#But I was feeling this for a good while now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

readwritealldayallnight · 2 days ago

Text

Part 3 of ‘Bird Watching’ aka hot construction worker Simon x single mom reader

He thinks your favourite colour must be yellow

It’s the first thing he notices when he walks into your flat, or rather, the first thing his brain registers as existing around you, because in actuality he’s unable to let his eyes stray from your form for even a second

From the corner of his eye, he spots a yellow rain jacket hung up by the front door as he kicks his boots off, sees yellow mugs drying next to the empty baby bottles by the sink, notices yellow pillows and blankets laid out across the couch next to a laundry basket, tiny onesies and burp cloths left half folded inside, notices an arrangement of drooping yellow tulips in a vase that have seen better days, and in the midst of all the sunshine scattered across a flat evidently well lived in, well loved, is you

You, in a pair of sweatpants and t-shirt that definitely doesn’t have dried spit up on it, bags beneath your eyes betraying the exhaustion that your smile refuses to divulge, and with a tiny baby cradled against your soft chest, you’re nothing short of a vision Simon feels unworthy to be bearing witness to, the epitome of everything he thought he would never have, would never deserve, pure and unabashed domesticity at its finest

He thinks you’re the most beautiful sight he’ll ever see

As privileged as he feels to have been invited inside your flat, inside your home, invited to take a glimpse into the four walls that keep you and your baby bird sheltered from the outside world where things aren’t all sunshine, another part of him wishes you’d never extended the invitation in the first place

When you’d answered the phone last night, he could tell immediately that he had called at an inopportune time

The sound of a baby’s displeased shrieking in the background was impossible to ignore, even over the sound of your sweet ‘Hello?’ coming through the line, but how was he meant to ask if this was a bad time, when you let out the most delighted, tantalizing little gasp when he’d said it was Simon calling

“Oh, Simon! It’s so nice to hear from you! How are you?” You’d asked him, voice sweet as a candy and addictive as a drug. How was he? Well when you said things like that, he felt like he was on the verge of either a heart attack or a relapse into something he was sure would leave him feeling high for the rest of his days, but he managed instead to tell you that he was fine, not that you’d heard his reply

Talking on the phone while holding a newborn who demanded her mum’s undivided attention proved to be a feat easier said than done

“Sorry, could you say that again?”

“Asked how you girls were holdin’ up?” He’d repeated for you, voice a little louder for you to understand over the noise

“We’re alright. Better now that you’ve called, we’ve been lookin’ forward to hearin’ from you. I mean- I don’t mean to get ahead of myself here but, I’m guessing you’ve called with good news? I hope?”

Simon couldn’t help but let the small chuckle that built in his chest and slipped past his lips, knowing that there wasn’t a single alternate reality out there where he’d allow himself to ever give you anything other than good news, give you any reason other than to smile

“It is good news.” He confirmed, smile widening when he could practically hear you grinning on the other end of the phone. “Though there are a few uh- kinks we might have to sort out.”

Whatever reply you might have given, Simon was unable to hear over the sound of tiny cries on the other end growing louder, more insistent

“Sorry, I think she’s ready for another feeding.” You’d explained to him after the interruption, unaware that the mental image you’d just painted in Simon’s mind, of your aching breasts being suckled on while you spoke to him over the line, had his heart skip a beat, shaking his head and willing himself to stay focused. “Feels like the little lady never stops eating.”

“Would it be easier if I met you somewhere? Might be able to give you all the details tha’ way.” He thought about how he’d have to thank your baby bird one day, for giving him an easy excuse to see you in person again

“Think you might be right.” You’d giggled softly through the phone, a deep blush creeping up Simon’s neck up to the tips of his ears at the sound

Now, Simon wasn’t overly thrilled at how easily you offered him your home address, in spite of him offering to meet you at a cafe, or a park, anywhere that’d be convenient for you, you’d explained to him that getting yourself and a newborn out of the house was more time consuming than the actual outing, and that you’d be happy to offer him a cup of tea for his troubles

As infatuated as he’d become with you since your last conversation, and as much as he’d hoped there was a sliver of a chance you’d been thinking of him too, he wasn’t keen on you so willingly giving your address to someone who was still more or a less a stranger, even if the stranger was doing you a monumental favour

But Simon couldn’t fault you for being sweet, for being kind, for being so trusting, for still looking at the world and seeing good where others saw nothing, for finding the sunshine in the darkness

On top of that, he could tell how exhausted you were, despite your cheery disposition over the phone, the sleep deprivation was clear as day, certainly playing a part in your willingness to invite a stranger into your home, no questions asked

And that had Simon’s heart aching the entire drive over to your flat, thinking about how you were taking care of this new little life, so dependent on you for everything, but who was taking care of you? Who was making sure you were looked after? You’d mentioned how it felt like she never stopped eating, but who was there to remind you to eat enough too?

That train of thought led to a small pit stop along the way, sweet and savoury treats sat in the display case of the bakery reminded him of how little he knew about you, how we wasn’t sure which ones you’d prefer, until finally he was walking out with a box tucked under his arm filled with one of everything

As he’d knocked on the door to the flat, part of him had even wondered if he should’ve gotten some groceries for you as well, remembering how you’d said getting out of the house was especially tricky now, but he had to reign himself in, not wanting to overwhelm you too early, to come on too strong. You’d soon enough discover how willing he was to help, it would only be a matter of time until everything settled into place, for now he would have to pace himself

For now, he could allow himself to enjoy the sight of you licking your lips as you pull a chocolate croissant out of the to-go box, let himself appreciate the comfortable silence of a meal shared between two- as you’d insisted he had to have something to eat as well- two mugs of steaming tea sat cooling on the table as the tiny bird snuggled in her wrap sleeps peacefully against your chest

He hadn’t been able to get much of a glimpse at her last time, tucked away under layers of blankets in her pram, and granted her mum had been holding most of his attention. But now he’s able to get a slightly better look at her as she snoozes on you, her body as tiny as he remembers his nephew having been once. She’s got her mouth open in a slight ‘o’, her petite little hand curled up against the top of your cleavage, she slumbers without a care in the world, knowing she’s in the safest spot she could ever be, listening to her mum’s heartbeat beneath her ear

And you, every time your hand rubs gently against her back or softly pats her little bottom, eyes glancing down to check on her and eyes beaming with intangible love and devotion, well, you appear to quite literally glow before him. The two of you look like a perfect puzzle, the pieces fitting together seamlessly to reveal a most beautiful image

Simon only hopes that there’s perhaps room for a third puzzle piece in the mix, a chance to discover an even more complete picture, one that maybe includes him

“Part of me wants to insist again that you didn’t have to do this, but I think I actually really needed it.” You say, wiping crumbs off the corner of your mouth with a finger, Simon’s gaze inevitably locked on the movement, mind wandering towards thoughts of licking chocolate remnants off your lips with his own tongue. “So I’ll say thank you instead. Again.”

“You’re welcome.” He replies with a soft chuckle reverberating through his chest, shoulders unconsciously straightening with the pride he feels swell within him, knowing that such a simple gesture could so easily please you. “Really, no need to thank me.”

“I just um-” you add, shifting slightly in your seat, fidgeting with your fingers as you avoid his gaze and look at the box of sweets instead. “I just would feel bad taking all of these if someone’s waiting on you at home that would like them too. Should we save some for ‘em?”

You’re cute, Simon thinks to himself, trying to get an answer to a question you don’t want to ask directly, tip toeing around it

“There ain’t no one at home, love.” He confirms, the term of endearment slipping out intentionally this time, feeling emboldened by being in your home, in your orbit, in your gaze, and apparently being on your mind too. “They’re all yours.”

The treats are all yours, yes, but what he doesn’t dare say yet is that so is his time, his attention, his focus, they’re all yours now birdie, if you’ll allow him to give them to, that is

The blush that creeps up your cheeks has his own blood rushing south, your shy smile imprinting itself to the front of his brain for safekeeping. You’re as sweet as any of the goods they made in that bakery today, and so he decides he’ll let you in on the other question you’ve been dancing around since you’ve been sitting here chatting

“So is the nursery spot. It’s yours, I mean. Or, rather hers I suppose.” He adds, jutting his chin towards the bundle laid across your bosom, noticing how your face stills at his words for a second, before blooming into the brightest expression he’s seen on you thus far

“Really? Oh my gosh, are you serious? I- okay hold on, let me try and lay her down in her crib. I’m too excited, I’m gonna wake her up.” You say, the pure joy evident in your voice as you slowly rise from your seat, a palm cradled against the back of her head as you excuse yourself down the hall towards what must be your bedroom, Simon’s eyes following your every move until your mismatched socked feet are padding back towards him a few minutes alter

“Simon, you- you really mean it? What did- how did you- what’s- just tell me everything!” You laugh, pulling your kitchen chair closer towards his side of the round table, sliding your mug across the wood towards you as you settle in, beaming eyes locked on his

He has to fight to reign in the grin threatening to stretch across his face as well, your excitement contagious as he angles his body towards you, not missing the way your eyes flit towards the flexing muscle of his arms for a split second, before returning to his face

Now, Simon’s had ample time between meeting the daycare’s director and walking into your flat, and each second has been spent wondering how he would go about this… situation he’s put himself into, considering what he should do about the little white lie he didn’t correct when the owner presumed Simon was inquiring about a spot for his child, a child she presumed he shared with his wife, rather than the woman he’d started falling for only days earlier

And yet with all that time, and as skilled as Simon once was at making life or death decision in the blink of an eye, not having had the luxury to consider actions and consequences when in the heat of the moment in what feels like a lifetime ago, he hasn’t been able to bring himself to a decision, hasn’t been able to convince himself that it’s worth bringing up at all, so long as no one tugs too hard on the loose string and unravels everything he’s working to seam together

After all, if Simon has it his way, the owner’s assumption won’t be wrong for too much longer, and so as he sits across from you, waiting for his answer, he decides that no one is being hurt if he omits the truth just a little while longer

“Easy ‘nough to find the owner, after all.” Not entirely true. “Turns out she’s a friend of a friend, who would’ve known?” Not true at all. “Told her I needed a favour, and she was happy to oblige.” A lie. “They had exactly one infant spot left open, and it’s yours now.”

“Oh, Simon, I- I don’t even know what to say! I was only expecting you to find me a phone number, or a name, or- I can’t believe you would do all of that.” You practically gush, pulling your knees up so you’re facing him entirely now. “I thought I was going to have to beg whoever was in charge for a chance, no one in the city is accepting infants right now. I just- Simon I can’t even begin to tell you how grateful I am, truly. But, why would you even do all of this? Even if you’re down playing it, it sounds like you went through a lot of trouble for us.”

Simon decides he’ll try a little honesty for a change

“The truth?” He asks softly, and you nod up at him, gaze wholly enraptured by whatever reply he’s about to offer you. “Haven’t been able to stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Either of you. But, you especially.”

“R-really?” You practically whisper, the blush on your cheeks as dark as ever, though your smile is anything but shy this time. He would dare say you look almost relieved at his words, a sentiment that has his heart skipping another beat.

“O’ course.” He answers easily, wondering how he’s gone all his life without this feeling stirring in his chest, the rush of chemicals to his brain addictive to say the least, wondering why he’s denied himself this joy for so long. But then again, it was you he was waiting on all this time, wasn’t it? “The director would like to meet you first though, she said there’s enrolment details to sort through or something, and she wants to meet- erm-” He trails off, motioning in the direction of the hall where you’ve laid the baby bird to rest

“Rosie. Oh my gosh, I can’t believe how rude I am, you’ve done all this for us and I haven’t even introduced you to her properly!” You say, a hand unconsciously smoothing over your stomach where she once grew, as though that would always be the place you considered her first home, as being within you. “Her name’s Rose, but she’s my little Rosie.”

“Tha’s beautiful.” He says, following your gaze as you look lovingly down the hall towards her, as though you could both see her through the walls.

“Thank you. I had no idea what I was going to name her, all throughout my pregnancy. I was literally in the hospital bed pushing her out and still unsure what I’d call her.” You reminisce with a small laugh, Simon hanging onto your every word as you offer him a glimpse into your reality a few months prior, the time before you’d turned his world upside down, a time when the foundation of your own world was being rocked.

“I was uh- I was by myself for it. Didn’t have anyone there, and this one nurse was so kind to me. She made me feel like I wasn’t alone, stayed with me for all of it, even after I’d delivered. Afterwards everyone kept pressuring me to come up with a name for her already, one doctor even told me I should’ve been able to look at her and just know. That mothers are supposed to know these things when they look at their baby. But there was so much happening- I just couldn’t decide, nothing felt right for her. Anyways, a few hours after I’d given birth the nurse came into my room and she’d gotten me flowers, probably from their gift shop. But it was a bouquet of roses, it was- it was the nicest thing anyone had done for me in a long time and I knew right away, that my girl was going to be a Rose.”

Simon can’t help but to sit in comfortably silence for a moment, letting that information sink in. You’d told him in your first meeting that it was just you and the baby, that much he knew. And walking into your flat, it was evident that there wasn’t a trace of a man living here with you. But to hear this, to know that you were alone as you gave birth, the fucker who’d had the downright honour of putting a baby into you nowhere to be found, has Simon’s blood boiling. He’s seeing red, but he steels himself with a deep breath and files that information away for another time.

“Rose is perfect. Just like she is.” He says without hesitation, watching the far off look in your eye as you told your story change instantly into one of pride, your eyes meeting his again with gratitude brewing behind them.

“Thank you.” You whisper, a timid hand slowly reaching to rest on his forearm for a moment, the small gesture having Simon’s heart beat so rapidly he’s worried you’ll be able to hear it. “Anyways uh- you said she wants to meet us?”

“Right, just details she needs to iron out, nothin’ for you to worry ‘bout. The spot’s yours love, I made sure of it.” He affirms, knowing that he’ll be replaying this moment in his mind constantly as he shows up early to work in the mornings and leaves entirely too late at night in order to finish the job he’s promised would be completed early, all for you. “I think it’d be best if I went you girls, to the meeting. Don’t think anyone would give you a hard time but, just want to be there to be sure.” He also wants to be there to filter any questions that might arise about your relationship to one another, keep the thread from being pulled

“Oh, of course, okay.” You say, pulling your hand back as you go to reach for you phone, pulling up your calendar. “Do you know when she was hoping to meet? We’ve got an appointment with the paediatrician on Wednesday morning, but if she gives us enough time we could be on the tube and there by-”

“You’ve been takin’ the tube with her?” Simon cuts you off, more abruptly than he meant to, but the image of you and your baby bird stuffed into the tube with all the delinquents and criminals that frequent London’s underground instantly has the hairs on the back of his neck raising

“Well, yeah of course. Used to have a car but, selling it made more sense when- well you know.” You shrug, clearly not wanting to linger on your dwindling financial situation since bringing a baby into this world

“I’ll pick you girls up.” He declares without hesitation

“Oh, Simon you really don’t have to! Seriously, you’ve already done so much for us. I can’t ask that much of you.” You try to reason, though Simon can tell there’s not much fight behind those words, a mothers instinct to protect her baby stronger than your need to insist on independence at this moment, especially if it means not having to navigate a pram through the tube

“Wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, love. Like I said last time, I want to, so I will.” He replies simply, because to him it really is that simple. Give him the chance to prove himself, and he’ll give you everything, anything you need

“Well, if you’re sure.” You smile softly at him, placing your phone back on the table, worries dissipating already.

“I’ll reach out to ‘er and confirm a date and time.” He tells you, pulling his own phone out this time, preparing to shoot off a text to the owner right away, though your next words have him stilling, certain that his heart is going to give out soon

“Great. Then it’s a date.”

He’ll be sure to bring you yellow roses next time

But first, he’s got an infant car seat to go buy for his truck

Ladies and gentleman, part 3 of Bird Watching 😇😇😇

I am having entirely too much fun writing this series, and it really does mean the world to me that you all have been so into this story as well!!! Hope part 3 lived up to your expectations! Simon’s lies surely aren’t going to catch up to him, right?

- M 🫶🏻

Tag List:

@puppydollgstar @strawberrygato @heletsmelovehim @404creep @just-lilita @desiretolive @marigold-morelli @robinfeldt98 @gojos4evrluvr @afanofbeans @br3nt-12 @sleep101 @scaleniusrm @bbygirl9 @elysianightsss @spidersuneee @mihoonz @ungodlydilf @nicolebarnes @kentuckyhobbit

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty #readwritealldayallnight #call of duty fic #call of duty fanfic #simon riley #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #ghost x you #cod simon ghost riley #ghost fanfic #call of duty ghost #ghost cod #ghost #cod simon riley #simon fluff

1K notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 2 days ago

Text

Fratboy! Sukuna

Pairings - Fratboy! Sukuna x Nerdy Brat! reader (my pairings are so extra LMAO)

Warnings - college AU, public play, fingering, oral ( f and m recieving) cum swallowing, rough sex, size kink, ass smacking, hair pulling, teasing, drinking, weed smoking, reader AND Kuna talking shit, Kuna whimpering, overall silly ass hcs with smut (this was a request for Kuna from Took you Like a Shot)

I should be working on my wips but instead have over 3k words of Sukuna smut <3 Now back to those lol!!

Fratboy! Sukuna was the king of this damn college, everyone knew him, whether it was as a friend, a hook up, crush or a rival. Running the frat with Suguru and Satoru, the three of them constantly had parties, and Sukuna was the best out of the three at beer pong by far. He's never lost a match in the three years of college, not once. So when he sees a nerdy little thing challenge him - a girl he's only seen with her head in a book passing by and maybe thought how pretty she was but - he scoffs, looking down at her. At you.

Fratboy! Sukuna has his crowd around him, so many girls fawn over him, one has his beer in her hand and gives him sip, one has his blunt lit, giving him hits. Another is holding his water bottle, all while he's in a ridiculous toga, that shows far too much of his toned, tatted physique. You try to ignore it as you adjust your own outfit, feeling ridiculous in it, but Sukuna couldn't stop thinking of how good that white dress looked on your skin, glinting under the lights. Dumb shit he shouldn't be thinking while high off his ass and lit, but it's there. 'What ya waiting for, brat, hmm? Scared I'll win?' He asks then across the table, with a big grin, and you glare up at him. 'No way, you'll see, it's all about math'

Fratboy! Sukuna bursts into laughter, and you itch to smack his arguably far too handsome face, while his girls all giggle around him. But Satoru comes over, murmuring in your ear then - 'he thinks you're hot, use it to your advantage' you gasp, looking at the white haired leader of the frat then. 'No way!?' He just smirks, and Sukuna scowls at you across the long beer pong table now. You sigh, there is so much Axe body spray and love spell, cigarette smoke and stale beer in the air, it's nice to inhale whatever fancy cologne Satoru wears for a moment. 'Distract him, pookie' you laugh softly, unbelieving when he runs back over to Sukuna, who bounces a ball right in your first cup.

Fratboy! Sukuna has said you're pretty many times but he didn't need Satoru to rat him out, he doesn't want to admit that he's shy around you. He's not shy around anyone, you're just an outlier, an annoyance really, leaning forward now and showing far too much of your pretty breasts in that dress, sinking a ball right into his cup then. Sukuna's cock starts throbbing from the look in your pretty eyes behind those glasses. 'Beginners luck, tch' he grumbles, you giggle a bit, sipping on your drink. 'Oh yeah? We'll see huh?' and you proceed to annihilate his ass at at, a girl taking down the 'big, bad Sukuna' like it's fucking nothing, making him angrier with every bounce.

Fratboy! Sukuna glares daggers at you across the crowded party, which many have gathered to watch the downfall of him, you have two of his cups left and he's only gotten one of yours, torn between wanting to fuck you right on this table and wanting to show you up for your little attitude. His red eyes glint then, he's so focused on how you look he's fucking up every throw, and now his friends are all making fun of him while you have the audacity to giggle. When you sink the last ball in, two boys from the frat lift you up on their shoulders, and you giggle, arms up in the air while he pouts, crossing his arms and looking away. 'She beat your ass bro-' Sukuna shoots a death glare at Suguru now, who's too high to care, laughing so hard he's almost snorting a long with Satoru. 'Oh fuck both of you. I'm just... off tonight or something'

Fratboy! Sukuna watches as you beat everyone at fucking beer pong, it's actually stupid how good you are. He ends up standing next to you, smoking on his blunt as he watches your technique, so close he can inhale whatever sweet scent you wear, filling his nostrils then and making his mouth itch to taste you. Do you taste as good as you smell? You look back then, lips parted as he's sniffing your neck without noticing what he's doing. 'Are you sniffing me, Sukuna?' he glares now, standing up and shaking his head. 'Tch, you wish, I just... y'know, I wanna make a bet with you' he can't admit that he absolutely was just sniffing you, no way. Your eyes light up the challenge. 'Oh, what bet?' you ask, tilting your head now, when he leans low, a hand brushing across your waist over thin cheap costume fabric, it's nothing to prevent his big hand from burning your skin.

Fratboy! Sukuna feels you trembling as he stands behind you now, his hard body against your back, and you try to focus, but he's fucking up your senses far more than any sips of beer you've had. 'I bet you can't stay quiet with my fingers in you. Ah, you nervous now, brat?' his whisper against your ear makes your cunt clench and throb with need, you look back at him with wide eyes, while he smirks at you, raising a thick brow, while his full lips are far too close. 'Oh yeah, what do I win if I can?' your ask shocks him, he assumed you'd be more... shy, but your challenge is all over your face, and you feel his hardness pressing against your back now, he wonders if you feel the precum leaking at the thought of touching you, pressing harder, your hands gripping the flimsy pong table. 'If you win, I'll drink that pussy up and have you cum all over my face,' you jerk when he touches you secretly, as if he's just hugging on you, but he's teasing your clit already, whispering - 'and if you win?'

Fratboy! Sukuna chuckles, pink locks falling just so over his arrogant brow, big ass grin with his straight white teeth glinting as he looks down at you. 'If I win, well...' he's whispering in your ear, making you tremble now, while you land another winning shot, and his typical girls look over jealously at the two of you, but he completely ignores them. 'You'll suck me till I cum, and you'll have to grind on my leg all fucking pathetic' you glare now at him, teeth clenching while he slips a finger under the slit of your gown, hidden firmly by your dress and the table. 'You're so arrogant, you wish I would. I'd make you whimper like a little bitch' Sukuna scowls deep now, at your fucking arrogance, but also... how dare you have done that to anyone but him!? The thought pisses him off irrationally. Makes him want to make sure your cunt remembers his shape and no one else's. 'Think you're so good at it, brat? Tch, we'll see.' You smile now, too pretty for him to focus, shaking your head. 'No, we'll see if you're any good at eating pussy'

Fratboy! Sukuna has clearly had you pegged all wrong, thinking you're some cute innocent thing when you have a mouth like that, wracking him with images of you on your knees, lips wrapped around his tip, when he finds you under your panties. He hardly holds back his moan, feeling your slick cunt pouring against his fingers. 'If you make noise, don't you lose?' you whisper, he smirks at you then, finding your clit and watching your eyes flutter shut, feeling her twitch under his fingertips. 'Focus on that game huh? before you lose' you clench your teeth again, hips shifting as wetness pours out, Sukuna casually sips his beer as if he's not rolling perfect patterns on your little twitchy clit, and you throw another ball as if you're not dying to grind against that hard cock pressing insistently.

Fratboy! Sukuna has met his match at beer pong, but he hears your soft whimper when he teases a kiss on your bare shoulder, running his fingers up and down your slit, and that sharp intake of breath as he feels your tight cunt gripping as he slides a thick digit in. 'You doin' okay, brat? so fuckin wet from some touches?' you glare again but it's interrupted by the squelching sound of your wetness in both of your ears and your gasp, which you bite back before shaking your head. 'I'm good' is all you manage, hearing his chuckle, when he inserts another finger, stretching you out. You thank God for loud ass music and laughter, or you swear your cunt was so loud people would hear. 'greedy cunt, she wants more, huh?' you say nothing, focusing on the cups, missing your ball then, frustrated and overheated, Sukuna watches the blush dance on your cheeks as his fingers curl up in your soppy little hole. 'Aw, poor baby is fucking up her shots'

Fratboy! Sukuna would love to lose to you, to bury his face in the soaking cunt drooling down his fingers, but part of him also wants to win because he always does, and fucking that bratty mouth just makes his cock twitch against his toga. He's lost in how tight you are, your little wiggles and gasps as he holds you against him, fingers hitting that spongy spot while he leans over, an arm braced on the table, the asshole actually holds conversations, grinning while you're about to cum. You try to hold back, cunt pulsing now, vision blurred by how good they feel, thighs trembling as slick pours down your inner thighs now, making it slippery and messy, gulping down a bottle of water and almost choking while he thumbs your clit at the same time, leaning close. 'How ya doing, beer pong champion?' his mocking tone should infuriate you, but all you wanna do is cum, and it's like he knows, but you swallow it down, smiling. 'I'm great!'

Fratboy! Sukuna god his jaw just drops when you win that tournament, not making barely a noise despite how wet you are, how jerky your hips are moving, you swallow that water and smile victoriously when he sighs, removing his fingers, leaving your cunt aching. 'Fuck, guess I might as well see what I'm in for' he murmurs, dejected at losing, he never loses, and he pulled out all the stops on that cunt. He takes his fingers then, sucking you off him casually, cheeks hollowing, making your tummy flip as he does, when his eyes flutter shut and he moans as he tastes you, it all feels too real then. All the shit talking didn't prepare you for how sexy he would look, what that action would do to your body and mind. His red eyes are so dilated they look fucking black when he grips your wrist now, leaning low - 'you won, brat, let's go, now'

Fratboy! Sukuna drags you behind him unceremoniously to his room then, and instead of kissing you or letting you touch him, he immediately locks the door, getting on his knees in front of you, a hot open mouthed kiss on your thigh as it trembles. 'Sukuna, just because you won doesn't mean you have to... I can- ah!' he's already eyeing your soaking wet cunt, so drenched your panties are sticking to you, the outline apparent, his breath on your inner thigh making matter worse. 'A bet is a bet, but I'd be eating you even if you won' he curses under his breath at the vulnerable statement, but you ease against his door then, relaxing, and brushing silky pink locks back. 'You would?' he just scoffs now, attitude back, glaring as he slips your panties off, you eye a collection of them then on his dresser and glare. 'You're not keeping them!' he chuckles now, nipping your inner thigh. 'will you just shut up and...' he laps at your cunt now, earning you banging your head against the door as you hiss, hips bucking. 'Can't even take one lick, huh?'

Fratboy! Sukuna talks a lot of shit to cover up the fact that you have the prettiest pussy he's seen, in fact he doesn't think anything will compare to it now, the taste sweet like your scent - no, sweeter - if he was a little bitch maybe he'd write some dumb poem about that flavor, but instead all you get is a husky - fuck - while he devours your soppy little cunt now, teasing and flicking your clit until he latches his mouth. 'mnh! oh my God, I... ngh!' you're reduced to nothing while he worships you on his knees, dressed like some goddess and he's sipping the finest nectar, red eyes darting up while you tug at his locks, hurting his scalp and making him harder while you do. 'Sukuna, m'close! fuck...' him edging you early didn't help matters, he just grins against you, wicked tongue flicking just so, teeth nipping your clit until you shatter for him, orgasm rocking your body until you can't see, gushing arousal down this man's face, and he drinks it all up too.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost cums licking you, finally pulling back and standing, hovering so tall over you, you almost fall so he wraps and arm around your waist. 'No talking shit, huh? where's all that attitude, brat?' you just yank him down by the golden leaf on his toga, whispering - 'shut up, Sukuna' and kiss him, tasting your arousal on his lips, before shoving him on his bed now, earning a shocked look on the huge man's face. Sukuna lifts and lifts heavy, and you're literally tiny and nothing in comparison - he plays football, he's an athlete, but he's weak kneed from you, helpless and irritated about it. You straddle him, your glasses fogging up from your kisses, and he grips your hips, hands shaking as he slips up your dress, and you reveal him, flushing. 'No boxers, you're so slutty, Sukuna' your words end him, he whimpers when you touch his tip with your finger, already leaking precum, you lap it off your thumb- and that's when he really knows he had you wrong. You're a little fucking freak, smiling down at him, cunt leaking down against his thick muscled thighs. 'You're yummy too - ah!'

Fratboy! Sukuna scowls at your audacity, lifting you up by your hips, as you view all of his huge, veiny cock, so big you know you can't take it, no guy is even close that you've been with, but you sure will fucking try. You figure he'll ease you on it, as he holds you up in the damn air and you flail, before he slides you all the way down his length in one stroke and you scream out. He groans as he feels it, smirking up at you under sooty pink lashes, watching your eyes roll back, your hips wiggle in his firm hold. 'Can't take it, brat?' he taunts, lifting and dragging you down that veiny length again, and you try to scowl back, but fail, moaning. 'I can, I can fuck give me a minute... monster cock what the f-fuck...' he's chuckling with delight, but you're clenching again, just making him moan himself, as he starts fucking up into your cunt, and it burns- the fucking stretch so intense you feel like he's splitting you in half, but you want it, fuck you want it - him slamming that cervix over and over.

Fratboy! Sukuna almost busts quick, stopping then, flipping you over until you're on your hands and knees, wrapping your hair around his first and sliding his cock back in, watching how small your cunt is compared to it. 'Making it disappear, such a good little slut for me, aren't you?' he's talking shit you'd never deal with but you like it from him, damn him. He's splitting you apart with every thrust, watching the creamy ring form at the base while both of your costumes barely hang on, he's scrunching it up your hips, smacking the fuck out of you as he pulls your hair so hard, and you just whine out - 'more, fuck, please more' and Sukuna gives it to you. He fucks you until you're drooling, heavy balls smacking that clit and making you cum, milking him already as your gummy walls grip and spasm, he smacks you again, watching his hand print form and groaning. 'you're so sweet like this, this what you wanted?'

Fratboy! Sukuna expects you to argue but you're too far gone, fucked from one orgasm into another, the smacks of skin loud in his room, while you grip his sheets and he presses your head down, fucking harder and harder, so hard you don't know if you can take it, you have to take off your glasses and shove them aside, burying your face against his bed. His cock fills you so good it's unbearable, all you can do is cry out into his bed while he's whispering utter filth - 'made f'me, isn't she?' you just nod weakly at it. 'Perfect cunt, aw you can't talk now, brat huh?' you just whine out, there was clearly a way to make you less competitive and that was getting railed in a frat house by Sukuna.

Fratboy! Sukuna barely pulls out in time, crying out and whining again as he cums, jerking his cock while you catch your breath, you struggle to get up, cunt fucking aching, turning to watch him. With his clean hand he hands you your glasses, as you slip them on and watch cum still oozing out of the hole of his reddened tip, so much cum. Your thighs quiver as you eye him now, as the two of you just sit there in the quiet for a moment, then you shock him, shoving him on his back again, breasts spilling and making him twitch with more need. 'Let me clean you up, Sukuna, it's the least I can do. Made you make all that noise, didn't I?' He glares at you, but once you're sucking all that cum off him with an expert tongue, and sliding him deep down your throat, until he's licked clean, he's gotta admit - you really were better at everything than him.

I love this man lol

perm tagsss- @alt--er--love @nanasukii28 @cuntphoric @loafteaw @n1vi @indiewritesxoxo @miizuzu @beachaddict48 @honeybunnnnie @re-tired-succubus @gojosukuna2268 @waterfal-ling @1brii @wise-fangirl @moncher-ire @orikixx @uhnosav @baepsays @designerpvssy @orixxxana @airandyeah @nina-from-317 @evelynxxo @naammiii @soyokosuguru @espresso1patronum @tomboy-disaster @iam-souless @lanii-i @cristy-101 @doeeyestoji @cvixmei @mutsu422 @ivyvenus333 @g00seg1rl @suki91 @satoao-main @fairygardenprincesss @theonlyjuggernaut @huntyhuntycunty @lovelockdownff @ibreathesmut @s777athv @twinklywinkly @akiii143 @squeezyvalkyrie @cookielovesbook-akie @oinksa @grignardsreagent @shokosbunny

#sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader #fratboy sukuna #sukuna ryomen smut #sukuna headcanons #divider by cafekitsune #sukuna x fem!reader #sukuna x female reader #jjk x reader smut #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna

3K notes · View notes

navybrat817 · 3 days ago

Text

Late Night Recap

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky tells Steve and Sam about his encounter with you.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Mention of drunk reader, humor, attraction, Sam and Steve are good friends, a bit of grumpy!Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay? And he has a crush).

A/N: Based on an anon ask and a continuation of Late Night Shenanigans. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Steve and Sam sat across from Bucky on the couch, blankly staring at him once he finished his story. He stared back with a scowl and was pretty sure Alpine was scowling at them, too, daring them to tell him that he was making the whole thing up about what happened earlier. That he didn’t encounter a beautiful drunk stranger snuggling with his cat. That you didn’t seem at all intimidated by his presence. That he couldn’t get your smile or voice out of his head.

Wait, he didn’t tell them that last part and he sure as hell wasn’t going to.

Steve cleared his throat after exchanging a look with Sam. “So, to recap, you were looking for Alpine and she was just… snuggled with a complete stranger?” He waited for a beat. “In the middle of a sidewalk at night?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what she did,” Bucky said through his teeth. His friend was old, but not hard of hearing.

“A sweet stranger who said you were the hottest man she had ever seen in her life?” Sam smirked. Yes, that was what you said and Bucky hadn’t forgotten it. Nor would he admit to his friends how nice the compliment made him feel the more he repeated your words in his mind. “And she snuggled with Alpine? Pictures, or it didn’t happen.”

Bucky made a face. Why would he make something like that, or you, up? Did he really not believe him? “Why the hell would I take a photo of her? That’s something a creep would do, and I’m not a creep,” he snapped, thinking about it while Sam chuckled. Grumpy with his share of issues, yes, but he was not a creep. “But there were security cameras outside of her building. Hacking the system wouldn’t be too difficult if you really wanted to see what happened.”

Was that creepy? It wasn’t like he was trying to get feed to watch you or to see your beautiful face again. It was to prove to Sam that he wasn’t lying about what happened, nothing more. Not that he had anything to prove. He was telling the truth. It wasn’t his fault if Sam didn’t believe him.

“You’re not going to hack anything,” Steve said, trying to be the voice of reason. It wouldn’t be the worst crime committed if he did. “I think Sam meant the picture thing as a joke.”

“No, I didn’t,” Sam said.

Steve held a hand up when Bucky’s fists curled. “What he means is we’re surprised because, besides you, Alpine doesn’t usually cuddle with people right away. She likes us, but it took her time to do that.”

“Yeah, well, she’s obviously different,” the brunette mumbled, scratching behind Alpine’s ears. “Alpine really liked her.”

Alpine purred in agreement, bringing a small smile out of the former assassin. Though part of him still wondered if you put some sort of spell over his cat to get her to warm up so quickly, he knew that wasn’t it. She was a good judge of character, so she had to take a liking to you since you were a friendly person. It was either that or she decided that you needed her to look out for you. And by extension that meant he had to look out for you, too. Someone had to.

Fuck, now he did feel like a creep with that train of thought.

“Listen, I’m not saying this… dream girl or whatever you want to call her doesn’t exist, but I do have to ask.” Sam had a shit-eating grin on his face. “Did she really boop you on the nose?”

If Bucky clenched his jaw any tighter he would’ve cracked his teeth. “She did. Twice.”

Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh and Sam didn’t bother hiding it. Why did he trust these punks with anything? “Okay…” Sam held his side as his laughter died down. “I have to meet her so I can ask where she got the balls to do that and say ‘you’re welcome’ for accidentally letting Alpine out so you two could meet.”

“You’re not going to meet her or ask her anything,” Bucky said, looking up at the ceiling. “Because I probably won’t see her again.”

It didn’t make sense why his heart ached so much at the thought of not crossing your path again. He didn’t know you, and you didn’t know him. Fairy tales and meet cutes or whatever they were called didn’t exist in his world, not for people like him.

“Well, with that attitude…” Sam mumbled, which Bucky pointedly ignored. It wasn’t like he was trying to be pessimistic, but getting his hopes up wouldn’t help either. “If I didn’t know any better, it sounds like Alpine isn’t the only one who liked her.”

Steve tried to catch his eye. “Do you like her, Buck?”

Bucky bit the inside of his cheek. Of course, his friends would latch on that he was possibly interested in someone. He hadn’t dated anyone since Leah, and his relationship with her hadn’t lasted long. Was the universe giving him a chance by putting you in his path, or was he reading too deeply into it? It had to be the latter.

Sam sighed when Bucky didn’t respond. “Can you message her? Tell her Alpine’s trying to get out to see her?”

Bucky almost laughed because he could see the feline trying to sneak out to find you. “I didn’t get her number.”

“Wait, you didn’t ask for her number or give her yours?” Steve asked.

Bucky finally lifted his head and fought the urge to say that he wasn’t the suave guy he used to be. “She was drunk, Steve. I didn’t ask since there’s a good chance that she might not even remember me,” he answered, which somehow felt worse than the thought of not seeing you again. Call him crazy or selfish, but he wanted you to remember him. It was only fair since you were affecting him so much.

“Well, you know where her apartment building is,” the blonde smiled. “That’s a start.”

“But not her apartment number,” he sighed.

You were alert enough not to give away that piece of information, which he appreciated. Though you joked that it was how “true crimes” began, did you have any idea how many laws he had broken over the years? No, how could you? If you knew, there was a chance you wouldn’t run straight inside.

Regardless of what he had or hadn’t done over the years, it didn’t change that he didn’t get your phone number or your apartment number before you parted ways.

Alpine batted her paw against his chest and meowed, sensing the subtle shift in his mood. “What would you suggest, Al? That I just walk you up and down her sidewalk with you until she comes out?”

Silence filled the living room. Was he really asking his cat for advice on how to see you again? Jesus fucking Christ, he needed help and he was already seeing a therapist.

Steve shrugged after a minute went by. “...It’s not a bad idea.”

Sam snorted. He was enjoying this way too much. “Or you could just start by finding her on social media like a normal person since she at least gave you her name.”

Bucky sat up, his cheek twitching. You had given him your name. “But wouldn’t that be weird to add her as a friend?” he asked.

Because, again, there was a chance you wouldn’t remember who he was. It would give him a chance to see photos of you if you shared them. Maybe get a feel for some of your likes and dislikes. Where you hung out. If your relationship status said “single” like he hoped.

…Was he venturing into creepy territory again?

Sam’s smile fell. “It’s weird to add her on social media, but it’s not weird to walk up and down her sidewalk like a wolf stalking its prey or talk about hacking the cameras of her building?”

“And that’s the end of this conversation,” Bucky said, shooting both of them a glare to drop it.

“You’ll see her again,” Steve smiled, quickly adding, “Now that’s the end of the conversation.”

Bucky wasn’t an idiot. It would not be the end of that conversation, not now that Steve and Sam knew he was interested in someone. He should’ve kept his mouth shut and said that he found Alpine all by her lonesome, but he didn’t want to keep you a secret.

He wondered how you were doing. Did you have your water and aspirin like he suggested? Would you feel okay in the morning? Did you hope to see him again? He just had to find a way to see you, if only so you could see “Queen Alpine” while you were sober.

And if he couldn’t figure out a way himself, he had a feeling Alpine would take matters into her own paws.

I swear, he will see his girl again. Because, yes, you are his girl. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

1K notes · View notes

syluses · 3 days ago

Text

𝄞 bloodhound

𓍯𓂃 hybrid sylus x female reader

(10k wc) �� summary: demanding, old, hostile— just a few of the warnings the man at the local shelter gave you before opening its cage. but it doesn’t matter. so long as he can protect you, all else can be forgiven. yet he’s more wolf than dog. more… man than wolf.

✦ content hybrid! sylus, nsfw/smut, hints of violence (not between mc/sylus), tension, kind of enemies to lovers-? he warms up to mc, knotting & adjusting to it, feral behavior, cunnilingus, slight somnophilia (not detailed), hinted age gap (all parties are 18+), possessive behavior, size difference,

✦ sidenote as by popular demand we have the latest installment of the lads hybrid collection 🙂‍↕️ i apologize in advance bc even as a wolf-man creature i made sylus older, because yall already know i love me a good ol’ fashioned dilf. dont ask me what bro is in dog years just know he’s scruffy! anyways do enjoy this lil thing while u wait for the caleb fic which i am busting my ass for :] 💕 ALSO sorry. he’s not feline this time… >_< this is def not my fav piece but i hope some of the girlies will like this one :] i did work hard on it it’s quite long. i gave it plot but tbh the smut is straight up filthy 😖 ig all we have left to do is hybrid rafayel! but that boy’s gonna have to wait lol :,) i do hav an idea for him tho ;D

With every step, it feels as if the walls of your apartment are closing in on you.

By your feet, at the front door you hardly have the coordination to close- blundering with the lock- lay a bouquet. Scattered. Flowers strew themselves across your hall as you kick the clasped bunch with the tip of your heel and glide from room to room, warily ducking into each one with your hand braced in front of your body, ready to beat and thrash and fight for your life.

In your other hand- a note. Crumpled, now. Shaking between your fingers.

You don’t think he’s gotten inside again- it seems the new home security measures you installed have thrown a wrench in his plans- for the moment, at least (although your spare key is still missing)- but you’re not wholly convinced you’re safe, either.

And to be clear, it’s better to be that than sorry: You’ll check each and every cranny of your little flat if it means reclaiming your peace of mind.

Your life is a different story though, as of late; threatened yet not something quite as simple to take back. Living with bated breath is no way to exist- neither with the perpetual looks thrown over your shoulder on the short trek back from the bus, the seemingly harmless creaks at night hurling you whole feet from your bed.

Because of that fear, you can hardly even bear to look down at the tiny paper in your hand to read it.

I loved that outfit on you yesterday babe. Can you blame me for taking a little from your wardrobe? ♡

Strangely, though, your drawer is just as you left it when you slide it from its framework almost fast enough to pop its screws, fearing the worst.

Clothes- your tee shirts, blouses for work and lacy bras, pencil skirts- fling across your bed, yet nothing is… amiss.

That outfit from yesterday.

With a gasp, you twist around to look at your hamper, and-

Sure enough, the lid is open.

✦

“-get a few new ones a week. Gets hard to keep up with ‘em all. All the personalities and quirks- a lot of them won’t even eat their kibble unless you look the other way.”

The cold brick walls and all the sounds bouncing off them (grunts, woofs, and nails against tile) become humdrum as the worker, waving a hand as he talks- rants, really- leads you through the pound.

The fluorescence lighting the place flares, whirs overhead. Everything about the setting is harsh. Obviously, you’re in no danger- but as you trail alongside him, you feel a sense of foreboding in your gut all the same. Like you’re walking into a dungeon.

The colorless walls swallowing up most of your vision make that silly threat seem an ounce realer.

You swallow, head on a swivel- yet not for fear, but sympathy as you pass an assortment of fenced-off pets. Some track you with a snarl. Some with eyes that plead. Still, they all share the undeniable tinge of distrust.

What an awful place, you think to yourself.

…But coming here had a purpose.

Your heels clip against the scratched floor and echo in rounds, a certain emptiness existing around you that seems misaligned with all the noise and sights.

Dogs in their cages— some upfront, teething at the metal, others: cowed to their corners, lying on thin blankets not quite as worse for wear.

To sum it up- creatures sapped of will. Defeated in life.

A distinct sorrow weighs in your chest, even as the employee happily drones on, a half-eaten tuna sandwich in one hand (the other: gesturing emphatically), hardly paying you any attention. To be fair, you’re giving him very little as well.

“-I mean, some don’t even eat at all. Picky things.”

Picky? You question quietly. Or without hunger? Their appetite for cheap, bagged kibble robbed right along with their appetite for life.

Your nails dent into your palm as you clench it.

It’s hard to get a word in edgewise as the man chatters away, but you manage to pile down your need to be polite for long enough to get in a:

Hey, excuse me, I asked what kind of dog you’d recommend for prot—

Clack, clack… Clack.

You come to a pause, dead-center in the walkway. The dull rhythm of his shoes remains where yours doesn’t.

“Heh. We got one a couple of months back who thinks this place is his own damn gourmet restaur-“

When he notices you’re not arm-to-arm, he, too, stops.

“Ma’am?” He turns.

“That one,” you breathe, just vaguely registering as the worker sidles up to you and glances at the cage you approach. The glint in your eye wins his interest.

For once since you entered the building, he shuts his mouth.

When he looks at ‘that one’ in question— a silver shock of fur, immersed in a shadow against the far wall— his eyes almost bulge from his skull.

A sharp laugh.

“Ah, little lady. Don’t wanna bite off more than you can chew, now. See-“

As he falls back into drivel (albeit, you lend an ear, curious now), you eye the pooch.

He looks a little wilder than the rest, a little more weathered, tucked to the corner of his cage but not quite ‘cowering’- no, he’s a touch too big and threatening for it to seem that way. More like… brooding.

…Yet you wonder all the same if that’s what he feels, too. Scared like most if not all of the others.

Your chest stirs again with that wisp of sadness.

If you could, you’d clip their collars to a leash and walk them all home, cramming them into your apartment with no thought and all heart. For reasons- countless reasons (having to do with your tiny home and even tinier wallet)- that’s not possible.

In a place as cold and unfortunate as this, he’d have every reason to be frightened, you think, but when your eyes soften with pity at him, his own narrow.

Thoughtfully, you blink.

As the worker rattles off his minor crimes around the playpen- and the hole he eats through their budget, what with his size- you can’t help but marvel at him.

Concerningly massive. With thick, silvery fur matted in certain areas, patchy with scars in others, and eyes that glow an unnatural shade of red- you can wholeheartedly say you’ve never seen the breed before. Less dog-like and more wolfish.

It warrants a raise of the brow, just what he’s doing here. Did he have an owner before? Was he abandoned by them? Or… was he just pulled from the street?

And if so, how many elephant-sized tranquilizer darts did it take to haul him here?

“So,” he says, stuffing his hand in his pockets, “Honestly, Ma’am, he’s probably not what you’re lookin’ for.” Giving your clacking heels and airy sundress a once-over, he sighs.

“We do have a Samoyed though- he was brought in just yesterday. Super playful. Great personality. Domesticated. He definitely won’t be here for long. Uh… this one here, though,” he snickers. “He’s unpredictable at the best of times. Growls when ya feed him- then growls some more ‘cause he’s still hungry... tsk,” he glances down at his hand, then. Evidently, there’s no mark there, but you think he’s imagining one that could’ve been.

“He’s on the older side, too. Can’t teach him any new tricks. And… big, as you can see. With his temperament, he’d probably tear a hole in your apartment. You, uh, you got an apartment, you said-?”

Right now, you should be thankful for all his advice- at the very least, relieved his chatter has become more meaningful, relaying all the pooch’s unruly habits. Yet you tune it all out, slightly cocking your head at the beast dog- a movement that, if you’re not imagining things, his scruffy one mirrors.

“He’s…”

“Yep. Like I said-“

“Perfect,” you breathe, falling to a crouch.

The man beside you coughs on his own spit. “What-? Uh, little lady, I seriously don’t think— hey, watch the hands! Don’t stick ‘em through!”

“-How much?”

You manage to pry your gaze from the ominous thing tucked a number of feet into his prison, cloaked and out of the light, to look up at the man. For all of the warnings and, really, defamation made against the animal— to his defense, he doesn’t lunge. Bark. Claw at the bars or slip his snout through to bite the harmless hand you extend in the space there.

No. With a lift of his whiskers, he watches.

Tuna-sandwich blinks. Eyes widening to twice their original size before he scrubs the lower half of his face.

Eventually, he shrugs. Takes a moment to process it.

As he does, you await the price with a hand already dipping inside your purse. I mean, you hope not to spend a small fortune during this outing- but it’s also an investment worth your while. There’s no saying when your stalker will show his face again. If tomorrow he’ll be waiting under your bed or in your closet for your return- hell, right now, the hackles on your neck are raised as if he could be lurking still.

A word relieves you of worries for naught.

“Nothing.”

…Wait- No, that can’t be right. Nothing? The- your future good boy is worth nothing?

“E-Excuse me?”

He sighs, exasperated. “You’d be doing us a favor,” is all he gives as an explanation. “You can have him for free.”

Dumbfounded, snapping your head back to the cage, you’re met with two crimson eyes that look almost hellish as they catch in the shifting fluorescence- and a pass of surprise on its face that appears almost… human.

“But, are you-“

“Haaaaah. Maybe it’s for the better. You’re like his savior, you know,” he comments, sparing a rather indifferent glance to the animal, “he oughta be thankful for you coming in here.”

And there, fucking again- like a blade wedged between your ribs and twisting—

“Too much longer and we would’a had to put him down.”

A squeeze of your heart.

Jaw fluttering shut, that morsel of information wipes the entirety of your hesitance out. Belatedly, you nod, perching your bag above your hip once more, a sense of determination smoothing out your features.

“When can we get him out of this cage?”

You ask without looking his way.

The sound of keys jingling on a ring has the silver-furred creature perking his left ear ever so slightly- a movement you track with curiosity as the beast’s chest swells in. It’s like he understands. Maybe he does. Maybe he’s seen countless people just like you filter in and out, pass him by, and ultimately land on a different pet to jailbreak take home.

“I can get you sorted right now,” he quips, helpful, “Just… You might wanna back up.”

Weirdly enough- and despite knowing you really should be cautious with a veritable beast from the local shelter, scarred to no end and skulking- all the tiptoeing around him is endearing in its own right.

He’s a good boy, you’re sure of it. Misunderstood, probably, like the rest of the poor, trembling things here— just in need of a nice, loving home and maybe a scritch or two behind the ear. And you’re positive, if nothing else, he’ll do plenty a good job at keeping your stalker at bay.

It takes a handful of minutes to loop the rope (not leash: rope) around his neck- yet the worker treats it as a pleasant surprise, muttering something about how he’s just a whit more cooperative today.

“Thank you,” you chime a bit breathlessly. Sure, your main goal in coming here was to find a suitable guard dog, but you can’t deny the excitement that flutters within as the gate closes to a now-empty cage, your new pet springing free.

Anticipation thrums in your chest as you eagerly accept the rope from him- “careful,” a snigger- and—

The ground beneath you all but gives way.

“Oh, sir- one more thing! What’s his name!”

He stops for a moment to turn halfway over his shoulder. Long, overgrown nails skittering across the floor as the leash tugs harshly and you’re rapidly propelled out the front door, into sunlight.

However, you do catch him shrugging.

“No clue.”

✦

A number of days pass. Those days drag by with an eagerness to get to know each other that seems only one-sided- and a caution on his end that borders uncanniness.

You buy him a fluffy dog bed (the biggest you could find; he’s bigger still). Quality food, not the rubbish they fed him at the pound. And you give him your patience; small, gentle smiles that you’re not entirely sure an animal can understand— but when you offer out your hand for him to smell, a sign that you mean no harm, he growls and retreats to his corner. He chooses one part of your tiny apartment to hunker down in and outright glares when you get too close.

This is your house.

This… was your house. Maybe you’ve bitten off more than you can chew. As a week moves on, you concede to your bedroom or the sofa and watch him with resignation as he watches you back- and contemplate if you made the right choice.

Does he seriously hate you that bad? How can you make him understand that you don’t harbor any bad intentions for him-? I mean, aren’t animals supposed to have that preternatural kind of instinct anyway? to spot malice?

What is he spotting in you?

Curled up on the couch, you hang your hand off the arm and release the new brush you’d bought days ago. It’s seeming more and more like a useless purchase, yet after countless attempts to bathe and brush him- all for naught- it’s only now starting to settle.

Work was long. That one coworker was grating on your nerves more than usual and you could’ve sworn you heard a second pair of footfalls trailing yours after the bus back- but you can only look over your shoulder so many times without attracting the attention of people who start to wonder if you’re batshit crazy.

But you're not crazy. That- That psychopath is, and his countless notes and uninvited visits to your apartment while you’re gone are all proofs of that.

But that’s changed, now. If your dog hates you, he’ll hate an intruder even more.

You sigh, holding your head in your hands as you lean forward. Like a flower wilted, folded in on itself, too heavy with its withering to support its own weight. You rub your temples when you grudgingly glance up to the wolf-sized beast sulking in the corner.

He stares, of course; buttery light twinkling in imposing, ruby eyes in a way that almost makes him seem tame. Mellow.

Not quite.

Still, you can’t bring yourself to dislike him, or regret taking him off the pound’s hands— for all his stubbornness, the hostility he barely conceals, you know all too well that fear manifests itself in strange ways. Like when you almost snarled at your deskmate today for leaning over your shoulder again to review your work- the proximity too startling to handle. You’re irate. On alert. Scared. And it’s making you do unreasonable things as a way to calcify your soft skin into a protective shell. You start to think that you must be hard: the climate calls for it.

The mutt that broods behind your armchair is the picture of ominous- big and bad and threatening long before his lip even curls in warning. Everything about him screams see, look at my scars- my sharp teeth and nails. Don’t touch me. Don’t hurt me.

Your heart stirs.

Tiredly, you offer a small smile. “You are perfect, you know,” folding your leg over the other as you pat the open space of the couch beside you. It can fit four to six people if they cram together, but you know he’d take up the three cushions beside you if he sprawled out entirely.

He regards you with a microscopic flick of his ears. “Even if you don’t like me, that doesn’t change what I think about you. If you just let me give you a bath… I’ll let you sit on the couch, deal? I’m sure it’ll be comfier than what you got now,” you offer, gesturing harmlessly to the dog bed that lays unused by the table— for this reason or that, perhaps just as a way to show you he’s completely rejecting you, he’s avoided it.

Yes, he’s just a tatterdamelion, forgotten animal, operating out of instinct and whatever feels right.

Yes, you still had to mask your hurt over it.

You sigh. “I mean, I haven’t even thought of a name for you yet. And I’m sorry, I just…” Trailing off, you give your head a small shake and stand to your feet. In your mind, with no small amount of discontent, you realize you’ve reached a watershed here— one that separates your old, normal life from a sense of great uncertainty that rests on the horizon.

And you’re terribly concerned. And tired. But God forbid you start venting to a dog about it.

“Nevermind. Goodnight, boy,” you wave your doubts off dismissively, deliberately leaving the lamplight on lest he get scared in the dark. Sometimes, you think you see eyes staring back in it, too, so you put no judgement on him.

Pattering with heavy, sock-clad feet down the hall, “Sleep tight. Just tell me if you hear anything at the door-“

A labored sigh.

Nails clacking behind you— and for one awful second you fear the worst: You’ve turned your back to a beast.

Your breath hitches with the realization, yet as you swiftly spin around- half prepared to bolt or at the very least shield your head with your vulnerable, just as fleshy arms- you’re mistaken.

There, he stands, as a massive silhouette against the living room light angling into the narrow, dim hall. He’s like a bull in a china shop- monstrous, sharp claws etching lines into the lacquer of the maple wood floor, his tail sending fur gusting behind him as it falls. You become clear of two things, then:

One) you must sweep, and soon. And two)

He’s tilting his head- in an uncannily shrewd way- towards the ajar bathroom door beside you, and as he noses it open and stares at you, it’s with expectance.

Oh, and then three—

When you don’t respond right away, he steps around you and impatiently nudges you in- headstrong as ever- through the bathroom door with a throaty huff.

✦

He smells of strawberry shortcake. Vastly sweeter than what he really is, you think with a wry but endeared smile, when you extend a slow, ever-cautious hand to pet.

To your surprise, he lets you.

Call it a truce between you both. A comfier place for him to crash at for a little more peace of mind on your end.

With all the dirt and dried muck lathered out from his coat (it took an hour or so, and patience- as he flung water and stubbornly tried to readjust in the small tub- lots of it), you’re given the chance to finally see the beauty of his breed.

Chalky white fur, soft as the cashmere sweater stowed in your closet on standby for the chilly autumn weeks ahead. His hair is long, perhaps overdue for a trim- not that you’re deluded enough to believe he’d allow a groomer anywhere near him- and easily covers most of the scarring underneath.

Convincing him it was safe to let you clip his nails was an even harder task than getting him in the bath- but he… cooperated. In a looser sense of the word.

None of your limbs are missing. That’s a small miracle in itself. You’re thankful for the little breakthroughs with your new pet, even if it feels like you’re walking uphill all the while.

He hops up on the sofa beside you. True to your word, you allow it, the springs dipping beneath you both as he settles.

If the couch fell through the floor and onto the one below in a mist of crumbled drywall, you’d have no right to be surprised. None at all.

Trying not to show a fraction of your joy as he sets his head on your lap lest that deter him, you bite back a grin and rest a hand on his back. You avoid needless contact with his head- you get the feeling that’s a iffier place for him. You’d respect it, of course. Your show of patience has been nothing less than outstanding in the past week. Now that you’re finally making headway with him (and yes— his letting you bathe and sit with him is headway), you’re encouraged.

Besides…

Unpredictable. The forbidding advice of the shelter employee rings in your head.

Ahem.

It’s late.

Tomorrow, you’ve another long day of work and second-guessing your surroundings and the people in them. Whether or not you’ll be attacked in your own home by your persistent ex-boyfriend who couldn’t stop meddling with your life even if it meant saving his own.

The doubt, momentarily, is pushed to the back burner.

You smooth your hands through his velvety fur. A strange layer of peace drapes itself over you, warming your chest like a fleece as his back rises and falls, your quiet breaths punctuating his own heaving ones.

“You’re a good boy, you know,” you murmur contentedly as you lay your head back and drift off. A crimson set of eyes regards you carefully, peering up through fine, snowy lashes.

From the barrel of his chest, he lets out a deep rumble like he understands. You know he doesn’t.

Half awake, you weave your fingers along him, “You are. You are a good boy,” as if it’s come as an epiphany to you- made realer as it’s spoken.

Before you let sleep take you entirely, you murmur with a ghost of a grin, teasing despite knowing it’s ridiculous because your words aren’t coherent to him- just a swooning, soft sound to bitten ears—

“Hey… I could tell you didn’t really like Cookie, or Sweetie, or Dragonfruit, but… what about…”

A moment passes. Barely, you register his snout lifting from your thigh.

“Sylus.”

Before dozing off, you’re fairly certain- for his sake- you’d left the lamp on that night.

…But when you wake the next morning to your alarm blaring in the room over, all that lights the living space is the sun streaming through the blinds.

✦

You blink and autumn is in full throttle.

You blink and you’re trading your thin sleep shorts out for pajama pants and slippers- layering your work blouses with wooly cardigans.

Days leap over one another like cards of a rolodex— yours, on your cubicle desk: filled with doodles of the unruly pooch waiting at home for you. Idling over him is all that you can do to ease your mind as anxiety gnaws through.

You worry for him when he’s home alone. Not because you heed the warnings you were once given- ‘he’ll tear a hole in your walls’- but because you care for him, and with that brings the inexplicable want to see him as soon as possible.

Of course, he can’t speak, but he shows in his own way that he misses you too when you’re gone.

Once your shift ends, you do as you did the day before. You quickly take the jacket off your wheely chair and gather your things, waving to the select few coworkers who don’t make you want to rip your hair from the root.

Perhaps if you’re quick enough, you’ll even make it off the bus, to your complex, before the sun sets. You appreciate fall for its colors. Not for the darkness it brings far too early to be comfortable with.

Every alley appears with teeth, in those eerily quiet moments when you make the short trek back home. Cars purr beside you on the congested roads, and despite cursing traffic on the ride to your stop, you’re grateful for it now.

At least more people are out; potential buffers to stave off your crazy ex from putting his hands on you…

Potential witnesses if he does.

Damnit. Damnit damnit damnit. Every evening you can’t help but wish you could just- take Sylus with you to work. But for so many reasons that’s just not possible.

Stuffing your hands in your pockets, you breathe out a fine mist and pick up the pace.

You can’t escape dusk from falling- but you can take advantage of the early moments of it right before night comes swinging.

You nervously glance up to the sky, a fiery swatch of orange sat under starry blue, and tell yourself it’s fine.

…It’s fine- and yet you swear on all things holy you can hear boots pacing behind yours—

A gasp. You turn around and get ready to rip your pepper pray from the scabbard that is your pocket- for naught. Emptiness greets you. Sneering and quiet. In the distance, deeper into the city, a car honks. Where you are now though, you’re more or less alone.

You wet your lip where it’s dented from biting. You turn around, and press back on.

It’s okay. You’re almost home. Just a bit further. Within ten minutes you’ll be crooning to your ‘puppy’ and itching behind his ear while he rigidly thumps his tail, closing his eyes indifferently as if he wasn’t hurrying to the door as soon as he heard the lock.

Yes, that’s right. In ten minutes- on the dot (you know because you’re toying with your watch to calm yourself)- you’ll be slipping off your jacket and refilling his water bowl, tossing him scraps as you prepare a nice steak dinner in celebration of your weekend commencing. The fancy wine you’ll pair with it is to help wash it all down and pretend you’re financially better off than you are. Not to help your nerves.

…Even Sylus, the creature who doesn’t understand you even if sometimes it seems he unexplainably does, would be hard-pressed to believe such a feeble lie.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

Your heels. A dull, monotonous rhythm against pavement, one you relish now because it fills the crisp, silent air.

Then-

Tap tap tap.

Your heels- “Hey baby, wait up- where ya going?”- with the sound of another and the bone-chilling revelation that every suspicion you had was grounded—

You don’t even turn around. You don’t reason with, stick up the bird to, or even hastily shout a fuck off, creep, over your shoulder because you’re not sure you have the luxury to.

By the sounds of it, he’s already close.

“Oh no you don’t. Come on, baby, just let me fuckin’ talk to you!”

-Closer and gaining still.

Fear rattles through you. It goes from zero to one hundred in a breath- yet how to breathe becomes a distant memory as your lungs still. The pulse in your throat drums, and suddenly your cardigan isn’t enough to save you from the ice eating you from the inside out- a cold sweat already forming at your nape.

You’re in such a panic you even forget about the spray in your pocket- the assortment of makeshift blades (keys, pens that grow knives when you click them) tucked in your purse. You have a small arsenal in there. Yet your mind spins.

“Stop-! I haven’t even been able to visit you lately because of that fucking asshole- since when you’d get a new boyfriend, baby? Do you really not care about me anymore? I just wanna talk!”

No. No no no- and new boyfriend? What-? All thought is dashed from your brain, his hollers becoming static. No, just ignore him, it doesn’t matter what nonsense he spouts to try and get you back- you won’t so much as glance behind you. After all he’s done to hurt and twist and outright disgrace you and your home, you don’t think he deserves it.

You break into a sprint. The concrete path pushes beneath you. You feel like you’re running in a dream, you’re so terrified- but you do run. You run like hell. You run like a girl.

You fiddle for the key in your purse, shaking as the door opens and you slam it behind you. His hand almost gets stuck in it, the knob jiggling loudly just a millisecond after you lock it.

As the reality of what could’ve been settles, you’re horrified. Cold in the face.

Sylus is there, leaping over to reach you. You wonder if the fury you catch in his wide ruby eyes is your imagination or reality; if he has the inexplicable knowing- based on your frazzled state or the noise- that something is terribly wrong.

“Sylus-“

You breathe with relief, but you don’t linger. You skitter past to the kitchen for a weapon- a real, proper one. A snarl rips from his throat as you leave him behind you, shouts sounding in the hallway behind your door. He barks at it. Ferocious and lupine. Surely not the make of a dog, of a pet meant for four walls and a roof— no, it’s a separate beast entirely.

Hostile, unpredictable, growly- dangerous. Oh, you’ve no choice but to hope all the labels on his package are true. That he’ll rip your ex-boyfriend a new one if he finds a way in.

Hyperventilating, limbs like jelly, you stagger over. In the short span of time it takes you to turn out the kitchen and down the corridor, you contemplate either opening the door and saying go boy, go— or simply staying back to ‘defend.’

You turn the corner and blanche.

Someone’s in your house- not the creeping, painfully familiar face, however, no- and he’s naked.

And then, everything you’d been working so hard to build with your froward pet over the months, the foundation of trust and patience, the hard-earned truce made between you both… As red eyes flash at you in warning, a hand taking the shaking knife from your own before he opens the door— it all shifts.

The bottom falls through.

The man opens the door, and perhaps you should be thankful that he takes the squabble outside because you’re sure that the blood spraying from your ex-boyfriend’s nose as it breaks would be impossible to scrub from your walls.

✦

“Relax,” he grouses with a tsk, “I’m not gonna bite.”

With split knuckles, a long leg crossed over the other where he sits on your couch, canines just a little too sharp as they catch in the lamplight- that’s hard to believe.

The blade he’d taken from your hands lies on the cushion beside him, and while you don’t make a grab for it, you think he sees the way you eye it- and the knife block in the kitchen- as you clench your fist to keep yourself from fainting while you gawk.

“Y-You’re not my dog.”

One of his brows lifts with amusement- or challenge, perhaps- as you deny the truth laid out before you. It’s impossible. Of course it’s impossible. He-

That can’t be Sylus.

For a moment you believe he’ll agree. Nod his head and say, no, I’m not your dog- I’m a person; because that’s certainly how he looks. But he doesn’t.

“I simply changed forms,” he explains. “Not who I am to you.”

With nothing else to say- no real rebuttal- you can only flounder. “N-No. You’re not Sylus.”

That pulls a soft huff from him, “Oh, kitten,” he grins a tenuous grin, “I’m wounded. And here I thought your kindness had no takebacks. You gave me that name, didn’t you? Sylus.” He sighs, a heavy, affected sound- like this is no more than a theater play to him as he adjusts on your sofa.

“I guess I’ll just have to settle for something else, then… Is Dragonfruit still up for grabs?”

D-Dragonfruit? How does he…

The way he looks at you then, with a lift of his chin as he angles his brow in provocation, a smirk only touching half his mouth- makes you freeze. The little hairs on your nape rise.

…Yet he’s just as scarred as your pet, with the silver hair and the gemstone eyes— massive, over six foot tall and muscular- and the air about him is… familiar. Too much to be comfortable with.

“Y-You’re not-“

Before you can splutter out another denial, he sighs and drops the bravado. He spares the weapon beside him a dismissive glance, stretching one arm across the back of the couch.

“Look, if you don’t believe me, that’s your choice. I won’t try to convince you,” he states, “I’ll just let my actions speak for themselves in the course of the next few days.”

…What? The next few days? Does he plan to stay? What- no. No no no! This mysterious, albeit helpful stranger (helpful in the way that he shook your persistent ex from your doorstep- through violent means, of course) can’t seriously think you’ll just let him crash at your place after feeding you such a ridiculous lie. He’s not your dog. He’s- he’s not some werewolf that can shapeshift on a whim- those only exist in fairytales and teenage romance novels.

Not in your tiny apartment.

“N-No. You- you’re crazy. You have to leave. You have to! I’ll- I’ll call the cops!”

Not-Sylus seems unfazed. Perhaps even a little offended at your bluffing: the vehemence is there. But the certainty is not.

Sure, the department wasn’t having your stalker drama- but an intrusion you’re actually witnessing like this can’t be easily ignored. If your crappy ex ends up snitching (you doubt it, what with his involvement)- all the more evidence, right?

He all but rolls his eyes, saying like it’s obvious, perhaps even with a mite of amusement, “I’m on your side, kitten. Don’t get all…” he looks you up and down, and you hate the flutter of your heart that’s more than just fearful— it’s self-conscious. “Hissy now.”

You punch out a scoff of disbelief. “You’re some stranger in my house! Look- I appreciate what you did, okay? I really do,” you start. You have to pause in between to take a breath because God knows you mean the words you say- you’re just inwardly afraid that the fix was only quick, not permanent, and with the sudden disappearance of your dog? Good luck protecting yourself now. Fuck, you don’t even know where he went- maybe he booked it out through the door when you were too distracted by the chaos to notice.

But then… why the hell would he leave? He- He’s never done that until now!

You rub your face and stare at him. The fear lends itself to a distant echo the more you realize you’re no longer in immediate danger. The guy is an unwelcome (and flashy, literally) intruder, yes, one your pooch would waste no time in maiming, but he’s not an active threat... You just have to figure out how to get him to leave.

“But my dog is a dog. Not a human. Not… you.” That you even have to say it out loud is ridiculous.

Even if, the longer you stare, the more you begin to believe it.

The scarred skin, the unmistakable, red eyes, and the somewhat bitten ears- his body weathered from what you suspect to be years of tussling in underground fights (evidently: winning them, not without the cost though)…

And that arrogant little air he carries with him, the one that first endeared you so.

Sylus, it all says.

But no. No- this is insane. Months of being stalked and living like a bug under a microscope have made you worse for wear. Impaired your judgment.

He draws you back to the present with his rumbling voice. “Your dog is more than just some animal,” he huffs. “Don’t tell me after all you’ve experienced with the stalker that you’re… frightened of this side of me? Really? Of all things?” His chuckle is as rich as it is short as he shakes his head.

Frightened? No… that becomes a more distant word. You’re more so stunned than anything else right now as the pieces start to fall in alignment with each other.

“Well, how about this,” he offers at your silence, waving his hand. “Let the week pass. By the end of it, you can decide for yourself if I’m real or truly just a figment of your imagination, sweetheart… You…” he lowers his gaze, then. Uncertain, almost.

“You can even decide if you want me to stay.”

He rubs nothing between his fingers, glancing up again with a pointed brow. “Deal?”

And if you say no? If, on the off chance you’re wrong and you kick him right back to the curb- to a sorry life of abandonment and bloody illegal brawls and God knows what else?

Your mouth wavers. “I- I don’t believe it.”

You do believe it. But it’s crazy.

He almost snorts. “You’d better start. But with that pest taken care of now… I think you’ll catch on quite fast,” he grins. “I’m here for you, kitten. Isn’t that what you wanted me for? Protection? Don’t tell me once I serve my use you’ll throw me out?” He laughs. But then he sighs right after, pursing his lips and looking down to his lap where he makes no effort to adjust the thin blanket that covers his nakedness as it nearly slips.

Headstrong. Cocksure. Bored with his surroundings in a way only mature folk really tend to be. The sage advice of that employee flashes in your mind— ‘he’s on the older side, so naturally he’s a bit grumpy, snippy’; really, you shouldn’t gasp at his temperament but with your current situation it’s a little hard not to when he clips out-

“So? Do we have a deal or not?”

And, well, what’s the harm in giving him your couch for one night?

Or several.

✦

A wintry chill pricks up your neck. Along your arms. Down your limbs where they bundle beneath the covers- to the tips of your toes as you respond with a shiver.

It rattles you in tandem with pleasure.

Upon waking, a few things blitz through your mind too fast to catch. For one, you’ve woken before your alarm- meaning you’ll be miserable in the minutes or hours of consciousness before it actually does go off. Secondly, the bed feels heavier.

…As do your bones.

Third— Sylus is not on the couch like he’s been for the past few months. He’s with you, in the comfort of your own bed, and as the wooly blanket slips down your upper half- leaving you to the cold air- it reveals to you a head between your thighs.

Pried open. One held up for a soft kiss while the other is pinned down— both wet. Sticky with- with you.

You gasp. “Sylus-“

You’ve no time to even rub the sleep from your eyes, big weathered hands anchoring you in place, because he lifts his head from his plate for a millisecond when you try to stop him and does something he hasn’t for months.

He snarls.

“Quiet. I’m eating.”

Protective. Territorial. That isn’t your pussy he eats from, lapping fervently at it as if it wasn’t just a number of hours ago you were hand-feeding him steak cubes from the cutting tray— no, it’s his.

He blocks your hand from interfering when it slips beneath the cover. So when that doesn’t work, you attempt to clamp your legs shut (quavering, you realize, on either side of his lupine face). All your efforts- bogged by sleep and the simple fact that he was leagues stronger- are for naught.

‘Good try’, his eyes seem to tease, though, glittering devilishly at you as his tongue flicks your clit. And then, when you hesitantly lie back and rest a hand in his hair- ‘that’s it, kitten.’

“Good girl,” he practically purrs.

He’s got a big appetite. You’ve known that.

Not as much as you do right now.

“Sylus, wait wait wait,” you moan. Life has thrown so much your way, especially in the past year or so, but you never went belly-up for it. You fought and resisted and squared up.

But right now, half of you almost wants to take him lying down- let him take his fill of you and then pin you down to take some more. Let him have his way with you, whatever that may entail.

But you- You have work tomorrow, and- and responsibilities—

“Hush,” he goes, voice muffled, having some preternatural ability to tell just what you’re thinking. He drifts a hand up your belly to splay over the valley of your breast. Your heart thumps beneath his callous palm like a metronome. Like a ticking clock, counting down the seconds or hours before you need to get up and get ready. Start a day in which you leave home, leave Sylus, and spend the rest of it longing to get back.

“Just take the day off.”

Grudgingly, you lie your head back. It’s… not a great idea, but as your rationale clouds, it seems like your best one.

“O-Okay.”

As a hot, long tongue stripes up your pussy and then his other hand, the one he used to comfort you in his own weird way, slinks downward again- the ceiling becomes too boring to bear.

So you glance down.

He’s handsome as all get out. Really, a couple months ago when he first appeared to you as a human, that was all you could think as days passed and you became grossly aware that you were sharing a confined space with a man. That you had been all along— and your prancing around the apartment half-naked was just one of the countless spectacles he’d seen.

He never pounced, though. Never lunged. Never bit you like a dog or hurt you like a man, even when every bit of his crude exterior screamed hazardous. He was a good boy. And you don’t care what form he takes; he took you as you are, didn’t he? When you were scared of your own shadow and a little snippy because of it. He let you hold the leash to his heart and snarled at anything that came too close- protected you against your piece of crap ex without prompting. Turned your fear into a mellow thing.

Warmth prods at your heart. Loosens your legs up where they clench around his head.

That day at the pound turns in your memory like a spindle.

You could’ve lost him. He- He could’ve been gone forever hadn’t you showed.

…But you did show. For the shitty time you’d been having, Sylus was your one silver lining. You were there for each other as a shoulder to lean on and a hand to hold.

Your fingers tug gently on his scalp. Fruity shampoo breathes out from the blanket when you flip it over his head to allow him better access. Nerves eat you from the inside out. You’ve seen the looks, the hungering glances and felt the fingertips that linger in seemingly innocent touches:

Finally experiencing the culmination of his quiet longing is a whole different game, though.

Slurps ring out from your thighs. Your sighing, candied words- spoken in that ridiculous tone reserved only for him- make his ears perk atop his head.

“Good boy,” you breathe. “Y-You’re perfect.”

He rewards your obedience with a finger, thick and delightful. You gasp and arch your back into his hands- or, his one hand- a throaty moan rippling from his open mouth. The several little muscles in his face go lax when you coyly guide him deeper into your cunt and he melts.

“You taste delicious,” he whispers. “Sweet girl. I can-“ a deep, shivering inhale. Not from you- from him. “I can smell how much you want it…. You’re soaked.”

You mewl his name and almost reach full relaxation ‘til you glance back down and, with the covers off, spot where his other hand disappears. He’s naked- not in the boxer briefs and sweatpants you’d bid him goodnight in- and holds his fat, upright cock in his hand.

And his hand is big. Can dwarf every part of you with its hold.

His cock is somehow bigger.

Your heart leaps from your chest as he eyes you. He’s daunting. Every bit intimidating and then some- especially as you realize he won’t be just content with kitten licking your pussy, delicious as it is, and ending the intimate moment right afterward.

Dogs will always take the bowl if you slide them one: and then look to you later for seconds.

Point is- he’s insatiable.

You shiver as raunchy images flash in your brain— rough fingers pinning back your thighs as he rams inside you, setting a relentless pace as he bites and sucks and claims.

In your imagination, he doesn’t pull out when he comes.

…What really takes your breath is the engorged knot at the base of him, though, flushed an impatient red. Fattening by the second.

Cum- not pre- dribbles from the tip. For how long he’s been at this, you don’t know.

“Sylus-!” You mean to shriek it, but you can only manage a whispering scream. “Wait, wait, wait! what do you have in your hand-!“

A grin plays at his lips. Crooked, recalcitrant.

Challenging.

He’s hardly lucid, what with the delicious heat emanating from the slick lips he stuffs a second finger in, to acknowledge your question, so it’s surprising when he pulls back a centimeter to make an answer. Lust grips him tight— the need to fuck and take and mount— but that concerned, cute little bump in your brow is one he wants to smooth.

It’s the least he can do.

“Take a guess,” he sussurates, licking slowly up your inner thigh. Torturing you. “It’ll be in yours soon though, kitten, so get ready.”

Your eyes bulge from your skull.

His response: a low chuckle paired with a moan.

From that point on, even as he suckles expertly at your puffy clit, working you to a sniveling mess as you scream on his fingers, you’re focused entirely on what he’s doing below the blanket. He palms at himself- it’s all he can do to relieve the ache as he wrestles with his fraying self-control- massaging his balls and knot as they throb.

When he withdraws his digits from you, eyes drooping at the cream coating his knuckles before fluttering back at the taste of it— you lie back down and gulp.

Taking work off today is a good idea. You can already think of a few excuses. Not being able to walk properly is one of them. Being unable to get out of bed… Feeling so sore and feverish after he’s fucked you into pyrexia that you can’t even move an inch without being reminded of it.

He straightens. The cover slips off him entirely and he’s tall. Hulking. Painting you in his shadow- but the moonlight brings out the sheer hunger on his face, and you alight with warmth all over again.

You hope he’s primed you. You pray he’s done good to prepare you for what’s to come. Because oh, it’s coming. You know that.

“Now,” he heaves, dragging your legs either side of him as he kneels. You can tell he’s not well off, trying to muster a cocksure grin but failing as he perspires at the temple. “To the good part.”

You frown at that, almost- a pang of hurt weaving through the haze of desire and the smell of your musk on his fingers as he licks them clean again, ever thorough. He notes the flicker of your brow with a thoughtful pause and then a sigh, shaking his head as he grabs your jaw and angles his front down.

He chuckles, and you experience a singular flash of softness when he goes, “Oh, so sensitive… Don’t pout. I thoroughly enjoyed the opening too, kitten.”

You’re shaking. Insides molten with the pure want for him to just- to just do something already. There’s no opportunity to come down from your high because you feel his cock bob against your tummy as he sets himself up, and you burn anew.

Oh, you love him. You really do. He’s endearing in all the places he shouldn’t be. He’s charming and strong and willing to fight for you. So you don’t care if he’s a little old and slow on the uptake when it comes to new tricks- territorial and intimidating. He’s yours.

Eyes half open, you lift your hands to trail from his pecs to his firm, scarred belly. With a hiss, he trembles. Catches your wrists and tuts at you a second later, saying, “It’s better to keep those at your side. Once you get me going, I won’t be easy to stop.”

And you’d be half tempted to tease him some more, you know, but fuck if he isn’t massive. And fuck if you aren’t a little scared for it.

So you clutch the sheets as he drives himself inside with a grunt, and settle below him. You trust he’ll take care of you.

The entrance is, at first, surprisingly smooth, what with the natural lube you’ve provided for him. You let him lift your ass and bend you into a bow-shaped thing so he can hit deeper- and that’s when there’s some turbulence.

Your fingers curl into the cotton fabric. You brace and wait for the sting to subside. When you realize your eyes are clamped shut, though, you open them to see his expression and pall at the sight of him.

He’s gorgeous. Even when he looks like he’s ready to sneeze- brow scrunched and jaw slack as he dragoons himself inside, tormentingly slow- he’s nothing less than charming through your lens. But you’re thankful for the time he gives you to adjust because you need it.

Frankly, if he intends to put his knot inside— and he fucking won’t, there’s just no way— the walls of your pussy need the patience on his end.

For several seconds, Sylus does not breathe. You’re sizzling hot; when he eventually bottoms out, he can’t tell where he starts and you end- all he knows is that it’s gooey and warm and so fucking tight his balls throb. He deliquesces between your thighs. You welcome him, your body like a landing pad.

He supposes, right then, you’ve always been very hospitable.

Sylus curses. “Ngh, you’re tight... Loosen up,” he presses his forehead to yours and hisses out through his teeth. His eyes glitter like rhodolite in the dark. Reverent hands run down your side and clasp your hip. With your slick still coating his lips- tangy sweet, you find, as he presses them to yours- you realize he’s worshipful. The moonlight pouring in the blinds makes his silhouette glow a true blue.

“You’re perfect,” he murmurs, swiping over your bottom lip with his tongue. “Sweet, and soft. And a very good girl. I’ve got your back. You know that, don’t you?” Then, he draws his hips back and—

Your little bed judders. But the squeak that sounds out is yours as he ruts back inside and your labia brushes with his knot.

He won’t put it inside. He won’t. You’re sure of it. Mutts only do that when they’re mating. Mutts only do that. Sylus is- is so much more than that, and….

“Mmm,” an uncontrollable moan escapes you as he begins to move, like really move, and your eyes roll.

With some difficulty, he continues. “You’re naive. Plucking something like me from its cage. But I admire your bravery, kitten, so— f- uck— let me just show you, hm? How far my loyalty goes?”

Void of words, you nod.

The reindeer-patterned bedsheets aren’t enough. Your hands leave them in favor of Sylus, grasping around his back so tight your fingertips can make out the raised scars there. Planes of muscle flexing with divots with every thrust forward.

Offhandedly, he hits that sweet spot inside you. Your nails dig in by accident, and you say his name, stringing out the syllables in a delightful, dizzying mewl.

The floodgates- they burst open. Something in him gives.

He rams forward, abandoning his restraint altogether as his furry, salt-and-peppered tail whacks the mattress beneath you. That fat swell below his cock teases at your sweltering hole with every pump inside, and Sylus burrows his nose into your sweaty neck to whimper.

You’ve never heard such a noise escape him before. Huffs, grumbles, long, exaggerated sighs he makes whenever he finds a nice spot to lay down (usually on you), as if he pays the rent around here— but never that.

He whines, words strained, “Think you can take my knot? Hah… Nod your head for me, kitten- because I don’t think that I can stop it. I can’t wait any longer. I need you to…” he shudders, “take it.”

One moment you’re nervously glancing down to monitor him- and the next he’s nudging your head back with his nose before crashing his lips to yours. Your eyes widen when he flips you over, presses his chest to your back, and thrusts inside with vigor.

With the new angle, you stretch around him with a mewl, but every bone in your body locks when his hips slam flush to your ass and—

His knot pops inside with a gasp.

Throwing your hands to the strong ones he latches around your midriff, you wail. He clings to you like a limpet, his thighs trembling behind yours as he moans endlessly in your ear. Pointed teeth graze at the nape of your neck. He doesn’t bite- but amidst the warp of pain and a pleasure so intense it gives you vertigo, you distantly realize that he probably wants to.

He holds himself off. Breath hitching as his pelvis claps into you. Euphoria rolls across him, shocks him like a static bolt, every fiber of his being awash with it as his jaw falls open and he succumbs to you.

When he comes, it’s so hard his ears ring.

The walls of your pussy become less hospitable, then, clenching around him so tight as you both cum that for a moment, he can’t even say a word to ease you. He aches inside you- you can feel it. The girth of him twitching as your heat swallows him up with a spasm. His knot takes all thought from your brain. Stuffed inside your poor hole, tumid and veiny.

You feel him coalesce with you, too. Eagerly rutting his seed inside (ensuring it sticks, you realize when he drops a finger to your folds, checking for leakage), releasing rope after rope of hot cum as you go limp and take it.

You offer up a choked mewl when he kisses at your spine, brushing your hair aside just to access your neck where he licks and sucks. You trust Sylus not to get carried away with a bite if he did, to lose out to what he’s been taught.

Evidently, he doesn’t trust himself.

Your fingers dig into his thick, scarred forearm and he sighs behind you- a long, feeble sound. He’s barely able to keep himself draped over you- let alone support your own position beneath him, what with the soup you’ve made of his brain- but he manages.

Silence sprawls out as you attempt to steady your breaths. All that comes in between it is the occasional, wet squelch and the gusting inhales he takes at the column of your neck.

“It… hurts. So good…” he hisses after several beats. Only marginally brought back to reality, you flutter your eyes open and offer a yip back. “You’re doing so well, though… Just-“ He twitches inside you, then, throbbing like a second pulse point, his cock undulating in your walls, greedily taking up all the space.

“Fuck. Stay still, sweet girl,” he grunts, harebrained. His eyes crinkle and close. “I want it all inside. Don’t wanna see so much as a drop escape that perfect, tight pussy. Hah- you hear me?”

“Y-Yes,” you quiver back. Speaking is too difficult, you realize a second later, shoving your open mouth into the pillow as you pant for air.

Yet, you can’t help but ask with a slur, “Sylus- when- when will it be over?”

He moans, right in your ear. Goosebumps run up your naked body- all that clothes you.

“It’s too big,” you cry.

“No,” he quips. “It’s just right.”

As if on cue, your cunt gives another squeeze around him, milking him for all he’s worth. In response, he bows his forehead into the crook your shoulder and jaw make to bury a whine, and your mind spins when you register his balls, hanging fat against your ass, lurching. And oh, you’re spilling, you can feel it, beginning to ooze profusely from your puffy lips even as he keeps it plugged; really, even if Sylus wanted to separate from you (he doesn’t), he couldn’t.

There’s nothing in him that wants the distance. The idea of self-autonomy. The idea of independence. No- he’s all yours.

“We’ll wait it out,” he breathes. Coasting a hand along your belly in an effort to placate you. He knows it can’t be easy for you. But the world— that stupid, irksome ex-boyfriend of yours— needs to understand where your heart belongs. There’s no better way to show that than to demonstrate it first with the body.

And you—

(Bitten by his branding kiss, supple skin covered with the divots of his teeth, your belly full of his veritable seed-)

Well. Nobody should look at you, he decides in his spirit right then, and come to any other conclusion but the one that you’re his.

Unmistakably, irrevocably, his.

“It’ll subside soon enough,” he soothes with a peck to your throat, a surprisingly chaste move. He loops his arms around your waist again and carefully- mindful not to exacerbate the heady ache- maneuvers on his side, pulling your back to his front. He whispers at your ear, “So long as you don’t move or stir me up, we’ll be fine.”

Yet, a set of canines brush at your jugular, and again- there’s that inkling, this time in better clarity, that passes your conscience. You know he wants to bite. To mark. To claim. You know it and have the vague idea of all it entails, yet he… won’t.

With a frown, cursing as you turn ever so slightly and his fat knot shifts inside you, you hazily meet his eyes.

His are practically glowing, laying heavy on you. Charting across your face the moment they make contact, observing every brief flicker of your expression to try and assign a feeling— happiness, he hopes, contentedness— to it. His lashes totter and you burn with shame when a lewd suck rings between your legs, his cock wet all the way down to the slight plush of his abdomen.

You don’t mean to pout, “why won’t you-“

“Not yet, Kitten,” he scolds. Trying to swallow down a pit of self-consciousness in your throat, you murmur, “What, do you not want me?” Sylus huffs as if offended. His eyes drag from your lips to your searching eyes.

“Really, kitten? …What, should I give you an equally stupid answer?”

Oh, you’d tug his tail if you had the luxury of moving right now-

“Of course I want you. Can’t you tell?” He sighs, then, burrowing his nose into your neck almost to hide. His ears droop along his head, donning a relaxed look.

“So. Did you like it..?”

“Y-Yeah…” you murmur, carefully looping a hand back to stroke behind his fuzzy ears. “But, I just… I thought you’d really do it, I thought you’d really tie us together-“

He chuckles richly. “We’re already tied together, kitten,” peppering another kiss below your jaw, licking appreciatively at the sweat that clings to soft skin. “I’ve belonged to you for some time now, haven’t I?”

Your heart skips a beat when you realize he’s right.

“I- I guess so. Yeah.”

“So no more whining,” he lifts his chin to sample your lips, this time- his knot still throbbing white-hot and insistently inside you (albeit the ache is lessening)- eyes lidded as he conveys his affections.

“I’ll do it when we’re both ready. When…” He pauses to swallow.

In that short frame of time before he next speaks, you’re drawn to all his scarring. The faded ligature marks around his neck, the seemingly permanent gnashes along his body (which was a touch too lean before you familiarized him with good food). The nip taken from one of the ears sat atop his silvery, mussed locks. In that moment, you don’t see the misshapen, loveless thing he was beaten into— but rather the softness he worked to regain for you.

“When I know it’s manageable.”

If he feels unsure of himself- whether he can remain… civil, for lack of a better word, amidst the fervent haze that a mark would bring about— then you suppose you could wait for a bit longer.

“Okay,” you murmur with a faint, understanding smile, caressing one half of his face dotingly. You tilt your head slightly to plant a firm, benevolent kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“But you’ll always be a good boy to me, okay? I trust you. I told you before- you’re perfect-“ Rather roughly, he noses your head back into the pillow, readjusting his iron hold around you as he grumbles into your hair.

“…Hush. Now close your eyes and go back to bed. I’ll tell you when it’s ready to pull out.”

𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔, 𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔, + 𝒓𝒆𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 ♡

#sylus #sylus love and deepspace #sylus smut #love and deepspace smut #lads #lads smut #sylus x reader smut #sylus x mc #sylus x you #sylus x reader #sylus qin #hybrid #syluses #‧₊ 🍰.┊𝒄𝒂𝒌𝒆𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 #i feel like i hate this #but at the same time…#hard to hate sylus knot idk

2K notes · View notes

mihsella · 2 days ago

Text

That other side of you.

Minors DNI!!

Bob Reynolds / Void x Female Reader

Summary: Void has been growing desperate, seeing how you and Bob fucked whenever you guys wanted to. He also wanted his turn with you, he wanted you to know how good he could make you feel.

Warnings: Shameless smut, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dom and sub undertones (i think), rough sex, overstimulation (if you squint), small reference of substance abuse.

A little bit of cute romance Bob for like two lines lol!

————————————————————————

You had been dating Robert Reynolds for a while now. Ever since you first saw him, you felt pulled towards him, that weird gravitational attraction that you only get once in your life. His dark messy hair, his deep blue eyes, his charming good-boy smile, they melted your heart since day one.

You loved how he was when you two got intimate. He was soft, delicate, yet somehow desperate, almost submissive at times. He could be at your feet whenever you wanted him too, begging you to touch him, begging you for more. And you loved him like this, you loved how desired he made you feel.

You knew about the Void, he had told you about him after your first night together, expecting you to leave like everyone else did. But you? You stayed. You can't deny you were scared at first, you knew how hard it was for him to control it, to control him. Nevertheless, ever since he joined the Thunderbolts, things were actually looking brighter. Bob came into peace with Void, and Void came into peace with Bob. They even talked to each other and Bob even allowed Void to manifest himself and do everyday things. And whenever he did, he was surprisingly normal. You just chatted and kept him up with everything, he became like another friend to you, another version of the puppy eyed boy you loved.

You were already accostumed to seeing Bob speak to himself, you knew he was talking to Void. But lately he seemed jumpy, uncertain. Whenever he spoke to himself he made sure to leave the room, it was like he didn’t want you to hear him, to hear them. It wasn't until one morning, when you were sipping coffee, that your boyfriend approached you, eagerly sat down, and said;

"I want to talk to you about uhm....something."

"Oh, what is it babe? Everything ok? …..Is it something at work?" You asked shyly. His recent demeanor had you worrying that he may had relapsed, or had problems dealing with Void again.

"No, its just uhm. Its about Void" He said, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your eyes.

"Oh. Is he making you upset again?" You asked, eyes widening.

"No, its not that its just. You know how he has feelings too and needs too, right? Like he is kinda human after all….I guess. And, you know, uhm, we are like at some level the same person, so if I like something or need something he tends to feel the same way. That's why I let him take the lead sometimes, and talk to you, and go for walks, and eat and stuff" He is jumpy, shy, acting like the first time he ever talked to you. You must admit it, Bob was extremely timid, but now, he looked almost ashamed.

"I know that baby. I get that and I've told you I'm ok with that. I understand." You look deep into his eyes, stretching out your hand over the table to grab his. You knew he was insecure about his "condition”, yet you had never seen him this way.

“It’s just well, he had this idea, well I guess we had it cause I agreed and all. You know I love you so I guess he loves you, so…”

“So…?”

“So….ugh how the fuck do I say this…god” He brought his hands to his head, and furrowed his eyebrows. “Uhm…well..”

“Bobby, babe, you know you can tell me anything. You know I am willing to help you as long as it means you can control him and you guys can be at peace.” You looked at your boyfriend sincerely, you were truly willing to do anything for him.

“Well, he wants to…uhh…..he wants to fuck you”

“Oh” Your cheeks turned red. “I…I don’t know what to say” You can’t say you hadn’t thought about it before. About knowing how this other side of your boyfriend was, how he would touch you differently, feel you differently. But it was always just a fleeting thought. You never thought Bob would allow something like this.

“I mean if you don’t want to it’s fine”

“No no… I’ll do it” You smiled at him.

“Oh thanks babe really, I can’t thank you enough. This guy, you know, he was driving me crazy” He stood up, reached over and kissed your forehead, cupping your face in his calloused hands. “I love you so much” He smiled, his eyes brightening.

“I know” You smiled back.

He reached for your lips, pulling you into a soft, delicate kiss. And suddenly, he stopped. His eyes, still blue, turned somehow dark, like if a fog had taken over. He pulled away, smiling, he was still Bob but, not your Bob. He smiled cockily, confident, and looked straight at your lips. “Hey there”

You stood up, now aware. “Void..?” You looked straight into his eyes.

“In the flesh, baby” He pulled you into a long, deep kiss. His lips grazed yours roughly, he was desperate, hungry. His tongue exploring every single part of your mouth. His hands were everywhere, he grabbed your hair, cupped your face, touched your waist. It was so different from Bob’s delicate kisses, yet just as delicious. You replied back, putting your hands on his torso and sliding down, keeping up with all that he was giving you. He was so rough, so desesperate, you felt your whole body aching for him, that familiar feeling building up between your thights.

Sloppily, in between kisses, you made your way towards your bedroom. Clumsily tripping over stuff as you did. You got to your bedroom and he stopped, looking into your eyes “You are so beautiful��. He hugged you and held you up as he kissed you, slowly moving towards your neck. His hot breath against your skin made you feel otherworldly, you felt his desire in every single kiss. You moved your hands towards his shirt, trying to take it off without breaking the kiss. He looked down at you and smirked “Pathetic..” He cockily took his shirt off with just one hand, and took yours off just as easily. (God, has he been practicing this??) In a couple of swift movements you were completely naked, and him in his in underwear, his torso glowing under the sunlight.

“so fucking pretty for me…” He whispered, out of breath as he laid you in the bed. He climbed over you, his eyes locking with yours as he trailed kisses from your face, to your neck, and then to your torso. “So, so fucking pretty” He said as he took his mouth to one of your breasts. He kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue in slow, torturing circles around your nipple. Grabbing your other breasts with his free hand and pinching that nipple as he sucked. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue in your breasts, alternating between each one, kissing and grabbing, making you feel so sensitive. You were sure your breasts were already sore when you felt him start trailing his kisses down, his hot lips grazing through your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, you’ll forget you’re even dating goddamn Bob”.

He got to your clit and started kissing it, so slowly, yet it felt like so much. You looked down, into his sweet dark eyes, he looked beautiful. His long hair framing his face as he looked straight at you, face buried between your thighs. He went slowly on your clit, he wanted you to beg him, to make him know how hard you wanted him. “M…more”

“What was the baby?”

“More… please” You whined. You felt pathetic, writhing under this man. You felt his tongue slide through your folds, teasing them before he went all in, alternating between sucking and kissing your clit, and sliding his tongue through your folds. You moaned and whined, you felt it through your body, his tongue was hot against you. You felt yourself get wetter, you needed him, all of him, everywhere.

Almost as if he heard you, he suddenly added a digit into you, expanding and pumping. You couldn’t keep up with everything, his finger reached deep, into that sweet spot your boyfriend would always reach. Instinctly, you reached down, grabbing his soft hair and pushing him deeper towards you. He looked at you and smiled, he was so fucking cocky and you hated it, yet he made you feel so good, so used.

He inserted another digit and you felt your boyfriend’s cold rings against your entrance, his fingers curling as his tongue kept torturing your clit. Your moans were almost pornographic at this point. Loud, whiny, pathetic sounds came out of your mouth. “Those sounds baby, keep making them.” He said as he smirked at you, fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly. You felt the heat quickly building up, like you were about to spill in any minute. “M’gonna…gonna cum..” you managed to get out in between your moans. He smiled, and started sucking harder on your clit, keeping the same pace with his fingers. You quickly felt your core tensing, and with a moan came undone into his hands, breathing heavily and writhing from the pleasure. Your mind was foggy, and you saw stars.

“So good for me baby, aren’t you? Such a good girl” He took his hands towards your waist, and started trailing them through thighs, kissing them and caressing them. “That was so much..” You said, still slurring on your words. “Oh but it wasn’t enough for me baby.” You heard the smile in his words as he took off his boxers, carelessly tossing them to the side.

He climbed on the bed and aligned himself with your entrance, sliding his cock through your folds. You were so sensitive that it already felt like too much, and he hadn’t even entered you yet. He looked at you, grabbing your face as you felt him go in, causing you to moan. You were so wet for him that it just slid in, no pain. You were already used to your boyfriend’s dick yet seemed to always forget how utterly big he was.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, and started pumping into you slowly, his eyes praising you as he did. You felt him him hitting deep into your core. Slowly, torturing you, making you feel each and every trust. He slowly kissed your neck, leaving marks all over you as he steadily increased his pace. You felt how much he filled you, overwhelmed by how his cock felt against your folds, and how his mouth was nibbling the skin of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you dumb” he shamelessly whispered against your ear as he quickly started on a pace, going harder and faster into you. You were already so sensitive and now just felt completely cockdrunk. You couldn’t control the moans that were escaping you, and couldn’t even keep your legs straight, going limp under him, completely vulnerable to his touch.

He took notice of your reaction, and moved his hands towards your waist, pinning you down into the bed as he mercilessly fucked you. Each thrust leaving you out of breath and making your mind foggier. You could only feel him, it was so overwhelming yet so good. You could only feel him going faster, harder, giving you everything he had. You closed your eyes, unable to handle everything he was giving you. “Open your eyes, I want you to see this” he said, as you looked up and saw his hair framing his beautiful face.

His pace quickly became erratic, small moans escaping his lips as you felt that familiar feeling growing inside of you again. He kept holding down your waist as you whimpered, choking out every single time he hit that spot. He looked down on you, mouth open as he fucked you. Then, with one last long thrust, he came undone into you, filling your insides so perfectly. And so did you. Feeling your mind go completely blank and your body get overpowered by that heat, legs shaking with one last, loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, rolling over as he took deep breaths.

He looked at you. Your mind still foggy and fucked out of comprehension. “God, now I know why Bob loves you so much” He said as he cupped your face in one of his hands. Leaning in to kiss your forehead, and smiling as he looked into your eyes. You smiled back, catching your breath.

————————————————————————

This is my first fic here!! Taking any recommendations or prompts. Lowkey thinking about doing a sub!Bob fic. Tell me your thoughts!! Love you guys!! <3

1K notes · View notes

swtnjk · 3 days ago

Text

kuroo being a nerd while making you squirt for the first time

kuroo lays with his cheek on your thigh, his fingers twirling the hem of your shorts. he kisses your thigh, “baby…” he says softly.

you look down, “hm?” you put down your book. he pouts up at you, “i learned how to make you squirt while fingering you.”

you laugh, “what?” he nods. “i seen it! look!” he grabs his phone and opens twitter. he shoves his phone in your face, showing you a video.

you look at him, “seriously, kuroo?” he lays his head higher, on your stomach. “yes! i wanna try!” he whines. you put your book on the nightstand.

“fine.” he says a little yay! before removing your shorts. he’s fingered you before… just never made you squirt from fingering.

he kisses your panties, “remember when i ate you out… through your panties?” he asks. you cover your face, “don’t remind me.” he smiles, “you were super overstimulated… it’s because of the pressure and tension of—“

“baby..” you stop him. he nods, “sorry.” his fingers carefully remove your panties. he kisses your clit instantly.

you gasp, “kuroo…” you say softly. you look down at him, your head on your shoulder. he stares up at you as his tongue flicks on your bud.

“ready?” he asks. you nod, “mhm.”

he sucks on your clit as his slender fingers enter you. you moan softly, biting your bottom lip. he hums, “good… good girl. i got you.”

your head falls onto the soft pillow, “i’m gonna start now, kay?” he says. you nod again, “o-okay…” his fingers pump in and out of you.

your wetness makes a squelching noise, “oh fuck…” you whimper. he continues to finger you as his lips wrap around your clit.

“i feel you… i feel you squeezing my fingers. you close?” he asks. you moan, “yes… yes…” he sits up more, his large warm hand pressing against your stomach.

“does this hurt?” he looks at you. you open your eyes again, “no, baby…” you reassure him. “tell me when i find it.”

his hand presses harder… and harder until you gasp and tremble, “oh fuck— kuroo.. baby— right there!” you moan loudly. he smiles, “right there?” you nod frantically.

he spits on your cunt as he leans back down, his hand still pressured against your stomach. his tongue attaches back to your clit.

you tremble and moan repeatedly, “f-fuck! it feels like i’m about to pee—“ you throw your head back. he devours you, “i know… it says that squirting feels like you’re supposed to be. even though i would be fine with you peeing in my mouth—“

“shut up… shut up, kuroo,” you whine as your fingers grip his hair. “baby—“ you breath heavily as your juices cover his face. he continues to pleasure you as your high goes down. he gets up, slapping your cunt.

“good fucking girl, baby! you did so good!” he smiles. you look at him. his spiky black hair now messy and covering one of his eyes. he looks down at your sheets, “made a mess but it was worth it, right?” he kisses your cheek.

you lay down, shy and tired.

#kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x reader #kuroo x reader #kuroo smut #kuroo drabble #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo testuro #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro x you #hq x reader #hq drabble #hq kuroo #hq smut #haikyu x reader #hq scenarios #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios

1K notes · View notes

phantomwithbreakfast · 2 days ago

Text

DANNYMAY DAY 03: Potential

Day 02 • Day 04

⟢ Same story—I wasn’t really sure where to go with this prompt. I almost skipped it. But… for myself, I pushed through. (More under the cut)

Genre: Angst / Hurt / No Comfort • TW/CW: Identity Crisis — Emotional Distress • A prequel moment to Scarred For Half A Life (phic) • AU — OOC

Danny stared at the stars. They always looked so still, so distant, so… perfect.

Not like him.

He wasn’t still. He wasn’t distant. And he sure as hell wasn’t perfect.

Everyone said he had potential. Teachers, Jazz, even his dad once, when he thought Danny wasn’t listening.

“The boy’s got potential, Mads—he’s just gotta find his footing.”

But Jack didn’t know what it was like to exist between death and life. To feel your body hum with cold ectoplasm while your heart still dared to beat.

Danny knew he had potential. But what good was potential if you had no fxcking idea what to do with it?

On paper, his future could’ve been extraordinary. His grades weren’t terrible, he was smart. Resourceful. Quick on his feet. Able to calculate gravitational forces and make emergency repairs with duct tape and sheer panic. He was—in theory—perfect for NASA.

Hell, he could survive in zero gravity without oxygen. He could float, phase, shield. He could explore parts of space no one else dared to imagine. He could change the world, the universe. If only they would let him.

But the truth twisted like a knife in his chest.

He wasn’t just smart. He was haunted. By the screams he didn’t stop. The lives he couldn’t save. By every ghost he fought and every part of himself he lost to win. He was a protector. A hero, they said.

But… no one ever asked if he wanted to be.

And now—now the choice stood before him like two diverging paths in a frozen wasteland.

One direction meant staying. Fighting. Protecting Amity Park. Carving himself hollow to make space for the needs of everyone else. Losing sleep, losing friends, losing himself just to keep others safe. Because ghosts didn’t wait. Evil didn’t pause. And if he didn’t stop it, who would?

The other path felt like a dream half-buried in childhood. To fly—but not as Phantom. To go into space, not because he had to escape, but because he chose to go. To be Daniel James Fenton—human, flawed, determined. To wear a suit that didn’t glow with a ghostly aura, but shimmered with the promise of the stars.

But NASA wouldn’t take him if they knew. No one would. They’d study him. Dissect—no, vivisect him. Turn him into something to fear.

He was stuck.

Not because he couldn’t choose. But because both paths meant giving up a part of himself.

If he chose to be the hero, he might never become the boy who touched the stars. And if he chose the stars… who would protect them from what hides in the dark?

Danny’s fingers curled against the roof beneath him, trembling. The stars above flickered, but none of them answered.

And deep in his chest, beneath his ribs and soul and scarred identity, something cold pulsed.

He had potential.

But that didn’t mean… he had a future.

834 notes · View notes

magicaloneandmystery · 3 days ago

Text

an extra hand to help you work

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female!reader

summary: whatever he might say, Bucky cannot share you with the world. when he wants your attention, he'll get it one way or another.

warnings: mdni. teasing, fingering, a few hickeys, Bucky is a real tease in this one, pet names, mentions of oral

you were ignoring him.

not intentionally, of course, you just had some work to wrap up before you could join him and give him your full attention.

still, you were ignoring him.

Bucky Barnes does not pout but his lips were jutted out in a way that would resemble a pout. he would say he was sulking.

then, an idea came to him. a sure shot way of getting your attention.

he slid off his t-shirt, his sweatpants already hanging low. he knew this would distract you a little, but his plan was not just that. he made sure to spray on his cologne on him, knowing the effect it has on you.

when he entered the room, you were on the desk, typing away at your laptop.

"I'm just done, Buck," you said, sensing his presence. "just five more minutes."

he did not want to wait five more minutes.

so, he came closer to you, the smell of his freshly sprayed cologne distracting you for a moment. you looked at him, your eyes widening at your half naked boyfriend.

"wh- what are you doing?" you said, mind already clouding with the things you could be doing with him instead of finishing stupid work.

"I got tired of sharing you," he shrugged, making you stand up so he can sit on your chair and you on his lap. "c'mon, doll, let me help you finish this work."

your breath hitched, your pussy dampening at his low voice, his breath fanning over your ear, and his hands that were now roaming all over your chest.

"tell me what you're doing," he said, fondling your breasts. he realised you were not wearing a bra, a low hum in his chest appreciating the little detail. he pinched your nipples through the t-shirt you were wearing, a gasp leaving your mouth.

your eyes were closed, your head slightly bent towards him, work forgotten in front of you.

"c'mon, sweetheart," he said, his hands leaving you completely to prove his point. "I don't want to distract you. I promise to not touch you until you complete your work."

the shit eating grin in his voice told you he had already won this round. the little tease.

"Bucky, please," you whined. "please touch me."

"but what about the work," fake innocence coated his voice. "you gotta complete the work, baby. I'll reward you for it. instant gratification."

"okay," you said, hands returning to your laptop, eyes focusing on the document in front of you.

he was true to his words. his lips claimed your neck, while his hands started roaming your body again.

he was attentive, stopping his ministrations the moment you stopped working, keeping you half distracted and your heart beating wildly.

his hand moved down to tease the hem of your shorts before he slipped past the waistband, continuing his trek down your body. the heat from your core and your moist panties made him smirk, you could feel it on your neck.

he gave you a sharp suck and bite, his fingers pressing down over your core. "already wet?"

you had stopped working again, your mind focused on his hand. "mm hmm." you simply responded to his question.

"keep working, baby," he reminded you, rubbing you through your panties. you opened your legs wider, giving him easier access to your pussy.

when he stopped, you whined again, missing his touch.

"you're not working." he stated simply, looking at the document in front of you both.

"fine," you huffed, starting to type absolutely random words just to get him to finger you.

"good girl," he didn't notice that you were only typing the word pls over and over again. but you were rewarded nonetheless. his fingers moved inside your underwear.

you gasped, continuing to type random letters now, your eyelids dropping halfway, your head slightly bent forward.

Bucky found your clit easily, circling over it once before he dragged his finger down to your entrance, your wetness making things much easier for him. "you're so wet, baby." he teased in your ear before biting it.

you gasped, nodding, your head falling on his shoulder. that finally made Bucky look at the screen. he laughed, the sound reverberating in his chest, a satisfied rumble on your back.

"I guess you can technically say you're working," his eyes roamed the screen, random letters and numbers thrown together as you made a show of working. "your boss is gonna be mad at me again."

you moaned as his middle finger pushed past your entrance, filling you up, and his thumb continued to rub your clit. he sucked a few more hickeys on your neck, biting and kissing the bruises afterwards, while he fucked you on his finger.

your hips started rocking on his hand, desperate for him to go faster. his other hand went under your t-shirt, palming your breasts. he tugged your nipple at the same time he got his second finger inside you, a surprised yelp falling from your lips.

you were panting heavily on him, fucking yourself on his fingers, hands now intertwined in his hair, your work effectively forgotten.

Bucky had half a mind to tease you more, but you were being such a good girl, fucking yourself on him, ruining your work document just to please him, and the sounds out of you, the little moans, whimpers, and gasps, made him change his mind and give you an orgasm or two before he helped you complete your work.

he could feel you tighten around him, your muscles tensing on him as a sign of your incoming release. "Bucky, Bucky, Bucky," you continued to pant, hands tugging at his hair.

he bit your shoulder, his thumb and fingers fastening on you.

"come for me, baby," he whispered in your skin. "I'll clean you up with my tongue afterwards."

the filthy promise was what pushed you over the edge, your mind swimming with pleasure and Bucky. you moaned, a pornographic sound, the rocking of your hips slowing down.

"that's a good girl," he said, one final hickey on the side of your neck being followed by a kiss on your cheek.

you breathed heavily, leaning your entire weight on him, letting him hold you. you stayed like that, his fingers inside you, yours in his hair.

a small ding! on your laptop pulled both of you out of your bubble. it was your boss, asking you for the work that shouldn't have taken more than ten minutes.

you whined, turning your head to look at him with a pout. "can't I just tell her to fuck off?"

he chuckled. "you're turning into a bad girl, baby."

"you love it."

"I do."

#sr writes #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barns fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction

870 notes · View notes

cloveroctobers · 3 days ago

Text

forgive me | Elijah “SMOKE” Moore x black! reader

A/N: I’ll admit it, I’m a smoke girlie. I’m 100% a Annie x Smoke stan too yet I don’t think I’d do them justice so here you go 😆 Apparently I’ve been in a writing mood lately so although this turned out a little longer than intended…I hope you end up liking this too!

WARNINGS: language ofc + angst, mentions of sexual content, reader has a smidge of a back story but not too detailed, TW: alluding to DV, & self-harm.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

You were the aftermath.

Not the mud of the battlefield, not the adrenaline before Smoke took his place to shoot—just the leftovers of the war he stepped into when he couldn’t get his mind right.

He wouldn’t dare say her name in your bed but she was there in the way his hand tremors when he touched your skin, there when he had you on all fours, face smushed against the sheets that always smelled like him: tobacco, basil, and grief, she was there when he appreciated your body with care, encouraging you through it, she was there when he took proper care of his hair in the mirror before he got dressed to depart, followed with a fast kiss to your cheek and nothing more said, she was even there when your joy got too comfortable because that was something borrowed and not meant to be kept.

Unfortunately you still loved him.

Loved the way he carried himself whether alone or with Stack by his side, a brooding confidence that nobody wanted to fuck with and if they did, they’d never get the chance to do it again. Even if you loved him intently, it’s not like you did the best job keeping it quiet, since every time he showed up at your door, there was nothing but infatuation in your eyes.

There was no such thing as keeping things secret when it came to the subject of Elijah Moore.

You’d do anything for that man.

If he wanted you to take the wrap for him, whatever dirt he got up to in Chicago, you would in a heartbeat.

A foolish woman you were.

“Never love a man more than he loves you, you hear me? Don’t be a stupid girl because stupid girls are left wonderin’ while they go on and live like you never mattered.” Your momma told you from behind in the mirror as she helped you into an itchy and unflattering dress, since now you were the appropriate age to be wed.

The man you met prior was not the best suitor, a pig of a man with a wandering eye who had a good job as the head teller down at the bank, yet he never communicated well enough for you and as soon as that job insecurity situation took place, his frustrations were taken out on you. Once you were able to recover enough to pack your things, you got the call that your fiancé was murdered in a bank robbery gone wrong.

The thing about love is…it could be many things and when you looked back at your time with that particular man…sometimes love could simply be nothing at all.

You heard the whispers around town more than ever, especially when it became known about you and Elijah but there wasn’t much shame in your heart.

Something about Elijah Moore made you eager to love! Sure you had a few that tried after you buried your fiancé but none of them made your blood feel as if it was on fire or as if your heart was in their hands.

You’ve never loved a man quite like Smoke and although he’s never made promises to you, him always coming back was the next best thing.

He ended up arriving to your door step on a rainy night, standing on your porch with a tight expression on his face. Like he had something to get off his chest and that you had no choice but to listen.

You would anyway.

He wanted to officially cut this off, much to your confusion until you got close enough to him underneath the porch light. You could smell her on him.

A sad smile you memorized was on your face at the realization that you were being pushed away. “Forgive me, for loving you like you were meant to be mine. When that would never be so.”

He doesn’t say anything at first, keeping his hands clasped in front of him with the brim of his hat clenched beneath his fingers, and drenched from the storm. You still wanted to offer him to come inside, let him dry off, fix up his suit as best as you could, until the storm passed but it felt as if that storm was just arriving.

“It ain’t even like that,” he finds the words, “If things were different—

You shake your head, hand still resting on the doorframe, “But they’re not Elijah. You belong with your lifeline…I just kept her spot warm. Does she know that? People talk even out in the wetlands.”

Smoke doesn’t want to answer that, “I just came here to let you know that this is done. I made a commitment to my wife so I’m gonna honor that.”

He looked at you as if you were a pebble he’d kick to the side in the dirt. Something to just flick away and that is when you knew that only love could hurt like this.

Momma was right.

Steam swirls from the gun as the group stands watching in horror while Cornbread lay on the ground with bullets to the face. Footsteps are heard not too long after that, kicking up dirt with each step, a pebble rolled their way and Smoke himself feels his breathing get caught in his throat.

“Well that wasn’t nice,” you state peering down at cornbread who’s barely twitching, trying to come back from his rest.

Your eyes shimmer white in the night as you wave your fingers mainly at the part owner of the juke joint. “Hey there handsome…love what you done with the place.”

Making your way over, the group immediately step back into the space, making your smile appear more sinister than friendly.

“Don’t you come no closer!” Annie warns, her Cajun accent beating strong.

You stop right at the door, “Alright, I’m gettin’ the feeling I’m not wanted here. Yet I just thought I’d stop on by.”

“Fuck happened to y’all,” Smoke says your name, tone having an edge to it, almost as if he cared.

Annie sends him a look, already putting two and two together, it was simple maths.

Sighing you begin to pace back and forth, “If you think this is your fault, then let us put you out of your misery, so you can see the better side of things.”

It was a commercial smile on your face that would have been comical if watched on the big screen.

“There ain’t nothin’ better about the side you’re on! Now you best go on before you get the same treatment as cornbread.” Annie points, although she’s not big on guns, she would snatch it from her husband’s hands to do what needed to be done if he wouldn’t.

You laugh, “There’s no need for violence…I just wanted a place on the dance floor with you folks, Mrs. Annie.”

“Well you weren’t invited and still aren’t.”

Placing your hands on your hips you let a dramatic puff of air fall from your lips, “That’s kinda tough you know? The world is full of enough hate instead of love and that should be the number one thing reciprocated. But that was my biggest problem.”

“Oh lord,” Slim comments as he takes another swing from his flask, “We’re about to see the theatrics. Like this is some fucken broadway musical. Which I ain’t much of a fan of. So lady, you not comin’ up in here. Get gone.”

Your eyes flick back to Smoke, who has a furrow in between his brows as his eyes focus in on you. You still looked like you but the air that surrounded you was not.

If Smoke squinted hard enough, maybe you’ll go back to being you and not this cold shell that stood before him on an October night. You were the woman that crept into his life when he didn’t think he had anymore love to give. What type of love did he give you exactly? Smoke remembered how your skin glowed in the diner you worked at, how you kept on working until the wee hours of the morning, smile in your eyes although your feet ached and pulsated, baking those delicious pecan pies that made your hands swell and skin blot up, and how you seemed reluctant at first to accept a ride back to yours from a man you only heard of but never interacted with until that day back in June.

“You’re dead,” his eyes are hard on you but voice low like a just turned off engine, “Ain’t you?”

The sourness seeps right through at that last remark.

There’s no warmth in your eyes this time while you smile once more. You’ve stopped pacing, pressing your hands into your hips as you cross one ankle over the other, “To be dead is to be reborn, Smoky. I’m more alive than I was before.”

Grace scoffs from her spot beside Slim, who peers over at her with his round eyes. He was thinking the same thing: dead is dead.

Annie feels her own fingers twitch as her gaze shifts from you and back to her husband. It was clear that there was a hint of regret on his face, as if he could have prevented your fate especially experiencing loss after loss.

Before he has time to fully process what you’re saying to him you’re talking again, moving closer while they step back. Well, except for Smoke who still stands with his smoking gun. Annie has her hand on his bicep, tugging while you’re eye to eye and from his peripheral he sees cornbread starting to rise.

“You shouldn’t keep that sadness on your face, darling.” Your voice sounds like wind-chimes against a brewing storm, a supposed soothing sound yet a sign of chaos, “It wasn’t all bad and it doesn’t have to remain that way either. Remy knew just as I that it would have been a lonely life without you. I wasn’t the mistake, you were my consequence.”

Smoke doesn’t flinch but your words surely prick. Like Ivy curling around his entire frame and squeezing the mess out of his heart. His grip on his gun tightens, not to fire but like he’s holding on when he said he was letting go.

Annie’s hand presses firmer into his sleeve. To remind him that he’s still flesh and blood.

Smoke’s brown eyes remain on you, he doesn’t blink. He tried to sweep you to the side like you were something to be disregarded, that was his choice and now this is the cost.

He chose Annie.

His wife.

Mother of his late child.

The love of his life in every lifetime.

Their grief, their healing, over a minute with you.

Yet you’re here, at the space he bought with his twin, success right in his hands, and you’re wearing a smile that’s too still and doesn’t match the shade of eyes he was used to.

The shade he poured into when you lay your head in his lap on your couch. Talking about any and everything, while he quietly drank in every word.

These eyes weren’t the same.

They’re blinding like headlights during a winter fog.

“That man ain’t no damn savior,” Smoke adds your name, trying to convince you, as if that would snap you out of it but the damage was done, “He’s a leech in suspenders with a banjo strapped to his chest. Whatever he said, ain’t the got damn gold at the end of the rainbow.”

Slim snorts at this but it’s clear he agrees.

There’s a beat of silence that even the wind pauses. Your head tilts to the side, “Twin would disagree and you’ll see soon too.”

And your eyes shine a reflective white, almost gold as they take in the blood that decorated the white of Smoke’s sleeve. He’s reminded of what lays guarded by Sammie towards the back of the juke joint. This makes Smoke sharply inhale, raising his gun now to point right at you.

Mockingly you raise your hands up and step back some.

“You’ll get the fuck on if you know what’s good for you.” Smoke gritted, finger on the trigger.

Despite his anger Annie can sense there’s still a hint of hesitation—a what if swirling beneath his ribcage—even when Cornbread is on his feet from behind just watching with his battered face.

“Once upon a time I thought that was you but…I’ve got a new appreciation now, so I forgive you, Smoky.”

A wink is sent his way before you allow your stare to linger on his face. It was long enough to hear a crack rip through the air, as if it was splitting the earth wide open.

“You know I treated you good through the blues and loved too much you know?” Your voice is twice as dark as you create more space, walking backwards to stand beside Cornbread, “Maybe we were just business while you were always a family man. I can’t limit myself no more though.”

Smoke’s jaw is tight, feeling the weight of the gun in his grasp but he still doesn’t pull the trigger.

A small part of him still feels for you.

He didn’t miss the mark on your sleeve, which showed your skin to him with each pace and movement of your hands. Smoke also didn’t miss the bite that covered the mark you inflicted on that same wrist.

It still looked fresh.

This was truly happening.

His voice cuts through the sudden quiet like gravel beneath his good shining shoes, “You weren’t just business,” he says, low and certain. “You were the part of me that couldn’t stay… and the reason I made it back to what could.”

He briefly glanced over at Annie who dipped her head at him. She understood all layers of Elijah Moore, whereas you only had a corner piece but even that was hauntingly beautiful.

“Don’t twist that into nothin’ smaller than it was. So forgive me for not sayin’ that before.” Smoke speaks to you, which made your own eyes flick back and forth between the couple.

There was a reason why they made it back to each other. How Annie’s hand stayed steady on his sleeve. She seemed to have a silent understanding too. They worked so well together yet Smoke didn’t want you to go out thinking that what you had was nothing.

Or disposable.

He was not your past or chance in the afterlife.

But he was something.

He wanted you to know that, honor it.

Smoke wanted you to just appreciate your time for what it was and respect where he stood now. Smoke wished he would have said that much sooner so maybe the Irish lurker wouldn’t have gotten to you during the hollow echo of your blues.

It was your turn to not have a verbal response. The glint of your eyes in the distance are no longer white-hot but human, familiar. It remained the color he’s known you to have. The ones he remembered back on the couch, the ones he felt like he could sink into if he fully allowed himself to. A softened glance is there. He could see the water rising in them, which made Smoke deeply inhale.

Suddenly you and Cornbread’s head turn to your right, listening to something the rest inside the joint couldn’t hear.

Something was coming.

Cornbread offers his arm for you to loop with his.

You take it as if he’ll keep you upright and begin to lead the way, away from the building. You cast a final glance over your shoulder, a look that doesn’t beg to be remembered but will be in every universe.

Annie doesn’t say a thing but Smoke feels the way she shifts beside him now, her fingers ease their grip, an empathic understanding when she doesn’t have to give a ounce of it.

This was their goodbye.

Smoke watches as you and cornbread become shadows of the night.

He lowers his gun, steps back, and closes the door.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁

FIN.

🏷️: @marley1773 + @christinabae

#Spotify #sinners #sinners film #sinners movie #sinners 2025 #sinners x reader #smoke x reader #smoke x black! reader #smoke x annie #elijah moore #elijah moore x reader #Elijah Moore x black reader #elijah smoke moore #queued #michael b jordan #michael b. jordan #michael b jordan x reader

573 notes · View notes

rafesangelita · 3 days ago

Text

♡ sheriff!rafe and farmer’s!daughter!reader get into an argument after an old friend spots them together..

warnings: implied age gap, secrecy, implication of rafe and reader’s age gap being taboo, rafe calls reader his niece, arguing, crying, angst, brief mention of reader’s mom leaving her and her dad, reassurance + comfort, fluff

wc: 2.1k

rafe glanced around the room, his guard standing tall as you hummed to the song playing over the old speakers from the jukebox in the corner. flipping through the restaurant’s menu, you looked up and kicked rafe under the table once you saw how tense he was. “you’re stressin’ me out, can you stop that already?” you rolled your eyes, wishing he wasn’t so uptight about someone from back home seeing you two out together. you were already in a different town for crying out loud!!

rafe grumbled an apology before taking a swig from his beer, his eyes softening once he saw the slightly hurt expression on your face. “we’re not committing a crime by having dinner.. for once, can you just let loose someplace that isn’t in private?” rafe swallowed thickly, giving you a curt nod before the waitress walked up to your booth. “are you ready to order babe?” she chirped, flashing you a sweet smile while she held her pen to her notepad. “yes ma’am, may i get your classic cheeseburger, and make the fries extra crispy with that, please?” she hummed, quickly scribbling on the paper.

“and for you.. sir?” you cleared your throat awkwardly at the formality, considering just moments ago she called you ‘babe’. ignoring the implication that rafe was obviously an older gentleman, he gave the waitress his order and let out a scoff once she disappeared into the kitchen. “i think you care too much about what people think about us, rafe.” you took a sip from your cherry cola, your feet rocking back and forth in your boots as the man in front of you eyed you carefully. “i am the way that i am because i don’t want people to scrutinize you. you could only imagine the type of things people say when they see people in a relationship like ours.”

you shook your head, sighing out in frustration. “we’ve been screwing in the motel across the street all weekend, haven’t we?” rafe’s eyes widened at your words, his voice lowering as he leaned in and gritted his teeth. “will you keep your voice down?!” he whispered. “i’m just saying! it doesn’t matter what anyone thinks, we’re far past the point of caring, no?” rafe pinched the bridge of his nose, the adam’s apple in his throat bobbing as he gripped the beer in his hand even tighter. “yeah, you would think that.” your head shot up at his words, your gaze narrowing at him as you felt your stomach churn.

“and why is that? because i’m too young to understand?” you felt your patience dwindling down with each passing second rafe didn’t respond, “i’m not too young for you when you want me to understand how you want me to suck you off.” rafe blinked, his nostrils flaring as he adjusted the hat on his head. “don’t do that.” he warned you, his voice coming out hard and still. maybe it was the angry feeling you had brewing in your chest, but suddenly you felt the urge to keep pushing his buttons. “don’t do what? tell you the truth?” here we go..

“you know— you go around town sitting up on your moral high horse, acting like you’re so righteous, but really you’re just like every man out there. you want to have your way with me, which you ultimately do, but you want me without facing the reality of it, including getting weird looks and being judged. i get in trouble with the law, i party, i drink and i cuss and i look good doing it, and you can’t stand that i don’t give a single fuck about what people think of me. if i cared enough to keep up ‘appearances’ like you do, i wouldn’t be sitting here with you right now, let alone allowing you to take me to an entire different town all so that we could share a fucking meal together. why don’t you try understanding that, asshole.”

rafe tongued his cheek as he glared at you, genuinely at a loss for words. just as rafe opened his mouth to say something, another man’s voice cut in. “holy shit. s’that you, rafe?” fixing your attention on the man who approached your table, rafe couldn’t help but feel his heart drop to his stomach upon recognizing the familar face. “barry?” he got up, extending an arm, “shit, man, how long has it been?” you watched as they shook hands, both of them catching up as if you weren’t sitting right in front of their faces. it wasn’t until you locked eyes with the beefy brunette before he excused himself.

“sorry,” he cleared his throat, “how rude of me.. who’s this pretty little thing?” you smiled sheepishly as he reached for your hand, your cheeks heating once his lips met your knuckles. rafe couldn’t stand the sight. he felt like he could break his beer bottle over barry’s head right now. “this is—” you cut rafe off, completely ignoring the heat of his gaze burning into the side of your face, “y/n.” barry smiled, the gold glint of his tooth catching your attention. “my, that’s sure a fitting name for such a sweet—” rafe stepped between you two, a look of warning passing through his eyes.

“y/n, this is barry, we went to the same police training academy way back in the day.” barry stood upright, his hand coming up to stroke his goatee. “it’s nice to meet you, ‘pretty..” you didn’t miss the way barry’s eyes traveled down your cleavage, his tongue poking out as he ran the muscle along his bottom lip. “she’s my niece, actually, we’ll be heading back to town soon.” the way everything came to a screeching halt, you could’ve sworn you a car crashed inside your mind when those words left rafe’s mouth. barry visibly recoiled, his eyesbrows shooting up at the false revelation.

“oh, wow! that’s great, that’s great..” he trailed off, pursing his lips together awkwardly as the silence between him and rafe stretched beyond their comfort. you still couldn’t believe your ears, surely they were playing tricks on you, right?

..right?

you decided right then and there that two can play at that game. “you should’ve told me you had some hot friends, uncle, i would’ve hitched a ride back to town a long time ago!” you smiled, resting a hand on barry’s arm, “where are you headed off to, handsome?” rafe was sure his face matched the color of the deep red walls of the restaurant, his fists clenching at his sides as he watched you tenderly stroke another man’s flesh. without warning, rafe yanked you up from your seat, a surprised yelp sounding from your lips as he angrily guided you out of the diner.

“it was nice seeing you, man, i’ll catch you around.” rafe didn’t even so much as spare barry a single glance as he dumped you back on your feet outside, an irritated look written all over your face. “your niece?!” feeling your skin grow hot with rage, you shoved him away before he could get close to you again. crossing your arms over your chest, you ran across the street back to the motel, ignoring his calls as he chased after you. bursting through the door of your shared room, you locked it behind you before rafe could catch up. “let me in!” he banged on the thick wood, the force alone seemingly making the walls shake.

“just leave! leave and don’t come back!” you shouted, tears now streaming down your face. for the first time during this entire thing you’ve had going on with rafe, you felt complete and utter shame. unlike him, he’s been living with it knowing that being with you wasn’t socially acceptable. he knew he had a reputation to uphold but he found himself unable to think about anything or anyone else after he first saw you that night topper dragged you into the station. he knew it was wrong, but quickly you had him doing things and feeling things he had never felt or done before. all of it was fucked up.

“please let me in, i just wanna talk to you.. i need you to hear me out and let me explain.” you hiccuped, your chin wobbling as you shook your head at his desperate plea. “you should’ve never let things go this far if you didn’t want me. i don’t need you, rafe.” of course, that was a lie. you had already let yourself become too emotionally invested in this man for you to really mean that, and you hated yourself for it. “i don’t need to hear shit, i heard enough already.” rafe sighed, his eyes screwing shut as he let his fist fall from the door. knowing he was going to have to get in there one way or another, rafe made his way to the outdated receptionist desk where he asked for another room key.

sniffling, you laid yourself down on the bed, your cheeks damp as you dried your face. you just wanted to go home already and forget about everything that transpired, forget about him. speaking of.. you groaned when you heard the lock click open, rafe stepping through the door shortly after. “i’m not talking to you.” you scooted further up the bed as he got closer, his hands shooting up in defense. “you don’t have to, i just want you to listen to what i have to say— can i sit right here?” you eyed the corner of the bed furthest from you before looking away from him.

taking that as you bidding him your permission, he sat down, hating the amount of space between you two. “i’m sorry,” he started, “i’ve never been in a predicament like this, alright? i don’t know the first thing about being with someone, let alone with someone like you. we’re nothing alike, but i find myself drawn to you anyways. i get mad at you, and i tell you shit, because i care. i care about how you go through this world, and i care about how people treat you. i hate hearing the way people talk about you, ‘saying that you just tear through town causing all sorts of trouble when they don’t know anything about you.” rafe swallowed thickly.

“you don’t think i know that already? rafe, my mom skipped town because she decided that the country life wasn’t what she wanted. she left me and my dad for the city when we both needed her and he tried his best to keep me in line, and look where that got me. I’ve been making my own decisions and getting criticized for it for a long time already, i’ve heard just about everything in the book. hell, i find it strange when i don’t get ugly looks. it’s you who can’t stand that idea.” hearing you acknowledge what he’s been scared of all along tugged at his heartstrings.

“if i want to go around screwing with a sheriff then i’m going to do it without caring about anyone else’s feelings but my own. i can’t even say that i just ‘like’ you because i feel way more for you than that.” you knew what you were saying was basically a confession right now, but you didn’t care. rafe felt his chest threatening to cave in on itself as he watched the way your features softened. you loved him while he had been keeping you at arm’s length at that wasn’t fair. with tension still lingering in the air, rafe was debating on whether or not you’d give him a right hook if he tackled you into a hug right now.

“i know we’re fighting, but come here..” at this, you met his gaze. as much as you wanted to hold a grudge and make him feel what you felt when he introduced you as something you’re not, you needed to feel his arms around you more than anything else. jaw clenching, you stood up and made your way over to where he sat. with hesitant hands, rafe held onto your waist before embracing you and taking you into his lap.

“i’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head, “i’m gonna work on my own shit, i swear it to you.” you let yourself be fully embraced by him, the smell of his aftershave providing you with an odd sense of comfort. “mhhm..” you hummed, refraining from smiling as best as you could. “no i mean it,” he stared down at you, “but i need you to promise me that you’ll work on cleaning up your act. i can’t follow you around in my patrol car every second of the day.” technically rafe already did that, but you figured you could make some changes too if he was more than willing to do the same.

“fine, but just know this; if you ever call me your niece again, you’re gonna have to throw away the key next time i get sent to the station.”

thank you nonnie for celebrating with me ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

570 notes · View notes

smutoperator · 1 day ago

Text

My Naughty Niece

Lee Hyunseo (Leeseo) x Male Reader

Part 4 of 4 of All In Family

Tags: accidental cumshot, bleeding, condom, couch sex, creampie, cum eating, defloration, domination, facefucking, first anal, inexperienced girl, mating press, nieceseo, painal, pervy uncle, standing sex, teen, thighjob, titfucking

Word count: 5454

Between touring, comebacks, and fanmeetings , it had been a long time since you last saw your niece Hyunseo. In fact, this was the first time you would see her as an adult. And just as you were preparing to see her, the doorbell rang.

"Hello, uncle," Leeseo said as you opened the door. You could barely recognize her. Her development over the past few months was remarkable. "Who is that girl? She is so hot. Is this really my niece?" you thought to yourself as you gave Leeseo a few greeting kisses.

Leeseo walked across your house, going to your spacious living room. You were still baffled by how hot she looked, trying not to have feelings for your niece. But her pretty face, her honey thighs, her sexy butt, and her increasingly growing boobs made that quite hard.

Leeseo smiled at you as she kept moving. "Make yourself at home," you told her, noticing as she took her jacket off that she wasn't wearing a bra, her nipples poking out of her shirt and leading to more dirty thoughts about her. Leeseo looked at her beautiful self in the mirror, wearing just that shirt and a very small skirt that exposed her cheeks. She kept playing with you. "Uncle, it feels like you never saw me before," she said to you.

"I'm sorry, you look so... different," you told Leeseo. "Yes, we all grow up; I'm not that cute baby I used to be," she answered you. "Yes, but you have really grown up a lot," you told her. "Or maybe you haven't seen me in quite a while," she replied.

You followed Leeseo as she kept walking. God damn it, you could see her cheeks popping out, finally taking the initiative to touch them. "You seem very interested in my body, uncle," she said. "Oh, it's nothing; I was just giving you a little cute patting," you told her. "Oh uncle, I wasn't born yesterday," she answered you. "Well, 18 might as well be yesterday," you push back.

"You've been looking so hot now, Hyunseo. Who taught you to look this sexy?" you told her. "Yujin unnie," Leeseo promptly answered. "Looks like she's been a good leader then," you answered. "Definitely, she's made sure to let all of us grow up well; she's been almost like a second mother to me," Leeseo continued. "That's good to hear," you told Leeseo. "Thanks, uncle," she answered you. "But I want to make a request to you," she says. "What kind of request?" you ask her.

"Uncle, can I suck your cock?"

"Hyunseo, I don't know about that; you're my niece," you tell her. "Please, uncle, I'm so hungry. Yujin unnie told me if I wanted to become a proper adult, I needed to suck a cock, but I was so scared to do that to one of my co-hosts at Inkigayo, so I decided I wanted your cock to be my first," she told you.

"Fine, you say to Leeseo, unzipping your pants and pushing your already throbbing cock out of it. "It's so hard already, uncle. Did I do that to you?" she asks. "Yes, you did, you naughty little tiger," you answer her as Leeseo puts her hands on your shaft for the first time.

Leeseo strokes your cock a few times, still shocked with the size of it. "Yujin unnie said they can get really big, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it with my own eyes," she said, smiling at you. She started quite slow, just closing her eyes and licking your tip, not going much further than that, you enjoying watching her take it in her mouth and sweep it in her tongue.

"Hmmm," you groaned as Leeseo didn't go much further beyond the tip, still testing waters as she had never sucked a cock before. "You know you can take it deeper," you said to her. "I don't know if I can; it's so wide it barely fits in my mouth," she answered to you.

"Look at me, I know you can take it," you told Leeseo, pushing your hips a bit. She finally gained the encouragement she needed, but first, she licked the side of your shaft to get it wet before letting you push deeper in her mouth, but not much, as you only got a third of your 9-inch length inside it. She kept stroking it, trying to gain more confidence, but ultimately resorting to the safety of just sucking your tip.

Leeseo takes her shirt off, showing you her juicy tits. "I saw you were staring at them, uncle," she tells you. "I can't blame you; they have been growing a lot lately," she says. You reach to grope her tits, Leeseo tying her hair up and sucking your cock a little bit more, once again focusing her attention on the tip.

You sit on your living room's couch and let Leeseo keep sucking your cock. She finally takes it a little deeper in her mouth, trying to test herself, but still finds it too big. She picks up some speed, you enjoying her cute yet inexperienced blowjob. "Look at me," you tell her, loving watching her pretty face get impaled on your massive cock.

Leeseo climbs on the couch, trying to push your cock deeper in her throat. You can tell she's still struggling with it but decides to help, grabbing her head and pushing it a bit down your shaft, not taking more than half your length in her throat but still keeping a steady pace to help Leeseo get accustomed to your cock.

Your thrusts up Leeseo's face are so soft they barely count as facefucking. Leeseo tries to finally get more of your cock in her mouth. "Fuck," you say, kissing her and reaching under her skirt to finger her pussy. "You seem really interested in my pussy, uncle. Can I rub your cock in it?" she asks.

"Sure," you answer Leeseo, who lifts her skirt and pulls her panties to the side, grinding her virgin folds against your already throbbing shaft. She takes it slow, moving it up and down her entrance, moaning softly as she does it. "Oh shit, that's such a good sensation," you tell Leeseo as she pushes the tip of your cock closer to her clit, keeping the rubdown going.

"Fuck, that's so good," you tell Leeseo, her increasing the pace of the rubdown, grinding your cock very fast against her cunt. "Fuck, right there," you tell her. "Are you enjoying it, uncle? Yujin unnie says guys really like it when you do it to them," Leeseo says.

Leeseo grinds really fast on your cock, putting it at her mercy. "Ahh," you moan, her enjoying the friction between your shaft and her pussy lips, even slapping your tip a little bit against her clit. She teases you for a bit until finally putting just a little of your shaft inside her.

Your niece's virgin pussy is so tight and warm even your very experienced cock struggles inside it, her walls squeezing you hard from the get-go. "Ah, ah, ah, ah," Leeseo softly moans, you pumping her pussy as she pulls her panties to the side. "Oh, oh, oh, oh," she continues to moan.

"Fuck," Leeseo exclaims as your cock gets deeper in her pussy. The more you fuck her, the more you feel like you're not gonna last long. She tries to bounce on your cock, her cute tits jiggling as your thrusts get harder, you having to stop after a bit just to survive.

"Fuck, I'm gonna," you can't even finish the sentence, pulling your cock out of Leeseo's tight pussy and unloading your cum all over her midriff. She promptly picks it up to taste. "It's so salty, Uncle," she says, taking it in her mouth and cleaning herself up.

"Hyunseo, your pussy is just too tight; I think I'll need some extra help," you tell her. "Stay here, I'm going upstairs and will be back soon," you say. You go to the bathroom, taking some stuff that will help you against the incredibly tight pussy of your niece, before going back downstairs and meeting Leeseo in the same place you left her off.

"I have to get my cock hard first; can you help me, Hyunseo?" you ask her. "Sure," she answers. Leeseo covers the bottom part of your body with a blanket, sucking your cock under it and trying to take it deeper this time. "Hmmm," you groan. "Are you enjoying my hidden blowjob, uncle?" she asks.

Leeseo removes the blanket, your already throbbing cock all over her mouth. "God damn it," you groan, Leeseo twisting your cock and spitting on it, not getting afraid anymore to use the lessons she learned from Yujin. "You didn't come to play this time, Hyunseo, did you?" you ask, spanking Leeseo's beautiful young ass as she bends over your boy.

"Oh my God," you groan as Leeseo bobs her head hard on your cock. You kiss her cock-filled mouth as she keeps stroking you, spanking her ass a few times. "You really seem to like my ass, uncle," she says.

You pull Leeseo's panties down, massaging her pussy as she strokes your cock, reaching to also grope her perfect tits. "Ahhhhh," she moans, your hands all over her young pussy, you pushing her in your direction to kiss her while she tries to keep her efforts on your cock.

Leeseo's pussy gets fingered hard. "Fuck," she moans, you muffling it with kisses. "Uncle, you're going too fast," she says. "Am I?" you ask her, giving her pink pussy a few more taps.

You suck Leeseo's perky tits as your hand runs circles on her clit. "Fuck," she continues to moan, getting used to your strong stimulation as you worship her beautiful teen body. You take your shirt off, pushing her towards your cock and enjoying her moving her head all over it. "Yes, baby, perfect," you say to her, running your hands on her ass while she spits on your cock. She dives towards your balls, showing much less restraint this time and jerking your cock off strongly.

You dive your face between Leeseo's boobs, sucking them like a baby. "God, they are so big, and you're only 18," you tell her. "Glad you like them, uncle," she says, moaning as you grab them with both hands and bring them closer to your mouth, before letting her move back to deep-throat your cock. "Oh my God, yes," you say, praising her efforts.

"Touch your pussy while you suck my cock," you tell Leeseo, who obliges. "Keep going, don't stop, do it, do it," you say as she deepthroats your cock again. You push her pussy against your head, eating it out while giving some slaps to her big tits. "Holy shit, uncle, that's so hot," she says, reaching to stroke your cock while you keep eating her pussy.

"SHIT," Leeseo screams as you tongue all over her young clit. She pants, spasms running over her midriff. "That's so good, that's so good," she says, you getting her body on top of yours and enjoying every second of that young pussy in your mouth.

"Please fuck me, uncle," Leeseo begs. "Then bring the condom to me," you order her. Leeeseo obliges, breaking the condom envelope with her mouth and slowly wrapping it around your cock and then gently stroking it with her beautiful feet afterwards.

Leeseo bends over as you slowly insert your cock in her tight pussy again. She moves her hips, pushing your cock deeper in her pussy. "Did Yujin teach you that?" you ask her. "Yes," she answers, softly moaning as she takes more and more inside. Soon, you take control, grabbing her waist and giving her slightly faster thrusts that make her tits jiggle.

"OHHHHH," Leeseo screams as you grab her bouncy boobs. "Ahhhh, ahhhhh," she moans, you enjoying it. "Wanna sit on it?" you ask her. "Sure, uncle," she answers, you sitting on the couch and getting ready for Leeseo to bounce on your cock, firmly grabbing her beautiful tits. "The more I look at them, the bigger they get," you tell her. "Oh, thanks, uncle," she says as she prepares to ride you.

"Let me try a different hole now," you say to Leeseo. "You want my ass, uncle? I'm so scared," she answers you. "Don't be; take it slow if you want to," you promise her. "Yujin unnie said you get accustomed after a while, but I never had a cock in my ass," she continues.

Leeseo moves up and down your cock, you grabbing her ass as she moans, increasing her speed at each move. "Don't stop, don't stop, ahhhh," she continues to moan, looking very sexy while getting herself impaled on your cock.

Her virgin asshole is so insanely tight it makes her pussy look like an easy job.

"Oh yeah," Leeseo moans, her tits all over your face, you sucking them as your cock gets deeper and deeper in her ass. "AHHHH FUCK," she screams, bouncing faster than ever and driving you to the edge. "Keep going, baby," you tell her, Leeseo's hair getting messy as she rides your cock.

Leeseo gets herself in one of the couch's arms, you now getting full control to fuck her ass. "HMMMMM," she moans, clearly starting to feel some pain as your cock gets deep in her butt. "HMMM, HMMM, HMMM, HMMMM," she tries to hide it, you moving her to a spooning position now and groping her tits.

Leeseo fingers her pussy, trying to deal with the heat as your cock makes her asshole very sore. "AHHHHHH," she screams, your balls clapping against her cheeks. "Come on," you tell her, fucking her ass faster than ever, Leeseo closing her eyes and feeling a lot of pain, putting all her fingers in her pussy to cope with it as you don't care about her asshole being a virgin one; in fact, that makes you fuck her even harder.

"FUCKKKKK, AHHHHHH!" Leeseo screams, fingering her pussy like a maniac now as she can barely take it. You keep relentlessly fucking her ass, eventually getting close as the tightness of her hole is too much for you to handle. "Come here, stroke that cock, and make me cum," you tell her, Leeseo promptly obliging and jerking it off despite her very sore butt, giving your very fast strokes and smiling at you as you start groaning as you bust your cum all over that condom.

"Holy shit, that's a lot of cum, uncle; glad you liked my ass," Leeseo says. "Well, it's all yours now," you say, kissing her and removing your condom for Leeseo to taste your cum. "It's so delicious," she says. "I knew you would like it," you tell her as you head upstairs.

A few hours pass by as you finally leave your bedroom to take a shower. As you shower, all you can think of is your naughty niece Leeseo, her beautiful young body, stroking your cock in the shower until you paint the box walls with a nice thick white load. Leeseo now occupies your whole mind, and you feel like you need to fuck your niece again as soon as possible.

Luckily, you wouldn't have to wait long. As soon as you open the door of your bedroom, you find Leeseo lying on your bed, wearing nothing on top, her pale skin and perky tits in full display, and just a sleeping pantyhose at the bottom. "Uncle, I'm so horny I can't sleep," she says.

You give Leeseo some kisses on both her mouth and boobs, making her smile at you. "I think I've got the perfect sleeping pill for you, Hyunseo," you tell her. "You do, uncle?" she asks. "Yes, right between my legs," you say, tossing your towel out.

"Get on your knees," you tell Leeseo as she follows and starts massaging your cock. "You look so beautiful, Hyunseo," you tell her. "Thanks, uncle," she answers, grabbing your cock and licking the tip of it. "Such a good girl," you tell her, Leeseo taking your cock very slowly and teasing you.

You grab Leeseo's hair and start fucking her face, making her gag. "Look at me while you take this cock," you tell her. Leeseo tries to bob her head on it as you push it deeper in her mouth. "Such a sexy girl," you say, trying to push your cock even deeper. "Open your eyes and follow me," you say as Leeseo keeps gagging on your cock.

"I love seeing it bulging under your throat," you say to Leeseo, pulling out and rubbing your cock against her neck. She takes it back in her mouth, you fucking her pretty face harder than ever and pushing it against her crotch.

"I'm not gonna put on a condom this time; I'm gonna take it raw and deep in your pussy and cum all over it. Do you understand?" you ask Leeseo. "Yes," she answers as you continue to fuck her face. "God damn it, why are you so pretty with this cock all over your mouth, such a hot girl?" you say.

Leeseo gets your cock very wet. "I love seeing those tits bounce as I fuck your face," you tell her as a string of saliva comes out of your cock into her chest. You let Leeseo worship your cock before shoving it balls deep in her mouth one more time and making her spit all over it.

"Get up," you tell Leeseo, pulling her pantyhose down. "I'm gonna destroy that 18-year-old pussy," you promise her. Leeseo smiles, you sliding your cock right between her honey thighs, her moaning as she squeezes your shaft. "Beautiful girl," you say, kissing her and massaging her tits as your cock slides in and out of her thighs, making a lot of friction against the folds of her pussy.

"Damn, your legs are so nice, Hyunseo," you tell her as she moans and smiles. "Now is the time to turn around," you command, pushing Leeseo's hot body against your bed and sticking your cock in her tight pussy in one go. She closes her eyes, you thrusting hard inside her and grabbing her hair, determined not to go easy this time and extract the maximum pleasure you can from your niece.

"AHHHHHH," Leeseo screams, you tying her arms behind her back and getting her up, fucking her in a standing position and showing her she was going to be nothing but your fucktoy this night. "I love the way those titties bounce when I fuck you," you tell her as Leeseo keeps moaning.

Leeseo gets a good treatment, you pounding her hard from behind and choking her. You pin her against the wall, giving her pale butt a little spank as Leeseo tries to cope with your hard thrusts, her ass showing some great recoil, her smiling as your hands are all over her tits.

"God damn, you're so tight," you say to Leeseo. "Move on this dick," you say to her, letting Leeseo move her hips on your cock a bit before pushing her against your bed and mounting on top of her. "AHHHHHH," she screams, you completely dominating her. "Come here," you say, sitting on your bed and letting her bob your head on your cock to taste herself.

"Gag on it, spit all over my dick, massage my balls," you command to Leeseo, loving her smile as she sucks your cock and rubs your balls. "Fuck, you're doing some good work on it; bet Yujin taught you well," you tell her, thrusting your cock up her face to test her as you play with her hair. Leeseo gags. "Perfect, choke all over it," you say, grabbing her head and pushing it down while you push your cock up at the same time.

"Rub my ass while you suck my cock," you tell Leeseo, her massaging the entrance of your asshole while you stuff your cock deep in her mouth. "Fuck, that's incredible," you tell her, Leeseo smiling as you praise her.

"Come here," you say to Leeseo, grabbing her body in your direction. "Look at you," you tell her, spanking her ass and pushing your cock back in her pussy, her body tilting down as you let her slowly bounce on your cock, you two sharing hot kisses as you soon start pumping her teen pussy. "HMMMM, AHHHH," she moans, your cock pushing deeper as you spank her pale butt. "Bounce on that dick," you tell her, Leeseo moving up and down it and meeting your thrusts while you run your hands over her body.

You pump Leeseo from down low, grabbing her bouncy boobs as she gets pounded. You love to feel every inch of her young body, soon flipping her around into a sexy eye-to-eye missionary position, pumping her deep while you kiss her and she fingers her pussy, getting it wet for your cock to get deeper inside.

"You're such a tight girl, Hyunseo," you say to her, choking Leeseo's neck and making the bed make loud noises with your thrusts up her pussy. You quickly dominate her, getting fully on top of her, Leeseo's body as her tits jiggle more than ever. "AHHHHHH," she lets out a loud moan as you choke her, the bed getting louder than ever as you relentlessly attack her pussy.

You slow down a bit but keep your cock inside Leeseo's pussy, making sure to make eye contact as you fuck her. "Fuck, you're such a sexy demon, squeezing my cock so tight," you tell her, rewarding Leeseo with some kisses on her tits before switching into a spooning position, pounding her harder than ever and pinning her against the bed, taking the last remnants of her clothes and getting her beautiful body in full display. "Let me see it," you tell her, enjoying Leeseo's bare body now in full view.

You rub your hands all over Leeseo's body, from her tits to her pussy, but paying special attention to the former, groping them and massaging them as your cock bulges under her belly. "You really seem to like my tits, uncle," she notices. "Oh yes, and I know they are gonna grow even bigger over the next years," you say, continuing to grab them.

"Look at you, such a good young slut taking your uncle's big dick," you say to Leeseo. "Such a pretty little pussy," you say, slowing down a bit to give it soft but deep thrusts, Leeseo closing her eyes as she gets closer to her orgasm. "It's getting so wet and tight down there," you tell her, picking up the pace as you keep massaging Leeseo's boobs.

"You've got such a perfect little pink pussy," you tell Leeseo, sticking your cock deeper and deeper inside it. All she can do now is moan at each thrust. "I can't wait to cum deep in it," you say, spreading her lips and popping your cock in and out of her tight teen hole. "Tell me where your uncle is gonna cum?" you ask her. "In my pussy," she answers.

But first, you need to explore some different holes. "Look at this cute pink asshole," you say, noticing it's essentially intact despite you fucking some hours ago. You put a pair of fingers in her butthole, teasing her as you try to get it ready for your cock, Leeseo moaning and letting some juices out of her pussy. Soon, you replace your fingers with your cock, being very careful and inserting it all the way deep.

Leeseo's tight asshole queefs as you push your cock deep inside it. You push your fingers deep in her pussy, stimulating her on both holes as you fuck Leeseo with both your cock and fingers, choking her too and making her insanely tight. She grunts, starting to feel some pain as you keep pushing your cock in her ass. "Look at you, taking uncle's big cock in your ass," you say.

"DAMN," Leeseo screams, feeling the pain as you try to ease her up with some kisses. The heat of your cock buried deep in her asshole feels too much for her. "Suck that dick, get it wet before you sit on it," you command, Leeseo obliging before she starts bouncing her ass on your cock. At first, you let her take free reign of it, grabbing her tits as she rides you, but quickly, that comes to an end.

"Take that dick, baby," you tell Leeseo, spanking her ass and pushing her in your direction as you start pumping up her butthole. "AHHHHHHHHH!" Leeseo screams loudly, making the bed creak as her asshole is used hard like a fleshlight. "Fuck, it's still tight," you say, slowing down a bit.

"Get on your feet and bounce on that dick," you say to Leeseo, grabbing her ass. She tries to bounce, but her fun quickly ends, your addiction to her tight asshole taking over as you make her cheeks clap. Leeseo tries to fight back. "Come on," you tell her, but her fun doesn't last long, and soon she gets put back in her place.

You turn Leeseo around, completely dominating her as you give her a special full nelson anal treatment, your arms completely locking her legs while you pump her asshole with hard and deep thrusts that make her struggle. You then push her body against yours, switching into a pearly gates position that allows you to grope her bouncy tits while you destroy her ass. "FUCKKKK," she continues to scream, closing her eyes as your thrusts hit her hard.

"AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHH, AHHHHHH," Leeseo screams as your cock is a pain in her ass. But you just can't stop thrusting. She tries to bounce on it, but you just don't let her, attacking your ass harder than ever and almost making her burst into tears. "HMMMMMM," she groans, trying to hide her pain as you start fucking her ass in the craziest positions imaginable. Soon, you get on top of her, fucking it like a bull. "Be a good girl, take it all," you tell her, Leeseo groaning as your cock hits her asshole balls deep. "HMMMMM," more groaning sounds come out of her mouth, Leeseo losing her balance as you completely top her, kissing her as you spank her butt and destroy her ass in a rough prone bone position, before switching to a fast sideways fuck. Leeseo is now completely unable to react, her ass completely sore and her cheeks completely red after a hard anal session she's not going to forget anytime soon.

You finally give Leeseo a relief, letting her get your cock back in her pussy. "You're such a naughty girl; now I want to cum in your pussy even more," you tell her, spanking her pale tits as she bounces on your cock and moans. The relief doesn't last long, though, as you grab Leeseo in your direction before topping her one more time, kissing her while you take your cock deep in her pussy. "Look at me, slut, I'm gonna hit it deep in your cervix," you tell her. "FUCK," Leeeseo screams as you fulfill your promise, your cock attacking her pussy all the way deep.

Leeseo fingers herself as your hard thrusts make her lose her breath. "I wanna see your pretty face a little more before I put that cum inside your pussy," you tell her, pumping hard against her pussy and making the bed bounce. "Come here, I want you to warm my cock up before I empty my balls inside you," you say to her, getting on your feet as Leeseo gets on her knees to suck your cock and finally get some of the flavors of her ass and pussy all over it.

Leeseo spits all over your dick, finally showing no restraints to suck your cock. She gives you a pair of amazing deepthroats, stuffing it deep in her mouth and earning her praises from you. "Good girl," you say as Leeseo keeps choking on your cock. She licks your tip, teasing you. "Fuck, that's perfect," you say to her.

"I'm so ready to cum in your young pussy," you tell Leeseo. "Please, uncle, give me a huge load," she says. "Bring me your tits first," you command, Leeseo grabbing them together and squeezing your shaft between her perky boobs. "Fuck, that's amazing," you tell her as she titfucks it. "So sexy," you say.

"Yujin unnie told me guys get really horny when a girl puts their tits between their cocks," Leeseo says to you. "Well, let me show it then," you say to her, grabbing her boobs and taking control of it yourself, banging her tits as you push your huge shaft up and down her young milkers, Leeseo giving a good smile as you spank her tits too.

"Alright, I'm ready to breed you," you tell Leeseo. "Yes, uncle, please breed me," she begs. You shove her body against the bed and get on top of it, beginning a hardcore mating press as you insert your dick back in her pussy. Luckily you've got such a resistant bed, because your thrusts are so hard it feels like the bed is about to break at any second, loud noises coming out of it every time you reach the depths of Leeseo's teen pussy.

"FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK," it's all Leeseo can scream now, you turning her into a total fucktoy that only exists for you to use her as much as possible. "I'm gonna cum in that pussy," you tell her, Leeseo fingering herself as you now have both feet on top of the bed and attack her pussy relentlessly. Leeseo puts her ass up, you giving her a mating press that could come straight out of a hentai. Your thrusts are so hard blood starts to come out of her hole as your cock tears her hymen apart. "AHHHH," Leeseo moans, your shaft getting bloodier each time you thrust inside her. "Tell me," you say. "I want you to cum inside me," she begs, you using her pussy harder than ever.

"OH BABY, OHHHHHH FUCK," you groan as you start emptying your balls inside Leeseo's pink pussy. "AHHHHHH," she screams, your cock stuffed balls deep in her cunt, blood dripping out of her body and running between her cheeks as you can't stop cumming inside Leeseo's teen hole. "FUCKKKKK," you scream as the loads keep coming out. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Eleven big fat loads inside it. "God damn it," you say once you're finally done, your cock completely flaccid as Leeseo drained you to the fullest.

"Look at you, so full of cum," you tell Leeseo, her pinching her pussy and grabbing some of your cum to eat, smiling at you as the session is finally over. "I think it's time for you to go back to your dorms, but tomorrow I want to meet that Yujin girl you talked so much about," you say to her. "Alright, uncle," she answers.

Leeseo goes back to the dorm, telling Yujin about her experience with you. Yujin is baffled, her face shocked as she can't believe Leeseo let her uncle cum inside her. "I'm gonna need some help, unnie; he fucked my ass too, and I was really struggling," she says. "That's fine; the first time is always the hardest," Yujin replies to her.

On the next day, Leeseo returns to your home, bringing Yujin alongside her just like she promised. You greet both girls, getting to know Yujin better as you chat with her. "Hyunseo, can you pick up some cookies for us?" you tell your niece. "Sure," Leeseo answers.

As Leeseo gets back to serving you and Yujin in the room, she starts hearing some loud noises, getting greeted by the scene of you sucking her best friend's boobs while humping your cock against her honey thighs, both of you groaning and too distracted to pay attention to the surroundings. Leeseo keeps looking, unable to catch either of their attention, deciding to make a move as she licks the tip of your cock as it pops out of Yujin's thighs.

"FUCK," you groan as Leeseo's lick makes you explode and cum hard, you still unaware of her being there. You kiss Yujin, wondering how far your load had flown, but you can't seem to find any traces of your cum. Until you turn around and see a beautiful young face painted white.

It's Leeseo's.

"The cookies are ready, uncle."

#leeseo smut #ive smut #female idol smut #girl group smut #kpop smut #male reader smut

653 notes · View notes

madamechrissy · 21 hours ago

Text

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- this chap - lots of tension, angstyyy, misunderstandings, emotional, some kissing and heavy desire but mostly this chap is sfw, mutual pining, lots of feelings - Tag list closed

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazingg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part Four - Masterlist - Part Six>>> (coming soon)

Part Five

It’s been two hours since Satoru said he’d meet you, and you are as dressed up as you have been in years, hair curled to perfection, beautiful dress that’s hugging every inch of your body, pretty and dark red, long sleeves with lace all over them, and black tights underneath with thigh high boots. Your parents had been gushing over you when you’d walked out, doing a little spin and giggling.

That was two hours ago.

Now you’re touching up your highlighter, blinking mascara coated lashes that are far longer than you’re used to. He was used to models, so surely your skills wouldn’t be that level, but you wanted to at least try to look pretty for this… date. Yes it was going to be a date. He's only seen you casual so far, you're literally wearing lace panties and not Sailor Mars this time too.

The thoughts of last night make you blush, even as the moments tick by. To feel like that underneath him, so fucking beautiful and desired, with the boy you adored? It seemed worth whatever hurt that was coming when he went back home. You want to believe him, that he won't forget you again, but as the clock ticks it's hard to know if he's staying true to his word.

You call again, it's the third time in two hours, you hope it's not too much but now you're almost a little worried, shooting him a text instead, biting your lip as your fingers dance across the cool screen.

Satoru, are you okay? It's fine if you can't make it! Just let me know you're safe, the roads are covered in snow.

You sigh, setting down the phone as your mom walks in where you're sitting by the window, watching the snowfall gently. “Hey honey, are you staying for dinner?”

It's your mom's sweet way of distracting you. “He might still come, mom.”

“Absolutely! But I am getting ready to cook, you know.” She puts a hand on your shoulder, gentle now. “You're so stunning.”

“Aw, mom...” You look back to see her blinking emotions, making your heart ache.

“He'd only be so lucky to see you like this. You know that?”

You look down shyly. “You see him. He's a whole model.”

“And you're you. And that's special too. Don't get too upset if…” She trails off a bit no. “Just, seeing you like that after he left was really hard for me is all.” You stand now, hugging her and inhaling the familiar scent of her as she blinks back emotion.

“You're scared I'll get hurt again.” She nods, sniffling now as you brush aside a tear.

“That was worse than watching any breakup. I'm really scared for you, it's not that I don't still love Satoru. I promise it's not that. But you're doing so good now.” you smile sadly, remembering the days you laid in bed after, crying and not leaving your room for weeks aside from essential needs.

You wouldn't get that way again. Even if he…

“Just watch your heart, it's a million sizes too big.” You smile tremulously up at her, holding her hands now.

“Get that from you two.” You both smile now, and a knock sounds at the door, making you jump in excitement, rushing to where your dad was opening the door now, and then pausing.

“Sukuna how have you been!?” Your dad says, and Sukuna chuckles, coming into view as he puts his hand on your dad's shoulder.

“I've been good, how about you, old man?”

“Old man!? I'll show you ‘old man’. Got a football you know!”

“Oh yeah? I'm down for a challenge.” He grins, and your mom blinks in surprise, looking at you, then at the door, when your dad invites the tall man in, and his ruby eyes catch you, making him falter, his lips parted.

“Sukuna…” You trail off, while his gaze drifts over you, heating you up with his look, before clearing his throat, walking over to you.

“I was right in the neighborhood and thought I'd say hi to the family. You look… beautiful, shit.” He rubs the back of his neck as he murmurs it, and your dad shuts the door to the cold, leaving you all basking in the warmth of the well heated home.

Beautiful, Sukuna had never said that sort of thing when you dated - maybe sexy, hot or whatever ridiculously horny statement he used to make, but then he had changed a lot. So had Satoru Gojo, and here you were, still the same girl, with two famous men back in town showing up, the doubts creeping as you realize how excited you were for it to be Satoru at the door.

“Are you going out or… getting back?” He asks then, you watch as snowdrops dissolve on his black overcoat, he brushes some off his pink locks, just a little damp from them melting.

“Thank you, I’m so delayed in my responses.” He chuckles as you get just a little flustered, he’s eyeing you so intensely right now, while you’re fidgeting with your hands in front of your lap. “I had a date but… he hasn’t um, showed up or answered the phone. So I don’t know my plans.”

“Idiot.” You glare, and he sighs. “Sorry, but only an idiot would not show up.”

“He could be… caught up with the show, or something. So I don’t know, he should still come. But for now, um… I may help mom cook?”

“Looking like that?” He brushes a lock of hair behind your ear, as your parents walk up now, and your dad has busted out his football, Sukuna chuckles over at him - he’s much thinner than he probably remembers, but he’s so much stronger than he was years back. “You’re ready to get your ass kicked, old man?”

“You’re a pro, but I’m old school.” Your dad winks over at you, and you giggle just a bit. He’d always loved Sukuna, where your mom was not his biggest fan, they had some weird male football bond happening.

But you haven’t seen your dad so excited in forever, he was a huge fan of Sukuna’s team, so you’re sure this is a trip for him. “You came to see my parents, or me?”

Your soft question earns a raised brow and an arrogant smirk, smacking you right back to the girl fawning over him in high school. “Both, I didn't know if you’d be home or not, but I was hoping. But also I wanted to… see him too, if that’s cool?”

“Of course it is.” You grin now, a hand on his broad shoulder, and he exhales, leaning a little low. “How are you two gonna play in the snow!?”

“Tch, it’s nothing brat.”

“Brat!? No, no. Not calling me that again.” You shove at the big man, as your dad starts bundling up, and you look at him with concern. “Dad are you okay to…”

“Honey, let him. He needs this.” Your mom whispers, and you nod then, smiling as your dad looks at you curiously.

“You worried about your ‘old man’?” He teases, kissing your head affectionately, and you’re so thankful for Sukuna then, something you’d never thought you’d say.

“Don’t catch a cold, now! Sukuna, take it easy on him.”

“Psh, no way.” Sukuna grins deviously as the two men run outside in the cold like psychos in the darkening sky, you stand by the door and giggle as you watch them, the sky a snowy mix of purples and pinks as nighttime comes.

“You’re awfully popular again, I feel like I need to make these boys ask permission again.” Your mom teases, you roll your eyes, hugging your arms as the brisk air hits, then peeking back at your phone.

No response.

But your text was read.

You swallow a bit, feeling sick to your stomach - was he… with Samantha? He said he wasn’t interested, but they had a history. This morning you’d laid in his bed for longer than you should have, inhaling his scent, lingering memories flitting through your mind until you’d finally left - and it took far, far too much effort, that room really felt like you and Satoru’s personal snowglobe.

“I’ll call one more time,” you say, and your mom nods understandingly, bundling up in her jacket now. “You headed outside?”

“I gotta see your dad like this for a few. Then we can cook dinner together, maybe Sukuna can stay?” You nod and smile at her, hand shaking when you’re left alone, pacing nervously. Your heels click on the old hardwood floors as you do, as it rings and rings and rings.

Did Satoru break his promise?

*****

“Shit, shit, shit. No reception. Fuck, do you have any, Samantha?” The blond model pouts, brushing back her blong locks.

“No, I wish! Ugh this town is so fucking stupid! Why aren’t we moving!?” She leans out of the window then, screaming out - “Move, townies, I have to take a fucking piss!”

He’d been stuck in this car in traffic for an hour with her, barely moving inch by fucking inch from some really bad accident, a four car pile up according to the radio - which is the only thing that’s working. Neither of them have reception, and no internet access on any of their devices in this particular area, maybe because of the storm, he’s not sure.

But this is hell.

You’re going to think he broke his fucking promise, you’re probably already giving up on him coming, and he had everything perfectly planned, for it to all start to fall apart, and now in this car with a psycho brat and nothing to pass the time, just the windshield wipers and the fucking heat blasting, with some fuzzy radio. He peers at his phone again, glaring at it.

“Boring, so boring! Ugh this whole trip! I can’t wait to fucking get back home, out of these backwoods.” She rolls up her windows and pouts, pressing closer over to the heat that’s blasting from the vents.

“Yeah, yeah I know. You’ve hated being in a ‘small town’ you yap about it enough.” She scoffs, crossing her slender arms and scowling at him.

“Well you’re no fun, all fucking broody over the little girl from the bar.”

“Yeah we are not talking about her.” His jaw clenches, blue eyes flashing, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re just gonna fuck her, so do it and get on with it.”

“What!?”

“It’s what you do - fuck women, leave them. Or fuck them when you feel like it if they’re cool with sharing. Lucky for you, I didn’t give a fuck, because I had my own roster,” her words are the first serious things he’s ever heard from her, while she looks out the windshield, hugging herself under her jacket. “But that girl won’t.”

“What are you even on about, you didn’t want more than sex,” Satoru trails off then, when her eyes meet his again, softer than he’s used to. “You were fine just fucking, we never dated.”

“Well yeah, you don’t date, everyone in the industry knows, you have serious issues, you know?”

“Me, issues!? Samantha-”

“No. You do. Soon as we fucked you had a ride waiting for me as if I was some… escort? And all my friends say you did the same. Ever think it made any of them feel shitty?” Satoru’s stomach twists, looking back down at the phone and then at the road, avoiding her gaze. “Well, it did.”

“You felt great under me, all of you did. I’ve never had a complaint in the bedroom, okay?” She laughs a bit, sighing.

“You are a superb fuck, but if that’s all you’re gonna do to her, leave the poor girl the fuck alone.”

“You don’t know shit of how I feel for her.” He scowls at her, and she just shrugs a narrow shoulder, a nasty smile on her face.

“I know you, I know men like you, you’re an industry standard.”

“And so the fuck are you.” She snorts now, rolling her eyes again.

“Sure am, but I know what I am - you’re trying to act like you’re any better. Go fuck her then, and leave her like you do. Think that’ll be good? She’d be better off with me.”

“With you!?”

“Mmm, yes. At least I’d give her some affection after.” Satoru’s heart races as her words hit. “I kept fucking you because I liked you, I really liked you - until I realized you’re shallow.”

“You are not calling me shallow, you tell everyone in the city they’re poor because they don’t wear designer clothes. I don’t wanna hear it.”

“You’re as shallow as me.”

“You know, shut the fuck up please.” He keeps peering at the road, as the cars finally start moving, he checks the time and curses.

“Best you don’t make it, save her the heartbreak.”

“You’re suddenly really deep, Samantha. I don’t like it anymore than you being annoying as fuck.” She looks out the window, shaking her head.

“You don’t know any of the women in your bed. You don’t bother to.”

Satoru can’t argue it, he knows Samantha is right, and she’s read him like a fucking book, her words swirling through his mind - would he just hurt you? No, it’s different, you’re different, you’re the reason he became this way. The hurt that day, the rejection he thought he was going to get, along with Sukuna and everyone, it had made him high tail it and run.

And he changed.

Fuck who was he? Sometimes he’d look in that mirror at his perfect features and contemplate just that - who was he? Satoru Gojo, a model, a famous man on the runway with endless women, or was he that nerdy boy, the one who laughed with you till your tummies hurt? Who made popcorn and oreos for the two of you - the weirdest thing ever but you loved it - and watched movies in your room?

Could he ever be that boy again truly, was last night any sort of real attempt, or would he fuck it all up and hurt you again?

He can’t live with himself if he does.

“You’re right,” his murmur brings her attention to him, he’s exhausted from the shoot and the drive, and so is she, but her eyes soften a bit. “I was a dick to you, and everyone.”

“Understatement.” He just sighs, clenching the wheel with tight hands.

“Were you different before you were famous?” He asks, he’s never asked shit about her, it’s true - she was just fun when he wanted a psycho in the bed, he didn’t even see her as a person.

Sure she was indeed insane, but he didn’t have to treat her like shit.

“No, I’ve always been this way honestly. I didn’t change because I got famous, but I grew up rich.”

“Ah.” It’s quiet, as he takes a breath now. “I feel a lot for her.”

“I know, it’s written all over your face when you talk about her.” He looks at her once more, before focusing on the road again. “If you feel something, say it, I never hold back shit I want to.”

“No you don’t.” He laughs a bit and so does she, shifting a bit, eyes brightening now.

“I have internet, oh fuck yes. I can drown out your moody ass.” He sticks his tongue out, and she returns it, slipping in her ear buds as they come to a red light, and he pulls up his phone finally, seeing your missed calls come through and texts.

Shit, shit, shit.

He picks up the phone, calling it finally, but it keeps ringing, and he hangs up and tries again, only for it to do the same thing, making his stomach twist in knots. Did you think he wasn’t coming!? Were you upset, or mad? Were you ignoring his calls- god a million what ifs occur as he tries to focus on driving, to get Samantha back to the hotel so he can see you.

*****

“Oh god, yeah I remember that! So embarrassing!” You’re covering your face as your mom starts getting the plates ready and you have busted out your old pictures, Sukuna and you in football and cheerleader gear.

“You sucked at cheer, you were only allowed because you were so pretty.” He teases, and you gasp, shoving at him playfully.

“Oh whatever!? No way!” His hand comes to the small of your back as he grabs the plates you can’t reach, pressing him too closely against you.

It’s been another half hour or so, and at this point your phone was just by the entryway, you couldn’t keep calling and texting, you would come off super pathetic, so you’re just enjoying the ambience of being with your parents and Sukuna. He’s made your dad damn near giddy, and you’re thankful for that, but your mind keeps drifting to Satoru.

“I think everything is ready! Drinks?” You say then, and Sukuna smiles a little. “Let me guess, beer?”

“I’ll drink whatever you’ve got.” His tone and eyes make you tremble just a bit, as you remember being with him - sex was never your problem, your problem was Sukuna was a little shit then. He was your first, and the memories hit your mind a little too vividly, and he seems to notice, leaning low. “What ya thinking about?”

“Nothing!? Nothing. Um…” The doorbell rings now, you figure at this point it’s a neighbor, your hopes of Satoru are just shoved back so it doesn’t hurt as much.

“I’ll go get it.” Your mom says then, smiling over at you two, when Sukuna brushes his rough, calloused fingers against your delicate cheek.

“Kuna…”

“There’s that nickname?” You glare, and he just chuckles, tilting your chin up to make you look at the tall man then. “What is on that mind? Memories?”

“Of you being a dick.” He sighs, dropping his hand then.

“Yeah, I was. A big dick to you. An idiot.”

“No, I mean, look at your life? It’s amazing.” His jaw clenches a bit, hands gripping the counter a bit tightly as you hear murmurs coming from the living room, but your heart is hammering in your ears, blocking it out.

“It’s not all amazing, okay? I thought of you alot. I wanted to reach out-”

“Satoru is here, honey.” You blink in shock, as you turn to look at Satoru Gojo, for once a complete disheveled mess, breathless almost as he smiles at you and then it falls, as he sees your proximity to Sukuna. “Sukuna came over and is having dinner, do you want to join us?”

Satoru wants to kill him, he wants to rip his arms off for being near you - which is irrational, it’s stupid, but it brings back every memory of longing and need while he watched the girl he loved in Sukuna’s arms. When Sukuna dated you he stopped being an ass to Satoru, it wasn’t until after the split he started being a dick again - a big dick to many people too, just particularly Satoru.

The hatred and resentment burn him so badly, he hardly notices you until he blinks it away, sighing, seeing your gorgeous dress. His hands clench and unclench at his sides, you’re so fucking beautiful tonight, dressed to go out and dressed to kill, that dress hugging every curve he was dying to touch, to hold, to kiss upon. Earrings dangle off your pretty ears, reflection against your dress as you look at him.

“I am so sorry, I… can we talk?” He asks then, softly, and you nod, trying not to let your hurt or worry make you angry at him, you need to hear him out.

“Sure. Just a minute, Sukuna.” He nods then, and you walk out to Satoru, he takes your wrist gently, pulling you over by the stairs, exhaling as he eyes you up and down slowly, as if he was caressing you with his blue eyes.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, my god.” You look down nervously, biting your lip a bit, and he tilts your chin, leaning low, making you vividly remember his kisses. “Absolutely stunning.”

“Oh, thank you Satoru. I didn’t know where you… were… taking me.” Your pause speaks volumes, and he sighs, pulling out his phone now.

“I called so many times after I got service, there was a horrible accident and we got stuck for hours. I’m so sorry.” You hear it then, the desperation, as he shows you his phone. “Your messages didn’t come until then, I am so fucking sorry, I tried to get here as quickly as I could. But… I guess I’m too late.”

“What, no, no. You’re not too late.” You step closer, and he exhales, pulling you against his chest now, resting his head against yours. “Sukuna came to see my parents, we’re not on a date or anything.”

“Fuck…” His relief makes his shoulders slump.

“Were you… worried about that?” Your whisper makes him laugh softly, pulling back to look into your eyes, cool hand cupping your face.

“Yeah. I was.”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeats, while your hands cling to his soft sweater under his black jacket. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“How serious can we get if you leave soon?” Your voice is full of hurt, full of worry, and he can’t blame you one fucking bit, especially after soaking in what Samantha said.

“I will never just abandon you again.”

“Will you forget me again?” Your tears swim in your eyes, and you step back, shaking your head. “Fuck, ignore me, I’m tired I guess.”

Your words crush his heart, he feels it, the pain he put you through now, blinking back his own emotions. “I never forgot you, how could I?”

“You did.” You look away, and he turns you back to him, you fall again and again, over and over, body reacting, heart gravitating toward him against any better judgement you should have.

“No, I never fucking did.” His husky declaration is met with your mom peeking out now, concern on her face.

“Are you all going out or staying for dinner? There’s plenty, Satoru.” He clears his throat, watching you rub your arms nervously, a million things he’s dying to say to you, to tell you, all stuck in his fucking throat.

“We could just hit the movies and eat here, what do you think?” You say to him then, looking back up, as he runs a hand through his white locks.

“Think you look too beautiful not to take to a fancy restaurant, but I also think I’d love your mom’s cooking again.” You smile tremulously at his answer, sighing and trying to compose yourself.

“Then let’s go.” You take his hand, it feels too good, your little one engulfed in his warm palm, while Satoru sets his jacket and pulls out a chair for you, glaring over at Sukuna, who just smiles.

“Satoru, I should… say sorry for being a dick.” He says then, making Satoru blink in surprise.

“What?”

“I was a dick. Football makes us go to therapy, it’s really making me a little bitch but, here it is. I’m sorry.” He blinks once more, while he sits on the other side of you.

“Shit um, thanks I guess.” He mumbles, he still hates him, but he’s not going to keep the tension at the family table. Sukuna reaches around you to pat his shoulder, smiling a bit.

“It’s like a reunion huh?” Sukuna says teasingly, hand now finding your thigh under the table, making you look wide eyed at him, burning over your black tights. “It’s kind of nice being here again.”

“It is, isn’t it?” Satoru’s hand comes to your thigh now too, and you shift just a bit, Satoru’s is higher, thumb brushing circles on your soft inner thigh.

Some reunion.

“It’s nice to see you all getting along, and seeing you all again. I know she really missed you a lot, Satoru.” Your dad says then, and you hear it, the tone. Your dad was very protective, and he was never cool with his daughter being hurt - with Sukuna you both mutually broke up, but Satoru…

He really just left.

Satoru feels it in his gaze, sighing now. “Yeah well, certain people made High school shit for me. So I left.”

Sukuna looks away, sighing, and you feel the pain in his voice. “Not everyone was so bad.” You say softly, he nods then, hand on your thigh squeezing as Sukuna’s eases off.

“No, someone was amazing, and I shouldn’t have just left her.” His words are said in front of the room, and the tension eases, your dad smiles just a bit.

“She is amazing, you know.”

“Dad!”

“She is.” Satoru agrees, then he nibbles on the food in front of him, sighing. “I’m losing my abs this week.”

“You are not, silly!” You giggle with him, as all of you begin to reminisce, to talk softly, until food is done, and you’re going to help your mom clean up, but she stops you.

“You have a movie to get to, go on.” You smile at her knowing gaze.

“Satoru, have her home safe.” Your dad says, and you roll your eyes.

“I’m twenty six!”

“Still!”

“I’ll have her home safe. Unless she… wants to stay at my place again. But we’ll let you know, promise.” He nods then, hugging Satoru firmly.

“Please do, the roads are slick, be careful you two.”

“We will be, dad.” You look to see Sukuna saying his goodbyes as well, and Satoru glares at him, he can’t help it, the jealousy raging.

“Let me warm up the car, mmkay sweets?” He says softly, and you nod, but he shocks you by planting a kiss right on your cheek in front of everyone, making your skin heat up against his lips. “I’ll be waiting.”

“Thanks, Satoru.” You go to grab your jacket, but Sukuna has already gotten it, gently placing it over you as you two step outside into the cold, and you look up at him in the now dark night, just the porch light illuminating his silhouette. “Thank you so much for coming over, Sukuna. Truly.”

“I had fun catching up, your old man’s strong, he’ll be fine.” He pats your head affectionately, when you hug him tightly.

Satoru watches from his car and feels sick. He can’t hear a word you fucking said, but Sukuna showing up when he was supposed to already left him one step behind. Sukuna wraps his arms around you, you literally disappear in the big man’s embrace, while he gets the heat going, looking away before he does get sick.

He wants you to be his.

Is it selfish, is it fucking foolish? What future could you two even have? And you were a girl who needed a future, security, loyalty. You weren’t a girl he could just have and ever let go, but all he can think of is having you, over and over. All he can imagine is his lips bruising and marking every inch of your skin, not leaving the bed for days and just ordering food when you need it, fuck he’d hand feed you.

Shit Satoru Gojo has never thought of doing.

“You’re welcome, brat.” Sukuna says softly, after you thank him for spending time with your father.

“No, it meant alot. Truly. You’ve changed so much, but you weren’t all bad back then you know.” You tease, he chuckles then, sooty pink lashes lowering over those ruby eyes as his breath comes out in a puff of condensation.

“I fucked up with you. If you ever… figure out… all that.” He gestures his head to the car, and watches as you blush furiously. “And it’s not what you want, you have my contact info now. I’ll always answer your call, okay?”

“Sukuna, that's corny!”

“Fuck off, I know.” He glares, and you giggle again.

“That therapist should be famous.”

“Bye, now, brat.” You giggle and smack a kiss on his cheek, up on your tiptoes, watching a blush form on his cheeks. “It’s an open offer.” He says, husky toned, you nod then.

“Please drive safe!”

“You too, be careful tonight.”

“I will. Good night, Sukuna.” He nods with a half turn of is lips and walks over to his own sports car as you get inside the warmth with Satoru, smiling and then gasping as he yanks you against him. “Satoru?”

“I’ve been dying to do this all day.” He whispers huskily, before pressing his lips against yours, holding you against him in the warm confines of the car. He drinks up your sighs as you melt in his embrace, those shocks coursing through your veins from his plump lips, from his touch.

“Mnh…” Your soft cry makes him throb in need, but he tries to hold back, taking a breath instead, looking down at your now swollen lips, caressing them with his thumb.

“I never forgot you.” He repeats what he said earlier, you kiss him again, eagerly, tenderly, and he moans as you do, tongues dancing as lips keep pressing, melding against each other. “How could I?”

“Toru, I’m scared.” Your whisper makes him pause, he pulls back a bit, hands on your face now, shaking his head.

“I know. And I’m sorry you are. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing when I forgave you long ago, just… don’t hurt me again. Okay? I can’t handle it.” He nods, feeling your vulnerability, and you then relax, kissing him over and over, until he presses you against the door, leaned over, his hands dragging down your body, you whimper so sweetly he almost devours you there in that car.

“Shit, shit. I need to…” He backs off, watching your breasts rise and fall, he has never felt this, the insane need, once you all kissed he knew it was over, but every kiss drives him more out of his mind, as he falls just as bad as he had then. “I’ll fuck you right here if we don’t go.”

“In front of my parents!?”

“Full high school nostalgia.” You laugh then, and so does he, to break the tension, as you shakily put on your seat belt.

“None of that, gonna give my dad a damn heart attack. He has enough shit to deal with.” He presses one more kiss before he backs out of your driveway, an arm over the seat, brushing against the back of your neck.

“He looks healthy and good, I was really glad to see that.”

“Sukuna cheered him up playing football.” Your words are innocent and sweet, but he feels it hit - the inadequacy. He was supposed to be your best fucking friend in the world, and an ex had a better connection and was more involved.

The pain and guilt eats at him, and it’s quiet then, as the snow lightens up, and Satoru drives carefully in the night, you put a hand on his thigh, and his falls right over yours, squeezing it tightly. “Thank you for even going out with me tonight.”

“Of course, I want to… spend as much time as we can.” Your soft voice hits his ears, as you lean close, pressing a kiss on his neck.

“Me too, I was so stressed out, god being stuck in the car with Samantha was torture.” You laugh a bit, but he can hear it’s tense. “Sweetheart,” you two come to a stop, and he looks at you now, the streetlights casting a red glow over him while the snow finally stops falling, and the look he gives you makes your breath catch. “I only want you, okay?”

“Satoru you don’t-”

“No, I do. There’s nothing between me and her alright?” You nod then, swallowing nervously, as he kisses your forehead far too sweetly. “I used to sleep with her. But we never dated, I… never dated anyone.”

“Never?” You asked quietly, and he laughs without humor, looking back at the road now.

“Never. I guess I had someone in my head. I guess I had someone’s faded picture in my pocket.”

“You… what?” He taps his pocket, and you reach down now, emotions hitting your throat when you see it, the last picture he’d taken of you. You’re bright, cheerful and so, so happy. “You kept this?”

“You didn’t like it, and were gonna throw it out, remember? I got mad about it, so I swiped it. It was beautiful.” Your tears fall on the faded, crumbled up polaroid, taking several shaky breaths now as the meaning sinks in.

“I didn’t like it then, but… now I do.” He smiles, the weight off his chest while you put it back in his pocket. “Why didn’t you reach out?”

Satoru sighs, pulling up to another light, hand on yours gripping tightly as he studies you with that lidded gaze, with his plump lips parted just so, eyes that you have always loved looking into. But now they’re different, they’re jaded eyes yes, but there’s so much unsaid in them, so much it makes you falter, when he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, lips brushing your knuckles.

“I was terrified of feeling it all again. Every feeling I had for you, I just… thought it was best to shove down. But, I guess they never left.” The words in the yearbook flash across your mind now.

Did he mean them?

“I guess I never shared all my feelings, either.” You say softly, he is driving once more, but keeps your hand up by his lips.

“You have no fault in anything, here. You were just… you. And I love that, how you’re you. You are still you.”

“You’re still you, too, Satoru.”

He blinks a bit, sighing again. “Am I?”

“I think so.”

You hope so.

You wish it so.

You have never felt what this is, even with him before, the intensity of just being near him enough to drive you insane, every breath and motion leading you deeper into the abyss that is Satoru Gojo. Opening your heart to someone who could so easily crush it all over again, who can tear it all apart so casually, but it’s as if you would take it all if it meant having him for just a bit.

“What movie are we seeing, hmm?” Your whisper breaks him out of his thoughts, of how the fuck he could make this work, of how he could express everything that’s been bottled up inside. Of how he could be that Satoru for you again.

He looks over at your gorgeous face, bathed in moonlight, as beautiful as the day he first met you in school, the inner beauty just radiating with your kindness, your heart, all too much to even look upon. Momentarily stunned he doesn’t compute your question at first, instead just drinking in the love in front of him, the love of his life that he shoved aside like she was nothing.

He’s not even sure he deserves you near him, but he’s not going to fuck this up, aside from life literally already fucking the first part of the evening up.

“It was your favorite, they’re doing a whole re-run of it. And we have time to catch the last showing.”

You bounce just a bit in your seat, so cute then, he fucking melts, he aches, your smile so precious he can’t fathom how he lived with just the memory of it. You’re brightening up his heart, his world, as he just stares at you, so enamored that he has to get honked at to drive at the light again.

When the two of you arrive in that movie theater, he can hardly focus on anything but your laugh, your glittery eyes as you two settle with your snacks in the old theater, that hasn’t changed one damn bit. He’s so lost in you he can’t remember what the movie is called, or what it’s about, an arm wrapped around as you nibble on popcorn, snuggling up.

It feels too perfect, and Satoru can’t fuck this up. Knowing he’s had you for years existing across the country and could have had this the entire time makes every bit of money he’s had feel hollow. His phone keeps going off, he keeps ignoring the vibrations until you pull back curiously.

“It may be important, Satoru, check it.” He sighs, looking now that it’s his manager. “Go ahead, take a call, I'll be fine.”

“Fuck it, he can wait.” He says then, checking the texts and his heart drops as he sees it.

He has a shoot coming up tomorrow night and then he has to get back to Hollywood for a magazine interview and photo shoot for Vogue. One more measly day with the girl he’s been missing like a piece of his heart? How the fuck could he even tell you?

“What’s wrong, Toru?” You whisper, he just turns the screen off, leaning close and kissing you, tasting salty popcorn on your lips and licking it, making you laugh breathlessly.

“Nothing, it can all wait.” His words reassure you, despite the lingering concerns, as he pulls you back against him and reclines the big black leather seats, the two of you snuggling under the blanket he’d brought as you fall into your favorite movie.

But you also fall deeper for him, for the boy you knew and the man you’re trying to learn, who’s heart thuds steadily under your cheek.

Could you handle him leaving you again, or just enjoy this while it lasted, savor every moment, could you let him go again?

Next chap will be smutty AND emotional AND angsty, yayyy hehe

taglist #1- @pinkyvomit @saitamaswifey @kachowness @vraiao @artbligh @psychoartiste @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @bsenpai @simp-for-wanderer @rjreins @emonaculate @myahfig4 @casua11ycrying @psycren @blushedcheri @ureuphoriasworld @frozenmallows @kanaojacksonofc @rcveriees @xlilycoco @yukimaniac @sypnasis @tokina @sharkubi @tztuoo @hyori2 @yesdere @gradmacoco @gamerhere @seikamuzu @xinsonyax @vvaoo @angie420 @ria54sworld @blue-musingss @mysticmyth @asimpinamillion @arabellasolstice @ilovebeansyay @notme000 @emochosoluvr @iv-vee @heh123321 @fushikamo @danilovesboba @spookyy-gracee @satorusleftnut @clqxuds @femaholicc

#satoru gojo x reader #nerdjo #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #divider by cafekitsune #gojo x f!reader #gojo x female reader #satoru smut #satoru x you #satoru x reader #jjk angst #satoru gojo #gojo satoru x you

734 notes · View notes

sunbeamlessreads · 3 days ago

Text

Let Him See - Oscar Piastri x Reader One-Shot

❝ He kisses you like he’s waited for permission. And that’s what makes you break. ❞

[oscar piastri x reader]

~8.2k words | rated: E

tw: 18+, emotional neglect, infidelity, porn with plot, smut, possessive behavior, complicated breakup dynamics

lando stopped seeing you. oscar never missed a thing. now the whole paddock knows.

notes: i tried writing in present tense for this, which really isn't in my ballpark. not sure if i loved it, but maybe i'll do more of it later on. i’m sorry i made lando out to be such a dick. i promise ill make up for it!! enjoy! <3

IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED TO A TAGLIST FOR ALL OF MY FUTURE F1 FICS, COMMENT BELOW

The McLaren party is elegant in that vaguely overstated way team events always are—polished chrome fixtures, dim gold lighting, and drinks served in glasses that clink too delicately for the kind of tension simmering beneath the surface.

You walk in on Lando’s arm. A black strapless dress hugging you like it was tailored in vengeance. The ruffled ruching along the bottom cascades like spilled ink with every step you take. You planned everything—the heels, the bold red lipstick, the subtle shimmer in the inner corners of your eyes. All for him.

He barely glances down at you.

Lando says something to a passing engineer, nods at a sponsor, then slips out of your grasp as naturally as water slipping through your fingers. No one notices the slight shift in your balance when he lets go. But you do.

You’re left standing beside a bar you didn’t want to be near, surrounded by people who smile too brightly and ask questions you don’t want to answer.

You’re his girlfriend—the public face of a dying relationship neither of you have the courage to end. He doesn’t even try to hide it anymore. He’s across the room within minutes, grinning down at a woman in a red backless dress, hand resting low on her spine. It’s a familiar stance. You’ve seen it before. You’ve even been on the receiving end of it—back when he still bothered.

Your chest aches, but you don’t flinch. Not here. Not while people are watching.

Someone asks you if you want champagne. You decline with a polite smile, then excuse yourself—something about needing to take a call, voice breezy, unbothered.

You step out of the ballroom like you’re slipping out of a skin that doesn’t fit anymore.

The hallway is dim and mercifully empty. You exhale, back against the cool wall, and pull your phone out of your clutch—blank screen. No missed messages. No excuses to stay outside longer than you should.

You open WhatsApp. You type a few words. Delete them. Start again. Then stop. You let your head tip back until it rests against the cool wall, eyes fluttering closed for a second.

You wore this dress for him.

You practically starved yourself all day, got your makeup done by the same artist who preps you for photoshoots, shaved every inch of your body until your skin ached—and he didn’t even look at you.

A sharp sting pricks behind your eyes, but you blink it back. Your mascara is too good to waste on someone who hasn’t kissed you in public in weeks.

You shift your weight in your heels. They’re taller than you usually wear—he once said he liked when you looked just a little out of balance, like he had to catch you. He hasn’t caught you in a long time.

The hallway feels like limbo. You’re not sure if you want to scream or vanish. The silence settles over you like a second skin—until it breaks.

“Hey.”

You look up.

Oscar stands a few feet away. Hands in his pockets. Brows knit with something like concern—or maybe anger, but not at you.

You straighten up instinctively, “Hey.”

His gaze flicks toward the ballroom, then back to you, “He didn’t even notice you left.”

Your voice catches before it comes out, “He never does.”

Oscar doesn’t speak. He just stays there, watching you like you’re not crazy for feeling the way you do.

For a few seconds, that’s enough.

You look away first. Not because you’re embarrassed—but because his eyes are too steady, too full of something that burns beneath the surface. Like if you look too long, you’ll start crying or say something you can’t take back.

Your gaze falls to the floor, to the veins in the marble tile, to the perfectly manicured hand holding your clutch like it’s the only thing holding you together.

Then, softly—like the truth finally scraping its way up your throat—you speak.

“He does this a lot,” you murmur, “Leaves me at these things. Flirts with whatever blonde he hasn’t slept with yet. Sometimes it’s just talking. Usually it’s not.”

You swallow. The bitterness coats your tongue.

“And I’m supposed to smile through it. Pretend I don’t care. Because we’re McLaren’s golden couple, right? I look good enough on his arm, and he looks better in the photos. Win-win.”

Oscar doesn’t interrupt. He stays where he is, still but attentive, like if he moves too fast you might break.

You don’t stop. It’s pouring out now.

“I tell myself it’s fine. That I knew what I was signing up for. That it’s just how he is. But then I see the way he touches them—like they’re interesting. Like they matter.”

Your voice drops, quiet and sharp:

“He hasn’t looked at me like that in a long time.”

The silence after that is loud. Heavy.

You take a shaky breath and force out a dry laugh. “God. I sound pathetic.”

“No,” Oscar says immediately, “You sound hurt.”

You blink. His voice is too honest. Too kind.

It cracks something wide open.

“Of course I’m hurt,” you whisper, “I feel disposable. And maybe I am. Maybe that’s why I don’t leave. Maybe I’m scared if I do, no one else will want me.”

Oscar moves then.

Just a step. Slow. Controlled. Like he’s grounding himself.

“That’s not true,” he says, sincerity and care laced in his voice.

You lift your eyes to his. His tone doesn't match how furious he looks. Not at you—never at you—but at everything you just said. At every bruise Lando left behind that didn’t show up on your skin.

“I’m tired of watching him hurt you,” he says, voice like steel wrapped in silk.

The breath catches in your throat. You didn’t expect that. Didn’t expect him to say it. Not so simply. Not so seriously.

You fold your arms across your chest, trying to find a shield in sarcasm. It’s the only armor you have left.

“What, you want to make him jealous or something?” A laugh, light and mocking. A shrug, “Go ahead.”

You don’t mean it. It’s a deflection, a defense. Something to push him back before he gets too close to the bleeding parts.

But Oscar doesn’t laugh.

He steps in.

Close.

Too close.

You feel his hand brush the side of your face, gentle fingers slipping behind your ear. He pauses—waits for you to stop him—and when you don’t, he tilts your chin just enough.

And then he kisses you.

Your body locks. Every muscle goes taut.

Your lips are frozen against his, breath caught somewhere in your chest.

But his mouth is soft. Steady. Patient.

He kisses you like he’s waited for permission.

And that’s what makes you break.

You melt.

Fingers tangling in the collar of his shirt, you kiss him back. Rough. Desperate. Furious with yourself for how good it feels. For how long you’ve wanted this, buried it, pushed it down under years of Lando’s carelessness.

Oscar groans when your hips tip into his.

The kiss deepens. His hands grip your waist—hard, grounding. Yours slide up his chest, grabbing fistfuls of cotton like you need to hold on or you’ll collapse.

You hit the wall with a soft thud. He doesn’t stop. You don’t want him to. One of his hands finds your bare thigh where your dress has shifted, the other cradling your jaw.

He kisses you like he needs to prove something. Like he’s making up for every second Lando didn’t touch you.

You moan into his mouth—too soft, too shocked at yourself.

He pulls back just enough to breathe against your lips.

You’re both breathing heavily; you more than him.

Your lipstick’s ruined. His pupils are blown. His chest is rising and falling like he’s just come off a cooldown lap.

Then—voice low, rough, shaking with restraint—he says,

“Room 321. If you mean it.”

And he steps back. Hands still curled like he wants to reach for you again.

But he doesn’t.

He leaves you standing there in a dim hotel hallway, breathless, shaking, lips tingling, with your heart slamming against your ribs and your mind screaming that something just changed forever.

Room 321.

You stare at the number plaque for a moment.

You knock once, and the door opens like he was already standing behind it—waiting.

Oscar stands in the soft glow of the hotel room, still in his suit pants, white shirt rumpled with the top two buttons undone. His jacket’s folded neatly over the back of a chair. His hair’s a little mussed like he’s been running his hands through it since he left you.

His eyes land on your lips first. Then your throat.

Your lipstick is smudged from the hallway kiss. You didn’t fix it. You didn’t want to.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just stands there. Chest rising slowly. Eyes locked on yours. There’s something sharp in his silence—not anger, not regret. Restraint.

You step into the room slowly. The door closes behind you with a dull thud that feels heavier than it should.

He still doesn’t move.

Neither do you.

The tension crackles between you like a tripwire no one wants to step on first.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says quietly, eyes dark.

Your chest lifts, lips parted slightly as you look at him across the room, “Then tell me to leave.”

He doesn’t.

Instead, he takes a slow step forward.

You mirror him.

Another step. Closer. Breath catching.

Until there’s no more distance between you.

He reaches out—hesitantly—fingers brushing your chin, then trailing along the line of your smudged lipstick.

“You look like you’ve already been kissed,” he says.

You breathe, “You did that.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “I did.”

That’s when the tension snaps.

The second his mouth meets yours again, everything else dissolves.

It’s rougher this time. Starved. Less like a kiss and more like a confession torn from his chest. His hands cradle your jaw, fingers pressing just beneath your ears like he’s grounding himself in the feel of you. Your arms loop around his neck instantly, your body melting into his like it always belonged there.

His tongue slips past your lips, hot and slow, as your backs bump blindly into the desk behind you. A McLaren cap falls to the floor unnoticed. You gasp softly into the kiss, and he groans into your mouth like it’s killing him not to take more.

His hands slide down your arms, then to your waist, where he grips you tightly—not to push, not to rush. Just to hold. Just to feel.

You don’t pull away when he reaches behind you and finds the zipper of your dress. It comes down slowly, the sound impossibly loud in the quiet of the room. His knuckles brush your spine as he guides the fabric off your shoulders.

You’re still kissing when it falls to your ankles.

Still kissing when you push his shirt off, fingers slipping under the undone buttons, palms brushing warm skin. He shrugs it down his arms and lets it fall with a soft rustle to the carpet. His pants follow soon after, as you blindly undo his belt and unbutton them.

His hands don’t leave your body. Not once.

You walk backward together, mouths fused, breath short, until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to look at you.

Then he bends slightly and lifts you—carefully, like you might shatter in his arms—and lays you down on the sheets as if it’s an offering.

Your hair fans out against the pillows. Your chest rises and falls quickly. Oscar stands over you for a second, chest heaving, jaw tight, eyes moving across every inch of your skin.

Then he climbs onto the bed and kneels between your thighs.

You watch him watch you, lips parted, body burning.

He leans in and kisses your neck—softly at first.

Then lower.

And lower.

Down the column of your throat, over the swell of your chest. He shifts the fabric of your bra aside, reaching beneath you and removing it gently, with trembling fingers, and kisses the curve of your breast, then bites gently.

You gasp, fingers grasping at the sheets.

He sucks gently—and when he pulls back, there’s a blooming red mark just beneath your collarbone.

Then another. Between your breasts.

Then one lower, over the swell of your ribcage.

He takes his time. His mouth moves down, and you lose count of how many places he claims with his lips and teeth.

You squirm as he shifts, adjusting on his knees to reach lower, pushing the edge of your panties aside so he can press another kiss just above your hipbone—then right at the inner curve of your thigh.

He sucks there, too. A long, slow draw that makes your fingers fist the sheets.

“Oscar—”

“Shh,” he murmurs, voice husky, “Let me leave them.”

Another bite. Another mark, just shy of the place where you’re already aching for him.

“I want him to see every single one of these.”

Your eyes flutter shut.

You’ve never been kissed like this—not for show, not for ownership, but for the sheer need to leave a piece of himself behind on your skin.

By the time his mouth trails back up your thighs, your panties are damp with heat and your breathing’s gone shaky.

Oscar leans up, one hand bracing beside your waist. His other hand finds the waistband of your panties and begins to ease them down—slowly. Carefully. Like unwrapping something delicate.

He watches your face the entire time.

They slide down your legs with ease, and he tosses them aside.

You’re bare for him now—fully, completely—and you’ve never felt so seen.

He kisses your knee. Then the inside of your thigh again. Then finally, finally, his mouth hovers over where you need him most.

You’re already soaked. He groans when he sees it.

“Fuck. Look at you. I’ve thought about this,” he says softly, eyes fixed on where you’re already wet for him. “So many times.”

You can’t answer. You can barely think.

His hands spread you open gently—reverently—and then his mouth is on you.

Warm. Wet. Soft.

The first stroke of his tongue is unhurried, a slow drag from bottom to top that makes your spine arch off the mattress. You gasp, hips twitching, but his grip is firm on your thighs.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers against you.

He licks again—long and deliberate—then presses soft kisses to your clit, switching between his tongue and his lips like he’s tasting something he wants to savor.

You moan—high and broken—and he groans back like he feels it.

His hands hold your thighs open, thumbs stroking slow circles into your skin. You’re writhing now, overwhelmed, the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your belly with every passing second.

Your fingers claw at the sheets. You feel it coming, your body locking up—

Until he pulls back.

Your hips lift off the bed, chasing the loss, but his hands still you.

He leans in, kisses the inside of your thigh again—slow and deep—a soft, open-mouthed press that lingers just long enough to leave another blooming bruise.

Then he hovers over you, mouth wet, eyes locked on yours.

“You’re close,” he murmurs, “I can feel it. You’re shaking.”

You nod, lips parted, breath stuttering.

His hands slide up your thighs, grounding you—but instead of returning to where you’re desperate for him, he pulls back more.

“Don’t come yet.”

Your brows draw together, lips twitching in protest, “What—why—?”

Oscar leans in again, hand wrapping around your thigh to hold you open as he presses a kiss just above your aching heat.

His voice is low, but firm, “Because I want to be inside you when you fall apart.”

The authority in his tone makes you clench around nothing. You whimper as he sits back on his heels, rubbing his palms over your thighs in soothing strokes.

“Please…” you whisper.

His mouth tilts into the faintest smirk—not smug. Hungry.

Then he crawls back up your body, leaving another trail of slow kisses across the bruises he’s left down your chest.

“You don’t come without me tonight,” he says quietly against your skin. “You understand?”

You nod, barely breathing.

“Say it,” his tone is demanding, but not impatient.

“I—I won’t come until you’re inside me,” you surrender.

He moves back up to kiss you—soft at first, then deeper, longer—as he reaches over to the nightstand. You hear the foil tear, the familiar sound grounding the moment in something real. His body shifts against yours as he sits back briefly to roll the condom on, his breath catching as his hand moves.

Then he’s back above you—one forearm braced beside your head, the other hand sliding down to guide himself to your entrance. His cock brushes against you, hot and thick and so ready.

But still, he pauses.

“Are you sure? You won’t regret this later?” he asks, voice quieter now. Not demanding. Not coaxing. Just open.

You reach up, cup his jaw, thumb brushing his cheek.

“Yes. I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

Oscar exhales—one soft, shuddering breath—and presses his forehead to yours for a moment, like he’s soaking those words in.

He sinks into you slowly—not teasing, just careful, controlled, like he’s doing something sacred. His hips press forward inch by inch, stretching you open, filling you fully until your thighs tremble against his sides.

You gasp, clutching his biceps, head tipping back into the pillows, “Oscar…”

“I know,” he breathes. “Fuck, I know. You feel—”

He cuts himself off with a groan, jaw tightening as he bottoms out, “So fucking tight. Like you were made for me.”

He stills inside you for a moment, forehead pressed to yours, both of you shaking with the effort of not losing it too soon. He brushes your hair away from your face with the gentlest touch, his palm cupping your cheek like he’s afraid you might break if he lets go.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “Move. Please.”

So he does.

The first thrust is slow and deep, rolling through your whole body. His hips pull back and push forward in a smooth rhythm that feels like worship. Each time he fills you, you feel more of yourself unravel, like he’s stripping you bare with every stroke.

He kisses you through it—long, lingering kisses against your mouth, your cheek, your jaw, your throat.

“You’re mine now,” he murmurs, “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

You breathe it against his lips, broken and honest:

“I’m yours.”

He groans, burying himself deeper.

His pace stays steady, grounding—not brutal, not rushed, but deliberate. Like he wants to make this last. Like he needs you to feel it for hours after.

His hand slides down your side to grip your thigh, pulling your leg up around his waist to angle you just right—and when he thrusts again, you choke on a moan.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod frantically, eyes wide and wet.

“Yeah, baby. That’s it,” He stumbles through his words, deep within his own pleasure, “You take me so well.”

You cling to him like he’s the only real thing in the world, his name slipping from your lips between soft gasps, your body clenching around him, slick and pulsing and completely his.

When your orgasm hits, it’s not sharp—it’s deep. A wave that rolls through you, full-body and consuming. You cry out, and he swallows the sound in a kiss, fucking you through it with soft praise and steady hands.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go. I’ve got you.”

You don’t even realize you’re crying until he kisses the corner of your eye.

“I’ve got you,” he whispers, “You’re safe.”

He comes only seconds later, thrusts stuttering, mouth falling open against your neck. You feel him groan into your skin as he grips your thigh and spills into the condom, his whole body shaking with the effort.

And when it’s over, he doesn’t pull away.

He just collapses into you—gently—his chest pressed to yours, his arms wrapping around your waist like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he loosens his hold.

You lie there tangled in each other, your fingers brushing through the damp hair at the nape of his neck, your thighs still parted around his hips.

Neither of you speaks.

You don’t have to.

You’re both suspended in that quiet stillness—the kind that only comes after something real, something that changes the shape of you.

After a long moment, he shifts slightly, careful not to crush you. His hand strokes your thigh where it’s still curled around his waist. He places a soft kiss on your cheek, then another on your jaw. Then he pulls out gently, drawing a small whimper from your throat.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, brushing his hand down your hip, “You okay?”

You nod. Your voice is still trapped somewhere in your chest, so you let your hand answer for you, fingers curling around his bicep. He disposes of the condom quickly, then returns to the bed without hesitation, lying beside you and immediately pulling you into his arms.

He doesn’t ask if it was good.

He doesn’t need to.

Instead, he cradles you, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, the other brushing soft fingers through your hair.

“You’re shaking,” he whispers.

“I’m fine,” you murmur. “Just… a lot.”

You feel his smile against your forehead. His hand slides up and down your back, slow and steady, grounding.

“Hey,” he says gently after a pause. “You don’t… regret this, do you?”

You shift slightly to look at him. His eyes are wide, open, vulnerable—stripped of all the heat and control from earlier. He’s just Oscar now. Soft-spoken and careful with your heart.

You shake your head slowly, “No. I don’t.”

His shoulders relax.

“Okay,” he says, “Good. I just—I need you to know…”

He hesitates, thumb brushing your side, “This doesn’t have to mean anything. If it was just about him—if it was just something you needed to do — that’s okay.”

You blink. His voice is steady, but there’s a hint of sadness tucked into it. Like he means what he’s saying, but part of him hopes it isn’t just that.

You slide your hand up his chest, over the steady beat of his heart, “It wasn’t just about him.”

His brows lift slightly. You lean in and press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I wouldn’t be here if it didn’t mean anything.”

Oscar exhales—slow and shaky—and you see the tension leave his body like someone just untied a knot that’s been there for months.

He pulls you in tighter. You tuck your head beneath his chin, leg slipping between his, arms around his torso, his scent already warm on your skin.

“Okay,” he murmurs, “Stay?”

You nod against his chest, “I want to.”

You fall asleep like that—in his arms, his fingers tangled in your hair, your body marked with proof of what happened.

Not revenge.

Not just sex.

Something.

The first thing you feel is warmth.

Oscar’s chest beneath your cheek. His arm still slung around your waist. The faint hum of city life beyond the hotel windows. You blink slowly into the early light, your lashes brushing the skin of his collarbone.

He’s already awake.

You can feel it in the way his fingers trace lazy, absentminded shapes along your back. He’s not in a rush. Not trying to move you. Just… there, soaking the moment in.

You shift slightly, stretch, and wince a little—your thighs ache, in the best way. Oscar immediately pauses.

“Sore?” he says, voice still rough with sleep.

“A little,’ you respond quietly.

He kisses your forehead, “Good sore or… need-an-ice-pack sore?”

You snort, hiding your smile in his chest, “Good sore.”

He hums, content. His hand returns to your back. You both stay still for a few more seconds—not talking, not overthinking—just breathing together.

Then, softly, “You don’t have to sneak out,” he says, “You can walk out like you belong here.”

You glance up at him, “I kind of do belong now… don’t I?”

His lips lift into a tired smile, “Yeah. You do.”

You press a soft kiss to his jaw before finally sitting up, the sheets slipping down your body, baring the constellation of love bites he left down your chest. His eyes flick to them, and his smile shifts—pride, possession, a little satisfaction.

“He’s gonna see those,” he says.

“Good,” you echo, voice quiet but sharp.

You find your underwear, pull on your clothes from the night before — everything still wrinkled from the floor. You go to the mirror, fix your hair just enough, and borrow his hoodie. He watches you do it all in silence.

Before you leave, he stands, cups your face in both hands, and kisses you slow. Sweet.

“See you down there?”

You nod, “Yeah. I’ll be around.”

You open the door.

Step out.

And you’re not five steps down the hall before you hear the elevator ding.

You hear the sound of footsteps before you register anything else—then the shift in atmosphere. Heavy. Cold. Unwelcoming/

You turn.

Lando steps into the hallway off of the elevator, coffee in hand, hoodie tied low around his hips, damp curls falling over his forehead like he just stepped out of the shower.

He doesn’t speak right away.

He just stops—eyes locked on you—and stares.

At the heels.

At the wrinkled black dress from last night.

At the hoodie hanging off your shoulders—Oscar’s '81' hoodie.

Then his gaze lands on your neck.

The bruises.

The silence stretches, thick and venomous.

“Wow,” he mutters, taking a slow sip of his coffee, “Didn’t think you’d stoop that low.”

You raise an eyebrow, heartbeat steady, “Funny. I was thinking the same about you for the last six months.”

His eyes flicker—a flash of guilt, gone in an instant.

“So what, then?” he snaps. “You fuck my teammate to even the score?”

You shrug one shoulder, “I didn’t realize we were still keeping score.”

“You really let him leave those on you?” His voice cuts sharper now, bitter, “Is that what you’re doing now? Walking around marked up like a fucking trophy?”

“He didn’t do it to prove a point,’ You step closer, just enough, “He did it because he wanted to touch me. Because he actually looked at me.”

Lando’s jaw clenches,

"You’re still mine.”

That’s when you laugh—not cruel, but quiet. Final.

“No, Lando. I was never yours,” you say with a confidence you didn’t know you possessed, “I just played the part.”

His lips part like he wants to fire back, but no words come.

You walk past him without another glance, heels echoing softly against the hotel carpet. His coffee hand twitches like he wants to stop you—to say something that could undo what he just saw.

But he doesn’t.

He can’t.

The bruises on your neck do all the talking.

The tension hits before you even step onto the concrete.

You’d heard whispers all morning—something about a joint media pen meltdown, Lando snapping mid-question, storming off, Oscar handling it with trademark calm. Nobody quite knows why. No one’s saying anything aloud. But everyone feels the shift.

Especially in the McLaren garage.

The energy is tight. Controlled. Like an engine revving just a little too high.

You move through it like a blade through silk.

Sunglasses on, McLaren pass hanging low on your chest. Hair neatly pulled back, hoodie zipped halfway. You tried to cover the hickeys— light foundation along your collarbone, you hadn't expected to need color corrector on this trip—but Monaco’s heat is unforgiving. The bruises are starting to bleed through the coverage, soft and red and obvious.

You don’t adjust your zipper.

Let them wonder.

As you step through the divider into the team area, a few heads turn. You're familiar enough to them. People don’t stare—not directly—but eyes flick. Conversations pause. It’s subtle, but you’re used to it by now.

Oscar’s standing just to the side of the media tent, debrief notes in one hand. He looks up the second you appear—and though his expression doesn’t change much, you catch the tiny lift at the corner of his mouth. Just for you.

He doesn’t come to you.

You don’t go to him.

Not yet.

You pass close enough that your arm brushes his, and the heat between you sizzles like something private. He doesn’t look, doesn’t touch.

But he says, quiet enough for only you to hear, “He cracked.”

You smile faintly, “I heard.”

“They asked about quali, he said something about ‘teammates knowing their place.’”

You raise a brow, amused, “Classy.”

“Zak pulled him out. Press has no idea what the fuck he meant,” Oscar says, with a hint of boyish triumph laced in his voice.

“But you do.”

He doesn’t answer that—just smiles again, a little wider this time.

You walk past him and take your place in the viewing area beside one of the engineers. From across the garage, you feel Lando’s eyes land on you. Just a flicker.

Just long enough.

He sees the bruise peeking above the collar of your hoodie. The faint outline of teeth just beneath your jaw.

He looks away.

You don’t need to say a word.

Oscar already said it for you—with his mouth on your skin, with his name on your lips, with every mark he left behind.

Qualifying starts, and Monaco doesn’t give anyone room to hide — not on track, and definitely not off it.

From the team pit wall, you watch it unfold through tinted lenses, headset perched loosely around your neck.

Oscar’s smooth. Fast. Calm through Sector 1, surgical through the hairpin. Lando’s twitchier. Overcorrecting. Radio sharp. He goes wide into Turn 12 and mutters something that gets bleeped on the live feed.

The garage knows.

Everyone knows.

Even the engineers are glancing at each other between data runs. The tension hasn’t lifted—it’s just gone quieter. Deeper.

Zak walks past you once, then again, and doesn’t say anything.

You don’t move.

Oscar finishes P3. Lando P7.

When Oscar’s lap time flashes on the board, there’s a flicker of something like satisfaction in the way he lifts his visor. He doesn’t celebrate. Doesn’t gloat. Just pulls back into the garage like he’s done his job—and knows you were watching.

You head toward the back hallway after the session ends. Quiet space behind hospitality, where the drivers come through before facing the press.

You’re leaning against a wall when you hear the voices before you see them.

Lando’s.

“Why don’t you tell them what you were really thinking on that last lap?”

Oscar’s.

“Excuse me?”

Lando’s.

“You wanted to beat me. You needed to. Don’t act like this was just another quali for you.”

Oscar’s voice is quieter, cooler, “Every quali, I want to beat the guy next to me. That’s the point.”

Lando laughs, sharp and joyless, “You think you’ve won something, don’t you? Some prize of a woman?”

You step into view.

They both go quiet.

Oscar’s eyes flick to you first—not surprised, not smug. Just aware. Present.

Lando sees the faint hickey blooming again, the one the foundation couldn’t fully hide, and his jaw ticks. He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t have to.

You tilt your head, “Everything alright?”

Oscar looks at Lando for half a second longer, then turns to you.

“Yeah,” he says, calm and even. “We were just clearing the air.”

This earns him a glare from Lando.

You smile at Oscar, brush your hand lightly along his arm as you pass.

Lando stays frozen.

It’s dark when you find Oscar again—rooftop level, away from the noise. He’s leaning on the railing in his McLaren hoodie, watching the city lights flicker over the water.

You slip in beside him.

He doesn’t look away from the skyline.

“He’s pissed,” Oscar says.

“He’ll stay pissed,” you admit quietly.

“He’s not just mad about it being me,” a beat, “He’s mad because he never thought you would leave him.”

You nod, fingers grazing the edge of the railing, “He never thought I’d let anyone else touch me.”

Oscar turns to you then. The tension’s gone now, burned out somewhere between the lap and the hallway. He notices you shivering and removes his hoodie, handing it to you without a word.

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” you respond, more assurance in your voice than the last time he asked. You turn fully toward him, “Do you?”

He just looks at you—steady, thoughtful, something softer than anything he’s shown all day.

Then he shrugs one shoulder and smiles faintly, “Not even a little.”

You lean in.

Kiss him.

The kiss is soft—nothing like the one in the hallway, or the ones from last night, hot and breathless with desperation. This one is calm. Confident.

Yours.

Oscar’s hands rest lightly on your waist, the cool night breeze lifting strands of your hair between you. Monaco glitters below, impossibly golden. You kiss him once. Then again. Slow. Unrushed. Like no one’s watching.

Except someone is.

You don’t notice it at first—the small mechanical click behind you. Subtle. A shutter. A camera lens adjusting to the low light.

By the time you pull back, it’s already done.

Oscar’s head lifts just slightly, eyes narrowing toward a corner of the rooftop—barely visible through a line of glass. Not press-official. Paparazzi freelance. The ones who sell exclusives when the media team’s off-duty.

“Shit,” Oscar mutters under his breath.

You turn, eyes locking on the shadowed figure just as they duck behind cover.

Too late.

“Think they got it?” you ask, already knowing the answer.

Oscar nods slowly, expression unreadable, “Yeah. They got it.”

You exhale—not panicked. Just… bracing.

Because the image will drop. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow morning. You in his arms, mouth on his, Oscar’s hoodie on your shoulders, his fingers curled around your waist like he’s holding something that matters.

It’s not a rumor anymore.

It’s not a whisper in the paddock hallway or a locker room assumption or something Lando only suspects.

It’s proof.

The photo drops sometime after 2 a.m.

It’s soft. Intimate. The Monaco skyline blurred behind you, Oscar’s hands gentle on your hips, your lips brushing his in a kiss too tender to be casual. You’re wearing his hoodie, your body leaning into his like you belong there. The headline spins fast, and the image spins faster.

“Piastri and mystery girl— late-night kiss confirms more than paddock rumors.” #MonacoGP #OP81 #McLaren #F1WeekendRomance

By the time the sun rises over the harbor, the image has circled the globe. Instagram reels. Reddit threads. Private group chats with McLaren team tags.

Some know who you are. Others ask. Everyone guesses.

No one’s surprised.

Not even Lando.

He sees it around 6 a.m. His phone buzzes with the notification, a WhatsApp ping from someone in media: “Bro…?”

He clicks it, thumb slow, still groggy from a half-slept night.

The image fills his screen in just about a second flat.

And for a second, he doesn’t feel anything at all.

Then it hits—slow and thick, like cold water spreading under his ribs. He stares at the photo, eyes scanning over the curve of your smile, the way your fingers curl into the back of Oscar’s shirt, the undeniable ease in your body.

You look happy.

He hasn't seen that look on you in months.

The worst part is how quiet the fury is—how it doesn’t come out loud, how it just sits there in his chest.

He doesn’t throw the phone.

He just stares, jaw tight, thumb hovering above the screen like he could rewind the moment and undo it.

But it’s already out.

And nothing will unsee it.

The paddock is different that morning. The kind of quiet that’s not actually quiet—just loaded.

Oscar walks in calm. Doesn’t rush. Doesn’t shrink. He gives one quick nod to Zak, another to the comms lead. Then walks into the garage like he hasn’t just become the most searched man in F1.

Lando’s already in the back, zipped into his fireproofs, eyes locked on the telemetry like it might give him something to hit. When Oscar appears beside him in the media pen, the tension is immediate—even before the interviews start.

“Oscar,” one reporter says, half-laughing, “you’ve been trending all morning. Surprised by the attention?”

Oscar’s lips tug into a polite half-smile, “Not particularly.”

“Balancing a fast lap and a fast… personal life?” someone else jokes.

He doesn’t miss a beat, “One lap at a time.”

Lando laughs then—too sharp, too loud, “He’s got more than enough time to focus on everything else, clearly.”

The PR handler stiffens. The reporters go quiet. One camera clicks. Someone tries to move the topic on, but the moment lands.

Oscar doesn’t react. Just folds his arms across his chest, gives a small smile, and looks straight ahead.

You hear about it an hour later.

And when you enter the garage, it’s like parting smoke. The space tenses. Heads turn. No one quite meets your eyes, except for Lando —a glance, sharp and quick, from across the space.

He looks away.

Oscar doesn’t.

You find him standing near the screens, headset tucked around his neck, one hand in his pocket. He sees you and offers the smallest, softest smile.

You pass close. Don’t touch. Don’t stop.

But your fingers graze his as you go.

He breathes like it’s the first time all day he’s been allowed to.

Later, after the final briefings wrap, you find him alone behind the paddock—tucked into a quiet service alley, the marina glittering beyond the concrete walls.

He doesn’t hear you approach. Just stands with his back to you, hands braced on the railing, still in his gear. His shoulders rise and fall in slow rhythm.

You stop beside him.

For a moment, neither of you says anything.

Then, “So,” you murmur, “that’s one way to go public.”

He huffs a laugh. “Guess we don’t get to control the timing.”

You glance sideways at him. “Regret it yet?”

He finally looks at you — eyes soft, voice quieter than it was all day, “Not even a little.”

You nod slowly, “Me either.”

He exhales, like that’s what he was waiting for.

“It’s going to be loud,” He warns

“I know.”

“He’s not going to take it quietly,” Oscar adds.

“He’s not my responsibility anymore.”

Oscar studies your face — the calm in your expression, the steadiness in your voice — then lifts a hand to your jaw, thumb brushing gently beneath your cheekbone.

“If it gets messy—” Oscar starts.

“We’ll deal with it,” you reassure him with a confidence foreign to you.

He nods once.

"Good luck out there."

The Monaco sun glints harshly off the harbor, but the air inside the McLaren garage is colder than it should be. Everyone’s already seen the photo. The photographers couldn’t have asked for a cleaner shot.

No one says a word about it — not to your face. But there’s something in the silence. The way engineers glance between Lando and Oscar before looking away. The way a strategist clears his throat before relaying sector data like he’s afraid it might ignite something.

You stay quiet. Poised. Present in the garage like you’ve always been. Just another figure with a headset and a McLaren pass. Except now, yesterday's bruises aren’t just hickeys—they’re headlines.

Oscar’s composed during formation laps, fully in the zone. Lando, on the other hand, can’t seem to keep still. His fingers twitch on the wheel. His visor drops early. And when he lines up behind Oscar on the grid, his car nose to the back of the #81, the message is clear:

He’s not racing for position.

He’s racing him.

The lights go out at the start, and the tension snaps taut.

Oscar gets off the line clean. Fast. Aggressive, but composed—the kind of driver who cuts through chaos like he’s above it. He settles into P3 behind Leclerc and Max, calm radio calls rolling through your headset.

“Tyres feel stable. Brakes coming up nicely.” His tone is smooth. Professional. Locked in.

“Copy that, Oscar. You’re looking good. Just manage the gap.”

Lando, meanwhile, is chewing through the field from P7, but he’s not driving—he’s fighting. And it shows. He’s too heavy into the Nouvelle Chicane. Nearly clips the barrier at Mirabeau. Gets squeezed by Hamilton going into the tunnel and screams down the radio like it’s personal.

“Is anyone actually gonna call shit today, or should I just punt him off the fucking track?”

“Lando, stay focused.”

“Oh, now you want focus. Should’ve told golden boy to stay out of my way in quali.”

Twenty laps in, Oscar’s holding steady in third with tire wear perfectly balanced. Lando’s muscling his way up to P5, then P4 after a gutsy dive into Sainte Devote. It’s impressive. Chaotic. Pure Lando.

“Tell him if he’s going to block me, he better commit to it. This half-ass defending doesn’t help anyone.”

The pit wall tries to smooth it over.

“Copy, Lando. Maintain focus. Oscar’s running clean.”

There’s a beat of static. Then Lando again.

“If he wants to play team leader, he better drive like it.”

In Oscar’s car, there’s only quiet. Steady updates. Clean cornering. No rise. No reaction.

Just sector after sector of control.

But it’s Oscar who makes it look effortless.

Final laps tick down. Lando’s close—closer than he’s been all weekend—but not enough.

You watch the checkered flag fall from the garage viewing area, headset still clutched in one hand, heart thudding in your chest. Oscar crosses the line second—a solid, beautiful finish. No mistakes. No drama.

Lando follows in fourth.

The crowd roars. The team celebrates.

But inside the garage, the energy is split.

Half the crew glances toward the monitors. The other half glances toward you.

No one says anything.

But the silence speaks volumes.

The garage claps for Oscar’s podium. It’s not dramatic. No confetti. But the applause is sincere. You stay tucked to the side as he peels off his gloves and helmet, curls damp and jaw clenched with adrenaline.

He doesn’t look for you.

He knows you’re there.

The podium happens in a flash champagne, interviews, cameras. Oscar is graceful. Deflecting the kiss photo with a shrug:

”I try to keep focus on track. Everything else…” He shrugs. “That’s not what wins points. I let the track speak louder than the tabloids.”

Clean. Cool. Unbothered.

Lando’s post-race media scrum doesn’t go as smoothly.

His smile is too tight. His answers too short.

“Happy with your pace today?”

“No.”

“Anything you’d like to say about team dynamics?”

“I think a few people need to remember who they were before the cameras showed up.”

You’re not sure if it’s coincidence or fate. Lando's leaning against the wall near the back of the hospitality area, arms crossed over his chest, fire suit still half-zipped, sweat drying on his neck. The air between you tightens instantly.

He sees you before you speak.

“So that’s it?” he says, voice low, mocking, “You get your moment? Photo hits the press and suddenly you’re Piastri’s girl now?”

You keep your voice even. “It’s not about the photo.”

“No?” His eyebrows lift, “Looked like it. Looked like perfect timing, actually. Right before race day. You really going for the full storybook arc, huh?”

You cross your arms, matching his stance, “You think I planned that? You think I wanted to be caught?”

He snorts. “Certainly didn't stop.”

You step closer.

“You didn’t stop sleeping around. You didn’t stop ignoring me. You didn’t stop until I was already gone.”

His mouth twitches—not a smile. Something bitter.

“And you think Oscar’s different?”

“I know he is.”

He studies you then. Really looks. Like he’s trying to find the part of you that still belongs to him. The part he can poke and prod and control like he used to.

But it’s not there.

His breath stutters. He looks away—jaw tight, hands clenched.

There’s movement behind you.

Lando glances past your shoulder—posture tensing.

Oscar stands just beyond the corner. Silent. Watching.

But he doesn’t step in.

He meets your eyes—not Lando’s—and with one subtle nod, he turns to go.

Because he trusts you to handle this.

Because you needed to take this one yourself.

You find Oscar later by the hospitality coffee station, half-dressed down from his suit, fingers curled around a water bottle, his race boots unlaced. The crowds have thinned. The crew’s winding down. But he’s still here—waiting.

“You okay?” he asks, voice low.

“Yeah.”

A pause.

“You saw?”

“I heard,” he says. “Then I saw.”

He studies you.

“You handled him.”

You nod, then smile faintly. “So did you.”

Oscar lifts his water bottle and takes a sip.

You step closer. Not rushed. Just enough.

“Thank you,” you say quietly.

“For what?”

“Not stepping in.”

“Didn’t need to,” he replies, “I knew you could handle him.”

You lean into his side, your hand resting on his chest. His arm slips around your back like it’s instinct.

There are still cameras around.

Still whispers.

Still fallout coming.

But for now, it’s just the two of you.

Still standing.

FROM PADDOCK DARLING TO PIASTRI’S MYSTERY GIRL: MONACO GP’S MOST TALKED-ABOUT WOMAN

Well, well, well. Things are heating up in more ways than one at McLaren—and this time, it’s not just on track.

In case you missed it (though how could you?), Oscar Piastri made headlines this weekend for more than just his flawless P2 finish in Monaco. The 23-year-old Aussie was spotted sharing a kiss with a woman who—until recently—had been very publicly linked to his teammate, Lando Norris.

Yes. You read that right.

The viral photo, snapped late Saturday night on a rooftop terrace above the Monaco paddock, shows Piastri in what can only be described as a very cozy moment with a mystery girl who fans quickly identified as Lando’s longtime (but reportedly estranged) girlfriend.

Wearing his hoodie. With his hands around her waist. And what appear to be love bites peeking out from beneath her collar.

(We zoomed in. Don’t act like you didn’t.)

The woman once seen at every race on Lando Norris’ arm is no longer just a grid-side accessory—she’s made it very clear whose garage she’s in now. And it’s not Norris’.

Neither Oscar nor the woman in question have made an official statement, but the body language has said plenty. The pair has been spotted multiple times, hand-in-hand, unabashed.

While reps for McLaren offered no official comment on the photo, the tension in the garage during Saturday qualifying spoke volumes. Sources inside the paddock describe Norris as “visibly short-tempered,” with one engineer claiming he was “racing like he had something to prove.” As for Piastri? Calm, composed—and, if we may, focused.

He brought home P2.

Norris? P4—and reportedly less than thrilled.

Let’s not forget: this isn’t the first time Lando’s off-track antics have made waves—rumors of infidelity have followed the Brit through the past few seasons, though they were often brushed aside by his ever-loyal girlfriend. Until now.

While nothing has been confirmed (yet), it would certainly appear that she’s Oscar’s now.

Whether this unexpected romance will fuel drama or just give Oscar a boost on track remains to be seen, but one thing’s for sure: we’ll be watching.

Very closely.

Stay tuned. The summer break’s never felt so far away.

#oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri smut #ln4 #mclaren #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 smut

741 notes · View notes