#and hes so devoted to his experiments and shit | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xxsabitoxx · 1 year ago

Text

Breed | Kinktober

Satoru x AFAB Reader + Higher Up Suguru

Warnings: Mild dub-con, fucking with the intent of getting pregnant, creampies, pussy eating, voyeurism, drunk sex, use of pet name "princess", Satoru talking you through it, Satoru having a big ass cock ngl hehe, biting

A/N: Day 4... I got really carried away. Lordy lordy... enjoy

WORD COUNT: 6.2K

You swore you didn’t hear him right, your eyebrow cocking upwards as you opened your mouth to say something but Satoru beat you to it. “You want us to do what?” he sounded just as lost as you, face twisted in a grimace as he hoped his best friend would say it was nothing more than a sick joke. “I want the two of you to breed.” Suguru repeated with his easy going smile, eyes shifting between the two very concerned faces before him.

Ever since becoming a higher up in the Jujutsu world, Suguru had started to change.

“You… you’re joking, right?” You laughed a bit, eyes shifting to the white-haired man beside you to try and see how he was taking it. Sure enough, Satoru looked completely confused, blue eyes scanning his best friend’s face for some kind of inkling that this was all a prank. “I’m not joking, quite the contrary, I’m dead serious.” Still though, he was smiling, completely unphased. “Yeah, bull shit… I don’t know why you’d think it’s okay to make such a–”

“The higher ups and I have been discussing things. Since the two of you are undoubtedly the strongest of our generation, we want you two to produce children. We want to know if you’ll create sorcerers just as strong, if not stronger than the two of you.” You felt yourself stiffen, immediately off put that he had totally interrupted you to spout the most foul shit you’d ever heard. “We aren’t some fucking experiment.” Satoru stated blandly, arms coming up to splay across the back of the couch you two were sitting on. Suguru still seemed unphased.

“I don’t see why you two wouldn’t accept the offer.” You gasped, feeling Satoru stiffen beside you as Suguru said such blatantly ignorant shit. “Why wouldn't we accept? We aren’t even a couple! Never mind the fact that you want him to breed me like I’m some bitch in heat?!” you practically screeched, still partially believing this was a sick joke. Suguru’s smile faltered a little now, a crack in his facade that sent a shiver straight down your spine. “You two would be wise to accept the offer. I’m giving you a choice. The rest of the higher ups would not.”

“You’re not giving us a choice.” You immediately countered, mildly aware that Satoru’s arm was lowering a bit, as if to wrap around you protectively. “Oh but I am, dear y/n.” His hands clasped in front of him, that smile creeping back up his face as his eyes shut. You both shared a glance, eyes returning to Suguru as he exhaled and opened his eyes again. “Either the two of you fuck and let me watch, or the higher ups will sit in and watch you instead. I’m giving you the choice to do this comfortably or do this in front of many watching eyes.”

“I decline both options.” Satoru said with an air of annoyance, not willing to subject you to anything you didn’t want. “That is not an option, Satoru.” Suguru immediately countered, eyes shifting over to you. “Really what is the harm in this? You two can have some fun and then go on with your lives.” Suguru tried again, not grasping how this was a huge deal. “You want me to get her pregnant, Suguru. That is not something you can just move on from.” You remained quiet, still reeling from the fact that Suguru was dead serious. “Not only that but you are looking me dead in the eye and telling me this hypothetical child would be at the whim of the higher ups.”

Suguru knew how strongly Satoru felt about this matter, he had since their high school days. For the man across from you to be so blindly devoted to this inhumane experiment, he must have been brainwashed. “Suguru… did they threaten you or something?” Your voice was a little weaker now, Suguru may think the two of you only have two options, but you knew Satoru well enough to know a third. If it came down to life or death, Satoru would choose death. Not of you or himself, but of the hierarchy in the Jujutsu world. You were both strong enough to do it.

“Not at all, dear y/n. I just think this would be highly beneficial for not only the two of you but the rest of the jujutsu society. The Gojo clan needs an heir, if you two were to produce a child, it would bind both the Y/L/N clan and Gojo clan together. It would be utterly unstoppable with the two of you at their heads, a perfect child to take the reins when that time comes…” Satoru made a fake gagging sound, lifting his blindfold with one finger to look at Suguru. “Don’t tell me you really believe all that bull shit they’ve been feeding you.” Suguru’s calm aura faded completely at that, smile dropping from his face as his eyes became cold.

“Either we do it the easy way or the hard way. You fuck each other, or they’ll force it upon you. I, as your friend, implore you two to take the easy route. I mean really, even if she doesn’t get pregnant, at least you’ll have had a good time, no?” That clicked something in your mind, body straightening a bit as you mulled his words over in your mind. “I’m not going to fuck someone who isn’t willing, Suguru.” Satoru sounded completely uninterested now, letting the blindfold snap back into place as you sat up a little more. “Satoru…” you started, turning your body to face him. His head snapped in your direction, the tone of your voice was different.

Knowing he could still see you with the blindfold on, you turned your body and pressed yourself a little closer. Carefully, you brought your lips to his ear, using one hand to hide your mouth so Suguru couldn’t read your lips. “Why don’t we just play along, Satoru?” You swallowed, face feeling a bit warm as you settled again so he could reply. Much to your surprise, he turned his body so he could lean and whisper against your ear. You half expected him to just blurt his answer out. You held your breath as Satoru’s breath ghosted your ear, large hand easily blocking his face from Suguru’s view. “I don’t want to do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”

You sigh, letting him move away so you can press your lips to his ear again. “I’m fine with it, we can have fun with each other, can’t we?” you pulled away, shrugging your shoulders to say the decision was his. Satoru huffed out a laugh, one arm still draped over the back of the couch as he used the other to pull at his blindfold again. “Suguru, name a time and a place. We’ll entertain your request.” Your heart skipped, trying to remain composed as Suguru gave the two of you a sly smirk. “I’m glad you’ve made the right choice, we have a few things to discuss before we decide those main factors I’m afraid.” Still, he seemed thrilled at the thought.

“Then discuss them now, Suguru. If we are doing this, you need to act fast before we change our mind.” you appreciated that Satoru was now speaking for the both of you. It was giving you time to properly sort out your thoughts. “No need for such hostility, Satoru. I just want to figure out when the best time is for dear y/n. After all, she needs to be ovulating when you do this.” You stifled your shudder, you weren’t fond of being discussed like some dog that was about to be bred for his own personal gain. “I’m due to get my period in about two weeks time.”

You were lying, your cycle had just passed. But you knew if you told him you were currently in your ovulation period, the sooner this could be done and over with. “Well would you look at that, I came to you at the right time.” Suguru smiled, clearly he had done a little research beforehand. Beside you, Satoru was visibly confused, clearly having no understanding of a woman’s cycle. Not that you really expected him to in the first place, but you had to admit it was a bit amusing. “If that is the case, Suguru. Why don’t we get this over with, here and now?” you drawled, falling back into the couch and subsequently, Satoru’s arm.

“That works for me, does it work for you, Satoru?” You and Suguru were both looking at him now, a sigh leaving his plump lips before speaking. “Yeah, works for me.” Somewhere in the back of his mind he couldn’t quite believe you were willing to do this, especially after being so adamant about not wanting to. Something Suguru had said clearly convinced you, though he couldn’t be quite sure. “That settles it then, I’ll treat the two of you to drinks for accepting my offer.” You snorted, pushing yourself up and off the couch. “I expect a lot more than drinks, Suguru.” you patted your skirt, flattening any wrinkles that had formed while sitting.

“Dinner and sweets!” Satoru added, standing to his full height and stretching dramatically. “What he said, Suguru. You owe us big time.” You crossed your arms, watching your long time friend look between the two of you before heaving a sigh. “Alright, fine. Dinner, drinks and sweets.” Satoru cheered triumphantly, slinging an arm over your shoulder as you headed out the door. “Only one drink for Satoru though, he’s a lightweight and needs to perform.” you couldn’t help but snicker, Satoru’s face turning a shade of red as he yelled at Suguru for saying such things.

“It’s the truth and you know it, Satoru.” was all you managed, trying your best to keep up with the pace his lengthy legs set. “Who’s side are you on?!” he pulled you a little closer, nearly crushing you to his side. “I guess I should be on yours, shouldn’t I?” you teased, trying to ignore the new found flurry in your heart when you talked to him. But part of you couldn’t help but wonder, did he feel it too. Of course you would let your emotions start to toy with your mind, knowing full and well what would happen within a few hours time.

—

“S-shit… oh fuck…” Satoru choked out, blindfold pushed back and sitting on his head like a headband. Your teeth were sinking into the junction between his neck and shoulder, making his hips jerk up against yours. Suguru had cut Satoru off after one drink, the white-hair man getting more than tipsy off of it because of his low tolerance. You, on the other hand, had been three drinks in when Suguru cut you off. Having a better tolerance than Satoru did not equate to you being any less sloppy. Suguru was quickly learning that, eyes wide as he watched the two of you make out on the couch within the hotel room he had rented for the night.

You hadn’t even made it to the bed, your hands all over each other the moment he swiped the card and the door unlocked. Needless to say, Suguru didn’t think he would be in for such a ride. “E-easy! Fuck… y/n please!” Satoru whimpered, fingers digging into the flesh on your hips as you bit a little harder. You wanted to taste blood, desperate to leave a permanent mark on the man below you. Though, even in your intoxicated state you still had a heart. You eased up, lapping at the indents on his skin to try and soothe the damage. Satoru’s hips were restless, bucking into yours every few seconds. Each time your clothed cunt met his covered erection, a wave of molten heat spread through your already too hot body.

Behind the two of you, Suguru was getting comfortable in the plush chair that sat in the corner of the room. He had only consumed one drink, a buzz settling under his skin but not impairing him enough to let you two have free reign. “Don’t you dare waste a drop of his cum, if you’re going to grind on each other like horny teenagers, at least strip.” You audibly whined, looking over your shoulder to glare at Suguru. Though it wasn’t threatening at all, you looked like a child trying to intimidate an adult. “You heard me.” was all Suguru responded with, his tone demeaning as your face flushed. Satoru took your distraction as the perfect opportunity

You gasped, body falling forward against his as his fingers dug into your thighs. Hauling you up, Satoru made quick work of tossing you on the queen size bed, the white sheets quickly crumpling as you fell onto it. “You heard him, strip.” Satoru’s voice was mocking, and yet he was quickly undoing the top half of his uniform. You rolled your eyes, clearly disgruntled by your dominance being stripped from you. But you couldn’t complain, your skin was prickling with sweat, your own uniform sticking to you uncomfortably. Your fingers fumbled a bit as you undid your top, shouldering it off after a moment with Satoru’s eyes glued to you.

“You need help?” he breathed out, looking at the fabric of your bra hugging your breasts perfectly. “No, I’m fine…” always stubborn, you undid the button on your wrist and yanked your arm out, repeating the motion on your other arm with a little struggle. “Done yet?” Satoru’s knee sunk into the mattress, hands coming down to press into the linen as he waited for your “okay” to crawl on top of you. “Yeah, done.” you groaned, tossing the white button up at Suguru who managed to catch it. Maybe your reflexes really were slowing down from the booze. Satoru sighed, crawling fully onto the mattress and connecting his lips with yours.

Your hands came up to wrap around the back of his neck, legs spreading to accommodate him as you slowly laid back. You had to groan into the kiss, Satoru’s teeth grazing your lower lip for entrance only made you feel more defiant. You were slightly pissed he had moved so fast, you hadn’t even gotten the change to admire his toned torso. Which was something you had been most looking forward to, you knew the man was built but he was always hiding it under his uniform or baggy clothing. One of Satoru’s hands was splayed by your head, supporting him so he didn’t crush you under his weight. The other hand was cupping your cheek, trying to coax your stubborn jaw open for him. Still, you were managing to resist.

“Such a tease, y/n.” Suguru cooed from his spot, hand shamelessly adjusting his half-hard cock. Of course he’d enjoy this, how could he not? Satoru pulled away, gasping as you stared up at him. “She is, won’t open that pretty mouth for me… so cruel.” he whined, cheeks flushed pink as he dipped his head lower to return the favor you had paid him earlier. This time, it was your turn to gasp, fingers digging into the back of his neck since there was no hair to grab… curse him and his undercut. Satoru’s teeth were sinking into the same point on your body, making a mark that would match the already bruising bite you left behind on him. “F-fuck! Satoru!”

Your eyes shut, the warm pain blooming on your neck was only making the throb between your legs worsen. “I didn’t think it was possible for someone to be a masochist and a sadist at the same time.” Suguru mused, watching your eyes open slowly, head turning to glare at him. Still, he only smirked, fist pressed into his cheek as his other hand now began palming himself. You looked away, skin vibrating with the realization that Suguru was also getting off on this. “Satoru… ease up!” you whined after a moment, the feeling nearly dizzying as he finally released the skin he had clamped down on. Perfect teeth indents were left behind, the slight swell of blood appearing in some of them. He swallowed, throat dry at the sight.

“So pretty…” he murmured, head lowering to lap at the mark before trailing his lips up your neck and jaw. “Let me taste you this time, please?” you nodded, dazed as he slotted his lips over yours once more. You were a little easier on him now, mouth opening to accommodate his eager tongue. You shivered as you tasted the slight metallic blood mixing with the fruity cocktail he had consumed earlier. You were envious, he had managed to break your skin but you hadn’t been able to break his. No fair! Your fingers scratched at his skin the more you thought about it, pressing your head into the mattress to create a little distance so you could catch your breath.

“Please…” you gasped out, unsure of what you were asking him for. Yet, he seemed to understand perfectly. Satoru placed one last kiss to your slightly swollen lips before his head dipped lower. Carefully, he kissed down your neck to your chest, burying his face in your sternum, cradled by your breasts. “Can I take this off of you?” He asked even though he knew the answer was yes, still you nodded. Satoru’s hand slipped around your back, the other still supporting himself. You helped by rolling over a bit, allowing him to nimbly undo the clasp of your bra. He tugged it off of you, holding in a shaky breath as he admired your bare skin. Your nipples were pebbling under the cool air of the room, making your cheeks feel warm as Satoru clearly observed them.

No words were spoken as his head lowered again, tongue running along the valley between your breasts before making the decision to go left. You tried to suppress your noises as his nose dragged along your skin, his tongue leaving a wet trail as he lapped around the pliant skin. He made a point to avoid your nipple, wanting to tease you until you were squirming. You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, not willing to give in so easily, still annoyed you were being dominated. “C’mon sweetheart, let me hear that pretty voice.” Satoru pulled away enough to speak, chlorine blue eyes shining even in the dim hotel light. You held his gaze for only a moment before looking away, lips wobbling as he returned to sucking bruises on your breast.

A quiet, barely audible sigh left your lips, and that seemed to be enough for Satoru. A loud gasp slipped out of you as his lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking across the sensitive bud before he sucked. It was a dizzying feeling, each movement sending a shockwave of pleasure straight down to your cunt. You wanted to feel him, every single inch, that realization tore a moan from your lips as your fingers moved from his neck to thread in his hair. “Satoru… I don’t want to be teased…” You could feel your panties sticking to your cunt as you squirmed, the feeling mildly uncomfortable until you found the right angle. If you moved just right, you could brush against his erection.

This earned a low groan from Satoru, his teeth grazing your nipple in retaliation. Suguru was still watching, amused as the two of you toyed with one another. “Satoru please!” you cried out again as his teeth actually sunk into the tender flesh, making your eyes water as you tugged on his hair hard enough to pull his head away. The only issue was that he didn't let go, you tugging him away from your chest only caused him to pull at your nipple. A shrill cry left your lips this time, hands immediately letting his hair go as his head lowered to a more tolerable distance. You were panting, your heartbeat racing as Satoru’s free hand moved to cup your other breast.

He was putting all of his weight on his knees, but that didn’t stop you from feeling the brunt of his weight. “Satoru…” you tried again as he finally let go of your nipple. Still, he didn’t answer you, slim fingers tugging on your other nipple as his eyes focused on yours. You looked completely fucked out already, pupils blown and eyelids heavy as you stared up at him. “Gonna fuck you real good, princess.” Your lips parted at the nickname, not expecting it to have such an effect on you. “Then get to it.” you whined, missing his warmth the moment he straightened. He was towering over you know, giving you a full shot of his muscular torso.

“Can I take your skirt off?” he asked for your permission yet again, eyes shifting to where his blindfold sat by the pillows. It had slipped off his head when he took his uniform off, but he had the intention of using it for something else later on. “You can, please…” breathless, your hips lifted so he could hook his fingers in the waistband and tug them off of you. Satoru did just as you wanted, pulling your skirt and panties off in one go. You sighed in relief, not at all embarrassed this time when Satoru shamelessly admired your bare cunt. “Pretty.” It was more to himself than you, either way it made you whine.

“I want to see you, Satoru.” You whined, arms reaching out to try and grab for his waistband. Your hands missed, making you burst into a fit of giggles as you tried to push yourself up. Satoru smirked, undoing his pants with leisure as he looked you over. “You were doing so good at hiding the fact you’re not sober.” He comments, watching you give up and flop back onto the bed with your legs spread around him. He had managed to get his pants off without making a fool of himself. As for his briefs, they were still hugging his hips, straining tightly as his hard-on pressed into the soft material. Behind you, Suguru was chuckling at Satoru’s comment.

“Yeah, you’re just as bad as she is if you think she was hiding her intoxication.” Still, he was mildly impressed that Satoru had stripped as far as he had without falling over. “Hurry up and pull your cock out.” you groaned, tired of the men’s banter. There was a time and place and it wasn’t now, when your cunt was aching with the desire to be filled up. “Fuck…” Satoru hissed at your words, reaching down to push his briefs, ignoring the way Suguru groaned at your desperation. You swallowed the moment his cock sprang free, slapping up against his abdomen and nearly pulling the air from your lungs. He was big to say the least. Not only that, he was girthy, the kind of girth that would hurt no matter how prepared you were.

“Damn…” was all you managed to croak, lip trembling a bit as he got his briefs off the rest of the way. Satoru smirked, your reaction stroking his ego in perfect time with his fist stroking his cock. You met his gaze, silently begging him to do something. Satoru took the initiative, grabbing under your knees and pushing you further up into the mattress. “Don’t work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt…” You wanted to ask what he was about to do, but your answer came seconds later as he lowered himself onto his stomach, half of his body hanging off the bed as he settled between your spread thighs. You tried to suppress the strangled noise that left your throat as Satoru’s nose dragged along your inner thighs, shamelessly inhaling the smell of your arousal.

“S-satoru!” you squealed, hands coming up to cover your face as he groaned. “You smell so fucking good.” You whined, thighs twitching to close around his head but his hands managed to stop you before you could successfully do it. Your head tilted back, too embarrassed to look down at your body and see Satoru start kissing your inner thighs. Suguru watched with dilated pupils, adjusting himself yet again in order to properly monitor the two of you. If he gave into his desires, who knows what the two of you would do. So instead, he sunk his teeth into the side of his cheek and watched you diligently. “Satoru~” you whined as his tongue licked up your folds, not going any further, just covering them in the slick shine of his saliva.

Your back arched off the mattress the moment his teeth sunk into the underside of your thigh, pain blossoming under the pressure and earning a shrill cry from your lips. It was so sudden that it was nearly dizzying, earning breathless whimpers as he lapped at the now bruising skin. “Sorry…” though you could tell he wasn’t “… you’re just so biteable.” You wanted to scold him but you were too lost in the sensation of his mouth returning to your cunt, letting them fall open for him with ease to give him the access he desired. The first time Satoru’s tongue passed over your clit, you were certain stars were dotting your vision. He knew better than to poke and prod anywhere else, focusing every ounce of his attention on the pulsing bud below his tongue.

You felt your thighs tremble, hands twisting in the sheets as you tried to suppress the surplus of whiny moans that slipped out of you. Satoru’s tongue was just as nimble as his fingers, swiping across the sensitive flesh in rapid succession before his lips wrapped around it. You tugged a little harder, the sheets going taut under your fingers as Satoru sucked on your clit just as he had with your nipple. “Fuck… oh fuck… please… just like that… suck it like t-that…” Somewhere in the back of your mind you were mortified for uttering such things, but you couldn’t help but notice the coil in your abdomen tightening with each syllable you spoke.

It seemed to have a similar effect on Satoru, the man groaning audibly against your bare cunt as his teeth grazed the tender flesh. “S-satoru!” you stuttered out, stomach tightening as his teeth sent a bolt of electricity straight up your spine. The only give away that he heard you was the way his fingers dug into the soft skin of your thighs. You were already close, too overwhelmed by the sensations Satoru bestowed on you. Satoru could tell by the way your sticky arousal was coating his chin each time he grinded his own face into your cunt. He wanted to suffocate on you, dying by your pussy would easily be the best way to go.

The thought made his hips buck into nothing, mind drowning in the thoughts of shoving his cock into you and doing just as he so boldly refused only a few hours earlier… pumping you full of his cum so you would bear his child. He wanted to utter the filthiest things to you but he knew if he paused for even a moment, that sweet relief you were clearly craving would fizzle away and you’d be back at square one. And at this point, anything that further delayed him delving into your warm cunt felt like pure torture. One of your hands managed to uncurl itself from the hotel sheets, reaching down to instead thread through Satoru’s silky soft white strands.

You tugged, albeit a little harder than you probably intended, and smothered his face even harder into your cunt. Satoru audibly whimpered at the pain of your tugging, only sending your stomach into a summersault as your orgasm dangled dangerously in front of you. “Satoru please!” you wailed, head tossing back again to make contact with a clearly turned on Suguru. “Go on, Satoru, you heard her, make her cum.” he encouraged with a shaky voice, his tone a lot more wobbly than it had been all night. That made you moan even louder, knowing how visibly turned on he was by this whole thing… and to think you had been so against it at first.

Satoru grumbled something but it was muffled by your cunt, sending vibrations straight through your core. It didn’t take much more than that, his tongue licking so eagerly at your clit had you spilling all over his face. Your ears ring with the force of your orgasm, Satoru’s touches turning light enough to work you through it without overstimulating you. As much as Satoru wanted to lap up every ounce of your release, he knew he needed you to be sloppy to be able to take him. So, reluctantly, after a few chaste kisses to your now puffy clit, he pulled away. “Do you need a break?” he spoke with a slight pant, face flushed and shiny from his own sweat and your arousal.

“No… fuck no. Please, Satoru, I want you inside of me.” He couldn’t deny that request, judging by the groan Suguru let out, he wouldn’t deny it either. “Alright.. Fuck alright…” Satoru was getting back on the bed fully, grabbing your ankles and lifting them. You had no time to even squeal in protest before Satoru was folding you into a mating press. “Y-you haven’t even entered me yet…” you wheezed, your knees nearly touching your breasts as the over six foot man settled more of his weight onto you. “Shh don’t worry princess, this will be worth it.” any protest died on your lips, the nickname of his choosing made your body feel warm all over.

Satoru got himself as comfortable as he could, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to truly settle until he pushed his way inside of you. Ever aware of his size, Satoru ran the slightly swollen head of his cock between your puffy folds, letting your arousal cover him. He held his breath, too enthralled by the way yours caught in your throat each time he bumped your clit. “It’ll hurt a bit at first but it’ll ease up pretty quick, okay?” His alcohol was wearing off but it was no match for his pussy drunk daze. Still, he was going to walk you through each thing he did, blue eyes sparkling with tender reassurance. You nodded, chewing on your lower lip as he positioned his head at your entrance. “Just relax, princess…”

You nodded, inhaling deeply before slowly letting it out. Satoru timed your breathing with his movements, pressing into you as you exhaled. Your breathing stuttered just a bit as the bulbous head of his cock split you open, stretching you wide and making you flinch. Satoru stopped, whispering soft praises before he kept his hips moving. “It’ll be more uncomfortable if I just stay in place, let me bottom out.” You nodded, your hands holding onto the backs of your thighs as Satoru kept pushing his length into you. When he noticed tears starting to shine in your eyes, he cooed soft reassurance to you, ignoring how his cock was pulsating between your fluttering walls. “I’m almost all the way in, the worst part is almost over.” He smiled a bit, thumb brushing your knee where he held it. You couldn’t recall ever being with a man that had a dick this big.

“Rub her clit, Satoru. That will help ease any of her discomfort.” Suguru chimed, hand blatantly palming his erection as he greedily observed. “Good thinking.” Satoru hummed, the hand he had been using to guide himself into you now moved to rub gentle circles on your clit. Stars exploded in your vision as the uncomfortable stretch turned into blinding pleasure. Your walls clamped down around him, earning a barely audible whimper between his endless praises. “Yo-you’re taking me so well, I’m sorry it’s so big… oh fuck you’re doing so good f’me princess.” Satoru whined, bottoming out as he tried to regain his bearing before fucking into you. It was nearly impossible to stay still, but the last thing he wanted was to hurt you in this way. He would later argue that the bite marks you bestowed on one another were different from this.

“Are you okay?” He breathed out, looking at you with lidded eyes and parted lips, making your heart stutter in your chest as you nodded on autopilot. Satoru smiled, settling his body onto you better and really solidifying the mating press he had maneuvered you into. “I’m gonna start moving, princess. Just tell me if I get too rough…” his arms hooked under your knees, forcing your legs wider and further up as he found himself a good position to roll his hips into you. Your hands shakily reached up to rest on his shoulders, shivering as Satoru’s head came to bury in the crook of your neck. Even from Suguru’s perspective, he couldn’t tell where you started and Satoru ended, completely engulfed in one another as Satoru began to find his rhythm.

Your hands quickly turned from resting to grabbing, breathless whines leaving your lips as Satoru’s cock dragged in and out of your already sensitive cunt. He felt heavy and warm despite being enveloped in your suffocating heat. You could feel the slight upward curve every time he passed over one particular spot, it wasn’t long before a slick squelch emitted from where your bodies connected. “Oh fuck… oh fuck…” Satoru whimpered against your neck, losing himself in the slipper embrace of your cunt. “So good.. Fuck you feel so good… you’re so wet…” he nearly sobbed into your neck, drunk off of your body as his hips relentlessly fucked into you. “Gonna fill you up so good, princess. Fuck so–so fucking good.” he continued to blabber, tears threatening to spill from his eyes as pleasure racked his body over and over.

You were too far gone to respond to anything, loud moans falling from your lips as you tried to convey how he was making you feel. Each connection had Satoru’s balls slapping against your ass, earning a low whimper into the crook of your neck, right over where he had bitten you. “Make sure you tell me when you’re cumming, Satoru.” Suguru spoke in a slightly raised tone, between the noises you were both making and the noises your bodies made each time he slammed into you, Suguru needed to be sure he was heard. Satoru only lifted his head a bit to mumble a “sure”, vision blurry as he sloppily slotted his lips over yours. The kiss was nothing short of a mess, tongues and breathless pants colliding as drool seeped down the sides of your mouth. Your abdomen was tightening again, an orgasm prickling in your gut as Satoru’s pubic bone managed to rub your cunt with each messy thrust.

“Gonna cum… ‘toru…” You slurred, this time your impending orgasm felt a little more relaxed, a warmth spreading through you as Satoru hovered over you. He was studying your face intently, lips a pretty shade of pink and slightly swollen from your kisses. He was close too, but his ability to speak seemed to be robbed by the way your cunt clenched around him. No words could get past his lips, nevermind form in his brain. Satoru’s hips bucked into you a little harder, your whole body shaking with the force of his blows before finally, he was stuttering into you with a loud groan. Your own orgasm hit you shortly after, making your body quiver as Satoru spilled his seed into you. His hips were rocking still, fucking his load deep into your awaiting womb. “So… fuck take it all… take every last drop, Princess…” he had given up on making sense, half of his words stumbling over the other as you tried to remember how to breathe.

The room finally fell silent, Satoru’s body was still mildly restless as his hips slowly grinded into you. “Well done, you two.” Suguru’s voice earned a groan from the two of you, in your post-orgasm haze, you had forgotten he was there. “You can relax for a few minutes but you’ll have to start round two soon… oh, and Satoru? Don’t you dare pull out of her, keep every drop inside.” Satoru’s body nearly collapsed on you fully at that. “Round two?” He rasped out, limbs feeling like pure jello. “Yes, round two. We have to be thorough. If this doesn't work, we’ll have to keep trying until it's successful.” Suguru was once again displaying a nonchalant behavior regarding the whole thing. “Fine by me.” you slurred out before Satoru could even complain, clarity hitting him like a freight train until you uttered your approval.

If you were okay with it, then so was Satoru. He didn’t think he’d be able to give up a cunt like yours after tonight, whether it was part of Suguru’s breeding plan or not. “Alright then, whatever you want, you get.” Satoru murmured, lowering again to kiss you tenderly.

#kinktober 2023 #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #gojo smut #satoru smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #gojo #satoru #gojo x you #satoru x you #satoru x y/n

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mostlysignssomeportents · 15 days ago

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Retiring the US debt would retire the US dollar

THIS WEDNESDAY (October 23) at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

One of the most consequential series of investigative journalism of this decade was the Propublica series that Jesse Eisinger helmed, in which Eisinger and colleagues analyzed a trove of leaked IRS tax returns for the richest people in America:

https://www.propublica.org/series/the-secret-irs-files

The Secret IRS Files revealed the fact that many of America's oligarchs pay no tax at all. Some of them even get subsidies intended for poor families, like Jeff Bezos, whose tax affairs are so scammy that he was able to claim to be among the working poor and receive a federal Child Tax Credit, a $4,000 gift from the American public to one of the richest men who ever lived:

https://www.propublica.org/article/the-secret-irs-files-trove-of-never-before-seen-records-reveal-how-the-wealthiest-avoid-income-tax

As important as the numbers revealed by the Secret IRS Files were, I found the explanations even more interesting. The 99.9999% of us who never make contact with the secretive elite wealth management and tax cheating industry know, in the abstract, that there's something scammy going on in those esoteric cults of wealth accumulation, but we're pretty vague on the details. When I pondered the "tax loopholes" that the rich were exploiting, I pictured, you know, long lists of equations salted with Greek symbols, completely beyond my ken.

But when Propublica's series laid these secret tactics out, I learned that they were incredibly stupid ruses, tricks so thin that the only way they could possibly fool the IRS is if the IRS just didn't give a shit (and they truly didn't – after decades of cuts and attacks, the IRS was far more likely to audit a family earning less than $30k/year than a billionaire).

This has become a somewhat familiar experience. If you read the Panama Papers, the Paradise Papers, Luxleaks, Swissleaks, or any of the other spectacular leaks from the oligarch-industrial complex, you'll have seen the same thing: the rich employ the most tissue-thin ruses, and the tax authorities gobble them up. It's like the tax collectors don't want to fight with these ultrawealthy monsters whose net worth is larger than most nations, and merely require some excuse to allow them to cheat, anything they can scribble in the box explaining why they are worth billions and paying little, or nothing, or even entitled to free public money from programs intended to lift hungry children out of poverty.

It was this experience that fueled my interest in forensic accounting, which led to my bestselling techno-crime-thriller series starring the two-fisted, scambusting forensic accountant Martin Hench, who made his debut in 2022's Red Team Blues:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865847/red-team-blues

The double outrage of finding out how badly the powerful are ripping off the rest of us, and how stupid and transparent their accounting tricks are, is at the center of Chokepoint Capitalism, the book about how tech and entertainment companies steal from creative workers (and how to stop them) that Rebecca Giblin and I co-authored, which also came out in 2022:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Now that I've written four novels and a nonfiction book about finance scams, I think I can safely call myself a oligarch ripoff hobbyist. I find this stuff endlessly fascinating, enraging, and, most importantly, energizing. So naturally, when PJ Vogt devoted two episodes of his excellent Search Engine podcast to the subject last week, I gobbled them up:

https://www.searchengine.show/listen/search-engine-1/why-is-it-so-hard-to-tax-billionaires-part-1

I love the way Vogt unpacks complex subjects. Maybe you've had the experience of following a commentator and admiring their knowledge of subjects you're unfamiliar with, only have them cover something you're an expert in and find them making a bunch of errors (this is basically the experience of using an LLM, which can give you authoritative seeming answers when the subject is one you're unfamiliar with, but which reveals itself to be a Bullshit Machine as soon as you ask it about something whose lore you know backwards and forwards).

Well, Vogt has covered many subjects that I am an expert in, and I had the opposite experience, finding that even when he covers my own specialist topics, I still learn something. I don't always agree with him, but always find those disagreements productive in that they make me clarify my own interests. (Full disclosure: I was one of Vogt's experts on his previous podcast, Reply All, talking about the inkjet printerization of everything:)

https://gimletmedia.com/shows/reply-all/brho54

Vogt's series on taxing billionaires was no exception. His interview subjects (including Eisinger) were very good, and he got into a lot of great detail on the leaker himself, Charles Littlejohn, who plead guilty and was sentenced to five years:

https://jacobin.com/2023/10/charles-littlejohn-irs-whistleblower-pro-publica-tax-evasion-prosecution

Vogt also delved into the history of the federal income tax, how it was sold to the American public, and a rather hilarious story of Republican Congressional gamesmanship that backfired spectacularly. I'd never encountered this stuff before and boy was it interesting.

But then Vogt got into the nature of taxation, and its relationship to the federal debt, another subject I've written about extensively, and that's where one of those productive disagreements emerged. Yesterday, I set out to write him a brief note unpacking this objection and ended up writing a giant essay (sorry, PJ!), and this morning I found myself still thinking about it. So I thought, why not clean up the email a little and publish it here?

As much as I enjoyed these episodes, I took serious exception to one – fairly important! – aspect of your analysis: the relationship of taxes to the national debt.

There's two ways of approaching this question, which I think of as akin to classical vs quantum physics. In the orthodox, classical telling, the government taxes us to pay for programs. This is crudely true at 10,000 feet and as a rule of thumb, it's fine in many cases. But on the ground – at the quantum level, in this analogy – the opposite is actually going on.

There is only one source of US dollars: the US Treasury (you can try and make your own dollars, but they'll put you in prison for a long-ass time if they catch you.).

If dollars can only originate with the US government, then it follows that:

a) The US government doesn't need our taxes to get US dollars (for the same reason Apple doesn't need us to redeem our iTunes cards to get more iTunes gift codes);

b) All the dollars in circulation start with spending by the US government (taxes can't be paid until dollars are first spent by their issuer, the US government); and

c) That spending must happen before anyone has been taxed, because the way dollars enter circulation is through spending.

You've probably heard people say, "Government spending isn't like household spending." That is obviously true: households are currency users while governments are currency issuers.

But the implications of this are very interesting.

First, the total dollars in circulation are:

a) All the dollars the government has ever spent into existence funding programs, transferring to the states, and paying its own employees, minus

b) All the dollars that the government has taxed away from us, and subsequently annihilated.

(Because governments spend money into existence and tax money out of existence.)

The net of dollars the government spends in a given year minus the dollars the government taxes out of existence that year is called "the national deficit." The total of all those national deficits is called "the national debt." All the dollars in circulation today are the result of this national debt. If the US government didn't have a debt, there would be no dollars in circulation.

The only way to eliminate the national debt is to tax every dollar in circulation out of existence. Because the national debt is "all the dollars the government has ever spent," minus "all the dollars the government has ever taxed." In accounting terms, "The US deficit is the public's credit."

When billionaires like Warren Buffet tell Jesse Eisinger that he doesn't pay tax because "he thinks his money is better spent on charitable works rather than contributing to an insignificant reduction of the deficit," he is, at best, technically wrong about why we tax, and at worst, he's telling a self-serving lie. The US government doesn't need to eliminate its debt. Doing so would be catastrophic. "Retiring the US debt" is the same thing as "retiring the US dollar."

So if the USG isn't taxing to retire its debts, why does it tax? Because when the USG – or any other currency issuer – creates a token, that token is, on its face, useless. If I offered to sell you some "Corycoins," you would quite rightly say that Corycoins have no value and thus you don't need any of them.

For a token to be liquid – for it to be redeemable for valuable things, like labor, goods and services – there needs to be something that someone desires that can be purchased with that token. Remember when Disney issued "Disney dollars" that you could only spend at Disney theme parks? They traded more or less at face value, even outside of Disney parks, because everyone knew someone who was planning a Disney vacation and could make use of those Disney tokens.

But if you go down to a local carny and play skeeball and win a fistful of tickets, you'll find it hard to trade those with anyone outside of the skeeball counter, especially once you leave the carny. There's two reasons for this:

1) The things you can get at the skeeball counter are pretty crappy so most people don't desire them; and ' 2) Most people aren't planning on visiting the carny, so there's no way for them to redeem the skeeball tickets even if they want the stuff behind the counter (this is also why it's hard to sell your Iranian rials if you bring them back to the US – there's not much you can buy in Iran, and even someone you wanted to buy something there, it's really hard for US citizens to get to Iran).

But when a sovereign currency issuer – one with the power of the law behind it – demands a tax denominated in its own currency, they create demand for that token. Everyone desires USD because almost everyone in the USA has to pay taxes in USD to the government every year, or they will go to prison. That fact is why there is such a liquid market for USD. Far more people want USD to pay their taxes than will ever want Disney dollars to spend on Dole Whips, and even if you are hoping to buy a Dole Whip in Fantasyland, that desire is far less important to you than your desire not to go to prison for dodging your taxes.

Even if you're not paying taxes, you know someone who is. The underlying liquidity of the USD is inextricably tied to taxation, and that's the first reason we tax. By issuing a token – the USD – and then laying on a tax that can only be paid in that token (you cannot pay federal income tax in anything except USD – not crypto, not euros, not rials – only USD), the US government creates demand for that token.

And because the US government is the only source of dollars, the US government can purchase anything that is within its sovereign territory. Anything denominated in US dollars is available to the US government: the labor of every US-residing person, the land and resources in US territory, and the goods produced within the US borders. The US doesn't need to tax us to buy these things (remember, it makes new money by typing numbers into a spreadsheet at the Federal Reserve). But it does tax us, and if the taxes it levies don't equal the spending it's making, it also sells us T-bills to make up the shortfall.

So the US government kinda acts like classical physics is true, that is, like it is a household and thus a currency user, and not a currency issuer. If it spends more than it taxes, it "borrows" (issues T-bills) to make up the difference. Why does it do this? To fight inflation.

The US government has no monetary constraints, it can make as many dollars as it cares to (by typing numbers into a spreadsheet). But the US government is fiscally constrained, because it can only buy things that are denominated in US dollars (this is why it's such a big deal that global oil is priced in USD – it means the US government can buy oil from anywhere, not only the USA, just by typing numbers into a spreadsheet).

The supply of dollars is infinite, but the supply of labor and goods denominated in US dollars is finite, and, what's more, the people inside the USA expect to use that labor and goods for their own needs. If the US government issues so many dollars that it can outbid every private construction company for the labor of electricians, bricklayers, crane drivers, etc, and puts them all to work building federal buildings, there will be no private construction.

Indeed, every time the US government bids against the private sector for anything – labor, resources, land, finished goods – the price of that thing goes up. That's one way to get inflation (and it's why inflation hawks are so horny for slashing government spending – to get government bidders out of the auction for goods, services and labor).

But while the supply of goods for sale in US dollars is finite, it's not fixed. If the US government takes away some of the private sector's productive capacity in order to build interstates, train skilled professionals, treat sick people so they can go to work (or at least not burden their working-age relations), etc, then the supply of goods and services denominated in USD goes up, and that makes more fiscal space, meaning the government and the private sector can both consume more of those goods and services and still not bid against one another, thus creating no inflationary pressure.

Thus, taxes create liquidity for US dollars, but they do something else that's really important: they reduce the spending power of the private sector. If the US only ever spent money into existence and never taxed it out of existence, that would create incredible inflation, because the supply of dollars would go up and up and up, while the supply of goods and services you could buy with dollars would grow much more slowly, because the US government wouldn't have the looming threat of taxes with which to coerce us into doing the work to build highways, care for the sick, or teach people how to be doctors, engineers, etc.

Taxes coercively reduce the purchasing power of the private sector (they're a stick). T-bills do the same thing, but voluntarily (they the carrot).

A T-bill is a bargain offered by the US government: "Voluntarily park your money instead of spending it. That will create fiscal space for us to buy things without bidding against you, because it removes your money from circulation temporarily. That means we, the US government, can buy more stuff and use it to increase the amount of goods and services you can buy with your money when the bond matures, while keeping the supply of dollars and the supply of dollar-denominated stuff in rough equilibrium."

So a bond isn't a debt – it's more like a savings account. When you move money from your checking to your savings, you reduce its liquidity, meaning the bank can treat it as a reserve without worrying quite so much about you spending it. In exchange, the bank gives you some interest, as a carrot.

I know, I know, this is a big-ass wall of text. Congrats if you made it this far! But here's the upshot. We should tax billionaires, because it will reduce their economic power and thus their political power.

But we absolutely don't need to tax billionaires to have nice things. For example: the US government could hire every single unemployed person without creating inflationary pressure on wages, because inflation only happens when the US government tries to buy something that the private sector is also trying to buy, bidding up the price. To be "unemployed" is to have labor that the private sector isn't trying to buy. They're synonyms. By definition, the feds could put every unemployed person to work (say, training one another to be teachers, construction workers, etc – and then going out and taking care of the sick, addressing the housing crisis, etc etc) without buying any labor that the private sector is also trying to buy.

What's even more true than this is that our taxes are not going to reduce the national debt. That guest you had who said, "Even if we tax billionaires, we will never pay off the national debt,"" was 100% right, because the national debt equals all the money in circulation.

Which is why that guest was also very, very wrong when she said, "We will have to tax normal people too in order to pay off the debt." We don't have to pay off the debt. We shouldn't pay off the debt. We can't pay off the debt. Paying off the debt is another way of saying "eliminating the dollar."

Taxation isn't a way for the government to pay for things. Taxation is a way to create demand for US dollars, to convince people to sell goods and services to the US government, and to constrain private sector spending, which creates fiscal space for the US government to buy goods and services without bidding up their prices.

And in a "classical physics" sense, all of the preceding is kinda a way of saying, "Taxes pay for government spending." As a rough approximation, you can think of taxes like this and generally not get into trouble.

But when you start to make policy – when you contemplate when, whether, and how much to tax billionaires – you leave behind the crude, high-level approximation and descend into the nitty-gritty world of things as they are, and you need to jettison the convenience of the easy-to-grasp approximation.

If you're interested in learning more about this, you can tune into this TED Talk by Stephanie Kelton, formerly formerly advisor to the Senate Budget Committee chair, now back teaching and researching econ at University of Missouri at Kansas City:

https://www.ted.com/talks/stephanie_kelton_the_big_myth_of_government_deficits?subtitle=en

Stephanie has written a great book about this, The Deficit Myth:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/05/14/everybody-poops/#deficit-myth

There's a really good feature length doc about it too, called "Finding the Money":

https://findingmoneyfilm.com/

If you'd like to read more of my own work on this, here's a column I wrote about the nature of currency in light of Web3, crypto, etc:

https://locusmag.com/2022/09/cory-doctorow-moneylike/

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/21/we-can-have-nice-things/#public-funds-not-taxpayer-dollars

#pluralistic #mmt #modern monetary theory #warren buffett #podcasts #pj vogt #billionaires #economics #we can have nice things #taxes #taxing billionaires #the irs files #irs files #jesse eisenger #propublica

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its-avalon-08 · 2 months ago

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what are we running from? (op81)

(monza has my heart, but what is mclaren doing? papaya rules and all that shit for more tension? our boys deserve better! enjoy this one because i shed a few tears writing it <3 )

✦ pairing - oscar piastri x female!reader

✦ genre - friends to lovers, neglect, a LOT angst, alot of tears, super long im sorry

Oscar Piastri and Y/N had always been inseparable, their bond forged in the fires of shared experiences and unwavering support. From the outside, their relationship seemed almost too good to be true—two best friends who had known each other for years, with a connection so deep that it felt like they were more than just friends, even if neither of them had ever dared to say it out loud.

It had started back in their school days, when they first met in a classroom filled with the nervous energy of new beginnings. Oscar, with his quiet determination and sharp wit, had caught Y/N’s attention almost immediately. She, on the other hand, had this vibrant, magnetic personality that drew people in, and before long, they had become fast friends.

As time went on, their friendship only grew stronger. They spent countless hours together, whether it was studying for exams, watching movies, or just hanging out at each other’s houses. They knew each other’s quirks, habits, and fears better than anyone else. Oscar could tell when Y/N was upset just by the way she fidgeted with her hair, and Y/N knew exactly when Oscar needed a distraction by the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

They were a team, an unbreakable pair that everyone else could only admire. Friends would often joke about how they were like an old married couple—finishing each other’s sentences, knowing each other’s favorite foods, and sharing a kind of unspoken communication that others found both endearing and perplexing.

But it wasn’t just their closeness that made their relationship special; it was the way they supported each other through everything. When Oscar started his journey in racing, Y/N was there every step of the way, cheering him on from the sidelines, offering words of encouragement when things got tough, and celebrating with him after every victory. She was his rock, his constant, and in a world that was often unpredictable, Y/N was the one thing Oscar could always count on.

And Oscar was just as devoted to Y/N. He was the one she called in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep, the one who listened patiently to her dreams and fears, the one who knew exactly how to make her laugh when she was feeling down. He was the calm to her storm, the steady presence that grounded her when everything else felt chaotic.

Their physical closeness was another thing that set them apart. Oscar and Y/N were never shy about showing affection—whether it was cuddling on the couch during movie nights, holding hands when they were out together, or the way Y/N would rest her head on Oscar’s shoulder when she was tired. It was the kind of closeness that blurred the lines between friendship and something more, but they had always kept it in the realm of friendship, never daring to cross that invisible boundary.

Yet, underneath it all, there was something unspoken between them, something that both of them felt but neither of them acknowledged. It was in the way Oscar’s heart would skip a beat whenever Y/N smiled at him, or the way Y/N’s breath would catch whenever Oscar hugged her just a little too tightly. It was the feeling that there was something more between them, something that could change everything if they ever dared to explore it.

But that unspoken connection, as strong as it was, also carried a weight—a fear of losing what they had if they ever tried to turn it into something more. And so, they kept it hidden, buried beneath layers of friendship, where it was safe from the risks that came with love.

They were best friends—inseparable, devoted, and utterly reliant on each other. But beneath the surface, there was a tension, a yearning that neither of them wanted to admit. And it was only a matter of time before that tension would come to a head, forcing them to confront the feelings they had both tried so hard to ignore.

<3 <3

Oscar had always known he was in trouble when it came to Y/N. From the moment they met, they had clicked in a way that felt effortless, natural—like they were meant to be in each other's lives. She was his best friend, his confidante, his comfort. But somewhere along the way, Oscar had started feeling something more. He fell for her, hard, and though every fiber of his being screamed to tell her, he never did. He couldn’t risk losing her.

But things had changed. Y/N had started seeing someone new, and for the first time, Oscar felt the ground shift beneath him. Their usual routine of late-night calls, movie marathons, and endless cuddles had been replaced by her excited chatter about her new boyfriend, her plans for dates, and the moments that didn’t include him.

flashback

The shift in Y/N’s behavior started subtly, but it grew more apparent with each passing day. Oscar noticed it first at the small gatherings they used to enjoy together—nights spent with their closest friends, where they would usually stick close, laughing at inside jokes and exchanging amused glances from across the room. But now, things were different.

It began with Jake, the guy Y/N had started seeing. At first, Oscar didn’t think much of it—he’d seen Y/N date before, and it had never really affected their friendship. But something about Jake seemed to pull her further away from him in a way that felt like a slow, painful drift.

The first time it really hit him was at a party one of their mutual friends was hosting. Oscar had arrived a bit late, expecting to find Y/N waiting for him with a drink in hand, eager to catch him up on everything he’d missed. But instead, he found her on the other side of the room, wrapped up in Jake’s arms, laughing at something he’d said.

Oscar tried to brush it off, forcing a smile as he approached. “Hey, Y/N,” he greeted her, hoping for the usual warmth in her eyes.

She glanced over at him, but the smile she gave him was distant, almost distracted. “Oh, hey, Oscar,” she replied, her tone casual, as if he were just another guest at the party.

It stung, more than he cared to admit. “What’s going on? Missed anything exciting?” he asked, trying to keep the conversation light.

Y/N shrugged, her attention already shifting back to Jake. “Not really. Just hanging out.”

Oscar’s heart sank. This wasn’t like her. She was usually the first to pull him into the fun, to drag him into ridiculous games or tease him about not dancing enough. But now, it felt like he was intruding, like he didn’t belong.

The night went on, and the gap between them only seemed to widen. At one point, Oscar found himself standing near the bar, watching as Y/N and Jake danced together, completely absorbed in each other. It was as if the rest of the room had faded away, including him.

When they finally took a break, Oscar made his way over, hoping to at least steal a few minutes with her. “So, how’s it going with Jake?” he asked, trying to sound supportive despite the knot in his stomach.

Y/N looked at him with a small, polite smile, but there was no spark of excitement in her eyes, none of the usual fire that had always drawn him in. “It’s good. He’s great, really.”

“Yeah, he seems nice,” Oscar said, forcing the words out. “We should hang out more—like old times.”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering to Jake before she answered. “Yeah, maybe. We’ll see.”

That was it. Just a vague, noncommittal response that left Oscar feeling more isolated than ever.

The next few days were more of the same. Y/N started canceling plans, saying she was too busy or that she had already made plans with Jake. When they did hang out, she was distracted, constantly checking her phone, as if waiting for a message from Jake to pull her away again.

Oscar tried to hide his frustration, but it grew harder with each passing day. He noticed how Y/N seemed to change around Jake—she was more subdued, less like herself. The playful, confident girl he knew was replaced by someone who seemed almost… unsure. She laughed at jokes that weren’t funny, agreed with things she would usually argue against, and even started dressing differently, like she was trying to fit into some version of herself that wasn’t real.

The breaking point came when they all went out to another party, this time with a larger group. Oscar watched from a distance as Y/N and Jake mingled with people he didn’t recognize, her hand firmly in Jake’s as she introduced herself with an unfamiliar edge in her voice.

It wasn’t until someone asked how long she and Oscar had known each other that the real blow came.

“Oh, we’ve known each other for a while,” she said casually, almost dismissively, as if they weren’t best friends who had shared everything.

Oscar’s heart clenched painfully. He stood just a few feet away, and it felt like he’d been slapped in the face. A while? That was all she had to say about him? The countless nights they had spent talking until sunrise, the secrets they had shared, the times they had been there for each other through thick and thin—all reduced to “a while.”

For the rest of their time together, Oscar felt like a ghost, present but unseen, and the realization that Y/N barely noticed was what hurt the most. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep pretending that everything was fine when it was far from it. He couldn’t stand it any longer. “I’m heading out,” he muttered to no one in particular, but Y/N didn’t even notice as he slipped out the door.

Later that night, Y/N texted him, asking if he got home okay. There was no apology, no acknowledgment of how she had brushed him aside. Just a casual check-in that felt more like an afterthought.

Oscar stared at the message, feeling a deep sadness settle in his chest. He had always known that Y/N was special to him, that she held a place in his heart no one else could ever fill. But now, he was starting to realize that she didn’t see him the same way—not anymore.

Maybe she never did, he thought bitterly, tossing his phone aside and sinking into bed, the weight of her neglect pressing down on him like a lead blanket. Maybe I’ve just been fooling myself this whole time.

end of flashback

And Oscar… he was hurting.

One evening, Y/N burst into Oscar's apartment with her usual energy. “Osc, you won’t believe it! We’re going on another date tonight—he’s taking me to this really cute café downtown!” Her voice was full of excitement, but Oscar barely heard her.

He was curled up on the couch, a familiar spot that once felt warm with her presence now felt cold and empty.

“That’s great,” he mumbled, his voice lacking its usual enthusiasm.

She frowned, finally noticing the difference. “What’s wrong? You’ve been weird lately.”

Oscar wanted to say it. He wanted to shout that he was tired of being pushed aside, tired of being the second choice. But instead, he just shook his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Y/N wasn’t convinced. She moved closer, sitting beside him. “Oscar, talk to me. Please.”

Oscar looked at her, really looked at her, and felt his heart shatter a little more. He was losing her, and the worst part was that she didn’t even realize it. “I miss you,” he finally admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Y/N blinked, surprised. “I’m right here, O.”

“No, you’re not,” he replied, his tone sharper now. “You’ve been so wrapped up in your new relationship that I’ve barely seen you. You’re always with him, talking about him. And I… I’m just here, waiting for you to remember me.”

She frowned, her face softening as she reached out to touch his hand, but he pulled away. “Oscar, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize—”

“Of course you didn’t,” he interrupted, his frustration boiling over. “You didn’t realize because you’re happy, and I’m just… I’m just the friend who’ll always be there, right? The one you can ignore until you need him.”

Her eyes widened, hurt flashing across her face. “That’s not true, Oscar. You know you mean everything to me.”

“Do I?” he challenged, standing up and pacing the room. “Because it doesn’t feel like it, Y/N. It feels like I’m losing you, and it’s killing me.”

The air between them grew thick with tension, the kind that had never existed before. Y/N stood up too, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to reach out to him again. “Oscar, please don’t do this. I don’t want to lose you.”

“Then why does it feel like you’ve already left me?” he snapped, his voice breaking. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to keep his emotions in check but failing miserably. “You don’t get it, Y/N. You have no idea how much this hurts.”

“Then tell me!” she cried, her voice cracking with desperation. “Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it!”

Oscar froze, the words caught in his throat. This was it. This was the moment he could tell her everything, but he couldn’t find the courage. Instead, he just shook his head, his eyes filled with unshed tears. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Oscar, please don’t say that,” she whispered, stepping closer to him, but he stepped back, creating a distance between them that felt like miles.

“I love you,” he blurted out, his voice trembling. “I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ve tried to bury it, to just be your friend, but I can’t anymore. I can’t stand watching you with someone else. It’s killing me, Y/N.”

Her breath hitched, her eyes wide with shock. “Oscar… I… I didn’t know.”

“Of course, you didn’t,” he said bitterly, wiping away a tear that had escaped. “You didn’t know because I never told you. But now… now it’s too late. You’re with him, and I’m just… I’m nothing.”

Oscar’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as he stared at Y/N, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had tried to hold it in for so long, but the weight of her neglect was too much to bear, and now, it was all spilling out.

“You know, Y/N, I get that you’re excited about Jake. I really do. But do you even realize what you’ve been doing? Or should I say, what you haven’t been doing?” His voice was laced with bitterness, the words cutting through the air like a blade.

Y/N blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “Oscar, what are you talking about? I’ve just been—”

“No, don’t,” he cut her off sharply, shaking his head. “Don’t you dare try to brush this off like it’s nothing. You’ve been so wrapped up in your new relationship that you’ve completely forgotten about me. About us. Do you even remember the last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t interrupted by you checking your phone? Or the last time we made plans that you didn’t cancel for Jake?”

Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She was struggling to process the raw emotion pouring out of him.

Oscar continued, his voice rising as the frustration he had been holding back for weeks finally broke free. “I’ve been your best friend for how long now? I’ve always been there for you, always. But ever since you started dating him, it’s like I don’t even exist anymore. You barely text me back, you cancel on me all the time, and when we do hang out, it’s like you’re not even here.”

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on hers, pleading for her to understand. “Do you have any idea how that feels? To go from being someone’s everything to feeling like you’re just… nothing? Like you’re just a placeholder until something better comes along?”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but Oscar was too caught up in his own pain to notice. “I get that things change when you start dating someone, but you didn’t just change—you fucking disappeared. And I’m left here, trying to figure out where the hell my best friend went. The person I could always count on, who knew me better than anyone… she’s gone.”

His voice cracked, the anger giving way to the deep hurt he had been carrying. “And you know what’s worse? I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. But I was too scared to say anything because I didn’t want to mess things up. I didn’t want to lose you. But now… it feels like I’ve lost you anyway.”

Y/N’s breath hitched as she took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. She had never seen Oscar like this, so raw and vulnerable, and it terrified her.

“I tried to be happy for you,” Oscar continued, his voice quieter now, filled with a deep sadness. “I tried to convince myself that I could just be your friend and that would be enough. But it’s not enough, Y/N. Not when you treat me like I’m nothing.”

He looked away, blinking back the tears that threatened to fall. “I thought I meant more to you than this. I thought we meant more. But maybe I was wrong.”

Y/N’s heart shattered at the sight of him, at the pain in his eyes. She reached out to him, desperate to hold him, to comfort him, but he pulled away again, shaking his head.

“I can’t be around you right now,” Oscar said, his voice broken. “I need time… I need to figure out how to stop loving you.”

“Oscar, please don’t go,” she begged, tears streaming down her face. “We can talk about this—”

But Oscar had already turned away, grabbing his keys and heading for the door. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I just… I can’t.”

With that, he left, leaving Y/N standing in the middle of the room, her heart aching with the weight of what had just happened. She sank to the floor, sobs wracking her body as she realized that the one person she needed most was the one she had pushed away.

And Oscar, driving aimlessly through the city, felt more alone than he ever had in his entire life, knowing that he had finally spoken his truth, but at what cost?

time skip

Y/N was left alone in the apartment, her mind reeling from everything Oscar had said. As the door slammed shut behind him, she crumpled to the floor, her chest tightening with an overwhelming sense of loss. The tears came in uncontrollable waves, each sob tearing through her as she gasped for breath.

How did I not see this? she thought, her mind racing. How could I be so blind?

She buried her face in her hands, the memories flooding back—every moment they had shared, every laugh, every hug, every time Oscar had been there for her, and she had taken it all for granted. They played like a cruel montage in her mind, the pieces finally falling into place.

I’ve always loved him, she realized, the truth hitting her like a punch to the gut. But I was too scared… too scared of losing him, of ruining everything.

She thought back to every time they had cuddled on the couch, his arms wrapped around her, making her feel safe and warm. She had always known there was something more between them, something unspoken, but she had pushed it down, terrified of what it would mean if she acknowledged it. Because if I lost Oscar… I’d lose everything.

Her phone was in her hand before she even realized it, her fingers trembling as she dialed his number. Each ring felt like an eternity, the silence on the other end growing heavier with every passing second.

Voicemail.

“Hey, this is Oscar. I'm probably driving really fast or I'm not in the mood. Anyway I’ll get back to you.”

The beep echoed in her ears, and she quickly hung up, her heart pounding as panic set in. She dialed again, desperately hoping he would pick up this time, that she could tell him everything she was feeling before it was too late. But once again, it went to voicemail.

“Oscar, please,” she whispered to herself, her voice shaking as she redialed, only to be met with the same message. Each time the voicemail beeped, she hung up, feeling the hope drain out of her.

Finally, after the fifth failed attempt, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. The voicemail beeped, and she began to speak, her voice thick with tears.

“Oscar, it’s me. Please, please, just listen to this… I—I’m so sorry,” she started, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry I didn’t see it, sorry I didn’t realize how much I was hurting you. I’ve been so selfish, so blind, and I didn’t even notice what I was doing to you.”

She paused, trying to steady her breathing, but the tears kept coming. “I… I’m terrified, Oscar. I’ve always been terrified of losing you, of messing this up, of losing the best thing in my life. And that’s why I never… I never let myself feel what I was feeling. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t there, we could stay the same forever.”

Her voice cracked as she continued, the words tumbling out in a desperate rush. “But I do love you, Oscar. I love you so much it hurts. And the thought of losing you… of you walking out of my life… I can’t bear it. I was so scared that if I admitted how I felt, everything would change, and I’d lose you forever. But now I realize… I was losing you anyway.”

She choked on a sob, pressing a hand to her mouth as she tried to hold herself together. “Please, Oscar, don’t shut me out. I know I messed up, I know I hurt you, but I need you to know that you mean everything to me. You always have. And I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, that I didn’t see it until now.”

Y/N wiped at her tears, her voice trembling as she spoke the final words. “Please, Oscar, don’t walk away. I love you… I love you so much, and I’m begging you to give me a chance to make this right. Please… please don’t leave me.”

The message ended, the silence that followed felt deafening. Y/N let the phone slip from her hand, her body shaking with sobs as she curled up on the floor, consumed by the fear that it might be too late, that she might have lost him for good.

Please, Oscar, come back to me.

time skip

Oscar sat on a bench near the parking lot, his car parked a few meters away. The night was quiet, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. His heart felt heavy, his mind spinning with everything that had just happened. He didn’t know where to go, or what to do, so he just sat there, staring blankly into the distance, replaying their fight over and over again in his mind.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, breaking through his thoughts. He pulled it out, seeing Y/N’s name flash on the screen with a voicemail notification. His thumb hovered over the play button for a moment, hesitant. Part of him didn’t want to hear what she had to say, afraid it would only hurt him more. But another part, the part that had loved her for so long, needed to know.

With a deep breath, he pressed play.

As Y/N’s voice filled the air, raw with emotion and thick with tears, Oscar’s heart clenched. Each word she spoke was like a dagger, cutting deeper into the hurt he was already feeling, but there was something else too—something that made his breath catch in his throat.

“I… I’m terrified, Oscar. I’ve always been terrified of losing you, of messing this up, of losing the best thing in my life. And that’s why I never… I never let myself feel what I was feeling. I thought if I pretended it wasn’t there, we could stay the same forever.”

He closed his eyes, letting her words wash over him. He could hear the desperation in her voice, the regret, the love she had been too scared to admit. It mirrored everything he had felt for so long, everything he had been too afraid to say.

Tears stung at the corners of his eyes as the message continued, her confession unfolding in a way he had never imagined but had always longed for. The voicemail ended with her pleading, the words echoing in his mind, “Please, Oscar, don’t walk away. I love you… I love you so much, and I’m begging you to give me a chance to make this right. Please… please don’t leave me.”

He sat there, stunned, the silence that followed almost unbearable. He played the message again, needing to hear it one more time to believe it was real. As Y/N’s voice replayed, full of vulnerability and love, something shifted inside him. The anger he had felt earlier began to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching love that had never gone away.

Just as the message ended for the second time, Oscar became aware of a presence behind him. He turned around slowly and saw Y/N standing a few feet away, her face pale and tear-streaked, her eyes wide with uncertainty. She must have found him while he was listening to the voicemail, and now she stood there, silent, waiting.

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The weight of the situation hung between them, both of them trying to process what had just happened. Finally, Oscar broke the silence, his voice soft and tentative.

“You… you really mean that?” he asked, his gaze locking onto hers, searching for any sign that this was all some kind of cruel joke.

Y/N nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “Every word, Oscar. I mean it. I’ve been so scared of ruining what we had that I didn’t realize I was ruining it by pushing you away. But I do love you. I’ve loved you for so long, and I’m so, so sorry it took me this long to realize it.”

Oscar stood up, taking a hesitant step toward her. “I didn’t want to lose you either,” he admitted, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought if I kept my feelings to myself, we could just keep going the way we were. But it was killing me, Y/N. Watching you with Jake… it felt like I was losing you, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

Y/N took a shaky breath, stepping closer until they were just inches apart. “You were never going to lose me, Oscar. You’re my best friend, and you always will be. But… I want more than that. I need more than that. I love you, and I want to be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Oscar’s eyes softened, the pain of the past weeks slowly fading as he looked at her, really looked at her, and saw everything he had ever wanted. “Of course I’ll have you,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve wanted that for so long, Y/N. I love you too, more than anything. I just… I didn’t think you felt the same.”

She smiled through her tears, reaching out to take his hand. “I do, Oscar. I’m sorry it took me so long to see it, to admit it. But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

Oscar pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if he was afraid she might slip away if he let go. “I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered into her hair, his voice filled with relief and love.

“You won’t,” Y/N whispered back, burying her face in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere, Oscar. I’m right here, and I’m not letting you go.”

They stood there in the quiet night, wrapped in each other’s arms, the weight of unspoken words finally lifted. It wasn’t going to be easy, but they had each other, and that was all that mattered. In that moment, they both knew they had found something worth fighting for, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally see it.

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suguru-getos · 13 days ago

Text

Yeah my boyfriend’s pretty cool, but he’s not as cool as me — K. Bakugou x f!Reader

Summary: You, a top model meet pro hero Dynamight on your Victoria's Secret fashion show. You didn't know how easily you both could cling like magnets. Maybe you found your soulmate, why else does it seem so easy? So loving? So ethereal? A/N: I missed writing my Jerk (Bakugou) so here I go. The character is giving off Y/N from Wattpad almost (KEKEKEK) :3 What! Sue me! Also brb gonna take a bath in holy water after this. Not beta'd take the typos like a pro ;) also this is probably my longest fic IN A WHILE and that's saying something!!! Warnings: N!pple play, F!ingering, S3x(P in V), missionary, doggy-style, squ!rting, breed!ng, dirty talk, spank!ngs. Let me know if I missed anything. :3 Oh and TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF

You sucked in a breath when you heard the announcements go off, the announcer urging the models to get done with their hair & makeup fast. It wasn’t like any other show, honestly. It was the Victoria’s Secret show. The internet alone can swamp any and every other news when this ‘phenomenon’ occurs. You have been on a strict diet of salads, high pilates & cardio, and for the past two days — dehydration to show your abs more. Being a successful model is all about making it look effortless even if it’s all graft, tenacity & utterless devotion. No career is easy at the end of the day after all.

“Y/n, are you okay? The show is about to start.” Your manager, also the manager of this event comes up to you, long, poised strides in her red bottom pencil heels. She’s wearing a satin, well-tailored coat and a skirt. “Can’t wait to munch on a fucking burger and drink a gallon of cold soda.” You smirk, your eye makeup was completed, the final touches of the makeup setting spray was splayed on by the makeup artist tending to you.

“You look gorgeous, Y/n.” He commented, voice feminine & fashion sense incredible. He was gay, and one of your best friends in the industry. “Man, so many people would be here in the show.” You snorted, “who’s coming to sing?” Your curiosity is piqued. There is always a star who comes in and makes sure the runway ends up a much better experience.

“It’s Jungkook.” Your manager responds curtly.

“Fuckin’ hell they literally bagged Jungkook?” You scoffed almost, ah— shit. Jungkook has a massive following, of course they would. Even if he’s your ex boyfriend. Of course they fucking would. You pursed your lips, your relationship with him was entirely kept a secret. He’s an idol, worshipped infact— and that ended up for the best when you parted ways. The NDA was perfect. Though you often wondered if the glamour you chose for yourself would ever allow you a fair chance at getting the right partner.

“Eh, Jungkook’s not my type.” Your bestie, the makeup artist Samuel hums, his shoulders shrugging up. “I got my eyes on the heroes.” He winks, adjusting the last finished strands of your hair. The heroes…

“I don’t understand why the heroes are invited to stuff like these.” You roll your eyes. It is weird to think about. He chuffs, “oh come on— they’re just as big of celebrities & events like these are all about glamour and showing off.” He snorts, “Dynamight’s coming, Star and Stripes is coming, a lot of the heroes who are under the top three would be here. Gahh I wonder how Dynamight looks in a suit… dude’s fucking jacked. I’m drooling just thinking about it.”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Okay okay, drooling dog. Leave me alone and let me calm my tits before the walk begins.”

Dynamight huh, Katsuki Bakugou. The number one hero of Japan. He is popular enough, you have seen him bag the Calvin Klein’s Times Square ad. Your fingers itched towards your phone, searching up Dynamight on Instagram. There were two accounts. One of them was the official hero account, named Dynamight. The other was— seemingly his personal account, it was named BakugouKatsuki. Both of them were public though. Ah, you will stalk him later. Now isn’t the best time.

You get up, itching in your feet into the pencil heels and stretching your body. Amidst the ruckus, you were given your Victoria’s Secret wings, and your lingerie set. It was beautiful, you’d give them that. They do end up spending and extravagant amount of money for this after all. “Phew, I’m ready.”

There were other models lined up before you, you had been the show-stopper. It’s flamingly obvious not to think much about yourself, but you’d give yourself credit for being one of the top models in the entire industry. You also have a whooping Instagram following, and your socials are always stacked with brand deals. Jungkook was singing Seven, a safe version. You don't want to be delusional and think he chose that song because he wrote it for you, nah, you and him are over for good. Besides, he was in a parasocial relationship with his fans. That's just not your vibe.

You exhaled, engaging your core and coming out finally. It was your turn to go in and leave the crowd in absolute awe. Your time to shine! Yeah, your time to shine. No matter how many shows you have participated in, the feeling before the runway is second to none. You stepped out, peppering flying kisses to the crowd as you passed by Jungkook, catwalking.

You didn't think the first person your eyes would meet would be Bakugou himself, it was eye contact that lasted a few seconds, as you turned around and walked back inside, coming out with the fashion designer and clapping.

"What was that Bakubro?" Red Riot was sitting beside his high school best friend, smirking when he noticed Katsuki caught red-handed. "Didn't you say you have no interest in watching models and this was a waste of time?" He snickers, pulling Katsuki's leg.

Katsuki.... on the other hand, was mesmerized. He had never seen someone so beautiful. Honestly, he wasn't one to keep up with the models and the glamour the industry had to offer. He had a simple routine, focus on training, go patrolling, partake in brand deals, and sleep by 9 pm. This seemed different, especially when the eye contact you both had was so magnetic. What the fuck was happening to him he wondered... why was he behaving like a high school student all over again. Dynamight was in his late twenties now. It's not to say that he hasn't dated people at all, he has, in fact, he has a fair share of girlfriends too. He just wasn't expecting you to latch onto his heart & rip it out of his chest (respectfully).

Maybe he dan divert his mind until after the show. The Victoria's Secret brand had dealings with the Bulgari Hotel in Milan. (Where the show was held), of course, your and Katsuki's suites would be on the same floor. The show was a huge success, you knew it the moment you walked back inside and got jump-hugged by the entire team. They loved your walk, and it made you grin like an appreciated child.

"Finally I can binge." You snickered, getting out after thirty minutes or so from the show. In your head, the eye-contact with the ruby-eyed man was nothing much, merely a coincidence perhaps. You don't know much about Bakugou Katsuki anyway. You do tell your gay best friend about it though, chuckling & giggling at how he loses his mind over it. "I think Dynamight will stay in the same hotel as mine, but before leaving, I can secure an autograph for you if you'd like."

"YOU'D DO THAT?" Samuel is on top of the world when he hears your offer. How nice and kind of you. "I could do that of course!" You smile, he has been great and helpful in calming your nerves before your show. You can do that for him without thinking twice. "Great, thank you so much Y/N! You are a literal gem." He whines, kicking feet in excitement. "Dynamight's known for being intimidating and a no-bullshit guy, so just be...careful." He smiled. You raised a brow at the description, chuckling. Whatever, it's just an autograph. You were sure Samuel was just fangirling.

You walked towards Bakugou and his friend Red Riot, wearing a plain white tee shirt and some shorts. A Prada handbag over your shoulder, Cartier bracelet set on your left arm, and some boots just so you look fine in case you get accidentally papped. "Uh oh, Hottie alert, Hottie alert. She's coming this way Bakugou." Kirishima warns, while Katsuki doesn't turn, smirking. "Maybe she's into you just as much huh?" "Shut up, Kiri. I'm not even into her." What a lie, what a damned lie, because when you tap his shoulder, his entire body shudders.

"Hey- Dynamight, hi!" You smile, watching him turn to face you. Geez, he's tall and big, the blonde doesn't make him look any less intimidating. He has a scar on his eye but it only accentuates his gruff and masculine look. You swallow, "Hey there." Katsuki raises a brow, smirking at you. "Y/N right? The fabulous show stopper." He praises, and you can't help but blush a little.

"Hehe, yeah, thank you so much." You gently tussle through your bag, taking out a notepad. "Can I please get an autograph?" You smile, you wouldn't be one of those cunts who would outrightly say that it's not for you. Why do you need to specify explicitly anyway? "Aww, she's a fan?" Katsuki grins, taking the notepad from you. "Haha!" You don't respond. You don't want to ruin the vibe of the interaction. Unlucky for you, Bakugou is a pest. "So should I write Y/N, or ShowStopper Y/N?" He smirked, uh oh... "You can make two?" You raised a brow, smiling softly. "One for me and one for Samuel, my makeup artist." You smile. "Sure can." He writes the autograph, smirking, "You didn't want an autograph did ya?" Ouch, how did he catch you red-handed so easily? "Hm? Why do you feel so?" You raise a brow, taking the notepad from him. "I'm the number one hero of Japan, Sweetheart. I got my own tricks up my sleeve." He smirked, oh what a charming guy. You wonder why is he infamous for being intimidating then... maybe just his personality and his looks. "I don't mind getting one, honestly, who knows I might become a fan in the future." You smiled back. "Oh yeah? That's gonna make me real fuckin' proud of yer taste, Sweetheart." He grins, and Kirishima has long excused Bakugou and you to chitchat alone.

You chuckled, oh my, he was cocky and yet charming enough to pull it off. Meanwhile, all Bakugou thought was how your eyes are so pretty, and you smile so easily it should be illegal. Your smile makes even the crankiest of people smile. Him included.

"Whatcha doin' after this?" He asks you, raising a brow. Please be free, please be free. "Ah- it's just, my own ritual of unwinding after fashion shows to go and binge on junk food. I am going to this amazing pizza place." You smile, and Bakugou notices your body, you are stunning, but it's clear you need to maintain unrealistic standards for this. "Mind if I join?" He confidently asks, Bakugou Katsuki's confidence ever since he was a child was sky high. He doesn't mind chasing what he wants, he doesn't mind latching on to what he wants. He doesn't mind putting in the work for what he wants. Whether it's the number one hero ranking, or his new ambition - You.

"You can." You perk up, of course, you don't mind that. You wonder if he's asking you on a date or just hanging out with you. "Alright then, let's go?" You ask him again, truth be told you were starving. You need a lot of water down your stomach and also, food. "Lead the way Kitten."

You blink at the nickname, Kitten? "Kitten?" You snorted, why? "Yeah, cus you walk the show like a little lion cub," he smirked, quite assertive behind his reasoning. It makes your heart flutter. "I, see... interesting. Is it something you do? Give people you like, nicknames?" "Yeah, it's a me thing," Katsuki smirked, he loved how you sneakily asked him whether he likes you or not. "I do that to people I hate too though." He teased, biting his lip and smirking at the confused pout. "Not you though, I like ya." He admits upfront. Katsuki doesn't want to play games. It's either he doesn't give a shit, or he's into it dedicatedly.

You gnaw at your lip, walking ahead of him, thank god your back is turned towards him. Else you'd be embarrassed of just how easily he can sway you off your feet. You and him get into the car after, driving to the nearest pizza place. Your knees touch during the car ride, fuck why are you thinking about the slightest of touches Jesus! Neither of you avoid the touch though. "So I'm guessing the pre-walk schedule is pretty ass, huh?" You like that he wants to know about you in a 'I want to get to know you better' sense and not in a 'I want to hook up and leave you after' sense. "Yeah, the last four days I have been dehydrated. I can enjoy in peace now though, before the next show." You nod, looking at him in the eyes, evaluating his expressions. Bakugou looks, conflicted. On one hand, he admires this, on the other hand, he's pissed that this is what gets imposed. He clicks his tongue, "If I were to organize a damn show I'd make sure none of the dehydration shit happens, tch." You chuckle at how intensely he feels about it. It makes you feel validated, makes you feel seen and heard. "Yeah? Maybe you can organize one for your merch." You winked.

"Fuckin' Brilliant aren'tcha?" Katsuki exclaims, grinning wide. He would, and you'd be the show stopper, and it would be a statement towards normalizing human bodies. It sounds so perfect in his head, he would definitely bother his Assistant about this later.

When you both reached the Pizza place, Bakugou gets your door, smirking when you are almost shocked by it. "What? The least ya can do is expect a Hero to be chivalrous, ye?" You giggle, holding his hand, noticing the sheer difference in your hands versus his. Your hands are soft, meek, delicate, having their own hand care routine. His hands are smooth, a little moist due to sweat which you think doesn't bother him. It doesn't bother you either honestly. Plus, he smells amazing... almost in a way that could make you dizzy from it all.

"Um, what should I call you? Dynamight? Bakugou? Katsuki? Japanese people prefer to be called by their last name until they explicitly give permission, no?" You have done a few shows in Japan and know a thing or two about their culture. Bakugou only smirks harder, holding your hand & caressing it with the pad of his thumb, he leans it up to show you. "If I'm holdin' yer hand, I'd prefer to be called Katsuki, Sweetheart." "Y-Yeah, right." You are flustered. The way he looks at you is so intense and yet calming. This man is almost paradoxical.

You both get inside, taking one of the cozy booths of the restaurant. The vibe of the place is luxurious, Grenadil, African Blackwood, lamps which are delicately hand-carved. The place speaks Old-Money.

Bakugou takes a seat next to you, handing you the laminated menu with exquisite handwritten Calligraphy, "There ya go." He smirks. You notice the menu he has given you has no prices on the dishes. He has his own menu. "Uh, they have no money imprinted, are you sure this menu is okay?" This is your first time seeing this. "Yeah, s' okay. S' cus y'er not supposed to be worrying about the price of the dishes." He says it rather assertively. "The man should." He shows his menu. Oh- Of course, for a place this extra, they would have some new ritual like this for all the trophy-wives. "Katsuki- no- I'd feel guilty." You pouted. "Yeah? Yer gonna feel guilty for it bein' my job to spoil ya? On a date? Our first date?" All of a sudden, every doubt in your mind is faded. Things were escalating so quickly yet, you feel like you know this man for years, how bizarre, how comforting, how amazing! The way your heart breaks into little palpitations of excitement is second to none.

You looked down, a hue of red creeping into your cheeks. ''Gah would ya look at that!" Bakugou points at your flustered expression instantly. "She's the prettiest baddest Queen in this world, and I got her feelin' cutesy and feminine, ye?" Yes, yes it has... it's always the little things after all. You chuckle, looking up at him, extending your hand over the table so he could hold it. "You smell amazing, Katsuki." You compliment him too.

Honestly, you have never felt someone smelling this amazing as Bakugou. "Yeah? Part of my charm." He croons in his gravelly voice, the tip of his tongue brushing his upper teeth in a mischievous grin. "S' a part of my quirk." He admits, leaning back and manspreading a little. Your heart feels like it would jump out of your chest at that, you swallow the thick lump of saliva. "Yeah?" "Yeah, that's right Sweetheart." Bakugou hums again, kissing your knuckle. "What about you, have any quirks?" "Unfortunately, nope." You chuckle, a little embarrassed. You know if this man is the number one hero of Japan, he must have a formidable quirk after all. "Aw, she's my little quirkless rarity gem ain't she?" "Yeah."

Katsuki's words were healing something within you that you didn't know was broken. You were feeling all sorts of things, slightly aghast at how easily your senses feel dizzy around the true embodiment of masculinity. A little merry on how you don't have to think about anything and let him take care of you. You needed this after the tough show you've had. You ordered a pizza, and some drinks with it. "So, what next?" You don't want to get too ahead of yourself either. Maybe all this could fade the moment you both sleep together.

"Next, we go on another date, then another, then another. In between those dates, I'll steal a kiss or two." He grins. Making you chuckle, how old school... "That's all you will steal?" You ask him, quite upfront on your own this time. "Mm~ I can't be too greedy or I might make a certain Kitten uncomfortable." He winks.

"Would I make a certain hero uncomfortable if I stole more than a kiss?" You smirk, watching Bakugou grin in surprise. "Nah, the hero wants what his Princess wants." He admits shamelessly.

The dinner goes by in a haze, Bakugou asks you about your family, how many people are there in your nuclear family, you ask him, a little bit of what and hows about starting a career. You get to know he's a Taurus, and his MBTI Type is ENTJ, his Enneagram is 8w7. No wonder he is so steadfast and determined. The dinner ended with you two getting back to go to the same hotel, walking and chit-chatting through your lives, how a daily routine in your lives looks like, favourite coffee order, favourite animals, favourite bands, favourite brands, favourite foods.... until Bakugou was in front of your suite.

"Uhm, goodnight Katsuki." You smile, getting on your tippy toes and kissing his lips softly. A burning sensation ripples through your nerves instantly. Oh no- now you can't stop. Now he can't stop. There is an unsaid desperation in the way you & him deepen the kiss, a relief washing over you as the suite's door gets unlocked with a beeping sound of your card against the sensor.

You jump on him immediately, cupping his face, scratching his undercut, rabid pants echoing through the room as you lean back to catch a breath. "Wildin' aren't we?" Bakugou smirked, leaning you against the wall with his hand supporting the back of your head as he kissed you more, fuck you have awakened something carnal within him. "Yeah- yeah-" You manage to choke on your breaths as he dives against your neck, nibbling at the supple skin, licking the tender ache. "Katsuki- please-" You want more. Especially now when you can feel his semi nudged against your heat. You want it so bad, you didn't even know him a few hours ago... and now here you were.

"Yeah? Are ya sure?" He asks, seriously. He doesn't need this to be hurried. "Yeah, I'm sure."

And that was all Bakugou needed, his lips smashing against you once more, tongue exploring your mouth, colliding against yours, his mouth wrapping around your tongue and suckling nastily. Katsuki leans back, a string of saliva connecting your lips and his. He supports you by your booty, hands kneading the area on your clothed shorts as he manspreads on the couch, watching how you straddle him. You take off your shirt on your own, and unhook your tee shirt bra next. Before you can switch to your shorts, Katsuki removes his own shirt. Oh my god-

He is jacked, and there are battle scars all over his body. Your hand leans in, absentmindedly tracing one of them. You could only imagine how dangerous it must be, how dangerous his line of work is. Everyday he keeps his life on the line to protect people like you - to protect those who can't fend for themselves. Your eyes softened, and Bakugou notices you lean into the duvet of your thoughts. "Hey, they're from years ago." He smirked, kissing your cheek. "Literal years, when I was Baby Dynamight." He chuckled, lightening up your mood instantly. He leans in, hands kneading and groping at your now perky breasts and tits. "She's fuckin' stunning god damn." He cusses under his breath, eagerly wrapping his tongue around one of the nipples, while his fingers pinched and played around with the other. The sensation sends waves of pleasure down your core, it aches so deliciously good. You lean your head back, gasping out at the welcomed assault on your body. This was beyond perfect. "Katsuki-" You mumbled, just chanting his name as he switches to the other nipple, his hand caressing your sides, knuckles caressing the temples of your cheek. "Mhm~ so perfect, Princess."

Every action only makes you dive deeper into a space you've never dived on before. His fingers skilfully unbutton your shorts next, peeling off your panties. "Let's check what's the situation." He smirks, though his ruby eyes are steeled on your face. Massive hands cupping your bare pussy, you can feel your essence coat his palm, but you're not shy anymore. You want him to know he does this to you. You want him to be aware of the effect he has on you. "Fuckin' soaking." He smirked, middle finger and ring finger parting your entrance while his middle finger nudged against your tight hole. The tip pierces inside your pussy almost instantly. "Oh perfect little thing." He snickers, curling it just the right way to make your eyes roll back. "Yeah baby, keep makin' that pretty face f'me." He groans, leaning in and latching onto your sensitive tits again. "Not sorry bout it in the least, need to mark ya." He groans, suckling against your skin, marking your breasts in hickeys while he drills his finger inside your cunt. The pleasure has you reeling soon, eyes rolling back. "Katsuki- please-" you buck your hips against him helplessly, pussy twitching and fluttering shamelessly. "Yeah baby? Gonna cum?" He croons, smirking at the way your body gets littered in goosebumps. "Mhm~ Yeah." You nodded like a bobble head, the pleasure reaching new heights. "Gonna make a mess on Daddy's fingers?" he asks again, almost edging you. The new nickname has you clamping tightly as a reaction, Bakugou chuckles. "Then cum."

Your entire body shivers at the assault, his thumb finding it's way to your clit, rubbing in rhythmic circles around the bundle of nerves, watching you tweak and tremble. "Atta girl! Good job little one." He smirked, quickly changing your position to laying on the couch with him hovering over you. His hand never leaves your clit, pulling out a long and tiring orgasm as his massive cock greets you. Before you could say anything before you could protest in whines that his massive, veiny cock could never fit inside you. It could break you- his cock fills you up instantly.

You see white, your senses are torn apart. The pain surges through your body like venom, filled with excruciating amounts of pleasure. You scream out, cunt almost ripped open despite being so wet and so lubed. "Kah- AH- t'suki-" You are broken, this is exactly how you expected it to feel like. Still, you want him to move, you want him to make you feel better. You want him to show you how it feels when he's pistoning this inside and out, when he's ruining your insides his shape.

Bakugou leans in, caressing your face and peppering it with soft kisses. "Yeah Princess, you did it." He praises, and you couldn't help but rut your hips against him at the praise. You need him. "Uh huh? Wan' Daddy to take care of you?" He smirked at that, relishing your shameless movements, his cock jams against your pussy, fervour akin to an animal in a rut. You feel so good he can't help but want more either, thrusts powerful enough to cause your breasts to jiggle from the impact. "Atta girl, look at you, taking me like yer made for me." he groans, watching your fucked out expressions, listening to your melodious cries that only make him push you further. "Kah- Mm!"

His hand caresses your clit, pinching at the sensitive bundle of nerves, tap-slapping it, caressing it, playing with it. Every movement sends you reeling towards the peak of pleasure. It's not too long before you feel like cumming again, a familiar knot building in your pelvis, eager to snap. "Gonna fill ya up, yeah? Need your insides to know who knocked em up' need yer pussy to know who fucked her up, who stretched her up, who ripped her up to his shape-" The way he speaks is making you spiral, your mouth falls agape as another orgasm tears through you. Helplessly wailing and letting your pussy flutter around his muscular and veiny cock. His own release comes with it, hot and thick seed painting your insides his.

You're panting like you've just run a marathon, Bakugou's sweat only making your senses hazy with its sweet, caramel scent.

"Got one more in ya?" Bakugou asks with a smirk, watching your eyes widen. You are thinking, you are contemplating. "N-never did it before." You answered honestly. "Good, then it's my princess' first time." He smirked, manhandling you to bend over the couch's arm rest, letting your legs nudge together. "Get on yer tippy toes Kitten." he kneads at your ass, spanking it once just to test the waters.

The whore-ish moan that comes out of your mouth at that only makes him more amazed. "She likes spankings huh?" He smirks, slapping on the other side and watching his hand print cover almost your whole ass cheek. "Fuck-" He hissed at the sight, watching you get on your tippy toes as he pierces your cum-dripping pussy once again. Your stomach is already pressed by the arm-rest. The position is enough to make you see stars, you can't form words. Just mewling and moaning with mouth open. His thrusts are a lot precise, a lot sharper, a lot more calculated and a lot more rough.

The force of his pelvis colliding against your ass feels like spankings in itself, your womb is crying at the feeling, your cunt squelching and making lewd noises that echo like music to his ears, just perfectly entwined with your loud moans. "Fuck- you are bloody gonna have me addicted to this shit." He groans, sounds of pap- pap- paps filling the room.

You feel weird, you feel like you could pee from the pressure alone. "Katsuki- feel like gonna squirt." You whine, embarrassed. "Aw, it's okay, do it." He hums, hand wrapping around your hair and tilting your head back for a passionate kiss.

And so you let go, you don't have any choice anyway with his thrusts ripping your pussy. "Fuck- fuck-" and so you end up squirting, the liquid dripping down your thighs as you cum your brains out. Katsuki tips off the edge at the sight too, oh what a lovely mess indeed. "Oh that's fuckin' incredible" He chuckles, slowing his thrusts to a stop.

You are floating in subspace already. You can't believe the hero you were going to stalk on Instagram has your insides bred, twice. Katsuki carries you princess-way and takes you to the bedroom, "gonna get ya some water, you were so amazin' holy shit Princess." he chuckles, peppering your face with soft, feather-like kisses. You only hum and groan in response, he literally fucked your brain into mush.

He returned with some water and added electrolytes that he found in the fridge to ensure better hydration. "Come on, champ, c'mere." He cradles you on his lap like a baby - his baby to be precise. He held the glass for you, letting you drink from the straw while his other hand is busy petting your body soothingly, your arms, your hair, your back.

"Do you want to sign an NDA? If we're gonna be a thing?" You asked him, genuinely curious, but it upsets him that this is the first thing that you say. This industry really is disgusting. "Nah, I'd like you to sign an NBA."

You raised a brow, what does that mean? "Mm?"

"Non-Breakup Agreement" He chuckled, watching you giggle too as he leaned in and kissed your lips.

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purinfelix · 6 days ago

Text

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

#franco colapinto #franco colapinto x reader #franco colapinto x you #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto fanfic #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto oneshot #williams racing #williams f1 #formula one fanfic #formula one x reader #formula one fluff #formula one #purinfelix #jet writes ★

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samubytheocean · 4 months ago

Text

that thin line of making out

You want it, you’re pretty sure he wants it too. So what do you do when nobody has the courage to make the next move?

Suggestive fluff, maybe smut

His hands are gripping your shirt, so tight just enough for it to wrinkle and ride up your soft skin. It’s funny, because at the same time he is laying down facing you, with this some wall between. But his tongue feels so desperate, and that thin line of sanity you can feel it on his lips. It’s been how long? Hours? You don’t even know. There’s chills along with spit running down your jaw of constant making out. Correction; just. making out.

The feeling of numb lips, an unfamiliar feeling, shoots down into your spine. The fact that you can now recognize his heavy breathing- for it’s basically yours at this point- makes the warmth between your legs pool, and you’re just praying that it’s not seeping through your shorts. He hasn’t even touched away from your shoulders yet.

Your hands are gripping his face, and you can feel every vibration from his throat on your fingertips. Soft hitches of groans escaping into your mouth, it seems to echo back to his, however hard you’re even to keep it down. There’s sweat all over- shit, it might be the spit, you don’t know- and the room feels so hot it’s dizzying. You carefully experiment your fingers- tiptoeing down to his neck, hoping your slow movements won’t give away what you’re thinking.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re so content in this moment, feeling him all around you. Your hands are glued where they are, and you’re holding onto your sanity for dear life, not even knowing why you’re holding back in the first place. In all honesty, you’re sure he feels the same. If you grabbed off his shirt, you know he would be thanking you. The burning twitching in his thighs, every time you bite his plump lips, bucks into yours messily.

You’re curious. The thick layers of sweatpants- something you’ve never even considered before- limits the warmth, and the hardness to be felt from your thighs, where all your senses seem to be focused on. The realization of it- that the fabric is limiting you from him, a part of him that you’ve never explored before, makes your face burn. Yeah there’s no doubt about you wanting to go further. But something in you stops you, as it does him. Shit, you never knew being so similar to each other could make this so frustrating.

He pulls away from you, and the feeling of him taking a shaky warm breath makes you hesitantly open your eyes. And you swear you could have devoured him right there- rolled him over and climbed right on top- by his sinfully blown eyes staring right at your puffy glossy lips. You tense up a little, and glance down to look at his, bitten all cherry red and so pretty. He looks back into your eyes, and you’re not sure what’s in that look. You’re not sure because you feel the exact same way. His eyes are begging with pure adoration and devotion, but of what? Permission? Dismissal?

At this point you wish he would just undress you, or just push you off. Anything, anything to make this situation something else. Anything else than this pure anticipation. Your hands are still on his pulse point, the skin now searing hot and drumming of adrenaline. His hands are gripping your arms, now the sleeves all ridden up and the tense skin touching- quite the courage, by your and his standards, but fuck. You wanted much more. Or a definite less. But oh, so desperately more, if only possible.

“Just so we’re on the same page here, I’m like really hard right now” he spurts out, and the random confession makes you blurt out a blushy laugh. Especially because the vocal expression of a vulgar word to you made his neck glow red. And that bulge in his pants visibly twitch. Huh, would that be the same shade?- hell, the thought makes you look away from his eyes, barely keeping your amused expression. The tension seems a little eased. You sink back into the bed, and God, it hits you that you’re so close to this handsome boy who you’ve got this crush on. And he’s so, so turned on by you. Lucky you.

“Yeah? I can tell.” you giddily whisper back, and for a second you catch the frustration seep out and a adorable mix of embarrassment and relief into his face. Cute. He’s so close, but he’s also so far away. The shallow breathing fans your face, and it smells like lemon candy, along with your chapstick. It’s a dearing combination, you make the mental note to ask about it later. His hands rise a little to fiddle with the edge of your elbows. It’s the most he can do right now, pretty much the only part of your skin that won’t bend his sanity into two. Yet the slim sweat on your arm is really testing him.

“It’s so hot in here” he breaks the silence again. You turn your head to look at him, and he shoots you a sweet puzzled face. To you it looks like a question. Almost a suggestion, a test, maybe a request. And you can’t help but very slowly blurt out, a trembling answer to your darling boy. You already know the answer. It’s almost like you’re asking this to yourself, to convince yourself that you’re in safe, loving, careful hands.

“Ca- can I take your clothes off?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he nods almost absentmindedly with the dumbest nervous smile forming on his lips. But judging from what you’ve seen under the dark lights, his pretty eager face flushing furiously, glittering mouth slightly agape and dark eyes for the tiniest second rolling back- fucking hell-

he almost came right there, in his pants. By your words only.

Yeah. You’re going to fucking devour your man.

YAMAGUCHI, LEV, YAKU, ASAHI, KUROO, OSAMU (come over babe one chance)

YUTA, YUUJI, MEGUMI

ARMINNNNN

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rcmclachlan · 1 month ago

Text

Uh-oh spaghettios, I accidentally wrote more pregnant!Buck.

In a shocking twist, the squirrelly-looking resident who's tasked with administering the spinal (and who Tommy keeps side-eyeing like he's mentally preparing himself to take her down if she makes any sudden movements) turns out to be a rockstar, because Buck doesn't even feel the pinch of the local anesthetic, never mind the actual horse needle. Even Nadine, their nurse, blinks after it's over and says, "I've been doing this for thirty-three years and I've never seen a spinal go that smoothly."

Which means the two weeks Buck devoted to reading Reddit posts about bad experiences with pre-C-section subarachnoid blocks were all for nothing. He could've done something more productive with that time instead of silently spiral. Like deep clean the bathroom or build a birdhouse.

He forgets to be mad about it the moment his legs start tingling, and from there it's only a few minutes before his body goes completely numb from the chest down. "Holy shit, that is so weird. It's just—it's a complete void. Babe, punch me."

One of the nurses is in the middle of putting a sterile blue scrub cap over Tommy's hair and stops what she's doing to stare at Buck in horror. Tommy just sighs through his surgical mask and says, "No thanks."

"You could stick your entire arm inside me and I wouldn't even know," Buck tells him, delighted, as they wheel him into the operating room. It really is like there's nothing below his sternum. "You could carry me around and work me like a muppet."

Dr. Esfahani must catch the second half of that because she starts laughing so hard she almost falls off the stool she's sitting on.

"Glad to see we've got our head in the game," she chortles. "How are you feeling, Evan?"

"I'm not!" He says cheerfully while two nurses set up the curtain across his belly. "Doc, have you ever had a spinal block?"

"Sadly, no." Dr. Esfahani's eyes curve above the edge of her mask. "And when I had my kids, their labors were so quick that I didn't have time for an epidural, either. Be grateful you'll never know what it's like to push the equivalent of a Ferrari through a keyhole unmedicated."

"Bad ass," Buck whispers, and she laughs again, then spends the next two minutes introducing everyone on the surgical team. They're all standing at the ready like a NASCAR pit crew.

Once the introductions are over, Dr. Esfahani turns her attention elsewhere. "How about you, Tommy? You ready?"

Tommy's sitting at Buck's shoulder like a particularly attentive German Shepherd, his gloved fingers trembling where they're slotted between Buck's. "I'll just be glad when she's out and Evan gets the all clear."

Months ago their OBGYN walked them through the reality and the risks of carrying to term—for whatever reason, male anatomy means there's a much higher risk of atony, which means a higher risk of hemorrhaging—and Tommy's been a nervous wreck ever since. He thinks Buck doesn't know, and to his credit he's hidden it well. Not once has he ever shown Buck anything less than bright-eyed enthusiasm and excitement about starting this next chapter of their lives, but Buck has woken up more than once in the middle of the night to find himself clutched against a rabbiting heartbeat while Tommy whispered, voice cracking in half, "Please, please, God, please..."

Buck turns his head to look up at him. He looks like what's-his-name at the very end of The Departed: goofy as shit in all the sterile wear the nurses made him put on. He even has to wear the puffy shoe covers. Between the scrub cap and the mask, his face is almost completely obscured, but all it does is highlight his eyes, which are fixed on Buck like there's no one else in the world, let alone the room.

"You look so stupid," Buck says thickly, squeezing Tommy's hand hard enough that something audibly pops. For a second, he thinks he might explode from the sheer build-up of love in his body, which would be so embarrassing, considering everyone in the room is there specifically to make sure he makes it out of here intact. "I've never been more attracted to you. Wanna make out?"

"You know I would, but I don't think they'll give us new masks," Tommy murmurs, every bit as tender and sincere as he was five months into dating, when he'd interrupted Buck's passionate defense of ocean sunfish to say, "I'm in love with you. Sorry. I just—what were you saying about swim bladders?"

"He's right," the scrub nurse says, deadpan. "We're rationing those. You take it off, you're outta here."

Buck squints at her. "I don't think no shirt, no shoes, no service rules apply."

She squints right back. "Please tell me more about the rules of this hospital, Mr. Buckley."

"Evan, stop antagonizing the very nice, very knowledgeable person holding the tray of very sharp instruments," Tommy says. The corners of his eyes are crinkled in a specific way that means it's taking all his willpower to play the rational adult and not join in on the snarkfest.

Seriously. The human body can't hold an entire baby and all this love without serious complications, right? What if they cut into him and he just starts flying around the room like an untied balloon?

"All right, all right," Dr. Esfahani says, clapping her gloved hands together. "Time to add one more child to this veritable daycare. What do you say, Evan, Tommy? Are you ready to become parents?"

The reality of the situation hits him suddenly like a second lightning strike, and he grips Tommy's hand hard as he rides the waves of excitement and terror, inhaling and exhaling through his nose to help ground himself.

He closes his eyes and thinks of Evan Buckley of nine months ago, sliding to the floor of Tommy's bathroom and weeping bitterly because the test in his hand was a death knell for the relationship he'd finally found after searching his whole life.

If he could go back in time—before Tommy got so freaked out by Buck's incoherent sobbing and the locked bathroom door that he broke it down; before Buck babbled apology after apology for his parents' negligence by not having him tested for the carrier gene, for being the one to suggest they stop using condoms in the first place, for wanting to keep it even though it meant the end of them; before Buck took the test because Chim had jokingly said earlier that day, "you've looked and acted like a wrung-out sponge all week, are you pregnant or something?" and felt like the ground was crumbling beneath his feet when the little plus sign appeared—he would take that scared, resigned man into his arms and tell him that everything was going to be okay. Better than okay, even. Everything was going to be amazing beyond his wildest dreams.

"He stays," Buck would whisper, and hold him so tight they'd start to merge. "Not because he thinks he has to, but because he wants to. He stays because he loves you and what you've made together. You're enough. Isn't that wild?"

When Buck opens his eyes, Tommy's right there, looking at him with so much love and pride in his gaze that it's palpable. Literally. She's moving around in his belly like she's doing stretches to prepare for what's about to happen. Like she's every bit as impatient as they are to finally be part of the life they're building.

"I'm not scared if you're not," Buck rasps, and tilts his head up as Tommy leans down and kisses him through the mask.

"Speak for yourself: I'm terrified. But when has that ever stopped us?" Tommy presses another kiss to his mouth like a notary affixing an official seal. "Let's get this show on the road, huh? Let's meet our kid."

An hour and change later, they lay her, clean and perfect and swaddled into a sleepy burrito wearing a little hat, on Buck's chest where she gets to hear his heartbeat from the outside for the first time.

He stares down at her, awed speechless, and thinks, oh, now I'm going to explode from love. Everyone hit the deck.

Tommy doesn't get to hold her for almost fifteen minutes because he's crying so hard that Dr. Esfahani refuses to hand her over until she's reasonably sure Tommy won't drop her.

"I think Dad needs to take pointers from you," Buck murmurs to her tenderly. She squirms a little in a way that feels like agreement before she falls asleep, already bored with existence. "Your daughter says you're totally not the cool dad."

"That's fair," Tommy sobs into Buck's scrub cap.

#the ongoing adventures of preggo!buck and his long-suffering but smitten baby daddy #bucktommy #mpreg #rc's 911 fics

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aveloka-draws · 5 months ago

Note

I'm not even that interested in boyfailure squid but

ngh

anyway.

(Pre-apology for the ramble, but you seem to enjoy these, so.)

Another ask was about how in this comic Kallaboy could've been suddenly feeling love from a mortal perspective, and I agree, but also disagree.

It's not that I think CotL gods don't experience love the same way, but that when mortal lives are so short compared to their own, it's hard for that love to be practiced the same way. It's a bit different when you love someone who may as well be gone the next day to a god, vs when mortals decide to spend a percentage of their limited lifetime together with a partner.

I could see this scene as Kallamar being uncomfortably and forcefully aware of mortal instincts and how it likely strengthens his natural cowardliness and fears of death, and him assuming that's also how all other mortals feel due to lack of or outdated experience being one.

I bet Kallaboy was planning this whole scenario out before enacting it, deciding that since he's experiencing mortal fear of death, that Saleos would be experiencing it the same way. He's not taking into account how Saleos has acted towards his own death before, nor the ways in which others loyal to a god might offer their lives to their god.

In short, Kallamar is being incredibly mortal, by forgetting that mortals vary wildly based on personality and other things like devotion.

Before this scene, I bet he'd likely expect some posturing, a bit of threatening, but no actual follow through happening. Either assuming his own threatening/words would be enough to get the result, even if Saleos was unwilling--or he's expecting to not have to care about the follow through. Just because he loves someone doesn't mean their eventual death isn't just something mundane and expected to a god, which is still sees himself as, right? He might have been expecting some feelings around betrayal, if he had to really push Saleos to shift back to worship of him, but nothing like what actually happened in this scene.

How Saleos immediately goes for the sacrifice, so quick that Kallamar barely has time to make the injury nonfatal, slams it home that Kallaboy 1) miscalculated BADLY, 2) almost lost someone who is incredibly useful to him, but also he cares deeply for, and 3) oh shit, he CARES like a mortal cares about whether someone lives or dies--which again, another miscalculation. His OWN death isn't the only death he's worried about now.

I think Kallamar here is experiencing a ton of mind/body betrayal in this scene, I mean his heart is probably going a mile a minute when he's unused to it reacting at all. I'm sure this is all hammering home that he is mortal, but woefully uneducated in How To Mortal.

Basically, imo Kallamar is:

[NEW FEAR UNLOCKED: LOVER'S DEATH] "--WTF????"

Eating this eating this devouring it yes yes y

#ask a bird #learn how to mortal you squid #kalleos

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lovelybucky1 · 3 months ago

Note

Hey there,would you mind writing some nsfw and sfw alphabet for Wolverine?

starting off with nsfw alphabet. if i get enough requests, i’ll do the sfw too. send an ask if you want me to expand on any of the headcanons! // divider from @strangergraphics

A = Aftercare- logan is a pretty rough lover, so he makes sure to take good care of you when you’re finished. he looks over you to make sure he didn’t hurt you and gives you lots of praise. he’s a cuddler, so once you’re all settled, he’ll wrap you in his arms and hold you as close to him as possible

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)- logan has a love-hate relationship with his hands. they’re his most powerful weapon, but they also are able to touch your soft skin, hold onto your hair, and brush against your lips. he likes how big they look on your body and he likes the sounds he can elicit from you with them. on his partner’s body, he likes their chest. whether it’s pecs or tits, he likes to admire them. a low cut top, bralette, or thin t-shirt with nothing underneath is an easy way to draw his eyes

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)- this man has the biggest fucking breeding kink. whether he can actually get you pregnant or not, he’s going to cum inside of you and make sure it doesn’t leak out. it’s his way of claiming you, of making sure you carry him with you wherever you go. it’s your reminder of who you belong to when his cum leaks into your underwear long after you two have finished

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)- logan isn’t actually as much of a control freak as he may seem. he prefers to be dominant, but if his partner wants to take control once in a while, he’ll let them. having enhanced healing and stamina, he can take pretty much anything you throw at him

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)- logan has lots of experience. it’s not that he’s a whore necessarily, but he’s been around for a long time and a guy with his looks certainly gets a lot of offers. he’s had a lot of partners with a lot of different preferences, so it’s safe to say not much would surprise him anymore

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)- doggy style all the way. he loves mounting you and gripping your hips while he fucks into you. if your hair is long enough, he’ll grab ahold of it and sometimes he’ll pull his fingers in your mouth. he loves leaning over your back and talking shit in your ear because he knows his voice makes you dizzy

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)- logan isn’t really a goofy person in general. he tends to be more serious but he’ll laugh a little if something funny happens

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)- logan is hairy. he has thick hair covering his body and he tries to keep it trimmed in the important places, but it’s a lot to manage. he has some grey hairs mixed in with the dark ones on his chest, giving him a sexy salt and pepper look

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)- logan isn’t great with emotions. love and all that mushy stuff is hard for him to talk about, so he uses his body to show those things instead. sex with logan is passionate and no matter how dirty the sex may be, it’s his way of showing his devotion to you

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)- logan doesn’t jerk off too much. he prefers to spend his energy fucking someone rather than taking things into his own hands. he finds it way more satisfying that way

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)- logan is really into the idea of ownership and all of his kinks fall along those lines. he likes to be dominant and he wants his partners to address him with respect during play. sir works, but he is partial to daddy, especially when playing into the age gap between you two. logan never shies away from brat taming and will give a good, solid punishment when needed, but sometimes he’s lazy and just wants a good little sub to do with as he pleases.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)- anywhere private. he isn’t too picky about where, as long as you two have enough time to do want you want without being interrupted. there isn’t much privacy at the mansion, so he seeks out moments to get you alone. then he can be as filthy as he wants and no one is at risk of walking in on you

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)- bratting is the easiest way to turn him on. he can’t resist the urge to shut up a mouthy little brat. teasing him, playfully insulting him, pushing all of his buttons and daring him to do something about it is a sure fire way to get some kind of reaction out of him. it may leave your ass stinging, but it works nonetheless

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)- maybe this is controversial, but i don’t think there’s much he wouldn’t do. he’s open to new things and no physical harm can be done to him, so he would only draw the line at doing things that can do serious harm to his partner

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)- logan likes receiving oral, but he uses it mostly as a punishment for you. if you’re talking back, getting a bit too mouthy for his taste, he’ll stick his dick in your mouth to shut you up. when it comes to giving, he prefers to eat it from the back. he likes the feeling of his partners pressing up against his face as he explores them with his tongue

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)- like everything with logan, sex with him is rough. bruising fingers, fast paced, teeth sinking into skin, pulling hair. he’ll slow down to tease you, keep you on edge as a punishment, but he prefers to pin you down and fuck you stupid

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)- logan doesn’t really do quickies. he’s never that desperate for sex to rush it, and he would much rather take his time to throughly wreck you. if you’re the desperate one, he may ablidge and give you a quick fuck to calm you down, but that’s not his preferred kind of sex

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)- as i’ve said, logan is pretty experienced. there isn’t much he hasn’t tried at least once, but he’s open to anything new

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)- he can go all night and into the next morning. logan can fuck as long as you’re able to keep going, so him running out of steam is never something you’ll have to worry about

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)- logan is old fashioned when it comes to toys. he’s not really into them. if he wants to hold you down, he can do it with his own hands. if he wants to make you cum, it’ll be on his own dick. he doesn’t really care if you use them on yourself, but he prefers to do all the hard work himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)- logan is a huge fucking tease. he enjoys having control over your pleasure and will often edge you, sometimes as punishment and sometimes just because he feels like being a dick. he’ll also verbally tease you by calling you names and babying you, all in good fun, of course

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)- logan isn’t too loud during sex. he’ll grunt and growl, but they will mostly be quiet and in your ear. he doesn’t shy away from dirty talk, however. he may not say much in daily life, but that’s what makes the filthy words he says to you so much more impactful

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)- when it comes to letting his partners take control, logan is a bit of a masochist. no real harm can come to him, and after decades of fighting and sustaining injuries, the pain doesn’t bother him. in fact, the right kind of pain can be pleasurable for him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)- i think you have a pretty good idea of what’s going on under his clothes. he’s so muscular, all hard planes and thick limbs. his dick certainly matches the rest of his body; the thick length and vein leaving nothing to be desired

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)- logan can go a while without sex. he may be physically in peak condition, but mentally he’s ancient. if he’s worked up, he’ll seek out sex, but sometimes he’d rather just relax with a newspaper and his cigar

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)- logan is a tired old man. once all the aftercare is done, he’s going to fall asleep with you in his arms. good luck getting his dead weight off you; you’ll be stuck like that until he wakes up.

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #logan howlett smut #logan #logan x reader #wolverine x reader #wolverine #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine smut #wolverine fanfic #deadpool & wolverine #x men #x men fanfiction #x men smut

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sunlightmurdock · 9 months ago

Text

you don’t have to be a star | bob floyd

hey, hey, hey lover, I love you just the way you are.

in which after being outshone by his colleagues, Bob takes a moment of reflection with his soon-to-be wife before bed. For @ohtobeleah’s Galentine's Day Special <3

warnings: Bob being a little insecure, Jake being a little shit, kissing and allusions to sex. Adults cuddling and touching each other, nothing that isn’t PG-13. WC: 2.1k

…

Lieutenant Commander Jake Seresin is a force of nature, and has been for as long as anyone can remember. For some, he’s intolerable. For others, he’s irresistible. People rarely fall in the middle when it comes to their alignment with Hangman — devotion or despisement.

For you, he’s someone that you will always be indebted to. If it wasn’t for Jake, you would have never met the love of your life.

Two summers ago, you had been at a small gathering for a friend’s party in one of the bars in the Coronado Beach area, and apparently you had caught the eye of the troublesome blonde.

You hadn’t noticed him feigning for your attention with his steely green gaze, or talking about you coolly with his buddies. No, your first experience with Jake was him sauntering up to you, leaning one elbow against the bar and hitting you with a sloped grin. “How’s your night treating ya, sweetheart?”

But, if it wasn’t for Jake Seresin trying his hardest to get into your pants that one night in August, you never would have met Bob.

You would later learn that other people didn’t have quite the same problem you did. As Jake had swept you over to his corner of the bar for a game of pool that he was hoping would lead to much more, you just couldn’t help but notice the man sitting by the window.

His hand curled around a root beer bottle, thin wire-rimmed glasses sitting across the bridge of his nose, and a single chestnut coloured curl dangling onto his forehead.

The routine way he would roll those pretty, Disney-blue eyes, and scoff against his root beer at each smooth line that had rolled off of Jake Seresin’s tongue. Just like you, he knew Jake’s game, and didn’t find it a particularly engaging one to play.

Long after the sun had set and right about the time last orders were called, Jake still hadn’t seemed to give up on the idea of taking you home — and he was being nice about it — but your mind had been made up a long time before.

You had just sunk the eight-ball, and Jake was calling for a rematch. Your lips had just quirked softly, hoping that he would take the hint after this one. “I think I’d rather look for a more worthy opponent.”

“Oh yeah?” Jake had grinned to you, heavily amused by the idea of there being anyone in this bar more worthy than himself. “Like who?”

Bob remembers bashfully how you had turned to him, cocked your head and smiled. God — he probably looked like such an idiot, all shocked like that. He could have been so much cooler, could have answered faster when you had asked,

“How about you?”

But the sheepish nod he had given you seemed to do the trick. He left that evening with your phone number, and now, two years later, he’s wandering through your house in his socks calling your name.

“Damn,” You pop out from the closet a few paces behind him, making him flinch and suck in a sharp breath. “The government name? — What’d I do to deserve that?”

He softens into a smile as he turns around and reaches out for you. Happily, you step out from the closet and let him wrap his arms loosely around your waist.

“Well, the first twenty times I called, you didn’t answer, so,” He leans in real slow, tilting his head to the left and pecks softly at your lips. “Figured I’d try something new, honey.”

“Right, well,” A smile tugs at your lips as you reach up to wipe the transferred lip gloss from his mouth. “What can I help you with, Mr. Floyd?”

Not long now until he gets to call you by that name too. By the end of the year, you’ll be Mrs. Floyd and he still can’t quite believe that he’s so lucky.

“Can’t… figure out this damn thing, d’you think maybe you could help me?” He asks, gesturing down to the unfastened black bow tie around his neck. It makes you smile wider.

All of the wonderful, incredible things that Bob Floyd can do, and he just can’t figure out a bow tie.

“Sure thing, handsome,” You tell him, hands already getting to work with evening out the sides around his collar. “If you’ll reach up on that top shelf in there and grab my shoes once I’m done.”

Ah, so that’s why you were hiding in the closet. Bob hums. “Sounds like a fair deal.”

As you fasten the black silk into a uniformed bow, Bob glances down at your dress, and then back up to study your face. “You look beautiful.”

“Yeah.” You answer playfully, plucking at the bow to test its sturdiness, and dipping in for another kiss. Firm and longing — giving you an idea of exactly how he’s planning to start getting you out of that dress later tonight.

Tonight is Bradley Bradshaw’s thirty-sixth birthday party, organized by his wife. She pulled out all the stops and required a black-tie dress code. Her events are always good fun and tonight is no different.

A buzzing garden party with string lights and music — some of it provided by Rooster himself. Photos of Bradley through his adulthood and adolescence are strung up around the party, reminders of how loved he is by the people around him.

It’s an incredible night. You have a blast, laughing and dancing with the people you have grown to love over the course of your relationship with Bob.

But, on the drive home, you can’t help but notice that something seems to have rattled your soon-to-be husband. He’s quiet in the car. Once you’re home, he sulks inside and kicks his shoes off in the hall, shaking off his bow tie and heading straight for the bedroom.

Curious, you follow behind him with furrowed brows.

“Hold it right there, mister.” You tease him, making him stop in his tracks. You follow him into the dark bedroom, crossing over the carpeted floor and positioning yourself right in front of him. There’s a stern look on your face, peering up at him.

“Robert Floyd, are you bored of my company or something?”

He scoffs weakly, fingers curling around your waist, then tugging you into him. He nuzzles the tip of his nose into your hair and revels in the smell of your shampoo.

“Lieutenant Commander Robert Floyd, baby.” He reminds you. You jab him playfully in the ribs and he chuckles under his breath. “‘M just tired, is all.”

It’s not the truth. Really, Bob has known throughout your relationship with him that you could have done better. Jake wasn’t the only guy after you the night that you met.

Sometimes, it just plays on his mind that maybe you settled when it came to choosing him.

Especially on nights where Hangman shows up in the honeymoon phase with some new girl and makes that everyone else’s business. This wasn’t the first girl he has dangled under your nose, reminding you of what you could have had — playfully, of course. To Jake, it’s all good fun.

To Bob, it’s something different.

You squint up at him dubiously, then reach forwards and untuck his shirt from his pants. His gaze falls, watching you start to unbutton it for him.

“That’s it?” You prompt him, smoothing your palms across his bare stomach and up his chest, pushing his open shirt back off of his shoulders. He curls his fingers into the material of your dress, quiet. Your lips press softly to his clavicle, dragging down the warm skin of his pec.

He closes his eyes and breathes.

“Just… wonder if I’m enough sometimes, I guess.” He rushes out with closed eyes and a firm hold on you, like you could be gone when he opened them again if he couldn’t feel you.

Eyes open, you pull away from his chest and look at him.

“Enough?”

His cheeks grow hot. He starts to bite at his lip, his eyes shifting to the carpet. He’s always messing up with what he says. There’s always a better way to say it, and he never realizes until after.

You can see his brain working away, battling itself as he criticizes his behaviour.

“I’m not — showy.” He stumbles for the words and sighs, leaning his head back. “Sorry. I’m just trying to say… I’m trying to say that I’m sorry that I’m not the kind of guy to sweep you off your feet in front of everyone.”

Oh. This is about Jake. Jake showing off on the dance floor with his new girlfriend, throwing her around like she was weightless and kissing her like he was about to fuck her right then and there.

Your lips quirk at the idea.

He’s quiet as you lean in again, starting at the divet between his collarbones and kissing your way across his shoulder.

“Have you ever considered that maybe I don’t want to be swept off of my feet in front of everyone?” You ask him, pulling the leather of his belt from the buckle and unfastening it softly. Bob watches you, his lips pressed together in a thin line.

“No, maybe not, but — y’know, you deserve to be… shown off like that.” He mumbles, letting you undress him. He steps out of his slacks and turns you around, gently pulling down the zipper of your dress.

As it hits the ground and you turn to face him once more, he’s surprised to find you smiling at him. Grinning, almost.

“What?” He whispers.

“Sit down, cowboy.” You answer, nodding towards the edge of the bed. He frowns, but complies, perching on the edge of your shared bed. You drape your arms across his shoulders and straddle his hips, humming as you kiss him.

“If I wanted to be Hangman’s trophy, I could have been,” You shrug calmly and your fiancé wrinkles his nose at the thought. “I don’t want anyone else.”

He swallows, letting his open palm flow along the length of your back and down onto your ass.

“That’s not what I’m saying. I want you with me, but I wish… I wish I was more, for you.” Your wedding has been playing on his mind a lot recently — an entire day where all eyes will be on the two of you. You deserve someone who will shine as much as you do.

Kissing his mouth, his jaw, then his temple, you squeeze your arms around his shoulders and rock yourself just slightly in his lap.

“Do you want to know why I said I would marry you, Bobby?” You ask him, stroking a curl back off of his forehead. His arms hook firm around your waist, turning you swiftly and planting his weight on top of you. Mm, he hums.

You smile softly as he leans in to kiss at your neck, tenderly stroking your hair out of the way.

“You’re wonderful, and kind and handsome,” Is a relatively strong starting point, but doesn’t do much to sway him. He keeps on kissing. “Animals love you, which I love. You let me sit on your lap when you play the drums, which is really hot. Your handiwork has saved me from almost electrocuting myself so many times.”

He chuckles against your chest; that one is true.

“You remembered my coffee order the first time that you heard it. You still get scared when I sneak up on you. You took the time to teach me about the things you love, and learn about the things I love.”

Bob glances up at you from your navel, pressing a soft kiss to your skin, his palms smoothing along your thighs.

“You’re the last person I think about at night, and the first person I think about in the morning,” You tell him, stroking your fingers tenderly through his curls. He sits up and covers your body with his once more, kissing your mouth. Inches from his face, you lift your palm and stroke your fingers across his cheek. “You’re funnier than anyone I know, and I love that our inside jokes are just ours. So much of our life is just ours.”

He nods his head, his nose brushing your cheek.

“Doesn’t all of that sound like enough?” You ask him.

He leans in for another kiss, soft and slow, rather than answering you.

“You don’t have to be like those guys for me to love you, Bobby,” You decide, secure in the decision and equally secure in the ring that sits on your finger. His lips quirk softly as your legs wrap around his waist. “All I want is the way that you love me, and understand me, and all of you — for the rest of my life.”

Smiling finally, he nudges the tip of his nose against yours and kisses you deeply, pressing you down into your shared bed.

“That sounds like a fair deal.”

…

#leahs galentines day special #Bob Floyd #Robert Floyd #Robert Bob Floyd #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you

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