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theereina · 2 months ago

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Where You Going?

Pairing: Toxic Husband!Terry Richmond x Plus Size Fem Black!OC

Wordcount: +3.8K

Warnings: MDNI (18+) mature content, such as cursing, teasing, heavily dialogue-centered, use of pet names (Daddy, Mama, baby girl, lil' mama, pretty girl, good boy, etc.), P in V, Dom!Terry, Toxic!Terry, alluding to spanking *if you squint*, rough sex

A/N¹: This is a single one-shot with no planned sequels.

A/N²: I'm open to critiques. I am a little 🤏🏽 sensitive about my writing. Please, don't be too harsh.🥺 Feel free to bring my attention to any typos. Divider by ME (theereina). Also, this work is not to be plagiarized or reposted (on any site other than here on Tumblr). I do NOT give consent for any form of republishing or rewriting.

Masterlist: 🔥🔥🔥

As my opened suitcase lay on the bed, I only thought of getting as much of my stuff packed before he came home. I had no other priorities besides leaving. It was 7:02, so I had less than 2 hours before he left work.

“Fuck! I can't find my ring,” I said rushing into the bathroom.

I was struggling to search for it in the chaos I had created. The entire house was a mess. I had singlehandedly destroyed every room in less than 4 hours. No room was left unturned, and I didn't care about how the house looked. This would become his problem after I left. Maybe, he would finally pay attention to something other than his job and friends.

I lifted all of the items on the bathroom counter. To my surprise, I still couldn't find it. I remembered taking it off and sitting it on the counter before doing my hair a few days ago. The prongs always found a way to get tangled in the coils of my 4c hair. I chose to take the ring off rather than deal with my hair constantly getting snagged. Since removing my ring was something I always did, I didn't notice that I didn't have it until this morning.

“You know what?! He'll find it. I don't care anymore,” I said, huffing as I leaned against the counter.

I looked into the mirror, taking in my appearance. This was something I hadn't done in weeks. I was frightened by my reflection in the mirror. My hair hadn't been done in weeks. I was still slicking back the same low bun from almost a month ago. There wasn't an eyelash left in my lash extensions. My eyes were sporting dark circles and sunken from exhaustion. My chin and forehead were covered in stress pimples. Had I really let this man's bullshit drain me of the energy to even take care of myself?

“Arghhh… What the fuck is happening to me?” I said, swiping everything thing off the counter onto the floor.

I stumbled backward and braced myself against the outside glass of the shower door. I was falling apart at the seams. There was no way in hell I would spend another moment crying. All I wanted was for my husband to notice me and say something.

I hadn't heard an “I love you” in weeks. We barely slept in the same bed because he was always working overtime. Even simple conversations were non-existent or interrupted by phone calls. I was tired of the same fucked up routine— wake up, work, gym, home, sleep. Terry was no longer even a part of my current life routine, and he, for damn sure, wasn't making me a part of his.

I walked out of the bathroom, feeling dizzy. I knew that meant my anxiety was about to start whooping my ass.

As I walked up to the bed, I pushed a pile of unwanted clothes out of my way. I practically threw myself on the bed. I lay back and began taking deep breaths. I needed to calm down.

After what I thought was a minute or so, I leaned up and stared at my suitcase. I was honestly so exhausted after today.

I looked down at the watch on my wrist. It read 7:34. Realizing I was running out of time, I grabbed the suitcase and zipped it quickly. I wanted to be gone well before he left work so there was no chance of us running into each other.

I stood up, holding the suitcase. I let it fall to the floor and extended the handle. I turned towards the bedroom door. All I had to do now was walk out the front door and leave.

I took a deep breath and opened the bedroom door. Walking out into the hallway, the house felt eerily quiet. Pulling the suitcase down the hall, I realized how cold it was inside the home. That meant it was even colder outside.

I left my suitcase to sit at the corner of the wall which led to the opening of the living room. I quickly turned on my heels and walked back towards the room. I practically sprinted through the open door. Walking back to the bed, I began to toss the clothes onto the floor in search of a small jacket or sweater. Once I found the top of my black velour tracksuit, I slipped it on and zipped it up.

Back on my mission, I exited the room. It was the same ordeal as before. I went back down the hall, grabbed my suitc—. Where's my suitcase? I stopped to stare at where my suitcase was supposed to be. I turned back to look down the hall. I walked into the living room and began to panic.

“Where you going?” said a male's voice. I knew that voice all too well— Terry.

I spun around to find him sitting in a recliner in the dark. I couldn't see anything but the outline of his frame. Even in this state, his energy was nerve-racking.

“Huh?” I asked, spotting my suitcase on the floor beside him.

“I mean, you walked in here and put your suitcase down like you were about to go somewhere. So, where you going?” he asked, standing from the recliner.

With that statement, I realized Terry had been here the whole time. There was no telling when he had gotten home.

“Baby girl, I asked you a question. Where you going?” he asked, crossing his arms.

From this angle, I still couldn't see him. The small amount of moonlight from the window only illuminated the bottom of his pants and shoes. I felt like I was talking to a shadow which was making this so much harder than it needed to be.

I refused to answer his question. I knew if I talked it would only lead to me stuttering like a fool.

I quickly walked across the living room and snatched the suitcase from the floor. I turned to make a beeline for the door.

“You don't think I noticed your spoiled ass pouting?” Terry asked, causing me to stop in my tracks.

“Well, you didn't act like you did!” I yelled as I turned to face him. Unbeknownst to me, Terry was now right behind me. Not a sound was made to alert me of his movements. I stood there in shock, startled by his presence.

“Why should I? You're a grown a— grown woman. You have no problem using your mouth any other time. Why didn't you this time, huh? You forgot how to communicate, love?” Terry asked, leaning down.

As much as I wanted to curse him out, I couldn't. Every emotion was raging through me all at once.

“Fuck you!” I yelled, fighting back tears of anger.

I was pissed at myself. I had planned out this whole scenario— how I would act and what I would say. It was as if everything went out the window when he was in my face.

“Simmer down, baby girl,” Terry said, kissing my forehead.

“Or, what?” I said, stomping my foot and pushing him away.

Terry stood there, glaring at me. I don't know whether he was pissed or impressed. Hell, he may have been both. I forced myself to hold eye contact, trying my hardest to stand my ground.

Terry stood to his full height and scoffed. He took a single deep breath and let his hand run over his mouth. He was clearly agitated, but I couldn't care less.

I pulled the suitcase closer to me, backing up towards the door. Terry reached out and grabbed the handle of the suitcase.

“Hey!” I yelled.

I reached out to snatch it back, but Terry was quicker. He pushed the suitcase behind his back.

“You want it, then come get it!” he said, walking towards the hallway.

“Fuck it. I don't need it,” I said, turning to walk towards the door.

I open the door halfway before Terry's hand reaches over me to slam it shut, bracing his hand against the door. I tried to pry the door open, but even with one hand, Terry was stronger than me. I yell out in frustration.

“Imma ask you one more time. Where you going?” he asked, looking down at me.

I walked back into the living room, pouting. This was clearly not going the way I planned.

“Leave me the hell alone!” I yelled, turning back to the door where Terry was standing. His body acting a blocker.

“Imma let you know this now if you walk out this door, I'm changing the damn locks. TONIGHT!” Terry shouted, pointing at the door behind him.

“You can't lock me out of my house!” I yelled, getting closer to him.

“Our house, and try me. I can, and I will!” Terry declared, crossing his arms. He widened his stance as he glared at me.

“I can't stand you!” I said, throwing my hands in the air.

“Oh, really. That's how you feel, baby girl?” he said, smirking.

“That's what the fuck I said, ain't it?” I rebutted.

“You know what? Fine, here. You wanna leave so bad. Go! Here's your chance. I'm not even gonna stop you!” he said, putting the suitcase in front of me and opening the door.

I placed my hand on the handle. I stood there unsure of what to do. Why the fuck was he just giving up like this? What the fuck was going on?

“All you gotta do is answer my question. Where you going?” he asked, stepping closer to me.

I looked back and forth between him and the floor. I didn't have an answer because I didn't plan on having to explain myself.

“I…. I… I don't know!” I yelled, stomping angrily.

“You don't even have a plan, do you?” Terry scoffed in disbelief.

“No…. So, what?” I asked desperately trying to save face.

“Of course, you don't! Give me the suitcase,” Terry said, rolling his eyes.

“No!” I yelled.

“Give it here! I ain't asking you. I'm telling you. Do you not understand the difference, baby girl?” he asked, holding his hand out.

I contemplated my next move. Truthfully, I was all out of options. I handed Terry the suitcase. He grabs the handle and lifts the suitcase in the air. He unzipped it and dumped all of my clothes on the floor. He slung the empty suitcase across the room.

I look down at the pile of clothes in disbelief. My eyes dart back up to Terry's. This man was insane.

Terry used his foot to slam the door shut. Without turning around, he reached behind him and locked the front door.

“Don't look at me. Go in the room. We need to talk before we go to bed,” he said, flexing his hands. He stood in front of me rolling his shoulders.

“We can talk right here!” I blurted. I knew that if I walked back into our bedroom, I was in for a “treat”.

“Nah, we not doing that kinda talkin'. Let's go!” he barked.

I looked at him, fighting through my thoughts. I stood in place and crossed my arms.

“Ughh!” Terry grunted and picked me up.

“No! Put me down!” I yelled, pushing at Terry's back.

He carried me out of the living room and down the hallway. Walking into the bedroom, he placed me in front of the foot of the bed.

“You got one minute to strip, or I'm ripping it off of you myself!” Terry said, standing in front of me.

“And if I don't?” I mumbled under my breath.

“You keep acting like you really got options here. I'm being polite by letting you think you do. Don't play with me, baby girl. Strip!” Terry said.

“Why do you always do this?” I asked, pouting even harder. I threw my head back in defeat.

“Do what?” Terry asked, licking his lips. His eyebrows knitted together as he waited for an answer.

“This! You always… just… I don't know. This! I can never just leave!” I shouted. I didn't know what to say.

“Take a second to think about what you just said. You do this same thing over and over again. Yet, every time you do I stop you. If I am always able to stop you, did you ever wanna leave? Love, maybe I know my wife better than she does. Maybe, I'm used to your bullshit and tantrums, baby girl,” Terry said through gritted teeth.

“I hate you,” I sulked, feeling stupid. He had me all figured out. This was pissing me off.

“You what?” Terry challenged, getting closer.

“You heard me. I fucking hate you!” I yelled in Terry's face.

“Hahaha, imma make you eat those words. I hope you know that. Tuh! You so funny, baby girl,” Terry laughed, leaning so that his forehead rested on mine. “Now, strip! Don't think I forgot. Since you wanna play games, you got 30 seconds this time,” he lulled as he stood back and crossed his arms.

I begin to strip as slowly as possible. I unzipped my jacket at a turtle’s pace and pulled the arms of my jacket off one at a time. I could see this was pissing Terry off. His face was telling it all as he clenched and unclenched his jaw.

Without warning, Terry grabbed me and pushed me on the bed. Clothes be damned!

20 minutes later

I had taken my punishment of 15 spankings with pride. Honestly, that was nothing compared to what he was doing right now.

“You gone clean this shit up, right?” Terry said, pounding my pussy in.

I could feel his dick bottoming out and kissing my cervix with ease. I knew he was going to wear my ass out, but I didn't expect this. He hadn't let up since we started. He went from tearing my ass up to stuffing me with dick.

“Yes, Daddy!” I screamed out.

Every inch of his dick was being swallowed by my pussy. He didn't care that I was fighting for my life. He was too busy watching himself slide in and out of me— egotistical green-eyed bastard.

Terry grabbed the back of my legs and pushed them into my chest. My knees were practically hitting the mattress. I was feeling an intense burn in my abdomen and thick thighs from this man folding me in half.

“Baby girl just wanted some dick, huh?” he asked as his hips snapped against my already sore ass.

“Yes, I'm sorry!” I moaned out into the air.

I glance up at Terry to find him smirking at me. Terry's arms wrapped around my thighs, pulling me closer.

“Nah… You hate me. Remember?” he asked as a devilish grin spread across his face.

He flattened his body on top of me and let his full weight fall on me, pressing me into the mattress. I didn't know what this position was, but I knew it was about to fuck me up.

As if his dick was magic, this position made me feel like he was deeper than before. How? His dick couldn't grow, could it?

He rested his forehead on mine and looked into my eyes.

“Tell me you hate me, now! Come on! Go ahead! I wanna hear it!” Terry said, leaning in and kissing me softly.

Terry slowed his strokes down, punishing me. Unfortunately, I couldn't speak or think. I didn't know what he expected from me.

“Daddy, I can't!” I mewled through gritted teeth. Hot tears flowed freely down the sides of my face.

“Nah. Stop telling me what you can't do! Tell me you hate me again. I wanna hear it!” Terry said, sliding his hand around the front of my neck.

Terry applied a small amount of pressure to the front of my throat, causing me to whimper from the pressure. I was beginning to squirm under him. I couldn't focus on anything but my half-assed breathing.

“Don’t worry, love. I'm about to make you hate me,” he said, kissing me again.

He grabbed a hold of the back of my neck and pulled me onto his lap. Lifting me slightly, he reached his hand between us to enter me again. I let out a small and desperate whimper. I didn't know how much more of this I could take. (position)

“You givin’ up on me? Baby girl… Look at me. Stay focused on me,” he said, thrusting upward.

Sadly, I was too fucked out to fuck back. It was as if all of the power and energy he had left was being used against me right now. His hands gripped the underside of my ass tightly. Using this as leverage, he would lift me a little and let me drop down into his thrusts.

I promise you from this day forward I will never tell this man I hate him again. The sound coming from our skin slapping together was deafening and thunderous. I couldn't believe the amount of energy this man still had. My pussy was gonna love hate me later.

“Daddy wants your apology to be as loud as your disrespect! Let me hear it!” he shouted, pulling my hair so that my face was pointed at the ceiling.

It was clear to me that this was purely punishment for me and amusement for him.

“You wanna cum, baby girl?” Terry asked, kissing all over my face.

“Yes, Daddy!” I groaned, falling into him.

“Then, I better hear my goddamn apology! Come on! You better not cum before I get it either!” Terry said, licking the side of my neck.

I honestly could have cum from that alone. I moaned out in a whimper. His hands released from my body, but I knew better than to think he was done. He grabbed my waist and flipped me over. Using one hand, he pulled me back onto him and into a kneeling position. His chest now rested against my back.

“Don't move,” he whispered in my ear, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Entering me again with ease, he wrapped one hand around my throat while holding my body taut to his. In this position, I could feel every breath he took.

“Now, what did I say? You can't cum until you apologize, right?” he taunted.

His thrusts became slow and intentional. It was evident that Terry had a point to make, and he was going to drive it home whether I could handle it or not.

As if he could hear my thoughts, his other hand found my clit. He began rubbing and stroking along the underside of it. I felt like I was physically melting.

Before he could say another word, I began to speak. “I'm sorry, Daddy. I don't… ahh… fuck… I don't hate you. Please!” I screamed into the air.

I was being fucked into submission clearly because instead of letting up, he went harder. His fingers began to rub my clit even faster, his other hand tightened around my throat, and his stroke became more vicious. I was falling and fast. My ears were ringing and listening was becoming impossible.

“Nah… Say… that… shit… louder. Come on!” he said, enunciating with every thrust.

I gasped and drew in a deep breath, causing me to cough.

I could finally feel the beginning signs of his orgasm, which meant relief was near. However, I knew Terry could hold off as long as he needed or wanted to.

“Please, Daddy! I’m sorry. I’ll never… ahh.. I’ll never say it again. Please, just let me cum!” I yelled even louder than the first time.

I was struggling to catch my breath at this point. I was so close. I could feel the muscles of my pussy tightening around Terry’s dick like a boa constrictor, and the pressure building up in my abdomen had reached its peak.

Pulling me back into a kiss, Terry spoke low and directly into my ear. “Cum! Now! You… got… this,” he said in between kisses.

With a potency laced with pleasure, I released the biggest flood I ever had. My legs began to shake, and my body fell forward. Terry instantly tightened his hold on me, forcing me to stay up. I couldn't feel my legs. I wanted nothing more than to sleep, preferably under him.

“Oh, baby. We’re almost done. Let Daddy finish,” Terry rumbled into my ear.

It wasn't like I had a choice anyway. He clearly wasn't stopping. He let go of my body, letting me fall forward with his dick still inside me. Of course, he would finish like this. His favorite position is doggy style. Placing one hand on my upper back, his hips dipped with every thrust. Miraculously, I felt the need to cum again. I wasn't even going to ask for permission with this one. Hell, I couldn't.

“That’s right, baby. Now, tell Daddy what we learned?” Terry demanded.

I pressed my face into the mattress because how in the hell was he expecting me to speak? Pulling my head up by my hair and undoing the last remnants of what was supposed to be a bun, he positioned me on all fours.

“Talk! I need to know that this ain't gone ever happen again. Because in this house, we respect Daddy, right?” he said, slowing his strokes again.

‘Ahhh, fuck… Yes, we… Daddy respect!” I yelled drunkenly.

“Awww, listen to my baby. You so dick dumb, right now. Daddy’s dick fuckin’ you up, huh?” he asked, pounding into me slowly.

All I could do was respond with a low yes and moan, causing Terry to let out a ragged laugh.

“Mmmm… cumming, now!” I yelled.

“Daddy is too. Don’t move!” he said, gripping my hip and pushing me deeper into the mattress.

Terry’s climax crashed with mine. His cum and mine flooded my pussy. The intense combination of fluids forced Terry out of me. I fell forward on the bed, immediately laying flat on my stomach. My body was exhausted and sore. I crashed into recovery mode as my eyes immediately shut. I was practically half-asleep as soon as my body hit the bed.

Terry laughed behind me. “And what did we learn?” Terry asked, stepping backward off the bed.

“Mmm… We don't disrespect, Daddy. I'm sorry. I love you,” I mumbled.

“That’s what the fuck I thought,” Terry said, smacking my ass.

The lesson of today is that I’m not going any-fuckin’-where.😉

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deepmochi · 1 year ago

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SYNASTRY: Venus in the houses (7th-12th) part 2

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Note: Honestly, I had a draft for the 2nd part, but probably I deleted by mistake, or tumblr did it (idk). Maybe, That's why I thought I already posted the 2nd part, but I was wrong.

Part 1 🩷

♡ Venus in the 7th house ♡

These couple usually views commitment as all or nothing, are you in or not? They have strong values about true love, and they will follow them. Love is viewed as a contract by their souls or hearts. If they break any aspect proposed, they know it's the end. They can be reflections of themselves either the good or the bad. When the contract is done, it's over. The Venusian sees the house person as a very stable being. They feel safe and prepared for them. These two may live together before the year of knowing each other romantically. The pair just feel ready when it's about commitment. The house natives perceive the Venusian as very "wife/husband" material for them. With this overlay, their personalities blend well and work together. It feels natural for both of you to be close and intimate together. For others is moving too fast, and for them is easy to become intimate with each other. The seventh house person fits well for the planet native. These two feel like it's a soulmate connection, very easy. You’re both drawn to please each other. It's a very strong connection for long-term relationships. It takes time for them to move on if they ever break up. If Venus has bad aspects, it can be a toxic relationship. The reason for this, it's that they prefer to stay together instead of being alone or start something new. Intimate gesture like hugs and someone hand guiding the other. Cooking dates and going out at night the most. "Here, I bought this?";morning texts: " how are you today? My day...." "Can I call you, I miss your voice"; " My mom ask if we can go to her party?" ; "we should go to that restaurant"; Formal clothes; "hey, look me, they don't know how worthy you are". They like to spend time with people they love. Balance. If Venus cooks today, the house will do it tomorrow. Wearing nice clothes and a good perfume to impress the other. Compliments and physical touches, especially kisses in the cheek. Cheesy things like love letters. Having "the song" or the place.

♡ Venus in the 8th house ♡

These two have a different kind of love. The Venusian feels like the house person bring something in them that they can explain. Sometimes, these people have taboos to share. Death has impact their lives. The house person may become obssess with the planet person. Sex isn't a way emerger together. Usually, they possess the same interest in taboo topics. In the beginning, Venus feels attracted to the house, but it's also scared of them. Their sexual energy is intense. The 8th house person wants to know the Venusian's secrets and fears. Both are possessive, but the house win the round. They detest when their partner don't respect them. Their relationship status will remain a secret for the public eye (in the beginning). They would share many things even traumas (if hardly aspected). The house native will protect the Planet from the world. Sex can be very intimate or aggressive (bsdm stuff). These people will not be the same they were when they met. For them, love is intense and transformational. The house feels that the Venus native is trustworthy, but they need to see their actions. Holding hands during intimate times. During sex they will talk and have intense stares. "I don't like that person, be aware of them", "Here, use this for yourself"; "if you need money, just let me know"; "don't lie to me, I know you are sad"; his/her hand on your thing while eyes are on the road; taking notes of your gestures. They have weird hobbies together and enjoy dark humor too. Moonlight sex and long sessions.

♡ Venus in the 9th house♡

These individuals perceive love as a new adventure and try to go with the flow. If they're mature, they prefer to maintain a very healthy relationship. Both prefer to travel and know about new places and cultures. Love is not as other say. They may prefer to do things their way. Venusian isn't instantly involve, but they see the house as interesting. For the house native, the planet is nice an attractive, but they will not force things. The house native could be older than the Venusian. The house person likes the planet manners and life vision the most. They see the commitment as an experience. Sometimes, marriage isn't obligatory requirement. They may enjoy walks, museum, and play board games. One could be from another country or have a different culture. Their relationship presents a new chapter in their lives and their families. Besides, they like to engage in intellectual debates, maybe they are into philosophy. If they broke up, they will try to be professional or move on. They can meet later in life after maturing. It's likely that you will work together or in the same environment. Having a child or more is possible, so use protection. "Look at here, we can travel here"; "aww, baby, you were right they declare that"; ["I really want to buy that book" / "baby, you have that book already"]; Saving for vacations; buying each other souvenirs or antique objects as gifts; reading books and doing small debates about it; *knowing each other during trips, universities, conferences, cultural events, and religious activities" Buying new book editions. They love to try new foods or learn about new places together. They could meet while traveling or in college.

♡ Venus in the 10th house♡

Coworkers to lover vibes. They are comfy with being mature. Similarly to the previous combo, the house partner is the older one or has more experience. This partner also has more dominant energy. They could meet in different levels. The negative aspect is that they could be very nitpicking and too logical when it comes to love. The planet individual sees the house person as straightforward and mature. Partnership is very important; it's like a contract. If one of the part broke a part of the deal, it's done. They can work together or met during college (last year), conference or work related things. They are straightforward and mature when approaching the other. If badly aspect it, they have an issue with power imbalance (not good at all). Big egos over emotions, this is the start of arguments. They plan their dates. The planet person accepts that the house individual cares for their image and professional life. The Venusian isn't afraid of being a home stayed wife. Here the Venusian knows and appreciates the house efforts to balance their stability. Nonetheless, the house person must value the venusian support. Doing plans after they leave the work; caring for the other in profesional settings; making food or leaving notes in the stuff *you can do it* in their computer. Making each other feel valuable "Here, i make you favorite food"; let's celebrate your new position"; *making time to luch together*; naming the other whenever they can "I'm grateful for my wife meals and support"; giving gifts and showing their s/o in public. Even thought people think they aren't super romantic, they will try to match things. It could be rings, watches or wearing the same brand. Looking good.

♡ Venus in the 11th house♡

Love depicts a friend to lover storyline where both care for dreams and humanity. It's very possible that they met when they were helping other people. The Venusian fits the house's ideal type. They seem more friendlier than other couples. You wouldn't think they were dating at first. They prefer to joke around, but they love each other. The Venusian share the dreams the house native have for life. It's also likely that they like each other in the future, even if they met since birth. They prefer to have experience with love before settling down. Its common to see them as "I thought they were only friends". The Venusian sees the house person as humanitarian, reliable and interesting. Stay protected because big family can be a thing. Moreover, the must clarify about what is a family. The house perceives the planet native as beautiful and too much to some people. Together, they will form a very unique pair and family. Regardless Venusian feel the planet as hopeful person. The eleventh house person sees a future with the venusian because they feel understood. Love for the house is independent, and the venusian can see this as as a relief. Making fun of the other in a non hurtful way. "I can't deal with you right now *kiss them*"; "Alexa plays titanic's song" *grabs the venusian and starts dancing*; *hugs their s/o when they're cooking*; being romantic when they're alone; sending spicy texts "come home, I'm ready"; talking about the future; matching devices or wallpapers; a lot of trust, they share passwords. Having the same or similar friends. They like to help other people. Donating for other people as a hobby or helping to people who need. Dates in the nature. Cleaning beaches, rivers or places.

♡ Venus in the 12th house♡

Love is simple but blurry. They can't get confused in how they love. The house sees the Venusian see them as the real deal. The planet perceive the house native as too good for them. There are some blurry aspects that they don't understand. When this synastry happens, it can feel too blurry for outsiders. Sometimes, they feel as friends and others as partners. At times, they hide their feelings without realizing or because they don't want to hurt the other. The house may hide their crush for the planet (too well). The Venus feel like the house person hides things for them. The house native don't want to bother the venusian. The house wants to give all they have to the venusian without having a concrete reason (maybe they are friends, but they are their #1 friend). This connection feel very special even divinely guided. The house is very observant with the Venusian Different backgrounds, it's possible that the house person has faith or not. One (usually the venusian) is more intuitive. Venus comes to open the house's eyes to other knowledge. The house will do all they can, so the venusian is happy. They can be soulmates (even non platonic). On the negative side, they don't have good communication because they avoid confronting each other. Both have experience paranormal activity, but only one believes more. The Venus person will try to invite the house to their home (pure opening of their soul). The Venusian can be quite delulu, but the house see it as funny or special. They met when something is ending for the Venusian. Romantic times, home dates, asking the other about things or traumas carefully, a special vibe around them. *Big smiles and shiny eyes*, "I buy you this; you tell me two months ago around 9pm" "aww thank you", "are you sleeping well?" - "yes" , *astrology or tarot talks* "can you give your birth time?" - "12:34 am" " it was bad?" "No, we match". Talk about paranormal activities like any other topic, special dates, random celebrations, secret spots, discreet dates, spirtual conection, they may understand the other, but can't explain it.

Take what resonates only. 💚

#venus #venus synastry #astrology #venus in the 7th house #astrologynotes #zodiac #astrology community #venus in the 12th house #venus in the 8th house #venus in the 11th house #Venus in the 9th house #venus in the 10th house #astrologia #aries #scorpio #libra #deepmochi #pisces

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charlotte-zophie · 1 year ago

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Therapy conversation

Dear Fandom, dear Mr. Gaiman,

I hope this isn´t weird but i have something to confess.

Since I watched the second season of Good Omens, I've gone through so many phases that I barely recognize myself anymore.

My first reaction after episode 6 was shock, then I was disturbed because I didn't know that it was possible for a series to have such a strong influence on my psyche, I questioned myself and doubted my sanity. Then I was overcome by an incredible sadness and was really heartbroken. I felt like a pubescent teenager, in my mid-30s. I couldn't sleep properly for several days, had nightmares and my thoughts were with these two ineffable loving idiots the whole time.

And the worst thing about it was that for the first few days I was really ashamed to admit to myself and my husband that I was completely and hopelessly immersed in this world. I did nothing but watch videos, listen to sad songs, and read heartbreaking fanfictions for days. And of course I read the book again and watched the series over and over again. All in the hope that it will ease my heartache a little.

But as is often the case in these situations, after a few days in which no real change occurs, you have the thought that you will be lost in this feeling forever. But since I have 3 children that I need to look after, of course locking myself away for weeks with heartbreak wasn't an option, so I had to find an outlet for myself to channel my pain.

So I started painting a picture. By Aziraphale and Crowley. And stroke by stroke I let my feelings flow out of me and into the picture.

It took over a week until I had a motif in which I could see my thoughts and feelings expressed and then it took another week until I finished the picture. On an old canvas with paints that haven't been used for a long time, with many, many layers of old paint underneath.

But when the picture was finally finished, it really took a load off my mind. It was like I had broken a dam and was finally able to let it all out and convert it into creative energy.

But I think the most important thing was that I uploaded the picture to Tumblr and received such a response that I was incredibly touched and immediately motivated to paint more pictures.

Since that day, hardly a moment goes by when I am not holding a pen in my hand or not thinking about a new picture. I'm in one of the most creative phases in a very long time and I'm really enjoying it.

I am so grateful for the wonderful people here! Here I see that I'm not alone with my strange feelings that I still don't really know how to classify. Here I read thoughts that are so similar to mine, here I see works of art that melt my heart, here I feel understood!

And I am so grateful for the pain that showed me the way back to my creative energy!

Thank you Fandom!

Thank you Neil Gaiman!

I would have been lost without you!

Because I don't know my way around here very well, I didn't think about pinning the picture in question as a link when I created this post, but since many people have asked about it, I've pinned it here. Thank you all, love love love

#good omens #good ineffable omens #ineffable fandom #neil gaiman #i love you all #so grateful #ineffable idiots #ineffable fanfic #ineffable family #ineffable fanart

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todaystarot · 5 months ago

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What Will Your Future Child Love About You?

- a pick a card.

one two three

explanation.

I always see people say that there are many forms of love, not just romantic. Which, they are correct in. Yet, they still have a narrow view on it and refer to friendship as an example, or if they are big hearted their pet… Which is completely fine, I just felt a desire to create a pick a card that’s focused on love but none of those things. I never saw a pick a card with this topic before, neither on youtube or on tumblr. Could just be me though. Felt like making it anyway. If you don’t want children, that’s cool, I chose this topic because I would like to be a mother one day. This reading also applies to the first child you will have, or you know, the next one.

disclaimer.

Remember to take things with a grain of salt, and only take what resonates. Not because I don’t trust my skills, but because several people read pacs, what’s not meant for you could mean the world for someone else. Besides, this is for entertainment and the energy surrounding you or the overall situation could change any second. Life is unpredictable.

how to pick your pile.

There is always several ways to pick a pile, and sometimes maybe multiple call for us. You can pick the one that you can’t take your eyes off, even if there’s another picture you might find prettier. You can ask your guides to guide you in choosing a pile, or go with the old regular closing your eyes and picking whichever one your eyes land on. I usually do that too.

proof read?

Unfortunately no. Please know that I would never put anything in my PAC with harmful intentions towards you or anybody else.

one

You, my dear pile one will be so loved for so many reasons! It’s truly incredible. Even though you might not think that you will be an awesome parent - maybe now, maybe in the future -, trust me, your child will think otherwise! First of all, they will have this adoration towards you staying calm even in stressful situations and knowing how to handle things, how to take care of them and provide a solution and smooth things out. This is will make them feel safe next to you, and with time calm down as they see that you yourself are calm too. Of course, you wouldn’t always be calm, but you wouldn’t show even when you are scared so there is someone grounded in the situation that can take charge even if just on an emotional level. - I am saying this because your spouse will help you out when things are hard, not because you aren’t capable. -

Another thing here seems to be that you will respect their privacy and love life, as long as they are safe you will let them love safely and explore their interests as much as they need to in order to be happy. You let them be independent all while allowing them to rely on you and come to you when they need it. They know that this isn’t something everyone has, so they are all the more grateful to have someone like you as their parent. You are not invasive, you are not judgmental but so full of love, acceptance and understanding towards them. Maybe because you had a childhood where you weren’t happy, so you will do your best to give them everything good that you couldn’t get to have. Full of love, and they will remember it for the rest of their life.

📜 nine of swords, two of cups reversed, four of cups, page of swords reversed, queen of cups side ways, knight of swords side ways - facing the other way -, three of wands

confirmation.

high school musical , adele , nelly - dilemma , ‘i will love you till the day that I die , someone in this pile had to give up on their dream to be a singer/musical artist, hamilton, ‘vanessa open the door please’, ‘ (…)running out of time’ , 777 , city girl , virgo - do you have tummy issues? - , rihanna & eminem / asap rocky , pink nails but w a lot of charms , diverse pile

two

Alright, so I will be honest with you. Your next child will have some developmental issues, but not necessarily life threatening ones. - neither in a sense of d*ath or having trouble living on their own. they will just need a bit of help. - While asking your questions I stuttered a lot despite being calm, so I honestly think your child will have speech issues. Maybe potentially this could be genetic, or anything of the sort.. They will love you because even if you will have a hard time, where your mental health or emotional state will be tested you will never ever in your life will give them a hard time for whatever it is that they are struggling with. You will be loving, kind, gentle and patient with them. Instead of forcing them to learn in a pace which will stress them out you will be the one to learn how to understand what works best for them, and do that. They will really appreciate this. Honestly, regardless of whatever this issue is, I feel sorry because they have such a sensitive heart. Even if they shouldn’t, there is just some things they take to the heart and might feel like they are the problem even though they didn’t do anything. Such a pure child, the sort that’s very well behaved, kind to adults and friendly to their peers.. so these thoughts really could just come from overhearing and misinterpreting conversations or perhaps just overthinking. The funny thing is, I do think you would be their safe haven because they know you would never judge them no matter what heartbreak they are going through. It’s like they can’t imagine a life without you.

Now, I don’t mean to be an asshole or scare anyone unnecessarily. I am not a doctor and I will never be, but the ace of cups reversed here can represent miscarriages or pregnancy complications. So please if you are a woman look after your health. I don’t mean to scare you bc at the end of the day this is a collective general reading and we don’t know each other, but it’s always nice to look after your health regardless.

On a MUCH brighter note though, they will truly appreciate whenever you support their interests. They might be a book worm, so if this is something you two have in common they could happily share their interests with you! They will do it regardless, but your baby would get so excited if you show interest in them.

You will also stand next to them and support them no matter what they go through in life, let that be good or bad, which is something they will really appreciate.

📜 six of pentacles reversed, knight of pentacles, four of wands, ace of cups reversed, the heirophant, the high priestess, seven of pentacles

confirmation.

twilight , renesme , butterflies , cross necklace , bbc , orange hair and freckles - this is for someone who will have a little boy - , ocean green eyes , what was I made for - Billie Eilish , 5sos , ‘i bet on losing dogs’ , mother mary , flashing lights , genetic , obsession with beats / drums ? - not for the child, a reader in this pile -

three

Your child, will sometimes give you headaches.. but they will really love you. If you have ever seen modern family then they sort of remind me of Hailey in the earlier seasons. Bratty, picks fights, doesn’t always understand where her mom is coming from but sees all the hard work that she does and appreciates and loves her mother - both parents really - quite deeply. Not to say I am calling your child bratty, or a brat. That’s not where I am going with this, rather your guides pulled towards letting you know this first so you don’t misunderstand the rest of the reading.

They will, first of all, love that you will give them everything that you can. Y’all will be pretty well off. Not only will you guys be able to live comfortably but they will have a few unnecessary things that they don’t even need or probably forget about in a few years after getting it. They are not ungrateful, rather the opposite. They know this is a privilege, they don’t look down on those less fortunate than you guys, they are just grateful that they have a parent that cares about them so much they would give them everything they ask for, even if things aren’t always the brightest. You also, always, without any question get them out of any trouble or uncomfortable situation and defend them. Won’t matter if they are in the wrong or not, that’s your baby and you will stand by them!

They also love to travel with you! They enjoy your company a lot and to make memories, they always look forward to exploring the world with you. They might also follow you around like a little duckling, even if you only go to the store or to do some super boring errands. Honestly, your kid is an extrovert and super clingy. In a cute way though for sure.

Your dynamic with them reminds me of a tiktok I saw months back, where the teenage kid was piggy back riding the mom and she was annoyed as she recorded saying “look what I have to deal with”, but in reality she truly just appreciated the love. Such an easy going and regular pile, love that for y’all.

📜 nine of pentacles, seven of pentacles, the hermit reversed, knight of swords, four of wands, six of swords, three of wands

confirmation.

thrift shop - macklemore , old house in the balkans/europe in summer - ?? so specific, did you travel back to your home country in summer or planned to? - , moonlight , witch craft , snake , ‘i know a place we can escape ‘ , those fluffy slippers that are like plushies & soft pjs , airplanes , power wires , lime - & cheetos ?? -

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarotblr #astro community #astroblr #free tarot #pick a deck #pick a picture #pick an image #tarot divination #tarot reading #tarotcommunity #tarot community #tarot cards #didn’t proof read sorry y’all

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wonustars · 1 year ago

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𝘋𝘰𝘯𝘵 𝘔𝘰𝘷𝘦, 𝘏𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺

Soobin vers. | Beomgyu vers.

txt as 5sos songs: you look so perfect.

Summary: yeonjun is a well known, attractive, and respected. you two are total opposites. the last thing that you would expect is for him to take interest in you. first meeting you at a coffee shop, he beomes a regular. constantly coming back to visit, but not just for the iced americanos.

Reposts are always appreciated/encouraged!! Tumblr works on reblogs not likes, Thank you for your support :)

Tags: nonidol!yj, popular!yj, campuscrush!yj, shy!asocial!reader, total opposites, opposites attract, yeonjun is so sweet and gives lots of reassurance, reader is a little angsty but still a lovely mc!

SMUT! MDNI 18+ only!

Warnings: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, afab!reader, virgin!reader, unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), fingering, mating press, creampie, bigdick!yeonjun,this one is more on the vanilla side.

Word count: 5k words

Note: this story contains smut so minors pls DNI! I mean it, if I see you interacting i will be blocking you. hellowwww!! a lot of people really liked the preview so, heres the full thing hehe. i like half assed with the proof read so let me know if i've missed any typos, tags or warnings!! my lovely Taehyun will be after this one :)

happy reading ~

All your life you had been the one in the shadows. There are no major plot points or no “y/n moments” that people would use to describe Wattpad-like events. You weren’t upset about this though, the life you live is content, happy enough.

A normal day-to-day for you consists only of two things, school, and working at the cafe across campus. Your life isn’t appealing to others, but you like how quiet it is. A quiet life with no disturbances, no drama, and no feelings of stress. It's a peculiar feeling to want something that seems so lonely.

The last time you witnessed a major disturbance in your life had to be the event that took place within the confines of your part-time job. Two men were trying to win the heart of a girl. Two attractive men at that. The whole time the three were quarrelling you wondered what it would feel like knowing someone wanted you that bad, that they would fight someone else to have you.

It left an odd taste in your mouth, and a stinging feeling behind your eyes.

“Hey… are you guys still taking orders?” a voice brings you out of your internal tangent. You perk up from the relaxed position you were in. Shamefully, you nod. Not wanting to make eye contact you head towards the register.

“What can I get for you?” you ask, eyes trained on the ordering screen.

“A large iced americano please, that’s all.”

“And the name of the order?” you ask, a stupid question. No one else was in the cafe except you and this random guy. The music feels louder than it usually does, the embarrassment causes your ears to turn red.

“Yeonjun.”

..̇·𓏲 would you wanna run away too?

Yeonjun found himself coming to the cafe across campus more often now. The girl behind the counter piqued his interest, more than anyone he’s ever come across before. The energy you gave off, the fact that you were so shy? He couldn’t get you out of his head. So much so that he caught himself visiting you for his iced americano at least once a day.

Yeonjun was never on the shy side, he had always been popular at school, living a life filled with social interaction. Everyone at school always adored him, not only for his looks but his charming personality. Which only made the fact that not being able to talk to you is a weird, new feeling for him.

As much as he wanted to talk to you, he just didn’t know what to say. Where to start, how the conversation should come about. He was overthinking, and he also felt like it was wrong to only visit the cafe as an excuse to see you, like a stalker, although this is just some innocent crush.

“A large iced americano please,” Yeonjun asks, giving you his sweetest smile. You glance up at him and give a slight nod. He has been coming to the cafe more often lately, you weren’t sure why but you weren’t complaining. A handsome customer becoming a regular was something that caused you to look forward to your shifts.

“Is that all?” you ask, looking up to glance at his features again. Fuck he was so attractive.

“Actually, there’s something else I wanted to ask.” Yeonjun declares, his face covered with a layer of determination. You don’t say anything, the feeling of anticipation bubbling in your stomach. “Can I also get your number?”

Your eyes almost fell out of their sockets. Not in a million years could you have predicted that the handsome regular would ask for your number.

“U-um yeah sure it’s _” you're stuttering, no one ever asked for your number before. Is this the “y/n moment” so many people on the internet talk about?

..̇·𓏲 you look so perfect standing there

As soon as you get home from your shift a notification lights up your screen. It was a foreign feeling to see your phone light up from a notification, let alone a message. Of course, you had friends, but they preferred to hang out in person rather than text.

You already knew who it could be from, your cheeks heating up at the thought, and possibilities of what this notification might contain. Getting ready for bed quickly, you envelope yourself in your comforter. The light from your phone screen lights up your dark room.

unknown number: hey, is this y/n? its yeonjun. from the cafe.

you: Yes this is y/n :)

yeonjun: hi! you got home safely, im glad.

you: Yes I did, and so did you. I’m also glad.

yeonjun: lol ya i hope i didn’t come off too strong earlier. i just want to get to know you more.

you: No you didn’t, Its ok. I didn’t think you would even want my number. It was kind of a surprise.

yeonjun: what ofc i would want your number, i think you’re really pretty. and you make good americanos

you: Thank you, it just wasn’t what i was expecting. Americanos arent rocket science tho, its literally water and espresso lol

yeonjun: yeah ik but they taste so much better when you make them :)

It’s only been a few minutes since you and Yeonjun started talking over text, but your face has already turned into a deep shade of crimson. Throwing your phone across your bed, you shove your face into your pillow letting out a scream. The sound of your feet hitting your bed as you kick them and giggle like a mad woman. As you come back to your senses, you quickly remember that you have yet to reply.

you: You flatter me Yj, you should keep coming back for them if you like them so much.

yeonjun: yj? even my nickname sounds sweeter coming from you, but the Americanos weren’t the only thing i was coming back for.

The smile on your face hurts your cheeks. Never has anyone made you feel like Yeonjun did as he texted you. The blatant flirting and numerous compliments realized how much you were missing out on while living your mundane student life.

It had only been a few hours of texting each other back and forth, but you started to grow fond of the person Yeonjun is. He’s so handsome, not just in the face, but also with the way he carried himself. The impression he gives off is insanely attractive. The way he made you feel wanted, liked, and cherished over the simplest things reeled you in.

..̇·𓏲 your lipstick stain is a work of art

It’s been a few weeks since you and Yeonjun started talking but it has started to become a part of your daily routine. You’ve become accustomed to the many good morning and goodnight texts, the late night Facetime calls, and the blatant flirting from Yeonjun.

He still comes into the cafe daily to grab his iced americano which you look forward to every shift.

“Hey y/n!” a voice coming from the entrance grabs your attention.

You’re working the lunch rush and have been trying to restock the pastries in the glass display. To your dismay they weren’t cooperating with you, leaving you frustrated and tired. A sigh of defeat leaves your lips and you turn your head over to the person calling your name.

It’s him. The one person who makes your whole shift a little better. He looked so good walking through the door. His dark blue hair appeared more vibrant than usual, and the sun was hitting his face in the most heavenly way. Your heart was pumping hard, the flow of blood running to your ears and cheeks.

Yeonjun walks up to you, and you notice someone following close behind him. Your eyes shift between the two of them. Assuming thoughts filling your head quickly.

She is really pretty, you thought.

They walk up to the counter together, laughing about something amongst themselves. It made your heart sink to the floor. The feeling in itself made you want to throw up.

Quickly, you push it aside. You were not wanting your feelings to get in the way of your professionalism, especially at work.

“Oh, hey Yeonjun and friend. What can I get for you guys?” you ask, smiling a little too hard, trying hard to act normal.

“Two americanos pleasee,” he answers, prolonging the ‘please’ with a little pout. If not for your current situation you would’ve found Yeonjun adorable. Your heart can only feel a stinging sensation at the view of the two in front of you.

“Sounds good. They’ll be at the end of the counter for you guys,” you mumbled, not really making eye contact with Yeonjun.

He senses your change in mood but didn’t want to make a fuss with a line slowly forming behind him. It’s the lunch rush after all, so he brushes it off for the time being. Leaving you to work, making a mental note to ask you about it when you’re off.

..̇·𓏲 got your name tattooed in an arrow heart

Your shift felt longer than usual, probably due to the fact that you couldn’t get Yeonjun off your mind. The feeling in your chest still hasn’t subsided. Who are you to feel jealous about him hanging around other girls? Especially knowing that the two of you aren’t even together. With that tidbit of information circling your mind, you felt even more guilt for letting jealousy get the better of you.

Not bothering to even check your phone, you focus on getting home quickly, wanting to take a shower as soon as you got back. Walking down the sidewalk your legs felt like jelly, thankfully you didn’t live that far from work. It was already past sunset and the light summer breeze whistled with every step you took. Five minutes and you’re already standing in front of your building. A sigh of relief leaves your lips as you stare up at the brown bricks towering over you, imagining your bed and the comfort it brings you.

As you come closer to your building you see a figure leaning against the wall near the entrance. Your senses are heightened considering there usually aren’t many suspicious people who tend to hang around your building. The distance between you and this stranger has gotten smaller, revealing their identity. All the while your heart drops once again, but in relief.

“Y/n! Hey sorry if I freaked you out. You weren’t answering my texts I thought something bad happened to you.” Yeonjun explained, coming closer to you. His scent fills your senses, calming you down in just a blink of an eye. Thank god it was just him and not some stalker.

“Hi Junnie, sorry I didn’t answer you. I didn’t check my phone after I got off. How do you know where I live?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at him, pretending to be suspicious of his actions. Your arms are crossed as you face towards him, his eyes are round as a globe.

“U-uh sorry if I seem like a creep y/n-” he chuckles nervously as he scratches the back of his head “-I asked one of your friends because you usually shoot me text when you’re off work.”

“Oh ok, and no I don’t think your creepy. We’ve known eachother long enough to know these types of things anyways.” You comfort him, patting his back as you tilt your head towards the entrance. Silently asking if he wanted to come upstairs with you.

As if it didn’t exist in the first place, the feeling of jealousy brewing in your stomach disappeared. The only thing left was the warmth Yeonjun brought you, even though your relationship has been undefined. Unlabelled. He felt like a new world you had yet to explore. New experiences that you’re waiting to try. Although he was popular, especially with the women around campus, he was a total green flag.

Yeonjun nods his head, giving you his signature heart stopper smile as you lead him up to your apartment.

The familiar air of the building envelopes you, both of your footsteps echoing as you slowly ascend up the stairs. It wasn’t too long of a trip since you live on the second floor.

A warm hand intertwines with yours, causing the hair on your arms to stand. The chills running through your body like an electric shock. If you weren’t quick enough, you would’ve tripped on the next step; taking Yeonjun down with you. But you relax, squeezing his hand reassuringly as you allow him to continue to follow you.

What felt like an eternity, was in reality only a minute or two. You and Yeonjun finally made it up to the front door of your home. Your hands staying intertwined even when you fetch your keys from the bottom of your bag. As you unlock the door, your shoulders instantly relax. This is what you’ve been dreaming of since the moment you clocked into work.

“Well, this is me.” you turn to him, shyly smiling. It wasn’t much but you were happy here.

He chuckles. “Its cute. It suits your vibe.”

You can’t help but smile as you continue to drag him through the rest of your living space. He follows you obediently, taking in everything little by little. The whole place felt warm, cozy, familiar. Which is exactly how Yeonjun feels about you.

“Im gonna take a shower and change. You can watch something while you wait if you’d like.” You beam up at him with his hand still glued to yours, both sets of eyes twinkling against the ambient lighting. In this specific lighting you found Yeonjun to be so pretty. The dim lighting accentuating his features; the pink tint to his lips, the sharpness of his nose, the admiration in his eyes.

Distracted by your beauty, Yeonjun can only smile and nod.

..̇·𓏲 dont move, honey

As you leave your room, you see Yeonjun sitting on your couch. Looks like he’s made himself at home, you thought. Giggling quietly to yourself, you close the door shut. The sound causing Yeonjun to move his eyes over to you. His eyes are stuck on your figure, he didn’t expect you to walk out in such little clothing. The lump in his throat gets harder to swallow as you make your way to him.

Your definition of comfortable clothing is a oversized shirt and some sleep shorts. Yeonjun doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t want to be rude and keep staring but he just can’t tear his eyes off you. The way your wet hair is causing your shirt to dampen; giving a sneak peak at your breasts. Or the factt that your shorts barely covered any part of you, it almost looked like you weren’t wearing any at all. God, he felt like a pervert, you looked so good he couldn’t help but feel-

“Whatcha watching?” you inquire, sitting down beside him, dangerously close.

“Hmm just some random youtube video I stumbled upon.” he shrugs, trying to look non-chalant, but in reality, he was screaming at himself for being so turned on right now.

“Oh ok.” You turn your attention towards the TV, your body stiff as you think about the proximity between you and Yeonjun right now. It’s the frist time he’s been over, and it’s also the first time you’ve spent alone time in person. At this moment you can only wonder if he feels the same way you do.

With that thought, the memory of the girl who accompanied him to the cafe ressurfaces. You wonder if she was something more to him, of if they are just friends. Silently you pray its the latter. The feelings you’ve grown for Yeonjun seems to strengthen with everyday and night that you two talk. Although its a sad thought, he has every right to talk to other people; especially since neither of you stated that you would be exclusive. You aren’t really an expert in these types of situations anyways.

Ever since you were young, the only relationships you’ve experienced were through media or reading. Some of your friends would tell you about their dating experiences, but you had no stories of your own to share. You were never as outgoing as they were, and you also didn’t like the idea of going out as often as they did. Funnily enough you still ended up in a job where you had to talk to strangers. All of that had lead you to believe that you were better off living the single life, as sad as it sounds; it was true for a good portion of your life.

Until Yeonjun.

“H-hey can I ask you something?” you turn over to face your body towards Yeonjun, your eyes flashing with clear nervousness. He pauses the video turning towards you with curious eyes.

“Yeah of course, anything.” He smiles at you, his hand patting your bare thigh reassuringly. The action causing your cheeks heat up almost instantly.

“Who was that girl you were with earlier? I know it’s not my place to ask considering we’re just friends but I’ve been thinking about it all day. Obviously if you’re not comfy you do-,” He cuts you off, a giggle leaving his lips.

“Shes just a friend. She’s dating Soobin so you don’t need to worry.” he reassures, his hand coming back to your thigh again, squeezing it lightly, but this time he keeps it there. Your heartbeat is now in your throat as you look down at his hand. The veins running along his arms were prominent; the fact that his whole hand could grip more than half your thigh caused an unfamiliar heat to flow down to your lower body.

“O-oh, ok just pretend I didn’t ask that then,” you mumble, your eyes still focused on the way he was no rubbing your thigh. It felt good to experience this type of skinship with him, even if it wasn’t all that much. It still has you stumbling over your words.

“I thought you knew I liked you already y/n. I thought you knew from the moment I asked for your number.” he whispered, his face coming closer to yours.

Your breath hitched not being able to move your eyes away from his lips.

“U-um I didn’t know. No ones ever shown interest in me.” you confess, your head now turned down towards your hands as you play with them nervously.

“Thats ok baby, I’m interested in you. I like you.” Yeonjun states firmly. His finger carefully placed under your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his. The look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. This is the first time you’ve seen Yeonjun look so serious. You couldn’t help but gulp.

“I like you too Junnie.” you whisper, your eyes locked on his. Smiling, Yeonjun strokes your cheek with his thumb. The warmth of his hand still burning onto your thigh.

“Fuck y/n It’s so hard for me to hold back when you call me that.” His tone is low. Staring at your lips, he begins to trace their outline.

“What? Junnie?” you provoke, matching his tone. A groan almost leaves his lips but instead his grip on your thigh only tightens.

“May I kiss you y/n?” Yeonjun’s polite words are a stark contracts as to all the thoughts brewing in his head. You seem to have lost your voice, only nodding as you slowly try to close the gap.

With Yeonjun’s lips on yours he grips your waist pulling you onto his lap in a swift motion. You can’t help but yelp at how easily he can move you around. It was like you were his own personal ragdoll. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he deepens the kiss.

This is your first time kissing someone but you’re glad your first is Yeonjun. Not only do you have feelings for him, but he tasted so good. It felt so wrong but right at the exact same time.

The two of you continue to kiss passionately, and you feel yourself naturally move with the flow. Your hips starting to move back and forth slightly as Yeonjun guides you with his large hands. A tiny gasp escapes your lips as you feel something hard rub against your core. Although this was all new to you, it was like you already knew what to do. Yeonjun takes the opportunity to allow his tongue to enter your mouth. This surprises you, pulling away you say,

“Junnie I-i’ve never done anything like this before.” you squeaked, burying your face into his neck. He rubs his hands up and down the sides of your thighs, soothing you.

“Thats alright princess, I can show you how. Will you let me?” he asks, his hands moving to take your face away from the space between his shoulder and neck. Brushing the hair out of your face, he tucks the strands behind your ear. The action in itself can only cause your cheeks to burn a deep red. Everything Yeonjun did always had you feeling like the most cherished girl in the world. You can only nod as his actions have left you speechless.

“With your words princess.” he demands, a hand snakes down to your hips giving you an encouraging squeeze.

“Yes Junnie, please show me how,” you murmur. Steadily, you move closer to him wanting to close the gap between you two again. You want to feel the same way you did when your bodies were pressed up against eachother.

“Alright darling, just let me know if it gets too much for you ok? I’ll only go as far as you let me.”

“Yes Junnie.”

“Good girl.” his hands are back on your hips, his lips back on yours. The wet sounds coming from both your mouths have you riled up. Yeonjuns back to moving your hips back and forth, desperately wanting to increase the friction. The sensation of his hard dick rubbing against you was addicting. Your thin shorts not really leaving anything up to imagination.

Yeonjun can only groan, the feeling of your warm cunt against his cock is driving his crazy. He can only wonder how it must feel to be inside you.

“F-feel’s good Jun.” you moan into the kiss, your hips now moving on their own accord.

“You like that princess?” he chuckles, peppering kisses along your neck and collarbone, leaving love bites in his tracks. Slowly his hands creep up under your shirt. It lifts ups as his hands move higher. They almost hit your bare breasts, but before he proceeds he looks up to you for approval. You can only nod, dazed from all your senses going into overdrive.

Yeonjun doesn’t waste any time and removes your shirt. You’re left bare in front of him, the blush on your cheeks still noticeable in the dim lighting.

“You’re beautiful love,” he assures, going back to his ministrations. Kissing up and down your neck until he reaches your breasts. He takes one in his hand and the other one in his mouth. You can only moan, your head lolling back from the pleasure. Hands gripping onto his hair for some type of balance.

Yeonjun is rock hard under you, the pulse in his dick only getting more noticable the more he pleasures you. He wants to show you how much he wants you, to show you how much you deserved to be cherished.

Tongue swirling around your nipple, your moans become less shy, the feeling of being pleasured taking over you. Yeonjuns mouth moving onto the other nipple as he picks you up. You yelp from the sudden movement but wrap your legs around his waist anyways.

His feet padding towards your bedroom, he opens the door. Gently he places you on your mattress, situating himself between your legs.

“Are you still doing ok over there sweetheart?” he inquires.

“Really ok Junnie, please keep going. Want more.” you whimper, your elbows stablizing you as you get a good view of him. He begins to remove your shorts, your pussy glistening from how wet he’s gotten you. A groan bubbles up in Yeonjuns throat; just looking at you in this light could make him cum.

He makes himself comfortable with his head between your thighs. Taking things slow, he uses one finger to play with your entrance. Rubbing you all over, collecting your wetness before he finally pushes a finger in.

You moan, your elbows collapsing from the pleasure. You grip your sheets as he pumps his finger in and out of you. The lewd sounds of your soaking core bouncing off the walls. After a few more pumps he adds in another finger, the stretch burning so good.

He looks up at you to see you whimpering for him, his name leaving your mouth in what sounded like a sweet melody. The way your brows scrunch with his every moves turns him on even more. Watching you coming undone on his fingers is a sight he wants to see everyday if he could.

“Let me taste you baby.” Yeonjun says with a deep tone to his voice. Every word coming out of his mouth is dripping with lust. With that warning he places a kiss on your clit, your hands moving from your sheets to grip his hair. He continues to kitten lick and suck on your sensitive bud, the pleasure sending you to another universe.

“O-oh Junnie, it feels so good.” you squeak out. He places your legs over his shoulders, delving into you more. He’s properly eating you out now, his fingers pumping in and out of your wet heat while licking you all at the same time. As he goes on, an unfamiliar feeling starts to brew in your stomach; growing stronger as more time passed.

“I can feel your pussy gripping my fingers baby, cum for me. I know you can do it, just let go.” Yeonjun purrs, his words of encouragement is your last straw before your orgasm.

“Good girl, so good for me. You’re doing so well my love.” he’s praising you as he moves back up to your face. Hes smirking at you as he hovers over your naked body. His own body still in between your legs, the lower half of his face glistening with your juices.

“Can I fuck you princess?” he asks.

The vulgar words spewing from his mouth, the way he asks so nicely, the way he calls you such sweet names; the polarity of it all gives you whiplash.

“Yes please, wanna feel you inside me.” you mumble and you press kissing all along his face, moving down towards his neck. You found it so attractive how he always asks for your consent.

He quickly undresses, both your clothes randomly thrown around the room. Situating himself between your legs once again, he sits himself on his heels. Pumping his length a few times he then rubs the tip up and down your slit, collecting your juices. The squelching sound of your lips rubbing against his him is like music to his ears.

Yeonjun finally enters you, causing your back to arch with every inch he slowly puts in. You’ve only heard about sex through friends, but being able to experience it yourself is on another level. The stretch of his cock pushing inside you stings more than when he was fucking you with his fingers.

“Mmm Junnie I think you’re too big,” you whimper while hes pressing kisses all over your face to soothe you.

“It’s ok love, it’ll feel better as it goes on ok?” Yeonjun groans, as he keeps pushing into you. He continues till hes dick is buried deep inside you. Stilling for a moment, he lets you get used to the feeling. The scrunched up look on your face begins to relax, giving him a signal to start thrusting into you.

“Fuck baby you feel so good around me.” he whispers.

At first hes slow, but the sound of your wet pussy getting fucked by his dick starts to fog his thoughts. Your moans increase in volume, his name falling off your lips repeatedly.

“Junnie, hmmm it feels so good. Faster please.” you beg as your wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him down for another kiss. Who is he to deny you?

He fucks into you faster, this time you can hear the slapping sounds as his length goes in and out of you. One of his hands moving between the two of you to rub your clit and his thrusts to turn sloppy.

Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head the more Yeonjun pumps his dick into you. You could feel his length kiss your cervix with every thrust. This is all so new to you, and the only thing you could do is keep moaning and telling him how good it felt.

“This pussy was made for me. Isn’t it baby?” he states rather than asks.

“Y-yes Jun.” you’re a stuttering mess, you could barely answer him as it is.

“Taking me so well princess. I wanna fuck you like this all the time now.” he praises again, taking your thighs and pressing them towards your stomach. The new angle causes you to whimper, you can feel him so much deeper. Your gummy walls are practically suctioning him.

You moan in response. He’s fucked you dumb at this point, cock drunk with every move he makes inside your wet cunt.

“Can I cum inside you baby?” he asks in between kisses.

“Please Junnie, wanna feel you cum in me.” you moan, the feeling of your clit being stimualted as he fucks you is causing you to see stars. You cum around him, gripping his dick as you ride out your second orgasm. As if on queue Yeonjun relases his cum inside you, halting his thrusts. He continues to kiss you making sure you feel loved and wanted, his member still buried inside you.

“You were amazing for your first time princess.” he praises you once again, you kiss him in response.

“Lets do it again please.” you giggle.

Yeonjun kisses up your neck, his cock still rock hard.

“Whatever you want love.” he responds, thrusting into you again.

#yeonjun #choi yeonjun #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun smut #txt smut #txt fic #yeonjun hard hours #wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {series: txt as 5sos songs}#wonustars ✧ ﾟ. {works}

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itsbeeble · 6 months ago

Text

Cheerleaders and Stereotypes

SUMMARY: Choi San isn't an idiot. He's also very patient. How long will it take for you to let him admit that he bagged the hottest cheerleader in the world?

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut

PAIRING: Choi San x afab!reader

WC: ~4.7k

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: reader is dumb, relationship is actually a little toxic I won't even lie, san tries to make reader jealous and it works, p in v sex, fingering, size kink, SIZE. KINK., softdom!san, big dick!san, um reader struggles to ride san idk, bulge kink, san lowkey mocks the reader a bit, insecurities, arguing, san lowkey is way too patient for reader, idk i think that's it

A/N: h-heyyyyy *chuckles nervously* Everyone say welcome back tumblr user itsbeeble! Everyone say thank you @from-izzy and @sanaxo-o for distracting me while I was writing and to ally for supporting me through a very very very very long writers block hahahahhahahhahhahha....haha...ha

Choi San, despite popular belief, was not an idiot. Not really at least. Unfortunately for him, he seemed to fit most of the stereotypes of a college athlete.

He was fit, that was without a doubt and he would not deny it. Six days a week in the gym after football practice did him good. Toned arms that hardly fit any of his shirts, the fabric stretching and nearly tearing every time he got dressed. Thick thighs that bulged against every pair of jeans or sweatpants, noticeable from the stands on game day and having girls swooning as he walked. Not to mention his ass. Had he not built up a brick wall called “confidence” the comments made about his ass would have had him blushing and covering his cheeks rather than smirking.

God, that smirk. He flashed it casually to anyone who looked at him— students, professors, the crowd, the opposing team, the cheerleaders. It was a near unfortunate bonus that he was just as hot as he was fit. That stupid chiselled jaw, the dimples, and his tall frame. It’s irritating.

At least, it’s irritating for you.

See, being the supposedly stupid captain of the football team came with many stereotypes.

Dating the captain of the cheerleading squad was just one more, even if no one knew.

No one important, that is.

“Sannie,” Yewon was practically hanging off San’s arm, her manicured nails lightly scratching the tan skin. The sing-song tone of her voice made you cringe, the noise scraping at your eardrums and creating a dull throb in your already aching skull. Your back was turned to the pair, but San could tell you were likely trying to grow eyes in the back of your skull to watch the interaction. That stupid, casual smirk of his was trained on the newer cheerleader, her eyes big and filled with faux innocence. “How did you get so big?”

A poorly stifled snort from another girl on the squad, Sihyeon. A good friend of yours who knows exactly what goes on between you and San behind closed doors, and knows exactly what he’s planning. That little snort has you turning the daggers you call eyes onto her, the girls around her shifting uncomfortably at the now tense energy around you.

Jealousy. That’s what San’s goal is and you know it. He’s pulled this trick several times before, trying to egg you on and expose the relationship that you’d chosen to hide. So he’d play stupid, that same act that everyone believes is a poor reality. The dumb, hot captain of the football team who can’t seem to get a girlfriend despite the girls falling at his feet for a moment of his attention. All he wants is for you to finally get jealous enough to rip that girl off his arm and finally stake your claim publicly.

Unfortunately, you’re patient.

Fortunately, so is he.

He smirks down at her, his arm grazing the skin of her lower back that her top doesn’t cover. You can practically hear her breathing stutter, and your grip on your pom poms tightens.

“Never skip a day at the gym, never skip practice, throw a good party on the weekends.” His answer is…lackluster at best. Your nose wrinkles, knowing he did it on purpose. The idiotic responses are for you, in hopes that you’ll turn around and yell at him for pretending to be a moron even though he’s one of the best students in the Kinesiology department.

“You’ll have to coach me through a workout one day,” Yewon grabs San’s arm tighter when she sees you turn to face the pair.

“Maybe I should take you up on that.” San isn’t looking at her, not even a brief glance down to acknowledge that she’s there. No, his eyes are trained on you. Daring you to say something, anything.

Do it.

You know you want to.

Stake the claim.

You know I’m yours. Why not let everyone else know?

You open your mouth to speak, and he quirks an eyebrow at you. Do it, do it, do it.

“Kim Yewon,” the words are laced with venom and she goes rigid. “Break ended ten minutes ago.”

“I was talking to Sannie!” She glared at you, and you almost laughed.

“Sannie,” you mocked, watching a pout form on your boyfriend’s lips, “has his own practice to get to.”

“Our practice ended half an hour ago.” He argued, toeing the limits of how far he can push you before you finally break.

“Then leave.”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay and talk with Yewon.” He challenged. Sihyeon grimaces behind you, watching as San digs himself a grave not even he can climb out of.

The two of you stare each other down for a few moments, a mix of emotions running through you. You know that he’s challenging you and trying to get a rise out of you, but you know better. You know you can’t challenge him like that without exposing your relationship— the one thing in your life that you want to keep to yourself for just a little while longer.

You’re the first to cave, your shoulders slumping just enough to be noticed by San, and his eyebrows knit together.

“Do what you want. Practice is done for the day.”

The two-story rental house you share with Sihyeon and a few other girls from the squad is eerily silent. The air conditioning and the sound of you quietly walking around your room are the only things keeping you from the thoughts in your head.

Did San take Yewon up on the ‘offer’?

Did you take it too far?

Should you have just caved for him?

What if he’s sick of this? Of the secret meet-ups and the acting?

Something hits the window as you’re walking past it, and a loud squeak escapes you. You whip your head around just as, what you now realize is, a rock hits the window. Not a large rock. Small, just enough to be noticeable and visible to the naked eye as it tumbles back down to the front lawn. Another rock as you take the two steps you need in order to peer down and see San with a pile of rocks on the ground next to him, a fourth in his hand ready to be thrown if needed. He grins when he sees you, tossing the rock up and down a couple of times before taking aim.

You fling your window open, scowling down at him before he winds his hand back.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Choi San.” He pouts up at you, but all you do is glare.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

“Ring the doorbell, dumbass. Like a normal person.”

Much to your annoyance, San just grins and drops the rock. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You lean against the window frame, arms folded as you run your tongue over your lip in thought. “Shouldn’t you be with Yewon?”

You can see San’s nose wrinkle at the thought, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he makes his way to the tree he’d been using as a sort of ladder to get into your room. He’d been doing that since you met, since the first time you ever slept together. He’d never been a fan of the whole…front door tactic. Your father would probably hate him. He’d think San was no good, a troublemaker if anything. You would disagree.

Maybe your relationship was more stereotypical than you were willing to believe.

San’s shoes are louder than either of you had expected as he jumps down from the tree, grimacing at the noise he makes.

“If my neighbors didn’t know any better, the police would’ve been here by now.” You shuffle back as your boyfriend tucks awkwardly through your window. His large frame pushes against the frame, the vinyl creaking against him as it struggles to stay in one piece. His neck cranes to look up at you, his feet hitting the ground with another loud thump.

“Glad they know better then.” He pushes a hand through his hair, the silky black strands falling loosely over his forehead in spite of his best efforts.

A moment of silence falls between you, and you take this time to sit at your dresser. Makeup wipes and cleansers are scattered in front of you from when you’d made a weak attempt at distracting yourself from, well, the problem you’d created.

San sits on your bed behind you, watching every move you make. He sits quietly, like a child in a timeout chair. He waits, letting you make the calls. You never knew why he started doing that— started letting you take the lead in every argument, even the petty nonsensical ones.

“You never answered my question,” your eyes are trained on him through the mirror. He presses his lips together, loosely folding his legs.

“Are you really that upset?” The question is innocent enough, but it brings back the previous irritation from the field.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My boyfriend is openly flirting with other people knowing that I’ll get pissed off. You flaunt that knowledge like it’s your fucking birthright or whatever. Do you really think I’m not gonna get upset about it?” You put your moisteurizer down with more force than you’d wanted to, shaking your dresser a bit. San flinches at the sudden noise, gnawing at his lip in thought.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Are you, though?” Your eyes are narrowed as you turn around in your chair. A momentary pause as San lets the words sink in. He’s patient. So patient with you, even when you feel you don’t deserve it. “You act like you don’t give two shits about our relationship, and then show up at my fucking window acting like nothing is wrong and that the world is all sunshine and fucking rainbows. You go out of your way to piss me off, make me angry at my own squad, just for what? So you can get a good fuck at the end of the day?”

Sometimes you forget that, while Choi San is patient, that patience runs thin.

He isn’t stupid. He knows that this outburst, this frustration, isn’t just at him, but the more you spit your venom at him, taking your anger and misdirecting it, the more his patience begins to run out. You can see it in the clenching of his fists, the ticking of his jaw, and the glare in his eyes.

Unfortunately, you’re far too lost in your mind that you can’t see the way San rises from his seat on your bed and takes a step toward you. Then another, and another, and suddenly he’s right in front of you.

“Sometimes I think that the idiotic front that you put on isn’t exactly a front at all—” You spin around, expecting him to still be on your bed. A loud yelp escapes you when you come face-to-face with his well-built frame. “Jesus Christ, San! Why the fuck are you right behi—”

“Shut up,” he says it so simply, so calmly that you almost think he’s not being serious.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” You snarl, and San scoffs.

“Do you even realize why we’re in this situation to begin with?”

“Yeah, you were flirting with my fucking—”

“Don’t blame me for your fucking problems,” San spits out. Your eyes widen and you take a step back. “I’ve been going along with this stupid fucking secret relationship for who knows how long, and all I’ve gotten in return is you bitching about me wanting you to just come out with it!”

“You know I want to keep—”

“You want to keep your love life private,” San interrupts and flings his hands into the air. “I get it. I understand, Y/N. That doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“It isn’t just—” you huff, pressing your hand to your forehead in a poor attempt at calming yourself down. “It isn’t just the fact that I want to keep us private, Sannie. I just— I don’t—”

Your eyes are welling up with tears, and you blink a few times to force them back. San pulls you toward him, his hand practically engulfing yours as he tugs you onto his lap. Your legs are on either side of his, and he laces his fingers with yours, resting them between the two of you.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart.” He murmurs, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Let me help you.”

You shake your head, and his chest rises and falls with a quiet sigh. “I’m just— I’m just so sick of— of everything.”

San presses a little kiss to your forehead, tugging one of his hands free from yours and lacing it through the strand of hair on the back of your head. He doesn’t move for a few moments, placing another kiss on your forehead and then another. He waits for you to calm yourself and gather your thoughts.

“Can—” your voice is quieter, a bit more shaky than it was just moments ago. “Can you kiss me?” San smiles, his lips still just millimeters from your forehead.

“Tell me what’s wrong first.” Your hips shift against his, and you drop your head against the column of his neck. Your breath is warm against his skin, and the scent of your shampoo begins to flood his senses. His hand tugs at your hair, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re absolutely insatiable, you know that? Tell me what’s wrong or I’m leaving.”

You can’t fight the little whine that’s pulled out of you. Not that you wanted to. You wanted him. You wanted Choi San so badly that it hurt.

“I was— I was mad because I didn’t want…” You can hardly form a sentence, too distracted by the gentle tugs at your hair and the way San’s other hand has drifted to your hip, drawing circles underneath the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“What didn’t you want, sweetheart? Tell me.” San pulls your head away from his neck, holding back a grin at the near-glazed look in your eyes.

“I didn’t want to be part of anymore…stereotypes. We already fit so many, I just—I just wanted to hold that one back for a bit longer.” You whine, your lips falling into a pout that San just wants to kiss away. Instead, he smiles.

“Was that so hard, pretty girl? So much fighting just for a silly little reason like that?” Your pout deepens, and he sighs. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And nothing is gonna change that, no matter how many stereotypes we fall under. You understand?”

“Yes,” San smiles, stroking your hip and squeezing it.

“‘Yes’ what, baby?” Your eyes are glossy now, your lips parted slightly in your daze.

“Yes sir.”

Despite San’s patience running thin, he always recovers it with ease. Patience is what he’s known for in class, on the field, in your relationship, and in your bedroom.

He can edge you for hours, cooing at the way you beg for him, beg for that sweet release, for just one more finger, please just one more.

“Pretty girl,” he strokes your cheek, letting his hand slide down your spine to rest against the small of your back. You’re writhing beneath him, trying desperately to bring your hips up just enough for him to hit that sweet spot inside of you but failing miserably. “I don’t think you can handle anymore.”

Only two of his fingers sit inside you, but it’s more than enough to stretch you out, to provide you with the stimulation you need to go right over the edge—

“San—sir, please.” Your hands grip the pillow beneath your head tightly, nails digging into the fabric so tight you’re afraid it might tear. “Pl—Please lemme cum, I prom—promise I’ll b—be good. Please,” You’re nearly hysterical, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he plunges his fingers in and out of you, his thumb dancing over your clit but not quite giving you that extra stimulation. Not that you need it with the way he grinds the tips of his fingers into the spongy spot just within his reach.

“You wanna cum that bad?” San leans down, his chest pressed against your back and his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that. Beg for it. Scream. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

Patience is a virtue you haven’t quite learned yet. What you have learned? You’re extraordinarily good at making Choi San cave for you.

“Sir,” you plead, pushing your hips back against his hand just enough. There’s a burning feeling in your stomach, the knot winding tighter and tighter until you almost can’t take it. “Please. I’m so so—sorry for yelling. Please I’ve been so good for you. I can take it. Please let me take it. Want you s—so bad. Want you to ma—make me cum. Want you, Sannie! Please, please make me cum. Want you to fuck me so bad, ple—please!”

For a moment, San’s hand stills inside you. For a moment all you can hear is your desperate whining and your boyfriend attempting to steady his breathing.

Then he’s ripping his fingers out of your sopping cunt and rolling you onto your back. His frame looms over you in a way that has your body quivering with anticipation, eyes searching yours for…something that you can’t figure out in your lust-filled haze.

“Such a pretty girl,” San murmurs, pressing his palm at the base of your stomach, one hand nearly covering the expanse of it. “So small, so good for me. So good for Sannie, hm?”

“Yes!” You grab his wrist, nails digging so tightly you’re afraid you might draw blood. “Please, wanna be so good for you Sannie!”

He sighs, prying your hand away from his wrist and pinning it to the mattress. “You say that, but I don’t know if I believe you.”

A sob pushes out of you, your back arching into him. He catches you before you can lower back down to the bed, his arm looping around you to keep you pressed against his chest while he sits back. You’re right where you started— on the bed, straddling him with tears running down your cheeks— but this time you’re both completely undressed. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, little twitches being the only indication of any impatience. You try to roll your hips against him, trying anything to get that friction back. San clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs, stilling your hips with one hand. “Thought you said you’d be good for me.”

“I—I will!” You grab his shoulders, leaning your face up to his, trying desperately to kiss him— to do anything that might sway his decision. “I’m sorry, sir! I promise I just— I just wanted—”

“I know,” he kisses you gently, smiling softly, deceptively. “I know you just wanted to cum all over your Sannie’s lap. Been edgin’ you for so long, haven’t I? You deserve to cum for being so…patient.” You let out a relieved sob as San releases your hip and grabs his cock. He guides it through your folds briefly, soaking it in your arousal and pumping his hand up and down his shaft to thoroughly lubricate it. “You’re gonna prove to me that you can be good, baby. Okay?”

“Yes, yes Sannie!” You lift your hips just enough for him to align his tip with your entrance, almost starting to cry again at the feeling. He helps you sink, knowing that two fingers weren’t enough for you. It never is. No matter how much he fucks you, it’s always a tight fit for you, not that you ever complain. You never complain about how big San is compared to you. He’s caught you drooling over this size of his dick more times than he can count, usually trying to talk you out of riding him out of fear of hurting you. But not today. No, today he’s giving you exactly what you wanted.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encourages. “Fuck yourself dumb on Sannie’s cock.”

The look in your eyes becomes almost animalistic. You shift your body a bit, steadying your hands on his shoulders, and lift your hips until just his tip remains inside of you. San can feel the way you’re clenching around his tip, knows you’re doing it intentionally, and he lets his head fall back.

When you sink intohim for the first time, you emit a strangled gasp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your nails digging into your lover’s shoulders.

“F—Fuck Sannie!” You bite down on your lip, lifting your hips again and dropping back down. “Mmph—fuck you’re too big!”

“You wanted this, sweetheart,” San tells you, rolling his head to the side and groaning as you continue to struggle with riding him. You try so, so hard to build a steady rhythm, but your legs are shaking and your breath is already gone. “I thought cheerleaders were supposed to have good stamina.”

“No—Not when their boyfriend has a f—fucking huge dick!” You cry out, giving up and grinding your hips against his. The steady rolling of your hips relieves the burn just a bit, and you moan as the tip of his cock grinds into that spot with more strength than his fingers did just minutes ago. “Fuck, I can fe—feel you in my stomach!”

San lifts his head at that, a new hunger in his eyes and he leans you back. You slow your hips at the sudden movement, furrowing your brows while you watch him. He kisses his teeth and places a firm slap on the side of your hip.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He grips your hip tightly in both hands, forcing you to keep riding him. “Keep going, sweetheart. Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

You do, your hips picking up a steady pace with the help of one of his hands to guide you along. His other hand presses against your stomach, and you hear his breathing hitch.

“Baby,” he takes your hand from his shoulder, squeezing it gently as he guides it to where his hand was previously. “Feel right here.”

You hesitate just a moment, and he looks down at you, smiling encouragingly.

Then you feel it.

The bulge in your stomach where the tip of his cock reaches as far as it can possibly go.

“You feel that, baby?” San presses your hand down and you both let out a simultaneous moan at the feeling. The white-hot pleasure builds back up in the pit of your stomach, the loosened knot returning with renewed fervor and you know San can tell. You know that he’s close too, his hips thrusting up to meet yours halfway. “God, you feel so good. How did I get so fucking lucky, huh?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond. The pleasure is blinding. All you can feel, see, hear, and smell is San. He clouds your thoughts, your senses, your very being. The pleasure is winding up, drawing that knot tighter and tighter and tighter—

“C—Cumming, San!” You arch into him, and he holds your hip to keep you moving. “Fuck, fuck I’m cumming!”

“I know, pretty girl,” he grunts, his thrusts stuttering. “Fuck, I’m close. Keep going baby, wanna cum with you.”

Your hips are moving slower, your muscles burning and you can’t stop yourself from forcing San back until he’s laying against the bed. Your hands find purchase on his chest, sweat beading on your forehead with the effort to keep moving, to keep riding him until you’re both forced over the edge you’d been begging for.

San’s thumb drifts across your hip, finding purchase on your swollen clit and rubbing sloppy circles into it until you’re sobbing again, sobbing his name and begging for that sweet release.

When it hits you, it’s blinding. Stars spark behind your eyes, your head tossed back and sweet cries pulled from the depths of your chest. His hips thrust into yours one more time, his eyes trained on how you arch your back and twitch with your release, and then he’s cumming. Thick globs of cum fill you up to the brim, seeping out from the seams of your cunt and mixing with your release. You let yourself collapse against his chest, practically gasping for air and shaking from the effort of riding him.

“You finally got what you wanted,” San murmurs, resting one of his hands on the small of your back as his cock softens in you. “You finally got to ride me.”

“Never…never doing that again,” you mutter back, placing a kiss on the base of his neck. “Absolutely…not.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually letting this happen.” San is grinning ear to ear as he drives you to campus, his free hand holding yours tightly. You purse your lips, refusing to admit defeat.

“This doesn’t mean I want everyone knowing—”

“Bullshit,” San interrupts with a grin. “You want everyone to know that I bagged the hottest cheerleader in the world.”

“You didn’t bag shit, Choi San. And if you say that you ‘bagged’ me to anyone on the football team,” your eyes turn to daggers as you jab a finger into his shoulder, “I will end your bloodline where it stands. Your mom can say ‘bye’ to any chances of a grandchild from us.”

San grimaces, but it’s replaced by a radiant smile as he pulls into the parking garage closest to your building. “You can make as many threats as you want, sweetheart, but you and I both know you won’t risk that. You love getting fucked after dealing with Yewon every day.”

He opens your door for you, beaming as he helps you out of his car.

“I’ll make you a deal, sweetheart.”

“Will you now?” Your response is sarcastic but San ignores it.

“You let me show you off as much as I want, and I bitch out Yewon today.”

You don’t even have to think about your response, a grin replacing your scowl.

“That sounds like a damn good deal, Choi San.”

“Sannie!”

Yewon’s grating voice has never sounded so fucking heavenly in your ears, knowing exactly what’s going to happen next. San is already at your side, rifling through your bag for the extra granola bar he knows you have. He grimaces at the sound, his eyes almost begging you to help him, but you shake your head.

“You dug your own grave, Sannie.” A quick pat on his shoulder and his fate is decided for him.

“Yewon,” he greets the girl, continuing to rifle through the bag. “Can I help you?”

The disinterest in his voice didn’t deter her, not that anyone was surprised. The cheer squad watched the younger, newer, dumber member as she stumbled through her flirtations, complimenting him on things he didn’t need nor want to be complimented on while searching for a fucking granola bar.

“Yewon,” San finally interrupts the girl, rising with the snack in his hand and glaring down at her. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not interested.”

The shock on her face made you smile. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was a bitch named Karma. Or, maybe, you were sick of the shitty stereotypes that you always seemed to fall victim to.

“But you—you always—”

“I was trying to make my girlfriend jealous of me, as shitty as that is,” San pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs. “But I’ve already got myself a cheerleader, Kim Yewon. And she’s the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. Plus, she’s hot as fuck,” San grins at you, but you can only roll your eyes.

“I said no—”

“You said I couldn’t tell people I bagged you,” it takes him three steps to reach your side and grab your chin. “Not that I couldn’t call you the hottest cheerleader in the world. No offense, Sihyeon.”

“None taken,” your best friend waves her hand dismissively. “I’m just glad you two finally got your heads out of your asses.”

“Shut up, Sihyeon.” You scowl, but San is quick to bend down, hunching at the shoulders to reach your height and kiss you firmly on the mouth. It’s a searing kiss, more than he said he would do in front of the squad, but you let him have his moment.

You’d made him wait long enough.

542 notes · View notes

httpiastri · 1 year ago

Text

this christmas – op81

ski slopes, mistletoes, and the guy you've been crushing on for years – what could be better?

genre: fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers!au, smut (just one scene in the end, you can skip it if you want)

pairing: female leclerc!reader x oscar piastri

other characters: lando norris, charles leclerc, george russell & mundt, alex albon & lily muni he, pierre gasly & kika cerqueira gomes

warnings: mentions of alcohol, smut, not much more i think

word count: 13.8k (LMAO)

requested?: yes!!

author’s note: hello hello!! a lot to say about this one. first of all, thank you to @be-your-coffee-pot for this request, and i apologize for not getting to it earlier than now. for everyone’s knowledge, the request was sent in to me in august, so… yeah. i know it’s not exactly what you asked for, but i hope you like it anyway <3

second of all, i feel pretty happy about some of these scenes, but some… not so much. some of the fillers have parts that i really despite, but i don’t really have time to rewrite since christmas is like 2 days away lol. also, my description of the reader’s relationship to charles is not my best work, idk why he barely even appears, and i’m also not sure why logan isn’t in this...

third of all, my red divider things make my posts disappear from the tags, so i didn’t put any in this time. it looks bad, i know, but idk how to fix it. if anyone does, please let me know. :)

and lastly: i only proofread this whole thing once yesterday, but tumblr was being a bitch and i got so frustrated that i do not have the energy to proofread it again. so please, if you happen to find any spelling or grammar mistakes, i would be very thankful if you let me know. <3

hope you all enjoy !!

december 12th, 2:11pm

oscar has always loved winter.

it started in his childhood; the holiday films he'd seen as a child, the way it always seemed to magically snow right on christmas eve really started something in him. it hadn't been common for him to get snow back home in australia when he was younger but once he moved to the england, he got to experience it quite a lot. playing, fighting and just existing in the snow was like an unfilled childhood need that stayed with him until his older years.

he loved spending christmas at home with his family, but ever since he got to experience real christmases with snow, trees and cozy darkness, he craved it more than he craved lying on the beach in his swimming trunks.

so when he was asked to come along to the swiss alps for a vacation during the winter break, he packed his bags right away. he and lando just happened to book the same flight, and they both arrived at the airport around noon, getting into a cab to take them to the accommodation together.

when they arrive outside the cottage, oscar is in shock; it is enormous. he had imagined just a tiny, cute little house – not that he was sure how seven drivers and a couple of girlfriends would fit in a "tiny" house – but he was far from right.

him and lando are the second pair to arrive, just about an hour after alex and lily, who are the self-proclaimed 'hosts' as they took care of all of the booking and planning.

"we thought that one would be lando's room," alex starts, pointing down the hallway. "since it's far away from everyone else, and i'm sure we all would prefer to actually get some sleep during the night time."

"oh, shut it..." lando mumbles, shoving his friend on his shoulder.

"this one can be yours, oscar," lily says, moving in the opposite direction and gesturing to another room. then, she points at the one right next to it. "and this one has two beds, so it's for charles and his sister."

oscar's ears perk up. "y/n is going to be here?" he speaks almost took quickly, making the other three turn to look at him.

"oh, i thought you knew..." lily has an apologetic look on her face.

"i must've forgotten," oscar answers, though he's completely sure no one told him about it. there's no way he would forget you. "don't worry, it's cool."

the hosts continue to move down the hallway, and the mclaren boys are just about to follow along when lando elbows oscar's side playfully. "it's cool?"

oscar raises an eyebrow, trying to keep calm. "what?"

"the youngest leclerc coming along?" a grin takes up lando's entire face. "it's just cool? is she cool, or-"

"goodbye, lando." oscar shakes his head, darting towards alex and lily again. he takes a few deep breaths, hoping the blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks isn't too obvious.

unfortunately, lando didn't need to see the blush to know. he has caught his teammate staring at you too many times over the season, and he is fully aware of the way oscar always is suddenly interested in the conversation whenever you're the topic of discussion.

lando knows everything. and this christmas, he's going to be the best wingman the world has ever seen.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 12:53am

it's past midnight when you and charles arrive. your flight had been delayed, and then the gps had stopped working all of a sudden. and then, charles just refused to drive any faster than 30 km/h, saying it was too dangerous. as if he didn't drive cars in ten times that speed without even flinching.

you assume the whole house is sleeping already, so you and charles both sneak in as quietly as you can. someone – lily, assumably – has left you a note on the front door, guiding you to your shared room. it all goes smoothly – until charles trips over the doorframe, dropping his bag onto the floor as he tries not to fall down. the sound rattles through the hallway and you flinch, stopping in your tracks as you hope no one's woken up. but just a second later, the door opposite yours opens and a head sticks out.

oscar.

your heart softens and your shoulders relax when your gaze meets his. your soft smile is mirrored on his face, the sleepiness evident in his droopy eyes and the way strands of his bedhead point in every direction.

he looks like he's just about to say something when charles speaks up. "sorry, man! were you asleep?"

he walks up to the australian, giving him a firm handshake and a pat on the back. oscar shakes his head. "i was up reading," his huskey accent is like music to your ears. "i thought i heard some rustling out here, and then..." he nods his head toward the suitcase on the floor.

your brother laughs as he steps back, walking into the room with the "leclerc" sign. "well, i'll let you get back to that then," he says, picking up the bag from the floor and looking back one last time. "good night."

and then, you were just two.

you and oscar stand still for a moment, just watching each other. then, he opens up his arms, welcoming you into his embrace. you step forward and drape your arms around his shoulders as his wrap around your waist, and you let out a content sigh. he's warm, comfortable, and the way he squeezes your body has your mind spinning.

"it's been a while," he says when you part from the hug, a soft grin playing on his lips.

"like a month," you chuckle, crossing your arms over your chest.

"a month has never felt this long before."

you're not sure when your crush on him started forming.

as someone who's always been interested in racing, even in the series your brother isn't in, you've kept up with most results and championships – including oscar's seasons in f2 and f3. after seeing oscar, the unstoppable rookie who completely crushed his season in f3, you made sure to keep an eye at him in f2 the following year. and it's easy to say that you liked what you saw. especially in jeddah.

you'd meet him occasionally around the paddock the following year, just giving him a sweet smile and a quick greeting as if it was no big deal. but you always found yourself squealing on the inside and taking deep breaths to stay calm whenever you made eye contact with him.

then came 2023 and his debut in f1. yet again, he exceeded everyone's expectations, performing better than most drivers who'd been on the grid for years. with his permanent role on the grid, he was around more – and so were you. it wasn't uncommon for the two of you to bump into each other, around the paddock or during media days or in afterparties, and now you tried not to shy away.

talking to oscar was always simple. he was easygoing, it all seemed effortless, and you felt more relaxed. before you knew it, you could chat about racing strategies and tyre management for twenty minutes before a member of the mclaren staff interrupted you, rushing oscar away somewhere. you got to know each other slowly throughout the season, though never really going further than some friendly conversations, but you felt happy knowing that you'd taken the first step towards getting closer to him.

"so..." he starts. "you've been good?"

you nod. "yeah, a lot of studying but it's been alright. you?"

"yeah."

and there it is again, that slightly awkward silence. it's natural, you haven't seen each other since that night in abu dhabi and you're both a little unsure of where you stand after it. the tension is so thick that you could cut through it with a knife, and you kind of want to escape the whole situation. but then he speaks up.

"hey, i just wanted to-"

he's interrupted by the call of your name, and when you turn around, charles is leaning against the doorframe, eyes hazy. "are you going to sleep tonight or what?" he asks, dragging a hand through his already messy hair.

you feel a weight lift off your shoulders – and at the same time, your stomach tightens in disappointment. you nod at your brother, looking back at oscar to give him a wave and a "sleep well", before joining charles in your shared room.

oscar stands still in the corridor for a moment, before sighing and slapping himself in his mind for being so awkward and messing up this opportunity. but on the other side of the door, you stand still too as you watch your brother jump onto his bed, taking a deep breath to clear your mind.

you're just thankful the room is so dark that he can't see your ever-reddening cheeks.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 13th, 10:24am

despite the never-ending pitter-patter of your heart as you went to bed last night, you could fall asleep quite quickly, seeing as you were utterly exhausted from traveling. breakfast this morning feels like you and charles have just been reunited with your childhood friends after being kidnapped for years; not like you had just gone a few weeks without seeing each other. everyone runs around hugging, chatting about how much they've missed each other and how great this trip will be.

"did you get new highlights?" kika asks you, sliding into the seat next to you by the long table as you stuff a piece of bread into your mouth. the room is a combination of a kitchen and a dining hall, with a big cooking area and a glass wall giving the dining area a beautiful view of the mountains outside. in the middle stands a long table with enough seats for all of you, filled with fresh pastries and other breakfast goods to celebrate the first day of the trip. "or is it just the light?"

"just the light," you answer, shooting her a smile as you pick up your cup of coffee.

"oh my god, i almost forgot to ask you," lily starts and places her elbows on the table, her face resting in her hands. "what happened to that guy from raya you were talking to? did you end up going out?"

oscar is sitting a few seats down the table, pretending to be immersed in a conversation with some of the other drivers about the last few races of the season, while actually just doing his best to listen in on the conversation you're having. when he hears alex's girlfriend mention raya, his ears perk up and his breath gets caught in his throat. a million thoughts instantly crash into his mind.

she's seeing someone? how could i not know this? she's on raya? is she actively looking for a partner? who is this guy they're talking about?

he coughs and tries to act normal, shaking off the uncomfortable feeling passing through his body. he soon hears the sweet sound of your wholehearted laughter, and he almost smiles instinctively at it, before he can remind himself that lando's story about las vegas isn't exactly a smiley matter. "you're not going to believe this, i have the best story," you say in-between fits of giggles. "i met up with him for some drinks, and guess what he said? that he has a foot fetish and has dreamed about me caressing his face with my feet." all of the girls squeal and explode with laughter, making some of the boys flinch and look over to see what all the commotion is about. "so, safe to say, we never met up again. and i haven't wanted to go out with anyone else from there, either. i have a feeling they're all just creeps."

"hey, don't lose hope!" kika says while elbowing your side, but her actions are too soft, forcing you to fold over as an uncomfortable feeling spreads through your body. however, a burst of laughter spills past your lips. kika immediately holds her arm back, laughing along. "crap, i'm sorry! i totally forgot how ticklish you are."

you shake your head, your hand landing on her shoulder. "no worries," you tell her. "but, i haven't lost hope. i just don't think my soulmate is lurking around on raya with the foot fetishists."

oscar feels his shoulders relax again, feeling alright with focusing back on the boys' conversation now that he knows you in fact aren't seeing anyone.

maybe he has a shot, after all. as long as he doesn't talk too much about your feet.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 14th, 3:09pm

lando thinks he's so smart.

when he tells oscar to go ask if you'd like to have some of the gingerbread cookies he's bought, it's the third time today he has forced some kind of interaction between the two of you. he is sure that the more time that the two of you spend with each other, the more likely you will be to stop pining and just confess already.

but this time, oscar glares at the brit. "why don't you ask her yourself?"

"because you know what room she's in," lando hums back, reaching into the cupboard with some groceries. "i keep getting lost, the house is too big. plus, i'm busy." he motions to the half-empty grocery bag on the counter.

oscar lets out a sigh, but nods. "how can you memorize all tracks on the calendar, but you get lost in a cabin?" he asks rhetorically, whilst turning around and making his way down the hallway towards your room.

it's not that oscar doesn't enjoy 'accidentally' being forced into talking to you; it's the extreme lack of discretion lando is showing that makes him annoyed. it makes oscar seem like he's the one coming up with silly excuses to talk to you, and he doesn't like how it makes him look. he'd rather be seen as chill, laidback, someone who doesn't force things. he doesn't want you to catch on too early and reject him.

your voice echoes a 'come in' when he knocks on the door to your bedroom, and he pushes the door open just a little to reveal you sitting on the bed, a thick blanket wrapped over your shoulders. a grin spreads across your lips when you make eye contact with him. "hi," you say, placing the book you were reading on the bedside table.

"hey," he answers, stepping inside the room. "i... lando bought some gingerbread cookies, and we were going to make some hot chocolate, and..." his voice trails off as his eyes wander down your body, taking in the christmas sweater you're wearing and the fuzzy socks covering your feet. he smiles absentmindedly at the sight, loving how cozy you seem, and wishing he was sitting right there with you, sharing the blanket.

you nod, understanding him despite his lack of words. "i'll be right there."

oscar gives you a thumbs up – one he then facepalms himself for when he's left your room – before moving towards the kitchen again. but when he walks into it, he sees something hanging from a lamp. he stops in his tracks. "no way..."

festive cookies aren't the only thing lando bought when he went to the local supermarket. he also got the ultimate tool for securing his master plan – a mistletoe.

he doesn't know how, but he's planning to make sure you and oscar meet underneath it at least once before the holidays are over. there's no way you'll both be able to avoid it all week.

of course, lando isn't the only one rooting for the two of you. most of the other drivers know too – how can they not notice the glances you share and the way you light up when someone mentions the other in a conversation? – and most of them are in on his plans. charles is probably the only one in the house who's still oblivious to your and oscar's pining, and lando thinks that he might interfere with the matchmaking if he figures something out, so the brit keeps quiet.

oscar wants to pull the mistletoe down, rip it apart and throw it in the trash, but he refrains. something inside him tells him this might actually work out in his favor – and he decides to trust his gut this time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 15th, 2:01am

sleeping can be tricky, especially when your brother is snoring loudly in a bed just a few meters away from you.

who even decided to put him and you in the same room?

when you've been tossing and turning to no avail for about an hour, you decide it's time to do something, anything, to hopefully get a little tired again. a glass of warm milk never hurt anyone, did it?

you make your way to the kitchen, pour yourself a glass of milk and put it in the microwave, before turning to look through the windows.

the view of the mountains is breathtaking. there is an untouched, thick layer of snow covering the area, with new flakes still falling. the sun set long ago, but the snow makes it all seem light. the lake below you is just barely visible by now, almost completely coated in snow.

it's completely serene, and you find yourself getting lost in the scenery. however, you're shaken out of your trance when you hear steps behind you. when you turn around, your eyes find someone standing just a few meters away, barely visible in the dark.

you jump in your place and clutch your chest in shock, not expecting anyone else to be up at this hour. when the person steps into the light of the little kitchen lap you had turned on, you relax instantly. "holy shit, oscar," you breathe. "you nearly scared me to death."

"i'm sorry," the australian chuckles. "i didn't know how to approach you without scaring you..."

"what even are you doing up?" you question, crossing your arms over your chest as you lean back against the counter.

"i was just reading in my bed when i heard your door opening, and then footsteps, so..." he trails off when his eyes wander out towards the living room, seemingly just as taken by the sight as you were just moments ago. "i wanted to make sure everything was okay."

"well, everything is okay, so..."

there's some kind of awkwardness hanging in the air. it's not only because of the obvious uncertainty of what to say or do in this situation; it has more to do with the fact that this isn't the first time that the two of you have found yourselves this close with this much tension, all alone at night. sure, it's a lot like the night of your arrival here, but another memory springs to your mind, too.

just under a month ago, following the after-party in abu dhabi, oscar had accompanied you back to the hotel when you started getting too tipsy to keep yourself up on the dance floor. your brother had been nowhere in sight, so oscar took it upon himself to help you out, draping an arm across your waist before walking you all the way to your hotel room. and when you'd arrived in the dimly lit corridor, you'd turned up towards him to thank him, accidentally brushing your nose against his as you did. both of you had broken out in giggles, neither especially sober, but you stayed close – and when the laughter settled, you just watched each other. when his gaze had flickered between your eyes and lips, your breath hitched in your throat, the anticipation growing stronger. you had leaned in even closer, your eyes fluttering closed-

but just as your lips were about to brush his, you had been interrupted. a door a few meters away had opened and the two of you jumped apart, watching as your brother stepped out and exclaimed that he had been wondering where you ended up. oscar had wished you both a good night before hurrying off, the embarrassment of almost getting caught by his friend being too much for him to handle.

you just hoped oscar had been too drunk to remember it, because otherwise, things were bound to get quite awkward. you didn't want him to act differently around you just because you have feelings for him.

thankfully, he hasn't said or done anything to make you think he does remember it.

as you're thinking back to that night in abu dhabi, you nearly get your second heart attack when the microwave goes off with a loud beep. you scramble to turn it off and take out your milk, almost burning yourself on the hot glass in the meantime.

oscar watches you with an amused grin before he forces his gaze off you, eyes wandering over to the windows again. "quite the view, huh?"

you look over your shoulder at the blanketed mountains. "yeah, it's breathtaking," you reply, before growing quiet.

he pauses for a moment, too. "there's something magical about this place. makes everything seem simpler, quieter..."

you nod. "yeah, it does."

something about the moment makes you realize that maybe, just maybe, the awkwardness between you and oscar isn't as insurmountable as you once thought it would be. the shared quietude is comfortable, and you feel at ease. he hasn't brought up abu dhabi – he probably won't, you feel – and maybe you could both just put it behind you and focus on enjoying your trip.

when you eventually get back in your bed, it's with the same kind of pitter-patter of your heart as when you and charles arrived in the cabin a few days ago. needless to say, the glass of warm milk probably isn't going to help.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 16th, 9:02pm

the mistletoe has moved.

when you first noticed it the other day, it was hanging from a kitchen lamp. and now, it's in the doorframe leading into the living room.

you're planning on avoiding it at all costs, not wanting to slip up and accidentally get under it with the wrong person. or the right one, for that matter. the awkwardness of kissing your crush in front of friends and family would be too much to handle.

some others seem to have the exact opposite attitude towards the decoration, though. kika and pierre can be found by it about ten times per day, and alex and lily have no issues sharing a few kisses whenever they "accidentally" pass it.

no matter what, lando has a mischievous grin whenever anyone mentions it, or even walks near it.

his grin stays on when he decides to let himself be in charge of the outing you all have to the christmas tree farm nearby. the farm is too big and would take too long if everyone was going to look at every tree, so lando divides everyone into groups of two based on who they're standing next to as you walk past the gates.

what a coincidence that you're standing right next to oscar when he says this.

lando ushers the two of you off to the rows with quite tall, pre-decorated trees. "so," oscar starts as you both stop in front of a tree with white lights and ornaments hung all over it. "what do you think about this one?"

"well, it's lovely," you say, scanning it thoroughly. "but isn't the true test how well it fits into the living room?"

he nods, despite his confusion, and he shoots a curious glance your way. "and how do we determine that?"

with a playful grin, you hold up an imaginary measuring tape, pretending to size up the tree with a critical eye. "i'm trying to figure out if it fits this corner best, or..."

he follows your gaze, realizing the tease in your words. "i think maybe it's better in the other corner," he hums and points to the side as you turn a little.

"exactly."

lando never inserted himself into a group; he's too focused on watching the two of you share a lighthearted laugh at the situation. though his mistletoe back in the cabin might still have a trick or two up its metaphorical sleeve, he is already proud of his matchmaking antics.

and, he is sure you'll both crack. it is just a matter of time.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 17th, 1:43pm

"i never thought skiing would be this hard," you groan as you step into a cottage, the warmth enveloping you and beginning to defrost you instantly.

oscar laughs at the exasperated tone in your voice. "this was just the kids' slope, you do remember that, right?" you stick your tongue out at him, slumping down on a bench by a table. "you just wait before you do some real skiing..."

you had never skied before today. oscar had, but he said it was too long ago and that he needed an easy start. plus, he couldn't just leave you all alone in the children's slope without an instructor.

you'd fallen over at least five times, despite the fact that the slope was practically flat. thankfully, oscar promised to buy you some hot chocolate in a cottage café to cheer you up.

when he comes back from the cashier carrying two big, steaming cups of chocolate, you've regained most of the feeling in your fingers again. the hot piece of ceramic almost burns your skin, but you think it's worth it; you need the sugar and you need it now.

"you know what the worst thing is?" you ask, bringing the cup up to your face with both hands. you start sipping on the drink and oscar glances at you with a questioning look as he slips down next to you on the bench. "carrying those goddamn skis with me. not only does it suck to actually ski, but dragging them all the way from the rental shop…"

"if it's that much of a bother, i can carry them for you."

"and carry your own too?" you scoff, watching him flinch as he burns his tongue on the drink. "you're not that strong."

he lets out a groan. "you're not even strong enough to carry your own, so you shouldn't say anything."

"i can carry them!" you protest, shooting him a glare. "i just don't want to. two very different things."

you both go silent momentarily, too busy focusing on how good it feels to no longer be frozen to the marrow. the cabin is filled with people; kids running in circles around the tables, soon to be tired again after the initial sugar shock from their afternoon snack; a group of older ladies gossiping and enjoying getting some rest just like you; and some young adults in the far corner are already busy dancing on the tables with their after-ski drinks in their hands.

"you know what? i changed my mind," you tell him, scooting away from him a little and placing your skiing boot on the bench. "these things. they're the worst."

you start to unclasp the boot, sighing in relief as you finally tug the shoe off your foot, throwing it onto the floor. you've only worn it for about an hour, but you can already feel the bruises beginning to form. you're just about to reach down to undo the other boot, too, when oscar reaches towards your foot.

your eyebrows shoot up as he takes it in his hands, pulling the foot into his lap. and then, his fingers begin to wander up and down your foot and ankle, giving you soft squeezes and pressing down on the spaces where he thinks the boot has squeezed you the most. you hold back a pleasured sound, seeing as it would sound way too inappropriate right now, but oscar subconsciously takes note of how you're getting flushed because he soon looks up at your face.

"is this okay?"

you swallow down the lump in your throat, nodding quickly. "y-yeah… just don't tickle me..."

when did things get so intimate? mere minutes ago, you couldn't think about anything other than how you were so cold your nose was going to fall off. but now, you can't stop your eyes from following his long, sleek fingers, thinking about how good they feel and imagining how good they would feel somewhere else-

"give me your other foot."

you're thankful that he interrupts your train of thought before your mind wanders too far.

compose yourself, woman.

"don't tell me you have a foot fetish, too," you tease, turning around so that you can place your other foot on the bench too. he lets out a hearty laugh, swiftly undoing your other boot before letting it drop to the ground.

"oh, shut it. do you want a massage or not?"

you shoot him pout, giving his shoulder a thankful pat before taking your cup in your hands again. you focus on the drink, watching how the steam rises and the marshmallows melt. you can't look over at him anymore, scared of your cheeks growing too red and your face giving away your feelings.

the bell by the door rings behind you, and you look towards it out of habit. and in comes alex, george, lily and carmen, laughing and chatting loudly about the black slope they just went down. oscar doesn't seem to notice, but you hastily pull your feet from his lap, sitting down properly – unfortunately making eye contact with alex as you do. he leans forward to lily, whispering something in her ear, and you watch as her eyes dart to you and a smirk grows on her lips.

shit.

the clicking of her boots against the stone floor meets your ears and oscar turns his head at the sound, suddenly realizing why you withdrew from him. "hey there," lily cheers, each of her hands landing your and oscar's shoulders. "what have you been up to?"

your eyes meet his briefly, before looking back up at lily. "just... drinking some chocolate..."

"oh, no skiing?"

"she crashed too much, i couldn't keep her out there and let her continue to embarrass me all day," oscar tells her and you shove his shoulder.

"do you mind if we join you guys?" george asks, coming around the table and not even giving you a second to think about it before he sets two cups of chocolate down on the table. the grin he's wearing only tells you one thing: alex told him already. carmen's lips show off a matching set.

"not at all..."

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 10:32am

you huff as you slump down on the living room couch, your mood not even getting brought up by watching the newly installed christmas tree in front of you. you hadn't even been out skiing that much yesterday, yet every single inch of your body aches. not only do you have big, blue bruises on both of your hips due to the many times you've fallen onto the hardly packed snow, but every muscle screams with pain as you drape a blanket over your body. needless to say, you decided to stay at home today instead of heading out with the others for another round.

"are you sure you don't wanna come along?" kika asks as she enters the room, her pretty pink sunglasses perched at the top of her nose. the pout on her lips almost makes you doubt staying in, but when you move to sit up more straight again, you know you've made the right decision.

you nod, giving her a weak smile. "yeah, sorry."

"but oscar promised to come along?"

you freeze, your cheeks growing red as you hear her words.

did she know? about your feelings for him? did the others already tell her about the incident in the cottage yesterday? did they really interpret the situation that way?

"w-what?"

"oh," she chuckles at your reaction. "i just meant that he was so bad yesterday, so i thought that seeing him fall over a couple of times would be worth the pain."

"we're gonna trick him into going down a black slope with us," says pierre who walks into the room, arms lacing around his girlfriend from behind. "we'll send some clips."

you let out a breath of relief as they leave the room. maybe they don't know. maybe your secret will stay secret for a little longer.

the group leaves in pairs or trios and you tell them all goodbye from your place underneath the many blankets. everyone has left by now except for oscar, which confounds you since the others seemed to have so many plans for him. your confusion only grows when he steps into the living room without any skiing gear on, just wearing an oversized, cozy hoodie and a pair of sweats.

"why aren't you out with the others?" you question, your eyebrows raised at him.

"well," he sighs, flopping down next to you on the couch. "i can't find my helmet." when you shoot him a doubting look, he raises his hands defensively. "what?"

"i don't believe it."

"you don't have to, but it's the truth."

"how do you even lose a helmet? it's so big?" you scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. "i assumed you were used to keeping track of where your helmet is since if you don't have your helmet with you for races, then you can't race."

"i swear i put it on the drawer by the front door like half an hour ago. i don't understand what could've happened."

you have to give it to him; he is really doing his best to cover this up. you find it pretty obvious that he just doesn't want to ski because of what the others were planning to do to him. but maybe if kika and pierre hadn't spilled their plans already, you would've believed him.

"but hey," he says, bringing you out of your thoughts. "don't feel obligated to include me in whatever you were going to do here now that you finally have the house to yourself." he pushes himself off the couch, standing up and shooting you one last smile before turning to walk away. "i'll let you have some peace."

he takes a couple of steps towards the bedrooms, but then you get the idea. "oscar." he stops in his tracks, throwing a glance back at you. "i was planning on doing some baking, and…" you shuffle slightly in your seat. "it wouldn't hurt to have an extra helping hand."

"i'm a horrible baker, though."

"and i'm the best baker ever, so i guess we cancel each other out." you stand up from your seat, keeping the blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you make your way toward the kitchen. "let's go make some mediocre cookies!"

oscar shakes his head, grinning to himself as he follows behind you. this was definitely not what he had planned, but he sure is liking the way it's going.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 18th, 8:14pm

oscar had not been kidding when he said he sucked at baking.

he put in twice the needed amount of flour, and only half of the sugar. and as if that wasn't enough, of course the mistletoe had moved to the kitchen, making the whole situation quite uncomfortable as you both had to take strange routes while navigating through the kitchen to avoid it. not even your baking skills could save the cookies.

as an apology, oscar promised to buy some fancy gingerbread cookies tonight at the christmas market you'd all planned to go to in a nearby city. he was strongly set on going through with his promise, despite how many times you told him that it was alright and that they wouldn't taste as good as homemade ones anyway.

you've all been at the market for almost two hours now, but it feels like you've only gone about ten meters. your friends, mainly lando, george and alex, are stopping at every single shop and stand, making sure to check out all products and buying at least one thing in every store, no matter how long the line to the cash register is.

"lando-" you groan at the sight of the brit running into yet another store; this time, a shop filled with christmassy outfits for dogs. "he doesn't even have a pet…"

kika is grinning next to you, shaking her head. "he told me earlier today that he wanted to buy a present for roscoe if he got the chance," she says as most of the group joins lando. "makes more sense than when he bought that screwdriver thirty minutes ago just because it was green."

"the power of 'christmas colors', apparently," you hear oscar's voice from behind you, and you turn back to meet his eyes.

"well, i'm not surprised. just disappointed. and cold, and tired of standing still."

oscar points his head to the side, up the street. "i think i saw a stand a little further up that sells cookies, maybe they have some gingerbread ones."

you nod, a small smile entering your lips. "let's go check it out, then. kika, do you wanna come-"

you're cut off by the sound of pierre calling for his girlfriend, holding up a reindeer costume and blabbering on about how it would be perfect for her cousin's dog. "sorry guys," kika says before strutting off to her boyfriend.

you both shrug before walking down the street towards the stand oscar had spotted. the sugary scent of cookies meets your nose from far away, and your mouth waters at the mere thought of the sweets. when you arrive, a sweet old lady sitting behind the stand greets you and tells you all about the different cookies she's baked. gingerbread, sugar cookies with little candy canes, snowball cookies, and various traditional swiss cookies.

"would you like to have a taste, dears?" the lady asks, pointing her hand to a plate with samples. you and oscar take a gingerbread cookie each, popping it into your mouths.

"oh yeah, this is lovely," he says, looking like he's savoring every crumb.

"much better than ours," you answer, nudging his shoulder with yours. he gasps and places a hand on his chest, feigning offense.

you turn your attention back to the lady and telling her you'd love to buy a little box of cookies from her. oscar pays for them and she wraps the box in some pretty gift paper, handing it to you before you continue making your way down the street. the house walls and all trees are wrapped in christmas lights, some blinking in random colors and some with a soft glow of an elegant white. the streets are filled with people wearing santa hats, ugly christmas sweaters, and scarves so big half of their faces are covered. there's not a single frown in sight, the happiness and love so obvious you can almost see little hearts flowing above everyone's heads.

you glance into a couple of different stores as you stroll, stopping occasionally to check something out. when you reach a stand with different kinds of jewelry, something catches your eye: a golden necklace with a heart-shaped charm hanging from it. you carefully pick it up, your heart fluttering in your chest as you inspect it.

and when you look up at oscar from the necklace in your hands, he feels like the air is stolen from his lungs. your eyes are twinkling with happiness, outshining all lights in the entire christmas market. the excited smile on your lips is contagious, and suddenly, it's like the world around you has stopped and everyone else has disappeared. you're both just grinning at each other like two lovestruck fools, nothing in either of your minds other than the person in front of you. the sight of your rosy cheeks from the cold makes the butterflies in his stomach multiply by the second.

wow, he really is totally and fully whipped.

"really pretty," he finally gets out, unsure if he's talking about the necklace or the woman standing before him.

"pretty? it's gorgeous," you answer, eyes flickering back to the jewelry in your hand. "i adore it. how much is it?"

just as the guy in the booth is about to answer, you feel someone grab your free hand. "come on guys, they're closing down soon and we still have a bunch of shops to visit!" kika is pulling you along so fast you barely have time to put the necklace down.

lily notices the disappointment on your face and pats your shoulder. "we'll come back here sometime before christmas, don't worry."

lando shows you the christmas tree costume he bought as you wander down the market again, but oscar suddenly stops. "guys, i forgot my phone back at the cookie stand. keep walking, i'll catch up with you," he says, pointing behind him with his thumb and disappearing before anyone can say anything.

it's a good excuse, but you clearly see the outline of his phone in his back pocket as he hurries down the street.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 19th, 9:22pm

the days roll on with a gentle rhythm of shared glances and fleeting touches between you and oscar. unbeknownst to both of you, lando, ever the persistent wingman, continues his behind-the-scenes matchmaking efforts.

in some magical way, lando manages to get you and oscar paired up for pretty much anything. board game night? you and oscar just happen to get the exact role cards that make you teammates. time for some ornament decorating? you and oscar are the only ones who don't get a seat on the couch, having to sit on the floor together and share all your materials.

funnily enough, it never gets awkward between the two of you. even when you are left all alone, there is always something to talk about, some dumb thing lando has done that you can tease him about behind his back, or something you are curious about when it comes to his racing career so far. somehow, being with oscar started feeling comfortable, natural, unforced.

one specific night, alex comes up with the idea of playing card games, to which only a few of you are actually interested. some plan on going to bed early so they can hit the slopes first thing in the morning, while others just aren't in the mood. oscar said he would just finish wrapping some christmas presents and join you all later, and you catch yourself feeling disappointed that he's not on the couch next to you, helping you win (or taunting you to make you lose). it surprises you how much you're drawn to him, how it feels like something is missing when he isn't around, when you didn't feel this way just a few days ago.

you try to shake the feeling off, but it's still lingering even as you start playing with your friends. eventually, you excuse yourself to get a glass of water from the kitchen to take your mind off things. but-

just as you round the corner going into the kitchen, your head crashes into something hard. you shriek as you stumble, hands coming up to grab the person in front of you as you lose your balance, but a pair of hands wrap around your back, holding you up. when you look up, you're met with oscar's big brown eyes blinking down at you. "you okay there?"

you let out a relieved breath, nodding at him. "yeah, thanks to you. what were you doing coming around the corner that fast, though?"

he chuckles. "what were you doing not looking where you're going?"

"touché."

your hands are still holding on to the front of his hoodie, and you're about to let go of him and walk away when you notice something in the upper periphery of your vision. something is hanging above you. but, it can't be-

of course it is.

the mistletoe.

oscar looks up just as you do, jaw dropping slightly. "oh..."

"indeed..."

you both keep your vision pointed up, as if the mistletoe would disappear if you just keep on staring at it. oscar's hands slowly begin to slide off your back, and he's hoping you'll both just pretend like none of this ever happened. it would be the least awkward thing to do.

"maybe-" his breath hitches in his throat when you speak up. his gaze is on you again, but you're still looking at the plant. "maybe we should do it. just... for the christmas spirit, you know. i love christmas."

you don't even know what you're blabbering on about. you're trying to improvise a reason to kiss your brother's colleague that makes at least a little sense, but you're completely lost. you realize how dumb you sound, and you expect to see him staring at you like you actually are insane when you look back at him.

but what you don't know is that he thinks it's the best idea ever. he is just as into it as you are, if not more. he doesn't look at you like you're crazy; he's just dumbfounded, blinking at you as he tries to understand what's happening. did the girl he likes really just say they should kiss? because she loves christmas?

oscar gulps, but something in him gives him the courage to nod. "i mean," he starts, voice weak. "what's the harm? it's just... tradition."

"right. yeah, that's exactly what i was thinking."

the tension is higher than ever as your faces are already just inches apart. you aren't sure who should take the initiative and lean in, but before you can overthink it, you're both doing it subconsciously. your noses brush against each other briefly and a little giggle escapes past your lips, and this whole situation feels very familiar. this time, oscar can't hold back anymore, so he closes the gap and presses his mouth to yours.

the kiss is quick, not much longer than a peck, but something changes inside you. when you didn't know what it felt like to kiss oscar, you didn't think too much about it. but now that you have felt his lips on yours, you crave it.

he seems to feel the same way, because when you kiss him again, he's pressing against you instantly. your hands move from his chest to his shoulders as your lips move in sync, tilting your head to get a better angle. oscar's touch travels up and down your sides, fingers grazing the bare skin of your stomach when your sweater lifts.

oscar takes your bottom lip in between his teeth and you let out a hum, making him grin into the kiss. his tongue swipes between your lips before slipping into your mouth, exploring it for the first, but hopefully not last, time. you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer, already growing hot as his hands move down to your butt.

kissing oscar is so easy, so comfortable. it's like you've done it so many times before, like it's what you were made to do.

you're so relaxed and so focused on the kiss that you don't even hear lando's footsteps right next to you, nor his snicker from a few meters away as he picks up his phone to snap a couple of pictures. you don't even hear him strutting away to the living room, nor his loud proclamation to the group: mission complete.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 8:35am

the rest of the days leading up to christmas consist of a lot of sneaking around.

the days are filled with secretive kisses when you're sure no one is watching, fleeting pecks or longer liplocks, hurriedly parting and acting like nothing happened when you hear approaching footsteps. they're filled with soft brushes as you pass each other in hallways, little squeezes of your waist or his arm when someone is around, conveying more than anyone could guess. and they're filled with giant, knowing smiles matching on your lips, with longing gazes and sly winks across the dinner table.

now, his hand is warm in yours despite the freezing temperatures of the air. when you said you forgot your mittens in the cabin, oscar had just smiled, taking off one of his own to give it to you. and to heat your other hand, he intertwined his fingers with yours, his thumb stroking the back of your hand as you walked.

you'd slipped out of the house before anyone else had woken up, wishing for a peaceful moment for yourselves. the two of you haven't really had time to properly talk ever since your moment under the mistletoe, and even though it wasn't outspoken, you both knew there were things to be discussed.

you're halfway around the lake when he finally touches on the subject. "so..." he starts, nudging your shoulder with his. "you like me, huh?"

you snicker. "i have for quite some time now, actually."

his hand squeezes yours. "tell me about it."

and when he asks, you tell.

you tell him about seeing him all those years ago, thinking that he was just a pretty face, a good driver, and not much else. you tell him about getting to know him more and more in the last two years and realizing that shit, he's so much more than that. you tell him about the butterflies, about the sneaky glances, about falling for him.

and then, he tells you his side.

he tells you about knowing of you from your first appearances in the f1 paddock, the curiosity in him growing for every picture of you and charles he saw. he tells you about wanting to approach you but not knowing how, not wanting to come off too strong or clingy. he tells you about how nothing has ever been more disappointing to him than charles's timing back in abu dhabi. then, he tells you about how his fingers had secretly been crossed all trip, hoping that lando's attempts to pair the two of you up wouldn't fall through.

you share giggles and smiles as you tell your stories, and it all feels so natural even though it's so new. and you think to yourself that maybe, this won't be so hard to get used to.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 23rd, 5:46pm

"how are things going with oscar?"

lily's voice makes your heart skip a beat. you had just walked into the kitchen to grab a gingerbread cookie, not expecting her to be doing the dishes this late in the evening – and especially not expecting her to ask you something like that. "what do you mean?" you ask back, trying to stay composed as you strut over to the cupboard, reaching into it for the box of cookies.

"are you going to be like... boyfriend and girlfriend now?"

the box slips out of your hands and crashes to the floor before you can catch it again. did you hear her correctly? your eyebrows shoot up and your mouth hangs open as you look at her again. she scoffs.

"oh please, the two of you aren't exactly sneaky," she says, looking back into the sink. "you know, lando took pictures of you under the mistletoe. and we all saw you coming back from your little trip to the lake earlier today."

"oh my god." you cover your face with your hands, letting out a groan. "oh my god. no way."

lily laughs, washing the last few plates under the tap before placing them on the side to drain. "don't worry, we were all in on it."

"and what does that mean?!"

"lando had a plan." of course he did. "we all agreed to help him out. except charles, he's still oblivious."

"what kind of plan?"

"well, just small things here and there, really." she wipes her hands on a towel before turning around and leaning against the counter. "hiding oscar's helmet so he'd have to stay here with you instead of skiing with us. walking really slowly in the market so you'd both get so tired of us that you'd stroll off alone. and the mistletoe, but that's obvious..."

as lily spills the details of lando's plan, you feel a mix of embarrassment and surprise, along with a hint of amusement. you're suddenly very aware of the collaboration that has taken place behind the scenes, and you take a deep breath as you slowly lower your hands from your face.

"so... lando really orchestrated all of this?" you exclaim, still trying to process the fact that your friends have been actively working to bring you and oscar closer together.

lily chuckles, nodding. "yes, and he's been loving every moment of it. we all figured you two needed a little push."

you shake your head in disbelief, a smile playing on your lips despite the initial shock. "what's the endgame here? is lando secretly a matchmaker or something?"

"he wishes," she says with a smirk. "i think he just enjoys playing cupid when he can." she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. "but hey, it worked out well, didn't it? you and oscar seem pretty cozy."

"yeah, i guess..." the mention of oscar brings a blush to your cheeks. "i just didn't expect to have a whole team of co-conspirators."

lily laughs, stepping forward to pat your shoulder. "it's all in good fun. besides, it's about time something happened between you two." you nod in agreement, smiling at her. "now, spill. how are you feeling about all of this? is he boyfriend material?"

you hesitate for a moment, contemplating your newfound dynamic with oscar. a smile tugs at the corners of your lips. "yeah, maybe. we're figuring it out, i guess. it's all been... surprisingly nice."

she grins, satisfied with your response. "well, then, i'd say lando's plan was a success." she backs away, walking towards the kitchen exit. "just enjoy it, okay? and don't be too mad at us. we just wanted to see you both happy."

you nod and watch as she leaves, still processing the directed events that have led up to this moment. as you're left alone, you can't help but smile to yourself at the thought of everything that's happened – and everything that's yet to come.

suddenly, for the first time in your life, you feel thankful for something lando has done. you'll have to remember to thank him later.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 24th, 10:23pm

just a few hours ago, charles was challenged to a snowball fight with the rest of the twitch quartet. and how could he ever say no to them?

for you to fall asleep before he got back would just be stupid, because there's no way he will be able to keep quiet when he eventually he crashes into the room post-fight. so instead, you sit against the headboard of your bed, a thick blanket draped over your body and a good book in your hands as you enjoy the tranquility of the last few moments of christmas eve.

there's a soft knock on the door, one so low you could've just as well missed it. "come in," you call out, looking up from your book as the door creaks open. surprise paints your face as oscar enters the room, his eyes sparkling with the thrill of carrying out a secret mission.

in his hands, oscar holds a beautifully wrapped box, adorned with a crimson bow. "merry christmas."

"oscar, what are you up to?" you ask, laughter dancing in your eyes.

"giving you your present." he sits at your feet, holding out the present to you.

you place your book beside you on the bed, accepting the gift with a curious smile. you unwrap the present, and as you remove the lid of the box and your eyes are met with a necklace, your breath hitches in your throat.

the heart-shaped pendant is familiar – it's the exact necklace you'd eyed in the christmas market. you look up at oscar, a myriad of emotions playing on your face. "i didn't forget my phone," he admits, a hint of vulnerability in his gaze. "i just really wanted to get it for you."

speechless, you delicately trace the edges of the pendant with your fingers. "oscar, i..."

"it's a christmas gift, but you can wear it whenever you want."

you hold the necklace up to him. "like now?"

he nods and takes it from you as you turn around, brushing away your hair so that he can secure the chain around your neck. when you turn back, you catch the glint of admiration in his eyes. "you look beautiful."

you hold the pendant between your thumb and pointer finger, a silent acknowledgment of the connection formed by the gift. "it's perfect, oscar. thank you." you tilt your head, smiling at him. "you're not getting your gift until tomorrow, though."

"just seeing you with this necklace is enough of a present for me. i don't need anything else."

‎‎ ‎‎‎

december 25th, 6:04pm

christmas day morning is for gift exchanges. you all sit around the tree in the living room, giving out presents and sharing the background stories behind the silly little things you've bought each other. you receive a ton of random objects that people had bought that day in the christmas market; objects they bought just to irritate you and oscar. now that you know, you find it quite funny – and seeing charles's confused face as you unwrapped a green screwdriver from lando is definitely one of your highlights of the day.

your present to oscar is, obviously, better planned than most other gifts. beneath the wrapper is a box titled "skiing survival kit" written in big, red letters. in it lies a pair of thick socks (with a note reading "to protect your feet from those horrible boots"), a bag of hot chocolate mix ("for moments when skiing feels too challenging; a little warmth to make everything better"), a bottle of peppermint-scented massaging oil ("you never know when you find yourself in need of a massage..."), and a handwritten letter about how you enjoyed your stay in the cottage much more than the actual skiing and a promise to stay in and warm his chair for him next time he's out "skiing".

then, midday rolls around. the chefs of the group, also known as the few people who don't burn everything they attempt to cook, take their time to make a good dinner. in the meantime, the rest of you prepare some games and competitions, including a trivia, a snow fort building competition, and a gingerbread house-decorating contest that ended in lando letting his competitiveness get the best of him. safe to say that no other gingerbread houses were still standing, other than lando's, meaning the brit won by default. his price: getting thrown in the snow in just his pyjamas.

and the evening? it's dedicated to a movie marathon, as per russell family traditions.

it has all been planned into the finest detail; the couch in the living room is decorated with blankets and pillows, nearly every bowl in the house is filled to the brim with snacks, and mattresses and pillows on the floor for those who don't fit on the couch. everyone was included of the vote of what movie you were going to see, though you had a feeling george had cheated when you were told the 'home alone' series won. especially since it's the one series he hasn't been able to stop talking about wanting to watch all trip.

you're settled on the edge of the couch, a blanket wrapped over your shoulders and your knees pulled up to your chest. you're laughing along with something kika has said from right next to you when you hear a beep from the kitchen, indicating that the last bag of popcorn was ready. you assumed lando would be getting up to fetch it, seeing as he was the one who insisted you needed one more bag, but when your eyes find him, he sits very contently and comfortably a few seats away. he looks back at you, eyebrows rising as you make eye contact.

"hey, you're the closest to the kitchen," he says, nodding his head in your direction. "go get them."

he isn't wrong, but he still makes no sense. "no way, norris."

he pouts. "please, be quick so we can start the movie already."

"you suck."

he sticks out his tongue at you but you've already walked off. when you return, a new bowl filled with popcorn in your arms, you aren't exactly surprised to see lando in the seat that used to be yours. you shoot him a glare, to which he answers, "i could barely see the tv from where i was sitting!"

"oh, but you think i'll be able to?" you scoff at the way he shrugs his shoulders, seemingly to say that it's now none of his business. and when you look at his old seat, you are even less surprised to see who's sitting right next to it.

oscar is looking up at you, confusion mixing into his features. he's been scrolling on his phone for the last few minutes and didn't notice when his teammate left him alone.

neither of you complain when you slip into lando's old spot, though. oscar immediately grabs the blanket in his lap and drapes it over you too. you shuffle closer to him as the movie turns on, the soft fabric of his pyjama pants brushing against yours. the bowl of popcorn is propped up on your lap, and when you reach into it to grab a handful, it touches something warm. you rip your eyes from the tv to see your hand brushing against oscar's. of course.

considering the other touches and kisses you've shared these last few days, it's not even a very intimate action. and yet, something about it leaves both of you giggling.

"so many clichés this trip, huh?" he says, eyes flickering between your hands and your face.

instead of answering, you grab his hand in yours. your fingers slip in between his easily, as they've done so many times these last few days, but you pull your hands underneath the blanket to keep them out of sight from everyone else.

it's a good movie, but it's easy for you to zone out when you feel oscar's hand squeeze yours. neither of you can really stay away from the other, inching closer as the movie progresses and stealing little cheek kisses when everyone is focused on the most exciting scenes. and when you start to grow a little tired, your head instinctively lands on his shoulder as you let out a little yawn. oscar desperately has to hold himself back from cooing at you, feeling so soft and prideful that you're leaning on him, and he settles for leaning his own head on you.

you both think you're being subtle, but everyone in the room understands what's going on. even charles, who has now been let in on what's happened between you and oscar after he walked in on lando telling alex about how cute the new couple in the house looked walking around the lake, can't take his eyes off the two of you. as your older brother, he feels like he should be doing something or saying something to protect you. he wonders what his role should be here – aren't brothers supposed to scare their sisters' boyfriends away?

but charles realizes that oscar isn't an enemy. in this moment, you look so peaceful, so content; like you've found the the long-lost puzzle piece to make you complete. how could he possibly interrupt that?

‎‎ ‎‎

december 25th, 11:28pm

charles is still fast asleep on the couch when you slip into oscar's room after the movie has ended, fingers intertwined and your laughter mixing as he pulls you along to his bed. his hands find your hips as he sits down on the edge of the bed, urging you to lower yourself onto his lap, and you happily oblige.

"look up," he says, and when you do, you're not surprised by what's hanging in the roof.

the mistletoe.

"oh," you start, looking back at him. last time you found yourself underneath the mistletoe with oscar, you had been more nervous than ever before. but this time, it isn't as scary. this time, you're able to shrug, a teasing grin forming on your lips. "i guess we should kiss, then. just for the christmas spirit, you know."

his lips are curved into a big smile. "oh, i do know." one of his hands comes up to tuck some hair behind your ear, cupping your cheek in his palm. "it's because you love christmas."

you can't hold back from giggling, and neither can he, both of you leaning in to seal your lips. your first encounter underneath the mistletoe was hesitant, but it feels like that was ages ago, in another lifetime. now, with his lips pressing against yours, it feels like it's all you've known.

he's so gentle with it, his kisses delicate and tender, and your heart flutters at the feeling. his hands land on your waist as your arms wrap around his neck, scooting in even closer. when your crotch brushes against him, he involuntarily lets out a moan into your mouth, and you stop for a moment to pull away. both your eyes and his are wide as you look at each other, and oscar doesn't know what to say. his mind is racing, not sure if you thought that was awkward or too soon or-

"that's so fucking hot," you say, and he finally exhales. you kiss him again, speaking against his lips. "wanna hear more."

he has no problems letting out more sounds when you keep up your actions, your hips rolling down on him rhythmically. his hands find the hem of your sweater and slip inside, instantly roaming your sides. his cold touch tickles, and when his fingers move along your waist, you can't help but giggle against his lips. he laughs along with you, but he only does it to match you. he's dumbfounded when you part from him and you grab his wrists to make him halt.

"you're too cold," you start, a bit breathless already. "it's-"

"are you really that ticklish?" he chuckles, fingers running up and down your sides again to test you, and his heart melts when you throw your head back, laughing. "oh come on, how am i supposed to do this if i can't touch you?"

"warm your fingers next time and we should be fine."

"next time, huh?" a combination of a smirk and a grin plays on his lips. "planning ahead?"

"well, it depends on how well you perform tonight." he sticks out his tongue at your taunting tone. "just take it off already, will you?"

oscar happily obliges, pulling the material off you before reaching for his own sweater, throwing them both onto the floor. his eyes stick to your chest, to the soft, red bed bra holding up your breasts, and he feels himself growing harder instantly, because this is so much better than he'd imagined. you can't exactly complain about what your eyes are met with, either; oscar's toned chest and his broad shoulders are basically calling out for you to come and press your lips to them. or sink your teeth in them. probably both.

he gives you a few quick kisses before his hands land on your hips and he flips you both around, laying you onto the covers. his lips meet the skin below your ear, and then travel down the side of your neck. he hears your breath hitch in your throat when he finds a spot you enjoy particularly much, making sure to memorize it for the future. and when his kisses trail even further down, they meet something hard and metallic. when he leans back, he realizes that you're wearing the necklace.

he didn't notice it until now, since he was too busy being mesmerized by your breasts earlier; but now, he can't take his eyes off it. the little heart charm rests just above your actual heart, and something about seeing it makes his heart flutter. the necklace he bought for you, the one that makes you think of him and only him. it's like you're already tagged as his.

"cute," he whispers to himself, placing a long kiss right on top of the heart. he can feel your real heart beating underneath his lips, fast but not really enough, and he can't wait to make you feel like it's pounding out of your chest.

he starts placing open-mouthed kisses down your stomach, his hands finding the waistband of your sweatpants.

"you okay with me taking these off?" he asks, parting from your skin to watch you nod your head. he pulls the material down your body, smiling when your underwear comes into sight. they're not a pair of lacy lingerie or victoria's secret-lookalikes, but just a regular pair of panties in a deep green color with little candy canes. his eyes flicker between your bra and your panties. "green and red, huh?"

"well, what can i say?" you smile. "i love christmas." he giggles, and so do you, as he leaves your pants somewhere on the floor before moving further down your body. when his hands near the fuzzy socks with little cartoon santas dressing your feet, you're quick to speak. "those stay on, though."

"oh, is that so?"

"gotta make sure you're not just doing this for that foot fetish you might or might not have." a laughter erupts from his chest. "i've had too much of that recently."

"well, i don't have one, so i don't mind you keeping them on." he moves up on the bed again, fingers reaching the hem of your underwear. "but i can take these off, right?"

"things would get kinda tricky otherwise, i'd say,” you tease, but oscar merely blinks up at you with raised eyebrows.

"tricky, yes. but not impossible."

you shake your head, a grin making its way onto your lips. "next time, oscar."

and there it is again. next time. the way you say it so casually, like there's no doubt in your mind that there will be another time, that you'll do all of this again.

yet again, instant boner.

your panties are off in a second, and he doesn't waste any time before pressing his lips to the inside of your thigh. his hand takes care of your other thigh, thumb brushing up and down your skin, as your lips travel closer and closer to where you want him the most.

you suck in a breath when you feel his warm breath against your core. his tongue meets your clit and your eyes flutter closed, one of your hands reaching down to entangle in his hair. as his tongue draws circles around your bud, one of his hands leaves your thigh, a finger swiping along your wet folds before pushing slowly into you. you don't know which sensation to focus on, both growing stronger and pushing you closer to your limit every passing second. when he's pumped you a couple of times, he adds another finger and then another, pushing deep into you. his fingers curling inside of you makes you pull on his hair even harder, your mind growing hazy and your breaths shorter.

"o-oscar," you let out, subconsciously buckling your hips towards him in hopes of creating more friction. "i'm so clos-"

you're cut off by the combination of a moan and a whine that leaves your lips when his tongue flicking your clit speeds up. "come for me, sweetheart," he tells you, his voice sending vibrations against your core.

your legs shake around him as you completely let go, feeling the climax wash over you just moments after his order. your free arm drapes over your face, covering your eyes in your arm as you try to catch your breath. oscar continues lapping you up, helping you ride it out, also licking his fingers clean before letting his hands caress your sides soothingly. he's unsure whether his fingers are warm enough now to not tickle you, or if you're just too busy coming down from your high to even realize you should feel ticklish, but he smiles at the thought nonetheless.

"everything alright up here?" oscar asks as he moves up to your face again, one of his hands prying the arm off your face. you slowly open your eyes, your hazy gaze meeting his loving one and you can't help but to cup his face in your hands. you pull him down to your lips, lazily lacing them together. he pulls away just enough for his lips to still brush yours when he speaks. "i'll take that as a yes."

you're quick to nod, but even quicker to connect his lips with yours again, not wanting to be apart for even a second.

your hands slide down his neck and the front of his body, loving the feeling of his strong muscles under your touch. your fingers reach down to the edge of his pajama pants, and you let out a chuckle when you notice the ever-growing tent in them. "don't laugh at me," he starts, biting down on your bottom lip as a warning. "you're so hot, how could i not get this hard?"

"oh, shut it," you say, feeling a blush creep onto your cheeks. "just take them off, will you?"

"as you wish."

as he shuffles off the bed and pulls off his own pants, plus his boxers along with them, you take the time to reach behind you and unclasp your bra, letting it slide down your arms and off the bed. when he reaches into the bedside table and pulls out a condom, you raise your eyebrows. "oh, so you were planning this?"

he shakes his head as he climbs on top of you again. "i was hoping, not expecting. those are two very different things." he removes the wrapper and throws it onto the table, rolling the condom onto himself. "do you need anything? or-"

"just you."

oscar presses his smile to yours, kissing you like he has no rush in the world, like he just wants to savor this moment with you. "well then," he says against your lips, nudging his dick against your entrance. "i have to give the lady what she wants, don't i?"

you can't control the whine that slips into his mouth when he pushes into you. you thought you were ready for him, but he's so big and he stretches you out so perfectly. he pauses once he's slipped entirely into you, his lips finding a spot below your ear as he allows you to get used to him. your pussy is throbbing already, still sensitive from just minutes ago, and the little involuntary clenches around him make oscar grow more and more eager.

when he finally starts moving, you drape your arms around his shoulders for stability. his thrusts are slow but deep, and yet you desperately want more of him. you hook a leg over his hip, the other following soon after, and you gasp at the way he bottoms you out completely. one of his hands comes up to squeeze your breast, thumb flicking over the nipple as his pace speeds up. the sounds you make and the way your legs squeeze him close makes him feel like he could cum anytime, but he tries to hold back because he needs to see you fall apart beneath him for the second time tonight.

"oscar..." you cry out when his free hand slides down your body, a finger coming in contact with your clit again.

"just a little more, love." his thrusts have grown sloppy and his figures on your bud aren't exactly perfect, but it's good enough for your orgasm to hit.

your back arches off the bed, your chest pressing into his as you nuzzle your face into the side of his neck to hide your moans. when your walls tighten around him, he reaches his high too, his body shaking as he rides it out. your heart is about ready to jump out of your chest when he collapses onto you, both of you trying to catch your breaths. "holy fuck," oscar starts, his breath warm on your skin. "that was amazing. you feel amazing." you try to gather energy to speak, fingers getting lost in his curls. "you taste amazing, too. better than any christmas dinner."

you give him a weak slap to his shoulder. "shush."

"it's true!" he pushes himself back a bit, mouth hanging in mock offense. "this was the best present i could've ever wished for."

"the necklace is higher on my list, though."

oscar pauses for a moment. "i'm not sure if i should feel proud or offended."

you snicker. "i was hoping for the latter," you tease, but regret it the moment oscar's hands find your waist, fingers dancing along it and tickling you yet again. the squeal you let out does nothing to halt his actions, and he doesn't even budge when you try to push him away by his shoulders. "i was kidding!"

"apologize. now."

his fingers still working their way on your skin make it almost impossible for you to speak again, but you do your best to take a deep breath. "i'm- i'm sorry! oscar- stop it!"

he finally stops, and you finally get to breathe. "i'll go get a wet towel," oscar says, pulling away from you and giving you one last glance. he almost doesn't leave the bed when he looks at you, though – he finds the sight almost too good to be true. your rosy cheeks, the dreamy smile on your lips, your hair spread out on the pillows. he's scared that if he leaves you, maybe the spell will be broken and he'll realize all of this has just been a dream. because that's just how this all feels: surreal.

but it is real, and he can't wait to have you like this in his bed again.

‎‎ ‎‎

december 26th, 12:56pm

packing up after a good trip is always a bittersweet affair. realizing that you have the real world waiting for you, your actual lives with responsibilities and obligations, and that you can't just stay in this fairytale forever – this moment was definitely not something you looked forward to.

you and charles need to get back to monaco to celebrate christmas with your other brothers and your mother, before he needs to go away for pre-season work again. you're meticulously folding up your clothes, zipping up bags and exchanging smiles as you reminisce on memories of the week.

but, things are different this time. you know that the magic of this trip isn't going to stay here – in one way or another, you'll bring some of it with you back to your real life.

oscar.

you've already made plans to meet up after new years, and even when he's busy with work, you know that you'll at least see him during every race weekend. neither of you are ever more than a flight, or a call, away, and you just can't wait to see where this all takes you.

"so... oscar, huh?" charles's voice breaks the silence, his eyes glancing in the direction of your open door that lets in the sound of oscar's voice from the living room.

"hm? what about him?" you reply, trying to hold back the smile threatening to adorn your lips when you hear his name.

charles cocks an eyebrow at you. "you and him... kind of obvious." he gazes towards your bed. "besides, your bed is made. you didn't sleep here last night."

"well, i-" you start, but charles interrupts with a knowing chuckle.

"relax, i'm not going to be a police. just..." he shows off a sweet smile. "enjoy it."

with a nod and a shared understanding, you both continue packing, an unspoken acknowledgment hanging in the air. the group gathers to bid you farewell by the front door, and gratitude fills your heart as you exchange goodbyes with your friends. you grow especially soft when lando pulls you into a hug, a cheeky grin on his lips. "thank you," you whisper, giving his cheek a quick peck to really convey how much you appreciate everything he's done this holiday. he just squeezes you back, telling you not to worry about it.

finally, as you turn to say your farewell to oscar, the atmosphere shifts and the group watches with amused anticipation. "until next time," you say, your eyes holding a promise that transcends the physical distance.

"until next time," he repeats, smiling as you engulf him in a tight hug.

you pull away just enough for your ear to brush against his ear, your voice low. "charles knows, by the way."

"w-what?" his eyes widen for a moment, flickering between you and your brother – but then realization dawns. "well, in that case..."

before you can react, oscar pulls you closer again. he presses a goodbye-kiss on your lips, right there in front of everyone, and the group erupts into cheers.

and the loudest of them all? lando, of course. "if i'm not the best man at your wedding, i'll never forgive you guys."

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harumasa-wifey · 1 month ago

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Hey! Glad that more people who love Zenless are here on tumblr. And I’ve been loving some characters but I’m trying to see if i really like Harumasa. So mind helping me out with some headcanons?

Harumasa with a dragon thiren reader who works a bookshop (and secretly is a proxy) who can summon wings, a tail, and a horn✨

Just general headcanons on how this relationship would be!

Harumasa x Dragon Thiren!Reader

Warning: none, not proofread!

Note: my ass had to skip and skimp through some parts so i was genuinely confused what a Thiren is then i found a post on reddit explaining what it is. Thank you for requesting and having patience!

At first he doesn't look like a guy who would visit a Bookshop so often but he does read books sometimes rather than the papers in office.

After hearing from yanagi that you keep some of the best books around the sixth Street oh well he had to visit

Though you keep your tail and wings hidden most of the time you wear a cloak around you a short one to keep it over your head to cover the horns it's energy consuming to hide them all the time.

You keep your bookstore in the vintage style! It's a good change of place without electronics around. ( A big ass lie)

Of course you were surprised by the first visit of yanagi even and now him got you thinking you might get behind the bars soon.

You really haven't done anything bad being a proxy quite the opposite you have helped people get out of the hollows and often retrieve lost items as commissions.

Your H.D.D is hidden in the storage room which is also filled with different type of books.

And The siblings are also in your contacts it's never bad to have back ups!

Although he was confused why you had your head covered he didn't question it.

He doesn't know why he found himself often around your bookshop it was almost alluring in a peaceful way.

He doesn't read much he often comes here to seek a nap on one of your reading places yet he has the membership to your shop.

Even your bangboo has become all familiar to him, it always knows it's him when there is only one knock on the door. ( He is too lazy to knock twice anyways lol)

Though your cover as a proxy didn't stay for long under his sharp eyes.

Well it's a whatever case now as you and the siblings were excused as a proxy by miyabi herself.

He never outright told you to show him what you actually are but he definitely hints at it sometimes.

And not to mention those pick up lines he drops every now and then from the books and movies he had watched.

Well of course there is nothing to hide from him now anyways. He was amused he has seen many thirens, an oni a cat, wolf and shark. However seeing a dragon was really amusing to him.

Get ready for the absolute amount of ridiculous questions to be asked. He is not holding back.

He definitely read about dragons in the books you have after that of course and his nap time at the shop is more peaceful than ever now.

He might have asked to see your tail sometimes out of curiosity. Feel free to refuse if you don't wanna go that far. But if you let him see he is amazed how well you hide yourself.

He says the horns on your head add to your charm.

He never saw you fight but he has you running around in your bangboo beside him in the hollow.

He definitely takes his power naps with your tail warped around him.

He has read about dragons banishing evil and bringing good luck so now you are named as "Lucky Charm" in his contacts. Only his lucky charm.

#harumasa zzz #harumasa x reader #asaba harumasa #zenless zone zero headcanons #zenless zone zero x reader #harumasa asaba x reader #zzz x reader #zzzero

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hazelfoureyes · 11 months ago

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before i never really interacted with blogs(cuz anxiety and very toxic friends had my tumblr, who ive gotten rid of now) but now i literally interact with every post bc of you, you are god and i will worship you, your smut is poetic af and has my legs SHAKING(.literally.)

i am ON MY KNEES❗

also, alastor and his rivals(vox or lucifer) x reader smut? like i know alastor would be petty asf and have them watch as he fucks the living out of their beloved, im curious, do you have any ideas regarding that?(cuz your ideas are delicious and im hungry for that)

You’ve left me speechless which is quite the accomplishment, Darling. I am just a little goblin! Or like the tooth fairy, but instead of teeth I take praise and instead of money I leave filthy smut 🥺 I am so glad you removed the toxic friends and are interacting more. 💖 you deserve better and your interactions are a joy. Thank you for brightening my day! I am so far away and yet you’ve got me blushing like a fool.

oooh yes okay so! Here’s some ideas 👀

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊👑₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Energy for me is Lucifer: Here to please. Alastor: Here to win. I imagine Luci brings you to the hotel for Charlie’s Birthday party, already having a precious casual fling once or twice before. All the guests are there, everyone is dancing and drinking and having a good time. Alastor notices how you call him Luci, how Lucifer cant keep his cool when you lean closer to him when you speak. Naturally, Alastor sees an opportunity to fuck with Lucifer so he asks for a dance. He is uncharacteristically sweet and loving, willing to do anything to get under the king of hell’s skin. He changes the music to something slow, holding you close he whispers in your ear during your dance, “How can any man maintain composure around you? I feel my manners slipping through my fingers every time you look my way.” When you leave the party to cool down, Alastor follows, finding you in an empty room trying to decompress. “Would you hate me if I kissed you? Be forewarned, once I start, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop…”

Lucifer walks in to see you absolutely melting under Alastor, lipstick smeared and face flushed. But Luci adores you, your pleasure is his pleasure and he’s compelled to stay and watch, even as Alastor makes you moan and scream his name. “Who do you belong to, sweetheart?” “Whose cock are you made for?” You’re reduced to incoherent babbling by the time Alastor is finished toying with Lucifer. Lucifer can’t take it anymore and finds himself crawling onto the bed to swallow your moans and shower you in praise.

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊🖥️₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

I can see Vox bringing his beloved personal assistant to an overlord meeting for note taking, and Alastor notices your glances to him. Vox adores you, and is always on his best behavior around you to impress you. Alastor waits for you outside of Vee Tower that night for a “chance run in”. “What luck! Allow me to buy you a drink, as a welcome to hell.” Charms you as any good southern boy could, and suggests you both go back to your office for privacy. Knowing full well Vox has cameras all over the office, Alastor fucks Vox’s assistant on his desk while maintaining eye contact with the massive collection of screens there. Vox catches sight of this while skimming through the feeds but can’t break away from the video. Alastor keeps your back to the displays while bouncing you on his cock, smirking at Vox the entire time as he leans back on his desk chair. Vox is seething and finally rushes to his office to find Alastor gone and you lying on your back, still out of breath and cum dripping onto the desk.

Vox keeps you, but gets rid of the desk. He can’t let Alastor have the satisfaction of making him lose his prized employee. For weeks after, while zoning out in board meetings, his screen flashes images of Alastor smirking from over your shoulder as you ride him. He’s entirely unaware that it’s happening and everyone is too scared to tell him.

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gothicxreylover · 19 days ago

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I saw that you write Yandere and Demon Slayer and I was wondering if I could request how the yandere Hashira (if you don’t want to do them all then just Sanemi, Rengoku and Gyomei) would react to a darling who was abused in their past making them extremely skittish? The reader is very timid and is always on edge. How would the Hashira deal with such a delicate s/o?

‧.·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥

Hello thank you for your request!I couldn’t help myself and write every hashiras that I could remember. I was going to put pictures but tumblr takes forever to upload them and this is my second time trying to publish the story.

Kyojuro Rengoku

Kyojuro Rengoku was a force of nature, his passionate energy filling every room he entered. But when he met you, he immediately recognized a fragility that made him pause. Your timid, skittish demeanor reminded him of a small bird, wings battered by life but still longing to fly. It broke his heart to see how on edge you were, how you flinched at the slightest noise or avoided eye contact when someone raised their voice.

Kyojuro’s instinct was to protect you with the same fire that burned in his heart. At first, he struggled to reign in his usual exuberance, afraid that his enthusiasm might frighten you. Instead of his usual booming greetings, he softened his tone, speaking to you with a gentleness that surprised even himself.

“You’re safe now,” he said one evening, his amber eyes glowing warmly as he knelt before you. “No matter what happened before, I swear on my life, I’ll never let anyone hurt you again.”

Kyojuro’s yandere tendencies emerged in the way he began to involve himself in every aspect of your life. He took it upon himself to ensure you were always comfortable and protected, but his protective nature soon became overbearing. He insisted on accompanying you everywhere, refusing to leave your side even for a moment.

“You don’t need to go alone,” he said one morning as you prepared to run a simple errand. “What if something happens? I’d never forgive myself. I’ll come with you!”

Despite his intensity, Kyojuro’s love for you was genuine. He constantly reassured you with his words and actions, doing everything he could to help you feel safe. When you were overwhelmed, he would sit beside you, his warmth radiating like a comforting fire.

“Breathe with me,” he’d say, taking slow, steady breaths. His large hands would gently cover yours, grounding you in his presence. “That’s it. You’re doing so well.”

On nights when your nightmares were too much to bear, he’d stay awake with you, his voice steady and soothing as he told stories of his childhood or recited encouraging words.

“You are strong,” he would say, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, but you’re still here. That’s what matters.”

And while his obsessive need to protect you might have been suffocating at times, Kyojuro’s warmth and unwavering devotion slowly began to replace the shadows of your past with the light of his love.

Muichiro Tokito

Muichiro Tokito was quiet and detached, often lost in his thoughts. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He couldn’t quite explain it, but the sight of your timid, skittish behavior stirred a protective instinct within him that he hadn’t known he possessed.

At first, he observed you from afar, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. He noticed how you avoided crowds, how your hands trembled when someone spoke too loudly, and how you kept your back to the wall as if bracing for an attack. The realization that someone had hurt you ignited a quiet fury in his heart.

Muichiro’s approach was subtle. He began inserting himself into your life, offering his help in small, unobtrusive ways. He’d appear out of nowhere when you needed assistance, his calm presence soothing your frayed nerves.

“Don’t worry,” he said one day when you hesitated to walk down a crowded street. “I’ll stay with you. No one will bother you while I’m here.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his possessiveness. Muichiro hated the idea of you being vulnerable to anyone else. He began following you, not out of mistrust but out of an overwhelming need to protect you. If anyone approached you, his soft voice would turn cold, his expression unreadable as he intervened.

“Leave them alone,” he’d say flatly, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. The threat was clear, even if unspoken.

In private, Muichiro was softer. He would sit with you in silence, his presence steady and grounding. When you struggled to sleep, he would stay by your side, his voice quiet as he reassured you.

“I’m here,” he’d whisper, his pale eyes fixed on you. “Nothing can hurt you anymore. I won’t let it.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes made you uneasy, Muichiro’s quiet devotion slowly began to ease your fears. His calm presence was a balm to your restless heart, and in his company, you started to believe that safety was possible.

Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei Himejima’s towering presence was both intimidating and comforting. Despite his immense strength, he carried himself with a quiet gentleness that set him apart. When he met you, he immediately sensed the weight of your past. Your hesitance, your downcast eyes, and the way you flinched at sudden noises all spoke volumes to him.

Gyomei didn’t ask about your past—he believed you would share it when you were ready. Instead, he focused on creating a safe and peaceful environment for you. He spoke in a soft, soothing tone, his words laced with a deep compassion that made it hard not to trust him.

“You’ve been hurt,” he said one day, his voice filled with quiet sorrow. “But you are not alone anymore. I will protect you, no matter what.”

Gyomei’s yandere tendencies emerged in the form of an all-encompassing protectiveness. He couldn’t bear the thought of you being in danger, and his solution was to keep you close. He rarely let you out of his sight, justifying it as ensuring your safety.

“You’re precious to me,” he explained one evening as you sat together under the stars. “I cannot allow anything to harm you—not even your memories.”

Gyomei’s actions were always gentle, but his determination was unshakable. He eliminated anything that caused you distress, sometimes without you even realizing it. A neighbor who spoke harshly to you would mysteriously stop visiting. A place that brought back bad memories would quietly become off-limits.

In moments of fear or doubt, Gyomei was your rock. He would sit beside you, his large hands enveloping yours as he prayed for your peace. His deep voice was a constant source of reassurance.

“You are stronger than you know,” he said one night when you confided in him about your fears. “And I will be your strength until you find your own. Together, we will overcome this.”

Though his protectiveness sometimes bordered on overbearing, Gyomei’s love was pure and unwavering. In his care, you began to feel the cracks in your heart mend, each moment with him a step closer to healing.

Mitsuri Kanroji

Mitsuri Kanroji had always been a warm and loving person, her affection a beacon of light for those around her. When she met you, however, her love took on an entirely new depth. You were quiet and timid, always on edge, and it broke her heart to see the fear in your eyes. She couldn’t bear the thought of someone hurting you in the past—and she vowed to never let anyone hurt you again.

At first, Mitsuri’s boundless energy overwhelmed you. Her bright, bubbly personality and tendency to throw herself into hugs made you flinch, though you tried to hide it. The moment she noticed, her heart shattered. She pulled back immediately, hands clasped to her chest, her eyes wide with concern.

“I’m so sorry!” she exclaimed, her voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to scare you! I just—oh, I just want to make you feel loved!”

From that day on, Mitsuri did her best to be gentle around you. She toned down her energy, approaching you slowly and speaking in soft, reassuring tones. She showered you with compliments, constantly reminding you of how wonderful you were.

“You’re so brave,” she said one evening, her eyes glistening with emotion. “I don’t know what you’ve been through, but I know you’re stronger than you think. And I’ll do everything I can to make you feel safe.”

Her yandere tendencies manifested in her clinginess. Mitsuri couldn’t stand being away from you, even for a moment. She followed you everywhere, her presence comforting but sometimes overwhelming. If you tried to leave without her, she’d tear up, her lower lip trembling.

“Please don’t go without me,” she’d plead, her voice quivering. “I’ll protect you, I promise. I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt again.”

Though her possessiveness could be suffocating, Mitsuri’s love was genuine. She wanted nothing more than to see you smile without fear shadowing your expression. At night, when you had trouble sleeping, she would sit by your side, her voice soft and soothing as she hummed a lullaby.

“You’re safe now,” she whispered, her hand gently brushing yours. “I’ll protect you no matter what. I love you more than anything.”

And as her arms wrapped around you, holding you close, you couldn’t help but feel the warmth of her devotion melting away the lingering cold of your past.

Shinobu Kocho

Shinobu Kocho’s sharp intellect and gentle demeanor made her an enigma. To most, she appeared kind and composed, but there was an intensity in her gaze that often went unnoticed. When she met you, it didn’t take long for her to notice your skittishness. The way you flinched at sudden movements, the haunted look in your eyes—it all painted a picture she didn’t need you to explain.

Shinobu approached you carefully, her voice always soft and her movements deliberate. She never asked about your past directly; instead, she offered a safe space for you to exist without judgment.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” she said one evening as the two of you sat together in the garden. “But if you ever feel ready, I’m here to listen.”

Her kindness made you feel at ease, but Shinobu’s yandere tendencies began to show in the way she subtly controlled your environment. She ensured you were always within her line of sight, often under the guise of concern. If someone upset you, she’d smile sweetly at them, but her eyes glinted with a cold promise.

“Do be careful,” she’d say with a honeyed tone, her smile never wavering. “It would be such a shame if something unfortunate happened.”

Though her possessiveness was subtle, it was unyielding. Shinobu began isolating you from anyone she deemed unworthy of your trust, all while making it seem like she was doing it for your benefit. She justified it as protecting you from harm, but deep down, she relished being the only one you relied on.

At night, when the memories of your past crept in and left you trembling, Shinobu was there. She’d sit beside you, her presence steady and calming as she gently stroked your hair.

“Breathe,” she whispered, her voice like a balm. “You’re safe now. I won’t let anything hurt you.”

Though her obsession sometimes showed through the cracks of her carefully maintained facade, Shinobu’s love for you was undeniable. She would do anything to keep you safe—even if it meant taking drastic measures.

And as the days turned into weeks, you found yourself leaning on her more and more, her soothing words and unwavering presence slowly teaching you what it meant to feel safe. Little did you know, Shinobu was already planning a future where you would never need anyone but her.

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu Tomioka had always been an enigma, his quiet demeanor keeping others at arm’s length. But with you, it was different. You were his solace, the person who reminded him that even someone like him could feel alive. He noticed your skittish nature the moment he met you. The way your eyes darted to every shadow, the way you flinched at sudden movements—it was painfully familiar to him.

It wasn’t until much later, after earning your hesitant trust, that he pieced together the story behind your fear. The bruises of the past lingered not on your skin, but in the way you carried yourself, the way you recoiled when someone raised their voice. It ignited a quiet storm within him—a need to protect you, to ensure no one ever hurt you again.

Giyu didn’t talk much about your past; he knew you weren’t ready to share. Instead, he let his actions speak for him. He ensured your home was secure, often checking the locks multiple times before leaving. He began accompanying you everywhere, his presence silent but steadfast. Whenever you startled, his calm voice would ground you.

“You’re safe,” he would murmur, his eyes soft yet intense. “No one will harm you while I’m here.”

But Giyu’s protectiveness slowly evolved into something darker. The thought of you being hurt or frightened because of someone else was unbearable. He began eliminating anyone who dared to disturb your peace. A rude merchant? Gone. A stranger who looked at you the wrong way? They vanished without a trace.

One evening, you noticed his knuckles were bruised, and his haori smelled faintly of blood. When you asked, his response was clipped. “It’s nothing. Just… doing what I must to keep you safe.”

Despite his intensity, Giyu was careful around you. He would never raise his voice or make sudden movements. At night, when you woke from nightmares, trembling and panicked, he would sit beside you, his hand hovering over yours as if afraid to frighten you further.

“Sleep,” he’d whisper. “I’m here. Nothing will hurt you ever again.”

And though his possessiveness grew stronger with each passing day, so did his gentleness. For Giyu, you were his world—a fragile treasure he’d guard with his life, even if it meant losing himself in the process.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi Shinazugawa was a storm of anger and raw emotion, his demeanor sharp and abrasive. But when he met you, something in him shifted. He noticed the way you flinched at loud noises, the way you shrank into yourself when someone raised their voice. At first, it frustrated him—not because of you, but because he recognized the signs of someone who had been hurt.

It wasn’t in Sanemi’s nature to tread carefully, but for you, he tried. His voice, usually harsh and biting, softened around you. He kept his distance at first, knowing that his intensity might frighten you. But the more he saw of your skittish behavior, the more his protective instincts kicked in.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded one day, his voice trembling with barely suppressed rage. You didn’t answer, tears welling in your eyes instead. He backed off immediately, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—damn it.”

Sanemi’s way of helping was blunt and straightforward. He wouldn’t coddle you, but he would never let you feel unsafe again. He made sure to be the first to step in if anyone so much as looked at you the wrong way. His yandere tendencies began to show when he started following you—at first from a distance, then more overtly.

“You don’t need to go out alone,” he said gruffly. “It’s not safe.”

He didn’t care if you protested. Your safety was more important than your independence, as far as he was concerned. And if anyone dared to mention your past or even hint at hurting you again, Sanemi’s wrath was swift and merciless.

One night, you overheard him talking to someone outside—a low, threatening growl in his voice. “If I ever see you near them again, you won’t live to regret it.” The next day, that person was gone, and Sanemi acted as if nothing had happened.

Despite his rough edges, Sanemi showed you his softer side in private moments. When you were too afraid to sleep, he’d sit beside you, his hand hovering protectively near yours.

“You’re safe,” he’d say, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Not while I’m around.”

Though his possessiveness sometimes frightened you, it was clear that Sanemi’s love for you ran deep. He would destroy the world for you if it meant you’d never have to feel afraid again. And in his own clumsy, fierce way, he began to teach you what safety and love could feel like.

Obanai Iguro

Obanai had always been quiet in his obsession with you. His sharp eyes followed your every move, not because he mistrusted you, but because he couldn’t bear the idea of you slipping through his fingers. When he learned of your past, it wasn’t from your lips—you were far too guarded for that. Instead, it was through subtle clues: your flinch when someone raised their hand too quickly, the way you hesitated to speak, and the haunted look in your eyes when you thought no one was watching.

Obanai didn’t confront you outright. He knew that his intensity might scare you. Instead, he created a cocoon of safety around you. At first, it was small things: warning others to keep their distance, subtly nudging you into situations where you had control, and keeping Kaburamaru curled around your wrist, his comforting weight a silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

But his yandere tendencies began to creep in. Obanai grew increasingly possessive, unwilling to let you out of his sight. When you flinched at the approach of an unfamiliar man in the market, Obanai acted swiftly, his hand tightening on your arm as his mismatched eyes glared daggers at the man.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, his voice soft but tinged with malice. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again. Not even the memory of them.”

Over time, he began to isolate you, justifying it as protecting you from a cruel world. Yet, there were moments when his tenderness shone through—quiet nights where he held your trembling hand, his voice barely above a whisper as he promised that you were safe with him.

Tengen Uzui and His Wives

Tengen’s home was a whirlwind of noise, laughter, and affection. But when you arrived—a timid, skittish presence in the midst of their vibrancy—everything changed. The flamboyant Sound Hashira and his wives were not blind to your pain, and the cracks in your demeanor didn’t go unnoticed.

Makio was the first to grow protective. Her sharp eyes and sharper tongue were quick to cut down anyone who made you uncomfortable. “Don’t look at them like that,” she snapped at a vendor one day, stepping in front of you. “You’re lucky I don’t smash your stall for that glare.” Her fiery nature sometimes frightened you, but she always softened her tone when speaking to you.

Suma was more emotional, often crying on your behalf. “Why didn’t anyone protect you?” she’d wail, clinging to your hand. Though her clinginess could be overwhelming, she was also the first to notice when you needed comfort, holding you close in her arms and whispering reassurances.

Hina, ever the calm and nurturing presence, took charge of creating a safe space for you. She ensured you had quiet moments away from the chaos, always bringing you tea or sitting beside you in silence when words felt like too much.

And then there was Tengen. His flamboyant nature made you nervous at first, his booming laughter and confident stride overwhelming. But he adapted quickly, learning to temper his energy around you. His protectiveness, however, was unmatched. When he learned of your past, his usual playful grin vanished, replaced with an icy determination.

“They’ll never touch you again,” he said, his voice low but seething with anger. “I’ll make sure of it. You’re part of our family now, and no one messes with what’s mine.”

His yandere tendencies revealed themselves in his need to control every aspect of your life. He forbade you from venturing out alone and assigned his wives to accompany you wherever you went. Though the intensity of their protection could be suffocating, it was impossible to doubt their love for you.

One night, as the five of you sat around the hearth, Tengen spoke softly, a rare moment of vulnerability in his voice. “You’re more precious to us than you know. Whatever you’ve been through, we’ll erase it with a lifetime of love. That’s a promise.”

And in that moment, surrounded by their unwavering devotion, you felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could heal.

162 notes · View notes

vyzz-undercover · 4 months ago

Text

someone left my cage open quick

[cato/f!ambassador]

(1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

(8,800ish words) (holy fucking kill me mate)

CONTENT WARNINGS:

•not dubcon? [omg they've grown guys]

•hints of size kink

•vaginal fingering [on herself]

•(so i guess) masturbation

•oral [m receiving]

•intercourse [M/F]

•discussions on contraception

•discussions on pregnancy

•mild possessive behaviour

•hint of slapping (he deserves it)

•mild horror themes [warp ptsd]

•tumblr's cancerous fucking formatting as always

———————————————————————————————————

hi guys :3 guess what i got you all good im not dead,,, the gods have let me live another fateful fortnight (fortnite) also i love you all so so so much pls enjoy!!!! @moodymisty, @lemon-russ, @bispecsual, @the-raven-lady, @egrets-not-regrets, @pluvio-tea, @kit-williams, @thevoidscreams, @mothiir, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sinistermojo, @beckyninja, @passionofthesith, @cosmic-cryptid-from-beyond, @allergymoose, @scriberye, @yestheantichrist, @ma1dmer, @cucunot!!! if anyone wants off or on taglist lmk!!! im more than happy to adjust this in post OK BYE ILY ALL AGAINNNN!!!

———————————————————————————————————

There should be higher security in this wing, Cato notes.

But compared to the rest of the vessel, it's safe—as in, there's senior Admech's leaving their doors open while they buff out the scratches in their mechadendrites sort of safe. He bets seeing a mouse around here would cause a stir. Honestly, he can fully render the pict in his mind of some haughty Seneschal turning their nose up to his Primarch because of that.

Cato can imagine the exact following happening, 'eugh, why doesn't Lord Guilliman virus bomb the pipes? That's what I had done on my pissy little rowboat of a void ship!' in that nasally, all too predictable tone that every single bloody one of them seems to have bar maybe a few.

Cato grits his teeth at the thought alone.

But it is safe. You're safe, here. He trusts his Primarch to ensure that for you. Being so cozy to Guilliman as a baseline certainly has its benefits. This place is good for you, unlike the bowels of the ship—where even Cato avoids going.

Not for any risk to his persons, of course. But simply because of the tightness of the hallways. And the stink of baseline sweat and oil that practically sticks to his senses for days afterward.

It's most certainly not because the low lumen count sends his mind wandering. And the flickering—damn those flickering lights—they make him uneasy. The impossible chance they'll flicker out and reveal a reality awash with fleshed decking is completely unrealistic. But still, down in those depths, he feels like he's stuck in a dying vessel, cracked at the bottom like a broken vase, leaking. Adrift, on a storm laden sea with the blackness pouring in—where within that black there is a barely perceptible colour in infinite abundance, like the phosphenes behind closed eyes—and there are eyes in that ocean—so, so many eyes, fixed with the glowing, molten hues of the warp itself; their shades a melted tapestry, a solvent thing, ever-changing.

Eyes and screaming. It sometimes returns to Cato like a bad case of tinnitus, ringing and shrill—but the mind crafts horror that pale reality in comparison, and in that wretched plane of existence those mental horrors bore real talons, and real hooves and real thought—and the caterwauling of its victims—his brothers—ever came from maws heaving and frothing in agony.

Cato hears himself stumble and slam a palm into the side wall to steady himself, but doesn't feel it. He feels like he's in free-fall, as if the ground has opened up and swallowed him hale and whole.

All time in that abominable realm was rendered simply nonexistent, without matter nor meaning to behold to any living creature. Naught but the notion of being practically alone and how chilling it was spiralling down the depthless lake of energy remained. No resistance of air lent to the sensation of plummeting, but he was sure he was for reason beyond any form of tongue. The distance was irrelevant and utterly unmeasurable. But the warp had no edge, no limit; and as it lacked a limit, the depth of him sinking was surely unbounded—just as it was eerily silent. A merciless wall of mute, dark unknown which swallowed all whole under it's cresting wave of solitude. Mute except the wailing, like song—song of sheer coincidence, where so many voices in unison chances harmony by mathematics beyond comprehension.

The sour taste on his tongue drags him loose of the claws about his mind.

He blinks, and sees and feels steel.

Cold, unforgiving steel walling like a soothing downpour on his nerves.

Cato groans as he rights himself, shaking his head, and then rolls his tongue around his mouth; gagging a little at the bitter, acrid aftertaste of his Betcher's gland acting on instinct.

He'd thought himself largely past this now. It had been so long since it happened, and Cato tries, he tries so painfully hard not to imagine the same thing happening here, because he's okay, you're okay—nothing would try to take this ship.

The vile taste on his tongue annoys him, because he'd scrubbed his teeth raw in an effort to seem as polished as he could; and now his tongue probably stinks like an empty las cartridge.

He spits on the floor and straightens up, it's fine—at least that's what he tells himself. You're close, and you're safe and that's all the encouragement he needs to fall back into step.

Cato takes a few strides down the corridor towards your quarters before realising something rather important.

He reaches into the folds of his rest attire and practically yanks out a sheathed knife.

It'd be closer to a dagger to you, and he doubts you know how to use it, but—but—

He wants to give it to you.

It's what he'd like to receive, at least. After all, it is what he was given, once.

The smith on Talassar is long dead, from age or sickness, but it matters little. All that matters is that Cato had received it ages ago when he'd yet to make anything of himself and he wants your hands to know its weight. You never carry weapons to diplomatic ventures in the past, and you've told him as much, but he gathers it's because there's never been place for you to put them on your persons in those stupid outfits of yours.

It's a little bit brutish of a gift, yes, he's well aware. But there's no possibility of bringing any sort of cliche boon to your door, like flowers, or something of the sort. Or whatever those waifs of yore would demand as a courting gift.

He doesn't even realise he's continued walking until he's stopped and standing outside your chamber like a kicked hound.

Cato stuffs the dagger back against his breast.

He's not sure if he should knock.

Maybe barging in is a more logical approach.

He knows the universal override to all the input pads, but there's something seemingly rooting him to the spot.

The nervousness hesitation he feels regarding seeing you is a lingering problem—the longer he stays beyond the confides of your room only adds to the chances of being caught. And he's not about to wait for hours outside for a hint you're actually in there. He has right to suspect you are, but the possibility of a serf being there instead of you is unrealistic but present. Actually no, he's sure that a cleaning serf would not lock the door.

So, finally, he raps a knuckle against the door and sets his footing to a martial stance.

The door clicks, then slides open a minute later.

There's a clear surprise that paints across your face as he stares down at you, before it dissolves into a small, flustered smile.

His hands twitch where they hang by his sides, itching to reach for the dagger he wants to give you. He had planned how he'd do this on the way here. Thought it through and prepared, rolling it over and over in his head. And yet, actually having you before him throws any precedent out the nearest air-lock.

You're not in any sort of prim and proper way—you're in bedding clothes, more than anything: pants and a top.

The trousers are a light shade of cyan, loose around your calves but more form fitting around your thighs. Your hips seeming to be the only thing holding the pants up from showing the warm, smooth skin beneath; that, and a small thread tied in a crude bow. Your tunic is more of a inched stola, low necked enough that he can sort of see the top of your breasts.

"I didn't.. uh," you mumble. "I didn't expect you so soon."

He knows he's earlier than he promised, but he grunts in answer and looks over your shoulder.

You blink, "What?"

"Am I to wait out here all cycle, then?"

A small 'oh, right—sorry' from you is all he receives before you take a step back to allow him entrance.

When the door slides shut and locks behind him, Cato notes the lack on downlight activated. Everything is hazed in a moody, misty (hi) sort of warm, amber glow from the candles you've left burning. He thankfully wrestles down the urge to stand there scenting the air with his lip curled up like a beast. Trying not to linger on the abundant stink of you, you, you on everything, pervading every sense he has. Promising himself he won't smother into your pillows and start humping them like a rabid dog.

He distracts himself by cataloguing his surroundings. Cato has consistently focused on utilitarianism over all else, and it shows in his room. His room is accessorised in the style befitting of his many years and achievements; with walls lined with trophies and weaponry made by the best of the Imperium. It contains just the basic necessities required: a work area, a seat, a couple of lights, an agreeably Astartes-sized cot at the middle, and close to it, a dependable incense holder.

Your room is much smaller—but the ensuite appears the same, though. Which Cato doesn't know how to feel about. He surmises it was likely a converted Captain's quarters. It's not standard issue, and neither are the copious amounts of, for lack of a better word, trinkets. But he supposes being the Primarch's favourite little diplomat-bookkeeper-pet-thing is a title full of unseemly rewards. His Father has a strange, uncouth way of interacting with baselines, and he doesn't dare linger on the hypocrisy behind that thought coming from him standing in your private quarters.

Be as that may, he still feels enormous standing there in the cramped space between you, the bed, and the desk behind you, unimpressed at the amount of clothing bundled near his feet.

You stand in your own mess without any hint of shame. A silent Ambassador is typically a welcomed novelty, but a silent you makes Cato jumpy.

You near and try to urge him to lean down, clearly trying to coax a kiss from him.

"Water," he says abruptly.

You don't seem to be listening, just looking at him with a distracted sort of fascination—then the request clicks, and you stumble into the bathroom and run the tap.

He hears the glass he's to be drinking from clink with the hardware before it fills, and them you step out and close to him to hand it over.

He takes a big gulp and swishes it around his mouth before swallowing, and gladly the wretched sourness of lingering acid is gone.

With the threat of burning your little nagging trap gone—and you none the wiser to the fact he's an Ultramarine who can, in-fact, spit acid—he rears down and gives you what you'd sought.

A slow kiss, nice and sweet and gentle; and he closes his eyes this time, in preparation.

You grin against his mouth and pull back after, and he smiles a tiny bit at the way your lips are a little redder.

Cato huffs in satisfaction and straightens back up, going in for another draught of water.

"I am surprised you live in squalor, despite all the benefits of your station," he murmurs offhandedly, looking aside the rim at the room once more between sculling down the rest of the cup.

You frown, and glance about the room, "It's not that bad."

"It looks like a drop zone," Cato grumbles, holding out the empty glass—and you take it, while he's fixed on staring disapprovingly at the messy stacks of data-slates stacked and leaning like two great spires. "Have you no discipline? No self-respect?"

"Clearly not," you mumble and glare at him, eyeing him up, then down, then up again with a judgmental leer. Suddenly, something about the situation is amusing to you—and you snort.

Cato scowls, crossing his dense arms over his chest, "And what's that suppose to mean?"

"Nothing," you huff.

He glares back at you in silence as you turn and set the glass upon the desk—what little free space there is, in that shitstorm bundle of random work.

"I just think it's funny that you say that," you start again abruptly, rounding about to look at him. "Given the circumstances."

The scoff that leaves him is nigh a bark, "Exceptional circumstances."

You snort amusedly, "So where's your discipline and self-respect?"

"Somewhere between your thighs," he says, and prides in the begrudgingly fought-back smile he earns out of you with it.

He sits himself down on the side of the bed and continues priding to himself at the wit of the remark he made.

Cato relishes in the moment, simple as it is—you're oblivious to his own troubles and there's a sweet, lulling sense of comfort in that.

"You're a real class act," You pout, manoeuvring your rear up onto the desk inelegantly. Something tumbles to the floor to accommodate, but you're evidently unbothered. Your pants ride down at the change just enough that it put the part where your hip met leg on display. Just the temptation has him fiending off an insidious amount of lust.

He wonders if it'll hold up against an Astartes fucking you on it. But it's not bolted down, so he doubts that.

The bed will hold, though. And even if it doesn't, he'll still manage—he's sure he'll take every bit of you he can, on every surface he can manage. It's just a matter of time before he goes down the checklist, really.

Cato, understandably, groans long and low at the thought.

"Something the matter, Commander?" You intone with an annoyingly obvious faux-stupidity, crossing your legs and tilting your head a little.

"No," he rasps, and tears his gaze from your hip.

You eye him, "You look a little stiff."

He grumbles, and reaches into the breast of his robes.

The sheathed dagger looks flimsy in his muscle and callous laced palm, and when he holds it out to you, you look bemused.

Your brow arches up and you scowl a little, "What's that for?"

"You," he harrumphs, and turns away. Then Cato cannot, for the life of him, look back at your eyes—so he fixes his stare at your sandals set by one another at the door frame.

A little giddy huff leaves you as he watches you scoot off the desk top and reach for the weapon in his peripheral vision.

"You didn't have to," you coo, wrapping your small fingers around the hilt and freeing the blade from its casing. A little kiss hits his cheek and then he hears the gleam of it being loosed—he'd polished the time-dulled filigree to a mirror finish in preparation for gifting you, and even sharpened it back to a killing edge.

Your sweet hum of fascination as he sees the reflected candlelight dancing off the steel has him finally look back at you.

There's a big smile on your face, and your cheeks are a little red—and it's exactly the reaction he was after.

Cato tips his chin up, noble in his smugness, and smiles back.

"It's lovely, but—" you say, "I remember having told you before I can't wear weapons."

He pouts, and then he's sour again, "There's a belt loop on this one so that you can."

"I don't wear them for a reason," you digress.

"What reason?"

"Because it looks bad for a diplomat to do so."

Cato huffs petulantly, "That's not good enough."

"Yes, it is," you huff back.

"It's just one knife," He grunts, and gestures at you vaguely. "Why not put it on the inside of your thigh?"

And for some reason a few neurones misfire in his head at the thought of his dagger being so, so close to your—

"Do me a favour, Sicarius," you simper abruptly, as if there's a hidden punchline to the entire conversation he's yet to discover, "Look under the bed."

Cato scowls, but ultimately allows the request, putting one big palm on the duvet to leer down.

Oh, that's—that's a small fortune of ceremonial weaponry.

"Throne, woman," he starts, still looking and a bit stunned. "Why? Do you just collect all these? You don't hang them up, or anything?"

"I don't collect them willingly," you mumble, "They're just... handed to me, most of the time. Sometimes by dignitaries, a few by other Astartes. I don't understand it much, either."

Cato arches lower and reaches his free hand out to the gilded sheath of a curved sword, blue and gold and embossed with jewels. It's crusade-era levels of ancient—and Cato swears he'd seen it upon the lobby wall before the broad doors of Guilliman's chambers. That, and the hundreds of other favoured tools of war his Primarch so loved to display. Some hadn't been touched since the heresy, but still. Their nostalgic sentiments held strong. He supposes age does that to someone. Even for someone as noble and mindful as his Father.

Cato purses his lips as he lays a hand on the sword and tugs it free from the pile with ease.

He holds it up as he rights himself back on the bed and scowls, "This is—"

"I know," you sigh, and your hand braces against the side of your neck as you tut, "He insisted."

"He insisted?"

"He insisted," you grumble, and Cato tries hard not to find the embarrassed colour on your cheeks painfully endearing. "I said I wouldn't wear it, but he said it'd be a good thing to keep 'incase of emergencies', or something."

"Guilliman is right," Cato says sourly, placing the sword back on the ground and using his heel to shuck it backwards back under the bed. "You're easily assailable."

"You're the fifth Astartes to say that to me," Your face scrunches up, "I feel like it's an insult at this point."

"It's a valid observation," he shoots back. "You may as well be held together with silk and ribbons—like some spoilt little princess. You should expect the fanfare with that behaviour."

You leave his dagger on the desk behind you and take a few bold steps closer to him, crossing your arms over your chest; scowling as you say, "Oh, so you're the knight in shining armour here, then?"

Cato scoffs, "I always have been."

"And that is so terribly hard?"

He raises a brow and straightens up a bit, "Yes—yes, it is."

He likes the haughty attitude you get when you're subtly seething, he likes the little scowl you wear, and the tiny crease that forms on your nose. It gets his blood up, and warp damn him if he doesn't thrill at the slightest chance to have you gratifying his antics.

"Well, you got a pretty good reward for your troubles."

He frowns sourly, "What did I get?"

"Laid," you snark.

Cato huffs, "You were desperate for it."

Your brow quirks sourly, and you cross your arms over your chest.

"Groxshit," you grumble.

Ah, so it's time for lying now. You weren't desperate, no—you haven't ever raised your ass to let him mount you, you haven't groped his cock—you most certainly haven't ridden him like an unruly beast, taking your pleasure—letting him fuck your tight cunt full, time and time again.

He ought to remind you, he ought to get you flushed with the words—because he knows you'll squirm, dithering, bright red in the face and aching between the thighs.

Instead, he snorts loudly, "Shut up and come here."

"I don't think so," you laugh.

Cato growls and rolls his eyes, "Suit yourself."

Still sitting, he lifts the folds of his robes aside and works his arms out of the sleeves, baring himself aside from the underclothes hanging on his hips.

With another huff, Cato shuffles himself back up against the headboard, settling into the pillows. He locks his fingers together, raising them above his head, stretching tall and taut; huge chest bulging as a strained groan slips free from his throat, earning a chain of muted cracks from his back in reward of his efforts.

Your eyes trace his torso where you stand aside the bed. Studying the ports and ancient scars that draw up from his hips in mirrored pathways, linear and geometrically precise—utterly surgical. Their routes turned up the sides of his ribs, stopping high on his serratus anterior, dodging his pectorals and wrapping around to his deltoids; where your gaze stayed—eyeing the tattoo of an inverted omega he had gotten so very, very long ago. It's faded a little, but the upside down Ω is still well defined.

He's got your attention now.

You shuffle forward, half on the edge of the bed; and lean close, flickering your eyes up to his—as if seeking some sort of allowance.

"Disgustingly predictable," He scoffs, cocking his head and relaxing a bit.

Seeing an Astartes out of their armour always was something to behold for baselines. Ever eye-catching even to those who'd seen it a thousand times over. It garnered awe and fear; but that was the reason the Emperor made them so large in the first place. Aside from the practical benefits of throwing their weight around, their presence alone was intended to be physically intimidating as a means to dissuade the uncooperative from resisting and to scare off contest.

To you though, his bared form is a source of lust. The stink of it in the air has him toey and eager.

But it is, afterall, the first time you've had a good, close look at him in his entirety.

Cato preens at the flush he earns when he smirks at you.

"I won't stop you, you know."

"I hope not," You muse and lay a hand on his sternum, kneeling onto the bed and scooting close as your fingers graze over the dark spread of hair dusting across his chest.

You scan from the tops of his broad shoulders down the definition of muscle to the interfaces on his fused ribs; your eyes trailing for a brief second to his dense abdomen where the hair went even lower. Arrowing down his under-cloth. His entire body was marked with brutal scars of every kind. Some raised and old, others raw and sunken.

He'd indulge a question or two about their origins if asked—or well, if asked nicely.

Oh, that meagre cicatrix below his left pectoral? That was a Carnifex he had fought. It was five of them all at once single handedly, actually—and he only had his great Talassarian Tempest blade. It was a lucky mark from the beast. It died seconds later. He's just that good—he's Cato Sicarius, afterall. You made the right choice letting him have you, please tell him that he's the right choice.

Instead, you sink down against him and lie against his side, tracing the ports on his chest.

Arguably, this is just as satisfying to Cato as gloating waxing on and on about his many successes. Your warm little body tucked against his like a perfect fit, and the feel of your fingers around the thinner skin rimming his interfacing ports isn't bad, either. It feels strange, yes, but it's a different sort of sensation. It's acutely sensitive. He almost feels like he's about to shiver at it.

But then your attention shifts to raking against the grain of the hair on his chest.

"I usually have it burned away," he says abruptly, because he's somewhat bemused by your fascination. Still, he puffs his chest out a little. "To allow greater synergy with my body-glove."

"Really?" You laugh, and it's a prettier sound than carillon bells to Cato's ears—all the while pawing at a thick hunk of his pectoral, "They toast you?"

"Only a single passing," Cato admits, "It doesn't hurt—stinks though. And then it's all hosed off."

You hum in acknowledgement and let your hand wander down his middle, following the trail of fluffy, coarse hair.

"Interesting," you hum, fingers tracing the path, stopping only when you're grazing just shy of the top wrap of his undercloth. "You feel a bit like a fur rug here."

Cato breathes in slowly, "Don't test your luck."

"It's an entirely valid statement, how am I testing my luck?" You grumble, glowering at him as you pull away.

"You ought to be reprimanded for insubordination," He says with a steely, disciplinary intonation, but the threat's hollow and you're seemingly well aware of that. He leans in and pulls you close again as his touch sweeps down your legs. His nose buries into your hair, big hands appraising groping.

You set about kissing his cheek, smothering yourself against him.

The airy gasp that leaves you when he squeezes your ass makes you bold, apparently, because the next words you choose to say are; "Do you accept bribes?"

Cato's immediate theoretical response is a snarky 'No,' but then the heel of your palm is sliding up the side of his cock through the wrapped linen.

So, pointedly, he eagerly groans out, "Yes."

You simper up at him, before fussing with the fabric. Exposing the dense plain of his hip, tugging and un-pleating a little more until he's bared from the navel down.

His cock's so hard it nearly bats you across the cheek as it springs free. To which Cato snorts, not even trying to hide his amusement.

You flinch a little in surprise, a hint flustered, and eye the hard length of him as if it's personally affronted you.

He sits a little more upright, thighs spreading, presenting himself. Offering his big, sturdy quads as a cushion to lean on as you slowly pump him in a steady motion.

"Well?" Cato snarks, "Get on with the bribery then."

You pout at him, glancing back—and huff, "You smell like an apothecarium."

Cato grumbles to himself, slow to gather his words as he watches you ogle him, "If I had... known that you wanted to get that damn snout of yours so close, I wouldn't've used such harsh soaps."

You raise an eyebrow and pout, "Wonder if they're toxic to ingest."

"I doubt it," he starts, "But I guess there's only one way to find out."

Your fingers glide over his big thighs, dodging his ports and smoothing upwards to trace the old paths of his surgeries.

And even with all his stoic, anally neurotic merit, Cato can't stifle the small subvocal hum that escapes him as you flatten your tongue, licking a warm stripe up the side of his cock.

The feeling of it is staggeringly new, and he's absolutely elated at the view. It's half the appeal, even if there's no way you're getting anywhere near as much cock in you as your cunt allows.

You wrap your lips around the fat tip, keeping it in your mouth as you stroke the thick base of him with a grip that can't even meet around the width; balancing yourself better on your knees by putting the other hand on his thigh—the sleeve of your top slipping down your arm.

"This may be a better use for your mouth than diplomacy," He says as he lets out a low sigh, hips jerking forward with shallow movements in time to the bobbing of your mouth.

When you pull off to swipe away the glaze of spit and pre-cum accumulating on your chin, you lap your bottom lip and huff, "You are a prick, you know that?"

Despite being enamoured by the sight of you disheveled, he grumbles petulantly and says, "And you had to take your tongue off mine to say that."

You frown at him, then acquiesce with a petulant little grunt.

Then your mouth descends on him once more, rocking back and forth, letting gravity angle him in. All Cato can do is relish in the sensation, finding no room in his brain for anything else. Just the feeling of the wet heat of your mouth swallowing around him, and the swirling counterpoint of your tongue—eagerness in your gaze as it flicks up to find his again—Throne, that makes him groan straight away.

You hum around his length in response, the vibrations ricocheting through his nerves and up his spine blindingly. His other palm is suddenly against his forehead, a bit stunned from the bombardment of new pleasure.

Your little fingers dig fruitlessly into his thigh, making him hyperaware, sending him grinding forward a bit only to be rewarded with another lurching buzz of ecstasy. The hand pumping the base of him shifts away, and then small nails rake across his navel, then his hip, tracing a port; and he buries his face into the crook of his elbow to stifle a heavy moan. They're only meagre claws, yet the pressure is strangely comforting as you lap at the blood flushed underside of his glans.

Cato's aware his voice catches as he keens aloud, pulling his arm away from his face to rest his forearm on his hairline. He's simply just enjoying the soft, hot drag your mouth around his tip again.

But a reedy little whine snags his attention, catching him unaware that he had even closed his eyes in the first place.

When he finally opens them, he swoons. Hard. Your cheeks are a stunning maroon, and your previously focused gaze now looks hazy and desperate, utterly lost in the act. He hadn't been cognisant he'd put his hand on your head, either. But watching you sink down around him again and again is intoxicating. How your pink tongue peeks out to lathe over a raised vein when you pull off for air has him dizzy. Your other hand's drifted down your pants and between your thighs at some point when he'd been lost in his own pleasure, fingers curling inside yourself. A deep inhale makes it clear you're absolutely soaking. And he's well aware that it is a meagre substitute—still, the eagerness of you is adorable lurid.

Distantly, he wonders just how many times you've had that hand there in this bed. It's the scene of the crime, really. You'd already admitted to it—and he ought to make sure you're full of his fingers to keep yours where there should be. That is, if he could move. He can't find the will to even sit up higher, let alone move the hand he's been using to keep your head steady. But, he does have the mind to comb his fingers through your tresses, at least.

You seem to realise he's realised what you're doing and you whine again, forcing yourself to take his cock further.

Cato lets out an approving moan and hisses out a feckless string of curses, thighs tensing sharply as his senses stagger at the heat that suffuses his belly.

The sick temptation to spend himself in your sweet vile maw is nigh all consuming, but it's nothing compared to the fact he's far more convinced on dumping it in your womb. Anywhere else feels like an injustice to the fact he's able to fill you—because just like some fang-toothed warp-spawn abomination, you've opened the door and invited him in, so he can make as much of a wreck of you as he likes, or as much as you like.

He yanks you off him by the reigns he's made of your hair and you choke a little.

The small groan at the messy handling of the situation is a testament to how badly you're after his end, "Wh-why...?" you rasp, the efforts having made your voice a little rough; the mix of your drool and his precum giving your chin and lips a wet, glossy sheen.

"Because—" he starts, and he's surprised by how ragged he sounds to his own ears. "Because, there's better holes to empty it in."

The little disappointed sigh that escapes you as you lick your slick bottom lip makes him immediately change his mind.

"Have it your way then," he heaves, and shoves your head back down—instinctively chasing the rising tide and rocking forward into your quickly opening mouth.

His hand is tight in your hair now, fist tangling the strands in his grip as you let him thrust freely. Your own hand grabs the side of his hip as his tempo stutters. By the Emperor, his father would kill him if he could see this. But, damn—the sight of you like this is sin. He's so much bigger than you it looks obscene with you servicing him like this. You're a mess, gagging and tearing up, but making no attempt to pull away. It's depraved, but if you're so desperate for a load down your throat, who's Cato to say no? He's more than happy to give you exactly that—and just on time, he feels his balls tighten up—static rising out up his spine as a groan tears from his throat. Caught daft not a millisecond later by a bodily shudder blinding him in a hot rush.

Cato pants as the shivers subside in heavy throbs, filling your mouth. He pets your head as you swallow, at first—and then the pockets of your cheeks puff out. And suddenly you're cringing and scrambling off of him and into the ensuite. The tap starts up, then you do, and all he hears spitting and sputtering.

You stumble out looking like you'd eaten something sour, swiping your hand across your lips before saying, "That tasted horrible."

"You wanted it," Cato growls.

A bright, wry smile plasters itself on your features, "And?"

"And, if you want more," he begins, eyeing you. "You'll have to lose the rags, woman."

You straighten, eager—and promptly start to wrestle your top over your head, just to throw it at his face.

Cato grumbles at the rudeness periodically, before he starts sniffing the article. Vomeronasal organ having a momentary frenzy. It smells of warm you, and a little bit of sleep. Like an embrace, and—fuck, his spent cock twitches back to life. He really shouldn't behave like this. It makes him assume he looks savage. Even he feels strange. So he wretches your top off himself and tosses it somewhere to the left.

Watching you suddenly appear on the bed, fighting your way out of your pants is much more entertaining.

He likes the way you shimmy onto your back and fuss yourself free; and the way you practically lunge back close to him when you're finally bare.

You lean over him and grin, and Cato appreciatively drags a hand down your back, palming your ass.

Promptly, he rolls himself and drags you along. He groans theatrically as if you're fifty times the effort to move than you are, simply because he can. And the shifting of his bulk makes the bed shake enough that the stack of slates on the table across the room falter, and tumble to the floor in a loud clatter of sound.

On your back under him, he preens at the flushed surprise on your face.

"That was too loud—you're too loud," you heave.

"I'm too loud?" He grumbles, pinning your far smaller shape down. "Says you."

That stirs a groan out of you, at least, squirming while Cato drags his tongue up the side of your neck.

"Someone can still pass by and hear," you whine, "We shouldn't make that much—"

"I doubt it," he grunts, cutting you off as he slides off the mattress and drags you to the lip of it. "We have a bed all to ourselves. Your bed—in your quarters, with six inches of steel in the way, might I add. They'd have to stand at the door to listen."

He flips you over, pressing you front down—slumping against you on his knees to grant a rough grind or two to make sure you're hyperaware of his thick erection plastered against your ass. Your legs kick out and you wriggle, a series of ragged gasps leaving you as you endure the onslaught. A small lick here, a small lick there—huffing and panting to stir an empathic response. Winding you up to writhe and flush as he groans next to your ear, only to start chuffing out mean spirited laughter when you moan back.

"See, you don't really care about anyone hearing, do you?" He rasps out against your throat before sucking the skin over a thudding little artery. "You're not sworn to chastity. They might just think, 'oh, the Ambassador's found another poor soul to suck the semen out of, shame,' or the likes."

"I don't know how you do it," You scoff, breathing hard into the covers as he pulls away and grabs you by the hips to hoist your rear up into that perfect taunting arch he remembers so well from the cabin. Aptly presenting yourself on your knees at mounting-height while he stands.

"Do what?"

You laugh, "Manage to find the worst possible thing to say every time."

Cato sneers haughtily, "Decades of practice."

Taking himself in hand, he angles the tip of his cock to kiss the soft rim of your entrance. And Throne, Cato's ecstatic. He finally gets to fill in the gaps of what he should've seen back in the cabin the first time. The theatrics you'd hidden under rags and your own embarrassment.

He hears the cartilage in your gullet click when you swallow dryly and grumble, "Fine then, but don't say I didn't—"

You're rudely interrupted by your own shuddering moan when he starts sliding into you, and Cato's never been happier to shut you up.

He bottoms out in you in one smooth thrust, and the sound you make next is a stellar thing. An eager, warbling 'Sicarius–' as his cockhead jars right up against your cervix. Warm, fluttering muscles around his length and the mewling of a whorish little Ambassador are ever a perfect combination.

But he wants to be closer—so, so much closer; he wants you pressed to his front, so he can absolutely smother himself against you. He wants to burn the feeling of you and him into his edict memory, so nothing can untangle it from him.

Cato has to bend himself at an awkward angle to manage it, but he's well aware of the fact he can manage a free hand to draw lethargic circles on your belly.

"And if they can hear, it's not like anyone will believe them," he pants, a little chuff of laughter chasing his words, looking down at your face buried in the sheets. "They'll think you're a busted piston, or maybe a whining pipe."

"You're such a—" you start as his hand slides slowly down your navel, and your voice tapers off, "You're a-ah..." he dips his fingers between your thighs, and you moan, "Thro—oh—ne..."

His pointer and ring finger spread the hooded peak of your folds, then the middle moves in and rolls over your clit again and again and again. Your smaller, folded body strains back from the new attention. Mewling at the stretch, and the hot, heavy press of trans-human dick inside you. It's just how he likes it. He's got you all to himself, his bulky hips flush to your ass, and his pleased rumbling beside your head. He's genuinely content, if not for the constant paranoia—but content is a feeling he never really appreciated before the warp everything went to shit. But that paranoia is inconsequential compared to the sheer amount of joy he feels with you near and receptive to his affections marauding.

"That's it," he rasps, and he has to swallow down how much he's raring to just blindly rut into you like a savage. "Now, be a good little whore—and say 'Cato, harder please,' for me."

The request falls on deaf... or rather, cock-drunk ears. You simply moan in answer and squeeze, over-eager for him to keep practically putting a dent your womb. It catches Cato by surprise when you climax all too suddenly, high-strung, and fuck, everything in that moment is absolutely perfect—Cato would gladly suffer for an eternity to stay, just like this, for as long as the accursed galaxy will allow. Your body reduced to a juddering wreck, arching forwards and suffering even more touch to your abused clit; your insides twitching in time around him with each passing graze of his finger over that sensitive nerve.

Rearing back isn't a safe choice either, because you end up getting even more of him in your cunt—unable to escape his efforts to hound you over the edge as soon as possible again.

"I c-can't, I-I—" you whine, and in response, like any reasonable Astartes, he keeps pounding until you're compliant.

"Say it," he pants.

"Ca—ah–Cato, h-harder, please—" you start crying as you shake underneath him.

His ears practically perk up at you finally using his first name; it was only quick and garbled, but he's so glad to hear it—he's already addicted to it, impropriety damned, because fuck does it sound good. It's always been Commander, and only recently had it been Sicarius—but now you're finally giving him the validation of crying out for Cato—for him, just him.

You can be louder, and clearer than smothered against the covers. So Cato acts on the brilliant idea to hoist you upright on your knees while he slams into you.

You're struggling erratically against the big hands holding you up, making the sound of a dying animal, now.

He fucks you right through your struggles, one hand keeping your head up under your jaw so he can arch down to tuck his chin on your shoulder. The mixed sound of your little rear making contact with his hips is a rushed, degenerate beat—Throne, the poor headboard of your cot against the wall too, it's almost like sabatons on steel, a rhythmic clank clank clank. And oh, then you make the sweetest little overstuffed sob, isn't that cute. Aren't you adorable.

He's only just started again and he's already liable to empty himself in you.

Suddenly, there's a scream of his name—and a quick, warm-wet splash from you that drips down his balls. Then you've apparently been struck daft and limp in his hold, sniffling out a wrecked little cry as you slacken. It's an entirely new phenomenon. It seems to be a good thing, seeing as you're squeezing on him like it's another orgasm—so he takes it at face value.

He keeps you upright and lets you cinch down around him, staying still—riding out the aftershocks of your finish and keeping his cock nice and warm and snug.

Cato is honestly surprised when you regain enough sense to weakly buck backwards and fuck yourself on him.

"Please... p-please," you slur, and it seems like all you needed was the incitement to be reduced to begging now; "Cato, in me, i-in me..."

Cato's completely enthralled, and he's never been more willing to follow an order faster. He'd walk right into an orbital barrage if you asked, right now.

He shifts his weight into the next thrust and meets your meagre attempts to get him to rut into you.

The loud, wet plap of him bucking forward is almost deafening.

His eyes roll back at the searing burr of pleasure that chases up his spine, panting through a clenched jaw, "So eager to be f-full of Astartes cum, huh?"

"Please, C-Cato—" You can barely even get the sentence around the pace of him practically rearranging your uterus into your stomach.

Fuck, he knows he's so beyond defective it's not even arguable, because he's practically feral for any hint of validation you'll give. And if you want to have your insides painted so badly, why should he deny you?

"I know," he pants, "I-I know."

You whine, well beyond words.

He's about as robbed of verbal sense as you are now, and he groans, your cries becoming hiccups.

He swears he almost blacks out for a moment when he actually finishes. His arrhythmic, choppy sighs chase each thrust. So suddenly seized by his end he slumps forward, pushing you with him, feeling half-dead and gritting his teeth as shudder after shudder wracks him. Persisting, his hips still keep pumping without a hint of respite, pinning you with his bulk while emptying himself inside you, just how you wanted. The subsequent leaking of his spend from you turns the pace of him still rutting into an even stickier cacophony of lewd wet sound. Hand splayed out beside your head supporting his weight, huffing and puffing to himself like a pissed-off bull as he works himself into overstimulation.

He stops at last with a long, trying sigh and pulls his slick and spent-wet fingers out from between your legs; dragging them across the sheets somewhere to the right before letting his palm splay on your hip, dry.

You're bent ass up under him, with your cunt still full of his cock, plus a thick load; moaning so lowly and continuously it's almost a purr.

Cato groans tiredly, rocking his hips a little for good measure despite the ache of it. "Does having me finish inside you feel that good to your little animal brain?"

Your voice is a fucked-out mumble as you say, "Well... 's not like... y'going to get me pregnant or anything."

Cato stays quiet, considering.

And that quiet seemingly sends you asking, "Are—are A-Astartes... sterile?"

"I'm actually not too sure," Cato huffs, and finally grows the spine to pull himself out.

Your gasp at his exit and subsequent little exhuasted 'hmm' is curiously without any hint of fear-smell.

He scowls, "And you're not at all concerned by that?"

A soft groan from you answers, "Got an i-implant... after the first t-time, just incase."

He doesn't have the balls energy to even begin to comment on the fact you'd correctly anticipated him trying after you again. Is he that predictable?

Cato rears back and makes an affirmative sound, groping at your ass, big thumb pulling one of your labia aside to ogle the fat pearls of cum dripping from you. You'd take another load, too. And if you ask him nicely enough, he might do just that right now—or have your mouth again. But he likes spending himself in your warm cunt far more. The way you squirm and squeeze on him when he's in you is intoxicating. Maybe later, given your exhaustion. You both have all cycle—or at least, whatever remains of his rest hours. Regardless, it's a genuine wonder the device hasn't succumbed to the stress of stonewalling an Astartes' draining his balls in you so many times these last few months.

He makes a soft tutting sound as his big palm smooths down your sides; his warm breath dancing across your inner thighs.

No better than some slavering beast, Cato gives into the urge sent by his hindbrain and licks a wide band from clit to taint in one smooth motion, and pulls away, seemingly briefly appeased.

Your squeal is priceless, but—eugh, his cum does taste foul. Nutrient gruel be damned, he needs to fix that somehow.

Sputtering as quietly as he can to avoid dignifying your similar reaction earlier, he grumbles to himself—still pawing and groping at your ass.

"You've ruined m-my sheets," you manage to say.

Cato grunts, "You're the one who decided to piss on them."

He says that, but knows it wasn't. It didn't smell like it—it smelt like satisfaction, and slick, and 'harder, please—please, Cato, harder.'

The sudden shiver that runs up his spine thinking about it surely isn't born of a vaguely possessive thrill.

Abruptly you roll onto your back and sit up, grimacing at him.

"That's n-not what that was," you hiss, flustered enough that you're stammering. "T-That was..."

Cato raises an eyebrow, "What was it, hm?"

Hook, line, sinker—

You dither, red in the face as you mumble, "It–it was nothing."

—and ta-da, he reels in an Ambassador.

"Oh, that's right," he grins and leans over you, "It was you finishing so hard you screamed my name."

Something bold rears it's head in you then, eyeing him petulantly; because you start swatting at him—and Cato's never had you actively physically retaliate for any jabs—so he just freezes, bemused.

They're barely even pats to his sturdy form, and it amuses him to no end that you're so small but still trying to annoy him.

So, he acquiesces; and starts using his own strength on you. He keeps it in check, of course; because you're still a twig of a baseline, even as grating as you are. He's practically tossing you around on the bed with minimal actual effort. Big hands stroking and kneading, rolling you around, pinning you beneath him and trying to annoy you back.

The efforts yield an entirely different result. You're laughing, hyperventilating, and every rough grope earns him a shrill little keen of excitement.

"Throne, you're a degenerate," Cato hums, giving you a wry look before reeling you back under him. "Getting off on being tossed around, are you?"

And with a yelp, you're made to watch him maraud his way up your body again.

You start grinning then, and it's not the typical sweet, coy smile of you luring him in; rather, it's one of a mad thing, feral and giddy.

You snigger sharply, a little breathless from struggling. "You say that like t-there's any downsides."

Cato scoffs, and rolls onto his back, pouting. "So anything that can rough you up will do, then?"

"I, unfortunately, have a very singular preference," you chuff, and snuggle up against him; tucking your chin against his neck, humming softly to yourself.

"Is that so?" He grunts, "And what would that be?"

The kiss to his jaw is heartachingly soft, and you snort a little when he turns to look down at you and your cheek is grated by his stubble.

Your big eyes are locked on his, half-lidded and lazy, and there's that familiar, honeyed look in them again. The soft, heady fixation of focused affection.

Cato feels like he's about to start weeping out of sheer joy. You're all his, your time, your gaze, your adoration—everything.

He's practically vibrating from elation.

"Despite your profession, you are terrible at hiding your emotions," he snarls, despite himself.

"Look at the time—aren't you expected somewhere, Commander Sicarius?" You ask sourly, but the warmth in your eyes stays the same.

Cato wonders if his expression betrays any of that sort of softness. If there's any residual capacity to show affection left in his face after all he's been through. He's sure there's something going on there that's got you looking at him with that sweet gaze. Or maybe you've gotten a good read on what's going on in his head now. He certainly feels as if he's been figured out. As if you've got him pried and nailed open like a xenos corpse in some creaking admech's lair. The prospect isn't anywhere near as daunting as it should be.

Still, he plays along.

"Probably, but you don't seem to really be complaining, Lady Ambassador," Cato quips low in his throat as he leans in close, only to pull away and sneer. Your lips part slightly as you swallow your words instead of speaking, clearly captivated. That said, he is also still a little breathless from teasing you so it was no surprise you seem dazed at his own attempt.

"No, I am—you've just more muscle than brain," you bite out with a flash of snark a second late, taunting him further by sticking your tongue out.

Retaliating immediately, he snares your mouth against his own; sliding his own tongue with yours and drinking in the soft moan that slips free. You nip his bottom lip vengefully, making him stifle a growl and lean away as he hisses, "Don't tempt me for a third."

It's no lie, because fuck, he probably could go for one more. Especially with the treatment he's receiving now.

"Why not?" you say in a tone that's so sweet one of his hearts aches.

"You want more already?" He drawls as he licks your jaw, your throat, everywhere and anywhere his mouth can reach. Tasting the salt of your sweat, and practically suffocating himself in the smell of you. Basking in his victory—Cato makes a sound like a great big feline, somewhere between a chuff and a growl against your neck; lazily entertaining himself by mouthing a bevy of bruises there. You almost immediately let him do as he pleases, your mouth hanging open, eyes half lidded and face flushed. Cato tries—and fails—to restrain the sudden amusement edging his tone at how easily you fall to your lusts. "You're going to overload that implant and end up gravid, woman."

"Throne, yes—" You slur, wriggling against him as he lathes his tongue across the top of one of your tits.

"What?" Cato barks.

Your face reddens, "What?"

Cato glares at you, and raises a brow. You're pretending you hadn't said anything and he's stunned you think he's stupid enough to miss it, "Baseline ducal protocol likely dictates... I would have to carry you off to be wed if that happened," he says, rushed. "Or... something of the likes, I suppose."

"R-Right," You fake a cough and avert your eyes, and you're breathing a little heavy.

"Within the context, of..." Cato backpedals, suddenly hyperaware of himself. "Of... that theoretical scenario."

You harrumph meekly, and then mumble, "Oh, of course... I agree, in that hypothetical situation."

He blinks, flabbergasted, "...really?"

You clear your throat and nod stuffily, only to tuck closer against him.

There's an entire subsector's worth of unpacking those statements need; you agree, but is that you saying it's a distant assurance? That you'd let him, one day, or is it merely conjecture? The primitive satisfaction of that base biological imperative is a heady one. Dangerous, too. If there is a chance of knocking you up, it would require significant subterfuge to keep hidden. Astartes can smell that sort of thing—and fuck, a Primarch could probably tell who's it was when given a source sample. He's got no litmus test for how easy you both would be caught. Maybe if you're suddenly on leave, for say, nine-months? That's one solution.

But where would you go—oh, Throne, he's thinking about Talassar again, and you in a pretty little slip, or in his rest robes, lying next to him notating; maybe resting against his chest in the crook of his arm—the fantasy is mundane, and domestic, and anathema to his status as High Suzerain of Ultramar, but still his cock throbs and his cheeks heat at the idea of calling you Lady Sicarius.

Your hands card through his hair abruptly, combing and petting him, and hm... that's nice, why are you looking at him like that—

"What do you think you've doing?" He growls, ever the hypocrite—his face doesn't feel hot at all, shut up.

You harrumph, "Stop pretending you don't like it."

"Whatever," Cato scoffs, and leans into your touch—not before mumbling; "Cunt."

Self-admittedly, he entirely deserves the feisty little smack he cops to the snout the very next second.

"Don't call me that," you pout.

The laugh it earns from him is just as genuine.

He's having you a third time just because of that, for sure.

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pagesofkenna · 9 months ago

Text

tentative title achieved. are we doing this??

one step closer to being a white guy with a podcast: figured out what the podcast's premise would be

#ive had a few people irl and on tumblr say they'd be willing to guest but im kinda wondering if i have the energy to try to #organize a regular cohost lmao #this would fully just be a hobby podcast - an episode a month maybe #but the whole purpose of this IS to be established enough that i can ask to guest on a schubert podcast in 7 years #and not just be some nobody cold-emailing a full-time podcaster yknow #also literally a space for me to ramble about stuff i think is cool. or let my friends/guests ramble at me

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months ago

Text

Call Out My Name

Pairing: Businessman!Big Stunna x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. SMUT. PWP, cursing, stranger sex, PIV, oral (female and male receiving) teasing, cum play, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, referring to female anatomy as she, all consensual. D/s lite. Sorry if I missed some, I'm rushing, just let me know.

Summary: At a work conference, your boring coworkers want to continue hanging out. Needing your alone time, you head to the hotel bar for a quick drink before you headed upstairs. But when a gorgeous stranger buys your drink, it entices you to do something you’d never done before. Be bold.

Word Count: 5,426k

AO3 Link

A/N: This is a wonderful ask from @westside-rot. I have not been able to stop thinking about businessman Stunna all day. Welp, here we are LOL. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @planetblaque @blackerthings @browngirldominion @we-outsiiiide @thecookiebratz @iv0rysoap @notapradagurl7 @sevikasblackgf @miyuhpapayuh @xo-goldengirl @kindofaintrovert @flydotty @judymfmoody @slippinninque @soufcakmistress @henneseyhoe @westside-rot @melaninpov @twocentuar @blackpinup22 @babybratzmaraj @theyscreamsannii @kiabialia @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @00aijia00 @hopefulromantic1 @lesbiantreehugger @longpause-awkwardsmile @badassdoll @kholdkill @cardi-bre91 @blowmymbackout @jay-mach @sageispunk @yourofficialgal @liyaah02 @monaeesstuff @amethyst09 @harmshake @satoruya @theunsweetenedtruth @ciaqui @multiversefanfics @chaos-4baby

Your coworkers spilled out of the conference room in a fit of laughter. Your laugh sounded so fake, even to your ears, but your coworkers were none the wiser. They stated that they wanted to keep the party going and go out for drinks and a later dinner.

Ugh. Spare you. It was bad enough being stuck in a hot ass conference room with these people but it was even worse that they wanted to keep going. It was past nine o’clock and you couldn’t stomach them for one second longer.

Usually, you did these conferences by yourself. You volunteered for the position for free travel and the chance to step out of your shoes for a minute. These people didn’t know you. It was a chance to ease the burdens of your life. But this was a bigger conference, so your boss let the four of you go.

“I’m actually so tired,” you said and heaved a yawn, stretching it out to really look convincing. “I couldn’t stay awake if I tried!”

“Oh, come on! You’re such an old lady!” One of your coworkers, Shane, said and shook his auburn hair.

“Hey! It takes a routine to look this good at my age,” you said and pointed to yourself and your cream and brown outfit. Your coworkers laughed, waving goodbye, with final pleas to go ahead and join them. God, no thanks.

You headed towards the hotel bar, feeling that much lighter just from getting rid of their energy. More people needed to appreciate a little quiet and solitude. Entering the hotel bar, your heels clicked on the faux wood as you looked around. It had a nostalgic sort of vibe, with soft neon light, wooden tables, and a TV playing in the corner.

It was perfect. It looked like the type of place where everyone minded their own fucking business. You walked over to the bar, planting your brown jacket and purse on the seat to your left. You caught the bartender’s attention and ordered your favorite drink.

As you waited for him to make it, you pulled out your phone and scrolled to your current favorite fanfic on Tumblr. You just needed a good drink and some alone time in the hotel room. You could almost feel the cool air on your skin as you sat and relaxed with good writing.

The bartender slid your glass into your line of sight. You mumbled a thanks and pulled out your wallet.

“It’s been taken care of,” he said.

You finally look up, puzzled, because who the hell would do that? The bartender tilted his head to your right. You turned, looking into the face of a god. It took all your willpower not to drop your draw and ogle him.

You licked your lips to give you time to stall, because goddamn. You were suddenly too aware of your heartbeat thumping in your chest and down below. You didn’t think people could have physical reactions to real life people and yet here you were.

You grabbed the drink and lifted it in a silent thanks to the mystery man. He nursed his own drink, glass barely filled with a dark, amber liquid. He pointed to the seat next to you and you hoped you didn’t look too desperate by nodding your head.

He got off of the stool and damn. He was fine as hell. He was taller than you, impossibly tall, with long legs and decked out in a burgundy suit with a dark gray shirt, tie slightly askew from around his neck. The top button was undone, showing off a chiseled chest.

You watched as he sauntered over and sat one seat away from you. Close enough to converse while still giving you some space. You were really starting to like him.

He smiled and introduced himself. “But most people call me Stunna,” he said and smirked like he admired how silly that was.

“Dare I ask why?” You asked.

“He shrugged. Something that stuck around since high school. You wear one shiny outfit and everybody’s a clown all of a sudden,” he said.

You laughed, shaking your head and taking a sip of your drink. “You did not!”

Stunna laughed, showing a radiant smile that completely transformed his face. He was stunning before, but he smiled like the first break of dawn across the horizon. Now you understood why they called him Stunna.

“I promise I did. Although I burned all the evidence because no one needed to keep that around,” he said.

Conversation flowed easily with him. You told him your name and why you were at the conference. He told you all about his modest gaming company. Modest. You gushed all over the games that he produced, sharing your joy over the games that meant so much to you.

“There’s no way you really play,” he said.

You nodded. “Believe it. Night and Sky? I cried by the time I finished and then played it fifty thousand more times,” you said.

Stunna laughed and shook his head. “You have no idea how much this means to me. It’s good to hear something good about my work every once in a while,” he said.

Since you had that Stunna in front of you, you had thousands of butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Still, you persevered, rapidly asking him questions. Bless him, he answered every single one.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry. I’m no better than the people in the audience,” you said. You slapped your hands to your cheeks, feeling utterly mortified. You wished the soft, dark wood of the bar would swallow you whole. You instantly regretted nerding out all over a stranger, all over Stunna of all people.

Stunna laughed. “I promise, you’re all good,” he said. When you shook your head, he chuckled again. Oh his voice was deep like chocolate and as savory as coffee. You just wanted to take a deep dive into it and never look back.

And his eye contact was insane. You often had to look away from him, body heating in all the right ways from being under intense scrutiny. You waved your hand to dismiss his words or more like a visual cue to clear your mind from all of your racing, nasty thoughts.

Maybe it was the long day. Maybe it had been too long since you were satisfied by something other than your fingers. But all you could think of was being bold. Warning signs and danger tones rang in your head as you thought of taking home a complete stranger. You watched enough TV to know that people never had the best intentions.

But hell. You were too willing to ignore all of that. You took in the cut of his suit, tailored, not off the rack. The flash of gold on his wrist from his huge watch. The long, thick fingers that you imagined wrapped around your throat.

And his lips. God, his lips. You wanted to get lost in those full lips. The way he spoke. The bite of hood to his tone to suggest that he wasn’t silver bred. The way that he absently stroked his teeth with his tongue. Was he doing it on purpose? To drive you completely mad?

You saw his lips moving but swore that no sound came out. You weren’t drunk, just a little tipsy, so you couldn’t blame it on that. It was simply that you felt him. Was that weird? There was this connection getting built between the two of you, brick by brick, laugh by laugh.

“I’m sorry?” You asked.

“I said, are you good?” He asked.

You nodded your head. So, so, so good. Your mind had a tendency to wander so you pulled it back in by looking at Stunna’s lips. It was just as distracting as his eyes but at least you didn’t get flustered looking at his lips.

Conversation turned towards griping about the conference, finding camaraderie by complaining about the same things. The overpriced food, the stinky attendants, and the anxiety of it all getting up in front of a crowd. Still, there were good parts to being a nerd.

Bold. Bold. Bold. Your heart was thundering in your chest, beating rapidly, out of control. So fast, you felt it at the base of your throat. You took the final sip of your drink, letting the sweet burn travel down to warm your belly. Your pussy gave a little throb like she was encouraging you on, rooting to get fucked as much as you were.

You stood up and grabbed your things. Stunna looked disappointed for a moment, smile dropping inch by inch. It felt cruel to tease him like this but you couldn’t help it. You dug in your purse and pulled out the spare keycard.

You usually carried one, but you were in a rush this morning and ended up bringing both. You slid it across the bar table as you walked closer to him.

He smelled amazing up close. Like wood smoke and fresh mountain air. You leaned in a little closer than you would normally dare, bringing your hand close to his. You tapped the keycard, pushing it under his palm.

“Why don’t you come meet me upstairs,” you said, not really phrasing it as a question. Stunna lifted an eyebrow, looking from the key card, to your eyes, to the low swoop of your cream dress.

His eyes moved slowly back to yours, locked, a smile curving his lips. “That right?” He asked.

You nodded, stepping closer. You put your hand on his forearm, leaning into his ear. “I like it nasty,” you whispered in his ear, ending it with a gentle kiss to his cheek.

Stunna sighed, sealing it with a chuckle. You walked away, hoping you weren’t too forward, as you hurried to the elevator. You forgot to give him a time limit and wondered if he’d follow you too soon, not even giving you the chance to strip and entice him upon entrance.

You rode the elevator to your floor, anticipation thrumming in your veins at the prospect. There was a tiny bit of doubt. After all, he had plenty of reason to think it was a trap. Ill intentions knew no bounds. But you hoped. Hoped that he’d join you on this crazy idea in this random city and at this random graphic arts conference.

The paisley flooring blended well with the pinkish brown walls, striped paneling along the bottom half giving it a subtle interesting look. There were lights covered in intricate bowls, illuminating your way to your room.

Your hands shook as you opened your door, glancing behind you at the elevator doors. Was he on it now? Was he eager? Would he show? Fuck, you hoped so. You’d hate to have to take care of yourself tonight. It wouldn’t be the same.

You closed the door, scurrying inside and flipping only the lamp light on. You pushed your suitcase out of the way, cleaned up lingering trash people tended to accumulate in hotel rooms. You hurriedly locked away any valuables, your wallet and the like. Just in case. You could be a dumb bitch right now, but at least you weren’t completely lost.

You took off your dress, hanging it up in the closet. You stood there in your cream lacy bra and panties, with little bows on the sides. You liked wearing sexy things. It made you feel confident and desirable. You kept your heels on and then sat down on your bed.

It wasn’t long before there was a knock on your door. You gasped, wiping sweaty palms on your thick thighs as you got up and went to the door. The lock beeped, the mechanics whirring, as Stunna opened the door.

Seeing you standing here, posing, he stopped for a moment with a smile on his face. “Uh, damn,” he breathed, taking in your sexy form. You felt amazing under his gaze, reading the truth of his lust in his dark eyes.

He still wore the burgundy suit and he had to turn to fit into your doorframe. Standing next to him, you did have to crane your head a bit, as you looked into his eyes. He bit his lip as he made a show of looking you up and down.

Everywhere he looked, you felt like a physical caress on your skin. You felt exposed even though you were covering the good bits. “Look at you looking so pretty. All of this for me?” He asked.

You nodded. “Don’t you know that you shouldn’t play with strangers?” He asked.

You grinned and shook your head. “I couldn’t help it,” you admitted. Shocked to find that it was the absolute truth. You truly couldn’t help it. You needed this man in the worst way. An ache burrowed into your core, leaving you feeling needy and desperate.

He walked further into the room, taking one look around. He looked down, looking at your breasts and he licked his lips. “Get down on them knees,” he commanded.

You were on fire. Burning incessantly. Waves and waves of heat moving up and down your spine. You slowly got to your knees, bending down while looking him in the eyes. He smirked. “I’m clean, but I’d understand if you didn’t want to,” he said.

“I invited you up here, remember?” You asked. You fell completely to your knees, the plush carpet like heaven on your knees.

“You can say stop at any time,” he said.

Your teeth bit your bottom lip, kneel-walking closer to him. You looked up. You really had to crane your neck now. Your hands worked at his button and zipper, freeing the growing bulge between his legs. Your eyes widened. You knew that he’d be big but…he had an impressive dick print, filling out his dark briefs in the best way.

He had strong thighs, a dusting of hair on his legs. You pushed his pants down further, running your nails softly against his dick. He hissed, rolling his neck. “I can use my words,” you said.

“That right? What else that mouth do then?” He took off his suit jacket, tossing it onto the nearby chair. He loosened his tie more, unbuttoning the second button on his shirt, and then rolled up his sleeves. He revealed his forearms, strong powerful works of art.

You grinned and buried your face in his bulge, running your nose across the thick length. His fingers caressed your forehead, cheek, and chin. You moved to push down his briefs, dragging down his thighs and salivating at the thought of fitting him in your mouth.

You could feel your essence gathering between your thighs, pussy aching and throbbing, begging to be played with. His dick sprang free, bouncing, as it waved in your face. He was incredibly huge. How were you going to fit him all in?

You’d have to use both hands to satisfy this man. You looked at him as you opened your mouth, sticking your tongue out. Stunna grabbed his dick, tapping the tip against your tongue and moaning at the sight.

You wrapped your lips around his length, suckling him down. He groaned, hands gripping the base of your neck and pulling you closer, taking him deeper. “Fuck, just like that. Get it nice and wet for your pussy,” he moaned.

You cried, picturing just that nasty image. You slobbered on him. Suckling and retreating, bobbing up and down, slurping and moaning. Hands massaging his shaft where your lips couldn’t reach. Stunna groaned as you sucked him off, grabbing a fistful of your braids.

You cried, placing your hands on his thighs for leverage. It turned you on more and more, hearing his hisses and groans, knowing that he was fully clothed while you were not. He gripped your braids tighter, lifting an eyebrow at you.

You nodded, answering his silent question. Yes, you were alright. Yes, you were getting excited with the way he made sure you felt comfortable. Whatever this man wanted, you were willing to move heaven and earth to achieve it.

“Fuck, this mouth is perfect. Damn girl, suck it like you own it. That’s all yours right there,” he moaned, encouraging you. You spat on his dick, suckling him back down.

“You want it real nice and wet for that pussy, don’t you?” He asked. You nodded, gulping him down as far as you were able.

Stunna jerked and twitched, abruptly pulling himself out of your mouth. You whined, leaning forward to try to suck him back in. “You keep doing that, I’ma bust,” he said and chuckled.

“I want you to,” you said and pouted. You had no clue how he knew. How he knew what to say or how to treat you. How easy it was to surrender. No fight, no battle, no war to be won. You saw this man and you wanted.

You wanted him in the worst way. And all it took was a little boldness on your part. A little shove in the right direction. A little clear and decisive action. Sliding your keycard to him was the wildest thing ever. Stuff of stories somewhere in the blogosphere. But here you were, catering to a man who knew what to do.

There was no coaching. No training. No room for you to argue and hassle over how to handle your body. Guys treated sex like they were lord and master over a woman’s body. As if you hadn’t spent your entire life with it. Every bump, mole, or scratch on you was accounted for. You knew your body best. So why wouldn’t a guy listen to how best to please you?

None of that arrogance was present in Stunna. He eyed you like you were a goddess. Like there were curves and rolls that he wanted to explore, he just wasn’t sure where first.

He held out his hands and helped you stand up. He grabbed your chin, pulling you in for a quick, bruising kiss. You gasped into his mouth, allowing his tongue to sweep in and explore your mouth. Your tongues dueled and danced, twirling and circling. He moaned as he sucked on your lips, tugging, feeling an answering tug in your pussy.

You were dripping, absolutely ruining your panties. His hands caressed your shoulders, moving down your sides, and finally cupping your ass. He made a deep groaning sound, squeezing your ass and separating your cheeks just because he could.

“Let me see how wet you are for me,” he said. He guided you to the bed, pulling on the middle of your panties. His knuckle brushed your wet heat and you gasped, looking at him.

He kept that same intense look in his eyes, staring at you while you moaned and whined. He bit his lip, watching you. Watching every sigh, every grimace, every jerk of your body.

“How wet that pussy get?” He asked. He continued to rub his knuckle up and down your slit. You grew wetter under his attention, oozing your essence in slow waves. Your teeth were chattering, clicking as you felt your tummy getting tighter.

You gripped onto his forearm, squeezing and feeling his tendons move as he played with your pussy. He opened his hand, fingers swirling around your clit. Fuck, you were on fire. Burning and burning with no end to the suffering.

“S-Stunna,” you stuttered.

“Oh, say it again,” he growled, voice deep and commanding respect.

“S-Stunna, fuck! Oh my god, oh my god,” you moaned.

“Mhm, loud and clear, baby,” he moaned.

You moaned louder, letting him know verbally that he was doing something very well. He dipped his middle two fingers in your pussy and you leaned off of the bed, clutching his forearm. He grabbed your wrist with his free hand, pinning it to the bed near your head.

“Keep that shit down, fuck you fighting for?” He asked. “Let that shit go. Let it all go. Let the bullshit go and come get yours,” he said.

“Yes, sir, yes, sir,” you moaned, choppy, ragged sounds escaping you. You focused on your orgasm, teased it to the front as you thought about this gorgeous man bringing you pleasure. How he seemed to be a figment of your imagination.

Something your mind conjured up, surely. There was no way he could be this perfect. This focused on your pleasure. He used this thumb to press on your clit. And like a bottle rocket, you were off. Screaming your pleasure and entering the upper atmosphere. You couldn’t breathe, clutching the sheets and bringing it to tuck under your neck as you exploded on his fingers.

Stunna cooed, watching you. “So fucking pretty. So fucking good cumming all over these fingers. Fuck, I could watch you all day and night,” he groaned. “Pussy nice and fucking juicy.”

He got to his knees, grabbing your thighs while you were momentarily out of it. You squealed as he pulled your ass off of the bed, moving your panties to the side, and then sealing his lips to your pussy.

“Oh, fuck! Stunna! Right there!” You screamed, hands flying to the back of his neck and holding on. Stunna planted his hands on your thighs and pushed, nearly folding you in half. There was pressure on your lower back, legs too thick to hold up on their own, even with his assistance.

You hooked your arms under your legs to hold them open, getting back into the groove of his tongue lapping at your juices. There were lewd, sucking noises as he ate you out. His tongue was big enough for slow circles that touched your clit and your entrance. Round and round he went, getting you worked up to the point that you couldn’t hold yourself proper anymore. You just wanted to collapse, to give in to the dying star in your heart as it wanted to blast you into pieces. Scatter you across the universe to drift endlessly.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck,” you whispered.

“Wet ass pussy. Can suck on this shit all night,” Stunna moaned, continuing to eat you out. It was official. Stunna ruined you for all others. No one else would be able to take you to such heights. Multiple times? You were turning into liquid jelly all at the masterful way he commanded your body.

Stunna wiggled his tongue back and forth over your pussy, dipping his long tongue into your entrance before returning to your clit and becoming ruthless. He flicked his tongue faster and faster. Your tummy fluttered, getting tighter, twisting, toes curling.

“Look at me, pretty,” he demanded.

You whined as you looked to him for help. Stunna smirked. He watched you as he slobbered over your pussy, adding to your juices, and making your thighs slick. You caressed Stunna’s head, scratching his scalp.

Stunna moaned as you found a good spot, and he started to gyrate like he was already fucking into you. His arm jerked as you assumed he finally took himself into his own hands, tugging on his meat with a frenzied jerk.

You came first, exploding on his tongue while screaming his name and shaking and twitching. Your eyes rolled back into your head, body shivering, light shooting behind your eyelids.

“Stunna, Stunna, Stunna,” you hyperventilated. You needed mercy. You needed to tap out. But fuck, you were trying to make it to the finish line. Trying to be good so you could get a taste of that dick deep within your walls. You needed to get stretched out and disrespected.

Stunna moaned as you shook on your way down from your orgasm. He wrapped up eating you out, slowing down, fewer and fewer licks. You were sensitive, twitching with every stroke of his tongue.

“Stunna, please,” you rasped.

Stunna chuckled, standing up and wiping his dripping mouth. He smoothed your juices into his beard, letting you soak all of it. You licked your lips as you looked at him between half-lidded eyes.

“Time to put in work, pretty,” he said. “You still with me?”

You nodded. “This is the best sex I’ve ever had,” you said. You were beyond feeling ashamed admitting that. You’d had some satisfying lays. Some not so much. But nothing, nothing, nothing compared to Stunna. That sexy smile. That deep voice. His natural manliness that only made you want to serve him. To give him whatever he wanted. To be his free use little whore who took his big dick whenever he needed to empty his balls.

Stunna grinned, leaning over your overheated body. He kissed you. You tasted and smelled yourself on him. It only fueled you to gyrate against him. So needy already. He had been rocking your world all night and here you were begging for me. He hadn’t come once. Selfish, selfish, and yet, you continued to writhe your body against his. Silently pleading for him to go ahead and take you.

“You’re fucking perfect, you know that? Perfect,” he whispered against your lips and went right back to kissing you. He kissed you like he ate you out, sloppy, desperate, and like it gave him absolute pleasure to feel your lips on his.

Stunna stood up, and loosened the rest of his tie and slipped it over his head. He tossed it onto the floor and then went to work on his shirt, going through the buttons with unparalleled speed. He took the shirt off and you gasped, eyes widening to take in all of him.

He had an amazing, thick body. Broad shoulders. Lean hips. Legs for days. His chest rose and fell as he smirked, taking off his shoes, pants and briefs in one fell swoop. He snatched up his pants, pulling out his wallet and then pulling out a condom. You loved a prepared man.

He took his time rolling the latex down his huge dick. You watched it glide further and further down to his base. He stepped back into the heat of your body, grabbing your hips to line you up properly.

Stunna caressed your lips, thumb running across your kiss-swollen lips. “You can tell me to stop at any time,” he said.

“I know,” you whispered and nodded, giving him that clear permission to do what needed done.

Stunna grabbed his base and then guided himself inside, groaning at how you instantly gripped his dick. Sweat dripped down the side of his face. Fuck, he was gorgeous. His mouth hung open as he concentrated on your pussy, on fitting as much of him inside as he was able.

He pulled out when he met resistance, plunging back in and getting deeper. He repeated the motion, letting you get used to his size. You pushed at his stomach. Not that you wanted him to stop. But fuck, you needed to hold onto something before you came apart at the seams.

You took him more easily, all the prepwork well worth it. “Oh, oh, oh fuck,” you cried, sounds getting higher in pitch as he started to increase his strokes.

His hips moved in a roll, fucking into you. He gripped your hips, squeezing, punishing, as he continued on, slamming into your walls with enough force to shake the bed. He groaned as he found a deep rhythm, jackhammering inside your pussy.

He moved his arms to brace himself on the bed, pushing your legs up in the process. You whimpered, looking at him. It was too much. Fuck, it was too much. And yet, it was not enough. Not nearly enough.

“Oh Stunna, oh baby, oh fuck,” you moaned, throwing your head back against the mattress as you lost yourself to the throes of ecstasy.

Stunna groaned. “Say it louder, pretty,” he said. He fucked and fucked, dropping his face to your chest and suckling your nipple through your bra. There was a wet heat on your chest but it wasn’t on your skin and it was driving you wild. You cried and begged, no longer aware of what you were saying.

You could be begging for the nastiest shit and you wouldn’t fucking know it. Not while he was hitting it so well. Not when he made sure to take care of you. He bit your nipple and pulled.

Pressure built in your lower tummy, churning and twisting, until you gripped onto his shoulders and cried out again. This one had to be worse than the last. You whimpered as your left leg shook violently, spasms piercing your leg. Your choppy whine made you scrunch up and start crying, the orgasm too much for you. Feeling too good, to the point of pain.

Stunna gripped your throat, hard enough to mean business, but light enough that you could escape if you wanted. You moaned, eyes in the back of your skull once more. “Squeezing my shit. You’re doing so well, pretty. So well. Pussy so juicy. So wet,” he moaned as he finally let himself go.

His tortured moan was music to your ears, face slack in relief, as his dick pulsed and throbbed inside. He felt even bigger, stretching you, splitting you open.

Your harsh breaths matched his as he leaned to the side, on his elbow, while he slowly softened inside. You rubbed his shoulders and his back, almost ashamed of the scratches you must have left there. Soft enough, he pulled out with a choked moan.

He kissed your skin, kissed your neck, leaving hot wet kisses up to your lips. He gave you a sweet, tender kiss before disappearing into the bathroom.

You were spent. Blissed out. Fucked to within an inch of your life. All you could do was stare in a daze at the ceiling, wondering what the fuck just happened. Sure, you were there for the festivities, but you were at a loss. There were no thoughts in your head. No swirling, lingering worries about the conference or the lecture you had to give tomorrow.

Stunna returned to the room, running a warm washcloth between your legs. You whimpered and slapped at his arm.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. You made such a mess, pretty,” he cooed as he cleaned you up, flipping the washcloth and rubbing down your thighs as well. You felt so cherished. So in tune with him.

“Thank you,” you whispered.

Stunna chuckled. “No, thank you. I’ve never felt like that with anyone else,” he said.

“Me neither,” you gushed and smiled.

You couldn’t believe that your ho phase was starting at your big age but you were here for it. Here for more chances like this. You’d likely never see him again, long distance relationships never working out for anyone. You were too greedy. Too needy. You wanted to climb underneath whoever you were with and never come up for air. You couldn’t do that if the guy was halfway across the country.

“Give me a minute or two to recover. I’m currently paralyzed,” you said and huffed a laugh.

Stunna laughed. He climbed onto the bed and helped you sit up further. You remained on your bed, staring up at him. He laid on his side, head on his hand and leaning against his elbow. He used his right hand to trail his fingers up and down your body, creating a lazy figure 8 pattern.

You talked well into the night, learning more and more about each other’s interests. You moved from video games, to books, to movies. When your yawns became too frequent, barely able to keep your eyes open, Stunna kissed both of your eyelids and ordered you to get under the covers.

He scooted in behind you after turning off the light. “I can leave if you want me to,” he offered.

You wiggled your ass against his front, dick fitting into the crook of your ass. He was huge even at rest. You sighed in deep contentment, snuggling into his heated chest. “Stay. I got plans for you,” you said.

Stunna chuckled and got more comfortable, pulling you into his body. He sighed as well, flexing his hand over your belly in a possessive way that made your heart skip.

“Well, then, I have to stick around for these plans. Sneak peak?” He asked.

Your answering snores let him know that you were gone, off in dreamland. He chuckled and kissed your forehead, whispering good night and sending a quiet prayer to the universe, thanking it for bringing you to him.

The end.

There's more Stunna! The Secret Big Stunna Files

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