#but instead just really creeped or weirded out by it

[osakhee]

like that, perv!sohee x reader

! obsessive behavior, voyeurism (from both sides), reader kinda take revenge on sohee, dry humping, blowjob, a little bit of spit... some cum eating kinda...

based on the song like that by babymonster

note : i LOVE that song so badly but the lyrics are absolutely insane i couldn't stop thinking about it its been WEEEKKSSSS and finally i decided to do something out of it... lyrics will be written in red, please enjoy :3

if you ask him, sohee will tell you it's not that bad. no, he's not being too much. it's not too much when he follows you around the corridors, it's not too much when he tries to take pictures of you when you wear special kind of outfits, it's not too much when he sits behind the bench in front of your building so he can get a peak of you in your pajamas when you get close to the window. he likes you, it's a common behavior, isn't it?

you know sohee has been keeping an eye on you since the start of the year. you know he's been watching closely, a little too closely. you used to have a quite normal relationship with him, just two classmates that share a lot of classes together, and sohee has always been friendly. you don't really know what happened, but his behavior flipped after the first month. he used to sit next to you and he loved chatting between classes, but you soon found him sitting at the very far back of the class. even if you thought it was in your head, you could swear you felt his eyes on you the whole time. and sohee avoided you in the hallways. sometimes he would walk very close to you, without looking at you and his gaze fixed on his shoes.

you were a bit sad, sohee could have been such a nice friend through this school year, and you kept wondering what you did wrong. did you do something that hurt him? the whole time, you felt really terrible as if sohee's behavior was your fault. maybe just seeing you made him feel bad and he couldn't do anything about it, so you started mirroring the way he acted with you.

it's only after months of feeling a pang of guilt in your heart every time you saw him that you finally caught him. you arrived late to an early morning class, and you had to walk behind sohee to reach your desk. that's when you saw on the screen of his phone a picture of you in a very weird angle, probably a shot taken really fast and in an awkward way. and you couldn't miss the way sohee was slowly palming himself through his pants, his finger drawing circles on the faint bulge poking at his jeans. it felt dirty, and disgusting, you hated every part of it. the pretty and innocent face of your classmate turned out to be one's of a pervert that got off by seeing you.

since that moment, you became more aware of sohee's acts toward you. the way his eyes would quietly travel your curves, his hand in the pocket of his sweatpants each time you met him in the corridor and the weird tension each time he had to speak to you. after a while, you started finding funny how desperate he was. he was probably dreaming of having you all to himself, probably fucking you or anything else he could have in bed, but in the end, he was only jerking off in the school's bathrooms.

instead of confronting him in front of your class like you had decided at first, you decided to play with his mind. just because it was much funnier that way. on the days you shared classes with sohee, you started wearing your most revealing clothes, you created appealing outfits to fuck with his head. and you couldn't help the smile on your face when sohee would rush out of the class the second it ended, or the blush that creeped on his cheeks and up to his ears. and the best of all, sohee was completely oblivious. he had no idea you were playing with his heart -and dick, for some reasons-, he just thought to himself that he got really lucky to meet you.

you knew sohee would often follow you home. it's the part that creeped you out the most, and you thought it was also the most pathetic of them all. fucking his fist at school with his tshirt in his mouth to muffle his moans was a thing, but jerking off to the sight of someone while sitting outside of their home was another level of desperation. you started walking more often in underwear in front of the window, only closing the blinds when you were sure sohee left his poorly hidden spot.

each day only made sohee grow more addicted to you. just your scent when you walked past him, or the outline of your body when the lights were dimmed in your apartment, it was enough for him to go over the edge all the time. he spent another evening sitting beside the bench in front of your building, his eyes quickly wandering to the open window on the first floor so he would catch a glimpse of you taking off your hoodie and ruffling your hair. god why do you need to be attractive to him? why is he feeling that way each time he sees you? just like any other day, sohee couldn't help himself, his hand quickly making its way inside his boxers so he could massage his dick to the sight of you. more than often, he'd end up covering his underwear in the sticky liquid after he wiped his hand on it before making his own way home.

sohee wished you would never know. his situation wasn't the best, and he could only dream of having you on your knees for him, he wished he could take you with him and hide you somewhere so you'd be his forever. sometimes he felt like you would catch him taking sneaky pictures of you and it made his whole body burn with anxiety, his heart pounded in his chest to the point he believed it was going to jump out. he felt ashamed, but how else could he act? he liked you, he wanted you so much, he couldn't think of any other ways to fulfill his desires and needs without having to tell you. probably because he would melt on the spot if you ever asked him about it.

one more evening of watching sohee fumble after he came in his pants outside your window and you had enough. he was so desperate, you were sure taking care of him was going to be a dream come true to him. you almost felt pitiful when you imagined his pretty eyes turning wide. after all, that's all he wants, you were doing him a favor! maybe if you have fun, it wouldn't be a one time thing. you decided to consider it like a punishment, it made you feel a little better about it. a revenge, a way to fight back for his nasty acts.

you walk into class and look right at sohee. you meet his eyes and he immediately looks away, you can already see the red that paints his cheeks. you smile to yourself, he's so easy to play with, you couldn't wait to make his mind spin. for one of the first time, the class seems endless. you're really passionate about your studies, but your brain is focused on sohee and what you planned for him.

and when finally your class ends, you quickly get out so you could catch up on sohee. he's walking away so fast in the hallway that you almost lose him, it's like you're taking his place when he chases you home at the end of your day. when he finally slows his pace, you extend your hand to grip his wrist. sohee jumps in surprise and turns to you, his heart is pounding so loud in his ears he feels like he's gonna pass out. he can barely recall how your voice sounds like, it's been so long since you spoke to him, and when you call his name, he feels weak in his knees.

"sohee? can i speak to you for a second?"

"is there... something wrong..?"

his voice sounds so hesitant, he doesn't even try to free his wrist but the feeling of your fingers burn his skin to the bone. his breath gets shorter, his throat feels so dry he doesn't know if he'll be able to speak again. he licks his lips and looks down at your hand, where your grip is tight on him. you clear your throat and sohee looks back at you again.

"you know we have this essay due at the end of the week... you always do well, i figured out you could help, what do you think?"

"oh um... well maybe, when do you-"

"come over tonight? is that okay?"

"oh..."

sohee couldn't believe it, his flushed ears couldn't believe it. the forbidden door of your home finally opens, he will be surrounded with your scent, your clothes, and you all in the same place. he can't help but the warmth that colored his face with nervousness travels down his body to start a fire in his lower stomach. he looks away and nods, freeing his wrist from your fingers. he believes the smile that appears on your lips is just a grin of relief because he'll be studying with you.

you couldn't sit still while looking at the large clock on the wall, the seconds are ticking abnormally slowly to you. you look back at sohee and you could feel his anticipation from his seat, for once he seems really concentrated on your teacher's speech. as if he wanted time to stop so he would never have to follow you to your dorm room. he can't maintain eye contact with you, he wonders how he's going to even speak to you once it's just you and him.

the clock finally shows 5pm and you gather your notebooks. sohee is stuffing his paper sheets in his bag as slow as possible, he can feel your presence next to him and waiting for him. the silence between the both of you is unbearable to him when you walk home, you try not to innocently ask him how he knows what path to follow. you open your door and sohee wonders if he still have the time to run away. suddenly his spot behind the bench outside feels really safe and comforting. but you lock the door behind him, and he knows he's trapped for god knows how long with you. how is he supposed to stay concentrated? you're everything in his mind, you devour every little thought he can have, his blood flows in his veins so he can wake up for another day and see you. after all, he just likes you. just a normal amount.

you offer a seat to sohee at your desk, there's only one chair, you just want to be polite. you drag the chair closer to your bed so you could sit in front of him, and once sohee is settled, you plan can finally start. sohee's leg bounces nervously on the floor and he fidgets with his fingers to avoid putting any kind of attention on you. he knows if he does it's going to be impossible for him not to get hard immediately. you walk behind him, your hand rests on his shoulder and reaches the back of neck, brushing your fingers in his brown hair. sohee is completely frozen in place.

"sohee? did you hear what i said?"

oh. sohee jerks his head up to look at you from the corner of his eye, and you make your way in front of him. he can't escape you anymore.

"what did you say..?"

"i said, i know the look upon your face, you know?"

you walk so close to him sohee can feel your scent filling his mind, he feels like his heart is going to explode, he wants to hand it to you so you could keep playing with it as much as you want. you sit down on his trembling lap, your hands on his shoulders, and the boy in front of you is just a mess under your eyes.

"i might know what you need sohee. if i show you that i know what it's like, would you like that?"

"w-what do you mean..?"

"if i come close baby, do you think you will like that? much closer?"

your breath hits sohee's lips, his desperate eyes plead you to make the first move, to make him realize he's not having another dream. instead, you cover his jaw with warm kisses, you suck a little on his skin, your fingers tangled in his hair. sohee grips his knees so tightly he can feel his nails digging into his pants. you trail your mouth down his neck, you discover every hidden mole on his throat, your teeth sink into his skin and you listen to sohee's whines with a smile. you draw your body closer, your hips pressing down on his. you tug a little on his tshirt to reveal his collarbone, tracing the curves with your tongue, and sohee swears he's going to lose his mind. he's going to wake up, and nothing is going to be real. or if it is, he's going to be home soon but empty, you steal everything, his brain, his heart, his lungs, his secrets. and when you suck on his shoulders to paint pretty red spots, it's like you're sucking his soul away. when you stand up to look at him, his eyes are heavy with need, his hair already feel damp and some strands stick to his temple, his lips are a darker shade of pink probably from staying between his teeth the whole time.

"are you scared sohee? because if you do, i know the way to make sure you never leave."

your voice turns into a whisper that sends a delicious shiver to his spine.

"baby would you like that?"

sohee finally looks into your eyes. the way he nods so eagerly and desperately makes you smile, you slowly roll your hips into his and watch his face contort in pleasure. his eyes flutter shut, his head falls back, exposing his neck. you immediately attack his skin again, and sohee's hands that clawed at his pants catch your shoulders, he pushes you closer to his body as you cover his throat with hot kisses. you can feel his hips rut into yours messily, the hard bulge growing in his clothes brushes you each time. you let all your weight on him and grind your core harder, this time sohee moans audibly. the noises he makes fall into your ears like a melody, one that stay in your mind and play over and over again. one that gets you obsessed.

sohee is breathless, he feels so hot it makes him dizzy. if you don't stop your actions anytime soon he will definitely cum in his pants. it's not new to him, but in front of you it's embarrassing. he wanted to hide. deep down, he wanted to have you watching him, he wanted you to know, to make him yours too, but his innocent facade is almost unbreakable. he's shy, he's embarrassed, you know you'll need so much more to melt his armor.

"sohee baby... how do you feel? tell me."

"mhh i... c-can i have more..."

you can finally feel the crack in his voice, you're slowly making your way inside his locked mind. your hand travels down his chest and under his tshirt that's starting to cling to him, your nails graze his skin and you can feel his shivers under your fingertips. you hips rock against his to a steady rhythm, sohee's hands finally resting on your waist after he found the courage to hold it. his high pitched whines fill your room, he can't hide the pleasure that courses through his veins and burns in his stomach. when you nibble on his earlobe, you feel sohee's grip tighten and he moans your name, his hips twitch against yours in a desperate need of release.

"you like that? better than your hand hm?"

"s-so much better..."

"right baby... i know..."

"please p-please don't stop i'm s-so close..."

it would be too easy to let sohee have his way. he guides your hips into his with weak hands, his moans grow louder each second. you finally stop all movements and you hear sohee's breath stop in a silent whimper, like a desperate cry. when you look at him, he's so pathetic, tears shine in his eyes and threaten to fall off his eyelashes, his face is flushed and his hair messy from how many times he pushed them away. his tshirt now sticks to his chest that moves heavily, and when you get up from his lap, you can see the wet spot that formed on his sweatpants from how much he's been leaking under you.

you walk around him, almost like a predator that finally trapped its prey. and that's how sohee feels like under your hungry gaze, as if you are going to eat him whole. you're already tearing up his mind, the flow of thoughts frozen from the pleasure so intense it makes his head spin. your hand holds his jaw from behind, you tilt his head the way you want and play with his face with your fingertips. each touch sends jolts of pleasure through sohee, making his cock twitch in his pants. the way you whisper in his ear has his eyes rolling back in his head.

"is that what you want sohee?"

"i want- i w-want it so much..."

"don't worry baby, i'll make you feel way better than in your dreams."

you kiss his temple, your hand rest on his neck and you push his head to the side. your lips go down his jaw while your hand goes under his damp tshirt, you rub his chest with your nails and watch him lean into your touch. sohee almost cries when your hands leave him again, as if being far from you is now painful. he doesn't know a world where your hands aren't on him anymore.

your hands hold his knees and you part his legs enough to place yourself in between. sohee can't get his eyes off you anymore, the mask he tried to keep on for so long finally breaks, he gets drunk on your touch, he craves your gaze into his, if he ever felt shame for a while, it got wiped out by the pleasure and the lust. your hand grabs the bulge between his legs, you massage him very slowly through his pants. it's a sweet torture but sohee wishes he could feel it everyday, all the time. you finally pull down his sweatpants, you lean closer into his thighs so you can give kisses to his cock through his underwear. the fabric is already wet from the amount of precum that keeps leaking from his swollen tip, your tongue traces the outline of his hard length through the fabric and sohee can barely hold it any longer.

"m-more... please g-give me more..."

"i know baby."

you finally slide sohee's boxers down and the heavy sigh he lets out once his cock is free has you shivering. it throbs painfully under your gaze, his pink tip desperately calling for you. you lift your eyes to meet sohee's when you open your mouth, you let your tongue rest flat on his slit. immediately sohee's hands cover his face but he can't hide the moan that erupts from his throat, and the others once your hand grab his dick. you let spit dribble from your tongue and down his length while you give him slow strokes, mixing it with his wet arousal.

sohee feels like he could cum at any moment, especially if you keep jerking him off with that look on your face. you take his tip between your lips and eagerly swirl your tongue around it, you just play with the head of his cock for a while until sohee's cries of pleasure get louder. his hands grip your head and his fingers tangle in your hair when you take him deeper inside your hot mouth. you feel him hit the back of your mouth, he's pushing your head down but you try to keep your own steady pace. the way your tongue goes all the way up his length and circle around his tip has sohee breaking apart, he can't stop himself from getting louder and louder. he can feel the tension so close to break and burn his insides, he feels like he's gonna catch on fire soon if you keep going.

you never planned to stop. you jerk him off a little more and tease his slit with your thumb while covering his cock with messy kisses, and when you put him back into your mouth you can tell sohee can't hold it any longer. you let him have his way just for once, his grip on your hair tightens and he fucks his hips up into your mouth to finally chase his orgasm. it comes crashing on him, he buries himself as deep as he can in your throat before stilling his hips. you feel his warm cum fill your mouth, you let it drip on your chin and down your neck. sohee finally lets go of your hair and lean back on the chair, he's spent and exhausted, he's convinced he'll never feel that kind of pleasure again. when he looks down and sees your face covered with his sticky load, he swears he could cum again right on the spot. you slowly get up and kiss him, you share with him nothing but roughness when you play with his tongue and taste his seeds with him. you leave him panting even more as if his breath isn't already ragged by the high he's coming back from.

sohee smiles like an idiot. he feels like he's in heaven, and heaven is definitely your room, with you in it. he feels like he doesn't need to hide anymore, he gets up from the chair and lets his hand rest on your cheek, wiping away the remains of his cum. his eyes are still blurry but the way he looks at you could almost melt your heart. you pull his sweatpants and underwear up and tidy up his shirt, you savor the confused look on sohee's face. you reach for his hand and walk him around your room, you head for the door. he's still as pathetic and clueless as ever. you open the door and drag him outside, he just stands there in complete disbelief. back from heaven and straight to hell.

"i never give pervs like you a second chance. hope you remember that day though, you'll never feel like that again even in your wildest dreams."

you close the door shut.

YAYYYYY PERV SOHEE YAYYYYYY i love him

[yourbuerokrat2]

An interesting aspect of Picard and Qs relationship is that as soon as Q is no longer parading around in a human body they probably live in different dimensions. Picard, to Q, being stuck in a threedimensional space and forced to only be able to experience time in a linear fashion. Meanwhile Q could exist in far more dimensions, more than the human mind could possibly comprehend. Which could translate Q being obsessed or even in love with him to a human being obsessed/in love with a manga/comic characer (except Q and Picard can actually interact with each other). So Picard is actually Qs 'blorbo' at best or, at worst, his 'waifu' in the eyes of the Continuum.

[theheadlessgroom]

https://beatingheart-bride.tumblr.com/post/714272738944155648/beatingheart-bride-theheadlessgroom

@beatingheart-bride

The opera went off without a hitch for its two first acts: No disembodied voices echoing around the auditorium (nor did the new chandelier, installed at the beginning of the year, rattle precariously above the audience’s heads; the police took great care to put men up near it, lest they have a repeat of Il Muto’s curtain call), no rats raining from the rafters, not even a whisper of a ghost being around. There was still tension felt among the cast, the crew, and the managers, but so far, all had gone well.

And all continued to go well as the third act began, as the Don, draped in a hooded black cloak, sought to seduce the beautiful Aminta, exuding confidence from his anonymity-at least, until Aminta herself proved to be just as bound and determined to seduce her mystery suitor, taking her would-be lover by surprise with her forward flirtations, as they together approached The Point of No Return.

Randall gulped from behind the veil as he watched Emily skip out onto the stage, singing cheerfully as she flounced around, spritely and light-footed (a small showcase of her dancing talents as well as her vocal ones): Truly, she was beautiful in the peachy tones of Aminta’s dress, evoking spring-turning-summer (especially with a rose blooming in her blonde locks), with her tall black boots and black trim of her gown hinting at a mature streak many often overlooked. She was everything he dreamed of in the role and more.

Am I a fool? he thought to himself as he watched her, preparing for their long-awaited duet: Was this even a good idea, putting himself out onstage in front of an ocean of people, right under the noses of the police? Should he have just stayed in the attic like Emily suggested in her letter? An uncertainty began to creep into his gut...

…but as soon as Emily looked at him, and he began to sing, none of that mattered to him now, as he found himself melting effortlessly into the role of Don Juan, just as she had so beautifully melted into the role of Aminta. To be quite honest, the title character was the only one he hadn’t made any casting suggestions for in the libretto, as a part of him had always longed to play it himself. He never, ever imagined that he ever would, granted, and yet...here he was: Singing for a captivated audience with his angel.

And right under Morgan’s nose too! he thought delightedly, catching a glimpse of the pianist in the pit as he turned all of his focus on Emily and their performance.

[lokilysolbitch]

i ran out of room in the tags but i want to make it known that this was only a small percentage of the things that got predicted. it's my turn to write a chapter now and i want my character to get a tattoo of 9 knives down her back bc it's a tarot reference but i'm afraid of what that might cause so i have not written said chapter. im literally just scared

Shout out to the day i killed the queen via AO3, legendary (name of the fanfic is jigens sick adventure, yes it is a sickfic)

[snekdood]

i think im allowed to assume someones consuming their kinks in a harmful-to-others way if I have first hand experience with them sexually abusing me, personally.

[cosmogyros]

.

[teddybeartoji]

18+ mdni; gn!reader

satoru likes jerking off in front of a mirror. no, scratch that – he fucking loves doing it.

fully bare, he sits on the bed in front of a body length mirror. the sun peeks from the window, kissing the freckles and scars on his body. there's a pink flush to his skin - his chest, his neck, his cheeks, the tips of his ears; he feels warm all over.

thighs spread wide open, he's leaned back on his one arm while his eyes are glued to his reflection in the mirror. his own hand feels hot on his tummy as he trails them over his pecs and his perked nipples. they're awfully sensitive and satoru can't help but hiss when he gives them a little squeeze. his bottom lip gets caught between his teeth and his dick twitches. he's so fucking hard.

pre-cum leaks from his aching tip, all swollen and deprived. he's been sitting here for a good while now – he loves edging himself; he conjures up the prettiest pictures of you in his head as he trails over his abs. he thinks about it being yours instead. your hand, your fingers.

he plays with his happy trail as he thinks about you nuzzling your face in it. his dick jumps again and he let's out a shaky laugh.

finally deciding to give in, he wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and his eyes almost cross at the touch. but he refuses to shut them – still keeping them trained on his own body through the reflection in front of him. he tightens his fist as he pushes down a little, putting more pressure onto his sensitive balls.

his head lolls to the side as he watches a glob of pre-cum slide down the side of his shaft. he thinks about you licking it up. he thinks about you giving his aching dick a kiss. his pearly white teeth sink into the plush flesh of his lower lip, almost strong enough to draw blood when he moves his fist up, twisting his wrist as he goes over the leaky tip.

his hair is tousled and he's starting to sweat – he looks fucking good. all the work he's putting in at the gym is really showing under the afternoon sun; his muscles look more defined with the layer of sweat glistening over them and he's proud of what he's seeing. it's hot. he isn't afraid to admit that he thinks that he's sexy, that he looks amazing like this. even his cock looks pretty; rock hard and pink, pre-cum weeping from the slit as it bounces at every thought of you inside his head.

you and your gorgeous smile. you and your loving eyes. you and your stupid jokes. you and your... body. he feels like a bit of a creep thinking about you in such dirty ways when you're not even his.

yet.

pushing off his hand, he spreads his legs a little wider as he leans forward, getting more comfortable. his fingers stay wrapped around his length while his free hand goes to his stomach. he's so sensitive to every single sensation – no matter whether it's from his own touch or somebody else's.

he discovered something new a few days ago... his belly button is sensitive, too. he pumps his cock slowly, almost painflully so as he traces his navel. goosebumps raise on his skin despite him feeling anything but cold; his head feels dizzy in the best way possible, his tummy nice and warm. satoru circles the hole before pushing the tip of his finger in. it's feels so weird and so fucking good.

the sight of him sort of fingering his own belly button is strange, but satoru has never been one to stray from experimentation. he loves to try new things, he loves to have fun – and if a silly thing like this makes him feel so ridiculously good, then so be it. he's not gonna be ashamed of that.

he can't wait to let you do it to him either. he's even a bit excited to see your reaction to the offer – would you be weirded out or would you be into it? would you tease him for it, call him names? tell him that he's a freak? a pervert? he pushes into the tiny hole a little harder at the thought of you making fun of him, his fist tightening around his cock.

he spits down onto his cock and speeds up just a little, enjoying the slick sounds that fill the room. he stares at his own adam's apple, he watches it bob as he swallows. he thinks about having something down his throat. he thinks about how it would look, how it would feel. he moves his free hand to touch the sensitive skin of his neck and puts some pressure on it – the broken moan that ripples from him echoes around the whole apartment and he just wishes you were here to listen to him.

his eyes are low as they set on his heavy cock again. he tries to imagine his hand as your own – he needs to do it. he wants you to touch him so badly, he wants you to make him feel good. of course, he thinks about making you feel good aswell; he spends so, so much time on thinking about giving you head. about the way you'd taste, the way you'd whine and whimper. how you'd squirm below him as he fucks you into overstimulation. but he does like to think about you down on his knees in front of him too. he wants to be greedy. he is greedy.

taking his hand from his neck, he now cups his balls with a pleased sigh. he massages them, letting his own spit and cum cover them completely. it's messy, just the way he likes it. he feels it dripping down to his asshole and he can't keep his lips from tugging upward. his eyes trail up his body through the reflection – his sweaty abs, his pecs, his flushed neck; his plump and now a little swollen lips and the pink tint that's dusted across his cheekbones. he's quite fond of his dimples and he loves seeing them. he thinks they make him even better looking, more charming. they do.

satoru thinks about the way you always poke them whenever you have the chance. would you do it now too that he's here jerking off to disgusting thoughts of you like the needy boy that he is? he thinks about the way you like to rest your head on his shoulder and hide your face into the crook of his neck whenever he tries to tease you a little. how warm your breath feels on his skin. how your lips brush against his pulse point.

fuck.

as he fondles with his balls, he gnaws on his lip because he needs to feel more. he wants you to bite it instead, he wants you to play with him instead. taking his hand from his crotch, he lets it travel all over his body again – his thighs, his waist, his lower tummy. everything feels so fucking good. his hips buck up into his fist when his fingers dance around his belly button once more. his head lolls back but he never takes his eyes off from himself in the mirror. he moves up to massage his pecs now, his sensitive nipples. he wants to feel your tongue on them. he can't stop thinking about it – your teethmarks around the buds, the bruises you'd leave behind.

he grinds his cock into the tight little hole he's made with his hand, lips permanently stretched into a sick grin because he knows it's coming already. the knot in his tummy keeps tightening, his need growing with every stroke he makes. he thinks about holding it off but decides that he won't do it today; he's meeting you in an hour – he's going to have to jerk off again after that anyway.

satoru plays with his nipple while rubbing the swollen tip of his cock with his palm and oh, fuck he's close. he thinks about how warm you'd feel around him. he thinks about your pretty face. he makes his fist even smaller and humps into it, mainly focusing on the tip. it's just so sensitive and it feels so fucking good. he thinks about you wrapping your lips around it, about you licking at the slit. he thinks about your smile. how much better your hand would feel on him. the wet noises that emit from the friction between his fingers and his cock make his heart beat even faster – dirty, dirty, dirty. he thinks about recording the sounds and sending them to you. he thinks about videoing himself through the mirror; he wants you to see what he's seeing.

every twitch and every spasm, the muscles he's worked so hard on, his dimples, his fingers, the mess he's making for you. he rubs his free hand over his tummy, his belly button and he thinks about your eyes and—

white spurts of cum land on his hands and his belly and his happy trail. satoru moans with a smile on his face - he doesn't hold back, now finally letting his eyes close as his head falls back. he keeps fucking into his fist despite how much it feels. he loves it.

after a good few seconds, he finally cracks open his eyes and peeks at himself again. he looks like a mess. it's perfect. he let's go off his softening dick, focusing on the cum adorning his skin instead. he takes a finger and swipes through the thick liquid; he drags it all over his lower stomach, playing with it like a child. he pushes some of it into his belly button and chuckles breathlessly at his own silly antics. he doesn't care.

his phone dings, signaling an incoming message and to his delight – it's you. satoru hums at the sight. it's a simple text, just something about buying him sweets from the store but it has his dick twitching against his thigh again.

maybe he has time for a round two before meeting you...

+ everybody say thank you logan we love you @staryukis this one is for you baby<333333

[dmitriene]

kind of continuation to this drabble

könig knows you're nothing like the other girls he was used to shag, and he's smitten by it, in the way you calmly agree and stay in his apartment, when after breakfast in bed he says that you're not going anywhere and gonna stay beside him, he's sure that you have some small job like as a charming waitress in a cafe, friends you would like to see, family after all, but you look at him through batting eyelashes and hum in agreement, stretching on the sheets beneath you.

he calls you his girlfriend as a test, and your eyes sparkle with naive adoration as you stretch your arms in his direction, making könig bend his whole body down to your level with rippling muscles, so you'll swipe your soft palms against his wide shoulders and loop your hands around his thick neck, pressing a smudgy kiss to his rough, stubbled jaw, nuzzling in his shoulder like some docile pet, only mewling adorably when he catches your lips into a sloppy, lewd kiss.

you really just stay, don't run away, don't call him a weird creep, use his bathroom to wash and wash loads of his thick, sticky cum out of your still aching, puffy pussy, without twitching when he suddenly decides to join you by snuggling up from behind, his bulky frame crowds almost all the space in the shower, shielding you from all the water that now drips down the broad expanse of his back, as his hardened, chubby cock presses against the small of your back.

könig is fisting the length with one of his free hands that aren't curled around the curve of your waist, creeping to paw at your soft breast, until you claw at his wrist when he guides his throbbing cock between your folds, and they're already slick with your tacky arousal, your spine arching delicately as you wiggle your supple ass, pressing back against his fat, leaking tip that nudges at your pulsing hole, letting him slip inside without a stretch, pussy comfortably loose as you whimper sweet, throaty mewl when he bottoms out.

you let him cream your cunt till it's leaking out of you again, oozing between your supple, wet thighs, legs shaking and starting to buckle beneath you as könig whines in your ear, biting at your lobe with hoarse moans, dumping load after load in your fluttering, gushy cunt, scooping you in his arms when your feet does give up beneath you, making him carry you out from the shower, and with hasty wipes of a towel against your smooth skin and between your legs, he carries you out to the living room.

könig makes you wear his clothes and just a pair of cotton panties beneath, and it's not a problem to you at all, you walk around his apartment just the way he wants, using his lap instead of a couch or a chair while in the kitchen, and you let him cum in your pussy even with your legs hoisted up on his shoulders as he rams in you with messy jerks of hips, sprawled on the kitchen table, so his cum would stain your panties and make you walk all oozing with his claim.

it's doesn't matter if your life now reminds one of a fleshlight, you ain't complaining, cuddling against könig's brawny chest for some head strokes and little rubs behind your ears, pressing kisses on his rough face, making könig grin in boyish, lopsided way, before moving his hand down to squeeze and grope at your round, doughy tits, calling you his albernes haustier, and like the obedient one, you just nod and smile adoringly.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[the-travelling-witch]

CUTE THINGS WITH HIM

summary: just some cute things they do in a relationship

pairings: atsumu :: osamu :: suna :: kita :: oikawa :: iwaizumi :: matsukawa:: semi :: akaashi :: kenma :: kuroo :: daichi :: suga :: sakusa :: komori :: futakuchi :: keishin x gn! reader (these characters just started adding themselves, i swear)

warnings: only my undying love for these characters

haikyuu masterlist || tokyo revengers version

Letting you stick your cold feet under his legs (with only minimal complaints) x Miya Atsumu

Atsumu is a whiny complainer at heart, so whenever you creep your frigid feet underneath his thighs while watching a movie, he’s doing exactly that: whine and complain. But he never pushes you away or moves his legs. Instead he drapes the blanket higher over you and tugs it in, his warm palms running up and down your calves caringly. He’s also bought you numerous pairs of fuzzy socks and cosy blankets, worrying aloud about your health and blood flow, especially in winter. Then again, it is a good excuse to pull you in closer and bundle you up in his comfy clothes, so who is he to complain, really?

Offering you his food x Miya Osamu

Osamu takes his food very seriously, still, he offers you the first bite without fail. You’re also his most important critic, always getting to taste test his creations, whether it’s for his shop or just for the two of you. He might roll his eyes playfully when you eye his food after saying you’re not hungry but he’ll still share. After all, seeing the content expression on your face as you chew your (or his) food is one of his favourite things.

Sending you stupid memes x Suna Rintarō

The fact that Suna has a near infinite amount of unflattering candids and other blackmail material of his friends on his phone is something you’re well aware of. So it shouldn’t be surprising either that he is digging up the most cursed reaction pics or posts to send them to you with nothing but ‘u’ following it. But, among all the weird stuff, he sends you cute animals cuddling and tags them with ‘us’. Every time you respond with ‘that could be us but you’re at practice’, his teammates come up to ask what he’s smiling about.

Buying flowers without occasion x Kita Shinsuke

Kita doesn’t believe in letting societally accepted commercial holidays dictate when he buys you flowers or chocolates or takes you out on a date. No, he prefers showing his love for you equally all year round. Oftentimes, that means you coming home to a bouquet of flowers or being told to keep your calendar clear for the weekend. To him, grand shows of affection once a year pale in comparison to a steady stream of adoration. After all, your relationship is built on the small acts of love you share each day.

Taking weird photos with his phone x Oikawa Tōru

There’s no room to argue that Oikawa and you trust each other blindly. Considering the circumstances of his career and the vigour of his adoring fans, you kinda have to. But Oikawa has always been very open and honest with you, even going so far as to outright tell you his phone’s passcode. And you use that knowledge wisely. No, not to go through his texts or social media. Instead you open his camera when he’s not around, taking a myriad of selfies or pictures of random objects near you for him to find later. After a night out with his highschool friends, Tōru might wake up to a pretty set of new wallpapers too.

“Helping” him work out x Iwaizumi Hajime

You’re not sure if you’re really all that helpful as you shuffle around your living room, handing Iwa water or a towel as he powers through his at home workout. Maybe ogling his biceps or the way his tank top clings to the defined pecs and abs underneath is what you contribute to this training session. Well, you’re good at that, anyway. But your time to shine comes as Iwa asks you to hold onto his legs as he does sit-ups, giving you an even better view. All your hard work is rewarded with the kiss he presses to your lips each time he leans up. 

“Is this guy bothering you” x Matsukawa Issei

Whenever you stub your toe on the edge of a drawer or bump your hip into the edge of a table, hissing at the shock and/or pain, Matsukawa is right beside you in seconds. Then, after assessing you’re not actually hurt, he turns towards the offending object with a glare. With his voice lowered by an octave or two, he’ll ask “Is this guy bothering you” before pretending to get ready for a fight with the big bad. It’s corny but you’d lie if you said it didn’t make you laugh.

Shared headphones and playlists x Semi Eita

Music is Semi’s passion, naturally he wants to share that part of his life with you. Not only does he play his own songs for you, he also shares his headphones with you, adding all the songs you like to your shared playlist. You’ve also started making recommendation playlists or playlists with songs that remind you of the other and swap them regularly. Driving with Semi is also the most fun, especially on late summer nights with the windows down, going nowhere in particular.

Understanding each other without words x Kozume Kenma

To outsiders, conversations between Kenma and you might seem a little court or even incomprehensible. He just happens to be the type that lets his actions speak rather than his words, unless he gets really fired up about something. Still, your communication seems to work perfectly - or maybe both of you just share a brain cell. Questions like “Have you seen my…” can just be left hanging like this as you’re already pointing out that his old Nekoma sweatpants are in the wash. But no conversations are clearer than the ones you can hold through eye contact alone. Sometimes rolling your eyes conveys more than a thousand words… or however that saying goes.

Letting you win x Kuroo Tetsurō

Despite his suit and tie career, Kuroo is still a playful guy at heart and he’s carrying that energy into your relationship. He also grew up around Kenma, so making a game out of ordinary stuff is normal to him. That said, even if he challenges you in a board or video game, he’ll let you win on purpose every now and then. Not enough to give himself away, but often enough to see your beaming grin. However, if it’s a physical contest like an arm wrestling match, he will let you win (or rather he won’t let you lose immediately) just to tease you over it. Aw c’mon, he knows you’re stronger than this, sweetheart.

Good morning/ good night texts x Sawamura Daichi

Daichi is a busy guy, often out of the house before you wake up or back in after you go to sleep. Depending on which shift he has to work and how your schedules line up, you might not see much of each other for some time. But that won’t stop him from being the sweetest partner, instead sending you good morning and good night texts as well as updates on his day/night, if he has the time. It’s something that came with the territory of not living together before, but the practice never really retired. Equally, it puts him in a good mood to see you update him on your day as well.

Bragging about you x Sugawara Kōshi

Suga is your number one fan, no doubt about it. Not only is he vocal about that to you but also everybody else, whether you’re there or not. Daichi and Asahi are kind of used to it already, but there is always some new unfortunate soul who gets to experience just how smitten he is with you. He never makes it uncomfortable but weaves his praise for you naturally into a conversation. And if it flusters you, that’s just all the better. Although, lately, the classes he’s teaching have picked up on it and are trying to stall for time by asking questions about you.

Writing notes x Sakusa Kiyoomi

This probably started out as something entirely practical. After moving in together, Sakusa just started labelling stuff, writing grocery shopping lists and sticking them to the fridge, especially on days where he left early for practice. By the time you pointed out he could just text you at any given time, he’d already gotten used to this little habit of his. But his messages had slowly turned from chore-related to reminding you to take care of yourself or informing you he prepped lunch for you to just telling you he loves you. The first time he wrote that last one, he blinked down at the note for a few moments before sticking it to the mug cabinet.

Midnight snack run x Komori Motoya

Obviously, Komori wishes his job wouldn’t pull him away from you as often as it does. Though that being said, it also makes coming home after an away game all that sweeter and he feels like the constant change of pace makes him cherish the moments you do get to spend together more than he already does. And he appreciates that you can indulge him, both in his lifestyle and whenever he gets a sudden burst of energy. So yeah, now you’re bundled up in one of his hoodies as you go on a late night snack run, your hand in his as you walk along the calm streets.

Remembering little things about you x Futakuchi Kenji

Futakuchi comes pre-installed with an attitude, no matter who you are to him, it’s his factory setting. And while he’s a lot softer on you as his partner, he’ll still give you a sarcastic quip or poke some fun at you when you complain about something to him. But he always listens carefully and commits it to memory. You offhandedly mentioned you’re running out of something? He adds it to his shopping list. You rant to him about a coworker who’s giving you trouble? Oh, he remembers everything you told him about that guy before (and he’s ready to drag him to hell and back if it makes you feel better). Whenever your birthday or an anniversary rolls around, he never has trouble picking out a gift for you; Kenji could list so many things you’re into or that you could have use for in your everyday life, it’s not even a challenge.

Getting into your hobbies x Ukai Keishin

Keishin has got to be one of the most supportive partners ever. Whatever you set your mind to or whichever hobby you dive into, he’s there to root for you. But he doesn’t stop there; he reads up on your interests, so he can actively participate in the conversation when you talk about them. Similarly, he also adapts to your lifestyle and tries to show up for you in all walks of life. You, on the other hand, also get involved in his life too; his parents were keen to meet you, considering they hounded Keishin to get married in his 20s already. He’d also be over the moon if you showed interest in his work as a coach and met the Karasuno Volleyball Club.

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[shiegra]

super brief thoughts on Li Su Su

I feel like I ragged a little on her in the last post and I want to clarify - I find both her book and show counterparts fascinating. While I do love the uneasy-frenemy banter in the books between Li Su Su and Tantai Jin, where they always know the other is up to something and all their repartee has the edge of a knife even as they grow to have a strange understanding and twisted fascination of the other deeper than anyone else’s -

The narrative as it stood, this serial oft-travelogue in that subgenre of batshit action and over the top characters, would have been harder to sell on screen. I think they made an excellent choice to focus on Tantai Jin as a more complex, nuanced character and build up his personal journey. While the webnovel’s fast pace and action could carry the roadtrip adventures as they meandered back to main plot, both budget and the need for consistent overarching story structure complicate that for show.

(I also think this politely avoided some incredibly Unfortunate Implications regarding people with antisocial personality disorders due to the in-your-face allegory lol.)

In doing so they had to change up her character, and possibly played it safe due to genre conventions leaned into her directness to keep the plot moving. (Given the care and energy with which they fleshed out the two biggest secondary female characters.) But it’s also fascinating to me because even her lighter show characterization feels like it’s calling back to book characterization - but book characterization from the second dream, of her younger mischievous fairy self before the weight of apocalypse crushed her into what she is in the opening of the book.

(Plus on just a personal level maybe partly due to early fandoms I had and neglected female characters there, female characters with somewhat messy writing but who are so fascinating to explore the implications and potential layers of are like catnip to me.)

[pucksandpower]

Perfect Fit

Day 5 → Size Difference 💋 Oscar Piastri

Warnings: 18+ content

Kinktober Masterlist

“You sure she doesn’t snap in half when you’re together?” Lando’s voice rings out over the steady hum of the paddock, casual, like he’s asking about the weather.

Oscar’s head jerks up, his eyebrows knitting together. “What?”

“You know …” Lando gestures vaguely with his hand, as if the meaning will somehow fill the air between them. “You and her. She’s, like, tiny. Can’t imagine it’s easy for you.”

Oscar frowns, confused for a second before the meaning of Lando’s words sinks in. Lando is grinning like he’s delivered the world’s best punchline, but something twists in Oscar’s chest. The words linger. Too long.

“Mate, seriously?” Oscar scoffs, trying to laugh it off, but there’s an odd tension in his voice. “That’s what you’re thinking about?”

Lando shrugs, all casual, like he hasn’t just dropped a grenade between them. “Just making conversation. Didn’t mean anything by it.”

Oscar doesn’t respond, choosing instead to shove Lando lightly in the shoulder, pushing past him. His heart beats a little too fast, and he finds himself suddenly hyper-aware of the weight of Lando’s comment.

He tries to shake it off, but the thought is like an itch at the back of his mind, one he can’t quite reach to scratch. Size. How could he have never noticed it before? Of course, he knew you were smaller — he had to lean down to kiss you, had to watch his step to not bowl you over in tight spaces. But he’d never really thought about it. Not like that.

Now, though … now he can’t seem to stop thinking about it.

Later that evening, he’s at your apartment. You’re sitting cross-legged on the couch, flipping through some magazine, while he stands in the kitchen, mindlessly sipping from a water bottle. His eyes keep drifting over to you, studying the way you’re curled up. Small, Lando’s words repeat in his head. So much smaller.

You glance up and catch him staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” he says quickly, too quickly. You squint, unconvinced.

“Oscar,” you say, drawing out his name like you’re prying for a confession. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he repeats, but the tension in his shoulders betrays him.

You set the magazine down, leaning back against the cushions. “You’re staring at me like I’ve grown a second head or something.”

Oscar clears his throat, still not moving from his spot by the counter. “It’s not — I mean, Lando said something stupid earlier.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Lando always says stupid things.”

He chuckles, but the sound is half-hearted. “Yeah, but this was, like, extra stupid.”

“What’d he say?”

Oscar hesitates, scratching the back of his neck. “It’s dumb, really.”

“Now you have to tell me,” you say, tilting your head, that teasing smile starting to curl at your lips. You always get that look when you know he’s holding something back, and he knows you won’t let it go until he spills.

He sighs, finally pushing away from the counter and walking over to sit beside you on the couch. “It’s just … he made some joke about, uh … about our size difference.”

Your brows furrow. “What about it?”

Oscar pauses, trying to find the right words. “He basically said … I don’t know. That it must be … hard. You know, because you’re, uh, smaller than me.”

Your lips press together, a faint blush creeping up your neck as the meaning hits. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Oscar lets out a breath, rubbing his palms over his jeans. “I didn’t think much of it at first, but now I can’t stop … noticing it.”

There’s a beat of silence between you, the kind that feels heavier than usual.

You swallow, shifting a little on the couch to face him. “Is it weird for you?” You ask quietly. “Our size difference?”

Oscar’s head snaps up, eyes wide. “No — no, it’s not weird. It’s not like that. I’ve just … I never really thought about it before. And now it’s in my head.”

“So it’s in your head that I’m small?” You ask, a teasing edge to your voice, though there’s a hint of nervousness underneath it.

He laughs softly. “It’s not just that you’re small. It’s … everything. Like, I never thought about how I have to be careful with you. When I hold you, or when we’re … close.”

You tilt your head, curious. “You don’t think about it when we’re close?”

“I mean, I think about it,” he admits, his voice dropping. “But not in a bad way. I just-” He falters, searching for the right words. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Your heart skips a beat at his honesty, the vulnerability that’s starting to seep through the cracks. You reach out, placing a hand on his knee. “You wouldn’t hurt me, Oscar.”

“I know that,” he says, his voice softer now, almost a whisper. “But I guess … sometimes I just worry that I might. Without meaning to.”

The air feels thick between you, charged with something unsaid. You chew on your bottom lip, considering his words, the way he’s looking at you now — like he’s seeing you in a new light, or maybe just realizing something that’s been there all along.

“I don’t mind that we’re different sizes,” you say quietly, and your voice is sincere, even if there’s an underlying nervousness. “I actually … I like it.”

Oscar’s eyes flicker with surprise. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” You nod, your hand still resting on his knee. “I like that you’re taller, and that you can hold me, and that I feel … safe with you.”

Something shifts in Oscar’s expression. It’s subtle, but you see the way his shoulders relax, the tension that’s been building all evening starting to fade away. He reaches out, gently tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You feel safe with me?”

“Of course I do,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper now. “You’re … I don’t know. You’re so careful with me. I can feel it when we’re together.”

Oscar’s hand lingers by your face, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “I just … I don’t want to screw this up,” he admits, his voice raw. “I care about you too much to mess this up.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat. “You’re not messing anything up, Oscar. You’re being … you.”

He leans in closer, his forehead almost resting against yours. “I don’t want to be weird about this,” he says softly. “But after Lando’s stupid comment, it’s like … it’s stuck in my head. And now I’m overthinking everything.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “You’re overthinking it because Lando’s an idiot.”

Oscar laughs too, the sound breaking the tension a little. “Yeah, he really is.”

You shift a little closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “You don’t need to worry about our size difference,” you say gently. “I don’t.”

He nods, though there’s still a flicker of hesitation in his eyes. “It’s just … I’ve never been with someone who’s, like … so much smaller than me. I don’t want to … I don’t know, hurt you.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, your voice steady. “I trust you, Oscar. I wouldn’t be with you if I didn’t.”

Oscar’s eyes search yours, as if he’s trying to find some reassurance in your words, something to silence the doubts that Lando’s careless joke planted in his mind. Slowly, he leans in, pressing his lips to yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away — the worries, the overthinking, the stupid comments.

It’s just the two of you, and in that kiss, there’s no size difference, no hesitation. Just you and him, connected in a way that feels effortless.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, and you can feel his breath, warm and steady. “You’re sure?” He whispers, his voice laced with vulnerability.

You smile, your hand finding his. “I’ve never been more sure.”

Oscar lets out a breath, his lips curling into a soft smile. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

The tension between you melts away, replaced by a quiet understanding, a mutual trust that wasn’t spoken but was felt in every word, every touch. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he wraps his arm around you, pulling you closer, as if to prove to himself that he can hold you without worry.

And for the first time since Lando’s stupid joke, Oscar doesn’t think about the size difference. He just thinks about you, and how perfectly you fit in his arms.

***

As you and Oscar walk through the doors of your hotel suite, the adrenaline from the day still buzzes between you both. The aftermath of the Hungarian Grand Prix win feels almost surreal, hanging in the air between his excited glances and your proud smiles.

Oscar drops his race gear bag on the floor, exhaling loudly as he runs a hand through his messy hair. “God, I still can’t believe it. I actually won.”

You grin, closing the door behind you. “I told you, didn’t I? You’ve been ready for this. You’ve always been ready.”

He turns toward you, his face lighting up in a way that makes your heart skip. He looks different tonight — his usual quiet confidence magnified by the thrill of victory. There’s a hunger in his gaze, something deeper than just excitement for the race.

“It feels … different now,” he admits, stepping closer. “Like, I knew I could win, but doing it? Crossing that line first? Hearing the crowd?” He trails off, his eyes locking on yours, and for a moment, everything else in the world disappears.

You step closer, resting your hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. “You were incredible out there.”

Oscar’s hand comes up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. His voice drops lower, more intimate. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. After the race, I just wanted to get back here. With you.”

You bite your lip, the tension between you sparking to life. There’s something in the air tonight, something that feels inevitable. The closeness, the energy — it’s all leading somewhere.

Oscar’s lips hover just above yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I need you,” he whispers, the rawness of his voice sending shivers down your spine.

Your response is immediate, instinctual. “Then take me.”

His mouth crashes against yours, urgent and heated, and suddenly, all the restraint he’s ever shown around you evaporates. His hands are everywhere — on your waist, in your hair, pulling you closer as if he can’t stand the space between you. You’re breathless as he backs you up toward the bed, his kisses growing more fervent, more desperate.

When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, Oscar pulls away just enough to look at you, his eyes dark with something deeper than you’ve seen before. “Are you sure?” He asks, his voice thick with both desire and hesitation. “I don’t want to rush this.”

You’re already reaching for the hem of his shirt, tugging it over his head in one swift motion. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

The sight of his bare chest, muscles taut and glistening under the dim hotel lights, makes your stomach flip. You’ve seen him shirtless before, but tonight it feels different. He’s yours tonight.

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his eyes raking over your body as if trying to memorize every inch of you. “God, you’re beautiful,” he murmurs, his fingers grazing over your hips, lifting your shirt just enough to slide his hands underneath.

You shiver at the contact, leaning into him as he slowly works your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside. His hands linger on your skin, tracing patterns that leave your skin tingling.

As his fingers move to unbutton your jeans, Oscar hesitates for a second. “I don’t want to … hurt you,” he says softly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

You shake your head, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands. “You won’t. I trust you.”

That seems to be all the encouragement he needs. Oscar quickly strips you of your jeans, his hands trailing up and down your thighs, his gaze fixed on you like you’re the most important thing in the world. And then, for a moment, he pauses.

His eyes drop lower, and when he sees you in nothing but your underwear, something primal flashes across his face. You can see the shift in him — the boyish uncertainty replaced by something darker, more insistent.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, almost to himself. His hands tremble slightly as he runs them over your hips, then slowly slides your panties down your legs. The sight of you bare, exposed for him, seems to steal his breath.

You reach out, your fingers brushing over the waistband of his jeans. “Your turn,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Oscar quickly complies, undoing his belt and pushing his jeans down. But when he finally kicks them off, and his boxers follow, you feel your breath catch in your throat. He’s … big. Much bigger than you expected. The sight of him has your heart racing, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding through you.

His size suddenly makes Lando’s stupid joke replay in your head, but instead of fear, you feel a strange sense of anticipation building inside you. The sight of him, hard and ready, only makes you want him more.

But Oscar hesitates, his eyes darting between you and himself, concern flickering in his expression. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he says again, his voice more serious now. “You’re so … small.”

Your lips part, a flush creeping up your neck. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure, but the truth slips out before you can stop it. “I can take it,” you whisper, your voice shaking with need. “I want it.”

Oscar’s eyes widen, and for a moment, he seems at a loss for words. His hands shake slightly as they slide up your thighs, his fingers brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs. He takes his time, his touch slow and deliberate, like he’s savoring every second.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says softly, his eyes locked on yours as he eases a finger inside you. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, your body tensing for a moment before you relax into his touch. “Are you okay?”

You nod quickly, your breaths coming in short, shallow bursts. “I’m okay,” you manage to say, your voice breathless. “Please, Oscar. Don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. He adds another finger, his movements slow and steady as he works you open, his thumb circling your clit with just enough pressure to make you writhe beneath him. Your body arches off the bed, your hands gripping the sheets as you try to hold on to the edge of your sanity.

“You’re so tight,” he murmurs, almost to himself, his brows furrowing in concentration. “I need to make sure you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” you breathe, though your voice is shaky with both nerves and desire.

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he continues to stretch you with his fingers. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, his voice a mix of concern and restraint.

You bite your lip, your body trembling with anticipation. “I know. But I want you, Oscar. I want all of you.”

His jaw clenches, and for a moment, he pauses, as if weighing the gravity of what’s about to happen. But then he nods, his eyes locking on yours as he finally positions himself between your legs. His hands grip your hips, his touch firm but gentle.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” you breathe, your heart pounding in your chest. “Please.”

Oscar takes a deep breath, and then, slowly — agonizingly slowly — he begins to push inside you. The stretch is immediate, and your body tenses as you feel the overwhelming pressure of him filling you. It’s more than you expected — more than you’ve ever felt before. A sharp gasp escapes your lips, and for a moment, you wonder if it’s too much.

Oscar freezes, his eyes wide with concern. “Am I hurting you?”

You shake your head quickly, though your breath is shaky. “It’s just … a lot. But I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He bites his lip, clearly unsure, but he keeps going, inch by inch, until he’s fully inside you. The sensation is intense — painful at first, but as your body adjusts, the pain quickly morphs into something else. Something deeper. Something euphoric.

Oscar is still, hovering above you, his chest heaving as he struggles to keep himself in check. “God, you’re … you’re so tight,” he whispers, his voice strained. “I can feel … I can see it …”

You look down, and your breath catches in your throat. You can see the outline of him, pressing against your lower stomach, and the sight is enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Oscar’s eyes are glued to the sight as well, his hands gripping your hips tighter. “Holy … I can see myself inside you,” he breathes, his voice thick with awe. “I’m not hurting you?”

You shake your head, your body trembling with a mix of pleasure and disbelief. “No. It feels … it feels incredible.”

He lets out a shaky breath, his eyes darkening as he slowly pulls back, only to push into you again, the movement sending a wave of pleasure through your body. You moan, your hands gripping his shoulders as he begins to move, his thrusts slow and controlled at first, but growing more urgent as the pleasure builds between you.

Oscar’s breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes never leaving the sight of himself inside you. “You’re so … perfect,” he groans, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through you, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. His movements grow more desperate, the tension between you building to an almost unbearable intensity. Your body is on fire, every nerve alight as he fills you completely. You can feel him so deep, every inch of him stretching you in ways you’ve never experienced before.

And then, just as the pressure becomes too much, you tip over the edge.

Your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing around him, muscles tightening and pulsing in rhythmic waves. The pleasure is blinding, sharp, your breath hitching as you cry out his name. You’ve never felt anything like it, the intensity of the release leaving you shaking beneath him, your legs trembling as you clutch at his shoulders.

The sudden tightening of your body around him pulls a deep groan from Oscar’s throat, and you feel him lose control. His thrusts falter, becoming erratic as he buries himself inside you one last time. His jaw clenches, his eyes squeezed shut as his own orgasm rips through him. His release is overwhelming — hot and thick, spilling into you with an intensity that leaves you both breathless.

Oscar collapses against you, his forehead resting on your shoulder as he gasps for air. You can feel him still twitching inside you, the last remnants of his orgasm making him shudder against your body. He’s still buried deep, his cock pulsing inside you as he fills you so completely it almost feels unreal.

You’re both silent for a moment, just breathing together, the weight of what just happened settling between you. Then, slowly, Oscar lifts his head, his eyes hazy and dazed as he looks down at you.

“Are you okay?” He whispers, his voice rough, concern flickering in his eyes even as he struggles to catch his breath.

You nod, a breathless laugh escaping your lips. “I’m more than okay.”

His gaze softens, and his hand moves down to your stomach, where you can feel an odd fullness, a strange weight that wasn’t there before. His palm rests over your belly, and when you both look down, you see it — the way your stomach has a slight bulge, rounded out from how much he’s filled you.

Oscar’s eyes widen, his hand pressing down gently as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “I … did I do that?” He asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You bite your lip, heat flooding your cheeks as you nod. “I think so.”

A low groan escapes him, his eyes glued to the sight of your swollen belly. “Jesus … that’s … fuck, that’s so hot,” he mutters, almost to himself, his hand rubbing slow, gentle circles over the small bump.

His obsession with it sends a new wave of heat through you. The feeling of being so full, so utterly claimed by him, is intoxicating. You reach down, covering his hand with yours, pressing it harder against your belly. “You like it?” You ask, teasingly, though you already know the answer.

Oscar’s eyes flash up to yours, dark and filled with something primal. “Are you kidding? I’ve never seen anything like this. I can’t … I can’t stop looking at it.”

He keeps rubbing your belly, his fingers tracing over the slight rise, his gaze fixed on the way your body holds all of him. You shiver beneath his touch, the sensation of his hand against your skin sending jolts of pleasure through you. You can feel him starting to soften inside you, but there’s still a delicious fullness that leaves you squirming, your body craving more despite how completely wrecked you feel.

Oscar seems to notice, his eyes narrowing slightly as his hand trails lower, his fingers brushing against your sensitive clit. You gasp, your body jerking in response, and he smiles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

“You’re still sensitive,” he murmurs, his thumb circling your bundle of nerves with gentle pressure. “I can feel it.”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a moan as he continues to tease you, his movements slow and deliberate. “Oscar …” you breathe, your voice trembling. “I don’t think I can …”

But you can. The tension in your body builds again so quickly, it’s almost dizzying. His touch is relentless, his thumb rubbing slow, firm circles that drive you insane. The combination of the fullness in your belly and the stimulation at your core is overwhelming, your body teetering on the edge of another orgasm before you can even process it.

“I can feel how tight you still are,” Oscar whispers, his voice husky as he watches you squirm beneath him. “God, you’re so perfect.”

His words, his touch, the sight of him above you — it’s all too much. Your body arches off the bed, a sharp cry escaping your lips as you fall over the edge again, your second orgasm hitting you harder than the first. The pleasure is intense, bordering on painful as your muscles contract around him, your body shaking with the force of it.

Oscar groans, his hand still rubbing slow circles over your belly as he watches you come undone beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “You’re so beautiful like this.”

You gasp for air, your body trembling as the waves of pleasure slowly subside, leaving you feeling utterly spent. Oscar finally stops his teasing, his hand still resting on your belly as he leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Are you okay?” He asks again, his voice gentle, almost tender.

You nod, a lazy smile spreading across your face. “Yeah … more than okay.”

He chuckles softly, shifting his weight to lie beside you, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulls you close. His hand remains on your belly, though, still fascinated by the slight swell he’s caused.

“I can’t believe you’re mine,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your temple.

You turn to face him, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over his chest. “I’m the lucky one,” you whisper back, your heart swelling with affection for him.

For a while, you both just lie there, wrapped up in each other, the weight of what just happened settling in. There’s no rush, no urgency — just the quiet intimacy of being together after something so intense.

Oscar’s hand continues to rub slow, soothing circles over your belly, and you feel yourself slowly drifting toward sleep, your body completely relaxed and satisfied. Just before you drift off, you hear Oscar’s soft voice in your ear, filled with quiet wonder.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get over how perfectly you fit me.”

And in that moment, you know that nothing has ever felt more right.

***

The morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft rays of sunlight across the hotel room. You stir in the bed, blinking your eyes open, the haze of sleep still thick in your mind. As you stretch, your entire body reminds you of the events from the night before. Every muscle feels heavy, a delicious soreness radiating from deep within you. You smile to yourself, the memory of Oscar’s hands on your body, his whispers in your ear, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine.

Your bladder protests, urging you out of bed, but as soon as you shift to swing your legs over the side of the bed, a sharp jolt of soreness runs up your thighs. You pause, blinking in confusion, then try again — more gingerly this time. Your legs are stiff, the muscles weak and uncooperative as you push yourself to stand.

You barely make it two steps before your legs give out beneath you.

The floor rushes up to meet you, and with a soft thud, you crumple into a heap on the carpet. A surprised gasp escapes your lips, and before you can process what’s happened, Oscar is jolting awake beside you.

“Shit — what was that?” He mumbles groggily, but the second he sees you on the floor, his eyes go wide, panic flashing across his face. “Oh my God, are you okay?”

He’s out of bed in an instant, rushing to your side, his hands gripping your shoulders as he kneels next to you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

You can’t help but laugh softly, though your body feels like it’s been through a marathon. “I’m fine, I just …” You bite your lip, wincing as you try to shift. “I guess my legs don’t really work right now.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in concern, and he gently lifts you, pulling you into his arms and carrying you back to the bed like you weigh nothing. “What do you mean your legs don’t work?” His voice is tight, laced with worry, and he lays you down carefully, as if he’s afraid you’ll break.

You groan softly as you sink back into the mattress, your legs still trembling from the effort. “I’m just … really sore. Like, everywhere.”

Oscar’s face pales, and you can see the guilt washing over him in an instant. “Oh my God, I hurt you, didn’t I?” His voice is barely a whisper, his hands hovering over you as if he’s afraid to touch you again. “I knew I was too rough. I knew I was too big. I’m so sorry, I-”

“Hey, no,” you interrupt, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “It’s not like that. I’m just sore from … you know.” You feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you manage a small smile. “It’s a good kind of sore.”

Oscar shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “No, no, this isn’t okay. I shouldn’t have pushed you like that. I should’ve been more careful.”

You let out a soft laugh, though it’s strained as you shift slightly in bed. “Oscar, I’m fine. Really. I feel amazing, actually. This is just … the aftermath.” You wiggle your toes experimentally, and while the soreness is still there, it’s more of a reminder of the pleasure you felt last night than actual pain.

Oscar isn’t convinced. He sits on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. “You couldn’t even walk this morning because of me,” he mutters, his voice low and filled with guilt. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

The tenderness in his voice makes your heart ache, and you sit up slowly, reaching out to touch his arm. “Oscar, you didn’t hurt me,” you say softly. “You made me feel incredible. Yes, I’m sore, but it’s because of how good it was. Not because you did anything wrong.”

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with uncertainty. “Are you sure? I mean, you literally fell out of bed.”

You bite your lip, holding back a grin. “Yeah, well … maybe that’s just proof of how well you did.”

A flicker of amusement crosses his face, but the worry still lingers. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

You shake your head, your hand moving to rest on his thigh. “No. I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve never felt like that before, Oscar. You didn’t hurt me — you made me feel alive.”

His expression softens at your words, but you can still see the guilt etched in the lines of his face. He exhales slowly, his hand covering yours on his thigh. “I just … I don’t want to ever do something that makes you feel like you can’t even move the next day.”

“Well,” you say, biting your lip playfully, “if it’s the kind of thing that leaves me this sore, I think I could get used to it.” You wink at him, trying to lighten the mood, but Oscar’s eyes widen, and he groans.

“You’re impossible, you know that?”

You laugh softly, wincing at the tightness in your hips as you shift again. “I mean, there are worse ways to be sore. Besides, this is kind of your fault. You can make it up to me.”

Oscar’s brows furrow in confusion. “How?”

You give him a mischievous look. “By doing it all over again and making sure I can never walk properly again.”

He blinks at you, momentarily stunned. “You’re joking, right?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

Oscar stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing as if he’s trying to find the right words. “I — but … you’re already sore.”

You lean back against the pillows, a satisfied smirk playing on your lips. “Exactly. So you might as well make it count.”

For a second, he’s speechless. Then, his lips twitch, and a slow smile spreads across his face. “You’re serious?”

You nod, biting your lip to hide your grin. “Very.”

He laughs, the sound low and warm, and you can see the tension start to melt away from his shoulders. “You’re unbelievable.”

You shrug, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “I have a high pain tolerance. Besides, I think I deserve a little reward after surviving last night, don’t you?”

Oscar’s smile fades slightly, and he looks at you with a mix of affection and disbelief. “You’re really okay?”

You nod, your hand squeezing his thigh again. “More than okay, Oscar. I’m serious — I want you again. Even if it leaves me sore for a week.”

His expression softens, and he leans down, brushing a gentle kiss against your forehead. “You’re something else, you know that?”

You grin up at him. “I try.”

Oscar’s hand trails down your side, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin as if testing how much you can handle. “I don’t want to push you too hard,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your temple.

“You’re not pushing me,” you whisper, your heart pounding in your chest. “I want this.”

He hesitates for a moment, then nods, his hand moving lower, tracing over your stomach and down between your legs. The touch is featherlight, testing, but even that small contact sends a shiver through your body.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” Oscar says, his voice low and serious, but you can already feel the heat building between you again, and the soreness fades into the background of your mind, overwhelmed by the need rising in you.

“I will,” you breathe, already arching into his touch.

Oscar’s lips find yours, soft at first, but quickly growing more urgent as the tension between you sparks back to life. His hand slides lower, teasing you with slow, deliberate strokes, and you can feel yourself growing wet again, your body responding to him despite the lingering ache.

He pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “You really want to do this again?”

You nod, breathless. “I need you.”

That’s all it takes for Oscar to give in. He shifts above you, his body pressing against yours as he positions himself between your legs. The weight of him is comforting, familiar, and despite the soreness, you crave the feeling of him filling you again.

Oscar moves slowly, carefully, but the stretch is just as intense as last night. You gasp as he pushes inside, your body still adjusting to the sheer size of him, but it’s not painful this time — just overwhelming in the best way.

“Oh my God,” Oscar groans, his head dropping to rest against your shoulder as he pushes deeper. “You’re still so tight.”

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he moves inside you, the pleasure building quickly despite the soreness in your muscles. The mix of discomfort and ecstasy is intoxicating, and soon, you’re lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, your mind blank except for the sensation of him filling you completely.

Oscar’s hands grip your hips, his movements growing more urgent as he finds his rhythm. You can tell he’s holding back, trying not to hurt you, but even with the restraint, the intensity of it all has you teetering on the edge again.

“You’re so perfect,” Oscar murmurs against your skin, his breath hot on your neck. “I can’t get enough of you.”

You shudder beneath him, your hands gripping his shoulders as you feel yourself nearing the edge once again. “Don’t stop,” you gasp, your body arching into his as the pleasure coils tight inside you, threatening to snap.

Oscar groans in response, his pace picking up, each thrust hitting deeper, harder, until you're barely holding on. You can feel the intensity building between you, the friction, the connection driving you closer to the edge. His hands grip your hips tighter, his breath hot against your neck as he murmurs, “God, you feel so good. I could do this forever.”

The words send a thrill through you, and you grip him harder, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Oscar,” you breathe, your voice trembling as the pressure inside you mounts, overwhelming, unstoppable.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he drives into you again, deeper than before. “Come for me,” he whispers, his voice husky with desire. “I want to feel you.”

That’s all it takes. His words send you spiraling, your body clenching around him as your orgasm crashes over you in waves. You cry out, your legs trembling, your hands gripping him as tight as you can, pulling him closer as your entire body shakes with the force of your release.

Oscar groans as your body tightens around him, his control slipping as he watches you fall apart beneath him. His rhythm falters, then he pushes deep one last time, his release hitting with a shudder as he spills inside you. His breath is ragged, his body trembling as he holds himself over you, the weight of his body grounding you as the aftershocks of your orgasm pulse through you.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of your breathing, your bodies tangled together in the aftermath. Oscar collapses against you, his head resting on your chest as he tries to catch his breath. You run your fingers through his hair, a soft, satisfied smile on your lips as the warmth of his body soothes your soreness.

After a long silence, he finally speaks, his voice soft and a little shaky. “You … okay?”

You laugh softly, your body feeling like it’s been thoroughly worked over, but in the best way possible. “Yeah,” you whisper, brushing his hair back. “More than okay.”

He lifts his head to look at you, his eyes filled with affection but also a hint of lingering concern. “I didn’t hurt you?”

You shake your head, smiling up at him. “No, you didn’t hurt me. You were perfect.”

He relaxes, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Good,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Because I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

You hum in contentment, your body still buzzing from the intensity of it all. “Just make sure I can walk by tomorrow, okay?”

Oscar chuckles, his hand trailing down to your hip as he pulls you close. “No promises.”

***

Oscar steps out of the car first, scanning the airstrip where McLaren’s private jet waits. His brow furrows slightly, a flicker of concern in his eyes. The morning sun is harsh, casting long shadows on the tarmac, but his focus is entirely on you. He turns back, opening the car door carefully, like he’s preparing for something delicate.

You wince as you try to swing your legs out of the car. The soreness from last night has reached a whole new level, and every movement feels like your muscles are made of lead. You’d tried standing when you first woke up, but it was a no-go. Now, as you attempt to shift out of the car, it’s confirmed: you really can’t walk.

Oscar leans down, his hands gently coming to rest on your hips. “Ready?” His voice is soft, a little sheepish, like he’s still not over the guilt from earlier.

“Do I have a choice?” You joke, though your body aches in a way that’s both painful and satisfying, a reminder of last night’s passion.

He gives you a small smile, his eyes soft as he reaches under your knees and lifts you effortlessly into his arms, bridal style. You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, leaning into his chest as he straightens up.

“Okay, this is officially ridiculous,” you mutter, burying your face in his shoulder, half-embarrassed, half-amused.

Oscar chuckles, holding you close. “You’re the one who said you wanted to make sure you couldn’t walk properly again.”

You lift your head slightly, meeting his gaze. “I didn’t think you’d take it so literally.”

He grins, but you can see the hint of worry still lingering in his eyes. “Too late now. Besides, I think I might enjoy this.”

“You enjoy having to carry me across an airstrip in front of your entire team?” You raise an eyebrow, trying to keep your tone light, though you know it’s about to get a lot more embarrassing once people start noticing.

Oscar shrugs, shifting you slightly in his arms as he starts walking toward the jet. “I enjoy taking care of you.”

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your earlier embarrassment fading. He’s so earnest, so gentle, even now, and it’s hard to feel anything but safe in his arms.

As you near the jet, you can already see the crew milling around, loading luggage and prepping for departure. And, of course, Lando is leaning casually against the stairs leading up to the plane, a mischievous grin spreading across his face as soon as he spots the two of you.

“Well, well, well,” Lando calls out, his voice full of teasing glee. “What do we have here? Oscar playing the hero?”

You groan softly, burying your face in Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please no,” you mutter under your breath.

Oscar doesn’t slow down as he approaches, though you can feel his body tense slightly. He’s protective, even if he’s trying to laugh it off. “Don’t start, Lando,” he warns, though there’s a playful edge to his voice.

But Lando’s never been one to back off, especially when there’s an opportunity to tease his teammate. He pushes off the stairs and stands directly in front of you two, hands on his hips. “What, did she trip or something? Or is this …” He pauses dramatically, raising an eyebrow. “Is this because of Sunday night?”

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks immediately. You’ve had your fair share of teasing from Lando before, but this — this is next-level mortifying. Oscar adjusts his hold on you slightly, and you can feel the subtle tightening of his grip, like he’s shielding you from whatever’s coming.

“Lando,” Oscar says, his tone warning, but not harsh. “Seriously.”

But Lando’s not done. His eyes dart between you and Oscar, and his grin widens. “Wait — wait. Hold on. Is she not able to walk?”

You don’t say anything, but your silence must be enough because Lando’s grin fades, replaced by a look of genuine shock. “Oh my God. You’re actually serious.”

Oscar’s jaw tightens, and he shifts you in his arms again, turning slightly like he’s ready to move past Lando and end this conversation. But Lando steps closer, his playful demeanor slipping into something more serious as he realizes the situation is … real.

“Mate,” Lando says, his voice lower now, almost incredulous. “Did you … I mean, you didn’t-”

“No,” Oscar cuts him off quickly, his voice firm but not defensive. “I didn’t hurt her.”

You peek out from Oscar’s shoulder, meeting Lando’s wide-eyed gaze. “I’m fine,” you add, trying to inject some normalcy back into the situation. “It’s just … you know.”

Lando’s brows shoot up. “I really don’t know.”

You laugh softly despite yourself. “Well, I’m not hurt. Just … sore.”

Lando’s mouth opens and closes as if he’s trying to find the right words, but for once, he’s speechless. He glances between you and Oscar, and then shakes his head, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

“I mean, I’ve heard of being ‘swept off your feet,’ but this …” Lando trails off, his eyes flicking down to your legs, which you’re certain look completely useless at this point. “This is next level.”

Oscar rolls his eyes, though there’s a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You done?”

Lando lifts his hands in mock surrender. “Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just saying — next time, maybe leave her able to walk? Just a suggestion.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against Oscar’s shoulder again. “Please make him stop.”

Oscar chuckles, squeezing you gently. “Lando, I swear, if you don’t move, I’m going to drop her on you.”

Lando steps aside, holding his hands up. “Alright, alright. I’ll be good. But seriously,” he adds, glancing at you with a smirk. “You two should probably invest in some crutches.”

You shoot him a withering look, but there’s no malice behind it. “You’re not funny.”

“I disagree,” Lando grins. “I’m hilarious.”

Oscar shakes his head, moving past Lando and toward the stairs. As he climbs up, still carrying you effortlessly, you whisper, “I’m never living this down, am I?”

Oscar leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Probably not.”

By the time he settles you down in one of the plush seats on the jet, the soreness in your legs has turned into a dull throb. You sink into the cushions with a relieved sigh, stretching out as much as you can without wincing. Oscar sits beside you, his hand immediately resting on your thigh, a silent check-in.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks again, his brow still slightly furrowed.

“I promise,” you say, reaching for his hand. “I mean, yes, I probably won’t be running any marathons anytime soon, but it’s worth it.”

Oscar gives you a lopsided smile, but the concern doesn’t fully leave his eyes. “I didn’t think I’d actually-”

You cut him off, squeezing his hand. “Oscar, stop. You didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who asked for it.”

His cheeks flush slightly, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Still.”

You lean closer, brushing your lips against his. “It was perfect,” you murmur softly. “You’re perfect.”

He exhales, some of the tension finally leaving his body as he leans into your kiss. “If you say so.”

“I do,” you whisper against his lips, then lean back with a grin. “Now, how are you going to carry me once we land?”

Oscar laughs, a sound that’s light and warm. “I’ll figure it out.”

From across the aisle, Lando chimes in, “Just get a wheelchair. Might be worth the investment if this is going to be a common occurrence.”

You throw a pillow at him. “Shut up, Lando.”

But deep down, despite the teasing and the soreness, you wouldn’t trade this moment for anything.

[dior-luxury]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲'𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐎𝐮𝐭 𝐀𝐬 𝐀 𝐉𝐨𝐤𝐞

( ✧ ) ────── 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 . 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚 - 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫 .

- [𝐜𝐡.] TOP6 . rin itoshi . karasu tabito . otoya eita . yukimiya kenyu . nagi seishiro . shidou ryusei - [𝐩:𝐬] subtle jealousy.

#Rin Itoshi

Rin doesn't have a good experience when it comes to telling people how he feels. And it's even more shocking that you managed to wow him enough for him to like you. He, himself, didn't want to admit that he liked you because he didn't want to feel weak. And he believes that if he shows emotion towards you, you'll end up finding him weird. Which is the opposite of what you'd prefer.

He'd try to push himself to talk to you at least once when he realized that he liked you. Whether that'd be a snarky remark of his, or a back-handed compliment. You can imagine his surprise when he finds out that you don't find him weird. Since he's used to everyone in his life hating him in some way.

So when one day, he gets enough courage to talk to you and ask if you want to go on a date, looking to the side as he tries to calm himself down and talk to you. To his surprise, you think he's joking.

He looks at you with semi-shocked eyes. Do you think he's joking? It shouldn't have surprised him as much as it did. He overthinks his actions and looks at you confused.

Joking? He surely definitely isn't joking. He's serious. Why else would he come out of his way to ask you something as important as a date? Rin just doesn't get it.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐛𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠? 𝐈 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮."

He said confidently exaggerating 'like' heavily. He views your relationship with him seriously and wouldn't ever dream about being unserious with you.

#Karasu Tabito

It's not that hard for him to like someone. Just as long as you stand out to him. Which is very hard for anyone to do. At first, he didn't know how he felt about you, he liked talking to you but didn't understand why he thought about you 24/7. Until he realized that he liked you.

Suddenly whenever he talked to you he talked to you more and began to become more friendly around you, in a way. Karasu never really wanted to tell you that he liked you, fearing that he would mess up your guys' relationship. So instead he just kept his feelings aside.

But that's not what he wanted. Whenever he talked to you he felt like he had to tell you then and there that he liked you... but he couldn't. He just doesn't leave the thought of you being creeped out alone.

He compares himself to you and feels mediocre. Like he doesn't deserve to look at you. From the outside, he seems so confident.

When Karasu finally had the confidence it was when you and him were walking together. There was a long silence when he said he liked you. A long silence that made him regret his actions.

His eyes opened wide when you asked if he was making fun of you. Just like Rin, he values his relationships seriously, it would be a curse if he didn't. Luckily he quickly shot that thought of yours down.

"𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐚'𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰?"

#Otoya Eita

Otoya doesn't have a good history regarding feelings for people. Especially girls. One day he'll say that you guys are friends, the next day he'll act like you don't exist. He's used to brushing people off to the side whenever he feels like it.

He's known not to take relationships seriously. And would only keep talking to you if you're the one going for it. Or he'll recycle you, and move on to the next person. Claiming he only wants exciting people.

Otoya has done this his whole life, and he doesn't even recognize when he likes someone. Which led to him getting hurt, for a reason he doesn't understand. You're supposed to mean nothing to him. Why does he care about you?

He questions himself for a moment, but quickly ignores himself to go up and talk to you.

Otoya wouldn't try as much when it comes to someone he likes. But will sneak glances at you often, claiming that you're distracting him. And would blame you for making him fall for you.

But when he tells you that he likes you, he already knows what is going to happen. You're confused, taken aback, and hesitant. Not like he's not used to it. He finds people being skeptical around him whenever he says he likes them.

But in the back of his head, he knows that you mean something to him. And wants to have you to himself.

Yet, you are hesitant about how he truly feels about it. You don't want to be used, he knows that. And he says to himself that he'll never use you, and will try to make you see that.

"𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐤𝐞? 𝐈'𝐦 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬."

#Nagi Seishiro

He doesn't know why he likes you. Nagi just thinks of you as a normal person that he talks to sometimes. He stays the same around you as he does for other people, chill, and easygoing. But for you, he may sometimes look at you when you're talking to him.

Nagi often asks Reo to talk to you for him, for many different reasons why. However, he often claims that he's lazy and doesn't want the hassle to get up. And it's true, but he's just worried about how you'll think of him.

Nagi views you as out of his league and wants Reo to help him get with you. Often when he commands Reo to do stuff, like ask you what your favorite games are. He watches from afar watching you two talk.

He hopes that one day he'll end up talking to you, one-on-one, without feeling that small feeling of nervousness he gets. So why not get Reo to do all the talking?

But one day he was feeling different, and he wanted to talk to you himself. He built up the confidence and heard all of the conversations you and Reo had, which helped him get a feel of how you acted and your vibes.

Though he knew he wasn't as outgoing as him, he believed he could do this. He tucked his arm behind his head and said that he liked you, out loud confidently.

To his surprise, you thought he was joking. Nagi's eyes opened wide and his arm dropped a little. What did Reo say her? He said in his head. Wondering how he should go about this.

He took a deep breath and wondered how he should manage to convey how felt this time.

"𝐈 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐑𝐞𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭."

#Yukimiya Kenyu

Yukimiya understands his feelings very well, and others too. He often takes a calm approach when it comes to discussions about people's feelings. Just as long as they're not related to soccer. Yuki never really had a crush on someone besides when he was little.

But he did often look at people and realized how pretty they were, just like with you.

When Yukimiya first saw you he figured you were also a model just like him. He was so enamored by your appearance that he knew he had to talk to you.

He focused on every single detail about you, but never told you that because he didn't want to be creepy. But instead showed it through his long glances at your face.

Often complemented with a nice smile of his.

Yukimiya knows he likes you, and he accepts it. But it would be a long while till he gets the courage to say it, in fear of rejection. So he plans out a list of what to do before he breaks that ice and tells you his true feelings.

He takes a slow breath in and smiles as he tells you about his feelings. And how much he likes you... But it backfired for him. You weren't so used to people being this nice to you, getting you questioning.

Yukimiya realizes this and instead tries to show you through actions. Showing that he is serious and would never dream about faking it.

"𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐞. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲."

#Shidou Ryusei

Shidou has zero experience when it comes to having a crush. He's not experienced when it comes to liking someone besides how cool they are. He even surprised himself that he managed to find someone that he genuinely liked.

But he doesn't know what to do. Of course, he can go up to you and be all flirty with you, that's him without self-control, and speaking 'self-control', he has zero.

He "tries" to control himself somewhat, because he doesn't want to scare you too bad. So Shidou decides that he'll just 'try' and get along with you normally. He does have a lot of determination to make this work for you and him.

At first, he'll just come off as really "bold and cool" he says, and then slowly let you see how funny he is. Not only for him to get close to you, but to see if you guys would have chemistry.

And when he's finally fully comfortable with you, and sure that you guys could work together. He'll tell you he likes you.

Of course, it comes as a surprise for you, that he likes you. You can't help but feel it is just one of his jokes again. But little do you know he is serious about liking you.

His expression doesn't change when you question him on his feelings. He knew it was going to happen, Shidou instead just listens to you and hears you out.

But after your done questioning him, a large smirk comes on his face and he puts his face close to yours.

"𝐈𝐟 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲, 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮?"

[fairyofshampgyu]

☆ Me? Pegged?!

genre: smut, fluff, established relationship

Pairing: college bf ! beomgyu x dom ! fem reader

Warnings: pegging, soft sex, sub beomgyu, dom reader, fluff, male masturbation, mentions of porn, anal fingering, use of strap on, hand job, hand holding during sex, beomgyu cries but bc he’s emotional lolol, use of petnames ‘puppy’, ‘baby’, gendered term, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’ and afab, disgustingly fluffy

synopsis: your skeptical boyfriend gets pegged for the first time <3 To say the least he definitely enjoys it a lot more than he expected.

word count: 2.8k

“What? Like, in my ass?” Beomgyu, splutters eyebrows raised and asking in a hushed tone, looking cautiously left to right seemingly embarrassed. Although, you were a little confused what he was looking for, given you were both inside his dorm room…and the only people in there.

His demeanour, a total whiplash to a few moments prior when he had very proudly won the fighting game you both were playing together.

“Well, yeah in your ass.” You deadpan at him. “It’s called pegging. It’s just something I think could be fun for us to try and share together and I want to make you feel good! But it’s okay if you don’t want to-”

“No! I’ll-I can try. For you. I’ve just-I’ve never really thought of it before. It seems…intense...” Beomgyu looks down with a pout, fiddling with his thumbs, legs crossed on his bed.

“Gyu,” You cup his cheek and he leans into your touch almost instantly, looking back up at you, practically purring at the nickname and your gesture, “if you’re not comfortable with it we won’t. We don’t have to just because I want to. I just wanted to know your thoughts on it. ”

Beomgyu was always an open minded person when it came to sex, always down to try things at least once. Both of you were pretty compatible in that sense, easily bored when things were kept the same. You liked how experimental and open he was with you.

Beomgyu rubs at the back of his head and nods slowly, still looking skeptical. “I want to try it with you. I trust you. But, I just don’t think I’ll really find it that enjoyable though. I’ll think about it.”

Not that beomgyu would admit to you, but after the topic of pegging was brought up, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. It made a strange feeling pool in his stomach, unsure if it was a good or bad thing. Would it even feel good? What would it feel like? It’d probably feel weird right? And the thought of being so vulnerable was a little scary. He knew he had nothing to be embarrassed about with you but it still felt a little too daunting.

To say the least, beomgyu was curious, and many nights contemplating brought him to conduct his own research. Grabbing his laptop, the only light shining in his dark room at the ungodly hours of a thursday night, he went to the only place he knew would have some sort of answers—the internet and he began sheepishly typing into the search bar.

To his surprise, he came across many dudes enthusiastically raving about it on reddit and how it completely changed their view of life��he thinks some of them were being a little bit dramatic.

He also watched a few videos, for research purposes only. He stared at his screen, mouth agape and feeling a flush creep up his neck, cheeks growing increasingly heated at what he sees. Woah. Maybe. This might actually be….

He couldn’t help imagining you doing that to him instead, mind painting vivid pictures of you, imagining your hands on his hips and breath against his neck, being handled like that. It was strangely arousing.

Suddenly beomgyu was squirming in his bed, one hand hesitantly slipping down his grey sweatpants as he bit his bottom lip, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows furrowed as he began embarrassedly and frantically jerking off his now red and hard dick to the thought of you pegging him.

Faster than he thought, beomgyu was cumming heaps with a hand slapped to his mouth to stop himself from loudly moaning out your name (the college walls were very thin. He knew from experience.) and completely making a mess, soiling his sweats with a muffled whimper instead.

He lay there gasping and panting flushed, left to ponder his actions and new found revelation. It was kind of hot? Or maybe it was just a heat of the moment kind of thing. He couldn’t actually find that hot, right?

Fuck.

There wasn’t much beomgyu kept from you, usually he’d be the one to talk your ear off about the most mundane, silliest things of his day as you both cuddled closely together. However, he’d purposefully failed to mention his recent porn search history and the fact that he’s been cumming a heck of a lot faster than he’d like to admit at the thought of his girlfriend fucking him in the ass.

It’s only made him more curious about whether he’d actually like it. There was only one way to find out and that was to just see for himself. So he knew he had to bring it up with you somehow again without sounding like a crazed freak.

You were studying in the library when beomgyu approached you, textbooks spread out in front of you as you furiously typed notes on your laptop. Beomgyu leans in to peck your cheek before taking a seat beside you and you looked up, lifting your headphones from your ears.

“Oh you’re studying as well?”

Beomgyu gives you an incredulous look as if it was absolutely outrageous to suggest he’d be doing that. “No.” He clears his throat, trying to sound as nonchalant and cool as possible, “so, uh, remember that thing we talked about?”

You furrow your brows unsure of what he was talking about, but given how incredibly embarrassed he looked, you had an inkling of what it might be and you try not to laugh, heavily amused, accidentally saying it bit too loud, “Oh you mean pegging?”

He looks around frantically, eyes wide with panic as he tries to gauge if anyone else had heard, then he hits your arm and shoves you. “You don’t have to be so loud, my god.”

You can see the tips of his cute ears going pink as he shakes his head and hides his face with his hands, “Sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to,”chuckling softly, putting your hands up in defence so he wouldn’t shove you again.

Beomgyu just narrows his eyes at you and scoffs, “Yeah, so anyway. I was just thinking, you know, maybe we should actually... give it a try? I mean, if you're still interested," he said, his words tumbling out in a rush.

Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “So, you’ve been thinking about it?” you teased, leaning in closer. “What changed your mind?”

"Well, I've been doing some, uh, research," he admitted, scratching the back of his head. "And, maybe it doesn't sound so bad after all."

“Oh, so you’re actually interested now?” you grinned, clearly enjoying his embarrassment.

He huffed. “I mean, I’m not saying I’m dying to try it or anything. But, you know, I’m open to the idea. I guess.”

“Sure, sure,” you say giggling into your textbook. “You guess…”

Beomgyu reaches across the table and flicks your forehead playfully, rolling his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Oww!” You rub your forehead soothingly, “We’ll try it soon then, yeah?”

He pretended to think about it, even though his excitement was barely contained. You could practically see his tail wagging and brown puppy eyes lighting up. “Yeah, we could do that.”

Today is the day beomgyu will finally get why a bunch of dudes from reddit are so into being pegged by their girlfriends. Unfortunately for beomgyu though, he was currently stuck in class, wanting more than ever to just be in your dorm, but he had to wait.

The professor's voice drones on, the words blending into a meaningless blur as Beomgyu stole glances at the clock every few seconds. Each tick seemed to echo in his head like a countdown to freedom, and he couldn't help but let out an impatient sigh, mind racing with thoughts of what awaited him once this torturous lecture finally ended.

Meanwhile, you were finding immense amusement in Beomgyu's predicament and you couldn’t help but send him teasing texts during his class to make him even more pathetically desperate.

Beomgyu's eyes widened as he read the message, his cheeks flushing red. He bit his lip, trying to stifle a groan of frustration. He typed back quickly, fingers fumbling with the keys.

Beom🧸🎸: This is pure evil! You’re so mean :( 😠👎

You can’t help giggling, typing back a sarcastic response.

aww what a poor puppy. You’ll just have to wait.

Beom🧸🎸: why can’t I just skip ?!!!!!

You tell him he’s not allowed to skip and that he has to sit through the entirety of it just to torture him some more. Beomgyu pouts, his bottom lip sticking out in a comically exaggerated manner at the text, earning a weird look from Soobin who sat next to him.

Finally, the professor dismisses the class, and Beomgyu practically leaped out his seat, gathering his notebook and laptop and shoving it in his bag in record time. He dashed out of the lecture hall, barely acknowledging soobin’s farewell. Beomgyu’s heart racing as he practically sprinted across campus to your dorm.

When he reached your door, he knocked eagerly, breathing heavily and you swung open the door.

Without a word, Beomgyu pulled you into a passionate kiss, his hands tangling in your hair as he pressed you against the doorframe. He couldn't wait any longer; the anticipation had built up to an almost unbearable level, and now that he was finally here with you, all he wanted was to feel close to you.

You chuckled softly against his lips, teasingly pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Someone's eager," you run a hand through his tousled hair.

Beomgyu grins, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and excitement as he stares down at you with half lidded eyes. "Can you blame me? You’ve been torturing me!" He pouts, staring down at your lips before kissing you again.

You’ve been meticulously prepping beomgyu for god knows how long now, but you wanted to make absolute sure that he was stretched out well so you wouldn’t hurt him one bit.

His soft, breathy moans fill the room as your lubed fingers slide in and out of his cute, pink hole repeatedly. He seemed to like it so far, each gentle movement makes him cling tighter to the pink silk pillow pressed against his chest, hugging it with his eyes blissfully closed, legs spread wide as he lay on your bed.

“Do you think you’re ready, baby?”

He opens his eyes, meeting your gaze with a needy look, and cutely nods, taking a few deep breaths. “Yeah- please.. I want you noww..”

You give him a weary glance. “I don’t want to hurt you though.”

Beomgyu shakes his head softly, still hugging the pink silk pillow tightly, even if he’s a little nervous, he desperately wants to feel you. He swallows, looking directly into your eyes and whines. “I’ll be fine. pleasee”

Sighing, you step into the harness of the strap-on (you’d made sure to order the cutest and prettiest one you saw online), coating the silicone in generous amounts of lube before returning back to beomgyu on the bed.

You gently place his dainty ankles over your shoulders, kissing on his inner thighs and pretty white sock clad legs and ankles as you do so.

You can’t stop staring in awe. Heart swelling up at the sight of beomgyu, fluffy messy hair splayed around his face, long thick eyelashes kissing his rose dusted cheeks, slightly chewing at his plump bottom limp as he braces himself. He’s so precious. How fucking gorgeous this boy is.

You kiss his ankles a few more times, one hand going to his cute tummy that heaved and you slowly push the silicone cock into his now glistening from all the lube, swollen, puffy pink hole, ever so slowly easing in, inch by inch and bottoming out.

Beomgyu cries out, hiding his face instantly in his elbow and he arches his back, and mewls.

“You okay, puppy?”, you coo and gently move his arm out the way so you can look at his pretty face and parted lips, stilling your movements and softly brushing the bangs out his eyes.

Beomgyu shakily nods, trembling. “Mmh. m’ okay. You can keep going.”

Loud high pitched strangled moans escape his lips as you pick up the pace. It’s a new feeling and it takes him some time to get used to. Beomgyu was always loud and would make the prettiest moans ever anyway, but there was something so different at how he moaned right now, completely guttural and different to how they usually were. Even he was surprised, clamping a hand over his mouth in embarrassment but he just couldn’t stop the noises at all even if he tried, loud whines and whimpers continuing unabated. You loved them so much.

You watch his poor, neglected cock slap his tummy with every thrust, red and hard and dribbling beads at the head constantly. You take his dick in your hand, stroking it at the same movement and fucking him harder.

He gasps shuddering and writhing, his fingers curling into the sheets. "Oh... that feels...," he manages to say, interrupted by whines and moans, mouth in a cute ‘o’ shaped, completely dumb and fucked out by now he can barely think, and he moans your name over and over. A cascade of mewls spilling from his lips, a sweet symphony that fills the room.

You lean down to press his swollen lips with yours, moving your mouth against him so messily and needy, making out with him so intensely as you carried on fucking his hole. You’re sure you’re hitting his prostate by now.

Beomgyu disconnects from your lips to pant, a string of saliva connecting from his and your mouth and reaches his hand out to yours “Hold…” He whimpers out, eyebrows furrowed and you gladly grab his hand, intertwining your hand with his and holding hands as you peg him, anchoring him. Your other free hand still continuing your ministrations on his cock, kissing him again. It seems you’ve pegged him completely into subspace.

"gonna cum soon... I can'ttt... it's too much!” Beomgyu chokes out, eyes rolling to the back of his head as he completely shakes.

You suddenly heard choked sobs and sniffling coming from beomgyu. Alarmed, you paused for a moment, worried that maybe you had hurt him. His face was buried in the pillow, and his shoulders were trembling with each shaky breath.

“Beomgyu, are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice laced with concern. You gently eased back, not wanting to cause him any discomfort.

He turned his head to look at you, and your heart ached at the sight before you. His glossy, brown doe eyes were filled with tears, eyelashes clumped together and his bottom lip was jutting out in a pout, making him look devastatingly beautiful, tears streaming down his red cheeks and his hair tousled and damp with sweat. He was such a pretty crier.

“I-I’m okay,” voice trembling with the intensity of his feelings. “It’s just... it feels so good. I love you so much.” His tears flowed freely now, each sob wracking his body. You were surprised at how emotional beomgyu had gotten.

You lean down to kiss away his tears, cupping his hot cheeks, “You’re doing so good for me, gyu. I love you too.”

Beomgyu grasps your hand even tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he clings to you so close. His head falls back with every thrust, and he throws his head back as you continue to hit his prostate repeatedly again and again, making him go cross eyed and his jaw slack.

He spurts a copious amount of cum from his cock, making such a mess on the sheets, your hand, and his tummy, cumming so hard his vision goes blurry, and he feels dizzy, his legs shaking uncontrollably. His eyes flutter open and shut, gasping and panting heavily. You pull out and collapse beside him, both of you utterly exhausted.

The guys on reddit were so right.

Beomgyu doesn’t let go of you at all afterwards, burying his face in your chest and wrapping his legs and arms around you, clinging to you like a koala contently, breath warm against your skin as you kissed the top of his head.

“I can’t feel my legs.” Beomgyu whines, “Please never mention the crying ever again okay?” He muffles out. “I have a reputation to uphold, you know. Can’t have everyone thinking I’m a crybaby.”

You chuckle, stroking and playing with his soft hair which he loves so much, humming softly at the feeling of your hands on his scalp. “I thought it was very cute.”

He doesn’t say anything and a moment of silence ensues.

“Thank you, baby.” he says gently and quietly, “I’d be eating you out so good right now if I wasn’t so exhausted.” a tired but cheeky grin spreading across his face.

Within seconds, beomgyu was out like a light, his soft snores filling the quiet room, looking so cute absolutely knocked out in your arms.

Please actually reblog !!!!!! and leave comments !!!! guys 😭 if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated and so nice tysm !<3🙏💕🌷🌷! It’s incredibly discouraging and disappointing when fics have such little reblogs ☹️👎🤨. At least send an anon in the inbox if you don’t want to rb, don’t just like. Feedback is always appreciated it makes writers want to actually write more :)

A/n: guys im sorry if this was the shittest thing I’ve ever written. I was really trying !! But I’m Just very out of practice at writing atm 😭 im very sorry if the smut is the most messiest thing you’ve ever read, I have not proofread it at all I have no idea what I was writing. So I’m very sorry

[zweigsangel]

ex fratboy! chris. smut-angst. 1.8k words.

it’s one of those late nights, and you’re standing there in the middle of a way-too-crowded, kinda messy party that, honestly, you only came to ‘cause your friends dragged you here. the air's thick with too many people, bad beer, and random songs blaring loud enough to drown out any thoughts you might’ve had. and that’s when you see him: chris. the ex you swore you were over. but like, really, are you?

it’s weird though, ‘cause he’s just chilling across the room, laughing too loud, his arm around some guy you don’t recognize, talking animatedly about god knows what. he’s got that same stupid, loose stance, shoulders relaxed, wearing that hoodie he always wore, the one you’d stolen a million times. you think— hope, he hasn’t noticed you, so you kinda try to blend in, sticking close to the wall, pretending to check your phone.

you weren’t always like this, all distant and tense. you’d meet up after his frat meetings, and he’d tell you all these wild stories about his brothers, like the time they tried building a slip n’ slide down the staircase and ended up getting written up by their advisor. you’d just sit there laughing so hard you’d cry, and he’d look at you like nothing in the world could ever compare. and for a while, it felt like he was it. but it ended, kinda messy, mostly because chris was…well, chris. he’d blow off plans, flirt with people at parties, and honestly, it just felt like he didn’t know what he wanted. or maybe he did, and it just wasn’t you. he’d show up late and drunk, ramble on about his deep thoughts on the universe, and then disappear for days, leaving you feeling like some kind of afterthought. eventually, you got tired of being the whenever person, so you cut it off. even if it hurt.

it’s been a few months now, and you’re doing your thing—focusing on classes, seeing friends, trying to move on.

but nah. of course he sees you.

“yo, wait up,” he calls, weaving his way through people, looking right at you. you try to act casual, like this isn’t a big deal, like you don’t feel your stomach flip. he stops in front of you, that grin still hanging on his face. “hey,” he says, shoving his hands in his pockets. “long time no see, huh?”

“yeah, well, been busy,” you reply, shrugging. it sounds casual enough, but he’s still looking at you like he’s trying to read something on your face.

“you look good,” he says after a pause, and it’s so out of character for him to just say something like that, straight-up, that it throws you off for a second “uh...thanks?” you laugh, awkwardly. you know he’s probably just trying to be friendly, but you can’t help wondering if there’s more to it. “so...you still doing the same old chris thing?”

he laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, looking away for a second. “i guess so,” he mutters, more to himself than to you. and then he kinda sighs, like he’s tired of the frat boy act, or maybe just tired of himself. “been, uh…been thinkin’ about you,” he admits, his voice low. “more than i probably should.”

you try to brush it off, folding your arms to keep your cool. “oh, yeah? that’s, uh, new.”

“i know, i know, i messed up,” he says, sighing. “just…never got you outta my head, y’know?” you can feel yourself softening despite everything. “yeah, well, maybe you should’ve tried harder.”

he looks at you, his eyes searching yours, and there’s this vulnerability there, like he’s finally ready to admit something he’s been holding back. “you think i didn’t? trust me, i tried. i just…i dunno. couldn’t do it.”

you don’t want to care, don’t want to feel that old pull, but it’s there, creeping up on you. he steps closer, barely an inch between you now, his gaze never leaving yours. “you want me to back off?” he murmurs, his voice barely audible over the music. “just tell me, and i will.”

you could tell him to go. could shut this down, walk away, stay done with him. but instead, you shake your head, just a tiny movement, and he lets out a soft breath, like he’s been holding it in. before you can think, his hand’s on your waist, his fingers brushing lightly over your hip, pulling you closer.

the kiss starts slow, tentative, his lips brushing over yours like he’s testing if this is real. then his hand moves up, slipping around your back, and it’s like something inside you snaps. you grab the front of his hoodie, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low sound, his grip on you tightening as he presses his body against yours, his mouth moving over yours with more intensity.

“missed you,” he whispers against your lips, his voice rough, desperate. you barely register the words, just feel the heat rising between you two, feel his hands sliding lower, pulling you against him, his fingers firm on your waist, his mouth moving along your jaw, down to your neck, sending shivers through you. you tug him toward the hallway, away from the crowded room, and he follows, his hand gripping yours, letting you lead him through the maze of people until you push open the bathroom door, dragging him inside.

the space is cramped and a little dingy, but you don’t care. the second the door clicks shut, his hands are on you, pushing you gently but firmly against the door. his mouth crashes into yours, hot and urgent, and your hands find their way under his hoodie, slipping over his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin. you tug the hoodie off him, and he lifts his arms to help you, tossing it aside without a second thought, his hands already back on you, roaming down your sides, exploring every inch.

he kisses you harder, more intense, his lips pressing down your neck, his hands slipping under your top, that quickly joins the hoodie on the floor.

“god, i’ve wanted this for so long,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. “yeah? thought you forgot about me,” you tease, but there’s no real bite to your words. it’s playful, but you both know the truth behind it.

“never forgot. couldn’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you,” he admits, his hands sliding up to your bra, deft fingers working to unclasp it. you feel a thrill of excitement mixed with nerves as it falls away, and his hands are on your bare skin, exploring, his touch igniting every nerve in your body.

“you’re, uh…sure about this?” he murmurs, his voice low, his hand coming up to rest on your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin. you don’t even hesitate. “yeah,” you whisper, barely able to keep your voice steady.

he lets out a soft, almost relieved sound, and his mouth finds yours again, hungrier this time, like he’s been holding back and can’t anymore. his hands slide down, finding the waistband of your skirt, tugging it down, his touch steady and deliberate, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. you step out of it, your pulse racing as his hands explore you, pulling you closer, pressing you against him.

you tug at his belt, fingers fumbling, but he’s already helping, working the buckle loose, kicking off his jeans. he’s back against you in a second, his hands on your hips, his lips trailing down your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers in their wake.

he lifts you, setting you on the counter, your legs wrapping around his waist. “you okay?” he asks, checking in, “yeah, jus’ do it,” you whisper, barely able to hold back the urge to pull him closer, “please.”

he’s kissing you again, his mouth moving against yours as you feel him press against you, hot and hard, and you let out a soft gasp. “need you,” he murmurs, almost pleading, and that raw honesty sends a thrill through you. you nod, breathless, and he positions himself, sliding inside you slowly, giving you a moment to adjust. it feels incredible, every inch of him fitting perfectly, like he was made for you.

“god, you’re so tight,” he groans, burying his face in your neck, and the sound of his voice makes you moan softly. as he starts moving, the rhythm is slow at first, deliberate, and you feel every thrust, every movement building inside you. he’s murmuring your name, breathless, and the heat between you is consuming. you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling him in deeper, urging him to go faster.

“yeah? you like that?” he asks, his breath hot against your skin as he quickens the pace. it feels electric, every thrust sending shockwaves through you, and you nod, lost in the sensation.

“so good, chris,” you moan, the words tumbling out as you feel that familiar coil tightening deep inside you. he leans back, looking at you with those dark, intense eyes, and it drives you wild. “gonna make you feel good, okay?” he says, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes your heart race.

with each thrust, the world outside fades away. it’s just the two of you, the heat of the moment enveloping you, and you feel that sweet pressure building, your body responding to every touch, every whisper, until you’re trembling around him, ready to fall apart.

“come on, babe,” he encourages, his voice low and rough, and you can hear the strain in it as he moves faster, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. “can’t hold on much longer,” you breathe, feeling that familiar rush as he hits just the right spot, sending you spiraling.

“let go for me,” he says, his voice thick with desire, and the way he looks at you, his eyes dark and hungry, pushes you over the edge. with a loud gasp, you’re coming undone, waves of pleasure crashing over you, and he follows right after, burying himself deep as he lets go. the sound of his voice, mixed with yours, fills the tiny bathroom, and in that moment, it’s just the two of you, lost in each other, together again in a way you thought you’d never be.

as you both come down from the high, he pulls you close, resting his forehead against yours, breathing heavily, trying to catch his breath. he doesn’t say anything, just lets the silence settle between you, a quiet, unspoken apology wrapped up in the way he looks at you, his eyes softer than you remember, like maybe he’s finally realized what he’s been missing all along.

and for now, it’s enough to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

[docholligay]

Do you think authors sometimes don't realize how their, uh, interests creep into their writing? I'm talking about stuff like Robert Jordan's obvious femdom kink, or Anne Rice's preoccupation with inc*st and p*dophilia. Did their editors ever gently ask them if they've ever actually read what they've written?

Firstly, a reminder: This is not tiktok and we just say the words incest and pedophilia here.

Secondly, I don't know if I would call them 'interests' so much as fixations or even concerns. There are monstrous things that people think about, and I think writing is a place to engage with those monstrous things. It doesn't bother me that people engage with those things. I exist somewhere within the whump scale, and I would hope no one would think less of me just because sooner or later I like to rough a good character up a bit, you know? It's fun to torture characters, as a treat!

But, anyway, assuming this question isn't, "Do writers know they're gross when I think they are gross" which I'm going to take the kind road and assume it isn't, but is instead, "Do you think authors are aware of the things they constantly come back to?"

Sometimes. It can be jarring to read your own writing and realize that there are things you CLEARLY are preoccupied with. (mm, I like that word more than concerns). There are things you think about over and over, your run your mind over them and they keep working their way back in. I think this is true of most authors, when you read enough of them. Where you almost want to ask, "So...what's up with that?" or sometimes I read enough of someone's work that I have a PRETTY good idea what's up with that.

I've never read Robert Jordan and I don't intend to start (I think it would bore me this is not a moral stance) and I've really never read Rice's erotica. In erotica especially I think you have all the right in the world to get fucking weird about it! But so, when I was young I read the whole Vampire Chronicles series. I don't remember it perfectly, but there's plenty in it to reveal VERY plainly that Anne Rice has issues with God but deeply believes in God, and Anne Rice has a preoccupation with the idea of what should stay dead, and what it means to become. So, when i found out her daughter died at the age of six, before Rice wrote all of this, and she grew up very very Catholic' I said, 'yeah, that fucking checks out'.

Was Rice herself aware of how those things formed her writing? I think at a certain point probably yes. The character of Claudia is in every way too on the nose for her not to have SOME idea unless she was REAL REAL dense about her own inner workings. But, sometimes I know where something I write about comes from, that doesn't mean I'm interested in sharing it with the class. I would never ever fucking say, 'The reasons I seem to write so much of x as y is that z happened to me years ago' ahaha FUCK THAT NOISE. NYET. RIDE ON, COWBOY.

But I've known some people in fandom works who clearly have something going on and don't seem to realize it. Or they're very good at hiding it. Based on the people I'm talking about I would say it's more a lack of self-knowledge, and I don't even mean that unkindly. I have, in many ways, taken myself down to the studs and rebuilt it all, so I unfortunately am very aware of why I do and write the things I do most of the time. It's extremely annoying not to be able to blame something. I imagine it must be very freeing. But it ain't me, babe.

Anyway, a lot of words to say: Maybe! But that might not stop them from writing it, it might be a useful thing for them to engage with, and you can always just not read it.

Also, we don't censor words here.

[the-offside-rule]

Patricio O'Ward (Arrow McLaren) - Taste Of Home

Requested: yes

Prompt: Y/n is the youngest Leclerc and is missing home so Pato brings home to her

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff

Y/n sighed as she leaned back on the couch in the house she now shared with her boyfriend, Pato. It had been an exciting move, leaving behind her life in Monaco to support Pato in his IndyCar career, but tonight, the homesickness gnawed at her more than usual. The city was bustling, yet felt so different from the cozy streets of Monte Carlo, and she missed the warmth of home, the chatter of her brothers, and the comfort of her mother’s cooking. Pato turned his attention away from the TV as he heard his girlfriend moving beside him, noticing the way she was staring blankly at her laptop, her mind far away.

“You okay, mi amor?” Pato asked, his hand strokingher knee. His dark eyes were full of concern. “Yeah, I’m fine." Y/n smiled softly, though her tone betrayed her. "Just missing home tonight, I guess." Pato shifted, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "What do you miss most? Besides Charles making fun of you?" Y/n chuckled at that, leaning her head on Pato's shoulder. “Everything, really. Charles, Lorenzo, Arthur. My mom's carbonara, and just being surrounded by family. It was weird being the youngest sometimes, but they always made me feel you know, like I belonged.” Pato's soft smile turned to a flat line, thinking of what he could do.

“Tell me a story,” Pato suggested, wanting to cheer her up. “About you and your brothers.” She thought for a moment, her face softening as memories surfaced. “Okay, I’ve got one. So, when I was about seven, Charles and Arthur thought it’d be funny to teach me how to ride a bike. But they didn’t tell me how to brake properly." Pato laughed. "That sounds like a disaster waiting to happen."

“Oh, it was." Y/n nodded with a smile. "I rode straight into our neighbor’s garden and crashed into her rose bushes. I was crying, covered in thorns, and instead of comforting me, Charles was laughing so hard he was practically rolling on the floor. Arthur was trying to hide so he wouldn’t get in trouble. But Lorenzo, being the responsible big brother, came and pulled me out of the bushes, all while giving Charles and Arthur a lecture.” Pato shook his head with a grin. “So Charles was always a troublemaker?”

“Always.” Y/n confirmed with a fond laugh. “But he had his moments where he was sweet too. He’s protective, you know? When I went to my first school dance, he grilled the poor boy who asked me to be his date. Charles practically had the poor guy sweating.” Pato laughed louder this time. "Yeah, that sounds like him. Protective older brother mode.” Y/n had loosened up a bit, reminiscing on the past she had in Monaco. “Yep. And Arthur’s no better. Honestly, they all think I need constant watching.” Y/n yawned softly, her tiredness creeping in after a long day at university. “I miss them, though.”

“I know you do.” Pato said, kissing her temple softly. "You should get some rest. It's been a long day, amor." Y/n looked at the time on her laptop. "Yeah, I think I will.” Y/n stood up, stretching. “I’ll head to bed. I’ve got an early class tomorrow.” Pato smiled as she leaned down and placed a delicate kiss onto his lips. “Goodnight, mi amor. I love you.”

“Love you too, Pato.” Y/n smiled before turning and heading for the stairs. As soon as the door closed, Pato pulled out his phone, an idea sparking in his mind. He scrolled through his contacts until he found Charles’ number and sent a message.

Pato Hey man, quick question. Y/n’s feeling really homesick tonight and I was thinking… can you send me your family’s carbonara recipe? I want to surprise her tomorrow.

Pato stared at his phone, unsure if Charles would respond quickly. But within moments, his screen lit up with a reply.

Charles Hey, mate. Of course, I’ll send it over. You trying to impress my sister with your cooking? 😂

Pato Haha, yeah, something like that. She told me she misses your mom’s carbonara, so I thought it might help.

Charles Give me a second, I’ll write it down for you.

A minute later, Charles sent over a series of detailed instructions, with a few extra tips for making sure the dish turned out just right. Pato read through the messages carefully, determined to get it perfect.

Charles And don’t overcook the pasta! I swear, if you serve it mushy, Y/n will never let you live it down.

Pato Haha, I’ll do my best. Thanks, man.

With the recipe in hand, Pato felt a surge of excitement. He could picture Y/n’s face lighting up when she came home to find a taste of Monaco waiting for her.

The next day, after Y/n left for her morning classes, Pato got to work. He drove to the store, carefully selecting only the best ingredients for the pasta dish. He came home, cleaned up a bit and set to work cooking. No one said it would be easy and it certainly wasn't for such a simple dish. He followed Charles’ recipe to the letter, carefully whisking the eggs and cheese together, cooking the pancetta until it was crisp, and boiling the pasta to al dente perfection. His kitchen was soon filled with the comforting smell of home-cooked food, and he couldn’t help but feel proud of himself for pulling it off. Pato had managed to spill sowm egg here and there, a bit of sliced guanciale on the floor (nothing Norbi couldn't help with), but he got there. He had done it. He had to admit, he ate a bowl or two whilst waiting for Y/n to get back.

Just as he was plating the carbonara, he heard the front door open. Y/n walked in, looking exhausted but surprised when she caught the scent wafting through the apartment. “Oh that smells delicious! Pato, what are you cooking?” She asked, setting her bag down. Pato turned to her with a grin, holding up two plates of the golden, creamy pasta. “Surprise! I made your family’s carbonara.” Her eyes widened, and her heart melted instantly. “You what?”

“I called Charles and got the recipe,” Pato explained, walking over to hand her a plate. “I know you’ve been homesick, and I wanted to bring a little bit of home here for you.” Y/n stared at him, her eyes soft with emotion. “Pato this is amazing. You didn’t have to do all this.” She smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. “I wanted to,” Pato said, his voice gentle. “You mean the world to me, Y/n. I want you to feel at home, even here.” She smiled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and took a bite. “This is perfect,” she said, her voice thick with emotion. “It tastes just like home.” Pato sat down beside her, watching as she ate with a soft smile. “I’m glad you like it.” Y/n leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I love it. And I love you.”

“I love you too,” Pato whispered, feeling a wave of warmth and contentment wash over him. He’d brought a piece of Monaco to Miami, and in that moment, it felt like home; because Y/n was with him.