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sttoru · 8 months ago

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. your older boyfriend, satoru, shows you just how much he adores you in his private office <3

tags. older bf!gojo satoru x virgin!female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). smut, pwp. fīngering. multiple ōrgàsms; overstimulation. mention of corruption kink. dry hūmping. nicknames ‘princess, baby, beautiful’. pls ignore any grammar errors xx

“heh, don’t look at me. look at yourself, princess,” satoru chuckles, easily noticing how your head is tilted in attempt to watch him as he gets you off. you’re sitting on his thighs with your legs spread, shamelessly allowing him to finger you in his office.

your shaky eyes dart down to your dripping cunt—clearly seeing how it’s got a mind of its own. it’s squeezing satoru’s long fingers as he moves them in the speed of light. your limbs are shaking by the amount of pleasure you’re receiving.

“the-the door,” you hiccup. you hadn’t locked the door behind you when you walked into satoru’s office. you definitely wouldn’t want any of his colleagues to walk in on you. though, that didn’t seem to worry your boyfriend. all he’s focusing on at the moment is your perfect pussy taking in his middle and ring finger.

satoru’s glossy lips are parted and covered in spit. he has to lick up the drool from the corner of his mouth so it wouldn’t dirty your opened blouse. he’s quite literally salivating at the sight and feeling of your warm cunt. . .

“the others ‘re busy, they won’t come in as long as you keep your pretty voice down,” satoru promises you in a smooth tone, blue eyes wide with fascination as he stares down at your pussy.

he’s always imagined what it’d be like to be inside of you. what it would feel like to hold you in his arms and make love to you without holding himself back— to show you a world you have yet to discover.

satoru wants to be the first one to do that, though he’ll wait until you’re ready. for now, he’s completely satisfied with just a taste of heaven.

“fuck, baby, she’s beautiful,” satoru praises your delicate pussy. your wet folds continue to make way for more of his fingers, spreading as he tries to enter a third digit into your poor, clingy hole. you whine as you feel satoru prepare you by rubbing your clit repeatedly with his thumb—trying to make you as wet for him as you possibly could be.

you shake your head, “can’t take more, ‘toru.” it genuinely feels like you’re being stretched out. three fingers are going to take you out. “nuh-uh,” satoru mocks you before telling you to look at him. the moment you do, his lips envelop yours in a lustful yet comforting kiss. you moan into his mouth and he does the same back, eyebrows furrowing because of how good it feels to suck on your tongue.

his fingers don’t stop. the third slides in and you jolt back against satoru’s chest. “shh, shh, i got you,” the older man attempts to calm you down. he stops fingering you for a second so you could adjust to the stretch. you’re tight—he can feel his erect cock twitching in his pants, begging to replace his fingers. he can’t, not yet.

satoru cusses under his breath once he feels your ass rub against the bulge in his uniform’s pants. you’re killing him and you don’t even realise it because you’re too focused on his fingers fucking your cunt. shlick shlick shlick — you’re dripping wet.

“i’m gonna cum,” you whisper through a soft gasp. it would be your third orgasm. you’re sensitive and your pussy feels like it’s on fire. your lower abdomen is tingling and aching. you’re going to inevitably squirt all over his chair, again.

satoru bites his lip as he hears you announce how close you are. his long fingers are already soaked with your juices, coating them with a sticky layer that he cannot wait to taste. “do it, baby. wanna see you cum,” your boyfriend coos.

satoru loves the way your hips circle back to him, rubbing against his groin. you’re driving him insane without even knowing it. he curls his fingers inside you, thumb still circling your clit for extra stimulation. you’re being driven to the edge of insanity.

he bucks his hips a little each time you involuntarily move in his lap. “toruuu, fnnh, so close,” you’re not only moaning because of the fingers inside of you, but also because of the hard bulge rubbing against and between your ass cheeks.

satoru knows your voice can easily carry over to the next room. you’re usually loud when you finish on his fingers. he takes his free hand and pushes your head back against his shoulder, his index and middle finger sliding into your mouth to silence you.

your whimpers are muffled as you automatically start sucking on his digits. satoru kisses your ear and jawline, whispering small words of praise against your skin because of your obedience. “keep it down for me, beautiful. y’re already doing so well.”

your eyes roll back as your saliva dribbles down his left hand. the wet trail runs down his veiny arm that’s exposed to your view. you love it when satoru pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his elbows—it reminds you of why everyone fawns over him. it’s hot.

you’re trying to hold out, not wanting to cum. you wish to stay like this, with satoru’s fingers deep in your cunt and mouth, his bulge grinding against the fat of your ass.

the white-haired man instantly notices this and chuckles to himself; you’re fighting a losing battle. he increases the pace, his wrist working over time so his fingers could reach those sweet spots in your velvety walls. he decides to rile you up some more;

“shiit, just imagine that ‘ts my cock stretching your pretty cunt out,” satoru grins against your ear. he knows you’re weak for dirty talk. you have never felt what it’s like to be stuffed full of a dick, and thus the imagination adds to the raunchiness of it all.

you shiver and let out a small moan escape your mouth before you continue to suck on satoru’s fingers. all this time you’ve settled for make out sessions, grinding and oral pleasure. you’re needy for more than that.

satoru knows what buttons to push. he knows how to make you melt and give in to him and his words. he bites your earlobe after letting his tongue lick the skin, “all filled up to the brim. you’d like that, huh?”

you barely managed to stifle a loud whine at that. your eyes widen and your pussy spasms around his fingers. you know it’s not long before you’re going to cream all over satoru’s hand.

sweat trickles down your forehead.

“yes, yes, yes!” you moan repeatedly, voice muffled by the fingers in your mouth. you can hear your boyfriend grunt into your ear after seeing how enthusiastically you’re responding. he’s totally getting off to you’re desperation.

satoru wants to cum so bad. he wants to shoot ropes of his cum in the pussy he’s prepping to one day take his dick.

you see black spots in your vision because of how hard the climax hits you. your breath hitches and you grip onto the armrests of the chair for support. a spray of clear and watery juices covers satoru’s entire hand and bits of his arm—evidence of just how much you enjoyed your little session with him.

the older man pats your tummy and rubs it, comforting you as the aftershocks of your climax hit. he pulls his fingers out of your messy cunt and brings them up to his glossy lips, thoroughly licking every drop off. his dick pulses in his pants at the delicious taste.

you’re panting as you try to get your thighs to stop shaking. you’re out of energy, drained. all that you hear replaying in your mind is satoru’s dirty talk. you don’t know if you can handle his dick if you’re already overwhelmed by the way he skilfully uses his fingers.

as if sensing your thoughts, your boyfriend smirks and hugs your body tightly to his chest.

“can’t give it t’ ya now,” satoru whispers and pouts, teasing you as if to turn you on again. he takes his wet fingers out of your mouth and presses his lips against yours as a promise, “but one day i will, yeah? one day i’ll fuck ya so good you’ll only know my name.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n

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whokilledsamara · 2 months ago

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Hello! I don’t usually make requests but i have one could u pretty please if u have time? 🥺

Anyways the request would be like homocipher boys (especially my bbg Mr Crawling) pussy drunk. Pls.

PUSSY DRUNK

a very short fic for a few of the Homicipher boys. {Mr. Crawling, Mr. Scarletella, Mr. Silvair, Mr. Gap, Mr. Hood}. Homicipher x afab!reader.

warnings! : each are different so a bit of violence, neediness, switch!reader, smut, porn, PORN NO PLOT!!! almost all of them are cunnilingus

{an: if you meant a fic with all of them in a gangbang sense, you can send in another request}

MR. CRAWLING

"Not now Mr. Crawling, im busy." you say softly, gently petting his head as he tugs at your skirt. "Please..", he practically begs, his lips turned into a pout.

he was always so desperate to please you, stopping at nothing as long as it made you happy. his eager face made it so hard to resist, and with a sigh, you gently part your legs before continuing to use your hands with what you were doing.

almost as soon as you do so, his face is shoved as far as it can go, a whine leaving his lips as he has to pull away to remove your underwear. a giggle escapes you while you watch.

...

"mngh.. fuck, please.." the words slipped so effortlessly from your lips, Mr. Crawling's head so deep between those legs of yours that you couldnt think straight.

your hand was fisted in his hair, tugging often. whines left him almost constantly, his hands holding up your thighs on his shoulders and off the chair. "Me want, More" he states softly, his voice muffled as he stares up at you, the lower half of his face still stuffed between your thighs.

as you nod softly, he hums and shoves two of his long and slender fingers inside of you, effortlessly curling them upwards towards your g-spot. "a-ah..!" your voice hits a high peak at the sudden intrusion, legs trembling as yet another orgasm rips through you, despite how many you had previously.

as overstimulated as you were, the man between your legs gives a few more licks to your clit, slowly pulling away. as he sits up, Mr. Crawling stares up at you with a cheeky grin, his chin covered in your juices. "Good." ..... "Big, Good."

MR. SCARLETELLA

as usual, he was feeling needy.

every since you pretty much marked him as your "slave", he has been near you at all times, getting upset whenever you interact with others instead of him.

this time in particular though, you watched tears fall from his eyes as he stared up at you with a desperate expression. despite the cold look on your face, and the amount of times you rejected him, he still pleads. "Please." he whines, his hands trembling against your thighs. "Please what..? not this again." you ask, glaring down at him. his hands grab at your raincoat, face a pleading mess.

"Need, You." he begs. you think for a second, a long exasperated sigh leaving your lips before you finally do what he always dreamed of. you roll your eyes, head tilting to a nod. that was all the conformation he needed.

...

hours had gone by, your unfortunate yet aching cunt so desperately clenched around his tongue, his hands clawing at your thighs.

his skilled tongue circled your clit an uncanny amount of times, his pace never slowing. "A-ah wait.. wait i cant.. fuccckk.." another orgasm ripped through you and then, only then, did his pace falter. "You, Like?" he asked, pulling his face up from your legs with an uncanny glare.

you nod many times, his smile only growing wider. his lips lean in and press against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue. as much as you denied your feelings for the man, you couldn't think of anything but how good he felt and tasted. with a thoughtful groan, you wiggle your finger at him, signaling for him to stand. immediately he obeys, face flushed and juices dripping down his chin. your eyes are locked on his for a second before you speak in a demanding tone.

"Take off your pants."

MR. SILVAIR

he was NEVER needy. so why was today different?

one of the other residents had managed to piss him off so much that he couldn't think straight. his usually calm demeanor shifted completely dark, not even a hint of his usual smile on his face.

even Mr. Chopped seemed worried, asking softly if he was okay. Mr. Silvair ignored him, his gaze fixated on your eyes. he nods his head to his "research room", silently instructing you to go. he follows closely behind you, the heavy door slamming shut and locking you both in the room.

...

a huff leaves his lips as his hands angrily lift you up and slam you on his examination table, ass up for him, with little to no way for you to escape.

"W-what are you doing? Whats wrong?.. Mr. Silvair-!" you ask hurriedly, hands scrambling to find something to grab. he ignores your pleas and hikes up your raincoat, forcing off your panties with one quick motion. you couldn't see him as you tried to look behind you, but you felt him sink to his knees. "H-hey- ah..!-" your words are cut off with a moan as his long, snakelike tongue slips between your folds.

Mr. Silvair's strong hands keep you spread with ease, giving him full access as he greedily eats your pussy like its the last meal on earth. "Stop Squirming." his usually calm voice turns dark, his fingers digging a touch deeper into your hips as he keeps you held up for him.

as hard as you can, you attempt to keep your hips still. his tongue reaches as deep as it can reach, making you harshly bite your lip and see stars, juices running down his face as you finally orgasm. "A-ah right there--fuck! please.." your begs go unnoticed as he releases you and stands, walking out of the room without another glance. seemingly, this little outburst would hold him down for a while.

be glad it was only his tongue this time.

MR. GAP

a while after you got used to your residency at the complex, you learned your lesson about walking near the gaps.

the man who always seemed to appear at the worst moments, would mainly only mess with you. usually, it would only be a small poke as your ankle as you walked by, a tug at your hair when you had your back turned, or small scares he would pull off.

eventually you learned to ignore it, or altogether stay away from the walls, but unfortunately for you, today was a day you slipped up. as careless as it seemed, you were walking on your own, tiredness taking over your expression. the day was hectic, having to deal with more than one entity at a time.

a sudden yelp escapes your throat as you are yanked by your arm into a small opening in the wall. your back ends up pressed against the nearest wall, Mr. Gap's face level with yours with that sick, uncanny expression he always has.

you huff and use your hand to push at his face, the ever so sassy man rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist. "You're No, Fun." he grumbles, hands fumbling with your shorts. "The fuck are you doing?" you mutter as a hushed yell, eyes glaring at his.

the grin on his face grows wider as he shoves off your pants, before suddenly dissolving into nothing. your eyes dart around, confusion evident in your expression until a sudden whine leaves your lips at an unknown feeling hits your core.

looking down, you find Mr. Gap nose deep in between your legs, eyes locked on yours as he smirks into you. your hand shoots down to grab his hair, attempting to pull him away as embarrassment fills your expression. though unluckily for you, or luckily depending on how you take it,, he doesn't move. instead, he groans into your hand, his hands tighten on your thighs as he pushes his face deeper, licking and sucking anything he can manage.

after many failed orgasms, and many tears from his constant edging, finally after everything he lets you cum, sucking hard enough on your clit to have a loud moan escape you, thighs clenching around his head.

though something tells you he isnt done.

MR. HOOD

as mono tuned as the man was, and as little as expressive as he was, he couldn't help his built up tension.

while no, he didn't understand the concept of love, or at-least he wouldn't admit it- he knew and felt the need for touch.

he often would allow you inside of his coat, usually just chilling in there or whatever you called it- but you never saw it as anything more than companionship. or so he figured. the moment he felt you experiment by placing your hand just above his crotch, his views changed.

with little to no effort, Mr. Hood plucked you out of his coat, setting you gently on the nearest table. he stared at you for a second, chest heavy. he could definitely sense your confusion- but as he kept his gaze on you, he reached out to grab your leg, his oddly feeling hand sat calmly on the inside of your thigh. "May, Touch?" Mr. Hood asked, an almost worried tone in his words. quicker than he could get his words out, you were nodding.

his body stilled for a second, almost as if he was debating his life choices, but ultimately decided to continue. gentle fingers reach under your raincoat, tugging down your panties with ease. and while he would never admit it, he quite greatly enjoyed the small sounds you made when his fingers traced your lips.

he hesitates for a second, before pushing a single ghostly finger inside. it was oddly cold, but felt so good inside of you as he worked his way in. a long moan leaves you, your hands reaching out to grab his arms.

one of his tentacles shoots out, replacing his finger that instead opted for your clit, rubbing in tight, hard circles. "Oh fuck.." you breathe out, legs trembling at your embarrassingly close orgasm. "I-im gonna c- mmngh!!" a hushed scream leave you as the tentacle curls, thrusting hard at your G-spot. it sends you over the edge, your juices flowing down your thighs and around the appendage. with a sigh, he pulls out, seemingly pleased.

"Turn Around."

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

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cheriecoke · 1 year ago

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.𖥔 ݁ ˖ LEAVING LIPSTICK STAINS ON LEVI

fem!reader, sfw, fluff, you leave lipstick all over levi before a mission and the scouts find out, just something super cutesy & short while i work on some longer pieces hehe, pls ignore errors lol, 1.3k words

“promise you’ll come back in one piece?” you say, smoothing the wrinkle between levi’s brow with a kiss.

he glances up at you from under his lashes, crinkling his nose as a short, breathy laugh escapes him, one he tries to subdue. still, he can’t deny the happiness that slips onto his features, not when joy is so fleeting because of the life that the two of you live.

cold hands run across your back, down to your hips as you straighten his collar, kissing his sharp cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. “i’ve made it this far, haven’t i?” levi mutters, squeezing your sides gently before shifting you off of his lap.

he lifts you, sets you on the edge of his desk, causing some of the papers that erwin had dropped off earlier to crinkle. a smile graces your lips as levi stands, stretching his limbs behind him, the chair pushing away from the desk with a creak.

“i’m going to be late because of you,” levi remarks, eyes narrowed playfully, but he gives you another kiss on the lips, lingering there like it’s painful to pull away.

“then stop kissing me.” your hands splay across his chest, but you don’t push him away, feeling his heart beat under his ribcage, the melody that you will always come back to. still, levi tugs your hips forward, slots in between your legs, and kisses you even deeper. “it’s time for you to go, captain levi.”

a heavy sigh weighs against your mouth, his exhale warm as he pulls back. “sounds like you want me gone.”

“of course i don’t.” your voice softens as you play with his fingers for a moment, before he's tugging them away gently, withdrawing from your figure. “i'm going to have to find someone else to sleep next to while you’re away."

normally, you would’ve been going with levi and the rest of the scouts, but an injury from your last mission prevented you from going on any more for a few weeks.

levi snorts, putting on his jacket, fixing the leather straps across his chest. “is that all i’m good for? killing titans and keeping your bed warm?”

you make a face at him, then shrug, half-hearted as he stares back at you with amusement. then, you laugh, cheerful and free; you know levi will come back to you. he has no other choice.

levi makes his way towards the door.

“levi?”

he turns, the lipstick stains still visible on his cheek, dark against his pale skin. for a moment, you wonder if you should tell him—if he’d be mad if you didn’t.

but then you remember he’s going to meet with a squad of fifteen year olds that have all almost died alongside him. if they really have a problem with their captain being loved by you, then they don’t care about him as much as you thought.

you smile and shake your head, voice holding just enough mischief for levi to notice. “just be safe. i love you.”

he softens. there are times where levi is hesitant to say the words, still worried you will be taken from him. but this is not one of those times. not when you will be separated for days, his life once again in danger. “i love you too, sweetheart.”

within ten minutes, levi is down to the first floor, pushing into the room where the members of his squad are already waiting.

he’s only a minute late, but he feels like they must have been waiting for hours, the way that they are all gawking at him with wide eyes, connie’s jaw faltering slightly. “everyone here?” levi asks, doing a quick scan of the room, counting heads like he’s their babysitter.

no one says anything. eren’s eyes look like they might bulge out of his head, and jean covers his mouth, looking away as him and sasha let out a stifled giggle.

levi’s mouth draws into an even thinner line. “what the hell are you snickering about?" he grumbles, looking at each of them individually, wondering who will be the first to confess.

their eyes dart away dramatically, faces red. even eren, who is normally more obnoxious than the rest, seems to have run out of words to say.

his eye twitches; levi wonders if connie’s head might burst, or if sasha’s laugh will rip out of her first.

“well?” levi asks again, snapping, already tired of this mission. a hot cup of tea sounds nice, in bed next to you.

armin, as usual, is the one to speak up when no one else has anything intelligent to say. “well, sir,” the blonde says, gesturing towards his own face. “i think…”

levi touches his cheek, remembering all the places you’d kissed him earlier, wearing that pretty black dress and your dark lipstick. a sigh leaves him when he pulls his fingers away, the tips coming back, smeared with a deep red.

he should've known.

“i see," levi says, staring for a moment, before meeting eren's eyes, his lips finally widening into a grin.

“ooooh," eren sings, his expression smug as mikasa elbows him, her own features pinched tight. "the captain’s in looooove."

levi knows they are expecting a reaction, a spectacle of the fact that he adores you. but he’s never kept it a secret, and he’s certainly not ashamed of all the things he feels for you.

“and what if i am?” levi asks instead, pointedly staring eren down as the rest of the scouts watch the exchange. “honestly, i am surprised no one noticed sooner.”

eren’s jaw falters a bit; a small wave of silence falls over the scouts. you and levi don't make a point of hiding your relationship, but really, levi shouldn’t have been surprised that no one in his squad was observant enough to notice.

or so he thought, anyway.

historia’s smaller, high-pitched voice breaks up the quiet, repeating your name back to him, as if affirmation that you’re the one he kisses goodnight. a silly question really, considering levi has never looked at anyone else with the same kind of tenderness.

“it is her, isn’t it?” historia asks, smiling softly. “i only know because you’re always holding hands under the table when you think no one can see.”

levi raises his eyebrow. “clearly we were wrong about that.” though, of all the things to notice, he thought it’d be the way you kiss him after every mission, the way he’s harder on you than anyone else because he doesn’t want to lose you.

eren shrieks your name like he’s never heard it before, and levi is starting to wonder if the boy actually is an idiot. his old squad had known immediately; petra caught you sneaking up to levi’s quarters when you thought everyone else was asleep, kissing him on the cheek when you thought everyone's back was turned.

it’s been a long time since then, he supposes. maybe the years have taught you subtlety.

“how long have you been together?”

“does she actually like you?”

“do you—” connie makes a lewd gesture with his fingers. “you know.”

“connie!” jean shouts, whacking him on the back of the head. “what do you think! dumbass.”

“hey!" connie says, rubbing his head. “geez. i just can’t picture it.”

"i’d rather you didn’t." levi’s face turns sour, disturbed by a room full of teenagers discussing his private and romantic life. “bring it up again and i’ll leave you outside of the wall on the next mission.” he pauses, crosses his arms with an exasperated exhale. “and she likes me just fine. at least, she has for the past five years.”

“five—”

a new wave of questioning starts and levi pinches his temples, shakes his head, the red smear of lipstick still on his face.

levi almost wishes you could’ve been there to field the questions instead. you’ve always been better with the kids, connected with them a lot easier than levi had.

even if it was would’ve exposed his lovesick eyes, the tiny lift of the corner of his mouth when you were around.

he’s never been very good about hiding it anyway.

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rafey-baby · 1 month ago

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stepdad!rafe being gross about his stepdaughter…

c/w: stepcest, kinda angsty, slight somnophilia & some dubcon fingering, use of dad, 18+ mdni!

wc: 880

if u don’t like stuff like this pls scroll & read something else xx

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Her relationship with her stepdad has always been rather strange.

But she’s never really minded, because it felt nice to have someone fill that hollow pit inside her, the one that’s always been there, haunting her ever since her father left when she was just a little girl. An itch she could never quite scratch.

It didn’t help that her mother was never exactly present in her life either— always too busy with work or looking for solace from the bottom of a wine bottle or blaming her for everything wrong in her life.

She was sixteen when her mom brought Rafe home for the first time. And she never quite understood why he had married the woman in the first place— why he filed for divorce only after she’d moved out for uni, and not the moment he found out his wife wasn’t spending all those late nights in the office, but instead in the bed of a stranger.

However, she didn’t much care for his reasons because he’d always been more of a parent to her than the people who were supposed to. She always secretly wished he would’ve been her real dad— not just someone she assumed felt obligated to take her under his wing when he found out how horribly she’d been treated all her life.

That’s why she never really paid too much attention to his lingering touches or the borderline controlling tendencies that always seemed to fizzle to the surface whenever she’d do something he deemed bad. She was just happy that she finally had someone who made her feel safe, protected. What more could she really ask for?

It felt nice when someone cared.

And now, even if she’s legally an adult and capable of making her own decisions, she prefers when Rafe makes them for her. After all, is it so wrong to just want to be taken care of?

Because university was a lot. And the never-ending deadlines, assignments and all the late nights she spent trying to understand something she just couldn’t, had grown into this hurricane inside of her. It swallowed up everything that once made life beautiful and worth living; hiding them away from her, until she was crying to her phone nearly every night with her daddy on the other end, trying to calm her down, but to no avail.

And she could only take it for so long until one day, she was knocking on the door of Rafe’s brand new house with tear-soaked eyes and a suitcase— his strong arms wrapped tightly around her the only thing able to placate her in months because with him, everything felt secure.

And she liked spending time with him and living on the island, had even gotten a weekend job at a surf shop (despite his protests) because she wanted to do something useful, something other than loitering around the house that felt more like a spooky mansion whenever he was at work.

The empty hallways and her spacious bedroom were especially unsettling at night when she’d had a bad dream— more often than not making her tiptoe over to Rafe’s bedroom with a pout, asking if she could sleep there instead. ‘Of course you can, sweetheart’ he’d always murmur; voice gravelly with sleep and already making space for her under the covers…

Then one night, as she’s peacefully snoozing off in his warm embrace, his fingertips slip past the waistband of her fleecy pajama bottoms— merely grazing at the smooth skin of her lower tummy, telling himself he’s just trying to do something with his hands so sleep could find him faster.

That’s until he notices she’s not wearing any panties, getting an insatiable urge to tuck his fingers between her soft thighs— already meeting a sticky mess there. After all, he only has so much self-control around the innocent little angel he swears was sent from heaven just for him to taint; to ruin.

And it’s not like she seems to mind with the way she snuggles closer to him in her sweet slumber; the round of her ass pressing closer and closer against his crotch with every unconscious shift of her hips.

Only when he begins mindlessly thumbing at her clit, does she stir— drowsy voice panicky when she mumbles out something inaudible.

“Shh. S’just me, relax, yeah?” he hushes her, wet fingertips rubbing lazy circles over her weepy cunt when she whines— a complaint already blossoming on her tongue, something about him being gross, no doubt.

“Is dad not makin’ you feel nice?” he coos, other hand dragging her closer with a grip on her thigh when she tries to pull away.

“This is— you shouldn’t…” she stumbles over her words, trying to wriggle away from his overwhelming touch.

“Shh, what do I always tell you, hm?” he clicks his tongue, his hold firm as he coaxes her to tell him what he wants to hear.

Momentarily, she gets distracted from squirming around as she searches through her fuzzy brain before whispering out the answer. “…dad knows what’s best.”

“There you go, that’s m’girl,” he breathes out, pressing a gentle kiss to the apple of her cheek as a reward— smiling against the skin when she lets out a muffled whimper, because his hands do feel nice.

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sh1-n0bu · 7 days ago

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♡︎ 𝙖𝙬𝙤𝙤𝙜𝙖𝙨! ♡︎

characters: sub!big men x gn!dom!reader

warnings: cock/strap/dick traditions, boob fucking, cumming on face, body, feminization, size difference, mentions of pregnancy, dumbification, lactation, feminine language used for the characters (princess, womb, maiden etc so pls tread with caution if that ain’t ur thing), read with optional bias character in mind

notes: nobu finally posting smt??????? nobu actually writing for once???????????? also this is just my obsession with boobs talking. dividers from cafekitsune. manga color tint by me

big men! with big chests that gets mistaken or joked of it being boobs by close friends and colleagues, who had gotten used to it. who at first used to get all blushy blushy but nowadays just shrugs it off with a disgruntled huff of “knock it off”

big men! who didn’t really see much problem when you started to favor their chest more, eventually opting to use them as a pillow rather than use your actual pillow since it gives them the advantage of falling asleep with you on top of them and they got to cuddle with you all night. a win-win situation in his book, as he could be quite clingy when behind closed doors. who laughs sometimes at the silliness of you smothering your face in between his chests, finding your obsession with his pecs to be endearing

big men! who didn’t realize how sensitive their chest could be until you decide to show it to them. squeezing, fondling the large muscles, tweaking his cute nipples occasionally and making him jolt in place with a cute blush covering his ears and cheeks. so adorable, like a meager bunny when he was nearly twice your size and could probably crush a grown man’s skull in with their hand

big men! who get so worked up over the dirty words you whisper when you pinch his hardened nipples, your words of “i could make your chest lactate”, “your boobs feel so heavy, darling”, “such a nice big tits you have” making him whine in the back of his throat, shaking his head as he shakily denies that “t-they’re not b-boobs… y-you nngh know that…”

big men! who gets manhandled by your smaller frame to lay on their backs, a cute surprised “eengk!” escaping his swollen lips as he looks up at you, pushing his tight shirt up until they’re resting over his chest, showing the big muscles you love so much. who cutely whine and wriggle in place under you as your fingers bully his hardened buds, pinching at the cute pinks, tugging on them before letting go, a noise of awe leaving your lips at the way his chest fucking jiggles while your bf could only jolt with words of “c-cruel… you’re so cruel to me. pu-unhh puppYAGH!”

big men! who get fucked stupid, brain churning into a mush by only having his nipples played with. pinched, tugged, even bitten till your fangs and teeth leaves a round mark closed around his areola that he slurs is too deep, acting like he is getting his tight hole spread open and fucked by your cock. whose face is so cutely flushed, eyes dazed over as he breathes heavily of “wan’ moowr.. ungh h-haah… annh♡︎ m-more please? touch me.. to-ouch me moore”

big men! who act like a sweet virgin who never got himself fucked by you when you kick off your pants, hardened cock already springing out and slapping against his cute boobs. who stare at your oozing tip with gaping mouth, letting out stuttered questions of “w-what… whaddaya doin’? h-hunny, noouw… no, don’t—♡︎!” before squealing when you squeeze his chest together, rutting your strap in between them

big men! who act like they have never seen your cock, never tasted it or even deep throated it before, acting like he never once took your dildo into his pretty hole until his legs shook as you fuck his boobs, moaning loudly like the cute bunny he is. who opens his mouth, jaw shaking as fat tears collect in his big doe eyes, messily sucking the tip, getting drunk on the taste of your pre already when you politely ask him to suck you off

big men! whose hands shakily grasp your ass, unintentionally helping you fuck their tits even more, pushing your strap even deeper inside his mouth as if he wanted you to just let go of their boobs and just fuck their throat instead. who lets out a cute confused noise, mouth full of your cock, batting his lashes up at you like the pretty little thing he is when you move his trembling hands to hold his boobs together instead of your ass. who tries to speak words of not knowing how to do it, still mouthful, as you give a tug to his cute bitten nipple, making him squeak

big men! who meagerly tries to fuck your cock in between his mounds, choking on your tip when you tilt his head down just enough so he could also suck you off, acting as if you just shoved your entire strap down his throat and was keeping it there, snuggly shutting him up. a whiny bf whose tears finally fall when you cum into his hot mouth, dropping of your cock when you came as if he was never drunk on the taste of your seeds before, letting some of it shoot over his face and hair instead. a hunky beast of a man, sniffling like a baby when he notices the mess you made of him, who dares to give you a half assed glare as if you forced him to make a mess

big men! who gets addicted to boob fucking after that one time thing, constantly thinking back on the feeling of squishing his own chest together to fuck your dick for you. whose hands finds themselves wandering to his pecs more often, pushing them together and moving them in soft round circles as if you would suddenly appear and fill the empty space between his boobs. who finds himself messing with his nipples over the tight fit of his shirt, finding himself to be perverted as he gets turned on by just fondling with his chest

big men! who, unable to keep teasing themselves anymore, start to touch themselves when you’re away on work or whatever. more specifically, their chests. rutting his clothed, hardened cock against a pillow that is squished between his thighs, tweaking at his nipples and tugging on them — just like how you do it — before letting go with a whimper. it hurt, but it also felt so good, he could feel his precum already wetting his boxers

big men! who finds out that his constant arousal by his nipples was a bad idea, as now every time he wears a tight shirt or compression vest, his nipples are rubbed and he finds himself getting horny. who, in desperation, decides to tenderly tape the cute pink nubs with a band aid, pouting to himself about how you were slowly but surely turning him into a perv

big men! who now finds it much easier to use his boobs to fuck you, quick to drop down to their knees in front of your clothed crotch, kissing the hidden thighs and inhaling at your natural scent with a love stricken look in their eyes. a cute, desperate bf who kisses your strap, rubbing you with his hands to try and get you hard as quick as possible. who hook their shirt over their chest, intentionally pushing his boobs together with his hands on his knees, creating the effect of round shaped breasts

big men! who impatiently watches until your cock is free, taking it into his mouth the moment you slide down your undergarments, suckling at the head just like how you enjoy it. who push you down to sit, so he could climb onto your lap, pushing his chest together so he could fuck your strap with his boobs, determined that now he had learned a good technique to make you feel good. who is quick to take the head of your dildo into his mouth, swiping the gathered pre with a pleased hum, looking up at your through his thick lashes with a drunken giggle before pulling away to spit on your hard on

big men! who drunkenly take the head of your strap into their hot mouth, suckling away at the delicious precum, unafraid to slobber all over your cock and his chest as he slowly moves the big muscles in a circular motion. who giggles in delight at your words of praise and groans, the tip of your cock that is still in his mouth vibrating with his drunk laughter. beefy bf who eagerly lap away at your cock head, slurping at the mess he made of his own drool and your precum before taking it back into his mouth, hollowing out his cheeks for you. only for you♡︎

big men! who pulls away again when you cum, watching with a cute mix of fascination and lewd anticipation as your hot cum shoots all over his jaws and chest, painting his skin in white. massaging your balls and stroking you through it all, opening his mouth slack as he stares up at you with hazed eyes, letting the last few drops shoot into his awaiting tongue, licking at his full lips with a pleasured hum. the salty, slightly sweet taste, a familiar one that he had gotten drunk on within the first round

big men! who straddle your lap, rubbing your wet strap on the round curve of his ass with a giddy giggle, feeling how the slippery wet tip doesn’t enter his tight hole without helping hands. finally, grasping at your dick with his hand, giving it a few strokes before pressing the tip against his entrance. your sweet bf who decide to be bold, sinking down onto your cock with one swift movement, a choked sob getting stuck in his throat at the sudden feeling of being “f-fughkk♥︎ a-aah haah mnngh♡︎ shooo fu-ull.. gut’s so ffuul of m-my [name]♥︎”

big men! who ride your dick all night, even as his muscles strain and his brain gets fucked into a stupid mush, slurring words of love and lust, saying all sorts of lewd things through his cum and drool covered pink lips as the kissable looking pair of muscles turn into a cute drunken smile. beefy big bf whose tits bounce all the while, their cute jiggles every time they sink down into your dick hypnotizing you to only focus on them. an adorable squeal escaping him as you tear away the band aids from his nipples, the stimulated nubs all hard and blush red as they greet you

big men! who squeeze their breast, forefinger and thumb squeezing around his nipple, as he grins at you with blown wide heart shaped eyes. “a-ain’t they cute…? dontcha wanna suck-unghk suck on them?” he asks, squishing his mound softly with a near delirious grin on his face. “come owwnn, don’t my [name] wanna taste my milk♡︎?”

big men! who lets out a pleased wet sob when you do give in, suckling, biting, squeezing at his jiggling boobs as he starts to bounce on your cock with a more fervent pace. who cries out at it being painful when you leave another teeth mark around his nub, one of his hands placed over his chest like one of the scared damsels in paintings. who slur out words of not being a damsel, of being a maiden, shaking his head as if he actually understood anything

big men! who gets their wombs filled with your cum for nth time that night, feeling his stomach start to bloat at the sheer amount he greedily took into his eager hole. fucked dumb bf who shakes his head at your words of getting off, refusing to lose the warmth in his stretched hole and filled stomach. who only notices when you pointed out, that his nipple was leaking, lactating a delicious white milk that dribbled down to his cum covered tummy. another drunk giggle follows, as he gets close to your ear to whisper a filthy slurred “now that i’m p-pregnant, my [name] better take responsibility♥︎”, having completely forgotten that he can’t get pregnant. but oh well, your beefy bf who is so adorable as he giddily speaks of carrying your young, rubbing at his belly with hearts swirling in his eyes, to the point you can’t bring yourself to correct him. only going slack on the couch with your sweet princess still on your lap

⇨ JOTUN LOKI, jiyan, diluc, alhaitham, CAPITANO, zhongli/rex lapis form, itto, wriothesley, JUNG YUAN, YINGXING, argenti, GALLAGHER, gepard, yhan, yuanwu, GLORFINDEL, maedhros, elu thingol, finarfin, FINROD, logan, thor, DIAVOLO, beelzebub, anubis (ennead), gyomei, YORIICHI, messmer the impaler + whoever you like!

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torubeth · 10 months ago

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degradation taken too far (mature content 18+)

context/warnings : it’s smut, so kids shoo! hell of a lot of degradation. they’re so mean i hate them. (swearing, words used : slut and slutty) angst to i have no idea what. pls do lmk if i missed any tws. and as always, its not proofread :p gojo ver.

ryomen sukuna ‘is that all you can do? all your yapping earlier about ridin’ me was just talks? answer me’ his sudden shift in demeanour has you feeling really small. sure he is a rude ass prick but not to you. never to you.

‘no- i can take it. i really can ryo’ tears sting at your eyes as you struggle to take in his full length. his hands giving your waist a small squeeze.

‘yeah and that’s all you’ve been saying for the past goddamn fifteen minutes. either you take it like a good girl or i’ll just have to find someone who will. trust me, i can’ he eyes held no remorse of the words he just spewed and that’s when you break.

correction, you shatter.

somewhere in the back of your head you knew he’ll never leave you but him wording it out makes it seem like it’s bound to happen.

and so tears stroll down your cheeks, your hands and legs giving out on you, your body going limp against his and you whisper the same thing over and over again.

‘don’t leave me ryo. i’m sorry. didn’t mean to upset you. i’m so sorry. don’t leave’

quickly his arms wrap around your body protectively, your face between his shoulder blade and neck, wetting the area with fresh batch of tears.

‘i could never leave you. you’re-’ you’re it for me. ‘you’re always the one that keeps me sane. there’s no way i’ll ever leave you. i’m sorry baby, forgive me. i didn’t mean a word of what i said’ he says.

when he didn’t get a response from you ‘look at me’ he whispers. slowly you leave the comfort of his neck and meet his eyes.

‘i didn’t mean it. you could leave me on deathbed and i still wouldn’t mean it’

‘i can’t leave you ryo. i love you way too much’ you sniffle, new tears threatening to spill so you go back to huddle against his neck.

god. he knows you mean it. and that’s what makes him feel like a dickhead.

‘me too, i- i lo-’ he struggles, just as your palm reaches up to cover his mouth.

‘i know ryo, i know’ you whisper, placing your forehead against his, both of you basking in the quietness of the surrounding.

geto suguru ‘fuckin-! ah shit! some insane grip you have on me baby. can’t move if you clench and lock me up like that’ he smirks against your neck.

‘and a bit quiet today ain’t ya? you sure had a lot to say to satoru earlier heh’ he remarks.

‘we were just catching up suguru, nothing-! nothing more’ you whine.

‘catching up you say? does catching up require smiles and touches? do they angel baby?’ he raises his eyebrows.

‘no..’ you avert your eyes away from his.

‘that’s what i thought. so for that, now you pay’ he pulls out suddenly, and pushes all the way back in making you yelp out loud.

‘sugu! ah fuck, i don’t think i can go another round baby. s’too much!’ the pressure was starting to get to you and you were starting to lose stability.

‘hah, i know you can baby, this slutty pussy’s all you’re good for anyway. fuck, doesn’t matter whose it is, as long as you’re filled. am i right?’ his words pierced straight through your heart.

since when did he-?

out of reflex, your hands reach out to touch his face to make sure that this was a dream nightmare. otherwise there’s no way he-

‘don’t touch me with those filthy hands’ he spits but makes no effort to push your hand off.

‘do you really think that’s all i’m good for?’ your voice is soft, filled with pain, and suddenly it’s like he’s broken out of his trance.

what the fuck am i doing, he thought.

slowly he pulls out, all whilst holding your hand against his cheek.

‘absolutely not. no. fuck, did not mean it angel. i promise. i- i don’t know what came over me-! didn’t mean it. please i’m sorry. next time if i ever lose my shit with you, i want you to take the nearest sharp object and plunge it into my chest’ he heaves out a guttural sigh.

‘you were really mean you know..’ you wipe your eyes.

‘i know baby, fuck. i didn’t mean it. i did not mean it. i’ll never do it again princess, ever’ he repeats.

his face lands on your chest, thanking all the gods and the stars out there for giving him another chance.

he’ll never screw up again and that’s a promise.

nanami kento ‘you really couldn’t wait for a few hours? just had to go and think with your cunt, right? have you no- ugh! no shame?’ his thrusts were sloppy as his hands were placed around your hips.

‘kento- slow down baby, i- i don’t think i can last’ you whine, hands clutching at the sheets.

‘no. you asked for this you little slut. so shut. the. fuck. up. and take it!’ each syllable was accompanied by a harsh thrust.

the usually composed, sweet and calm nanami was nowhere to be found. he’s never once called you a ‘slut’ and what caused this? you rubbing him through his pants and riling him up at his office dinner earlier tonight.

he warned you off multiple times but did you listen? no.

‘why are you so quiet now? i thought this is what you wanted’ his voice comes out raspy and cold.

a quiet but audible whimper escaped your lips, making him halt his actions.

slowly he pulled out, gently laying you on your back as your body shook with each sob.

‘sweetheart…? why are you…’

you look up at him, eyes puffy and swolllen ‘i’m sorry kento, it’s just that, you’re never home these days and i missed you so much’ a cry that’s sure to crack his heart leaves your lips.

‘i just wanted you all to myself for tonight but i didn’t mean to be a bother-’

his warm body hovers over yours, ‘you’re never a bother baby. always know that. you will always be at the top of every and any list i make. there’s nothing more i want than coming home to you everyday after work. and i didn’t mean to lash out at you. you didn’t deserve that, i’m sorry’ he leans down to press a kiss to your forehead.

‘you will always have me sweetheart, never forget that. now let me make it up to you yeah?’

#bro i’m actually so scared to post this cuz i’ve never written anything like it before god bless #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #geto smut #jjk x reader smut #jjk x reader #geto x reader smut #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #geto x reader #nanami smut #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader #nanami kento smut

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rae-writes · 1 year ago

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OnlyFantoms???

om brothers x reader

wc : 2.k

warnings : nsfw, gn!reader with skirt wearing (mammon, satan), panties/lingere wearing (satan, asmo), online sharing

synopsis : lets see what the latest trending porn videos are

dateables/sides ver. || being asked about it in a livestream

Your legs are spread open for the camera, hooked over your boyfriend’s with no chance of closing them, while his hand is shoved down the front of your bottoms. The other roams your body— sliding up your shirt and wrapping around your throat. Your arms are clearly straining themselves as they hold your body up, all so you could rock your hips against Lucifer’s fingers; though the view is covered by your clothes, the slick sounds are all too clear, giving away how aroused you really were. When your arms finally give out and you fall back against his chest, there’s a shift in the air that you can practically feel as his bicep flexes under the fabric of his shirt, free arm yanking you up higher on his lap so he can finger you harder. Over the sound of your moans and cries for him to ‘please let me cum, been s’good for you, please please please’, you can hear Lucifer’s signature low chuckle and the faint sound of his shaky breathing before he’s giving you permission, outright laughing when you squeal and jerk in his grasp. His hand slips from your bottoms, and though his face isn’t in frame, it’s clear he’s licking your cum off his fingers right before the video cuts off.

Good grades get rewarded | 0:45 seconds | 108.k views | 100.k likes | 97.k comments

Lucifer?!

Hand cam hand cam hand cam

Dude, isn’t Mc a straight A student? THIS IS WHAT THEY GET FOR EVERY A??

I’d good grades too if I had the morning star behind me like this

^I’d get good grades if I could have Mc in my lap like this tf

†

Panting and moaning fill the dim atmosphere, mixing in with the faint sound of slapping skin as large hands push and pull at your hips. The camera is positioned only to catch your lower bodies, but through the dark you can still catch the bobbing of Mammon’s adams apple and the curve of your mouth as you place kisses along his jaw. His grip on your hips makes your skirt ride up higher and higher, showing more and more slivers of skin until your entire ass is on display. There’s a shine- the mix of your cum and his- everytime he pulls you up, only to disappear with a filthy ‘shlick’ as he yanks you back down onto his cock. There’s a natural haze to the lens and the windows are entirely fogged up— sweat is beading and rolling down his exposed chest, showing you’ve been at this much longer before the recording ever started. By now, the second born has started emitting whiny growls as he switches to grinding you and the audio picks up a nearly inaudible choked out version of your name before his arms are circling around you and he’s lifting you up slightly with his last thrust. It’s quiet as you pet his hair while he’s busy massaging your waist- and then you're reaching over to grab the camera with a giggle, angling it to see the mess you’ve both made over your clothes. There’s a hushed ‘Lucifer’s gonna kill us-!’ before the screen goes black.

Greed is the name of the game | 2:45 minutes | 95.k views | 91.k likes | 86.k comments

A Y O???

PLS mammon sounded so hot

I don’t know who I’m jealous of or who I’d rather be rn

I wanna be the car

Come get y’all’s dinner, we’re eating good toDAY

†

The pretty lighting of the fish tank washes over you, highlighting the red scratch lines trailing down Levi’s abdomen to where you’re placing kisses along his hips and pelvis. The sounds are a bit exaggerated- both to make the demon squirm in embarrassment- and because you’ve got the hood of his jacket thrown up to cover your face. Levi’s got his arms pressed close to his chest, hands gripping the controller so hard the plastic creaks every so often; you can hear the shooting from his game and the frantic mashing of buttons. When you finally take his cock in your mouth, seen by your head bobbing at a fast pace, a loud moan rips from his throat and his hips begin thrusting against your ministrations. The room is filled with whines and whimpers, begs to ‘please go faster’, and your amused laughing. There’s a distinct pop when you pull off his cock and replace your mouth with your hand, all so you could lean up and slam your lips against his. Levi throws the controller to the side, hands scrambling to grab the back of your head and the wrist of the hand that’s jerking him off. He’s practically brainless now as he cries and begs for you to make him cum, switching between that and making those lewd, slick, noises whenever your tongue plays with his. When you command him to cum, he shrieks at the intensity, pulling you closer and closer until you're on top of him and his cum is streaking your clothes. There’s a meek ‘I’m sorry’ and the sound of your giggling before your hands go to the waistband of your pants and the video cuts off.

Motivation for true gamers | 1:30 minutes | 87.k views | 85.k likes | 74.k comments

Making these sounds my alarm as we speak

WHEN WILL IT BE MY TURN

Suddenly I’ve become a master gamer

Never picked up a controller in my life but I’m otw to buy one rn

Reverse the roles please I beg!!

†

There’s a fairly large spellbook in your hands as you sit on your boyfriend’s lap at one of the library tables; he has his head buried in the crook of your neck, fingers digging at your hips as he subtly rocks you back and forth over his cock. The side profile shows only your skirt bunched up to your upper thighs and lace green panties tugged down to your knees— everything is completely covered, even when Satan gets bold and begins bouncing you up and down. No sounds are made except for a faint creaking of the chair and the spellbook thudding against the table when your back arches. All movements halt when someone’s shadow passes by, but as soon as they’re gone, your arms reach back to wrap around Satan’s neck, fingers burying in his blonde locks and tugging desperately. You can’t help the way you begin fucking Satan without his guidance or the way short whimpers begin falling from your lips. He lets out a low hiss, wrapping a hand around your mouth harshly to keep things quiet, all while he pushes you forward to bend over the table as he stands. He pounds at you roughly, using the fabric of your skirt to keep your skin from slapping together. The frantic pace doesn’t stop until he’s got you shaking from your orgasm and he’s following along with a muffled growl. Only then does he let go of your mouth and kiss at where his fingers dug in a little too roughly, massaging over your hips as he whispers about a ‘another study session well done’ before the video cuts.

Shh— quiet in the library | 5:00 minutes | 91.k views | 87.k likes | 82.k comments

regretting never getting into reading after this

what days do you two go to the library, asking for a friend

my face was pressed up against the screen the entire video

can I be the bookmark

putting in my librarian application asap

†

It was a sight that would be found in the best of porn magazines: your body on display with a pretty- expensive- champagne lingerie set that matched the fifth born’s hair color to a tee, while Asmo himself was completely bare, smiling face all dolled up and in frame. What made it even more delicious was his manicured fingers wrapped around his own cock, sliding along the slick area as he gave breathy moans and laughs, all while resting his head on your thigh to watch you pleasure yourself as well. Each bite and lick he delivered to your skin was slow and drawn out, matching the pace each of you were going— but one sharp tug to Azzy’s locks made his back arch with a sharp cry, eyes flashing pink. It’s a blur as he yanks you on top of him, lace-covered ass now on full display for the camera as it bounces along with his movements. The noises are so beautifully vile as you both grind against one another, moans reflecting back that get louder and louder the harder he pulls you down. A few whiny ‘I’m gonna cum!’ exclamations escape him before he forces his cock in you at the last second and practically screams with how intense it made everything feel. There’s thirty seconds of sweet talk and giggling before he’s lifting you up bridal style and you both wag your fingers at the camera before the video ends.

Dress up, dress down | 8:15 minutes | 123.k views | 117.k likes | 103.k comments

I can die happy now

FOR FREE?!?!

I can’t decide who sounds better or looks better

^the answer is both

thank you for the fIVE COURSE FUCKING M E A L

†

The sound of running water does nothing to hide the sharp sounds of slapping skin or the rumbly growls Beel is letting out. His wings are sparkling under the shower spray, fluttering rapidly as he fucks into you; his muscles flex with each movement, practically showing off to the camera since he has his backside facing it. Your legs, lifted up to his shoulders with your knees to your ears, and your hands gripping tightly at his horns are the only part of you that can be seen. Your voice echoes, though, loud and whiny moans that hitch each time he delivers a harsher thrust. You can see his hands wandering, unable to pick a place to grip or knead underneath his fingertips, just like his head keeps tilting or ducking down to scatter kisses and bites and hickeys over your skin. When his pace finally falters, it’s due to his stuttering hips and an unrestrained moan tears from his throat, followed by ‘c-cumming! G’na cum inside, fuck, fuck—!’ You can see his knees buckle a bit and your hands white-knuckling his horns. He gives a few frantic thrusts before he crushes your body against him and stills, letting the water cascade down your bodies with content sighs. The sound of a door opening echoes, followed by laughter from multiple people, before you’re whispering ‘now how are you gonna sneak me out?’ and the video cuts black.

A filthy cleaning | 6:26 minutes | 89.k views | 78.k likes | 72.k comments

Can we talk about his sheer strength?? The muscles?? The effortless pace??

THAT ASS THO

ain’t never seen a more lucky human

Is that…the Fangol’s locker room showers-

I— please??

†

For a moment, there’s only giggling and the rustling of blankets to be heard as you crawl onto Belphie’s lap— whose face is completely hidden by the plush pillows surrounding him. There’s a faint huff from the demon as you begin grinding on his lap, which quickly devolves into groans the harder you press against his bulge. It’s not long before he’s full on moaning, though not yet awake, and you’re lifting yourself up to take his cock out. His oversized shirt you’re wearing hides you well- only showing enough skin to tell you weren’t wearing underwear- and shields the way you fist his cock before lining it at your entrance. Belphie stirs then, voice coming out hoarse as he calls your name groggily. You drop down, not bothering to go slow, and the seventh born lets out a high pitched whine, hips raising in surprise before he’s flush against the bed again, letting you fuck him till your hearts content. You do exactly that, with your hands pressed to his chest for support, and his own clawing desperately at your thighs. His voice remains in a higher pitch, moaning and whining and whimpering, getting louder and louder until you let out a sharp demand for him to cum, and then he’s cumming with a broken gasp— all Belphie can do is give choked cries when you keep rocking your hips and the video ends after hearing your ‘nu-uh, baby, not done yet. Still want more.’

Wake up call | 7:30 minutes | 84.k views | 80.k likes | 75.k comments

holy fuck I wanna be belphie so bad

why don’t I get woken up this way wtf

This! Is! How! You! Do! It! People!

Can— can we just. Talk about that WHINE THOUGH?!

The grip on their thighs and hoarse moans are sending me

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burymagdalene · 25 days ago

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New Year's Wish - S. Reid x Reader

In which reader has to "deal" with their horny boyfriend attached to their hip all night, leading them to sort him out in the bathroom.

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader genre: Fluff & Smut (18+ pls pls) tags: subbyish spencer, semi-public sex, fondling, masturbation (m receiving) just a bit of crying, overstimulation.. smut, and love! wc: 2.2k. a/n: My first fic that came to fruition after a flu spell! I had a vision for the vibe of this but didn't know how to attach them in the cute 3 pictures above a fanfiction way.. sorry-- I DID IT

New Year’s Eve always feels like that holiday where you always have high hopes for, but consistently falls flat. Luckily, this year you have your sweet boyfriend, Spencer by your side to help you through the social interactions with mutual friends all night. Though, the alcohol helps alongside that as well.

You’re looking into the mirror with squinted eyes at your reflection, analyzing what more to add to your outfit as Spencer gawks at you from your bed. “Spence, should I have my striped tights with this dress, or no tights? I’m worried I’ll be freezing.”

Spencer forcibly peels his eyes away from your curves in the tight dark gray dress you have on. “Tights. Yeah.” He pulls his lips in for a polite smile.

“Roger that!” You walk over to retrieve the tights from your dresser, Spencer’s music plays softly from a speaker and you sway along to it, “I like this one.” You walk back over to your boyfriend who still sits rigidly on your bed, despite how many times he’s been in it.

“Would you like to do the honors?” With a hand reached out, you display the tights to Spencer.

Spencer gives you a full-tooth grin, “Why yes I would” and pats the space next to him on your bed. You dramatically plop down as Spencer stands up, between your legs. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you smile at Spencer as he starts to pull one of your stocking legs up your foot. Slowly shimmying it up, he traces over your ankle and up your calf.

“I’m a little nervous for tonight, I haven’t been to this house party in a couple years, but it was pretty fun last time,” you make conversation. Your good friend Tatum had invited you and Spencer to come to a New Year’s Eve house party at her boyfriend, Eric’s house. You had been a few years prior in support of her endeavors of seducing said Eric, which obviously went well.

Spencer hums and once the other leg has been covered, takes your hands to pull you up so that you’re standing and he can pull the tights up your waist. His hands flip your dress up to pull over your underwear and straighten it back down once the tights are on. “So pretty,” he starts laughing “you look so pretty you don’t have to be nervous about anything ever.”

“Shut up,” you giggle and pull him by his neck in for a kiss. “Let’s go, the sooner we leave the sooner I can rummage through Eric's stuff.”

Within 30 minutes you have arrived at Eric's, made pleasantries, taken a shot with your friend and some of her friends you pretend to know the names of, and are sitting on the couch side-by-side with Spencer, who has his hand freakishly high up your thigh.

Conversation goes better than your pre-party nerves prompted you to believe, there’s a good amount of people so that you can watch, and the wine being served was not bitterly disgusting.

Spencer now rests his head on your shoulder, his side pressed neatly up against yours as he draws mindless circles into your patterned tights. He slowly moves up to your ear “kiss?” he mumbles softly.

You position yourself so you're craning down a bit to make eye contact, and raise a suspicious eyebrow. PDA is not something Spencer is obsessed with, so kissing in a room with a large group of people should’ve been your first warning of how Spencer was feeling tonight. Regardless, you relent, how could you not kiss him in any circumstance? You lean down and peck him softly.

Spencer sighs into the kiss, and sighs even harder when you pull away. You giggle and poke his side softly with your index finger. “I think we’re supposed to save all the kissing for midnight, love.”

He lazily laughs, shifts his head and plants a wet kiss onto your exposed neck, which causes you to blush with how open he’s being in front of everyone. “Who made that rule,” he whines “I thought you’re allowed to kiss whenever but are supposed to especially kiss at midnight.”

“Hmm, well actually I don’t kno-” he cuts you off with a giggle and a firm kiss to your lips. You pull away, blush covering your face. “Okay.. ummm” you fidget a bit and stand up for a moment after plotting, pulling Spencer up by his hands.

You take him upstairs to the bathroom for guests of the host, not the bathroom downstairs for every other partygoer, and shut the door behind you both. “Spencer!” you laugh as he softly pushes you up against the door and whines a pitiful “sorry” between the kisses he’s peppering on your neck and chest.

Your eyes instinctively flutter shut for a moment as you whisper “just for a bit.. I wanna hang out some more still…”

Spencer laughs against your neck, “yeah, sure.” You shake your head in disbelief at how cocky he is, well, rightfully is. He pulls away and tucks your hair behind your ears, eyes staring at your face. Spencer trails his hands from where they’re cupping your face slowly down your neck, tracing your skin, to where your dress scoops down on your chest. “This dress.. So perfect.” He smiles at you.

“Hmm, thank you. Thought that you might like it.” You play with his tie around his neck, untightening it just a bit. You use it as leverage to pull him towards the sink, which you are now hopping up on to take a seat. Spencer menuevers himself between your legs, wraps his hands around your waist and deepens the kiss.

Typically, it shouldn’t shock you that Spencer can get hard relatively quickly when kissing you, because you yourself are getting a little shifty with desire as the kiss continues. However, the firmness of his boner against your inner thigh makes you want to mock him for it anyway.

“Spencer! You’re hard!” You laugh and push him back a little so you can look at it. Though you enjoy embarrassing him for it, the desire you have to immediately look at it, touch it, talk about it, reveals how excited you are about it.

Spencer lets his head fall back, “I can’t help it! Please stay here a little longer.” He begs softly with a grin of amusement.

You trace your fingertips down his button up shirt and unbutton the bottom three buttons slowly, moving them to his side so you can properly graze your nails against where his happy trail begins above his pants. “I dunno…” you tease and work your hand around the outline of his dick through his trousers, a rush of air blowing out of Spencer's nose. “It sounds like they’re having a lot of fun down there.”

“I could be having a lot of fun down there!” Spencer quips, referring to his boner that's painfully twitching against his leg now.

Testing his limits, you slip away from him and jump back down to the floor, readjusting your dress. “How about you just take care of yourself baby?” You joke, expecting a huff and a petulant eye roll coming from Spencer in return.

Instead, he lets out a deep sigh immediately followed by a quiet “kay,” as he quickly unbuckles his belt, stunning you.

You stare at his ministrations, quite frantic with how desperately he’s trying to take his dick out. Spencer pulls his underwear down just enough so that he can grip himself, his leaky tip not going unnoticed with the carefully constructed bathroom mood lighting.

Spencer takes his shaky hand and carefully rubs his tip with his palm covering it, he squeezes his eyes shut in pleasure as his jaw drops.

Your jaw is also dropped as you watch your boyfriend whine with every tug he’s giving his dick. You’re stuck between staying and watching, maybe even giving this poor soul a break and helping him out, and continuing your teasing nature with getting ready to go back downstairs. You two make eye contact in the mirror.

You pull up your purse from the ground onto the sink, rummaging through it to find your lipstick. Looking in the mirror, it's all smudged off and your hair is a bit of a ruffled mess with how Spencer’s fingers were just pulling through it.

Spencer continues to work himself staring at you in the reflection. You apply your lip liner and he twists his fist around his dick, a small trail of precum dripping from his knuckles. You take out your ruddy lipstick and he grabs the counter with one hand, watching and working desperately hard to keep his eyes trained on your reflection. “Ah, my god, baby-” Spencer mumbles, the high pitched tone in his voice indicating just how unfair you’re being towards him.

You gulp, feigning apathy, and toss your hair a bit in the mirror, fixing some strands and making it look like you were not being groped in the bathroom moments prior. Giving Spencer an award winning smile in the mirror he grips the base of his dick, holding off the inevitable so he can stare a little bit longer at you in the mirror.

Reaching over beside him to grab toilet paper, ignoring how his whines escalate as your body brushes his, you put the small piece of paper between your lips, dabbing off access lipstick onto it. You look over at Spencer's pinched eyebrows and hand him the toilet paper with your lipstick stain with a chuckle.

Spencer makes a high pitched “mmn” as he grabs the paper, shaking his head at the situation, embarrassed with himself. Between his pointer and middle finger of his left hand the toilet paper is held loosely, his right hand starts moving up and down again.

Shuffling from side to side, every pass of his fist, every soft moan, makes your legs numb to the directions from your brain screaming at them to leave the room, join the festivities downstairs. “Jesus, Spence.” Your eyes travel directly to where he’s pumping himself, breaking eye contact.

“Don’t want you to go,” he mumbles again. You can tell by the way he’s talking, mumbling and hushed that he’s focused only on cumming now. “Want, uh… wanna watch you till I-”

As much as you pride yourself in being a nonchalant, charismatic tease, the way your boyfriend's bottom lip quivers and his eyes wet, you absolutely cannot bring yourself to leave his shaking frame to cum in solitude. You’re not evil!

So you scoot towards him, butt pressing against the sink again as you pull Spencer in by the tie, sucking a mark into his flushed neck. He gasps and runs his thumb over the spot below his tip that makes him see stars and cums all over the lipstick printed toilet paper you gave him. The right side of Spencer’s neck now sporting the same lipstick print.

The first time you try to help him out through this process is also a form of torture for Spencer. You push his hand aside and grip him yourself, sticky cum covering your hand immediately as he sucks in a sharp breath “I dunno..” he says through gritted teeth.

You pump him into overstimulation as he rocks his hips into and away from your fist, not knowing if he wants to accept the red hot pleasure coming from your hand right now or to hide from it. Pressing your body close to his was a mistake since now your pretty striped tights now have a suspiciously cum-looking stain on them.

“S-sorry,” Spencer feebly makes out as he catches his cum rolling down the fabric. “Shitt.” He draws out and squeezes his eyes shut in remorse and the only reaction you have is to laugh. The dramatics of his cum on your leg not impacting you as hard as Spencer, who is the one with oxytocin flowing down to his toes.

You hum softly, slow your hand down his softening length and run your clean hand through his hair, moving it from his face. “That's okay baby, feel good?” Smiling dreamily at him, he cracks his weepy eyes open with a nod.

“You actually c-cannot put that dress on again. I feel like a neanderthal.” Spencer's head falls against your shoulder.

“Huh, well you might be in luck because I’m not sure I can put this dress on again because there is a gnarly cumstain on the bottom of it now.” You tease lightly and take his jaw in your hand for a kiss.

Spencer winces and looks down, “Nuh uh! Just the tights. Cruel woman.”

The efforts you made to make yourself presentable earlier had to be repeated, alongside Spencer who you cleaned up with toilet paper and dabbed his eyes dry again. The two of you had actually missed the countdown into New Year which you are sure is because Spencer was whining too loudly for you two to hear the “3…2..1..” from voices downstairs, but most likely you two were kissing anyway, so whatever the rule is for kissing on New Years, you and Spencer rang in the New Year properly.

#spencer reid #smut #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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tojisun · 2 months ago

Text

the hand that feeds you

— “i take care of her, s’all.”

johnny mactavish x f!reader

cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words

extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i might’ve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!

being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; he’s amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. he’s not loud, per se, but there’s always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically can’t sit still through the silence which is great because you don’t fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.

you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because it’s a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasn’t going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnny’s townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and it’s great despite your skepticism. hell, it’s more than great — it’s lifesaving.

your shitty job at the bookstore really can’t cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so it’s whatever at this point. you’re about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and it’s not like you can even go back to how it was.

(underway to law school, primed up before your father’s scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasn’t really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to children’s education.

god, the disappointment in your pa’s eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)

it’s… tough.

god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you don’t hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. you’re straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everything’s gone too tight. your budget. your social life.

your dating life.

johnny often distracts you from it all — he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know it’s a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.

when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldn’t really fly back to help with the repairs.

it’s great being with him. he’s bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. like—

well, it’s all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though you’re a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you can’t help it. god, you can’t help preen at the way he exists beside you.

he’s just so… beautiful, is what it is.

rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each other’s spaces.

early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after he’s downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and how’re you. afternoons are more lively and productive; it’s of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. it’s always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.

you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like it’s expected that you’ll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural — the sky is blue, the ocean’s deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.

it’s a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know it’s all because of johnny. it’s all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.

he’s beautiful, but you’ve said that already, haven’t you? he’s just… so good to be with.

then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.

the first time it happened was shocking, really.

you had an early morning, something that’s so murky now in your memories so you’re unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.

“steady,” she’d said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.

you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.

“shh,” johnny had murmured with that wry grin. “s’just me, lass.”

your eyes danced between him and the brunette — pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist — trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasn’t seeing anyone so who—

“your girlfriend?” she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.

the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. you’d just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like you’d always been waiting for someone like him.

the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.

“oh, nah,” he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. “she’s sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, s’all.”

that’s all. you’re nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friend—

she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like she’s watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.

“pretty,” you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.

johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates — so it was a school thing — and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.

you left no sooner than his… paramour did and, for a while, that was that.

but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnny’s. he’s coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. they’re still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and you’d messaged him to say that he didn’t need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.

johnny’s face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.

“what,” you bit out, embarrassed.

“nothing,” he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldn’t. “s’fun doing things f’r you.”

then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. it’s not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.

it’s been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that it’s a thing. it’s been a wordless experience — of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, it’s his home, but he always covers things for you too. things you’re sure normal landlords don’t really worry about, but not johnny.

there’s always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. there’s even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnny’s room already has an installed air conditioning. he’s even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.

then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.

“you didn’t have to,” you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.

johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. “s’all yers, hen.”

everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?

they’re all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all you’ve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like they’re enticing johnny for one more night. and they’ve always, always, treated you like a—

like a kid.

a burden, almost, of johnny’s.

and, hell, maybe you are. johnny’s almost twice your age; he’s also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you can’t really follow but one he talks about with fondness. he’s got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because it’s got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.

you’ve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesn’t even really need but is just asking for courtesy because it’d be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. you’ve got nothing on your name, and if it isn’t pity that makes johnny care for you, then you don’t know what.

maybe his string of one-night stands are right — you are just a kid.

that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.

you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.

hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. it’s a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.

you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when it’s twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants he’s allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so he’s currently scheduled for a surgery; that he’s soft to you.

the women don’t know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they don’t know him the way i do.

it’s a pathetic whisper. it’s so laughable. so juvenile.

they’re right. they’re right.

(you’re just a—)

“i don’t see you anymore,” johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.

he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month — the longest he’s ever been away — and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because you’re sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, or—

the list of his questions grew, but you’ve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the “thing” that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.

it’s not like you’re broken or ruined or angry. god, no you aren’t.

but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.

what will johnny do if he finds out? you can’t afford a new place to move into, not when you’re so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.

so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.

jesus — move on, huh? like there was a ‘you and johnny’ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.

“i’ve been so busy, john,” you muttered, just as tired.

“yeah?” he said, still light. still jovial. “let me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.”

“i can’t.” you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. “i’ve got a meeting with the club.”

(you missed the way johnny’s smile dipped.)

“oh,” he said.

you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.

he’s looking at you with such sad eyes that it’s jarring to truly see because he’s looking at you like—

like he’s losing you.

“i’m gonna…” you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.

“yeah, f’course,” he croaked out. “take care of yerself huh, lass?”

“thanks.” the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. “see you.”

he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like something’s changed and something’s happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please don’t let him notice.

but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.

(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. you’ve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)

johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.

they’re getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when it’s pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, he’s never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.

it’s like he’s aged years and you shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way — core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. you’re so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like he’s more back in your life than he ever was.

and you know it’ll end up hurting you. that you’ll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that you’ve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnny’s out for a run. he’s made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesn’t like you back.

but johnny’s been so attentive to you these days. he’s been a hovering presence even when he looks like he’s one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, “kick ass, bon!”

he’s back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, it’s not even just dinner. you’ve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. it’s like he’s making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, you’re all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.

“yummy?” johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.

your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.

he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didn’t know what to focus on — the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, “good. that’s good.”

you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.

you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer he’s been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like you’re up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.

your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as you’re stretched thin. it felt like you’ve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.

you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.

“fuck,” you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. “fuck.”

you didn’t need this. you didn’t need any of this.

but it becomes a cycle — wash, rinse, repeat.

johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all that’s changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.

how johnny’s wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.

the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnny’s pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.

“bon–”

“i have to go,” you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.

you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.

but johnny’s burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imagined—

god, you imagined.

the way he’ll take you — beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.

you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women he’s slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they weren’t still reeking of sex and johnny’s aftershave.

(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)

“johnnyyyy!” you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that you’d regret the wrangled cry later, but you didn’t care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.

but johnny heard it anyway.

he told you that he had heard you.

it happened so quickly — one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.

“whu’?” you asked, blinking tiredly at him.

johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.

the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that you’ve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldn’t.

“johnny?” you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.

“yer too young for me, m’eudail,” johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.

and it’s—

what.

your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that he’s said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.

“i told myself i couldn’t,” he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. “that yer lookin’ for nothin’ like me, and that yer just tryin’ to get out there with yer career.”

he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.

“told myself i’ve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.”

johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own — you didn’t even realize that you’ve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasn’t really saying.

“but carin’ f’you was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.” he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.

you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like you’ve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.

“i like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing y’eat what i cooked; liked seeing y’use what i got f’you. liked watching y’come home to me. to me.”

a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didn’t even realize that you’ve curled into yourself, almost like you’re trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.

callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. “told myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard y’last night.”

you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnny’s lips danced with mirth.

“s’right. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? y’were moanin’ my name so loudly, it’s like y’left yer door open.”

“johnny, i–”

“tell me,” he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. “tell me t’stop, bon, an’ i will. but y’ve got to tell me. y’ve got to push me away.”

you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.

desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.

johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you weren’t any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.

it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.

god, you needed more.

“johnny,” you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. “johnny, need you.”

“christ,” johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. “i’ve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldn’t but yer so sweet to me and i– i wanted.” he said that word like it was dirty; like he’d been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.

it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle — his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didn’t need johnny the way you do. they didn’t look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.

but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldn’t help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle.

“i wanted t’take you – make y’all mine,” he whispered.

you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.

“please,” you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. “i can be– johnny, s’always been you. nobody else but you.”

you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.

“fuck me,” you whispered, tired of dancing around.

he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his.

you’ve never been in johnny’s room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still don’t know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere — surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.

and johnny, he smelt like home.

there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence.

your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.

you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.

johnny’s eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.

you don’t know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didn’t startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close.

“i love you,” you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?

you love him. god, you love him.

you’ve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that you’ve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. you’ve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; don’t mind the fact that he didn’t know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. you’ve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since he’s begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care.

you’ve loved him since and now—

“oh, mo graidh,” johnny breathed out. “i love you too.” he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. “gu siorraidh is gu brath.”

you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was — soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants.

you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there.

“all of me s’yers, hen,” he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones.

you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you — pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy.

you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and oh—

oh, ssss’good.

you don’t even remember how long he’d been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release.

“cum f’me, m’eudail,” johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. “let me see you.”

“johnny, i’m gonna– i’m–!” you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnny’s sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his hand’s slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.

it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnny’s everywhere — his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking.

ripping—

then, your orgasm was punched out of you.

your senses had gone awry — throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnny’s fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.

you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldn’t decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. he’d already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty — god, that wasn’t even his cock, yet — but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched.

“johnny?” you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak.

“i’m here, bon. i’m here.”

you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep.

johnny’s there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didn’t even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend.

your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, “well someone’s clearly loved.”

you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him.

they’re going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem.

you’re graduating with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but it’s the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and that’s also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and it’s like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself.

(your mom said she’s sorry that she and your pa couldn’t come, but you’ve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.

there’s a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)

you ducked into johnny’s arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet he’s holding.

“congratulations, bonnie,” he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. “christ, i’m so, so proud of you.”

you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words.

“thank you,” you reply, soft and raw, and honest.

johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as they’re pressed on your forehead.

and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out.

#suns #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish #soap x reader #cod x reader #f!reader #read tags!!

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p1astr81 · 1 month ago

Text

just a prank - op81

in which: Lando has his friends over, and while his roommate is taking a shower, they decide to play a prank on her. Oscar is the one to come to her rescue.

pairing: Oscar Piastri x Lando’s roommate!reader

warnings: uni au, fluff, bullying lowkey, use of y/n, a little objectifying, my first fic so pls don’t be rude

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧

Y/N just got off work, and she desperately needed a shower.

Wanting to become a physiotherapist, she worked part-time at a private secondary school alongside the athletic trainer to make some money while she studied at uni. She was helping one of the football athletes. He’d sprained his ankle earlier in the season, and she was having him do a few exercises to rebuild his strength in that foot.

Long story short, three boys came in asking for her to tape up their knees. Before she could say anything, one of the boys “tripped” and spilled an entire can of Red Bull down the front of her. The nice football player offered his shirt to her, but she politely declined. She’d remained in the sticky clothes for the rest of the day. And as soon as she got home, she jumped in the shower.

Conveniently, her roommate, Lando Norris, forgot to tell her that he invited a bunch of his friends over. So a quarter of the way through her shower, the shared apartment became filled with boys.

“What is taking her so long? I have to piss,” Keegan complained. Lando just shrugged. “Oh!” Carlos exclaimed, like a lightbulb just went off in his head. “Let’s play a prank on her.” He suggested. “Like turn off the lights?” Max Fewtrell asked. “Or turn off her music.” Ginge grumbled. The pop music was blasting, filling the apartment with the vocals of various pop girls.

“I was thinking more like take her clothes,” Carlos said, a mischievous tone about his voice. Lando laughed. “Just say you want to see my roommate naked, mate.”

Oscar thought they should leave her be, but he wasn’t friends with everyone in the room. Only Lando. And he didn’t want to be labeled as a kill joy, so he stayed silent.

“It’s not just me, I think everyone wants a piece of her.” Carlos defended himself, glancing at the others in the room who hesitantly nodded along—well, except for Oscar. “You’ve got your share already, haven’t you?”

Lando shook his head. “Nope, she sees me as a ‘friend’.” He shared, unamused. The room winced at the fact he’d been friendzoned. Carlos got up from the couch, and headed down the hallway where the bathroom was located.

Y/N heard the door open and groaned. “Lando how many times do I have to tell you, you have to knock before coming in.” You scolded, but instead of the usual sassy response you’d receive, it was silence. The door clicked closed, and you peaked your head out, not noticing anything different immediately.

Carlos emerged from the hallway. “Got the clothes, and the towel.” He held up the items proudly. The group of them cheered. Something inside Oscar’s stomach twisted. These aren’t the people he thought he befriended.

after around fifteen minutes, the shower water turned off, and her music followed quickly after. “Lando!” She shouted but got no reply. So she stuck her head out of the door. “Lando! Give me my stuff back!” She demanded. This time, she was met with laughter. She quickly realized it wasn’t just Lando in the apartment. Panic set in.

Her roommate seeing her without clothes on was one thing. She could live with that embarrassment. He accidentally walked in on her changing once before. But by the sounds of it, there were at least five other people out there. The status of their phones—whether they would be recording or not—was completely unknown to her.

She shut the bathroom door, and began scheming. Her first thought was the shower curtains, but the rust had fused the clips of the cheap hangers together. She could use the hand towel, but that wouldn’t cover much. Toilet paper wasn’t an option, as there was so little left in the roll that it would help just about as much as the hand towel. She was left with pleading.

She stuck her head out the door again. “Lando, come on. Just give me a bath towel at least.” All she heard was laughter. “I’ll buy you take-away for a week.” She tried to bargain. Again, only laughter. She huffed. Knowing most of Lando’s friends were pining after her, she tried to bargain with, “I’ll kiss every one of you if you just give me a towel.” There was no laughter immediately, as if they were actually considering it. It gave her a little bit of hope. But it shattered moments later as they began to laugh again.

Seeing as bargaining didn’t work, she was reduced to begging. “Lando, please.” They only laughed harder, but their laughter was soon replaced with cries of disappointment. “Mate, don’t.” “Come one man don’t be a wet blanket.” “Dude she was gonna have to come out eventually.”

Her saving grace appeared at the end of the hallway, her towel in his hands. While the hallway was dimly lit, the floppy hair on his head couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else. Oscar was always her favorite out of all Lando’s friends.

He stopped in front of her. The bathroom light illuminated his face enough for her to see his small smile. “Thank you so much.” Her words came out with a sigh of gratitude. His smile widened as he nodded, his hair flopping along with his head.

She closed the door on him, and re-emerged seconds later with the towel wrapped about her. “Oscar,” she called to the man who was stood at the end of the hall. He turned to her with a raised brow as she caught up with him. She took his arm, passing the group of booing boys on the way to her bedroom.

She brought Oscar into her room and locked the door behind them. “Oh, no. I didn’t do that to get anything in return.” He quickly said, his eyes wide. He did not want her to feel like she was obligated to give him something.

“Trust me, I know.” She smiled. “You’ve always been my favorite out of all of Lando’s friends. You’re the only polite one.” She shared while digging through her dresser for new pajamas. Carlos was still holding her other ones hostage.

“Oh, uhm, thanks.” He scratched the back of his neck. He was looking everywhere except at her. “Turn around for me.” She requested, and he quickly listened.

His cheeks went red when he heard her towel drop. He wanted to take a peak. Like the other boys, he did think you were very attractive. But unlike the other boys would have, he didn’t try to steal a glance at you. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re very good looking?” She asked.

“My grandma called me handsome once.” He shared. Her laughter rang out, the angelic sound floating right to his ears and making his head feel a little lighter. “Funny, good looking, and polite. It’s a wonder you haven’t been locked down yet.” She laughed again.

Oscar didn’t know what to say to that, so he just laughed awkwardly. “I’m sorry, I’m probably making this really weird. I just wanted to thank you.” She apologized, her voice sincere. Oscar shook his head quickly. “It’s not weird, and you don’t need to thank me.” She heard in his voice how nervous he was, and smiled softly at him. “You can turn around now, by the way.” He did, and bit back a laugh at the set of hot-pink pug pajamas she’d put on. “Don’t laugh. They’re all I have clean.” She sighed.

“‘M not laughing.” He stated, though his voice was very clearly on the verge of breaking into hysterics. He couldn’t help it, and after a few seconds let out a little chuckle. “Yeah, alright. You can get back to your friends now. Sorry for keeping you.”

“Eh,” Oscar stammered. “I’m a bit afraid to go back out there, if I’m honest.” He confessed with a nervous glance toward the door. She shrugged. “You could stay here with me. I don’t mind. I was just going to watch a few episodes of Brooklyn 99 before going to sleep.”

He hesitated. “If you truly don’t mind.” She shook her head and scooted over to make room for him in the bed next to her.

Morning arrived, and when Oscar stretched his limbs, he found himself unable to move a great part of the left side of his body. Glancing down to investigate the problem, he found y/n at it’s source. He realized he never left her room last night, and as a result, they fell asleep together.

Slowly, he sunk back into the mattress, doing his best to keep her from waking. She looks inexplicably tranquil beside him. A small smile graced her lips as her head laid on his chest. An arm of hers was draped across his torso, and she had a leg laying cross his, disabling his ability to move them freely. He didn’t mind, though. In fact, he found himself at peace.

Despite his attempt at not disturbing her, she began to stir. She blinked repeatedly, trying to wake herself up. She let out a sigh before lifting her eyelids. She looked up at Oscar through her lashes. “Oh,” she muttered, lazily pulling herself away from him. “Sorry about that.” She apologized. Oscar found her groggy voice somewhat endearing. “I suppose you should get going, then.” She stood, stretching her arms toward the sky.

Oscar nodded. “Only if you let me take you out tonight.” He didn’t know where the confidence came from, and as soon as he got the words out, he began apologizing. “I’m so sorry. I’m not normally- I didn’t mean-“

“Yes, I’ll go on a date with you.” She interrupted his fumbling, smiling warmly at him. “I’ll walk you out.”

On their way out, they passed Lando, who was toasting pop tarts. “Have a fun night?” He asked bitterly.

“Calm down, we didn’t fuck.” She rolled her eyes before adding, “If we did, you definitely would’ve heard.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He waved her off. “All the guys aren’t too fond of you now.” He told Oscar, who shrugged. “They’re not the kind of blokes I care to be friends with, anyway.” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Oh!” She hummed, facing Lando. “and you’re going to have to cook your own food tonight. We’re going out.”

Lando rolled his eyes as the toaster popped from behind him.

#f1 #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x reader #op81 #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oscar piastri x you #lando norris #oscar piastri fluff #fluff #blurb #uni au #oscar piastri au

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