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cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

Text

cherry cola ☆ op81

genre: smut, humor, yearning, tiny bit of fluff, virgin!reader, innocent!reader, experienced!oscar, sub!reader (for a while!), dom!oscar (for a while!)

word count: 8.5k

After a painful break up, Oscar finds himself head-to-head with an enticing girl, filled with pure innocence. Also known as, his parents secret weapon, and his worst temptation.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...f!receiving, fingering, brief mentions of masturbation, face riding, missionary sex, doggy style

inspired by this !

cherry here!... hellooo anons, long time, no see haha sorry for the lack of posts, but hopefully this makes up for it, somehow? formal apology for my last post too while we're at it. though this fic is inspired by cola by lana del rey, it will not have a sour ending like past fics (iykyk). missed u all, so here ya go! enjoy :)

There is an apprehensive sensation that towers over him as soon as she walks in; shy mannered, tall, and firm with a hint of hesitation—it’s something he adores about her, but also something that has him feeling jittery. Oftentimes, her lips are his most prized possession, enjoying the way they move. All except at this very moment.

Everyone notices his bitter, broken, and quiet mood despite always laying low. He’s never been one to share his problems with others, and he most definitely was not going to start now. It should be the best moment of the season—his first win—but he doesn’t have the joy to celebrate it with anyone.

Oscar’s brown eyes are low and dull; empty. He’d be a damn liar if he said he didn’t see any of this coming. If he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt and misery. Should he have been more attentive, a better boyfriend, then he wouldn’t be regretting his life choices. Dramatic, but true.

“How are you spending your summer break? Are you and Lily traveling?”

The Australian tries to scoff at the innocent inquiry beaming from his teammate, but he settles with a wince, not being able to hide it. “She, um…we broke up, actually.” He’s never been a religious individual—has never even set foot inside a church—but for the first time in his life, he prayed no more questions would be asked.

Lando raises his thick brows, clearly surprised by the sudden confession. Sure, they were a private couple—likely the most in the entire paddock—but he never saw this coming from Oscar and Lily. Though he only met her a couple of times, simply exchanging a kind greeting, he would’ve bet his entire Rolex collection that the couple were smitten with one another. “Ah, I’m sorry, mate.”

The rude sound of his race suit being zipped up harshly makes the Brit flinch in the slightest. “Don’t worry about it. That’s life, no?”

Costa Rica—they were supposed to go to Costa Rica. Instead, now, he sits alone on a flight back to his home country. He’s ecstatic to be sleeping in his childhood room with outdated posters hung of all his favorite drivers, but the feeling lingers.

Sprawled like a koala, humid t-shirt pressed against his skin, he tosses and turns for an estimate of five whole minutes. He should be enjoying the beach, sipping on highly sweetened margaritas, getting the worst tan of his life, but he’s here. The hot summer air in Melbourne makes him spit out a string of dirty curses that would send his mum into a coma.

The brunette might as well be an only child since not a single one of his three sisters were here to keep him company, ditching him with his parents. He loved them, of course he did, but a full house was his ideal way to spend his break. His home gym isn’t even enough to help him forget, even for a second.

“Dinner is ready, honey,” Nicole announces, peeking carefully through the crack of the door. She grins widely. “There’s even pavlova—your favorite.”

He forces a polite nod, shaggy hair dangling just above his eyes. “Thank you. I’ll be out in a bit.” It actually takes a sum of thirty-minutes for him to jog down the stairs, a strong scent of apple expanding from his now washed hair. His dad hums as soon as he spots the McLaren driver.

“It’s rude to leave guests waiting, Oscar,” he warns with a deep voice.

The twenty-three year old assumes it’s a lame dad joke, perhaps, so runs along with it, taking a good look around the dining room. “Won’t happen again. I showered—”

“Where would you like to place the dessert, Mrs. Piastri?” a soft voice echoes down the hallway as he turns at the unfamiliar tone. You halt, caught off guard by the new presence. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you would be here.”

“In my own home?” he finds himself squeaking involuntarily. The stern look that dances across his parents faces is enough for him to bite down on his tongue. He doesn’t even know why he said any of that—especially to a stranger.

They introduce you two quickly, though you’re just as fast as to say that you obviously knew about his existence. Do you follow my races? You shake your head, glossy hair shining. “I work for your parents, so…I sort of know. Plus, your sisters always talk highly about you when you’re gone.”

He blinks. “You work here?” Brown eyes flicker to his parents, confusion written all over. “What could she possibly do?”

“Oscar,” Nicole scolds. “I thought you left all the unnecessary questions back in junior high.”

Chris slides a large hand over her smaller one, calming her down just a tad bit. The older man sighs. “You know your mum, always looking for something new to do—”

“I wanted to grow a garden!” she squeals, delighted. “Like in all those magazines you get me for my birthday—oh, so lovely, honey. Only I realized, I don’t know anything about gardening.”

“And this lovely girl standing right here is a total natural. Her hands must be magic.” Oscar blushes hard at his dads choice of words. “She’s helping us out for the time being. Until we get back.”

The Australian's mouth opens, then snaps back shut, swallowing. “Get back from where?”

“Costa Rica!”

He gapes. “You’re using my tickets?”

Nicole winces. “Can’t let them go to waste, honey…”

His father butts in. “How is Lily by the way?”

The brunette groans, running his hands through his waves. “How should I know? Come on, you guys can’t be serious.” The tickets weren’t the problem; the fact that they were leaving was. He spots you awkwardly placing the pastry down onto the table. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Yes, of course,” you quip, glad to have a reason to flee far enough away from the premises. You turn to the Piastri’s who smile fondly at your understanding. “I’ll be out in the garden.”

As soon as you rush out, the twenty-three year old turns swiftly. “I guess I’m leaving too.”

“Don’t you dare, Oscar Jack Piastri—” He fumes. “Why not? You’re all going to be gone!”

“She won’t—you are keeping her company.” She’s not asking; she’s demanding. Staring back in shock, the McLaren driver avoids eye contact, fidgeting like a kid at their first day of school. His mum stands up, makes her way over, and pecks his soft cheek. “She’s a sweet girl. She won’t be a bother—she’s just down the hallway.”

That’s where Lily would always stay back when they first started their relationship; too afraid of making a bad impression on his parents. He found it adorable. He rolls his eyes and releases a heavy breath. “Fine.” He stares out the glass window, focusing on where you patiently sit on the wooden bench, delicate hands pressing your dress down against your thighs. “Fine...”

The following morning, his parents wake him up at the crack of dawn, bidding goodbye. It comes as a total surprise, thinking he had a few more days left with them, but no. He’s barely registering any of it before they whisper inaudible nonsense and scurry out of his bedroom.

After some debating, he changes and decides to go on a quick run. The sight of Ms. Alleck watering her burnt grass makes him smile as he sets off. It would have been easier to not get as tired if it were a slight bit chilly, but it’s blazing hot. He cuts it short, dashing back home and immediately serving himself a glass of cold water.

“You’re up early.”

The brown eyed boy jumps in sudden surprise. Standing in a pastel yellow sleeping gown, you grin brightly. Long lashes lay flat, nose pinching rosy pink, and breath minty. “Yeah, my folks sort of woke me up. Couldn’t fall back asleep.”

“Oh.” You pout. “They left already?”

“You knew?”

“Yup. They mentioned it last night before bed.” A beat. “I hope me staying here isn’t making you uncomfortable…it’s just that they offered, and—”

“It’s not.” Lie. “Make yourself at home.”

Not much is seen or heard from him for the majority of the day; occasional glaces coming here and there. They put you in an uncomfortable spot yesterday—you had been working on the garden for a year now, damn it—but their son's demeanor took you by surprise. The pictures and stories were something you relied on as the only source of getting to know him: polite, tall, and swanky—boyish.

That was so far from the truth. Oscar Piastri has grown into his body; almost appearing to be a handsome giant. Despite his warm face, his attitude is a bit snarky. He has no problem in saying what’s on his mind. And he is most definitely not a boy.

He’s a man.

“What do you say?”

“Sorry?”

He chuckles, Adam's Apple dancing up and down. “Would you like to join me for dinner?”

It wasn't his intention to try and get close to you—not purposefully, at least—but he thought; why not? Who knows when his parents are coming back, when his sisters would, and he wanted to prove to you that he wasn’t some snotty guy. Summer is summer, after all. A friend to spend it with sounds quite nice.

Pursing your red lips, you nod, setting your book aside. The dinner table is already set up. Chicken and rice. That’s it. Given, it looks and smells amazing, but plain. You quirk a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to eat your greens? To drive quicker?” He burns up at you teasing tone.

“I didn’t want to risk burning the house down. We’re lucky I was able to get even this done.”

“Very well.” The refrigerator opens, colorful veggies staring back at him. You grin, slow and easy. “I’ll take care of it. It’s only fair, roomie.”

Oscar left home a few years ago, migrating to the United Kingdom for work, so it had been a while since he had stepped foot in his backyard. He faintly remembers his pirate treehouse, his sisters’ Barbie’s cluttered inside. It was a bone-chilling sight for baby Oscar back then, but now, the paint is chipping off, the wood looks a lot weaker. It’s a nostalgic feeling.

The new additions are stunning. A bunch of healthy flowers beam back at him and he swallows when he realizes he can’t name a single one. Waxflowers, Calamint, Dahlias, Peonies, Carnations, California Poppies. One by one, he admires with an open mouth. “They’re beautiful.” He turns to you with a proud smile. “You’ve done an excellent job.”

Pink feathers onto your already blushed cheeks, biting back a cheesy grin. You had decided to eat out on the bench, choosing to enjoy the now fresh air. Still humid, but less than before. The scent of coconut sunscreen makes his whiff constantly. “So…Costa Rica?”

He winces. It was too soon to talk about the situation, but something in your calm voice makes it easier to spit it out even though you probably already heard from his parents. All of a sudden, your savory carrots taste like complete shit. “T’was supposed to go with my girlf—my ex. My ex-girlfriend.”

You pout, sorrowfully. “Oh, I’m sorry, Oscar. I didn’t mean to…I had no clue.” And it’s genuine. Guess his parents weren’t complete traitors.

“Tell me—how long have you been working on fixing the garden?”

“Since last summer,” you hum, chewing down on a piece of grilled chicken. “This is the first time I have actually stayed here, though. Your parents are sweet. As soon as they heard that you were coming back home, they insisted I kept you company.”

Sharp jaw clenches and he scoffs. You simply blink back innocently. Then, he notices it. The way it reflects against the yellow ray of the now setting sun. He knows what it is, so he doesn’t ask. Too busy staring off into the distance, you place your plate down. “Let me show you a few other things I’ve been working on.”

There’s row and row, further into the open area; every twist and turn makes his brows raise up higher, impressed by the noticeable updates. Coming to a halt, he spins his head around, brown locks hitting his temples. “Since when do we have a cherry tree?”

You beam, orbs shining with excitement. “Since last summer!” you repeat, cheerfully. You pick one, handing it for him to try. An embarrassing moan erupts once the sweet nectar slides down his throat. “Good?”

“Bloody amazing.” Every compliment makes you squeal with delight. “My mum is actually allergic to cherries, so how…”

“She was actually the one who brought it up. Said she knew how much I loved them, and that I deserved a little something for flourishing her garden. I couldn’t deny the chance to do so.” You bite down on your lip, sheepishly. “They are my favorite.”

Reaching for one makes him look away as soon as your dress rises up, soft legs poking through. Bare feet press against the wet grass as you tippy toe. He mustered a fake cough, but as soon as you bite down onto the bloody fruit, he clicks into a trance.

Plump lips; thick and juicy. Long lashes fluttering shut against your glossy cheeks. That could have been because of the summer heat, but it affected him just the same. The familiar sensation of attraction rushes to his cock as he stands stiffly—but also loosely. He was loose. So fucking loose.

Something hits his cheekbones and it rips him away from his drooling. A singular seed now lays by his feet; indicating what you had done. A crinkled, wobbly smile shines back at him, hands nervously flattening your dress back down. The Australian jokingly lunges towards you as you squeal, backing away.

“You were disintegrating! I had to get your attention one way or another!”

Oh, you definitely got his attention. Giving you one final scowl, he stops his steps. “Everything—all of it—it’s great. Thank you.” The wind picks up and you shiver. “...for doing this for my parents.”

Neat hair flies against the breeze, covering your eyes for a minute. Pushing it aside, you scrunch your nose faintly. “Anytime.”

Technically, what you’re getting paid for was to watch over the beloved yard; that’s all. But you offer to do more. Mow the lawn? Paint the chipped wall? Wash the windows?

“God no, darling,” Oscar’s mum laughs through the end of the line. “You are doing enough already. Please. Relax.”

But you can’t. Nibbling on your thumb, you brush the counter, strolling past countless family portraits. A smile slips when you spot a toothless Oscar. “I insist.”

So, here you are; decluttering the attic. After a bit of bickering with Nicole, she eventually gives in and asks for a favor. Clean and tidy the small room. Easy peasy.

“Ouch,” you hiss when a nail digs through your skin, gore immediately pouring out of you like a waterfall; you squeak. Just then, a certain brunette peeks their head through the entrance.

“Oh good, it’s you. I thought we had an intruder.”

Raising a skeptical brow at him and the thin duvet, you quickly take it from him, pressing it down to ease the bleeding. “Holy crap, are you okay?” In one motion, he steps closer to you, analyzing the injury with worried eyes. You groan.

“It’s only a little cut. No biggie.” But the way your face is slowly losing color lets him know that your words aren't true. Brown eyes flicker, searching for a spot to sit, but everything about this is crowded. You were just about to start tidying; the mess was still there. Crouching onto a tiny stool, he takes a seat, somehow still towering over you. Or at least that's what it felt like, because suddenly, you felt suffocated.

His long legs are spread as you stand between them, hand out towards him as he winces at the brutal cut. “Ah—that’s pretty deep.” He gags when he notices the underneath flesh. You suppress a giggle. “We should go to the ER.”

You scoff, ripping away from his grip, tripping over a box. Regaining your balance, you drape the cloth over your hand once again. “That won’t be necessary. I’ll be right back.”

After rinsing your hand with alcohol, covering the wound with the largest bandaid to ever exist, and balling your eyes out, you make your way back up. The Australian is drenched in sweat, huffing and puffing. “Got it,” he pants. Confused, you tilt your head to the side, but that’s when you pick out the nail in the palm of his hand. You blink, too bewildered to make sense of how he retrieved it without the help of a hammer. “I also found lots of old trophies. Extremely bittersweet.”

“Why’s that?” you hum, kneeling down next to him, reading through the labels. Each makes you more and more dazzled.

A minute passes by. “Because I grew up.”

“That’s…sad.” Shrugging, he digs for more. He laughs loudly, throwing his head back. “Dear G—I forgot this even existed!”

Oscar’s 81 Things To-Do During the Summer [List]

Learn how to bike.

Learn the Australian National Anthem (Sophie will be beautifully impressed)

Get better at being more outgoing (Mum is worried)

So on and so forth. “You were an extremely creative lad. Eighty-one things to do…eh.” A tongue click. “Possibly buy a pet dragon?”

He cringes. “Not all were realistic. I actually never really got around to it. Mainly added, if anything.”

Crimson red flashes. “I, um, I could tell.”

69. Oscar Piastri, you know what I mean.

The brunette chokes on his saliva, yanking it away as fast as he can. Standing up to his full height, he rolls up the piece of paper and points towards the exit. “I think I should, um…yeah. See ya.”

“Yeah.” He dashes off. “See you…”

Eighteen-year old Oscar was a horny bastard. But every guy that age is, so it’s not really fair to feel bad about his list. The writing is obviously his, but the things jotted down made him almost feel like it wasn’t. Blowjobs? Hand jobs? What was he thinking?

And then, there was you—a curious cat. He had to be a virgin; he just had to. Why else would he be embarrassed? You weren’t one to judge, though. You knew nothing about the sexual world, having never partaken. The thin band wrapped around your ring finger is enough proof.

And no—you weren’t married.

It would have been absolutely diabolical to mention sex in your household growing up. Being Roman Catholics is no joke, believing religiously to wait until marriage. You never had a problem with that; you would wait. Doesn’t mean you didn’t know what any of the common terms meant. Sort of.

Only now—for the first time in your life—there it was.

Temptation.

The McLaren driver was no newbie. He has had his fair share of experiences; before Lily, with Lily. He knew just about anything and everything. His good-boy act was no facade. At times he didn’t like that about himself, but it’s who he was. Obeyed the rules. Never crossed the line with anyone he wasn’t romantically linked to. And yet…

There you were.

The flowers were perfect; only needing to be watered. The cherry tree was much more…complicated. The chances of animals recklessly hunting for the sweet fruit was high, the chances of the red drupes rotting also was. Therefore, you spent most of your time there.

Maybe you were avoiding him; you told yourself you were already horrified at the dirty thoughts taking over like the plague. And perhaps he was doing the same; he had only been locked in his room for the past three hours.

Golden hour. With your hands on your hips, you squint, admire the polished drupes, tickling with water. Walking back to the bench, you lay down, picking up on your reading, occasionally taking sips from your Cherry Cola.

Pacing the small bedroom, Oscar mutters to himself. Maybe she didn’t read all of it. Maybe she doesn't know what it means. Yeah—he was exaggerating. Clicking his window open, he gasped for needed air. As soon as he spots you reading, he grunts.

White skirt brushes down your smooth legs, challenging the sun to see who shines the brightest. Lips wrap around the glass bottle, puckering in the slightest. And he wonders; would you taste as sweet as the cool beverage?

He’s a grown man; an adult. There’s no need to be uncomfortable. Sex was a part of everyone's day to day life. He was the one making it a bigger deal than it actually was. Still, he slips on a pair of sunglasses, perched perfectly onto the bridge of his nose.

“Is it any good?”

His voice makes you flinch, dropping the book flat on your face. A tiny groan rings through the air. Flashing him a weak smile, you sit up straight, fixing your clothes. “Want one? There’s plenty in the fridge.”

He had noticed, of course he had. Never in a million years did he think he'd see his refrigerator stocked up with the sweet drink. He never cared enough to ask who they belonged to; figured they would just expire.

Wavy hair swings back and forth when he shakes his head. “Gotta keep in shape.” I see, you murmur, loopy eyes peeking over at him, taking another gulp. The sizzling feeling is utterly childish compared to what he’s making you feel. The burning sensation between your legs is annoying and painful, you almost want to plead for help. “I meant the book, by the way.”

“No!” You laugh, nervously. “I mean…it’s alright?”

After he stormed off and left you a breathless puddle, you biked and biked—until you hit the local bookstore. You weren’t looking for anything in particular, simply browsing, but as soon as you reached the section of Erotic Literature, you stopped.

So many—many—wrong choices. Still, humiliated, you paid and fiercely ran out. Maybe this was some sort of punishment for reading what you’re reading; had to be. And Oscar asking questions wasn’t helping. Licking your berry lips, you swallow a thick layer. “What have you been up to?”

Fuck, he moans, large hand sliding up and down his cock; more and more pleasure intensifying. Your tiny dresses. Your short skirts. Your angelic face. The way your lips would separate before every sentence. Your sweet scent that would have normally given him a headache, but instead made him chase after you like a dog.

Finishing all over his thighs, he shudders. White liquid never looked more sinister than at this very moment. After changing, he paces the room with regret.

Pushing the frames further into his face, he hums. “Oh, you know. Just… cleaning up my room.”

It’s been a week in a half now and you’re happy to announce that you have fallen into a routine. While Oscar did his daily workout, you would make breakfast. While you worked on the garden, he cooked dinner. Though, he was unbeknownst over the way you would drool over him when he would walk out the door; a compressed shirt hugging his built body tightly, arms begging to be kissed. You were unaware of the way he would rub his face in desperation when you walked out, banging his head purposefully against the cabinet; the way you would skip out with your book and infamous drink, or how you would prettily tie up your hair before you even got started.

It was a mess.

A mocking mess.

This afternoon though, you aren’t flying out the door to the yard, but rather frolicking over to Ms. Alleck, ready to assist. I try my best, but they always wilt! Could it be the humidity? Laughing, you toss your hair up into a bun, messy strands poking out as you cock your head to the side. “Could be, but don’t you worry. We’ll find a way to make it work. Promise.”

He had always known you were kind, gentle, soft spoken…pure. And you doing this only added to his attraction. It’s salad, spaghetti, and salmon that afternoon. Sweaty, you pant. I’m going to squeeze in a shower real quick. But you weren’t sweaty, like you believe; you were glistening.

“This is so cute,” you chirp, sitting cross cross in the old treehouse. A few spider webs make your blood run cold, but he quickly took care of it, apologizing. The brunette blushes.

“I wanted to use it one last time. Before we get rid of it.” Neat brows furrow. “It’s just that it’s old—only a matter of time before it plunges down.” “What?”

“O-obviously not now!”

After a bit more convincing, you finally relax and enjoy the way the crickets sing against the night. Small feet press against the wall, white tube socks turning slightly brown from the lack of sweeping. For a moment, he shuts his lids, breaths shallow, body loose. The high temperature almost made him feel as if he was cuddling into the warmest blanket; it felt nice.

Whoops, you mumble when hollow glass pounds against the wooden floor. He perks up at the sound, brown eyes burning with high alert. “You do shit on purpose?” he screeches when he detects scarlet blood. Wincing in pain, you curl your hand towards the hem of your dress.

“Help me,” you plead, slight annoyance written all over your face. He must’ve broken the world record of running into the house to retreat the first aid kit, and running right back to you. The way he sanitizes the skin, to the way he wraps your hand with a gauze pad, is honestly hilarious.

“What so funny?” he murmurs, attention never leaving the wound.

“Mmm. Nothing.” He snickers and you giggle harder. “It just seems as if I’m making you a professional. You ought to be ready if anyone else needs your help to treat injuries.”

“Oh, of course. I’ll tell them a certain klutz made me learn from day to night with all her clumsiness.” His voice drops, laced with concern. “Seriously though—you were just healing. You have to be careful.”

Plump lips part with the sound of his delicate voice, accent almost disappearing. Wandering eyes admire the way his brows are knitted together and orbs soften. Swallowing, you nod. “I will.”

“Good.”

The once vibrant room is now hazy and suffocating. Does he not know what kind of effect he has on you? The type of power he holds? Oscar doesn’t seem to, though, with the way he chugs down his entire glass of water. Stuck in a trance, your hand briskly reaches out for your own drink. He roars with laughter, clutching his stomach. “You just broke your bottle, you don’t have a drink anymore.” He picked up the Cherry Cola you had offered, but he had declined. “Take mine.”

You don’t put up a fight, simply allow him to open and give it to you. The sweet drink doesn’t do a great job at hydrating your foaming mouth, but it helps as a distraction. On the other hand, the brunette can’t seem to not watch the ways your lips suck in and out, eagerly. As if this were the only source of air. He shudders.

“We should probably head down…”

Wiping your lips with the back of your hand, you comply, already standing up. From the floor, he has a good view of your legs; long, soft, sweetly scented. He wonders if you use honey as lotion because that would explain his urge to nuzzle his face against them. Picking up the broken glass and plates, you turn back. “Coming?”

A sigh rings through the air once, and suddenly—he’s cradling your face with high intensity and lust, molding his lips against yours. Tomato sauce stains his shirt and your dress from the plates that still remain between you two. One second, you're wide eyed, and then the next, you're allowing yourself to kiss him back.

You want to cry with how pleasant the feeling feels and he wants to scream with how much he wants to fuck you. But alas, one of you pulls away first—you can’t really tell who— and you’re both left gasping for air. Completely winded and fucked.

You both are fucked.

The treehouse comes crashing down the day after your first kiss. Yes, first kiss. You would like to blame him and say that he stole it from you, but the arousal that was dripping between your thighs last night was a clear indication that you could never actually say so because you liked it so much.

The wooden house tearing down is something you take as a sign; you’ve sinned. Okay, maybe that was a bit too dramatic, but you were honestly thinking about it. That night you dreamt of the wildest things imaginable; his pretty face in between your legs, large hands squeezing your perky breasts, fingers swirling inside your velvety walls, cock tearing you in half.

It was unacceptable.

So, while Oscar worked on picking up the tiles with a hometown buddy, you marched right over to beg for forgiveness. Kneeling down against the cushion, you say a silent prayer.

I don’t want to think like this—not when I know I can help it, but God this is getting way too out of hand. And you know I’m not like this, you know that! But he just—AGH. Maybe it’s his personality that makes him so attractive, or maybe it’s his sudden growth spurt, but please let me get a hold of myself. He’s just a friend, he’s just a friend—HE’S JUST A FRIEND.

“Would you mind keeping your words to yourself, sweetheart?” an older lady whispers, two rows ahead of you.

Pink feathers onto your cheeks. “Oh, yes, of course! I’m so sorry…”

I don’t ever ask for much, no, that’s never been necessary, but I am now. So please. Hear me when I say: Push this desire I have, far, far, far away.

If you were to say, there was a ninety percent chance that you would walk away. Not even spare him a passing glance. He would call you out on it later, but whatever—too late. Ignored you, you say? No, really I did? I had no idea, I’ll make sure to not let it happen again!

If Oscar were to say, there was a ninety-nine percent chance that he would let you walk away. He didn’t need your company; he was doing just fine. But then again, that one percent tugs at him like the devil on his shoulder.

“Hey. You’re back.” Cool. Calm. Collected.

“Oh! I suppose I am.” Cool. Utter. Mess.

He grins, eyes crinkling like the leaves that hang upon the crimson tree. Signaling up, he cocks his head in deep thought. “Just finished. Cole said his uncle could shred…” A pause. “He owns a massive wood chipper.”

Blinking like a deer in headlights, you chew on your bottom lip, simply nodding along. “Sounds good? I think. No. Yes. Very good.” You wince at all the uncontrolled mumbo-jumbo. “I’m sorry I was no help, too. I had to…talk to the man up above.”

“Eh, don’t worry about it. That must be why your pretty little knees are bruised.”

Your breath comes to a harsh halt, ears burning like a wildfire. The Australian just keeps his brown eyes set on the tree for a second longer before turning to face you. Quickly, you relax your muscles. “You could make up for it by helping me with something else.”

You gulp. Suddenly, your mouth is overflowing with hot saliva. “With what?”

Dark orbs glue onto your delicate figure, a slight smirk playing out. And it looks so unfamiliar, not his own, that you create a distance. And just like that, it’s gone. Vanished just as fast as it slipped onto his pink lips. “Get on.” He crouches down and your jaw drops.

“Wha—like onto your shoulders?” Rolling his eyes in a goofy manner, he nods, picks you up safely, and places you on top. You screech, dizzy by the sudden altitude. “Put me down!”

“You’re fine. Just help me reach those. Been craving them all day,” he murmurs, voice raspy. The twenty-three year old is still slightly sweaty from his hard labor, and that’s clear when you cling onto his brown locks. Other than that, you’re as high as a kite; both figuratively and literally.

You’ve known—seen—how tall and broad the Australian was, but being perched onto his wide shoulders was a sweet confirmation you couldn’t help but enjoy. “Move a bit forward.” He follows instructions, wide hands gripping onto your thighs to keep you steady. You giggle when a few fruits hit your face. “Watch it—and don’t you dare drop me.”

“Get,” he commands.

About three minutes pass by. You rip the cherries carefully, candy aroma filling the air, and plop them onto the basket. By all accounts, you’re well aware of your actions. The basket was full, now overflowing, really, and you could plant your ballet flats back onto the tall grass—but you don’t.

There’s something about feeling his touch; high electricity, shock waves nipping at your skin, soft pants. It’s pathetic how much you crave any ounce of physical touch he’s willing to give you, unknowingly.

“That should be good,” you whisper, meekly. He doesn’t respond, just swings you down as you let out a yelp. All of a sudden, you’re magically magnetic. And he wonders; if only. You hand the basket over, waiting nervously for him to thank you, at least.

“Thank you,” he feels himself saying. “What do you say we play a little game? No prize. Only bragging rights.”

“O-okay.”

A singular cherry is handed over. He grins. Can you tie a knot using your tongue? “Wait—are you being serious?”

The red fruit dissolves inside his mouth, spitting the seed somewhere far enough away. Then, the stem flips into his mouth. “Come on. I’ll give you a head start.”

With wary hands, you rip the stem away from your own drupe, fitting the thin stick into your suddenly dry mouth. He stares intently, clenching his jaw, “Go on. Ten seconds.” Quickly, your lips start to move, twisting and turning. Pouting, then sucking back in. Your low breaths become heavy after a few tries. You think you’re getting it done right, the sudden ball forming is enough for you to guess that you must be doing something correct.

The sound of his low mewls is what ends you. Doe eyes flicker up to face him, paying close attention to how his brown eyes wander up at the sky in concentration, occasionally squinting due to the bright sun. You can feel a thin layer of sweat hug you like a blanket as your movements slow down; a snail's pace compared to before.

For good measure, you fake your twists as you continue to simply admire. Too far gone, you blink hastily when he sticks his pink tongue out towards you, a stinking knot sitting nicely atop.

“I won.”

Gulp. “You sure did. Good job, Oscar.”

Long lashes flutter shut momentarily, head tossed back, sighing. “It wasn’t a fair fight. You weren’t doing anything. Other than staring at my lips.”

Flustered, you dig your hand into the bucket. “That’s not true! At all. At all, at all.” You munch harder, splitting a seed in half. You spit it out sourly. “You're just better at using your mouth than I am.”

It goes straight to his cock, your words. Opening his eyes, the brunette scrunches his nose. You’re avoiding his gaze. You’re good at doing that. A pro. But it leaves him to wonder some more. And that itself was dangerous when it dawned on him.

He doesn’t like daydreaming anymore.

“Fuck it,” he grunts, kissing you harshly, like the night before. And you thought that blew your mind, but this? This left you gasping and reaching out for him even though he was pressed right against you. You could feel him buzzing, pinching your hips against his large hands. It’s perfect.

You don’t really understand how you end up straddling him on the grass, green straining your knees as you grind harder onto him, forcing your skin to burn with each stroke. This—this—must be as good as it gets. There can’t be more, but you weren’t complaining. It was enough.

When his fingers dance underneath your dress, you halt, and everything comes crashing down. “No,” you pant. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Why is that, baby?” he mumbles, lost on sucking the side of your neck. Looking up, his straight brows drew in together with concern. “What is it?”

“It’s just that…I’m—” Why is it so hard to admit? Brushing a strand of hair away, you purse your lips. “I’m a virgin, Oscar. It’s odd, I know, but I can’t sleep with you.”

“You think I didn’t know that?’

You freeze. “What?”

His thumbs circle your thighs, gently, swooning with how soft you feel. “I figured you were. Your purity ring sort of gave it away.” You blush hard, rolling off of him, playing with the thin band.

“I wish I could do this—God, I really want to—but I can’t.”

Respecting your decision, he pats your hand with reassurance. The hot feeling remained between your legs and the pain between his. This was torture, you both know that, but what was there to do? It’s awkward for a while, that is, until he starts asking you about things that shouldn’t make you glow with happiness.

How was your day? I want to hear all about it. Do you think it’s bad to eat an entire bucket of drupes? Must be, right? In the long run? Hey, would you mind teaching me how to garden? You make it look intriguing.

That seems to do it for you. Everything you ever promised flies out the window as you climb back onto his thick lap, and this time, he’s surprised by your actions. Clumsy fingers try their best to unzip his pants, but he only stutters against your kisses. N-no, we don’t have to rush anything. I, you, we—

“Shit, o-okay,” he sighs when you finally touch him, even in the slightest. He may be touch deprived, but so were you, so how far would any of this go? Flipping you over to lay against the tall grass, he winks teasingly and that effectively makes your heartbeat quicken. “Relax, sweetheart. Do that for me, yeah? Can you?”

“Yes. Yes. Yes.”

The McLaren drivers press a kiss on the inside of your thighs before licking them. You shiver, though try your best to even your breaths. You shut your eyes, maybe if you act hard enough, you could somehow convince yourself that this wasn’t a war itself. To see how long you’d last. No—you would last. You had to.

“I’ve thought about it.” He slips your panties down, inch by inch. “A lot, as of lately. If you would taste just as sweet as I imagined. As sweet as those Cherry Cola’s you're overly obsessed with.” And he dives in, licking your arousal clean as you pant, chest heaving up and down like an erupting volcano.

What were you supposed to feel—relaxed? In a frenzy? Most likely the latter because considering the way he was making your head spin said it all. The sounds he’s making forces you to involuntarily shut your legs around his face and his hand that now lies between you two. The stretch is a burning sensation that leaves you both gasping and moaning; it’s too much, but not enough.

More. Grinning up from in between your legs, he shakes his head full of curls, all thanks to the Aussie weather, and your dirty foreplay. “Does it feel good?” You whimper. “Good—good, baby. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” Velvet walls clench around his long digits. “Hey, hey, look at me.”

Once your soft orbs connect to his intoxicating ones, his cock grows harder. “Okay, listen, it’s going to hurt a little bit, okay? But that’s completely normal; it’s like a…a stingy feeling. Do you understand?” I do, you pant. He grits his teeth when his calloused fingers brush against your g-spot and your head lolls back, exposing your sharp clavicle. He itches to mark you all over. “Do you want it, then?”

A zing. “Fuck, Oscar. I fucking want you.”

The brown eyed boy is all over you, kissing you up and down, gripping you tighter. It was an addiction in its truest form. For a split second, you frown when he slips out of you, but as soon as he starts unzipping his pants, you feverishly lick your lips.

It dawns on you that you aren’t scared, nervous, or anything; you’re bubbling with excitement. You watch carefully as he jerks himself off a bit, his already large girth growing bigger. How is that possible? “I’ll start with the tip.” Leaning down, he pecks your pouty lips and you smile. “Let me know if it’s too much, we’ll stop and take a break. Or do anything, really,” he adds, cheekbones flushing red.

“I’ll be okay,” you whisper. “I swear.”

You were being skinned alive, it was excruciating pain. You know he notices it when he starts brushing your hips, hoping to comfort you in some sort of way. Heavy breaths, numb lips from biting too hard, exposed breasts arching straight for him. He didn’t know whether to enjoy this or worry.

“Breathe, darling, breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. There you go,” he congratulates, admiring your shaky breath. “You’re doing so good.”

“Osc, move…please.”

There was no more confirmation necessary that you were ready to go. His hips find motion, thrusting into you slowly. Nails scratch down his back as you moan loudly, almost yelping. “Y-you’re so big.” So, so, so, so big. “So good.”

Nearly animalistic, he releases a grunt, pounding deeper into you, getting lost with the way you hug him tightly. You mewl, pressing your naked chest against his, and he nearly slips from his hands being set on top of the cold grass, but it was beautiful torture, all at once.

From the way you tremble, to the way you look up at him, he loves it all. He realized it been too long, he’s missed this, he’s missed having a body undeaneath his, as fucked up as that sounds.

And he—he must be a saint, himself. There’s a sort of invisible halo that lightens up around him, nearly blinding you. There’s a gut-wrenching stare he’s gifting you, making your stomach churn with pleasure.

Wrapping his mouth around your sore buds, you let out a shaky sigh. Skillful tongue swirls the way one would suck on a lollipop; the heat intensifies. “Close?” But you’re not sure, you just know it feels good—ridiculously good. He must have known so, and must want to make your first experience the best you’ll ever have, because suddenly, you’re on all fours.

As he slips in and out with such ease, you grip harshly at the tall grass. You can hear the sad rips with every thrust and every tug, but how can you feel bad when he feels so good? His cock rapidly brushes the magic spot, and you’re left seeing stars. “Oh God. I feel it, Oscar, fuck, fuck, fuck—”

“Tell me. Describe it.”

Your jaw locks, and your arms give up, flying down towards the grass, round ass high up in the air as he continues his movements. He groans at the sight, slapping your sweaty skin. Whining, you look back at him, grinning from ear to ear. The Australian looks up at the open sky, trying his best to push back the feeling of his upcoming orgasm, but it's hard to ignore the fact that an absolute angel takes him like no other.

And an Angel you were.

“Can feel your cock, Oscar. The way it pulses—so thick, so veiny, so sweet.”

An Angel with a vocabulary of Heathen.

“God, fuck me harder, please, Oscar, please.” He’s pretty sure you’re half-gone, half-present, but it only adds to the lust he carries for you. Just then, you feel the fresh cherry pressed up against your lips. Open, he demands and you follow straight away, ripping it from its stem. You nearly choke on the seed when he suddenly speeds up, limbs and arms burning from holding upright. For a moment, you stare back with an open mouth, admiring over the way his abs contract with every brutal push.

“Now spit.” Two seeds fly out towards the grass, laying there to taunt you as you pick up on your moans, ringing through the air. If you squint hard enough, you can spot the stars that mock the daylight sky. It doesn’t make sense, but then again, none of this does. “So pretty, sweetheart.” You swoon, feeling his arms hold you down. “Again—open.”

You’re expecting another set of cherries, thinking this might be some sort of prize, but as soon as you feel the familiar stick, you pout. No, you cry out. He chuckles. “Yes.” A pause. “You only get to come until you tie a knot.”

“You’re not being f-fair, holy shit.” Long fingers rub slowly against your puffy clit, throbbing with pain, begging to come all of his numbing girth. You clench your jaw, eyes screwed shut.

“We don’t have all night, go on. Move that pretty little mouth of yours.”

It’s a mission, it’s a task, it’s a fucking wreck. It’s impossible. You’re not that surprised, though, not when he thrusts into with twice as much force, triple speed; what a man. Loose tongue swirls at a weak attempt, but then he pinches your swollen bud, and you’re back to square one. You’re nearly there, excited to prove to him how much you wanted this and how you were able to multitask, but then he’s pulling all the way back, only his rosy tip awaiting by your entrance, and he’s coming back down, full-throttle.

It was cruel.

But two can play that game, you suppose.

You pull away quickly, he blinks, and then you’re pushing him back, sprawled on the grass. He nearly whines from missing your warm cunt, but as soon as you climb to sit on his face, he grows more and more turned on. “Go on,” you push. “Use that pretty little tongue of yours.”

Dark eyes stare up at you, enjoying the way your body moves, hips rolling, riding his face at an impressive rate. The white nectar you're willing to spill out makes him lap at an embarrassing speed, desperate to taste the sweetness.

Meanwhile, you’re gripping his hair, trying to feign indifference with the way his nose rubs against your lips, the way he keeps you in place with his watch covered hand, the other playing with your clit. It’s even, this is fair, but you still needed to reach your end.

“I’m close,” you moan, head rolling back, but jaw continuing to tick. He hums and the vibrations cause you to squeeze your legs around his face. That seems to make him enjoy this far more. Unless you show me you’ve done it, then no, you’re not coming anytime soon. Your molars grind harder, white spots forming throughout your vision. “Shut up, just—fucking stop talking.”

“What do y’know? Miss Perfection has a potty mouth.” He pokes his tongue against your hole. “Dirty girl, eh?”

With one final suck, and one soft moan, you cum all over him. The Australian is quick to lick you clean, groaning pathetically deep. Gasping, you fall from your climax, slightly twitching with sensibility as he hauls you onto his lap. You giggle when he raises a teasing brow.

“You got away with it—this time.”

“There’s going to be a second time?”

He stiffens, trying to play it cool. “Well, not anymore, you didn’t do what I asked for you to do—”

Opening your mouth, you stick your red tongue out, displaying the most perfect knot. He gapes, sticking his fingers in to retrieve it. “H-how?” A beat, sharp and accusing eyes. “Seriously, how?”

“Does it matter?” you ask, wide eyes back on for show. “I did it.”

“I…yeah, yeah you did,” he repeats in disbelief. He laughs. “You’re wickedly talented. That's an art.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, slowly, mixed with a giggle. “I tried my best for you.”

“I see that.” The brown eyed boy pinches your hip. “How was it?”

Sighing dreamily, as if napping on a cloud, your eyes twinkle. “I get it now. Why people have casual sex, I mean. It was amazing. Thank you.”

Casual, casual, casual, yes. Of course this was casual, why wouldn’t it be casual? He’s not looking to have anyone new in his life, and you’re barely understanding what any of this is, so yeah. Casual.

“Was I bad?” you ponder, chewing on your bottom lip. “I know I’m no professional, but I—”

“You were perfect,” he reassures with a soft smile. “Best thing to come around, solemnly swear.” Swatting his arm, he snickers, catching your hand. You purse your lips. “I was right,” he murmurs when his lips graze over your own. You open your mouth, waiting for more.

“About?”

“You tasting as sweet as a Cherry Cola.” Then he connects your lips, and you’re left utterly smitten. You can hardly feel him slip your ring off, but you know so when your finger feels empty since the moment you first put it on. “Guess you won’t be needing this anymore?”

“Guess not, no. Keep it.”

“Could take it to a Pawn Shop, sell it for a couple dollars…”

“Hey! Be nice, you dimwit,” you warn. “You should feel special. Stupidly special.”

“I’m kidding. I’ll cherish it.”

“Creep.”

He groans, slapping your ass as you squeal. “There’s no right or wrong answer, it seems like. Very well, let's just leave it at thanks. So…thank you for trusting me.” You blush, looking away. Awkwardly, you reach for your dress, slipping it over your head. He coughs, dressing himself before choking back a much needed chuckle. “Looks like we got dragged through the mud.”

“Ah, ew, I can’t. I need to shower.”

Reaching your end of the hallway, you press your back up against the wooden door as you sheepishly giggle when Oscar does the same. “Okay then…see you around?”

“Around town?”

“Around the house.”

“In the garden?”

“In the attic, too, maybe. It still needs a good sweep.”

He rolls his eyes. “Do we still have time?”

“Before your parents get back from Costa Rica?”

“Yes.”

“Which is in—”

“A week.”

“Which is—”

“Seven days.”

“And roughly…”

“Enough time.”

“Enough time to do what?”

He laughs, eyes crinkling suggestively, and your heart pounds hard against your ribcage. “Come here and I’ll show you.”

“Yeah,” you ponder in deep thought before your lips stretch out into a bright smile of your own. He raises dark brows as you scurry over with bruised knees, a muddy dress, and an exploding heart. “Yeah, okay. Just until they get back.”

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire@alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar @anniee-mr @nebarious

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sleepyjuice · 6 months ago

Note

Request, after fratboy!jj writes your name on his dick (with sharpie ofc like a dumbass) you help him get it off but the stimulation makes him cum

EEEEKKKKKDJ his dumbass!!!!

“Why the fuck did you use sharpie?!”

“You know, I didn’t think that part through.”

You rolled your eyes for what was probably the twentieth time in the past ten minutes as you walked back into JJ’s bedroom from the slightly disgusting frat house bathroom carrying a warm, wet washcloth with soap.

“You gotta admit, it’s hot though, right?” He grinned at you as he sat on the foot of his bed, clad only in a t-shirt and his boxers.

“Yes,” you sighed, kneeling down by JJ’s feet as you gestured for him to pull off his boxers. “But the fact that you used permanent marker is not. I don’t even think it’s gonna come all the way off.”

He obliged, pulling his boxers off and revealing his soft dick, your name big and bold along his shaft. This was such a JJ thing to do and you could tell his intentions were to make you feel special in his own JJ type of way.

“Well, just do what ya can,” he looked down at you with an endearing smile. “Totally worth it though, got you on your knees for me.” He half joked, wiggling his eyebrows.

You rolled your eyes once again, swatting his bare thigh as you grabbed his cock, feeling it immediately begin to stiffen, growing harder by the second.

You couldn’t help but blush. Regardless of the situation, the fact that you just had to get on your knees and lightly touch your boyfriend’s dick to get him hard made you feel all warm inside.

With a fake annoyed hum, you began gently rubbing the washcloth along JJ’s cock, careful to not be too rough and hurt him but using enough pressure to hopefully make some progress on removing the ink.

JJ’s stomach tightened immediately as you worked away on his dick, swallowing thickly as he attempted to keep his composure, even though at this point, he was fully hard.

“Well, I guess it is easier with you being hard…” you mumbled, staying focused on the task at hand. You really did not want to have sex with JJ while there was sharpie on his dick, so the sooner you got it off, the better.

“Mhm.” Was all he said in response, his fists clenching the sheets at his sides, his breathing becoming a bit heavier the more you rubbed his cock.

The warmth and the wetness of the washcloth was a nice enough feeling on its own, but the sight of you on your knees beneath him, brows furrowed in concentration and seemingly oblivious to the fact that he was getting off on this was bringing him close to nutting all over your hands.

And that’s exactly what happened.

“I think it’s starting to— oh!” You gasped as JJ let out a loud and shaky moan, his eyes widening as he met your shocked expression, taking you by complete surprise as he came in thick spurts all over your hands as well as the washcloth.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he panted, reaching down to cup your face. “I didn’t think— yeah… felt so good, baby, ‘m sorry.” He apologized, squeezing your cheeks lightly in his large hands, his own face slightly flushed, eyes glossy as he finished coming down from his unexpected orgasm.

You were quiet for a moment before you giggled loudly, shaking your head at your boyfriend as you wiped your hands clean with the apparent magic washcloth.

It was hard to ignore the blood that rushed to your center, thighs clenching absentmindedly as you fully realized everything that had happened. You just accidentally made him cum.

“JJ—“

“I know, I know,”

“Hey. That was hot, you’re fine, it’s okay.” You giggled again, but spoke firmly to assure him. You knew he was embarrassed and nervous he had upset you, but you weren’t upset in the slightest.

“Oh yeah?” He smirked lazily at you, his demeanor shifting once he realized you weren’t upset, rather the opposite.

“Yeah, but don’t get all cocky, you just nutted from me cleaning your dick.” You challenged, slowly standing up.

“Valid point.” he reached for your waist, pulling you onto the bed and laying you onto your back. He lowered himself onto his stomach, quickly reaching for the hem of your soft shorts and sliding them down your legs.

He positioned himself between your legs, his face inches away from your pussy as he spread your thighs, the only barrier being your quickly dampening panties.

“Let me say thank you for doing such a good job then.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank smut

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jaewritesfic · 5 months ago

Text

Melon AU Part 4

Cass is quietly adamant that her new cling-on be taken to the Batcave, no matter the concerns Bruce raises.

If he's honest, his protests fall a little flat even to his own ears. The fact of the matter is that he looks at the midnight apparition she holds and just…can't bring himself to fight very hard.

The creature clings to her like a desperate child, claws curled into her cape in a way that's bound to leave holes. Bruce hasn't caught so much as a glimpse of the face since it grabbed onto Cass, head resolutely tucked into her shoulder. That long sinuous tail is wrapped around her waist and down one leg as if the slightest disconnect could wrench them fully apart.

She was right, it's scared and it needs help.

Bruce almost thinks convincing Commissioner Gordon to lift the police barricade at the end of the alley will be the difficult part, but he's proven wrong. Gordon is more than happy to foist the situation off onto the Bat colony, it's just a matter of figuring out actual transport.

It's not that Bruce doesn't want the creature in the Batmobile. It's that nobody is sure the creature will respond well to someone other than Cass being in proximity to it.

Bruce may be feeling distinctly sympathetic, but he's still not comfortable leaving his daughter totally alone with something strange, unknown and dangerous.

He doesn't want Cass alone with it - them. They probably won't respond well to anyone but Cass being close enough to be in a car with them.

Ultimately this culminates in Bruce pulling the Batmobile around and trying to be very. Very. Quiet.

The shadow creature hasn't raised their head from Cass’s shoulder once, so hopefully as she climbs in the back with her clingy cargo they won't notice they're not alone.

…nobody is going to claim this is a good or creative plan. It's kind of just the only option they can think of.

The creature clicks and whines as she climbs in, aware and nervous about the enclosed space probably, but they don't raise their head or move.

If anything they just wind themselves around Cass a little tighter.

“Shhhh,” Cass hushes gently. “Car. Take us to safe place. I promise.”

Bruce is used to her cowl enough to be able to tell she's glancing at him in the rear view mirror.

Thankfully, the Batmobile can autopilot to the cave. His presence is solely because he refuses to leave her alone with their new…guest. That means he can sign at her.

Did you get a better look at the injuries?

She shakes her head minutely. Hm. Bruce had feared that was the answer, considering how fast the creature had plastered themselves to her.

Do they seem to be losing a lot of blood?

A tiny shrug. Not a yes, not a no. Bleeding, but not gushing. Or maybe she's not sure how much without a visual, though if it was egregious she'd feel it even with the suit.

The heat of it, the slickness.

Bruce decides the shrug is a tentative good sign.

“Let's play questions,” Cass says suddenly, hands rubbing gentle, comforting back and forth patterns against a back so dark it looks like a void. “Nothing scary. Get to know you questions.”

There's no answer, but it doesn't seem to faze her. Of course not. She's Cass.

“Will you play? Tap once yes,” she says softly, tapping the creature's back with her index finger once, “And twice for no. No is okay. You can say no.”

There's a long moment where Bruce watches them in the rear view and nothing happens. Then Cass's cowl shifts in the way that means she's smiling.

“Thank you. Pronouns first, okay? One for she-”

She taps once.

“Two for he-”

She taps twice.

“Three for- oh. Thank you. Good boy. I'm she.”

The rest of the family exposes themselves as listening, quiet murmurs and exclamations over the comms at the new knowledge that their creature considers himself male.

Bruce isn't surprised that his kids have been listening with baited breath.

“From Gotham? One for yes, two for no.”

She hums softly, going back to petting his back gently.

“Me neither at first. Home now, like the back of my hand. Can show you all the best spots. Like burgers?”

There's a long pause. Bruce suspects the creature is having a hard time believing she's talking about and proposing such casual topics.

Eventually she smiles again. “Me too. Will buy you Batburger, I promise. Nectar of the gods.”

An odd little vibration goes through her new friend, audible as well as visible. It seems almost like a weak laugh.

“....bets on shadow noodle’s favorite Batburger order?” Dick asks over comms.

Bruce purses his lips not to huff in amusement. They're almost to the cave, he'd like to stay incognito until then. He wouldn't want to alarm any shadow noodles.

Masterpost

#melon!au #cassandra cain #batfam #batman #eldritch danny #creepy danny phantom #danny: terrifying clawed shadow thing #cass: “is this a baby?”#bruce: “is this a baby?”#batfam: “is this a baby?”#damian: “give me the care instructions. we're keeping it.”

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ncroissant · 10 months ago

Text

switch! doppelgänger francis mosses x dom! gn! reader x sub! francis mosses

summary: double-teaming the real francis with doppel! francis

wc: 1.4k

content warning: nsfw, cock can be viewed as a strap, nipple play (personal fave), throat-fucking, blow jobs, hand jobs, dirty talk, doppel francis is referred to as doppel, wrist burns, tied up francis

author’s note: hellooooo my lovelies !! here is the long awaited fanfic that will hopefully satiate everyone’s preferences from the francis mosses poll yesterday (so i'm a pathalogical liar bc the way this was just sub! francis...) i plan to write many, many more sub! francis content because i cannot imagine him any other way. hope you guys enjoy this :) not proofread, minors please dni !!

“hhGHK-”

“can’t hear you that well down there, francie. speak up f’me?” you smile devlishly, tilting your head to look down at your crotch. francis knelt there with brusied knees, sucking your cock, stroking what he couldn’t fit with two hands.

another francis emerged from behind you, chuckling at his dupilcate’s pitiful state. “is that what the francis of this world is really like? a milk delivery man during the day, then a pathetic little whore who chokes on cocks back at home?” he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“c’mon, use me too. i would never whine like this while suckin’ on that…” his fingers trailed down your v-line to the base of your cock. “i’m different from this loser…” he pouted, placing his chin on your shoulder, giving you a pleading look.

“m-mmnMPFH, g-GHK!” francis moaned, the vibrations shooting through your cock. he was whiny, but that’s what turned you on the most about your desperate little boyfriend.

you chuckled, gripping at his hair to make him look up at you. “don’t forget to look at me while i fuck your throat, francy,” you instructed as he nodded as best as he could with tears pricking his eyes. the look he gave you was so priceless, his mouth stuff full with your fat cock and drool dripping down his chin.

“yeah, but my dirty boy takes my cock the best,” you praised, making doppel frown. you thrusted your cock deep into francis’ throat, hitting the back of his throat every time you made even the slightest movement.

his eyes rolled back at the thickness and length of your cock, as he exhaled through his nose heavily. he felt his hands drifting down to his bulge, humping the carpet underneath.

you noticed, finally knowing what to do with doppel. “actually, i need you to take care of my needy little boy down there…” you shot francis a glare, shaking your head in disappointment. he whimpered at the action, his eyes widening with tears immediately streaming down his cheeks.

you pulled him off your cock, his saliva connecting to the tip. “haagnh…” he mewled out, his tongue still stuck out, waiting for a sweet treat. “c-cum on my tongue, please…” he begged, placing the tip of your cock on his tongue.

“such a needy boy. always wanting more than what you’re given, huh?” you tutted, grabbing your middle of your cock to tap it roughly on his tongue. he could only moan, feeling his hips shake in anticipating.

“that’s why i have him. to help me discipline you,” you pulled at doppel’s bow to tug him closer, untying it in the process. “c’mere francie. up on my lap,” you patted your lap, holding a hand out for him to get up.

he followed suit, stumbling over his feet a bit, but ultimately sitting on your lap with his back pressed against your chest. his cock was aching in his stupidly tight pants, begging to be let free. his face flushed at the sight of a very different, yet similar version of himself in front of him.

“doppel, c’mere sit on francie’s thigh,” you motioned him over, straightface. you, on the otherhand, begun to tie francis’ wrists above his head with the tie you had previously acquired. doppel obediently followed your instructions, sitting on one of francis’ spread thighs.

“w-what’re we doing?” francis stuttered, feeling exposed despite being fully clothed.

your arms looped around his body, rubbing his nipples through the fabric of his shirt. he jolted. “just punishing you,” you smiled, giving doppel a look. he quickly caught on, unzipping francis’ pants, palming him through his underwear.

your pointer finger tickled at his sensitive nub, while the other hand pinched at his already hardened nipple. francis’ weak spot was his nipples. the way he reacted when you even grazed his nipples made you want to bend him over a bucket and squeeze them until milk came out.

“o-oooH! hnnghh…w-why through my s-shirt?” he whimpered, jutting out his wet lower lip.

you gave him no response, flicking at his buds with your nails, making his arch his back. “gHK! y-you’re too, mnGHHK, rough!” he exclaimed, his brows furrowing. you loved to twist and tug at his nipples.

it was his fault for wearing such a tight uniform shirt. he was just asking to have you toy with his neglected buds that always poked out from the slightly nudge from the shirt fabric. your hands grope his chest, fingers rubbing over them quickly.

doppel wasn’t neglecting francis’ cock either. he was playing lazily with the wet spot on francis’ underwear that leaked pre-cum. it stuck to his pointer finger when he dragged it away, making doppel chuckle at his copy’s sensitivity.

“feel good, francie? squirmin’ so much, hm?” you placed your chin on his shoulder, watching the way his lips shaped into an “o”, mewling at the way you played with his perky nipples. you’d tug on one, flicking the other one quickly.

“g-good, HNGH, o-oghhh...s-so gnhh…” he could barely get a word out, lewd noises just falling out of his lips. you stopped teasing his nipples before slowly unbuttoning his uniform shirt.

doppel wasn’t taking francis seriously, stroking at a pace he thought was slow, but inhumanely too quick for francis. “human dicks are so small. you pleasing anyone with this tiny little guy, huh?” he teased, making eye contact with francis. “oh look, more pre-cum spilled out!”

francis felt how wet his cock was getting, covered in dopel’s spit and his own pre-cum. when he thought he only had to focus on doppel, your hands came back to grope at his chest. you could now visibly see the pink plushness of his nipples.

“looks like something might come out if i squeeze hard enough, right francie?” you whispered in his ear, rolling your fingers around the bud.

“same thing on my end,” doppel chimed in, rubbing his thumb over francis’ slit.

francis shivered at the thought, feeling his high come at lightning speed. the way the tips of your fingers would flick at his nipples combined with doppel’s inhumane strokes made the poor boy explode.

“ooonghhh, ‘m c-cumming soon, mmngh! HGK! c-cumming!” he bursted into doppel’s palm, collapsing into your arms. your movement slowed slightly, but you continued to flick at the tips of his nipples.

doppel took note of this, playing with the slit of his dick, playing with the foreskin. “human stamina is so pathetic. surely you’re not done now?” doppel leaned down, lapping francis’ cum with his monstrous cum.

“UGHK? i-i jus’, hic, came…hnnn…” he cried, tears streaming down his cheeks, feeling his aching tip burn. regardless of his pleads, he still rutting his cock into doppel’s mouth for additional friction.

“show me what your pretty chest looks like now, francie,” you ordered, as he puffed out his chest for you to see properly over his chest. you hummed deciding to untie him so he could give you a real show.

his wrists were red from shaking against the restraints so you pressed chaste kisses against the burns. “that’s not how you show me, is it?” he shook his head, shaking from the way doppel was sucking his dick.

francis’ fingers stretched the skin around his nipples, properly showing you the puffiness of his teased buds. he looked up at you with his fingers strewn across his chest with a teary-eyed expression.

“such a perfect boy f’me,” you praised, ruffling his locks. “so good that you can take another hour of teasing before taking my cock, right?” you grinned, your hands finding their rightful spot on his chest.

‘e-EUGH! yesyesyes…i can take it, hngh!” he nodded furiously, his hips shaking like a dog in heat.

“good boy,” you nodded, sticking your fingers into his already open mouth. you and doppel had a long night ahead of you.

taglist: @lordragamuffin

#francis mosses #francis mosses x reader #sub francis mosses #x reader #that's not my neighbour #ncrescent

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rizzkisworld · 3 months ago

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♡°Morning Kisses♡° - Nishimura Riki

pairing: fem!reader x bf!riki | wc: 1k | genre: fluff!!!

note: birthday fic for my lovely friend @yuniniverse !!!! (suprise for the other birthday girl later!!)

It was early in the morning, the soft glow of the sun beginning to creep through the curtains, casting a gentle light across the room. As you slowly awakened, the comforting rhythm of your boyfriend's soft breaths filled the air beside you.

His hair was tousled and messy, falling over his eyes, yet he still appeared breathtakingly beautiful in the muted morning light. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, captivated by the way his lips slightly parted as he slept, a peaceful expression resting on his face.

Turning your attention away from the sleeping figure beside you, you knew you needed to get up to prepare for classes. The thought of school weighed heavily on your mind because let’s be honest, it was a literal pain as usual. The endless assignments and early mornings felt overwhelming.

Yet, as you glanced back at your boyfriend, you remembered the way he always supported you, offering those sweet words that always made the tough days a little more manageable. It's something about his presence that always helped you through the tough times.

Anyways, the hardest part about getting ready was always the fact that Riki had a tight grip on you, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. Every morning, you’d find yourselves tangled in the sheets, wrapped in each other’s warmth, and it was hard to resist the comfort of his embrace.

His arms felt safe, and the way he held you securely made it nearly impossible to break free without a hint of reluctance. You loved his cuddles, but right now, his grip was keeping you from moving in the slightest.

Slowly, you tried to gently remove Riki’s arms from around your waist, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. But as soon as you shifted, he instinctively pulled your body impossibly closer, as if he sensed your intention.

His warm breath tickled your exposed neck, sending delightful shivers racing down your spine, igniting a mix of warmth and frustration. “Baby.” you mumbled, caught in the soft haze of sleep and affection, unsure if you were trying to wake him up or simply savoring the sweetness of saying his name.

At this point, you knew the only way to get him to let go was to wake him up. “Riki.” You raised your voice just a tad, infusing it with a tone that was stern enough to hopefully wake him from his dreams.

Nothing happens. You call his name a few more times, hoping he wakes up. Finally, on the eighth call, he's awake, his eyes blinking slowly open. “Good morning, baby… what’s wrong?” he murmurs, his voice a delicious mix of sleepiness and depth that sends a flutter through you.

“I need to get ready for school. Can you let me go?” You turn your head just enough to catch a glimpse of his face. He takes a moment to process your words before he responds.

“I don’t know… can I?” he teases, a playful smirk forming on his lips as he notices your annoyed expression. A soft chuckle escapes him, adding to your annoyance. “Will you let me go?” You correct your grammar with a roll of your eyes, but the smile tugging at your lips betrays you.

“You know I can’t do that,” he replies with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then, as if to seal his playful defiance, Riki leans in, placing a tender kiss on your neck and trailing soft, lingering kisses up to your cheek. Each gentle press of his lips sends a wave of warmth through you, making it even harder to leave his embrace.

Each kiss was intimate, making you crave more and more of his lips on your skin. “Hm? Cat got your tongue?” Riki whispers playfully in your ear, his breath sending delightful shivers down your spine when he notices the silence that follows his teasing. You gather yourself, remembering what's important right now.

“I really need to get ready, though,” you say, pouting, knowing the effect that has on him. You know he can’t resist your cuteness, how every little gesture draws him in further. His eyes sparkle with affection as he takes in your beauty and you relish the way his gaze softens, knowing that you hold his heart in the palm of your hand.

“Okay, but under one condition,” Riki says, a playful spark lighting up his eyes. He caresses your cheek with a tenderness that makes your heart flutter, his fingers warm against your skin, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. With a gentle yet firm motion, he turns your entire body to face him, his gaze holding yours with intensity that sends your pulse racing.

He cradles your chin softly, ensuring you can’t look away, his touch both reassuring and intimate. “I need my morning kisses,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, filled with a playful urgency. Before you can even process his words, he leans in, closing the distance between you, and presses his lips against yours.

The kiss is soft and tender, yet it carries a hint of longing, as if each moment shared is a cherished secret. As he mumbles softly into the kiss, your only focus becomes him. The thought of school fades away as you gladly melt into the kiss.

Your lips collided with his, warmth coursing through your body. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. One of his hands found its way to your face, gently cupping your cheek, while the other stayed around your waist, making sure you had no chance of escaping.

The sensation of his soft pink lips on yours was intoxicating, a perfect blend of sweetness and flirtatiousness that felt as if the world around you had melted away. You were too far gone to care about the morning breath, all you wanted was him.

He broke the kiss, trailing soft, lingering kisses down your jawline and then to your neck, each touch igniting a cascade of warmth inside you. When he looked back into your eyes, a tender smile graced his lips, illuminating the morning with an undeniable glow.

"I love you so much, pretty," he murmured, his voice a gentle caress that wrapped around you like a warm blanket. He leaned in for one last sweet kiss, his lips brushing against yours with a softness that lingered long after he pulled away.

"I love you too," you whispered, your eyes locked with his, feeling as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you in that moment. "Have a great day, my love," he replied, the warmth of his gaze enveloping you, leaving you motivated to go on with your day.

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sammyluvr · 2 months ago

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broken, fine for tonight — sam & dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, some angst, reader's the youngest sibling, injury/pain, nicknames (kid, bud, sweetheart), 1.3K words. requested !

summary : you break your ankle but your older brother's are convinced it's just a sprain and leave to finish up a hunt.

dean sounds all gruff and almost annoyed when he says you’ll have to stay in the motel while they take down this nest of vamps. “you’ll be no help with a jacked up ankle,” he grumbles, because it’d be easier with three than two. but his eyes are a little soft as they flick down to your injury and you know it’s just because he’s no good at dealing with being worried about you.

sam comes back from the bathroom, giving you a sympathetic smile as he sets another pair of pain pills on the bedside table next to your half empty plastic water bottle. “you’re good to take these in half an hour,” he says, “and we’ll grab you a proper brace on the way back, alright?”

you give him a tight smile, your breathing measured so it doesn’t come across as labored. “sure,” you agree, still fighting against the pain in your foot in order to appear as composed as you’re expected to be. when you twisted it earlier today, sam and dean brushed it off as a sprain and haven’t stopped to think otherwise since then.

dean had hauled you back up with strong hands and a comforting pat to your back. you’re alright, he insisted, ‘s just a little sprain, you’ve dealt with worse. he wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but you’ve felt a sprain before, and you’re sure that this is worse.

it must be a pretty bad sprain, sam said with a soft frown when you let out a pained gasp after trying to put just the slightest bit of pressure on it. he looped your other arm around his shoulders, and the two of them practically carried you back to the motel room. they set you down on the bed, and you know that sam normally would’ve checked your ankle with a bit more precision and care most days, but you’re all pretty sure that the vamps have caught on to you, which means the faster they get into the nest, the better. so he simply propped your foot up on all the spare pillows in the room with gentle hands, cringing each time the movement made you wince in pain. he wrapped it in an ace bandage, and you nearly cried out loud as he did. mind otherwise occupied, he’d just told you the pain would fade soon enough.

you think that somewhere in the back of their minds, both of your brothers know that you’re in enough pain to understand that this is worse than they want it to be. their concern is easy to read, but sometimes they hate the prospect of you being hurt so much that they’ll focus that energy onto a different problem until they have to face this one. so they’re out the door before you know it.

hopefully they’ll give you a longer look when they get back. you’d very much like to go to the hospital to get checked out and hopefully return to the motel with a cast and pair of crutches.

the pain only gets worse and the minutes just drag. time flows so slowly that you start to worry, just like you do every time they’re off on a hunt without you. if they’ve been gone this long, something must’ve gone wrong, right? you check the time and realize it’s been less than a full hour. the ibuprofen you took a bit ago does nothing to help.

your ankle hurts so badly that you’re teary and sniffly and even though no one’s here to witness it, you’re embarrassed by it nonetheless. but you might as well get the tears out of the way before they come back.

you’re convinced that it’s broken, and by the time the headlights of the impala shine through the half-closed blinds of the motel, you’re in too much of a haze to notice the door unlocking and the boys tramping into the room.

sam’s through the door first, and the second he lays eyes on you, he knows something’s not quite right. he says your name, soft of course, but still loud enough for you to hear. you don’t look over, and he drops his bag on the floor to rush over. dean immediately picks up on the tone of sam’s voice, following close behind.

sam’s big hand on your forehead rouses you. “hey. you with us sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice quiet and clearly concerned. your eyes flutter open and the only thing you can think to do when you register the worry on his face is give him a rueful smile.

“i think it’s broken,” you mumble, voice quiet and tired. you’re somehow numb and still hurting so much at the same time. dean gives a little scoff, more so out of affection than frustration, and rounds the bed to look at your ankle. you wince when he moves it, this time not bothering to hide just how much it really hurts.

“you think?” dean repeats back to you, “jesus, kid, why didn’t you say something before?”

“you didn’t give me a chance,” you retort, frowning deeply but too tired to actually sound upset. “you both said it was sprained.” before dean can make some comment about how it’s your ankle, not theirs so how would they know, sam intervenes.

“we’re sorry, bud,” he murmurs, “we should’ve paid you more attention.” you don’t see the pointed look he gives dean not to argue with you right now, or the way dean puts his hands up in frustration, then softens when he looks back at you. he knows that sam’s right, it’s not fair to get all snarky with you. he’s just fueled by worry and he forgets that his worry very easily turns to anger and irritability. dean’s not upset with you at all, but he is at himself for not noticing just how badly you were injured.

the way that he gently carries you to the back seat of the impala is his apology, plus the promise to find your favorite food after you get checked out from the hospital. sam sits in the back with you to keep you steady. steady and held. his hand holds your head softly, his other keeping your leg still as the car rumbles down along the road.

tonight, everything will be fine. your ankle will heal and once properly treated, it’s true that the pain will fade. sure, they won’t pay the medical bills with real credit cards and the doctor might be impressed or concerned, or both, by your pain tolerance. because this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve been cooped up in the back seat of the impala, hurting and maybe even a little scared while sam holds you and dean drives.

he always steals glances back at you through the rearview mirror, making eye contact with sam to be sure you’re awake and well. but he has to be the one driving because he feels like that’s the only thing he has control of when you’re like this. he just absolutely horrified by the thought that there might be a dark night on empty roads after a hunt or a nearly world-ending event where his can’t drive fast enough. what if, someday, you die in his car and your blood stains the leather, because how could he wipe your blood from the seats like that?

and sam’s the one who’ll be holding you, staunching your blood with his jacket, whispering assurances that you’ll be alright. he’s terrified by the thought that there might be a night where, in the backseat of this car, the place you all silently call home, you’ll die in his arms.

those are the sorts of things they think about. they know that you think about your own nightmares of them dying too. but in this life, the only thing you can do is tuck those thoughts away, somewhere deep and hidden, because tonight, everything will be fine.

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lucyrose191 · 11 months ago

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Hey could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader where she's been feeling unwell but insists she's coming to the track and he's worried about her. Long short story, their son (Jack) with her and she felt like she's going to go faint and she tell Jack to find Toto for her and Toto's being her knight in shining armor,rescued her. Just fluff and comfort. Tag me later. Thanks! :))

TAKE IT EASY| T.WOLFF

Pairing; Toto Wolff x Wife!reader

Summary; Your stubbornness to admit you may be feeling unwell might just be your downfall one day but your husband will always be there to catch you, as will your son.

Warnings; none

F1 Master List

You could feel the worried gaze of your husband from where he was standing in the en-suite getting dressed, he had woken up before you this morning which was his first notification that something was wrong but once he saw your flushed cheeks and pressed the back of his hand against your forehead he knew you certainly weren’t well.

He had tried to convince you to go back to bed but you refused, you were here to support him and Jack was so excited to attend a race again and whilst Toto was more than capable of looking after him, it was just easier for you to take care of Jack and entertain him because Toto still had work to do, a toddler didn’t just want to sit in the garage and wait for their father to finish a bunch of things before having fun.

So you insisted that you were fine and were adamant on going to the track, ignoring the churning of your stomach, fogginess in your mind and how weak your body felt.

Toto wasn’t happy with your decision at all, your health was so much more important to him than any race that he had brought up not going himself but you had shot down that idea before he could even finish his sentence.

So he relented.

You were now on your way to the track, the car wasn’t doing anything good for your stomach, leaving you to lean your head against the window with your eyes closed as you took deep breaths through your nose.

What was meant to be the comforting touch of your husband rubbing his hand back and forth across your thigh wasn’t helping with the nausea you felt either because all you could think about was how similar the touch was to him rubbing his hand up and down your back as you threw up.

Jack was in the back babbling nonstop about how excited he was to see Lewis again and hopefully sit in the car and you loved your son so much but your head was so fuzzy that everything he was saying you were hearing three times and you couldn’t think straight.

"Mama?" His small voice called out and you could perfectly hear the undertone of excitement.

"Yeah, darling?" You slowly turned around in your seat so you could look at him, mustering up the biggest smile you could for him.

"Can we see Charles and Carlos, today?" He asked, face filled with hope.

"We can do whatever you want to do but remember they’ll be very busy preparing for the race so they might not have time to speak with you."

"Okay, and can we see Bono?" He asked.

"Yes," you smiled weakly.

"And Mick?"

"If you want to, yes."

"And Lando and Oscar too?"

"We’ll do whatever you want to do Jack."

"Well I want food before we see Lando," he said strong cause you to laugh.

"Yeah, we mustn’t forget about that," you agreed before turning back in your seat. Of all the days for your son to be riddled with energy, today was not really ideal but you suppose that’s what comes with being a parent.

You rested your head back against the window, looking out at the streets you passed, reaching out blindly your clasped your hand with Toto’s that hadn’t removed from its position on your leg, hoping his touch could help you feel even the slightest bit better.

Toto released a deep breath as he turned off the car and turned to look at you. You hadn’t even registered that you had arrived at the track, still staring out the window in a daze. "It’s not too late to turn around and go back to the hotel, we can go back to bed." He spoke up quietly, not wanting to startle her.

You shook your head and turned to him with a smile, "I’ll be fine, come on, jack’s getting antsy," you responded, hearing your son trying and failing to unfasten his seatbelt.

Your husband huffed in defeat and reluctantly got out the car, opening the door behind his to let Jack out, you heard him entertain his childish rambling and as soon as the door shut you took a second to take a deep breath before getting out yourself.

"Mummy’s not feeling today so it’s up to you to take care of her okay?" Toto whispered to his son, who was resting on his hip, so you couldn’t hear.

Jack frowned and looked to his father in concern for you. "She’s poorly?"

Toto nodded "She’s doesn’t feel well, are you going to keep an eye on her for me?" Jack nodded with a determined look on his face before wriggling for Toto to put him down.

"Mummy!" He ran around the car as soon as his feet his the ground so he could get to you.

"Yeah, baby?" You crouched down, surprised when he wrapped his arms around your neck in a hug.

"I don’t want to see Charles, Carlos or Lando today, can we just get food and stay in Papa’s office and watch the race from the garage?" He asked.

You looked at him in confusion at his sudden change, he was beyond excited earlier and whilst you were relieved at the change in what he wanted, you were surprised at how abruptly he didn’t want to go and see the other drivers anymore.

"Are you sure that’s what you want?" You asked, skeptical as he nodded confidently but you reluctantly agreed.

"Okay then," you grabbed his hand and Toto grabbed his other as the three of you made your way into the track, you ignored the worried eyes of your husband that kept flickering to you every few seconds, the pair of you ignored the fans and shouts of media reporters as you weren’t in the mood to feign happiness and Toto was just far too concerned about you.

You had hoped that as day went by you would start to feel better but if anything you felt worse, you had went to hospitality with Jack to get some food to take back to Toto’s office but the mixture of smells had sent you spiralling and you tried to get out of there as quick as possible.

You and Jack had been in Toto’s office for about an hour and you hadn’t seen your husband in about two.

Jack was being on his best behaviour though, you don’t know where his change in what he wanted to do today came from but he seemed content sitting on the floor with his snacks and watching the live recording of the track on your phone.

You had sat yourself down on Toto’s chair to try and relax a bit but your head was spinning so much and your vision was starting to blur.

"Jack?" You called out weakly, you had tried to sound as though everything was okay as to not worry him but it didn’t work that well.

"Mama?" Jack pulled himself up to his feet immediately, live broadcast long forgotten as he saw his mother even paler than you had been this morning and leaning against his father’s desk, a thin layer of perspiration on your skin.

"Can you go get Papa for me? Tell him I need him quickly." You told him, trying to smile at him but your body didn’t even have the energy for that.

Jack didn’t need to be told twice, he turned around and ran to find Toto, opening the door with so much force that it banged against the wall before closing half way again.

"Papa!"

The Mercedes team all looked away from what they were doing and turned towards the sound of Jack’s panicked voice followed by the sight of him running through the garage with a petrified look on his face, searching for his dad.

"Papa!" He pretty much screamed, fear overtaking his body knowing that something was really wrong with his mother right now and you were alone and he couldn’t find his father.

The Mercedes team were worried beyond belief as they took in just how scared Jack was and how desperate he sounded for Toto who wasn’t in the garage at the moment.

"Jack?" Lewis slowly approached the boy who was stood in the middle of the garage, looking all around him, tears welling up in his eyes when he couldn’t see his dad.

He looked at Lewis frantically. "Where’s Papa?" He demanded.

"I think he’s speaking to someone right now, are you okay?" Lewis crouched down in front of him.

Jack shook his head aggressively, "I need Papa, Mama needs him quickly!"

"Where’s your mama?" Lewis asked as worry filled him. "Show me where she is, maybe I can help her?"

But Jack shook his head "no, she needs Papa, she told me to get him quickly."

Lewis sighed but nodded, a bad feeling was settling have in his chest for you. "Okay, you stay right here and don’t move and I’m going to go and get your dad, okay?"

"You need to be quick!" Jack told him desperately.

"I’ll be as quick as I can." Lewis told him, giving a look to the team to keep an eye on him before turning and quite literally running out of the garage.

People stopped and watched in confusion as they saw Lewis Hamilton running through the pits, looking around frantically for someone.

It didn’t take him long to see Toto sticking out from the crowd, in the middle of an interview with Martin Brundle, he didn’t care that it was live and brutally interrupted the pair of them, grabbing Toto’s arm. "You need to come with me, now. It’s important."

Seeing the serious look in his driver’s eyes, a million scenarios swirled around in Toto’s mind. He didn’t even excuse himself from Martin knowing that Lewis wouldn’t just crash his interview for no reason.

What took him back more was the fact that his driver had started running back into the direction of their garage and Toto didn’t hesitate to follow.

He couldn’t imagine how this looked, Lewis running through the paddock frantically, crashing Toto’s live interview and the pair of them running back.

"What is wrong?" He huffed as they weaved in and out of the masses of people crowding in the pits.

Lewis kept his voice down as he explained, not wanting this to hit the internet from someone overhearing. "I have no idea, Jack was screaming in the middle of the garage, looking for you. He said Y/N needed you quickly so I tried to get him to tell me where she was but he wouldn’t, said she told him to get you as quick as he could, he looked terrified."

A deep sickening feeling settled into the pit of Toto’s stomach as he quickened his pace, he knew you weren’t well today and the multiple scenarios of what could possibly have happened scared him.

"Papa!" Jack yelled as soon as he saw his father enter the garage, running straight for Toto and diving into his legs. "Quickly! Mama said she needs you."

Toto picked Jack up and looked him in the eye. "You stay here with Lewis, okay? I’m going to go see Mama."

Jack nodded, suddenly a lot more calm now that his dad was here and didn’t complain when he was passed off to Lewis.

Toto quickly made his way to his office and as soon as he stood in the threshold of the doorway, his heart fell to his stomach as he lay his eyes upon you, unconscious on the floor by his desk.

He was by your side in a second, kneeling next to you as he rolled you onto your side and moved your hair from your face.

"Liebe?" He gently tapped the side of your face, trying to coerce you out of unconsciousness.

At no response, he pressed the back of his hand against your forehead, grimacing at the amount of heat he felt radiating from your body. Looking around his office, he saw a glass of ice water sitting on his desk, he grabbed the glass and dipped his hand inside before pressing it back against your forehead, hoping it would cool you down a bit.

"Schatz?" He tried to wake you again, this time successful as he heard a slight change in your breathing and saw your eyes moving beneath your lids.

"Y/N, you’re okay, take it easy." He continued speaking to try and coerce you more awake, smiling when he saw your eyes open.

You were confused to see your husband hovering above you, your mind was foggy and your body felt so heavy you couldn’t move your limbs.

Looking around, you found that you were lying on the floor causing your face to contort into confusion.

Turning back to Toto, you blinked up at him and upon seeing the questioning look on your face, he explained. "You fainted, and gave Jack quite the fright too."

Hearing Jack’s name, your body filled with worry and you tried to sit up but Toto’s hands on your shoulders encouraged you to lay back down. "He’s fine, he’s with Lewis."

"Need a drink," you told him causing him to look at the glass on the edge of his desk.

"I’ll get you a new one, I put my hand in that one to try and cool you down," he told you.

You shook your head, "it’s fine," you held out your hand for him to just give you the one on the desk, not really wanting him to leave at the minute.

Toto brought the glass to your lips, insisting on hosing it for you since your hands were shaky and he didn’t want you spilling it all over yourself. "Have you had anything to eat?"

You shook your head, the idea of food earlier had knocked you funny but you know you should probably eat something.

"I’ll get someone from hospitality to make you some toast," he told you, not really giving you the opportunity to refuse, not that you would have anyways. "Do you feel better now?"

"Yeah, thank you." you replied, sitting yourself up to lean against his desk. It was as though passing out was what your body needed to recover because the fuzziness in your head had faded away, the hot flush all over your body was gone and your stomach was no longer churning anymore, it just felt empty.

"We should’ve stayed at the hotel," Toto repeated for what felt like the hundredth time today and you couldn’t even argue with him this time. "I know," you responded.

"Do you want to stay in here and rest while the race is happening? I can keep Jack with me."

You shook your head, "No, I want to watch it out there; I’ll be fine."

Toto sighed but nodded.

"Mama!" Jack ran away from Lewis and towards you as soon as he saw you and Toto leave his office, you smiled widely and crouched down for him to run into your arms despite Toto’s protests, knowing you still felt a bit weak.

"Hi, baby," you wrapped your arms around him tightly and rubbed a hand up and down his back.

"I got Papa just like you said," he spoke into your shoulder.

"I know, you did such a good job," you told him proudly.

Toto insisted that you stay near him whilst the race was happening, not willing for you to leave his sight incase anything else happened so you curled up on a chair beside him with Jack on your lap, the boy also not wanting to be far from you, with Toto’s large coat draped over the pair of you.

A plate of toast and a glass of water had been set in front of you next to the monitors and there was no way you could stomach all four slices so you and Jack split it.

The media had their speculations as to why Toto and Lewis had been rushing through the paddock but once they saw you snuggled up on the chair beside Toto, still very pale, they could guess what happened but they thought it was adorable seeing how the man would constantly glance away from the monitor to you and Jack to ensure you were okay, his hand stroking your hair away from your face every few minutes.

#formula one #motorsport #formula one x reader #f1 fanfiction #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #fluff #toto wolff x y/n #toto wolff x oc #toto wolff fanfic #toto wolff x you #toto wolff imagine #toto wolff fanfiction #toto wolff #toto wolff fluff #toto wolff x reader

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asapeveryday · 7 months ago

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FANTASY - K.TOBIO

Pairing: (time skip)Kageyama Tobio x Reader

Warnings: sexual fantasies :)

Summary: you’d had a crush on tobio through most of high school, he was your friend and he was cute, so it was only natural. When he sends you a ticket to his game on japan’s official team, that crush is reawakened in a far more mature way.

A/n: I’m gonna be spouting out sum haikyu stuff hopefully 🙏

RED IS A COLOUR you’re not quite accustomed to seeing him in.

It was only a year ago when he was adorned in the beloved navy and orange uniform, a bold number nine spread on his back where a new shiny number twenty now occupies.

Everyone changes in that first year after high school, but seeing Tobio again in person only makes it more apparent. His already broad shoulders have broadened, his arms as built as you remember if not more. His hair still short and sleek, a deep black that accentuates the blue abyss that is his eyes.

You can recall all the times you’d lost yourself, drowned in the sight of his face and his unwavering stare. Of course he never though much of it, dismissing your gaze as being zoned out. You were lucky he was so oblivious of his attractive appearance at that time, because you were nothing short of smitten.

You didn’t particularly care for volleyball unless he was playing. He has a way of engulfing everything in the game, you’ve never seen him so in tune with himself and his surroundings as you have on the court. You forgot how demanding his presence is, even on a team of amazing players he still drew attention.

The look on his face, eyes trained on the ball, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, eyebrow’s slightly furrowed, red fabric hugging his athletic body just right. It sends an embarrassing shiver through your body that you haven’t experienced since graduating from Karasuno.

It’s his turn to serve and his expression is focused as ever, posture alert and fingers spinning the ball with ease. You can’t help but lock your eyes onto his hands, toying with the volleyball as his chest expands and deflates with every fleeting breath.

The ball is in the air, and his palm makes contact powerful as a spark of electricity.

BAM.

The noise is terrifying, echoing through the whole stadium. the way the ball hits the other side of the court within bounds as Japan’s side of the stands erupt with screams of triumph is cinematic. You find yourself joining the yells of joy, smiling at the sight of Tobio loosening up, a slight smirk gracing his face as he nods at his teammates.

‘God.’ You think. ‘I feel like I’m a kid again, watching him play.’

When he sends another earthshaking serve across the court you can’t help but press your legs together. ‘No,’ you think again. ‘This is different. I feel different.’

He’s ready to really start playing now, jaw in the air and teeth bared into a dangerous grin that you just barely saw during high school. The way his arms flex with every pass, the way his fingers nimbly send the ball to his teammates or over the net, the way his toned thighs tense with every crouch to receive the ball. It just might send you over the edge, sparking thoughts that almost never graced your mind during your friendship with him.

You can see it; his hands caging you in as he hovers above you, careful not to lean his weight onto your body. You can imagine the sensation of his knee in between your legs as he tenderly kisses your lips. Tobio never cared for girls in high school, but you can imagine that a year of playing pro has widened his experience in various ways. Still, you can’t see the boy being rough with you, not when he’d sneak you notes in class or apologize for even touching you in the slightest.

Unless in one of his bad moods, you can see Kageyama Tobio being sweet. Though his length may touch places you could only dream of reaching, pumping in and out of you with the power and stamina he’s worked so hard for these past years, you know he’d kiss you like you were his first love, like he depends on the air you exhale.

“Missed you s’much.” He’d utter under against your neck, painting your skin pink and purple and his hips buck into your heat fervently. “I’ve wanted you for so long.” He’d say, and you’d mewl in response, wanting to tell him about how you longed for his focus on you since you were a first year in high school but unable to form the words.

Still, you’d like to imagine he’d know, that you wouldn’t have to tell him about how much you looked forward to his games, to staying back late after school and throwing balls for him and Hinata, to sitting with him at lunch and attempting to tutor him before giving up and going for a walk with him instead. You relished your conversations with the blue eyed boy, he was straight forward and honest. He knew exactly what he wanted out of his life at the time, and you secretly hoped you were included in that.

You couldn’t think of him this way back then, it felt wrong seeing as he trusted you so innocently as a friend and nothing more. Everything was different now. You can see it clear as day from your spot on the stands.

This Tobio, the one currently staring down a player on the opposite side of the net. He wouldn’t mind how the sight of his face coats your underwear with arousal, he wouldn’t care if you pressed yourself against him.

The thought of him spreading you open in that intricate nature of his, deep blue eyes staring up at you as his tongue explores between your legs, nipping at the soft flesh of your inner thighs before delving and devoting himself to your core.

When Kageyama committed to something, he did so to the fullest of his ability. Should he decide you’re worthy of climaxing at his hands, you’re sure he’d make sure it’s the best climax of your life.

You can’t help but bite your lip and pinch your thigh at the idea. It’s shameful how you’re staring at him straight on while fantasizing about cumming in his mouth or all over his dick, but it also adds a rush of adrenaline.

You finally shake the thoughts off when the final point is earned, Japan winning their first game of the Olympic Season. The stands erupt in celebration, you scream and laugh with the strangers by you as if you’re old friends. When your eyes part from the people seated beside you and find the court, you almost freeze at the sight that meets you.

He’s found you in the crowd, presumably remembering the exact ticket he bought you. Despite this newer, more adult version of Tobio initially shocking you, with one look at his face you know one thing hasn’t changed.

He’s still your friend, and his still thinks about you.

Tobio smiles almost nervously when your eyes lock on his, and he subtlety nods towards you. It’s enough to make your heart melt, and enough to fuel fantasies for a lifetime.

#fanfiction #fanfic #haikyuu tobio #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #x reader #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #haikyu smut #haikyu x reader #hq tobio #hq #hq x reader #hq smut #smut

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gay-dorito-dust · 1 year ago

Note

Domestic fluffy things you say? I’m here to hopefully help with that!

Can we get some cuddling hcs with the Lin Kuei trio? For example are they big on cuddling, favorite cuddle position, how is it like cuddling with them, ext. Just a lil idea I had and thought was cute and simple and classic also I hope you have a better day :)

Tomas Vrbada

Is MASSIVE on cuddling.

He loves it, lives for it, craves it. Cuddling to Tomas is therapeutic and gets his mind off of things that would normally disrupt his ability to get proper sleep.

It helps ground him and redirects his mind to focus on you and how your presence gives him comfort, reassured him of his insecurities and daily stresses, bringing him into a more relaxed state.

His top 3 would have to be;

Honeymoon cuddle

Sweetheart cradle

Good old fashion spooning

They’re all very self explanatory so I ain’t going to go into details. The man just likes holding you okay?

Cuddling either Tomas is bliss. Utter bliss.

He made you forget about everything that had ever concerned you, everything that had caused you pain, fear, anger, despair. He made you believe that everything was alright because you were within his loving embrace and that nothing else should matter.

Even his evened out breathing made you feel calm as it focused your mind onto his breaths, reminding you that lying beneath you was a living, breathing man who’d do anything you could ever possibly ask for and request for nothing in return. Tomas heart was too kind for most people, even you didn’t feel deserving of something so pure and beautiful despite everything he’s seen and done in the past, you were surprised that such a man still exists in this day and age.

So as a solemn vow, you swore to have this every night, not just for you but for Tomas too, where the both of you would be able to shed the worries and daily stresses. Only to eventually forget all about them as you fortified yourselves within the comforting arms of the other; Sleeping more peacefully than either of you had in ages.

Bi-Han

Isn’t massive on cuddling, he doesn’t like anything that might portray him as weak or soft in the slightest.

A mindset he’s developed overtime, repressing any and all childish wants and desires he might’ve had at the earliest convenience. Not wanting any distractions on his road to power. Plus he’s cold in more ways than one because like Kuai Liang, due to his body temperature, it makes something seemingly easy as cuddling difficult all of a sudden.

Even if you did ask hypothetically what his favourite cuddling positions, Bi-Han would probably say ones that requires the least amount of contact on his end:

Back to back - so he can feel that you’re still there.

Back cuddles- you’re the one cuddling up against that broad back of his.

Shoulder to shoulder - same reason as back to back; knowing that you’re still with him.

Cuddling Bi-Han is…something and I don’t mean this negativity but it’s Bi-Han, what else can I say other than cold, rigid, and a little awkward? The man is on guard even in his sleep and cuddling him the way you do doesn’t necessarily help.

Besides that there’s some semblance of companionship when you press your back into his own. It felt as though you had each made a nonverbal pact to have each other’s back in your most vulnerable states; Something that naturally comes with a sense of trust being put in the other and Bi-Han isn’t one to trust blindly.

Cuddling Bi-Han maybe awkward and a little finicky due to the walls this man had put up in order to protect himself from everyone else, he oddly enough made you feel safe, he made you feel guarded and warm, which was weird considering how abnormally cold he was in every possible way. Yet you knew he held honour- or his version of it at least- highly, so you didn’t feel like you’d have to second guess his every actions because that wasn’t the type of man Bi-Han was…

Even though cuddling him was obviously something he wasn’t attuned to, he nonetheless made you feel regarded in his own special way.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang runs extremely warm, which could be considered overwhelming or perfect depending on the type of person you are, so whilst he likes contact; he likes to keep it minimal unless told otherwise.

He prioritises your comfortability over his own and understands that his abnormally body heat can be a bit too much at times. Outside of that he’s more than accepting of cuddling.

Kuai Liang’s top 3 favourite cuddling positions would have to be ones that were less on the physical context but unlike Bi-Han, it typically ends up with him cuddling you in some form of him protecting you:

Leg hug- incase you get overwhelmed by his body heat and need space but also wanting to keep touching some part him.

Face to face - this one’s a personal favourite of his because he loves waking up and falling asleep to your face.

Chest rest -the one where your heads on his chest and he’s keeping you in place with his arms.

Cuddling Kuai Liang is warm and secure because when you’re in his arms, feeling his warmth deep into you just as his arms tightened their grip, you’ve never felt more protected in your life then you did in Kuai Liang’s hold.

You never had to worry about being hurt, especially when Kuai Liang was there to shield you from all possible forms of harm; nor the way he always had his back facing towards the door so that if something were to happen then he was able to keep you safe with his body.

It was his duty to protect you, as he would often say whenever you asked him why this was.

You couldn’t act as though his declaration didn’t have your heart melting into a puddle.

So now you just allow his warmth to consume you like a thick, warm, weighted blanket that blocked out any and all cold that threatened to try and get to you; all the while you snuggled closer into him because despite every last part of you touching every last part of him wasn’t enough, you needed to be even closer to him. You wanted your souls to touch and feel the presence of the other but since you physically couldn’t do that, you settled for forehead touches instead. It was just as intimate after all.

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sugurus-thoughts · 19 days ago

Text

03. sata doesn't know you like I do

❆pairing — saturo gojo x virgin! reader!

❆summary —santa, doesn't know you like I do i know all of your favorite songs pick up each time you call so why can't I be the one to give you everything you want?

❆ w/c — 15,1k

warnings —nsfw, established relationship, angst, fluff, suggestive, making out, smut, pure love, mentions virginity, first time, touching, MDNI.

a/n — Istarted a series based on, Sabrina Carpenter's ep called Fruitcake. Since Christmas is drawing near I'll base every character on a song title. This series will also continue if it does well also keep note this is my first time writing smut I hope it fit your liking. I hope you all like it!!! ❤️

ps: I didn't proof read this I was so tired but hopefully you enjoy it!!

"Does it hurt, my love?" he whispered, his voice a low, husky caress that sent shivers down your spine. The struggle to contain his pleasure was evident in every ragged breath, yet he maintained a fragile thread of control, solely for your comfort. His eyes, dark pools of desire, delved deep into yours, searching for the slightest whisper of discomfort. But you merely shook your head, a silent assurance that your pleasure exceeded any hint of pain.

"I need words, my love," he implored, his soft, gentle voice a stark contrast to the primal passion that threatened to consume him. His smile, a tender, loving gesture, was solely for you, and you alone. Your response, a broken, trembling whisper, betrayed the emotions that swirled within you.

Satoru was a man of boundless patience, especially when it came to you. A man of honor and quiet dignity, he carried your heart above his own, always putting you first. From the moment you met at a small, unassuming gathering introduced by your ever-thoughtful friend Shoko Ieiri—there was an undeniable spark. Shoko had always believed in love for you, convinced that someone like you, so strong yet so deserving of tenderness, was meant to find it. She saw the beauty in your independence, the strength in your solitude, but also the quiet ache you tried so hard to conceal.

As a lawyer and a fiercely self-reliant woman, you had built a life where love seemed unnecessary, even impractical. You had spent years alone, finding purpose in your work, strength in yourself, and telling yourself that this was enough. You didn’t think love had a place in your world, let alone a man like him. But then came Satoru— persistent, with his piercing blue eyes, his pale skin, and hair like freshly fallen snow, so unapologetically himself. He didn’t just want to know you; he was determined to understand you, to peel back the layers you’d so carefully constructed.

You never thought you’d meet someone like him in your late twenties, when you’d long given up on the idea of love being something for you. Yet here he was, his presence softening the edges of a heart you thought had grown too calloused. He saw you—not the lawyer, not the independent woman who needed no one—but you. The woman who had quietly resigned herself to a life alone, who thought she didn’t want children, who believed her purpose was in helping others, not in being loved herself.

And somehow, against all odds, the gods smiled upon you and sent him your way—a man so steady, so persistent, so utterly devoted to unraveling your barriers. With Satoru, you felt a vulnerability you had spent years avoiding, but also a kind of safety you never knew you craved. It was as if the universe decided you’d spent long enough braving the world alone, and it placed this beautiful, unrelenting force of love in your path to remind you that even the strongest among us are allowed to lean on someone.

As the months passed and Christmas finally arrived, the gift you had been saving for him on this sacred day was nothing short of perfect. Dressed in delicate white lace that caressed every curve of your figure, you moved toward him with a slow, deliberate grace. His world seemed to halt time, space, and eternity all froze in awe of your presence. Breathless and spellbound, he dared not speak, his every thought consumed by the vision of you drawing nearer, a promise of passion in your every step.

Now as you lay beneath him, with his slender fingers inside you, lace has not yet been removed. His eyes boring into your Y/E/C ones, only to find a single tear seep from yours. He was quick to remove his hand but you stopped him so quickly, only for him to cry out his name. Surely it only awakened him fully, not by want or by hast but for your own pleasure.

“Saturo… please just move”, with a bit of hesitation but selfish desire he could not resist her at all,for she was his everything after all. And before he could even think further… you kissed him. Kissed him so profoundly, so delicately almost as if snow would melt away any second now.

And with that,

For the first time his fingers moved and a low moan could be heard from you as he pushed into you slightly. The wet sounds could be heard from your core, minutes before this moment as he laid before your womanhood delicately preparing you for the pain you might yield before you.

“Saturo” a beautiful moan was heard from your lips as he kept residing within, his lust was growing by the minute, only to make you fully his and only his alone.

“Fuck… your so wet my love” he murmured lowly only to kiss your neck, to distract you from the pain. He knew how much it hurt but he knew the pleasure would soon come after. Your moan was getting extremely out of control, and he knew something was coming slowly but surely. The way you tighten around his two fingers was clear you were close to your breaking point.

“You like that?” he asked softly with a smirk.

His ego was getting the best out of him,for him to know that he is your first,made him feel like you belong to him and now man will ever touch you the way he is touching you.

“Saturo please…. there's something.. please” she gripped his arm, only to close her eyes but knowing Saturo he fully didn't like that.

“Open your eyes sweetheart, you're close.. you feel that?” He couldn't help but see the way your breasts were bouncing slightly only for him to start kissing your neck and reach them for them softly. Without removing the lace that hugged your figure so perfectly he kissed your aroused nipples and slightly sucked onto the thin layer of wet patch. The sounds you'd made were wonderful, his name was rolling off your lips and the man he is took pride in this.

“Saturo…. please-pl-please something is happ-” before you could finish he kissed you and the position you were in has slightly changed to an open-legged spoon position,finally just like that he could feel you were close, and he only let you continue to spread his name fully.

“Saturo”a final whisper came from you as Saturo devoured your neck, and slightly pinched your nipples.

“Let go… my love “ and with one final say you came undone and he continued to ride through your climax in your shaking state.

The snow fell relentlessly outside, blanketing the world in quiet serenity, as your own body surrendered to the storm within—a heavenly tempest stirred by nothing more than the way Satoru's striking azure eyes held you captive.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, his voice a tender melody that wrapped around your heart. His lips curved into a soft, reassuring smile that made the chaos within you settle for just a moment.

You exhaled shakily, every word feeling like a confession he had been yearning to hear. “I’m okay, Satoru,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with unspoken affection. His gaze deepened, as if your very breath was the only thing he needed to feel complete.

His slender fingers traced your red swollen lips as he slightly opened your mouth to taste yourself. You moaned at his unpleasant actions,only to find yourself empty without his fingers inside you,as much as it hurt the pleasure itself took over only making you crave more and more of him.

Saturo could only smile at your response, as you licked his finger cleanly.

At this cold hour he can only get up to remove the unyielding lace that has been covering your beautiful body slightly. He could only feel the soft flesh of your breasts as he removed the lace inch by inch. The way your body shook at the slightest touches he gave you was a sign that only he was meant to fill up that empty space within you.

As you lie before him, bare and vulnerable like a lamb surrendered to the hands of fate, he sees not just your form but the depth of your soul. Stripped of pretense, you are as pure as moonlight on still waters, and he can only dream of the mysteries that lie beneath the surface, waiting to embrace him in their quiet, untamed beauty.

“Saturo,... it's not polite to stare” your reactions were adorable in this present moment only to make him question how the gods above have blessed him with someone so pure and utterly beautiful.

“Am I not allowed to stare at what's mine now?” he teasted coming closer and closer as he took off his clothes. He could see you blush as you kept glancing in his direction.

And finally as he stripped out of his last, clothing she could see what was waiting for her. His member slipped out perfectly only for you to witness how red the tip was, how it clearly looked like it was in pain. Your eyes grew wide at the thought of what might happen next,

“Now it's not polite to stare, is it love?”He mimicked your words softly which only caused your face to turned a slight crimson. He chuckled softly at your actions.

“It’s okay, baby, come here.” His voice was a low murmur, smooth and commanding. You couldn’t help but marvel at how effortlessly he could shift between personas. One moment, he was wild and unrestrained, laughter spilling from his lips like he didn’t have a care in the world. The next, his eyes darkened, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone like a predator closing in on his prey. And right now, with that teasing smirk and the way his gaze raked over you, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to run... or let him catch you.

“Saturo,.... is there something I need to do?”your angelic voice broke him out of his trace as he pulled you against the edge of the bed only to lean over your naked figure. Before he could respond, you whispered softly into his ear, “Can I put it in my mouth?” with a smirk he softly traced your soft features.

“You sure you can handle it my love…” he loved teasing you like this, but he also wanted to make sure your first time was a beautiful yet memorable experience for the both of you. As a man he didn't want to cross the line but yet you wanted it right?

Without hesitation he kissed your lips, only to guide one of your hands along his hard member. He moaned slightly as your small hands came in contact with him,you gasped at his robbing hard member,and this only made him smirk.

Saturo was acutely aware of his limits, yet in this moment, everything centered around you and your radiant essence. The only thing he yearned for was to envelop you in sheer happiness, to make this snowy night a canvas for your dreams and desires. As the world outside transformed into a winter wonderland, he felt an irresistible urge to explore the very depths of your soul, to discover the tender secrets that lay within you.

Each touch would be a gentle brushstroke, a sweet tribute to the love he held for you—a heartfelt expression of gratitude for your mere existence. He wanted to fulfill your every need, to whisper sweet promises against your skin and illuminate the corners of your heart. This evening was not just a moment in time but a sacred offering, where every caress would speak of devotion, and every lingering gaze would convey an unspoken understanding.

He knew you deserve every ounce of affection he could offer, and as the snowflakes danced in the air, he vowed to make you feel cherished, desired, and utterly intoxicatingly alive. Under the soft glow of the moonlight, he longed to weave a tapestry of intimacy between you, where passion and tenderness intertwined, creating an unforgettable symphony of two souls becoming one.

Before you could even continue your ministrations, he was on his knees in front of your sex,and just like that his tongue came into contact with your most precious parts.

“Saturo…. oh oh my gosh” his name dragged along with your hands in his hair as he pulled you closer to stop moving,trapping you with his most dangerous part: that tongue.

Without warning he slightly pushed his finger within you which only led you to jerk away but his skilled arm has you stepped beneath him like a hungry man devouring his prey.

“Fuck, your still so tight and warm my love,can you hear that?” he was mumbling within you and it only made you want to escape his hungry mouth more. You could hear the sounds your wet sex made as he continued his ministrations.

Your moans continued to break loose in this cold night but in the room the only thing that kept you warm was this man before you ate you out like he was hungry for me. You could feel yourself building up, that familiar feeling was drawing near it was so close, you could see the stars but before you could even grasp the feeling Saturo left you there like an open wound.

Before you could even utter a word, his lips captured yours, an electrifying jolt racing through your body as you tasted the sweetness of the moment. His tongue brushed against yours, sending ripples of sensation cascading through your core. As his hands interlaced with yours, he gently guided them above your head, a subtle but powerful gesture that made you feel both vulnerable and cherished.The kiss deepened, slowing into a languid exploration, each movement deliberate and intoxicating. He paused, his gaze locking onto yours, those deep eyes searching for something, perhaps reassurance. The softest kiss followed, a whisper of lips that lingered like a promise, a quiet apology for the overwhelming feelings building between you, as if he knew the leap you were both about to take.

Your breath hitched as you felt him carefully guided your thighs apart, you felt a rush of anticipation mixed with desire. He leaned in, lips brushing lightly against yours again, as if savoring the taste of you, while his body pressed closer, heat radiating between you. The intimacy of the moment wrapped around you like a warm embrace, each brush of his skin against yours setting every nerve ending ablaze. His hand slid down your arm, relishing in the softness of your skin, before resting at your waist, firm yet gentle.

The question you have been waiting for, like a deer caught in red lights, you couldn't help but shed tears at this very moment. The bliss of innocence that surrounded the both of you like pure love itself couldn't bestow this upon you.

“Are you ready my love?” he whispered the question heavy with promise.

And in that moment , you knew you were ready. You were ready to give yourself fully to this embrace, to explore the depths of intimacy together, to lose yourself in each other’s rhythm—a journey that was just beginning. In that sacred space, everything felt perfect, as if the universe had conspired to bring you both here, to this intoxicating moment where love and desire entwined, igniting a passion that would forever change you.

Nothing compared to this blissful moment, and that's when you felt it.

His member stretched you out so rapidly you couldn't feel the pain, he let out the slightest groan as his face came into contact with your neck only to be filled by your warmth on this very sacred day, it was a gift beyond. As his body lay on top of you, you could tell he was struggling, by just staying still in this moment waiting for you to give him permission. He lifted his head slightly, with sleepy eyes and smiled at you, only to ask in his purest form or words “Are you okay my love?” with tears slightly covering your beautiful face his fingers brushes away, each ripple.

“You can move, it's okay” a small teary smile, on your lips. Your lips lashed onto his before he could even protest.

Saturo could only feel his whole world crash before him as he slipped out of you only to be filled with your warmth again. He could hear the sounds of pain and pleasure escaping your lips. Could you be more of a goddess than you are now,the way your tits are bouncing up and down as he keeps pushing into you.

As minutes passed you could feel that the pain you felt earlier was beginning to pass slowly.

“Fuck, you feel so good my love, so tight so warm ” he moaned in you ear.

“F-F-faster Toru”, as you gripped his shoulders, for dear life. You could feel the pain slightly slither away as he kept going at a slow pace which only made you want him more.

“You like that, huh baby?” he smirked against your now heated skin and he moved slightly faster. You could feel that familiar sensation build up within you, as Saturo kept lacing into your womanhood.

Saturo kept praising you, as he continued his lustful acts, until you felt him slightly, kiss you neck only to latch his lips onto your right breast, the other hand was now playing with the left.

You arch your back slightly from the overwhelming pleasure. Never have you felt such pleasure from a man, the warmness of his tongue, the movement of his hips was enough to drive you to ecstasy.

“Saturo-.... baby… I'm” he let go of you only to go a bit faster you could tell he was close as well,by the way he was moaning and twitching inside your core.

“Fuck I'm just as close, I'm gonna make you all mine” he whispered softly as he gripped the headboard, looking into you eyes.

His finger reached your mouth only to stimulate the sensation more.

“I'm close fuck, just like that baby keep still!”

“Saturo!” you exhaled loudly.

With one strike the both of you reached your climax only to have him fill you up. Just like that he collapsed on top of you, pulverised from exhaustion.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence. The room felt alive with the warmth of what had just passed between you, the air heavy with a kind of intimacy that words couldn’t touch. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, then trailed softly down your arm, as if grounding himself in the reality of you beside him.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, barely above a whisper, yet it carried a tenderness that melted through you.

You turned to face him, your eyes meeting him in the dim light. “I am,” you replied softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you?”

He chuckled, the sound deep and warm. “Better than I’ve ever been,” he admitted, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. “I just… I needed to be sure. I don’t ever want to do anything that doesn’t feel right for you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, at the sincerity in his gaze. “It felt perfect,” you assured him. “Because it was with you.”

He exhaled, as if releasing some invisible weight. “You don’t know how much that means to me,” he said, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “I’ve loved you for so long. I didn’t even think it was possible to feel closer to you than I already did. But now…”

“Now?” you prompted, your voice light and teasing as you watched his expression soften further.

“Now I feel like my heart doesn’t belong to me anymore,” he said, his tone serious yet filled with a quiet awe. “It’s yours. All of it.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but they were happy ones. You leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “It’s safe with me,” you whispered to him. “Because my heart has been yours for a long time, too.”

In the quiet that followed, the two of you stayed entwined, speaking in murmurs about your love, your dreams, and the endless possibilities of a future spent together. And as you drifted into the gentle embrace of sleep, his arms still around you, you felt as though you had finally found your home, in him.

artwork does not belong to me. All credits to the owner.

banners are from the lovely @adornedwithlight !

a/n: I won't lie , I don't know if this will be good I felt a bit uncomfortable writing smut but I assume it was my first time . I honestly am slightly feeling a bit, out of place on tumblr and I know its only been a few days hopefully my writing does get better and I will grow an audience some day but please do give your opinions and feedback, it will really be thoughtful, thank you :') 🤍

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