#my jaw is tense as all hell

[winter-parrot]

mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm somebody please tell me why the fuck I’m so so so anxious

[ashlynlovestlou]

winner winner (ellabs x reader)

꩜ synopsis: abby and ellie challenge each other to see who can make you squirt first.

꩜ cw: SQUIRTING!!!! , overstim , threesome , smut with absolutely no plot , dirty talk , pet names , spanking , poosay slapping , dom! abby , dom! ellie , sub! reader , tummy buldge , mention of masturbation , this is kinda short i'm sorry

masterlist

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜

the three of you had been at this for fifteen minutes already. it happened when you mentioned to them that you'd never squirted before. of course, being the two numbskulls that they are, they took that as a challenge.

so now you were laying on your back in bed, abby between your legs and ellie at your side.

ellie was holding your hand, rubbing your knuckles with one hand and rubbing your clit with her other. abby, of course, was wearing her biggest, longest strap she has, and she's pounding into you while she cradled your head.

pathetic little whimpers we're escaping your lips with each thrust, but all you could do was take it.

"shhh... sh sh sh." ellie coos, "come on baby, you can take more."

abby is too focused to speak, hitting that spot inside of you repeatedly. your insides were probably bruised now, and she could feel you clenching around her.

"she's gettin' tight, ellie." abby says. ellie snickers, pressing down and pinching your clit. you moan and your back arches off the bed.

you flail your legs, trying to close them in retaliation, but abby keeps them open. "uh-uh. keep 'em wide and spread for me, sweet girl. you close, huh? yeah, i can feel ya." her words send you over the edge and you're coming for the third time tonight. your entire body convulses with pleasure, and both girls marvel at the way your face contorts.

"no way in hell i'm letting you win." ellie mutters to abby under her breath, shooing her away from you once your high is over.

she gives your cunt a few firm slaps before impaling you with her silicon dick. she bottoms out in one go, the tip of her dick kissing your cervix sloppily. hers is much longer than abby's, making a little bump in your lower tummy.

"s' too big." you whine when ellie's hand meets your stomach, pressing down on the little bump she made.

"you've got it, sweet girl. come on, baby, come on." she whispers in your ear.

abby chuckles as she watches this all unfold. she let ellie go first to get you nice and stimulated, in hopes that she could be the one to make you squirt. but the way that ellie was slamming roughly into you made her believe that that wasn't going to happen.

"hurts." you groan, eyes closing.

"keep your eyes open. watch ellie fuck you." abby commands, so naturally you listen. you open your eyes to watch her slip in and out of you. your thighs were covered in slick, and your next orgasm was coming.

ellie's pants and heavy breaths only turned you on more, and it was getting harder to sit still. ellie had a shit-eating grin on her face, knowing what was about to happen.

"scream my name, honey. come on, let me hear you." she coaxes, and you gush at her words, doing exactly that. you yelled her name, in contrast to the little whimpers and quiet whines you were eliciting earlier. you'd never felt more euphoric in your entire life. sure, you'd come on your own hands, their hands, their straps, and even their mouths several times. but nothing compared to the tingles you felt on every inch of your body.

the sheets were wet.

ellie entire lower half was wet.

you were wet, laying in a puddle of your own substances.

ellie laughs and cheers, "you fucking squirted!"

abby groans in defeat after seeing the utter mess you made. her eyebrows were squeezed together, her bulky hand in a tense fist. she shook her head silently, as if contemplating punching ellie in the jaw.

but ellie was too busy celebrating to notice, "fuck yeah! i did it!" she says, pecking you in every little crease and corner her lips can reach.

you were too fucked-out to comment on her celebrating, or abby's defeat, for that matter.

"how d'you feel, sweet pea?" abby is first to check on you after ellie disappears to go fetch some towels.

"fucking amazing." you mumble, nestling comfortably into the crease between her shoulder and neck, "never knew it could feel like that."

she chuckles, kissing your hairline, "there's plenty more where that came from. next time, i'll be the one to make you squeal like that, hm?"

you laugh quietly at her words, nodding.

[chocum]

WY@ !

— “even i know you ain’t no good for me, but you feel so good to me” feat. toji fushiguro & nanami kento (separate)

WARNING. you know you shouldn’t be messing with them, but fuck it feels good. femreader (she/her) v in p, dirty talk. missionary, hatefucking toj, namis ur boss, corruption kink kinda in nanamis, pervy nanami, ( 1.3k ) note. kindaaa ib wy@ by brent faiyaz mhm. thank you all for the support, hope u all enjoy bc i genuinely enjoyed writing this !!

TOJI FUSHIGURO — YOUR EX

“look at how fucking wet you are f’me baby. making a mess all over my fingers. i know you fucking miss me. cmonnn, come back to be, doll”

you’re trying so hard to mask the raw, carnal desire that pools and swirls deep in the pit of your core, refusing to stroke at his overgrown ego any further because being here, pressed up against his stupidly muscular frame after yelling hitting, and swearing to the heavens down to hell that he’d never see you again is already more than enough.

“n-no” you spit, an attempt to sound firm but it only comes out as a little whine making him erupt in laughter as he brings his dripping, slicked-up fingers— they’re glistening, covered in your mess, to your face, spreading them in front of you to make you watch how you web and coat every inch of his thick digits, “dunno why you’re tryna act all hard ‘s obvious you want me. pussy’s basically talkin’ ta me.”

“shut up and fuck me already” you never fail to bite.

“only ‘cause you asked soo nicely,” but he always bites back.

now he’s folding you over, pushing against the backs of your thighs so he can bully his thick cock into your more than welcoming pussy— he’s fucking into you like he hates you, knocking the air out of your lungs with every stroke, his pelvis brushing up against your clit because he’s soo deep, reminding you who your walls belong to.

“shiit toj’ it’s-“

“oh, now i’m toj’, hm?” he tilts his head, black hair hanging to the side, raising his pitch to mock your whiny tone. you hate him. originally you had only came over to pick up some clothes you had left when you first moved out. it all happened too quick, the argument starting over something so small, you were bound to forget some things.

you told him you were coming over to get your things; he knew. so the lack of a shirt, the towel that loosely wrapped underneath the deep cut of his v-line was no coincidence. one second you were looking through his drawers for your stuff, the next— well, now you’re getting the shit fucked out of you.

each time he drags his heavy cock against your walls stuffing your little pussy, each time he calls you his, tells you how dirty you are for him, you slowly start to forget why you broke up with him in the first place.

“playin’ tug a war with my, dick baby. shits so tight fuuuuck, nobody been in it since me, huh?”

you shake your head against the sheets, your resolve now dry and gone thanks to his cock pressing your sweet spot over and over and over, moans flowing past your slack jaw, “no. no one”

“good fucking girl. you know nobody can fuck you like i do. who pussy is this?” he’s grunting out straight filth and he’s got that stupid smirk on his face, teeth flashing underneath the characteristic scar.

but you don’t want to give into him— fighting till the end, so you mumble a “yours” your head falling to the side to avoid his dark eyes, opting to stare at the blank walls that have heard your scream for him time and time again.

but he stops, fully plugging you up, making your body tense and keen. “can’t hear you, doll?”

you truly do hate him, “‘m not movin’ till you answer my question. you can lay there and warm my cock all night, ‘s fine by me.” with every fiber in your being.

but still, you whine out a desperate “‘s yours” a little louder, heat spreading and scorching every inch of your body like waves of molten lava. because you need it. so bare and exposed for him, so vulnerable.

“who?”

“your’s toji! your pussy, all yours!”

he loves breaking you down like this, pounding you to a pulp, leaving you so small and empty underneath him to pick up and glue back together.

“there you go” he hums, “wasn’t so hard was it?” before rocking against you again, finally, finally scratching that itch so deep in your cunt only he can reach it. he knows it and with how you keep coming back, he knows you know it, too.

KENTO NANAMI — YOUR BOSS

mr. nanami, or kento as he repeatedly encourages you to call him with a sweet honeyed smile, has a thing for the cute, bright-eyed new girls that come into the office. he’ll fuck em a few times, dump out his warm cum, empty his balls then move onto the next.

but with you, it was different.

you didn’t stumble into his office as hurriedly as the others, didn’t pick up on the subtle hints he would drop, brushing his hand against your shoulder, grazing your blouse or squeezing your arm with his large hands, reassuring you when worried about your workload like a good boss should.

but you never got it. and it made him want you even more.

so he decided to make it painstakingly obvious. saying he needed you to stay later than everyone else that night to fill out some very important paperwork you missed when you were first hired.

walking into his office .. felt different, he felt different. its dark and most importantly, his desk is empty, not a single sheet of “important paperwork” in sight on the brownish wood that raises and decorates his modernly adorned office.

“sir?” you chime, grabbing his attention because he was lost in thought, adjusting himself against his black office chair with a grunt.

he smiles at you, sweetly, to hide his hunger. like a big bad wolf in sheep’s clothing “yes, come in. over here. next to me”

you shuffle over to where he sits, his back to the tall windows that loom and overlook the city, perched up on the top floor.

“come sit” he’s humming, patting at the large bulge in his lap making you gulp. but you obey with a shaky, “o-ok”

he’s your boss after all.

you sit, your thighs opening, spread for him on either side of his, making your tight pencil skirt rise and bunch up around your ass. his hands move to map your now exposed upper thighs, a smile growing on his lips.

“you’re such a hard worker. always turning in high-quality work. on time, too. i wanted to give you a reward.”

he moves higher, higher, and oh.

you’re not wearing any panties.

.. which is odd because he peaked earlier when you were bending over to pick up some dropped papers— could'nt help his curious eyes, and he could’ve sworn you had on cute little thong. yellow. his favorite. did you take them off? just for him? fuck, you know exactly how to drive him crazy, maybe you weren’t so innocent after all.

“would you like that?” he pulls you in closer, your bare cunt now flushed against his unfortunately clothed cock, drooling onto the cottony fabric of his dress pants.

and you smile, “i’d like anything you give me, kento.”

the way you say his name goes straight to his dick. twitching against you as he unbuckles his pants, the sound of metal clacking filling your ears and making you squirm against him, your pussy clenching around nothing needy for his thick cock.

he barely pushes them down, just enough to let his cock spring out, hissing when you move forward to press your sloppy, messy cunt against him. then he groans, grabbing at the back of your neck underneath your hair to make you watch as he slides in, forcing his cock past your puffy lips into your tight little hole.

you’re already hooked on the stretch. your jaw slacking open at how he fills you all the way up. your perv of a boss, slicking your walls with his precum.

“how — fuck, how long have you wanted to fuck me, hm?”

you press your hand against his chest, using it as leverage to roll and rock your hips against him.

“since i first laid my eyes on you, sweetheart”

[nyctoaerah]

★JUST A KISS

Warnings: Explicit smut, rough sex, degradation, praise kink, unprotected, pull-out method, dorks in love. MDNI.

Pairings: Sanemi Shinazugawa x Fem! Reader

“You f-fuckin’ whore...! you said it was just a kiss!”

You exclaimed, your eyes drilling into his as your fingers dig into his back, scratching down his spine. He just smirks, that annoying, charming smirk that makes your blood boil — but also makes your knees weak.

“Yeah? well, you’re a fuckin’ slut for letting me,”

He breathes, his jaw brushing against your ear as he sank his teeth into your lobe. You whine, your hips bucking up as his cock thrusts into you, hitting that sweet spot inside you, the one that had you seeing stars and your toes curling.

“Besides, you’re just sooo cute that I can’t resist you, you’re too cute that i can’t keep my hands off you.”

“My pretty girl is just soooo insatiable”

You moan at the praise, your voice catching as you press your head into the crook of his neck, savoring the sensation. His hands grasp your hips firmly, guiding his movements as he pulls his cock almost all the way out before slamming it back in. 

“You’re taking it all so good for me, baby,” he groans in your ear.

“Hngh— Feels so— you feel so good, nemi...”

“Uh-huh, i do?”

“mhm...”

You can’t help but think, How the hell did the two of you end up like this again?

You both were meant to be taking it easy after a exhausting mission, relaxing and unwinding.... Not this...

He only asked for a kiss. And you gave in—letting your lips entangle with his, but sanemi wasn’t satisfied with it and had to go further, and there you gooo, getting dicked down by your pretty husband.

“Haaaah, are you drawing blood now, pretty?”

“Why do you want to leave marks on my back? You know no one can see them there, right? You should do it in the front n’ i’ll gladly show ‘em off to everyone”

“Freak, m’not as jealous as you...”

“Ain’t i a handsome freak?”

“Uh-huh, my handsome freak...”

He bit his lip, fuck he loved hearing you praise him, he snapped his hips forward, and he grinds against you, and you feel that familiar twitch inside. He feels so good you can’t help but squeeze him tight with your inner muscles, milking him, in a way that felt sooo good.

“Oh shit don’t do that, you’re gonna make me cum too fast,” he groaned, his abs contracting with each  thrust, feeling himself getting closer.

“You gotta go first... N’ not me..” He whispered.

“No, you go first.” you argued

“no, you first.” 

“no, you go first— a-ah!”

“cum and, make a mess on my cock, pretty”

He reached down and rubbed your clit, you felt your release building up fast, so close you could almost taste it.

His fingers expertly worked their magic, sending you into a frenzied daze. With each pass, he brought you closer to the edge, your breath catching in your throat.

You felt your whole body tense up as the pleasure became almost too much, your jaw going slack.

Then, Sanemi’s lips descended on yours, and his tongue swirled against yours, capturing your moans as you came hard around him, your cunt fluttering around his cock.

Your thighs quivered uncontrollably, and your nails dug into his back. The overwhelming sensation left you weak, and you could only hang on to him for dear life.

“S-so fucking gorgeous, oh fuck—”

He didn’t let up, though continuing his relentless pursuit of your pleasure. A few more powerful thrusts, and then he finally withdrew, and releases in your stomach instead.

“haaaah... that feels good..” Sanemi breathed out.

You both panted heavily, your eyes locked on each other, just basking in the afterglow of your orgasm.

The aftermath of your orgasm leaves you feeling both sated and sensitive, and a bit sore.

After a moment, sanemi breaks the silence.

“Can i get another kiss, darling?”

You felt a mix of sensations—exhaustion, overstimulation, affection, and annoyance. But you weren’t about to let him get away scot-free after literally dicking you down.

“Keep your hands to yourself, slut.” you glared at him.

“Then tie me up, gorgeous. That way, I'll have no choice but to keep my hands off you.”

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝.

𝐀/𝐍: have a quick sanemi smut:3 i’m still working on the other sanemi smut LOL. But i’m mostly focusing on my yandere kny fic so it’ll probably take some time. This is by far probably the filthiest and cringiest shit thwt i’ve ever done LMAOOOO.💀💀

[inkspiredwriting]

A Life Worth Fighting For

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: It's time we all got our five back. Five needs y/n, in every timeline. If I'm honest, I don't want to read anything more about this Five/Lila relationship. For me that never happened. From now on I'll be posting the stories that I've already finished writing

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5-6

The air shimmered with energy as Five and Lila landed in yet another timeline, they found themselves in a cozy, well-kept house that radiated warmth and comfort. The scent of fresh coffee hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of flowers from somewhere nearby.

Lila glanced around, her brow furrowed with suspicion. “This doesn’t look like any of the timelines we’ve been to,” she muttered, her hand instinctively moving toward the handle of the knife strapped to her thigh. “Too quiet, too… perfect.”

Five didn’t respond immediately. He was scanning the room, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The polished wooden floors, the cushy furniture, the family photos lining the walls—it was all so domestic, so ordinary. It felt like the calm before a storm, and after seven years of battling against the odds in a timeline where everything was wrong, he couldn’t trust it.

“We need to be careful,” Five said finally, his voice low. “This place looks safe, but it’s too familiar. We could be in one of those timelines where something’s just a bit off.”

“Like that time where your younger self shot at us??” Lila quipped, her lips curving into a smirk that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Exactly,” Five replied, the memory flashing through his mind. “Let’s find out where we are and who’s running the show here.”

Just as he was about to suggest searching the house, the door to the living room swung open. Both Five and Lila instinctively tensed, ready for whatever was about to step through.

But what they saw caught them completely off guard.

Another Five stood in the doorway, looking just as surprised as they were. This version of Five was dressed casually, in a button-down shirt and jeans, a far cry from the suits that the time-traveling Five was used to. He looked… settled.

“What the—” the other Five started, his eyes narrowing as he processed the scene before him. “What are you doing in my house?”

Five stepped forward, his gaze locked onto his counterpart. “We’re from a different timeline” he said, his voice steady.

The other Five’s eyes widened in recognition, then narrowed again with suspicion. “A different timeline? What do you want?”

Before Five could respond, Lila spoke up, her tone laced with annoyance. “Listen, mate, we don’t want to be here any more than you want us to be. We’re just trying to get back to our own timeline, but we’ve been stuck in the wrong one for seven years. Seven years!”

The other Five’s expression softened slightly, though the wariness didn’t leave his eyes. “Seven years? What happened?”

Five took a deep breath, trying to steady himself as memories of those long, grueling years came rushing back. “We got trapped,” he explained, his voice quieter now. “No way out. We were stuck there for what felt like a lifetime. And… well, we ended up together.”

For a moment, there was silence. The other Five’s eyes flicked between his counterpart and Lila, his expression growing darker with each passing second. “You ended up together?” he repeated, disbelief coloring his tone. “You and her?”

Five nodded, bracing himself for the reaction he knew was coming.

The other Five’s jaw tightened, and without warning, he stepped forward and smacked his counterpart on the back of the head. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, his voice a mix of anger and incredulity. “Do you even know what you’ve done?”

Lila’s eyes flashed with anger, but Five raised a hand to stop her from retaliating. “I didn’t have a choice,” he said, though even as he spoke the words, he knew how weak they sounded.

“There’s always a choice!” the other Five shot back, his anger unabated. “You’re telling me that in seven years, you never once thought about the consequences? About Diego? He’s her husband in our timeline, for Christ’s sake! They have three kids together!”

Five flinched at the mention of Diego, a pang of guilt stabbing through him. “I don't have a girlfriend or wife,” he said defensively, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I have no one.”

At this, the other Five’s anger seemed to shift, turning into something more like pity. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Because you gave up,” he said quietly. “You gave up on yourself, and you gave up on your family.”

For a long moment, Five couldn’t find the words to respond. The weight of what his counterpart was saying pressed down on him like a lead blanket. Had he really given up? Had he allowed himself to lose sight of everything that mattered because he was too tired, too lost, to keep fighting?

The silence between them grew heavy, filled with all the unspoken regrets and what-ifs of a life that could have been.

“Look,” the other Five said, his voice softer now, “I know how easy it is to get lost in this mess, to lose sight of who you are and what you want. But you can’t just throw everything away because things get hard. You have to fight for what matters.”

Five looked down, his hands curling into fists at his sides. He wanted to believe that it wasn’t too late, that he could still find the life he’d always wanted, the love he’d convinced himself was out of reach. But the last seven years had left him scarred, beaten down by a world that had taken so much from him.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter coming from outside. He looked up and saw that the other Five was gazing out the large bay window, a small smile on his lips.

Five followed his gaze and felt his heart clench at the sight that greeted him.

In the garden, a beautiful pregnant woman was playing with a little girl, who looked to be around four years old. The woman’s laughter was like music, her face glowing with happiness as she twirled the giggling child around in her arms. The little girl had a mop of dark hair and eyes that sparkled with mischief—eyes that Five recognized all too well.

“That’s Y/n,” the other Five said softly, his voice filled with warmth. “And that’s our daughter, Maddie.”

Five stared at him, his mind reeling. “I want what you have,” he said finally, his voice barely a whisper. “I want… her.”

The other Five nodded, his expression firm but not unkind. “Then fight for it,” he said. “Don’t give up on yourself. Don’t give up on her.”

Five’s throat tightened as he watched them, his heart aching with a longing he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in years. This was it. This was what he had wanted, what he had fought so hard to protect but had never truly believed he could have. A family. A home. A life filled with love.

He could have had this. He could have had her.

“I can’t believe…” Five started, but his voice broke, and he had to swallow the lump in his throat. “I can’t believe I gave this up.”

“You didn’t,” the other Five said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Not yet. You still have a chance to find her. You still have a chance to make this life your own.”

Five closed his eyes, trying to block out the overwhelming tide of emotions threatening to drown him. He didn’t deserve this—this kindness, this hope. But he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to find his y/n, to have his own Maddie, to fight for a life worth living.

When he opened his eyes again, he found the other Five watching him, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Go,” the other Five said gently. “Find her. Fight for her.”

Five nodded, and then turned to Lila, who had been watching the exchange in silence. She looked at him with a mixture of sadness and understanding, knowing that whatever they had shared was over.

“We should go,” Five said softly, his eyes meeting Lila’s. her expression unreadable, and with a final nod to the other five, he teleported them both away, leaving the other Five standing alone in the quiet house.

A few moments later, the front door opened, and Y/n and Maddie walked in, their faces flushed with happiness from their time in the garden. Y/n smiled warmly at Five, the love in her eyes undeniable as she approached him.

“Everything okay?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she noticed the tension in his posture.

Five looked at her, his heart swelling with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close as he kissed her gently on the lips.

“Everything’s perfect,” he murmured against her lips, his voice filled with emotion. “I’m just… so happy that I have you. You’re my one true love, y/n. No one else. Just you.”

Y/n smiled, her eyes shining with love as she leaned into his embrace. “I love you too,” she whispered, resting her head against his chest.

Five held her close, the weight of everything that had just happened slowly fading away as he focused on the warmth of her body against his, the sound of her heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of her breath. This was his life, his family, his everything.

And he wouldn't give that up for anything in the world...timeline or not.

[d1stalker]

No Right [Logan Howlett]

Summary: Logan’s fierce desire to protect you leads to a heated confrontation.

Warnings: Logan is emotionally constipated, arguing, making out up

WC: 2.6k - MASTERLIST

----

You pace the room, tension crackling in the air as Logan stands by the doorway, arms crossed, jaw clenched tight. His eyes follow your every movement, a storm brewing in their depths. You can feel the weight of his gaze, the unspoken words hanging between you like a heavy fog.

“Logan,” you start, your voice sharp as you finally stop and face him, “What the hell is your problem?”

“My problem?” he growls, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. “My problem is that you’re not going on this mission. I won't allow it.”

The room was packed with the team gathered around the large table as Charles went over the details of a particularly dangerous mission. You sat near the end, listening intently, your focus on the map projected on the screen. Logan was beside you, silent but tense, his usual composed demeanor fraying at the edges.

"And you'll be going in as a team, coordinated and precise," Charles was saying, his voice calm and measured as always. "The success of this mission depends on each of you playing your part. Logan, you'll be leading the assault."

Logan's jaw tightened at that, his eyes narrowing. "And her?" he asked, jerking his head toward you, almost aggressively .

You blinked, surprised by the sudden sharpness in his tone. "I'm going in as support," you replied, though you could feel the tension starting to rise in the room.

Logan's fists clenched on the table, his knuckles white. "You shouldn’t be going at all," he muttered, loud enough for everyone to hear.

The room fell silent, all eyes turning to the two of you. You felt a flush of embarrassment creeping up your neck, but you forced yourself to hold your ground. "Logan, I’m capable of handling this," you said firmly with a hint of the anger starting to simmer beneath the surface.

Logan shot up from his chair, his voice a low growl as he spoke.

"You don’t get it, do you? This isn’t some game!”

You frowned in confusion and hurt– this had never been a game. You’ve always been strong, and able to hold your own against threats. Where was this coming from?

Everyone in the room waited with bated breaths, curious to see how the rest of the scene would play out. Charles frowned, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Logan, your concerns are noted, but this mission requires all hands on deck. We’ve discussed this."

But Logan wasn’t listening anymore. He shook his head, anger radiating off him in waves.

"You’re all insane if you think I’m letting her go out there. Not a chance."

And with that, he stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him, leaving a stunned silence in his wake. You sat there for a moment, processing what had just happened, before you got up and followed him, your heart pounding in your chest.

You found him outside, leaning against the wall, his back to you, shoulders heaving with barely contained rage. "Logan," you called out, your voice softer now, "You can’t do this."

He didn’t turn around, but you could hear the tightness in his tone. "I’m not letting you go, okay? I can’t."

"You don’t have the right to make that decision for me," you decided, stepping closer, trying to reach him through the wall of anger he’d built around himself. "I’m part of this team, and I’m going to do my part."

Finally, Logan turned to face you, his eyes blazing. "You don’t understand, alright? I’ve lost too many people. I’ve lost everything. I can’t lose you too."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then you stepped closer, a slight tremble in your voice, trying to make sense of what he was saying”

But what about everyone else on the team? Hank? Scott? I’m not the only one at risk here."

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours for something, anything, that might convince him. But before you could say anything else, he shook his head, frustration etched into every line of his face. "I can’t," he whispered, and then he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, the weight of his words heavy on your heart.

For the next few days leading to the mission, he’d avoided you, barely saying a word, his silence like a knife twisting in your chest. Every time you entered a room, he’d walk right out–right past you–like you didn't exist. But you couldn’t let it end like that. So here you were, the night before operation, cornering him in the place he couldn’t escape, his room, demanding the truth.

Back in the present, the memory fades, but the emotions it brought with it linger, heavy and raw, the sting of his words hitting you harder than you’d like to admit.

"Why?" you question. He's never been against you going on a mission before.

Logan sighs, you can tell he's already losing his patience. "It's too dangerous."

You almost flinch back in offense. “Are you doubting me?” your voice is level, but it still carries all the hurt you’re feeling.

“It’s not about doubting you,” Logan snaps, running a hand through his hair, the frustration evident. “It’s about keeping you safe.”

“Safe?” You scoff, anger beginning to rise to the surface. “You think I can’t handle myself? That I’m weak?”

“That’s not what I—” Logan starts, but you cut him off.

“Then what, Logan? What is it? You’ve always trusted me before. What’s different now?” Your hands clench into fists at your sides, trying to keep your emotions in check. “Do you think I’ve suddenly forgotten how to fight?”

“No,” he retorts, his voice rising. “But this mission is different. We’re going into the unknown, and I won’t let you get hurt because I couldn’t protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me!” you fire back, your own voice increasing in volume to match his. “I’m not some damsel in distress! I’m part of this team, just like you. I’ve trained, I’ve fought, and I’ve survived, just like you!”

He tilts his head back, dragging his hands down his face in exasperation. “That’s not the point! You don’t understand what it’s like to see the person you care about most—” He stops himself, biting back the rest of the sentence, but the implication of his words hangs heavy.

However, you don’t seem to acknowledge it--unable to process his words in the midst of your rage.

“Then make me understand! Because all I see right now is you trying to control me, to make decisions for me like I’m some fragile little girl who can’t stand on her own.”

Logan’s eyes flash with anger and desperation. “You think I’m trying to control you? You think this is easy for me? Watching you walk into danger, knowing I might not be able to protect you, knowing I could lose you?” The words crack as they leave his mouth, and he takes a sharp breath, his chest heaving.

“I—” He hesitates, his usual confidence faltering. “I can’t lose you,” he reluctantly admits, like the words are being dragged out of him against his will.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

“Dammit,” Logan mutters under his breath, his frustration reaching a breaking point. In a flash, he closes the distance between you, grabbing your arms and pushing you back until your spine hits the wall. The air is knocked from your lungs as you’re pinned between the cold surface and the heat radiating off him.

“I care about you, alright?” he growls, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing with an intensity that makes your heart race. “More than I should. And it’s driving me insane because I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Logan…” You try to speak, but whatever you were going to say is caught in your throat, the raw emotion in his voice and the feel of his grip on you leaving you breathless.

“The thought of you going on this mission, of you getting hurt, or worse—” He cuts himself off, taking a deep breath in order to collect his thoughts. “I can’t handle it. I’ve lost too many people, and if something happens to you, I won’t survive it.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, torn between the anger that still simmers and the overwhelming feelings his confession brings. “So you’re pushing me away?” you manage to get out. “Trying to protect me by hurting me?”

His grip on your arms tightens, but not painfully—just enough to hold you in place, to make sure you’re listening.

“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he says, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “I’m trying to protect you because I care about you, because you mean something to me, and that scares the hell out of me." His gaze bores into yours, "You’re not weak, you’re not incapable—but if something happened to you, I’d never forgive myself.”

You can see the anguish in his eyes, the way he’s battling with himself, caught between his instinct to protect and the reality of the situation. Your chest aches at the sight, your frustration dissolving as you realize just how deep his feelings for you run.

“Logan,” you say softly, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek. The gesture is gentle, meant to calm him, to show him that you’re not going to leave him, that nothing will happen to you. “I’m not going anywhere. You have to trust me.”

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch as if drawing strength from it. When he opens them again, the anger has faded, replaced by a vulnerability you’ve rarely seen in him.

“I do trust you,” he murmurs. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared shitless”

Exhaling deeply, some of the tension leaves his body as he releases your arms, his hands lingering on your shoulders before sliding down to hold your hands. “Don’t get hurt,” he says.

For the first time since the argument started, a small, tentative smile tugs at the corner of your lips. “This isn't my first rodeo, Howlett.”

Logan chuckles, a deep, rich sound that seems to ease the remaining tension. “Never said it was,” he says, his voice softer now, though the intensity in his eyes remains. “Just… be safe, okay? I won’t be able to have my eyes on you at all times”

You nod, feeling a warmth blossom within you that has nothing to do with anger and everything to do with the man standing in front of you. “I will. I promise.”

Then, without a word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you close as if he’s afraid to let go. The warmth of his body surrounds you, and you can feel yourself slowly relax as you wrap your arms around his broad back, burying your face in his chest. His heartbeat thunders beneath your ear, a steady rhythm that grounds you in the quiet aftermath of the storm.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. Just holding each other, the room silent except for the sound of your breathing and the faint rustle of clothing as he tightens his embrace, pulling you impossibly closer. The earlier anger, the fear, all of it disappears, leaving only the comforting presence of him against you, solid and real.

“I’m sorry,” Logan mumbles into your hair, sincerity coating his tone. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I know,” you whisper back, your fingers tracing soothing circles on his back. 

He nods against you, then he lets out a long, weary sigh. Almost reluctantly, he pulls back just enough to look down at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. When he finds it, his expression softens, and he dips his head to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, pausing there for a moment before his lips brush against your temple.

The tenderness of the gesture shoots throughout your body, straight to your heart, and you tilt your head up slightly, meeting his gaze. Without thinking, you lean up and capture his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a gentle exchange, a promise, and an apology all at once, the final remnants of the fight ebbing away as his lips move against yours.

Logan deepens the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head, holding you close as he pours everything he can’t say into the kiss. You respond in kind, your arms tightening around him, losing yourself in the feel of him, the taste of him. Your lips part instinctively, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth, the kiss becoming filled with even more need, more urgency.

Every touch, every breath shared between you ignites something primal, something that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. Logan pulls you even closer, his other hand sliding down your back, gripping your waist as he presses you against him. It’s like he’s trying to imprint this moment, this connection, into his very soul.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are dark, filled with a desire that mirrors your own, and his thumb gently strokes your cheek as if grounding himself.

“Stay with me tonight,” he whispers.

You nod, your heart swelling with emotion as you give him a small, reassuring smile. “I was hoping you’d ask that.”

He pulls you into another embrace, and this time, he guides you both toward the bed, his movements slow and deliberate as if savouring the closeness between you. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, he gently lowers you down, following you onto the soft mattress.

You shift to make room for him, and he pulls you into his arms once more, tucking you against his chest as you both settle under the covers. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft rustling of sheets as you snuggle closer, your legs tangling together as you find a comfortable position. His hand rests on your hip, holding you close, while your hand rests against his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath.

Pausing, you both lay there, the earlier argument a distant memory as the warmth of his body lulls you into a sense of calm. And then, Logan tilts your chin up, his eyes searching yours in the dim light. He leans down, pressing another tender kiss to your lips, slow and sweet.

You return the kiss, sighing into it while your hand slides up to rest on his cheek, your thumb brushing against the stubble on his jaw. The kiss deepens, but it remains gentle, a comforting connection rather than the desperation of before. When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, faces flushed in the heat of moment.

“Get some sleep,” Logan murmurs, his voice low and soothing as he brushes a strand of hair from your face. “We’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You hum in agreement, feeling the exhaustion of the day finally catching up with you. “You too,” you reply softly, your voice already tinged with sleep.

He pulls you closer, pressing a final kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows, his arms securely around you. You rest your head on his chest, your eyes fluttering shut as you let the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lull you into a peaceful sleep. The last thing you’re aware of is the warmth of his arms around you, the feeling of safety and comfort that only he can bring.

------

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this one guys. Thanks for all the notes on my first two fics!

[pucksandpower]

Actually, It’s Doctor

Max Verstappen x doctor!Reader

Summary: you worked hard to earn your title and Max is determined to make sure everyone shows you proper respect by using it

Warnings: misogyny and Jos Verstappen

The soft glow of the TV casts flickering shadows across Max’s living room as he lounges on the couch, idly scrolling through Twitter. You’re tucked into his side, head resting on his shoulder as you watch the highlights from last week’s race play on a loop.

“Liefje, have you seen these?” Max’s brow furrows as he angles his phone toward you.

Onscreen, the camera pans across the Red Bull garage, finally settling on you perched on a stool in the far corner. “... And there’s Max Verstappen’s girlfriend, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N,” the commentator’s voice booms out.

You shrug, unfazed. “It’s not a big deal.”

He shakes his head vehemently. “Not a big deal? Y/N, you worked your ass off to become a doctor. You deserve to be addressed properly.”

Reaching out, you place a calming hand on his arm. “Really, it doesn’t bother me. I know who I am.”

Max’s jaw tenses mulishly. “Well it bothers me. They can’t just disrespect you like that on international television.” He jabs a finger accusingly at the screen as the video replays the offending line.

“Max ...” You try to interject, but he’s already dialing, phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Hey mate, it’s Max. I need you to do me a favor ...”

You settle back with a resigned sigh, listening as Max lays out his grievances in rapid-fire Dutch. He’s not going to let this go, you can already tell.

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” Max ends the call with a satisfied nod before turning to you with those intense grey eyes. “There, all sorted.”

Arching one eyebrow, you regard him skeptically. “And what exactly did you sort out?”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “From now on, the F1 broadcast has been instructed to address you properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You blink at him in surprise. “You didn’t have to do that ...”

But Max just shakes his head. “Yes, I did. You’ve worked too hard and come too far to be disrespected like that.” His palm cups your cheek, calloused thumb stroking over your skin. “I’m so proud of you, schatje. And the world should know it too.”

Heat blooms in your cheeks at his words, your heart fluttering wildly in your chest. Max has never been one for grandiose romantic gestures, but the fierce protectiveness in his voice, the conviction that you deserve to be recognized for your accomplishments ...

Leaning in, you capture his lips in a searing kiss, trying to convey all the love and gratitude and awe you feel for this incredible, complicated, passionate man. His fingers tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss, bodies pressing closer together.

When you finally break apart, faces flushed and breathing ragged, Max rests his forehead against yours. “I love you, Doctor,” he murmurs teasingly.

You laugh, swatting at his arm. “Why Mr. Verstappen, are you trying to seduce me with fancy titles?”

“Is it working?” His eyes dance with unmistakable mirth.

“Maybe ...” You draw out the word coyly. “Although I do seem to recall a wise person once telling me that actions speak louder than words.”

Max grins wickedly. “Well, in that case ...”

He swoops you up into his arms in one smooth motion, your surprised squeal quickly morphing into breathless giggles. Carrying you bridal-style down the hallway, he kicks open the bedroom door with a wink.

“Let me show you just how much I respect and admire my incredibly brilliant, accomplished, sexy-as-hell doctor girlfriend.”

The door slams shut behind you with a decisive thud.

***

The bright flashes of cameras periodically illuminate the night as Max strolls down the red carpet, your hand tucked securely in the crook of his elbow. He cuts an impossibly dashing figure in his sleek tuxedo, but it’s the look of unabashed pride on his face as he glances sidelong at you that makes your heart stutter in your chest.

You smooth one hand over the deep emerald silk of your gown, trying to tamp down the nervous flutter in your stomach. This whole evening feels almost surreal — like something out of a fairy tale you couldn’t possibly belong in. Max Verstappen’s date at the illustrious FIA Prize Giving Gala ... who would have thought?

As if sensing your trepidation, Max leans in close, his warm breath ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck.

“You look absolutely stunning,” he murmurs, voice dropping an octave in that way that never fails to send a shiver down your spine.

You bite back a giddy smile, giving his arm a gentle squeeze. “Not so bad yourself, Mr. Four-Time World Champion.”

Max’s answering grin is all cocky charm. “Don’t I know it.”

Rolling your eyes affectionately, you continue posing for the photographers lining the carpet, Max’s steady presence at your side anchoring you. He squeezes your hip lightly, a silent reminder that he’s right there with you.

Suddenly, a voice calls out from the crowd. “Max! Max Verstappen, over here!”

A sharply-dressed reporter waves you both over, camera crew hovering behind him with bright lights. Max tugs you closer as you make your way through the throngs of people.

“Max, congratulations on another incredible championship season,” the reporter gushes, angling his microphone toward your boyfriend. He turns to face the camera with a wide smile. “Here with me tonight I have reigning four-time world champion Max Verstappen and his lovely date, Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.”

You tense automatically at the mislabeling, a small cringe already forming on your face. But before you can open your mouth to correct the reporter politely, Max is speaking up, the hard line of his jaw set in familiar determination.

“Actually, I’d appreciate if you could refer to her properly as Dr. Y/N Y/L/N,” he interjects smoothly, not even giving the reporter a chance to respond. “My girlfriend worked incredibly hard to earn that title, and she deserves to be respected for her accomplishments.”

The tips of your ears burn hotly, a mixture of embarrassment and gratitude flooding through you. You lay a calming hand on Max’s arm, opening your mouth to try and defuse the situation. But he barrels on relentlessly.

“It’s important to show that level of professional courtesy, you know?” His eyes blaze with conviction. “Especially for women who have overcome systemic barriers and discrimination to achieve such academic prestige. Using the proper titles isn’t about inflating egos, it’s about acknowledging the years of dedication and sacrifice required to reach that level of expertise.”

The reporter blinks rapidly, clearly caught off guard by Max’s passionate monologue. He rallies quickly though, nodding along with his points. “You’re absolutely right, of course. Thank you for that, Max, and my sincerest apologies Dr. Y/L/N. We should always aim to address people with the titles they’ve rightfully earned.”

“Exactly.” Max nods curtly, wrapping one possessive arm around your waist and pulling you snugly against his side. “Now, I believe you had some questions for us?”

The reporter visibly shakes himself before continuing on with the standard red carpet patter about Max’s season, his hopes for the future, and so on. You can’t focus on the questions though, too distracted by the firm press of Max’s palm against your hip and the low thrum of adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Max never fails to take your breath away with moments like this — these fierce outpourings of protectiveness and respect that lay bare how much he values you and everything you’ve accomplished. The man has no qualms about wielding his global platform and considerable influence to ensure you get the recognition you deserve.

Finally, the interview wraps up and the reporter thanks you both profusely, his cheeks still tinged faintly pink from Max’s earlier dressing down. Your boyfriend just nods tersely before steering you further along the carpet, his large hand spread possessively across the exposed skin of your lower back.

You make it maybe twenty feet before whirling on him, tangling your fingers in the lapels of his immaculately-tailored jacket to tug him down to your level. His eyes widen momentarily in surprise before you’re crashing your lips against his in a searing, all-consuming kiss.

Max melts into you instantly, broad palms skimming over the curves of your waist and hips to pull you flush against his solid frame. You pour every ounce of adoration and devotion into the dizzying slide of your mouths, uncaring of the roar of the crowd and the bright flashes going off all around you.

When you finally break apart, his grey eyes are dark with undisguised want and his lips are curved in that trademark smirk that constantly sets your pulse racing.

“What was that for, Doctor?” He husks out, voice gratifyingly gravelly.

You shake your head slowly, still trying to catch your breath. “Just … reminding myself how lucky I am to have a man who loves and respects me so fiercely.”

A muscle ticks sharply in Max’s clenched jaw, the naked emotion simmering in his gaze rendering you breathless all over again. Then, a brilliant grin slowly breaks across his face, all boyish charm and devilish mischief.

“Well, in that case ...” He drops one last lingering kiss to your swollen lips. “Wait until you see what I have planned for later tonight.”

You can’t contain the giddy giggle that bubbles up from your chest as Max takes your hand once more, tugging you along the red carpet and into the venue with a wink. Whatever this man has in store, you have a feeling it’ll be a night neither of you will ever forget.

***

The sleek lines of Max’s private jet gleam under the harsh airport lights as you stroll across the tarmac, rolling suitcase in tow. A much-needed tropical vacation with you awaits at the other end of this flight — a chance to truly unwind away from the pressures and demands of the racing season.

Max can’t wait. Just a blissful week of sun, sand, and uninterrupted time with his favorite person in the whole world.

A blonde woman in a crisp uniform waits at the foot of the airstairs, offering Max a bright smile as you approach. “Good afternoon, Max!” She chirps in a saccharine tone. “I’m Kayla, and I’ll be your flight attendant today.”

You slow to a stop beside him, posture stiffening almost imperceptibly at the overly-familiar greeting. Max merely arches one brow, bristling at her use of his first name without any invitation to do so.

Before he can address it, Kayla seems to finally register your presence, gaze sliding over dismissively. She lets out a tinkling giggle. “Oh and you must be Max’s sister! It’s so nice to meet you, Ms. Verstappen.”

There’s an audible record scratch in Max’s brain as he processes the absolute audacity of her assumption. His mouth drops open, ready to unleash the full force of his outrage at her egregious lack of professionalism and respect.

But you beat him to it, bristling visibly in the face of her blatant disregard.

“Excuse me?” Your voice is low and clipped, laced with icy disdain.

Your sharp tone finally seems to penetrate Kayla’s vapid haze. She blinks owlishly, looking between the two of you with dawning confusion. “I just thought, since you were traveling together ...”

“Well, you thought wrong.” Max finds his voice again, steel underpinning every syllable. “Y/N isn’t my sister, she’s my girlfriend. The woman I love. And you’ll address her with the proper respect she deserves.”

Kayla’s cheeks flush a mottled crimson, eyes widening in mortification as she finally seems to grasp the gravity of her blunder. “I … oh, I’m so ...”

“Doctor,” Max interjects coldly, cutting off her pathetic attempt at an apology before it can start. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. Show her the bare minimum of professional courtesy or ...”

The unspoken threat hangs in the air between them, loaded and menacing. You lay one hand on Max’s arm, both a calming gesture and a bit of moral support. But there’s a glint of gratitude and admiration in your eyes despite your sedate expression, letting him know you appreciate his fierceness in your defense.

Kayla gulps audibly, seemingly realizing she’s overstepped in about the worst way possible. “You’re absolutely right, sir,” she rushes out, backpedaling rapidly. “I should never have presumed or spoken so informally. My humblest apologies, Dr ...”

“That’s enough.” Max holds up one hand, nostrils flaring in barely contained disgust. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

His piercing stare drops meaningfully to the monogrammed name badge pinned to her blazer lapel. “Kayla, was it? Well, Kayla, I suggest you turn around and walk yourself off this plane before I have someone remove you physically.”

The blonde blinks in shock, mouth working silently. Scrambling to process his words, she finally casts one last beseeching look towards Max. “But … sir, I was sent here to ...”

“Did I stutter?” Max snaps, all hints of affability evaporating completely. He jerks his head sharply towards the hangar. “Get off my plane, now. I’d rather fly with one less flight attendant than subject myself or my girlfriend to any more of your pathetically disrespectful behavior.”

That seems to finally sink in, Kayla’s porcelain complexion draining of what little color remains. She dips her head in a jerky nod before turning away, hurrying back towards the hangar without another word.

Max watches her retreating form for a few moments, muscles still taut with simmering irritation. Only when she disappears into the distance does he draw a deep breath and turn back towards you.

The pride and adoration written across your beautiful features instantly soothes some of the lingering embers of his temper. You pull him down for a searing kiss, not caring about any potential onlookers on the tarmac around you.

When you finally break apart, Max rests his forehead against yours, reveling in your closeness. “Sorry about … that,” he murmurs gruffly. “I just can’t stand people showing you so little respect.”

You shake your head, not even trying to conceal your grin. “Don’t apologize. I’m just glad I didn’t have to call her out myself.” Your expression softens as you stroke one palm over the tense line of his jaw. “Thank you for always having my back, for defending me like that. It means everything.”

The utter conviction and sincerity in your voice washes over him in soothing waves. Max feels the last knots of tension bleed from his muscles as he pulls you flush against his chest, breathing in the comforting scent of your shampoo.

“Always,” he vows simply. There are no words grand enough to encapsulate the depth of his devotion, his intense desire to protect and cherish and uplift you in the face of anyone’s disrespect or scorn. You are his everything, the prime motivator driving him to be a better man each and every day.

So instead, Max simply loops one arm around your waist, tugging you towards the jet’s waiting airstairs without another look back. This vacation, an entire blissful week alone together away from the pressures and prying eyes of the world, is exactly what you both need.

As he settles into the plush leather seating, Max makes a silent vow to ensure you never feel anything less than worshiped during your time here.

No hateful outside influences, no ignorant people speaking over or degrading your incredible accomplishments. Just him and you, exactly as you’re meant to be — deliriously, perfectly happy together.

***

The low hum of conversation and clinking silverware fills the upscale restaurant as Max tries his best to bite his tongue. Across the table, Jos nurses a glass of scotch, regarding you with poorly veiled disdain.

Max had hoped tonight might be a step towards mending the long-fractured relationship with his father. He should have known better.

You don’t seem to notice the tension though, chatting amiably about your work at the hospital and asking Jos questions about his life and experiences in racing. Your polite interest only seems to antagonize the older man further.

When you finally excuse yourself to visit the restroom, Jos turns that signature Verstappen glare on his son. “She’s a real piece of work, isn’t she?” He sneers. “Got to hand it to you, Little Miss Golddigger over here has expensive taste.”

White-hot rage lances through Max’s chest so violently he sees stars. He knew his father was an asshole, but openly insulting you like that is a new low, even for Jos. His fists clench convulsively atop the crisp linen tablecloth.

“Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” Max bites out, every muscle in his body pulled taut. “You don’t know the first thing about Y/N.”

Jos just scoffs derisively. “I know enough. Doctors make good money, but her own bank account clearly isn’t enough. She’s clearly after the next big fish.” His gaze drops meaningfully to Max’s watch — an ultra-rare Patek Philippe. “She’s a user, son. You could do so much better.”

“Are you serious right now?” Max can scarcely believe what he’s hearing. “Y/N is the most kind, caring, and accomplished woman I’ve ever met. If anything, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve her!”

His father lets out a harsh bark of laughter. “Oh yeah, I can really see how much she cares with the way she keeps trotting you out like a trophy to boost her own reputation.”

That does it. Max slams his palms down on the table, entire frame vibrating with suppressed fury. “Enough! I won’t just sit here and listen to you degrade the woman I love with your bullshit cynicism.”

Jos opens his mouth — likely to unleash another torrent of vitriol — but Max cuts him off with a curt slash of his hand.

“No, you don’t get to say another damn word about her.” His voice is low and menacing, achingly familiar echoes of a younger, angrier version of himself. “Y/N is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. She makes me want to be a better man. And you’ll show her the respect she deserves or so help me god ...”

The unspoken threat hangs heavy in the air between them. Max doesn’t even know how he planned to finish that sentence. Part of him wants to throw the whole table aside and … and what? Deck his own father right here in the middle of this fancy restaurant? The fact that he can’t dismiss the thought outright is deeply unsettling.

The harsh smack of footsteps against tile breaks the tension as you reappear, looking concerned at the obvious storm cloud over their table. “Is everything alright?”

Max blows out a harsh breath, raking one hand raggedly through his hair as he glances between you and Jos. Stifling waves of rage still roll through him, transmuting into an almost desperate need to get you away from his toxic father.

Without a word, he pushes back from the table and rises to his feet. Taking your hand in his, Max tugs you toward the exit, movements jerky and abrupt.

You follow without protest, though your brow furrows in bewilderment. “Max? What’s going on, where are we ...”

He cuts you off as you spill out onto the street, the cool night air doing little to douse the fire burning in his chest. Unable to properly explain with coherent words, not when the image of his own flesh and blood spitting such venom is searing into his brain, Max simply shakes his head.

The only thing he knows is that he can’t subject you to any more of Jos’ cruelty, not tonight. Tomorrow he’ll try to find the words, to unpack whatever new trauma has been dredged up by his father’s verbal assault. But for now, he just needs to put as much distance between you and that devil as humanly possible.

Jos appears in the doorway behind you, and suddenly Max is whirling back to face him. He jabs one finger at the older man, a muscle ticking dangerously in his clenched jaw.

“And just so we’re crystal clear ...” His tone is biting, dripping with disdain and finality. “Her name is Dr. Y/L/N. You’ll address her properly or you won’t address her at all.”

With that parting shot, Max turns sharply on his heel, wrapping one arm around your slender waist as he all but drags you down the sidewalk. You stumble briefly to keep up before settling into pace beside him, head swiveling back and forth between his thunderous expression and the figure of his father staring after you both.

By the time the restaurant has faded from view, enveloped in the shadowy darkness, Max can finally feel the vise around his chest loosening somewhat. The chilly night air fills his lungs in great gulping breaths, methodically smothering the raging inferno of his temper.

Eventually, you slow to a stop beneath a streetlamp, cupping his cheek in one soft palm and angling his face down to meet your gaze. There’s so much tender concern and patience swimming in your deep eyes that it makes his heart stutter traitorously. After so many years of his father’s toxic influence, Max sometimes wonders if he’ll ever stop being bowled over by such simple compassion and care.

“Talk to me,” you murmur, thumb stroking soothingly over his flushed skin. “What did he say? What happened back there?”

His mouth works soundlessly for a moment before the words finally tumble out in a hoarse rush. “He … that bastard, he called you … he said ...”

You wait, saying nothing, just letting him gather his thoughts in the wake of such overwhelming emotion. How did he ever get so lucky as to have someone like you in his life?

Finally, the full truth comes spilling from his lips, every caustic barb and callous insult faithfully repeated until the weight of it all threatens to crush him. By the time he’s finished, Max feels hollowed out, wrung dry of the seething anger.

Studying your face carefully for any hint of hurt, any indication his father’s cruelty has sunk its hooks into you as it has him so many times before, Max finds only calm resolve. You shake your head sadly, fingers tangling in the soft hair at his nape.

“Oh Max … I’m so sorry he treated you that way.” You blink up at him, the picture of steadfast compassion. “But you know I don’t care what he thinks, right? His opinion means nothing to me.”

Max exhales a shuddering sigh, watching the vapor cloud in the chilly air between you. “I know, but that doesn’t excuse it. You deserve so much better than to be subjected to that kind of disrespect.”

A small, fond smile plays at the corners of your mouth. “Maybe. But that’s not your burden to bear, my love.” You rise up on your tiptoes to press the softest whisper of a kiss to his lips. “All I need is you.”

And just like that, the lingering clouds of anger dissipate, clarity washing over Max like a cresting wave. You are his safe harbor, his beacon guiding him home through any storm life throws his way. With your unwavering support, maybe … just maybe he can begin to unhook himself from the toxicity that has weighed on him for far too long.

One thing is certain — Jos Verstappen has been granted more than his fair share of chances in this life. If he can’t appreciate the incredible woman standing before Max, if he can’t treat you with the respect and admiration you’ve earned a million times over ...

Then he doesn’t deserve a place in your lives. Not anymore.

So for now, Max simply pulls you close, tucking you against his chest as he places a tender kiss to the crown of your head. He’ll figure out the rest later. For tonight, having you here with him is enough.

***

The pulsing bassline thrums through Max’s veins like a secondary heartbeat as his sleek sports car glides to a stop outside the trendy Monaco hotspot. He takes a moment to simply watch you in the flickering neon lights spilling through the tinted windows — the sexy drape of your curve-hugging dress, the mussed tumble of your hair thanks to his wandering hands, the bashful smile tugging at your lips.

You’re gorgeous.

And all his.

“You about ready to actually join our friends?” He teases, voice deliciously raspy. “Or should I just take you straight back home?”

You swat at his arm playfully, cheeks flushing prettily. “Down boy. We’re already late as it is since someone couldn’t keep their hands off me earlier.”

The heated look you shoot him from beneath lidded lashes sends a fresh wave of want crashing through Max’s bloodstream. How you still make him feel like a horny, lovestruck teenager with just a simple glance ...

“Worth it.” He drops a lingering kiss to the slender column of your neck, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin. You shiver against him, his name escaping on a breathy sigh. For a heady moment, Max legitimately considers calling the whole outing off as a lost cause.

But the muffled thump of far-too-energetic techno filtering in from the crowded club breaks the spell. With a resigned sigh, Max extracts himself from your intoxicating orbit, climbing out of the car to offer you his hand.

“Shall we get this over with then?”

Laughing lightly, you accept his proffered assistance, sliding out onto the sidewalk in a swirl of sumptuous fabric. Max can’t resist hauling you in for one last, scorchingly thorough kiss, propriety be damned.

The club’s VIP section is already hopping when you arrive, music pulsing through the dimly lit space. Charles spots you first, waving with his trademark sunny grin.

“About time! We were starting to think you got lost,” he calls out teasingly.

Lando chimes in with a smirk. “More like they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N are late again — what a surprise.”

Max’s jovial expression shutters instantly at the inaccurate title. “It’s Dr. Y/L/N,” he corrects, a hard edge in his voice. “Show some respect.”

You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow, squeezing gently in a silent gesture of reassurance. “We’re also not actually married yet,” you remind Lando with an easy smile, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

The banter continues to flow as you join the group’s semi-circle of plush couches, ordering a round of drinks. Lando waves a dismissive hand, undeterred. “Eh, close enough. It’s only a few months until the wedding, you’re already basically married.”

He cocks an inquisitive eyebrow at Max. “Speaking of which, I love that you corrected me on her title right away, but you didn’t say anything about me implying you’d be the one taking her last name.”

Max’s jaw tightens infinitesimally. “That’s because while I have no intention of changing my name,” he states flatly, “I certainly don’t expect Y/N to give hers up either. It’s not a Verstappen who went to medical school.”

The words are steely, leaving no room for negotiation. You feel a surge of affection and pride well up within you. It still makes your heart swell to hear Max be so definitively uncompromising on the importance of your career and identity.

Unable to help yourself, you rise up on your tiptoes to press a lingering, reverent kiss to his lips, fingers tangling in his hair. Max instantly forgets your friends, the bumping music, the very room they’re standing in as he focuses solely on you — his everything, his heart made flesh.

When you finally break apart, breathless and grinning, raucous cheers and teasing whistles surround you both.

“Oh my god, get a room you two!” Charles yells over the din, brandishing his cocktail like a weapon.

“Yes,” Lando chimes in, “why don’t you lovebirds go shag in the coat check already?”

The lighthearted taunting washes over Max and you, unable to dampen the warmth and contentment radiating between you both. He presses one more soft, unhurried kiss to your smiling mouth, savoring the moment just a beat longer.

With you by his side, loved and respected and cherished exactly as you deserve, Max knows he will always have everything he could ever want or need.

And in a few short months, you’ll walk down the aisle towards him to begin your forever together. How could life possibly get any better?

***

Max takes a steadying breath as the two of you pause outside the grand double doors. The distant sounds of chatter and clinking glasses filter through the heavy wooden panels, signaling that your guests are assembled and awaiting your entrance into the ballroom.

Turning towards you, Max’s expression softens into one of pure adoration. His eyes roam hungrily over the stunning vision before him — the elegant white gown that billows becomingly around your curves, the fresh flowers woven into your perfectly coiffed hair, the soft makeup that makes you radiate ethereal beauty.

“You look … angelically gorgeous doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmurs reverentially. “I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet.”

You let out a delighted giggle, ducking your head slightly with a bemused smile. “You’re hardly so bad yourself, Mr. Verstappen.”

His grin stretches so wide it threatens to split his face in two as he leans down to capture your lips in a lingering, blissful kiss.

All too soon, the sound of a throat clearing behind you breaks you apart. The Master of Ceremonies offers you both an indulgent smile.

“Shall we get this show on the road, then? Everyone is waiting for the guests of honor.”

Max nods eagerly, slipping his arm through yours as the ornate double doors are pulled open. The MC’s voice rings out, amplified to fill the cavernous ballroom.

“It is my honor to introduce, for the first time … the new Mr. Verstappen and Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen!”

The room erupts with raucous cheers and applause as you take your first steps forward. But Max abruptly grinds to a halt only a few paces in, his brow furrowing in consternation as he turns back to the MC in confusion.

“Actually, her title is just Dr. Y/L/N,” he begins to correct automatically. “She didn’t cha-”

“Max.” Your gentle reproval cuts him off as you place a hand on his forearm. When he meets your gaze, you’re surprised to see the corners of your eyes crinkling with unmistakable mirth. “My name is Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen now.”

The dumbfounded look on Max’s face would be comical if you didn’t find it so utterly endearing. “But you said you didn’t want to change your name. Your career and identity ...”

You shake your head fondly. “I didn’t want to give up my maiden name, no. But I’m proud to add yours to it — to take on the name of the man I love more than anything in this world.” Your voice grows thick with emotion. “We’re a partnership, Max. Forever and always.”

The words seem to resonate deep within him. In an instant, Max’s eyes are blazing with a fierce adoration so potent it steals your breath away. Without warning, his arms sweep around your waist as he dips you backwards dramatically, heedless of your squeals and the audience watching raptly.

His lips crash over yours in a searing, all-consuming kiss that seems to pour every ounce of his devotion into the contact. You melt helplessly against him as raucous catcalls and whistles erupt from the crowd.

When you finally break apart, flushed and grinning giddily, Max offers you a lopsided grin. “For the record, I fully intend to spend our entire honeymoon admiring Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen in all her glory.”

The way your eyes dance with love and happiness is brighter than any ballroom chandelier. “I’m counting on it, Mr. Verstappen.”

Dr. Y/L/N-Verstappen. It has a wonderful ring to it, Max muses contentedly. His eternal teammate in life and love.

Nothing could possibly make this day more perfect.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Unexpected Visitor

Pairing: Spencer Reid x G!n Reader

WC: 788

A/N: A lil Spencer Xmas Blurb while I figure my shit out. Also! I'm imagining older seasons Spencer for this one.

"Hi! I'm, uh, so sorry to bug you but, um, do you know where Spe--Doctor Reid's desk is? Or, really, where D-Doctor Reid is?" .

Derek Morgan had to get his shit together because his jaw almost dropped when you walked in. What was some hot piece of ass doing, dressed like that, looking for Boy Genius.

He jumped up from his chair and strolled over to where you had stopped Garcia, who was just as flabbergasted as he was. "Reid is currently in a meeting sweetheart--may I ask what you, uh, want with him?"

You raised your eyebrows at the 'sweetheart', but smiled anyways. "He was supposed to be home about an hour ago and he wasn't answering his phone, so instead of panicking, because I know what you do for work, I wanted to come in and check before I lost my shit."

"Home?" Garcia squeaked out, still baffafled by how gorgeous you looked. It was like you were sent straight from heaven, a literal vision.

You nodded and tilted your head, slightly confused. "Y-Yeah...I'm sorry why is that---"

"We just didn't know Reid was living with anyone, let alone seeing someone."

"Ah." You nodded. "He's private like that, isn't he." Your smile warmed the two of them, and you shifted the coat from one arm to the other.

"y/n?"

You turned your head towards the back of the bullpen, and Spencer was walking out of Hatch's office. "What are you doing here?"

"Being introduced to your friends and coworkers since you haven't."

Spencer bit the inside of his cheeks and walked over to you both, placing his hand on the small of your back. You felt how tense he was.

"I'm here because our reservation is in twenty minutes and you said you'd be home over an hour ago." You looked at Spencer, whose eyes went a little wide.

"Shit. I-I didn't realize what time it was---"

"I have your suit in the car, and this is why I made the reservation for eight pm, instead of Seven."

"And this is why I love you." Spencer kissed your head and rushed over to his desk, scrambling to grab all of his papers and his bag and his coat and his scarf and his--

"Hi Y/n." Spencer looked up at the mention of your name, pausing in his frantic nature.

"Hi Aaron." You gave him a quick hug, but a bright smile. "How are you?"

"Well." He laughed a little. "I'd be better if we didn't have to work the day before Christmas Eve since I still need to wrap all of Jack's presents still."

"Oh how is Jack!"

"He's doing well. finally starting to enjoy reading, no thanks to you."

You laughed at his joke, all the while Derek and Garcia just shared an incredulous look. How the hell did you know Hotch? Jack?!? Why does Jack's reading habits connect to you--

"Ready sweetheart?" Spencer appeared at your side and you nodded. "It was lovely to see you Aaron. I'll stop by some time tomorrow to drop off Jack's gifts as well as yours. I got it when Spence I and went to Paris last month. I think you'll enjoy it!"

"That's why you weren't here for two weeks?" Penelope's jaw was on the floor. "I didn't take you to be a Parisian man Doctor Reid."

"W-Well, um--"

"It was for my birthday. My choice. I love art and museums so it made sense. Well, it was lovely to meet you all but we have a reservation to get to." You gave them all a quick smile before taking Spencer's hand and walking towards the elevator, your shoes clicking on the floor with every step you took.

"How long have the two of them been together?" Morgan turned to Hotch after you both had gotten in the elevator.

"I think today is their two year anniversary."

"TWO YEARS." Garcia clutched her hypothetical pearls. "How have I not known? How have WE not known?"

"He's private, and...well. You know Y/n."

"No we clearly do not know Hotch."

Hotch gave them a little smirk and a shrug. "Merry Christmas guys. I'll see you on the twenty-seventh."

As Hotch walked away, Garcia and Morgan just stared at one another. "So we're..."

"Going to spend then next ten minutes in my office finding everything out about this mystery person Spencer has been apparently dating for two years?"

"You read my mind mama. A little Christmas snooping never hurt anyone..."

[rafecameronssl4t]

Im so obsessed with all your canon fics AND ur rafe x thorton!reader 😭 are u able to do one based off s2 ep 8 where topper is tryna look for his sister at tannyhill even though rafe and reader had a huge argument and weren’t on speaking terms and rafe gets all protective when topper says “I’ll just track her”

Tracked || Rafe Cameron x Thorton!reader

idk where this gif is from soz :(

A/n: thank uuuuuuu 💗 hope u like this :)

Warnings: slut-shaming, swearing, if there’s anything else lmk

Word count: 745

MASTERLIST (rafe x thornton!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

"It's seven feet high, plated in gold, and encrusted with diamonds. What do you think?" The guy's tone dripped with condescension. Rafe's eyes narrowed as he scoffed, "I was just asking."

The low rumble of an approaching vehicle drew their attention. The sound grew louder until a high-rise car came into view, gliding to a stop nearby. The door opened with a careful click, and out stepped Topper.

"Shit," Rafe muttered under his breath. He straightened up, eyes narrowing further as Topper approached. "Hey, Rafe," Topper greeted, his voice attempting to be calm but betraying a hint of nervousness. "I've got no beef, man. I'm just looking for Y/n."

At the mention of your name, Rafe's expression darkened, a deep frown setting on his lips. His jaw clenched as he took a step forward, practically bristling with irritation. "Y/n's not here," he snapped, each word dripping with disdain. "Go find her somewhere else."

He waved a dismissive hand, already turning his back on Topper, clearly uninterested in continuing the conversation. Topper furrowed his eyebrows, confusion and frustration evident on his face. "What do you mean, Y/n's not here? She's nowhere else on this goddamn island." Rafe looked at him in disbelief. "How would I know where your sister is, huh?"

Topper opened his mouth to retort but then shut it, the words dying on his lips. Rafe's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger and hurt. "And one thing you should know, Top," Rafe's voice was calm, though his expression remained hard, "I got nothing against you, even though you totally punked me the other night."

Topper scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain. "Really? Were you too coked-out to remember slut-shaming my sister?" His hands flew to his head in a mocking gesture, mimicking a crazy person.

Rafe's expression darkened instantly at Topper's words. He lunged forward aggressively, forcing Topper to retreat a step. "Slut-shaming? I wasn't slut-shaming her," Rafe spat back, his voice growing louder and more defensive with each word. "I was provoked, all right?" His frustration was palpable as he took a few more menacing steps forward, his eyes blazing with anger.

Topper nervously wetted his lips, sensing the volatile energy in the air. "All right, man," he muttered, attempting to defuse the escalating tension as he backed toward his car.

Rafe's anger flared, his eyes burning with intensity. "You think I want her hanging around those fucking pogues? Huh?" he shouted, his voice dripping with rage and disdain. Topper stopped in his tracks, turning back to face him.

"Is that what you really think?" Rafe continued, his voice rising with every word. "Your sister is on a pedestal, and she keeps stooping low to hang out with those pogues!" His rant echoed in the tense silence, each word laced with venom. Topper stayed silent, his expression unreadable.

"Is that where she is? Is she with those pogues?" Topper finally questioned, his annoyance simmering just below the surface, the idea gnawing at him. "Where the hell else would she be? Huh?" Rafe walked toward Topper, his tone mocking. "Unless she found some other sucker. Yeah?" He spat, his anger evident. Topper shook his head, a realization dawning on him.

"I can just track her," Topper suddenly realized, pulling out his phone as he walked back to his car. "I completely forgot. I can track her on my phone."

Rafe's eyebrows furrowed as he watched Topper. "What? Are you spying on her?" he demanded, his voice rising with suspicion, his eyes narrowing.

"No, I'm not spying on her!" Topper snapped, exhaling sharply in frustration. "She's my sister, and I care about her. I just want to make sure she's okay after that stunt you pulled on her the other day."

Rafe slowly nodded, his lips pursed in thought. As Topper reached for his car door, his fingers brushing the handle, Rafe lunged forward and yanked the phone out of his hand.

"Jeez, give me my phone back," Topper argued, his voice tinged with irritation and a hint of desperation. He reached out, trying to grab the phone, but Rafe held it just out of his reach, a smirk playing on his lips.

"What? Calm down, all right? Just wanna make amends with her." Rafe chuckled, his tone mocking. He glanced at the screen, his expression unreadable, "What the hell is she doing on the cut?" He scoffed, rolling his tongue against his cheek before tossing the phone back at Topper and turning away.

"Rafe!" Topper called out, frustration and desperation mingling in his voice. Rafe didn't stop. "Go home, Top," he called back, his voice fading as he walked away.

~

"I can't believe he did that!" You cried out, tears streaming down your cheeks as Pope patted your back gently, and JJ handed you another tissue. "In front of all those people, too," you sniffled, feeling a mix of hurt and disbelief.

"What he did was pretty fucked up, but it showed his true colors, right?" Pope said, his tone hopeful, trying to offer some perspective as you shook your head. The two boys exchanged a look of concern. "No, no, that wasn't him that night," you said quietly, your fingers fidgeting with your ring. "You're right, it was the devil—" JJ began, but you cut him off sharply.

"No, JJ. He was high out of his mind. I-I thought he only did it occasionally, but..." Your voice faltered, overwhelmed with disappointment and confusion. This time, Pope interjected gently. "Y/n, he's always been a coke addict. You just never noticed," Pope said softly, his words carrying the weight of a truth that was hard to accept.

“But still—” You’re abruptly cut off by JJ, who shushes you sharply. “That’s rude—” you start again, only to be silenced once more as JJ places a firm finger on your lips. You stare at him, puzzled. “Did you guys hear that?” he whispers, his eyes darting around.

“I think someone’s here.” Pope and JJ exchange a serious glance and immediately get to their feet. “Stay here,” JJ instructs firmly. You sniffle and nod, whispering, “‘kay”

“Where the fuck is she?” Rafe’s voice echoes, the door slamming shut behind him. “She doesn’t want to see you, man,” JJ interjects firmly as Rafe scoffs incredulously.“Yeah, she—she tell you that, huh?” Rafe’s disbelief is palpable as he glares at the two friends.

“Y/n! Come out! I know you’re in there!” Rafe’s voice grows louder and more desperate from outside. Inside, you sit up at the sound of his plea. “I told you, she doesn’t—” JJ starts, but Rafe cuts him off sharply.

“Shut the fuck up, pogue,” Rafe groaned in frustration, his patience wearing thin as he glanced between JJ and Pope. “Listen, I just need to talk to her, okay? I’m not gonna do anything, she’s my fucking girlfriend,” he insisted, his voice carrying a mix of exasperation and longing, pleading for understanding.

JJ and Pope exchange a glance, their expressions hesitant and protective. “Not a chance—” JJ starts to say, but you cut in decisively, causing all three of them to turn and look at you. “It’s fine,” you call out, your voice steady yet laced with emotion. You meet Rafe’s softened gaze, swallowing hard before continuing. “You want to talk? I’m right here, Rafe. Talk.”

[irisintheafterglow]

kid megumi starts a fight. you and satoru finish it.

being fresh out of high school while simultaneously taking care of a second grader was an interesting experience, to say the least. today was no different.

"oh my god; he what? i'll be there in a second, fucking hell," you sputter as you all but shoot upward from your desk, sweeping the post-mission paperwork to the side and grabbing your car keys from the bedside table. the car makes strained vrooms while you impatiently pump the gas pedal, accelerating down the street like a bat out of hell. swerving into the nearest parking space you could find, you forcefully swing open the door to the front office to find satoru waiting in a plastic chair. he mutters an exasperated oh, thank god under his breath before standing and taking your hand, leading you down the hall to the principal's office.

"is he okay?"

"he's fine, i promise." you look at him skeptically, remembering all the times megumi was "fine" yet had scrapes that satoru didn't know how to clean up. "i'm serious. i saw it myself. the nurse cleaned up his nose and iced the hit on his face."

"he got hit in the fucking face?" your jaw drops in shock and you quiet your voice to a hushed whisper outside the principal's office door. "what the fuck happened that he got punched in the-"

"fushiguro's guardians, please come in. we're ready for you," an irritatingly nasally voice calls from inside and it takes all of your willpower not to blast the door open until it's shredded to pieces. megumi's principal sits behind an obtrusively large wooden desk, with the boy sitting by one end and two empty chairs at the other. you immediately drag one of the chairs over to sit by his side, but a wrinkled hand stops you. "please sit across from him, not beside him. he must receive proper punishment and that begins with accounting for his own actions," the principal instructs you and you catch satoru's jaw clench in restrained anger. he wanted to tear the principal's head off for telling you what to do, especially since it was regarding megumi.

"i'll decide where i want to sit, thank you," you reply with forced politeness, sliding the chair next to a defeated megumi. he scoots as close to you as he can and links his pinky finger in yours. it's small, but you know he's trying to manage his anxiety along with yours. satoru shrugs indifferently at the principal but shoots you a proud wink when no one is looking. "they cleaned you up, yeah?" you ask megumi softly and he nods, wincing slightly when your knuckles lightly brush the bruise on his cheek. "i'm sorry, baby-"

"fushiguro instigated a fight with three sixth grade students, all of them older than him. we believe he may have developed issues dealing with his emotions, specifically anger," the principal informs you and you make a great deal of effort to wipe the glower from your face. "student witnesses say that he struck first, and-"

"do you know why he started the fight in the first place?" your eyes narrow on the scrawny, shriveled man behind the oversized desk and he shrinks away slightly.

"no, b-but we believe that violence should not be-"

"violence or not, shouldn't you be responsible for understanding why this occurred outright?" your voice is strained and tense, slightly shaky with repressed anger. you stare daggers into the old man's sunken eyes and catch satoru watching the whole scene with pride. here was a man who knew nothing about a child you considered your own, trying to argue that he started a fight for no reason when you knew megumi would never harm a bee, even if it stung him. before you're able to start a physical fight with the idiot school official that probably saw more board meetings than actual students, satoru's voice cuts in.

"forgive me, but i don't appreciate your tone-"

"we'll be sure to properly discipline him at home, sir," he states emotionlessly, and you wordlessly thank him for wrapping the meeting up quickly. after a few more glares and aggressive signatures on paperwork waiving the school of any responsibility for megumi's injuries, you walk out of the office with satoru's arm around your shoulders and megumi's hand grasping yours. "alright, firecracker. you fizzled out yet or do we need to take you to a kickboxing class real quick?" he presses a tender kiss to the side of your head, clearly unbothered by the way you barreled through that ridiculous meeting.

"put me in an empty field away from people, and i'll make a kickboxing class look like a fucking knitting circle," you mutter vengefully as satoru chuckles under his breath.

"alright, megs. you gonna tell us what happened or are we actually going to need to get you a therapist?" megumi glances off to the side, irritated, but you squeeze his hand once in reassurance that, no matter what happened, you'd figure it out together.

"they were hurting tsumiki," he says quietly and both you and satoru freeze, looking at each other in careful understanding. "she was saying it was just a joke, but i caught her crying while we were walking home."

"so, you decided the best option was to fight them," you say slowly. satoru's hand rubs loving circles on your shoulder and you ask the question you've been holding onto since he called. "well, did you beat them?"

"i did, and that's why everyone is so angry," the boy shrugs and you huff a tired exhale. "are you mad at me?"

"no, megs. i'm glad you defended your sister, but i wish you'd told us what was going on before acting on your own."

"yeah, we could have helped you," your boyfriend whispers and you elbow his stomach lightly. not yet, you mouth to him. let's drop him off first.

"the kids said they were going to get my parents involved. is that why you're here?"

"yes and no," satoru says, opening the car door for you as you slide into the passenger seat. he could have warped back to the school, but he'd silently indicated that he wanted to drive all three of you back. "yeah, we're here to come get you; but, unfortunately for those shithead kids-" you turn to face him in the backseat, a conniving smile creeping onto your face.

"we're not your parents, and we're gonna need those kids' names."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[starboye]

Kinktober Day 1

starring: john price x male reader

request: Older!Captain Price fucking femboy!younger!male reader

warnings: smut, cursing, femboy!reader, kinda age play, praise, pet names, unprotected sex, somewhat blowjob, perv!141 team, mentions of masturbation, daddy kink, creampie

how did the team ever get so lucky with a young bun like you, so helpful and cheerful around the base as the assistant to price, always helping the team out even when they tell you no because they don't want you overexerting or even worse hurting yourself so no matter how much you say you could help they make sure you're out of the way when they work on the cars around the base or something else.

hell, sometimes they use you as eye candy while they work, glancing over at your beautiful ass self dawned in some tight shorts with a little skirt around it because price said you couldn't wear that short of a skirt with nothing underneath it around the base so you just settled with putting some shorts under it with a tight button up shirt that had a couple buttons popped open to help with the hot weather.

and each time you caught them looking they would quickly act like they were talking among each other but just to give them what they want a little bit you would pretend to drop some papers then bend over to pick them up, giving the boys a clear view of you pretty ass, letting their thoughts run wild as they thought of the many ways the would use you if given the chance, to the dismay of price who was watching from a nearby window.

so he calls you into his office, you walking down the hallway nervously before stepping into his office, the air was tense as he sat in his chair, arms folded across his big chest "you wanted to see me sir" you were nervous as hell and it showed on your nervous stance "c'mere love" he said patting his leg and you slowly made your way to him before lightly sitting down on him, his hand caressing your lower back.

"y'know i can't have you runnin' around here lookin' like that and distractin' all the guys from their work right" he asked, his eyes glued to your face as you tried to find anything else to look at "yes sir" you stammered "just think of what some old dog like them or me happens when we see you lookin' like a beaut'" his hands now trailing up and down your spine making you shudder to his rough yet soft touch.

"im sorry mr.price" you were getting hornier by the seconds with his longing touches and soft words you just didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of him "no need to be sorry, just where this stuff f'us okay, me and the team and no one else" he wasn't being coy anymore he wanted you and you caught onto that quickly so what would be the harm in acting in your slutty way "so just you and the team, all my ass for you guys" you ask tuning at him fully and straddling his lap, his hands finding and holding your waist.

"ah ah i didn't say the team could have this ass now did i, this ass is just f'me but i'll let the guys fuck you with their eyes" he assured beginning to kiss your neck and feel you ass, your arms draped over his shoulder as you began grinding on him speedily "now how about i get a taste of this jaw dropping ass i've seen so much" he said pulling your shorts off but leaving the skirt for the pretty look of it.

you slowly pull down his jeans down to see the outline of his hard on, palming him through briefs making him rock hard while you both made out "m'gonna need that hole now lovie" he panted slapping your ass and kneading it intently so you did as he said and pulled his briefs down to let his girthy cock fling out, as you spit into your hand and began working on lubing up his dick price took off your shirt and littered your chest in little bites and hickeys, further adding to his boner.

he lifted you up and angled you over his cock before plopping you down, drawing a loud moan from you that price swallowed with a deep kiss "stay quiet now, wouldn't want the others to hear would ya" price urged pulling back to lean into the chair and watch this cute sight "yes sir" and with that you were off, hopping up and down on his dick like a desperate puppy, needy for every inch of your boss and price? well price was just happy he could get some action after so long i mean he could only go on so long with jerking off to some porn.

and with a pretty young thing like you, he was happy as hell to be fucking you, groaning lowly with each plap from your ass against his lap "a young thing like you with an old dog like me, almost like a match doomed to meet" price smirked throwing his hands behind your head and making you do all the work in pleasuring his cock and you were to out of it to even reply, your tongue lolling out with drool dripping from the corner of your mouth "ha m'dick so good can't even reply" price snickered, enjoying the sight of your little skirt flying up and down.

the real reason he didn't want you wearing just a skirt is because he was nervous the others would be so desperate to fuck you that they'd do anything to get in your bed (and hole) so he told you to cover up more, you were now leaning into him, arms wrapped around his necked as you fucked yourself on him like your life depended on it but no worries price loved the sight of your ass bouncing against him and you moaning in his ear like a whore.

"you want daddys cum" price asks now controlling your ass, his hands tightly holding your cheeks in his hand and lowering you up and down on his cock "mhm i want it so bad" you whined, price couldn't believe that with a few words he'd have you begging for his cum and he was so happy that he finally got to fuck you after so long of only imagining it, mentally bragging about how he got to fuck you before the rest of the boys.

"right there sir please keep going right there" prices' cock was hitting every one of your sensitive spots bringing you right to the edge of cumming with price who was loving every second of this so much that he blew his load without even thinking, filling you up with his warm cum making you cum on the spot, littering his shirt with your cum "oh no pup you ruined my shirt" price said looking all pouty but he was joking but you took it seriously.

"im so so sorry sir i'll clean it up" you quickly said getting to your knees and licking the cum from his shirt, every drop of it and making it all clean again, you down below him between his thighs was making him think some thoughts, mainly ones that were questioning how much of his cock could he fit down your tight throat, he started thinking even nastier perverted thoughts when you started cleaning his cock.

tongue swirling around his dick to lick up all the cum and saliva that you made, and damn i must say you were looking insatiable, hole still dripping with warm cum and looking fucked out but still wanting to do good boy for your boss "this is definitely adding to your performance evaluation" price joked as he put his dick back in his pants and helped you clean up with some napkins he had lying around and put your stuff back on, leaving some lingering touches on your ass before kissing you and watching you walk out the door.

you saw the boys running back to their rooms with their pants shimmied down their thighs, knowing they listened to the whole ordeal and jerked off to it, nice to know you basically had them wrapped around your well manicured finger.

taglist:@mailmango@spermeboy@ghostking4m@gayaristocrat@addictedtomalepits@staarb0y@crispysoup318@its-ares@gargoylesworld09@kadenvatsune@fuckshft

[tojisun]

“ghost,” price’s voice rumbles in his ear, the faint static almost breaking through his focus. there’s a familiar cadence in his captain’s voice, one that drags against simon’s body in miasmic waves—it is, after all, nothing short of a warning. still, none of it matters, and simon continues to march on.

“the mission–”

“stopped being my priority,” simon replies, cutting him off.

there was nothing but a crackle. a quiet whirring. then, “you know this is not what they would want.”

he grunts. “good thing they’re not here then.”

simon slinks into the shadows, ducking underneath the balcony, his eyes frantic as he scans the parameters. it’s safe. quiet. too quiet, in fact.

“location?”

“south of the chapel,” gaz replies with no hesitation. simon hums to himself—price must’ve shifted his directives too, then.

“roger.”

he moves, his boots crunching against the gravel and filling up the dead passage way with just enough noise. there’s still a whole lot of suspicious inactivity, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on the thought anymore. not when a loud bang rips through the silence.

his breath stutters, mind racing—that sound came from the shed.

his legs tense, muscles rippling.

“shots fired!” he reports before he leaps, devouring the vast space between himself and the sounds of scuffling. prayers form on the tip of his tongue, racing down his throat like scalding water.

he’s not even a religious man, but dear gods–

simon passes around the chapel, eyes cataloguing the lit rooms inside what he was told to be a desolate building, before tearing through the wooded shed. he knows he should’ve searched the area for any threat, should’ve probably waited for backup, but simon’s been running on overdrive, his emotions piling. spilling.

he tears the door open, guns poised for easy aim. only–

simon’s body buckles, throat constricting with the words he wishes he can say. but there is nothing else to be said. nothing but thank you’s.

because there, standing in the middle of the chaos, bloody and wounded and banged up to hell, is you. you weren’t even taken for that long but look how much they did to you. they hurt you.

your feet are soaked with blood, your boots and socks having been stripped off of you as though a part of their attempts at making you incapable of leaving. your face is swollen. marked up. cuts trace from the angle of your jaw to the side of your temple, leaving blood to trickle down to your neck, staining your tee. the gash doesn’t look deep, but maybe that’s all the blood covering the actual extents.

simon forces himself to breathe. to stay still.

(everyone has their own triggers, that’s what they were first told when laswell brought you to them.

“remember theirs and be careful,” she said before a pleased smile tugged at her lips. “mommy’s bringing home a new littermate. aren’t you all glad?”

the meeting ended there, just as johnny opened his mouth to complain. price passed around your file and simon memorized every line that night—your tell, your preferred gun, your morning beat.

somehow, he thinks that maybe that night was when his devotion to you started.)

simon watches—he’s always been watching you since the day that you arrived—as you compose yourself. the m9 is still gripped so tightly in your trembling fist, the metal quietly creaking at the pressure. it fills up the space in tandem with your ragged breaths, and he knows you’re still there, trapped in the depths of your mind.

alone. angry. scared.

“status?” price asks.

simon licks his lips. “unstable.”

he hears the faint crackle of johnny cursing from the other end of the line, and simon gets him. he really does. but he thinks they also just don’t understand.

you’re here. alone. alive.

your spiral is just proof of that. proof that even in your loneliness, amidst the pain, you clawed your way to survival.

simon hopes you two were back home—the barracks have been home for years now—so he can reward you. sweetly. fully. you deserve all that and more. deserve to be devoted on. to be adored. to be revered.

you were always beautiful, of course, but there is something sacred in seeing you like this: bloodied, angered, victorious.

he prays that your wounds will turn to scars, if only to give him a map of where to press his kisses from now on.

“ghost?” you finally mutter, and it tears simon from his thoughts. your voice is a weak rasp, like you’ve been parched for eons, and despite that, it spills the tension from simon’s body, his muscles loosening up at finally seeing you return to the topside.

he wants to say your name. he wants to sound it out—aren’t names made to be chanted like prayers, anyway?—but he reels himself in and mutters your callsign instead. the name tumbles from his mouth with the desperation and the worry smothered under the guise of grace.

your lips twitch up in an attempt at a smile. they don’t really get to make it much because of the gash running down the corner of your mouth. still, it makes simon stumble over his feet until he is rushing past corpses and sliding into your space.

“can i–”

he doesn’t even get to finish asking before you’re falling into his arms, tucking in your bruised face carefully on the crook of his neck. he takes your bulk in his embrace, folding you to himself, before he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you fist at his vest, your other hand still tight on the m9, and simon can’t really blame you. even he still feels exposed to any danger from in and out of this shed even when you’ve taken out all of the enemies. so he holds you close and holds you tight, knowing every second is sacred.

he breathes you in, taking in the scent of the leather, gun powder, and iron. it all feels familiar to him; it all smells like you.

simon nuzzles the smooth part of his mask over your temple. then, “let’s go home?”

you shift until you’re peering up at him, and simon takes this as the chance to catalogue the extent of your wounds. his lips purse at finally seeing the gash; you would probably need stitches.

“okay,” you finally reply. your eyes wrinkle as you attempt to smile. “thanks for comin’ back f’r me.”

“always,” simon murmurs, feeling choked up as his exhaustion finally catches up on him. “y’know that, right?”

you hum, nodding, and that was that.

[falling-endlessly]

Boomerang (part 2)

Vox x Female!Ex!Overlord!Reader

Summary: After being faced with a dilemma, Vox tries a new approach to get you back. All hell breaks loose.

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

"You're shitting me right now," Velvette's eye twitched as she stared at the snoring TV demon sprawled across your bed. "For fuck's sake, what am I? A babysitter?"

"At least he's knocked out," you crossed your arms, raising a brow. "You won't have to listen him try and tell you that he lost his hat, only to realize it was on his head the whole time, and then start crying because he forgot he owned such a cool hat."

Velvette smacked her forehead audibly, dragging the hand down her face. "Jesus Christ," she hissed under her breath, before glaring at you in irritation. "You know, none of this would have happened if you hadn't left, right?"

"Vel," you said tiredly, rubbing your temples.

"Do you know how fucking annoying it is to hear him bitch all goddamn day about you?" She growled, waving her hands around aggressively. "I'm this close," she held her fingers a millimeter apart. "To pouring water all over his monitors. This. Close."

"Vel—"

"And then there's Valentino, who's also in a fucking mood. You know what? Forget about the water. I'm going to shoot both of them in the—"

"Velvette!" You raised your voice, making her grit her teeth. "I'm not coming back. He made his choice," you glanced at the demon in question, currently drooling all over your pillow. "It's not my problem anymore."

"Is that what you think?" She snapped, crossing her arms. "That you can just, what, leave your shit in a mess and walk out? Sorry to burst your bubble bitch, but you aren't fucking Cinderella. Things aren't just going to magically work out if you hide from them."

"I'm not hiding—"

"Bullshit!" She growled.

Your jaw set tightly as you both stood in a tense silence, glaring at each other.

After a few seconds, you sighed, shaking your head. "He already knows what he has to do if he wants to fix this," you said firmly. "I'm not going to change my mind."

Velvette pressed her lips together, before letting out an irritated breath. "Always fucking cleaning up everyone else's messes," she muttered angrily under her breath as she roughly hoisted Vox's limp body over her shoulder. "I'm going to kill him. Pathetic piece of shit—keep up a good image my ass."

She was almost out of the window when you called out, "Vel."

Velvette turned to give you an annoyed what now look over her shoulder, scowling impatiently.

"Thanks," you said sincerely.

She didn't answer you, instead turning and vaulting herself out of the window, disappearing from sight.

****

Vox woke up feeling like his screen was being forcibly bent in half. "What the ungodly fuck?" he whimpered, grabbing fistfuls of his sweaty bed sheets as he tried to control his breathing.

His stomach roiled ominously, making him gag. "Nope, nope. Not here," he stumbled out of bed, staggering to his attached bathroom like a desperate zombie and nearly running face first into the wall.

Vox dropped to his knees, flipping open the toilet lid and shooting out an unholy amount of chunks.

"What the—ugh, holy shit!" Velvette coughed from the doorway, shielding her face. "God, that smells worse than that skit when Angel got shat on."

Fuck you, he wanted to say. What the fuck are you doing in my bathroom?

But instead what came out was: "FUghhhuckk!"

Velvette watched him, unimpressed and disgusted. "You're an idiot."

"Not. Helping." Vox growled miserably, screen flickering as he gripped the edges of the toilet bowl.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Velvette jeered unsympathetically. "Who dragged your pathetic drunk ass back here last night? Oh, that's right!" She snapped her fingers in a mock eureka! moment. "I did. How about a little gratitude?"

Vox lifted a weak, trembling hand and flipped her off.

Velvette rolled her eyes. "Ungrateful bitch," she muttered under her breath.

Vox heaved loudly into the toilet, making her cringe. Gross. She grabbed the hand towel off of the rack, before throwing it at his head. It landed on the top of his monitor, hanging off the corner, before he grabbed it and sluggishly wiped his mouth. "I th-think I'm sh-short circuiting," he groaned, gripping his head in pain.

"You'll be fine," Velvette closed her eyes in frustration, but internally her thoughts took a different turn. She hadn't seen Vox this fucked up in ages. Val maybe. But not Vox. He cared way too much about his public image. This erratic behavior was very, very unlike him, and it was starting to become...concerning.

"What happened?" Vox coughed, leaning his monitor weakly against his forearms. The last thing he remembered was the fight with Val, and then—a garden...? The hell?

"Well, apparently, your dumbass thought it was a good idea to pay Y/n a visit—" Vox froze at the sound of your name "—to personally deliver her flowers at three in the morning. Then you cried about your stupid hat, passed out in her room, and she called me to pick you up like an incompetent child. The end."

By the end of her rant, Vox's expression looked even more pained, if that was even possible. "Shitttt," he moaned, curling in on himself. "Fuck. Shit. Fuck."

He looked so pathetic and distraught that Velvette almost felt bad for him. Almost.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were Vox's labored breaths and Velvette's judgmental stare. The silence was starting to border on stifling when Vox finally broke it.

"Did she like it?" He asked quietly.

"What?" Velvette scowled, crossing her arms.

"The roses," he continued, making her raise a brow. So he did remember buying the flowers then, she never told him what kind they were. "Did she like them?"

She was about to dismiss it when a sudden memory struck her, making her pause. "She kept them. In a vase on her night stand."

Vox slowly lifted his head, a warmth (not bile this time) blooming in his chest. You kept them. Even though he'd made a fool out of himself and probably ruined your night. And you didn't kick him out, either.

You still care, he realized, with a fragile, growing hope.

And that meant—he had a chance. Not baseless hope this time, an actual, legitimate chance to win you back. A slow, goofy grin started to climb his face.

"What—what the fuck? What's with the idiotic look on your face?" Velvette cringed away, disturbed. Then realization hit her as her eyes rolled skyward. "You're going to do something incredibly stupid, aren't you?"

"Maybe," he grinned, before another bout of nausea hit him, making him retch violently into the bowl.

"Idiot," Velvette reiterated.

****

"Oh, hell no," you heard Vaggie say, making you glance up. The moth demon looked incredibly hostile, spear pointed at whoever was at the door.

Concerned, you lifted from the lounge chair you were seated in, taking a few steps towards them, only for a firm hand to land on your shoulder.

"Toots," Angel Dust laughed nervously, moving to block the scene with his body. "Maybe you should let the others sort this one out, yeah?"

"Angel, I know I don't look like much, but I'm an overlord," you raised a brow, peeling his hand off of your shoulder with ease. "I can probably help."

"Shit! Wait, you're not going to like this," Angel groaned under his breath, but it was too late. You'd already seen him.

Vox caught your eye, a charming smile quirking his mouth. "Hey, doll."

Your fists curled by your sides, eyes flashing dangerously as you started to dematerialize, glowing green code dancing along your skin. You glitched out, growing substantially in stature as your mouth distended horrifically.

"Ohhh shit," Angel cursed, taking cover behind the bar counter.

"What's wrong?" Charlie's confused voice came from the stairwell, only to gasp at your demonic form, glitching horribly as your voice raged like gravelly static. It almost sounded like there was another, deeper voice speaking in tandem with yours.

"Woah!" She bolted to the scene, catching sight of a pale Vox, shocked Vaggie, and gaping Niffty. Husk, Pentious and Angel had done the smart thing and taken cover behind the bar.

"Y/n," she smiled placatingly, raising her hands in a show of non-aggression. "What's going on?"

"Gonna kill him," you spat, making everyone wince. "Can't have one goddamn moment to myself without this fucker appearing like a fucking genital wart—"

 "Hey," Vox laughed nervously. "I'm not here for any of that, I promise. Just—sweetheart—could you maybe not hover over me like that—"

"O-kay Y/n," Charlie stepped between the two of you. "Maybe just calm down, take a few deep breaths, and let's hear him out."

"Charlie, he blew up the hotel two days ago," Vaggie hissed through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, well, so did Pentious," Charlie raised a brow, wincing at said demon's faint protest.

"Pentious blew a hole in the wall," Vaggie argued. "This guy blew up half of the building!"

"Charlie!" Angel yelled, voice strained. "Do something before we all die!"

"Alastor's going to kill him," Niffty said cheerfully.

"I'll kill him first."

"Guys—" Charlie pleaded.

"I'm here for redemption!" Vox's voice cut through the air, making everyone freeze. It even shocked you out of your demonic form, the glowing code disappearing as you shrunk to normal proportions.

"You what?" you snapped.

"I want to...make things right," he glanced at you, making you grit your teeth and turn away. "I'm not here to cause trouble I swear—"

The door slammed in his face, cutting him off.

"Charlie," Alastor grinned, finally pulled from wherever the hell he'd fucked off to in his free time. "Tell me you're not thinking of letting this mongrel stay, are you?"

"What is this?" Vaggie hissed, dropping her head in her hands. "Overlord central?"

Charlie looked down, pursing her lips. "Well, it would be wrong of us to refuse anyone. It is open to everyone, after all."

"Think of Y/n!" Alastor said desperately, smile twitching as he clasped his hands on your shoulders, holding you out like some sort of charity case. You gave him an unimpressed look. "It's obvious he's only here to harass her!"

"And what were you here for again?" Charlie raised a brow. "To see demons trip and tumble down into the fiery pit of failure," she deepened her voice to imitate his, making him let out a screech of radio feedback.

"Look, I appreciate the concern, but I can take care of myself," you said, disgruntled as you shrugged off Alastor's uncomfortably tightening grip. "Charlie, do what you want. But I can't promise I won't kill him."

You were starting to accept the fact that there was nowhere in hell you could possibly go to escape your ex if he didn't wish it. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up a fight, though.

"Oh fuck," Angel dragged a hand down in face. He already knew what Charlie was going to decide. "Shoulda fuckin' stayed over with Cherri."

Charlie took a deep breath, and despite everyone's silent pleas, reached for the door handle and twisted it open. Vox perked up, turning towards her attentively.

"Welcome to Hazbin Hotel!" She attempted an awkward, welcoming smile.

****

<—Part 1 Chapter Index Part 3—>

Taglist: @pooplyface1423 @spookysisters @that-one-weeb-buts-its-the-main @neito327 @hxzbinwrites @coleisyn @bababahannah

[pin-k-ink]

(STEP)BROTHER KNOWS BEST ★ MIYA OSAMU & MIYA ATSUMU

DAY THREE ➵ with a new boyfriend every week, your stepbrothers are done watching you cycle through losers. now they’re hell-bent on showing you that the only guys you need are right under your nose. but as they pull you closer, you can’t help but feel there’s more to their plan than brotherly concern.

cw ➵ stepcést, obséssive behavior, gróping, making out, nípple play, blówjob, face fućking, fingéring, squírting, hanďjob, unprotected séx, dirty talking, manhándling, double penetration (same hole), cunnilíngus, clít slápping, praise kínk

wc ➵ 11.9k

kinktober masterlist

The last rays of golden sunlight slanted through the large front windows as Atsumu strolled up to Onigiri Miya. He squinted slightly against the glare, lips quirking up at the familiar sight of his twin methodically wiping down the spotless counters. Even after all these years, Osamu's meticulous habits never changed.

Atsumu rapped his knuckles against the glass door, grinning wider when Osamu's head whipped up in surprise. With a small shake of his head, Osamu flipped the sign to 'Closed' before turning to unlock the entrance. Atsumu didn't wait for any further invitation, slipping inside with the jingle of the overhead bell.

"'Tsumu," Osamu greeted, eyes slightly narrowed as he took in his brother's expectant expression. "To what do I owe this unannounced visit?"

Rather than answering directly, Atsumu let his gaze wander around the empty restaurant in an obvious searching sweep. "Y/N's not down here?"

Osamu sighed, hanging the sanitizing rag on its designated hook. Leave it to his twin to show up unannounced clearly angling to see their stepsister whom he'd been harassing Osamu about for weeks now. Trust Atsumu's one-track mind.

"She's upstairs," he admitted, already turning to lead the way towards the back stairwell. "Probably gettin' ready for another one of her dates."

The way Osamu sneered the last word wasn't lost on Atsumu. His own jaw tensed infinitesimally before he forced his expression back to nonchalance as he followed his twin's ascending footsteps. Though he could certainly relate to Osamu's ill-disguised vexation over your active social - and romantic - calendar as of late.

The closer they drew to the apartment door, the more Atsumu could smell the telltale fruity wafts of your favorite body mist - like a tantalizing, intangible siren's call pulling him onward. His throat went a touch too dry just imagining your sweet curves all dolled up and temptingly on display yet again. Despite his best efforts over the years, Atsumu had never been able to view you as just his little sister.

Not when every flutter of your dark lashes or absent twist of your hair could zap him right back to those wet dreams that used to leave him panting and covered in sticky shame.

The apartment door swung open to reveal the hallway dimly aglow in the buttery evening light. Atsumu followed Osamu inside, senses prickling as the ambrosial sweetness of your scent surrounded him from all sides now.

"Y/N? Hey, sis, where you at?" Osamu called out in that gruff yet soothing timbre of his.

A few beats of silence followed before your familiar wind-chime voice sang out in innocent reply, "In my room, 'Samu! You can come in."

The throaty, guileless warmth of your address hung like a caress in the air. Atsumu cut Osamu a loaded look, the dimple in his twin's cheek twitching in silent acknowledgment of the mutinous direction both their thoughts had undoubtedly strayed. Twins through and through, even now...

Clearing his throat, Osamu knocked perfunctorily before cracking open your bedroom door and leading the way inside. "We've got company for ya' tonight, bab—"

His graveled words cut off in a stunned rumble. Atsumu nearly walked right into Osamu's back, frozen beside his equally stupefied twin as they both took in the vision presented.

There you were in all your effortless glory, perched in the center of your bed with those shapely legs folded beneath you in a way that should be illegal. Loose tendrils of hair spilled over one bare shoulder, tumbling halfway down the swell of your breasts where they strained against the gauzy negligee. Its delicate lace neckline plunged in a tantalizing vee between the soft, pillowy mounds in a way that had both brothers' eyes riveted.

The ethereal glow of scattered fairy lights flickered across your features as you blinked up at them with those wide, doe-like eyes framed by devastatingly thick lashes. One fingertip was trapped between guileless teeth, lips parting on what might've been a shy greeting cut off before it began.

For an endless, electrically charged moment, the only sound in the room was the thunderous pounding of three sets of hearts in sync. You glanced between your stepsiblings in bewildered contrition, clearly mistaking their stunned silence for displeasure at your state of careless undress.

"Oh! You two startled me," you breathed out in that melting honey-syrup voice, shattering the trance. One dainty hand instinctively tugged at the sheer negligee, futilely attempting to preserve your modesty - an effort that only served to emphasized your lush curves all the more.

Osamu made a strangled noise low in his throat as his eyes followed the motion helplessly. Atsumu swallowed so hard his prominent adam's apple bobbed, struggling not to burn holes through the flimsy scrap of fabric with his stare.

It was you, ever the blithe, oblivious angel, who finally eased the taut tension with an effortless giggle and widening of those luminous eyes.

"I didn't think you'd be stopping by so soon, 'Tsumu! You should've told me you were coming over..." The words drifted from your lips in a breathless lilt as you glanced up at him through a fuzzy fan of mascara-laden lashes.

Atsumu felt his throat constrict at the picture you made - barely clothed in that sheer, scandalizing negligee, limbs arranged in that boneless, artfully tousled way that always drove him quietly mad with yearning. He drank in every minute detail like a man dying of thirst, from the tantalizing swell of your breasts straining against delicate lace to those plump lips you unconsciously worried between your teeth.

"You should've told me you were coming over..." you continued in that featherlight, velvety tone that conjured images of bedsheets and moonlight and slick flesh sliding against slick flesh—

Atsumu's nails dug harshly into his palms as a strangled noise lodged in his constricted airway. He couldn't tear his gaze away, utterly transfixed as your worried lower lip slipped free in a glistening pout.

"So I could've gotten properly dressed, that is."

The teasing trail of your words dropped into loaded silence, tension thickening with each passing heartbeat. Out of his peripheral vision, Atsumu watched Osamu's prominent adam's apple work furiously as he fought for composure. They both knew damn well you hadn't meant the seemingly innocuous remark as any kind of calculated flirtation - that was just your perpetually artless, wide-eyed way.

Still, something primal and undeniably ravenous roared to life in the pit of Atsumu's abdomen at your oblique suggestion of undressing...or remaining in that diaphanous state of undress just for the two of them. His blood turned to searing lava in his veins as his starved gaze traced the delicious bow of your kiss-swollen lips once more.

Beside him, Osamu cleared his throat in a transparent attempt to wrestle back control of the situation, the gravelly rumble shockingly loud in the electrically charged bedroom.

"Nah, don't mind us, sis," he managed in a strained timbre that couldn't quite conceal the hunger simmering beneath its outwardly nonchalant delivery. "We just swung by for a quick visit before Atsumu goes outta town for a few days."

Your features melted into an adorably crestfallen pout that had Atsumu physically aching to close the distance and soothe it away with his mouth, his hands, every inch of himself.

"Aww, you're leaving?" You swung those devastatingly long, ebony lashes up at Atsumu in such an overtly innocent yet molten look that he almost whimpered aloud. "I was hoping we could all spend some time together since it's been so long!"

Osamu made a choked noise of strained agreement as your form uncoiled from the bed in one sinuous, hypnotic movement. The filmy negligee fluttered and clung like a second, teasing veil with each swish of your hips as you padded towards them.

Atsumu's gaze was immediately, helplessly riveted to the gentle swaying of your breasts with each step, the dusky outline of your pebbled nipples teleporting visible through the sheer lace. He could scarcely swallow past the sandpaper thickness clogging his airway.

"Well, I guess that'll have to wait until next time," you murmured, rolling up onto your bare tiptoes to drape those soft, addictive curves against Atsumu's front.

He instinctively froze even as every fired nerve-ending screamed to wrap himself around your pliant form like the the possessive letch he was rapidly becoming. Your clean, feminine scent - all dewy wildflowers and sweet meadow grasses and rich summer soil - swamped his senses until he felt drunk and delirious with longing.

Somehow, Atsumu managed a shaky nod of acknowledgment, unable to dislodge the gravelly words clogging his throat. Thankfully, you seemed to lapse into blissful obliviousness once more as you pulled back, all bright smiles and ingenuous cheer.

"Well! I better go finish getting ready for my date tonight," you proclaimed with a cheery lilt. "I'll come out so you both can see the full look before I head out, kay?"

Atsumu blinked slowly as your lilting declaration finally filtered through the lusty fog swamping his consciousness. A muscle jumped in his tightly clenched jaw as the full meaning sank in - you were primping up to parade that sweet, tempting body around for some unworthy prick's consumption.

Beside him, Osamu remained rigidly still save for the vein pulsing treacherously at his temple, a sure sign of the barely leashed tension within. Atsumu darted a sidelong look at his twin, catching the fleeting, almost plaintive tightening around Osamu's eyes before it shuttered behind stony impassivity once more.

You seemed to take their loaded silence as assent, already slipping back towards the closet with an airy, "Ooh this is gonna look so cute, just you wait!"

Without conscious thought, Atsumu's hand shot out faster than a snake's strike to clamp around your delicate wrist, pulse jackrabbiting beneath his calloused fingers. The full-bodied flinch you tried and failed to smother tore through him like a serrated blade even as his hold refused to slacken.

"Wait." The single growled syllable hung in the air, pregnant with unvoiced yearning and that perilous undercurrent that you'd been so expertly ignoring for years now.

You glanced up at him with wide, impossibly lush lashes blinking in that infuriatingly artless way that sucker-punched both twins on a daily basis. "Yes?" The simple query was a breathy exhalation of warm, sweetly floral air ghosting across Atsumu's lips from scant inches away.

He swallowed hard, grip tightening fractionally as if seeking purchase in this delicate moment teetering between platonic innocence and forbidden yearnings. "This...date look," he all but growled, fighting to keep his voice measured yet strained with the effort. "Let's see whatcha got planned to wear first. Before you...get all finished up."

Your lovely features rearranged themselves into a small, winsome smile that gutted Atsumu to his core with its unvarnished charm. "You wanna preview?" you asked with mirthful surprise lacing your tone. "Well...I guess I could give my two favorite guys a sneak peek. If you insist!"

With that blithely teasing assent, you spun lightly on one heel to resume your path towards the closet, seemingly unaware or uncaring of the twin looks of heated hunger tracking your every swaying movement. A few beats of tense silence ensued, broken only by muffled rustlings and the harsh, shallow breaths both brothers fought to control.

The soft clearing of your throat finally pulled Atsumu from his lust-addled trance. "Okay," you sing-songed from somewhere within the closet's dimness, "promise not to laugh, 'k??"

Before either twin could formulate a response, you emerged with a series of coy, playful footstep tapping out a cadence that seized both men by their very roots. There you stood bathed in the candlelight's honeyed glow, coquettishly posed as if awaiting judgment from some superficial fashion panel.

Atsumu barely registered your hopeful expression as his stunned gaze drank in the scrap of flimsy fabric you wore like a taunting second skin. Satin and lace that hugged every lush, tempting curve in a way outlawed in several sovereign nations. The plunging neckline plunged criminally low, simultaneously displaying a salacious expanse of soft décolletage and emphasizing the gravity-defying swell of your breasts to dizzying effect.

A hundred lascivious scenarios blossomed behind Atsumu's glazed stare without permission. He envisioned how easy it would be to trail blazing, open-mouthed kisses down that tantalizing display of flushed cleavage, to let his seeking fingers cup and knead while staking his claim in lurid imprints of teeth and tongue.

The sharp intake of Osamu's breath beside him finally punctured Atsumu's trance, realizing all at once that his twin's blown pupils were similarly riveted to the same obscene vista of your body's hypnotic geography barely contained by scraps of scintillating fabric.

You shifted almost imperceptibly from one foot to the other, that simple adjustment making the silky material shimmer and cling even more lasciviously to trembling strips of bare thigh and the shadowed vee between. A small, bewildered pout graced your kiss-reddened lips as your glanced between the two of them uncertainly.

"You guys...don't like it?" The tiniest hurt lilt in your breathy address punctured straight through Atsumu's thundering heart. He couldn't bear that wounded look, not when you'd slipped on that salaciously sinful outfit precisely to entice and enchant the depraved bastard you were heading out to meet tonight.

The mere thought of some drunken asshole leering over and pawing your sweet curves in those scraps of indecent fabric flooded Atsumu's mouth with the acrid taste of possession and fury.

"We like it," he all but growled without thinking, voice gone low and rough with naked yearning. "We like it a little too fuckin' much if ya ask me..."

The loaded weight of Atsumu's hoarse admission seemed to detonate in the electrically charged space. Osamu sucked in a sharp inhale beside him, but remained tense and coiled like an unsprung trap.

You blinked those devastatingly innocent doe eyes, clearly missing the undercurrent thrumming through your stepbrothers' every fraught syllable and micro-movement. Your lovely features rearranged themselves into a brilliantly relieved smile that sent a visceral pang lancing through Atsumu's gut.

"I'm so glad!" you exclaimed in that melted honey voice, doe eyes sparking as you did an artless little spin.

The gauzy micro-dress swirled up in a tantalizing vortex, granting them both a molten glimpse of thighs and the lacy ribbons of your garter belt before resettling in obscene folds. You radiated the picture of youthful obliviousness - here was a stunning, sweetly curved delicacy utterly ignorant of her own potent allure.

It was enough to drive twin red-blooded males slowly insane with starvation-edged hunger.

Osamu cleared his throat with a gravelly rumble, somehow locating words through sheer force of will. "Uh...babygirl? Ya' really think that's such a good idea? Wearin' somethin' like..." he trailed off with a vague gesture that encompassed your scantily-clad form, "...that out in public tonight?"

You canted your head in that precious way, lower lip jutting out in a tiny pout. "What d'you mean? It's not that bad, right? Ken said he loves when I dress up all pretty like this!"

The unspoken implication that "Ken" was looking forward to peeling you out of those shreds of shimmering sin sent a pulse of molten rage roaring through Atsumu's veins. He instinctively stepped closer, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists at his sides to restrain the overwhelming urge to gather you up and spirit you away where no other sets of eyes could devour your sweetly curved sway.

"Yeah, well Ken sounds like a fuckin' asshole who can't be trusted," he bit out through gritted teeth. He refused to watch placidly as another in your string of disappointing bathroom-door-boyfriends used and discarded you after getting his greedy fill.

As if reading his turbulent thoughts, Osamu sidled up with liquid grace to flank your other side, effectively boxing you in with their larger bodies. "Baby, I know ya' like to look nice for the loser flavor of the week," he rumbled in that low timbre Atsumu knew burrowed straight between your thighs. "But dontcha think this is goin' a lil' too far? We're just lookin' out for ya' here..."

You rolled those sinfully lush eyes with the ghost of a smirk, not even seeming to register how the two of them were subtly coiled like restraints. "You guys don't have to worry about me sooo much! I can totally handle myself on a little date night," you chided with playful lightness. "Ken knows I don't put out on the first few dates. That's for sure!"

The petite emphasis on the last phrase shattered Atsumu's carefully maintained control. He surged forward with a savage snarl ripping up from his chest before Osamu could even blink, relentless palms slamming into the doorframe on either side of your head. Your startled gasp filled his senses like ambrosia, lips parting enticingly mere inches away.

"How many other assholes you plannin' on stringin' along for 'a few dates,' huh baby?" he growled, glaring down into those crystalline pools of bewildered innocence. Atsumu lowered his gaze meaningfully to the taut stretch of deep plum lace barely preserving your decency, watching in sadistic satisfaction as the delicate tip of your throat bobbed convulsively.

"I saw the panty drawer you keep tuckin' away all those crappy leftovers from your other shitty boyfriends - thongs, garters, fuckin' CROTCHLESS shit..." Atsumu bit off each crude word with relish, drinking in the delicious spill of carmine flooding those angelic cheeks.

"'Tsumu..." Osamu's warning rasp barely registered over the pounding rush of blood in Atsumu's ears.

He leaned in fractionally closer, letting his lower abdomen just graze yours with featherlight suggestion. Your eyes blew wider than saucers, lips trembling on a residual gasp that could have been either dismay or want. Atsumu couldn't tell which and found he didn't fucking care - his whole world had narrowed to the tantalizing flare of your nostrils and the pulse visibly thundering beneath your swan's throat.

"Get it through your sweet lil' head," he rumbled in that graveled bedroom purr he knew stopped your breath. "Ain't no man on this green earth gonna be tastin' and touchin' you the way 'Samu and I have dreamed of for years now, princess..."

The heavy silence that blanketed the room was near suffocating in its density. Osamu could taste the ripe undercurrents of yearning and forbidden hunger on his tongue like a fleeting phantasm. His gaze remained locked onto you - the living, breathing embodiment of sweet temptation barely contained in that scrap of indecent satin.

He drank in every minute detail with meticulous precision honed over years of coveting you from afar. The delicate bow of your lips, slightly parted around shallow pants that made your chest swell enticingly with each inhale. The feathery wisps of hair escaping your tousled updo to trail across one flushed cheek. Each and every curve clung to by gossamer fabric that somehow only amplified the raw allure and natural sensuality you exuded without even trying.

A muscle ticked in Osamu's rigid jaw as Atsumu shifted infinitesimally closer behind you, radiating smoldering covetousness. His palms drifted up from their perch at your waist, flexing possessively against the soft give of your ribcage in a way that made Osamu's chest constrict.

You shivered bodily at the undisguised intimacy of the caress, plump lower lip getting worried fetchingly between your teeth. Osamu's focus immediately zeroed in on the subconscious invitation of the act, recalling with perfect clarity the myriad times he'd lain awake fantasizing about capturing that lush pout between his own and tasting your quiet need for himself...

Atsumu's smug rumble shattered the ripe moment as he leaned in to nuzzle that sharp jaw against the elegant arch of your throat. The sheer sin of the gesture - of so blatantly scenting and marking his claim upon you - caused a visceral flare of heated possession to spike through Osamu's veins.

"Keep tellin' yourself this latest loser-in-a-long-line is somethin' special if ya' want, babygirl," Atsumu growled in that low rasp that Osamu knew curled straight between your thighs with blistering accuracy. "But I got a thousand yen says that dickhead's already picturin' his bare dick rubbin' between these sweet tits while you're all dolled up for him..."

Twin roses of feverish color blossomed across your cheekbones at the vulgar words, one of Atsumu's broad palms cupping your breast in a leisurely caress - as if its weight and fullness belonged cradled against his calloused fingers. You trembled like a newborn faun from the blatant possession.

But even as Osamu's gaze drank in the ripe exhibition of Atsumu's crude veneration, a new resolve steeled behind his ribs. He couldn't allow his twin to monopolize your focus and reactions, couldn't bear the thought of you slipping any further under Atsumu's spell when his stake was equally branded into your mind...

Silently tracking the agitated rise and fall of Atsumu's throat, Osamu considered his next calculated gambit. You were far too precious to squander any longer on these disastrous dalliances that devastated your tender heart over and over and over again. Far too magnificent to allow some unworthy cretin's hands to sully or possess even a moment of your sweet attentions.

Which left only one inexorable conclusion: he and Atsumu would simply have to thoroughly convince you of that themselves - mind, body, and soul. No further delays, no more playing the part of passively smitten observers. Tonight was the breaking point where they finally claimed you for their own with no more false platitudes.

No matter what it took, you would abandon that foolish date and all the cheap facsimiles that had only feebly approximated Osamu and Atsumu's all-consuming desire all these long, torturous years. Once and for all, you would be thoroughly disabused of any remaining delusions.

The full scope of Osamu's resolve must have filtered through his body language, because a frisson of unease abruptly rippled across your features even as rapture still hooded your gaze. Those mercurial eyes flashed up to meet his own burning stare of sin-edged promise as your fingers crept up to self-consciously toy with the neckline of your lurid dress.

"'Samu...?" The tiny querulous quaver in your voice made Osamu's throat constrict painfully. You looked so unbearably sweet and demure yet wanton all at once - the perfect heady blend that had driven both him and his twin to the brink more times than either could count.

Unable to restrain himself a moment more, Osamu surged forward with liquid grace. He cupped the soft plenitude of your cheek with a calloused palm, thumb caressing the anxious flutter of your pulsepoint as your guileless gaze bored into his. So much naked, vulnerable trust in those luminous depths despite the forbidden territory they now roamed...

"Shh, babygirl," Osamu managed to rasp past the scorching knot in his throat. His silvery eyes roved over your features with ravenous precision before letting his stare trail down to more southerly territory. "I know ya' think you've moved on from needin' either of us in that way. But that's alright..."

Osamu allowed his roaming hand to dip lower, fingertips skimming the sumptuous curve of your breast in a feather-light tease that had your eyes fluttering shut. A tremor shuddered through your slight form, causing the gossamer fabric of your dress to rub against your nipples in excruciating friction. The resulting punched-out whimper made Osamu's cock throb insistently, already aching to hear you keen for them as no other.

"We sure as hell haven't moved on from wantin' ya'," he growled against the velvety galaxy of your cheek as Atsumu groaned his concurrence from behind.

Osamu's confession felt like it detonated in the space between your bodies, the raw timbre of his words detonating against your heated skin in visceral waves. You instinctively shivered at the undisguised yearning scorching across that graveled declaration. It seemed to caress every sensitized nerve-ending, stoking insistent tendrils of answering need low in your belly.

Before you could even think to muster a stuttered reply, Atsumu rumbled his own heady agreement in that sandpaper baritone that never failed to splinter your composure. The reverberations shuddered against the ultra-sensitive strip of skin along the nape of your neck where his lips damn near grazed in a searing tease. You could feel the whisper-soft rasp of his exhalation feathering across your flushed epidermis with each panted breath, raising chill after delicious chill.

A violent tremor wracked your form at the dual overload of their overwhelming presences entirely bracketing you in from both sides. The indisputable proof of their smoldering desire felt like a physical force, utterly inescapable even if you'd possessed the will to flee this rapidly thickening miasma of temptation.

Dimly, you registered Osamu's rough palms cupping your jaw in an achingly tender yet inexorably possessive hold. His pewter gaze remained locked onto your features with an inscrutable, raptor-like intensity - as if meticulously cataloging every minute shift of emotion flickering across them. As if committing the exquisite artistry of your discomposure to permanent memory.

You felt incredibly small yet...cherished in that breathless moment between your stepbrothers. Despite the tangible undercurrent of primal want you could all but taste pulsing and crackling in the heated air, their combined physicality and nearness still enveloped you in a discordant sense of utter safety too. As if you remained untouchable - a revered treasure to be exalted or surrendered to reverent hands alone, with no other outcome even remotely permissible.

Osamu's piercing stare lasered downward, meticulously tracking every miniscule part and quiver of your lips. You couldn't be sure through the lusty haze fuzzying your senses, but you were fairly certain his pupils expanded fractionally as your pink tongue instinctively flicked out to wet them. His prominent adam's apple bobbed convulsively, the clenched ridges of his jaw shifting beneath his tawny skin as you watched him visibly struggle to restrain himself.

The tip of his calloused thumb stroked one maddening circle against your tingling skin before unexpectedly drifting lower to trace the plump curve of your lower lip in a molten caress. Your breath strangled in your constricted throat at the unmistakable claiming possession of the action. Osamu's quicksilver stare remained riveted to your parted mouth, utterly transfixed as he unhurriedly mapped its trembling shape and glistening give.

For several agonizing heartbeats, the only sounds permeating the heavy quiet were your shared, harshly indrawn breaths intermingling in the charged space between. You longed and dreaded in equal measure for Osamu to finally break the suspense, certain whichever filthy confessions he finally unleashed would undoubtedly scorch like a brand.

At last, his deep timbre sliced through the ripe tension in a ragged, gravel-rough rasp. "Y'know, baby...there were so many nights after leavin' your bed where I had to slip away and take matters into my own hands. Just to stay sane after bein' surrounded by you—sweet, soft, and so fuckin' unconsciously tempting..."

Osamu's eyelids practically drifted shut, pewter irises disappearing behind a smoky veil as he indulged in whatever vivid reminiscences your nearness summoned. You felt the trembling beginnings of a delicious shudder start outward from your solar plexus at his blatant implication. The blunt rasp of his voice caressed every tingling nerve like a brand, making your lungs constrict with effort.

"Had to lock myself away..." he continued in that sandpaper timbre that burrowed straight to your molten core. "'Til I could come with your name on my lips and pretend for just a second that it was you and not my own fist wrapped around my cock, milkin' me dry."

A desperate whimper very nearly shredded free of your parted, panting lips as a fresh blaze of slick heat roared between your clenching thighs. You shamelessly canted your pelvis against the merciless wall of Atsumu's front in a useless bid for friction, for release, for...something.

Osamu's rugged features etched themselves into a semblance of a pained smirk at your helpless reaction, sensing your imminent unraveling with predatory precision. It only made his stare rake across your features with that much more unhurried, heated savoring.

"Or sometimes..." he ground out after a beat, voice rough yet unraveling into something lower and thicker with carnal recollection. "Sometimes I'd picture you still curled up against me in that sweet little nighty of yours, so warm an' soft..."

That shudder broke free in full force then, rendering your entire form trembling like a leave in a gale. Osamu allowed the calloused pad of his thumb to resume tracing the shape of your parted lips almost absently as he descended into this shadowed reverie.

"Could damn near feel how it'd be..." he rasped, pewter gaze molten and unblinking as it continued devouring every twitching nuance of your rapt features. "...to have you close enough to breathe in deep while I got myself off to the thought of sinkin' into that perfect, tight little—"

"Osamu." Atsumu's single bitten utterance from behind you landed like a thunderclap in the scorching quiet. His deep baritone carried unmistakable notes of reproval...and yet undeniable want too. As if he were berating Osamu for succumbing to such feral depravity yet still savoring every lurid syllable regardless.

The brusque sound of your stepbrother's voice jolted through you like an electric shock after the thick,molasses-paced obscenities dripping from Osamu's lips. You blinked hazily, only then realizing you had devolved to shamelessly writhing against the scorching planes of Atsumu's unforgiving front in wordless, wanton entreaty.

Osamu seemed to relish both your and his twin's reactions in equal measure. His lips curved into a practiced smirk - part self-deprecation, part primal male arrogance at reducing you to such a dissolute state. That piercing pewter stare stayed locked onto your dazed features as he ran the very tip of one callused digit around the gasping, swollen shape of your mouth.

"Better be careful there, baby sis," he gritted out in a gravelly tone that somehow sounded unhurried yet rougher around the edges,as if spiraling towards that precarious edge of control. "Y'keep temptin' us with those pretty lips of yours much longer and one of us is like to finally snap and fu—"

"Enough." Atsumu's low command cut through the thick, desire-hazed miasma shrouding the room like a knife. The razor-edged utterance had an immediate sobering effect, seeming to splinter the fevered tension into something darker yet no less molten.

You turned your bemused stare up towards him, following the simmering weight of his glowering regard as he leveled it towards Osamu. Atsumu's expressive features had taken on an almost feral set - upper lip curled into the slightest of snarls, russet eyes blazing from beneath lowered brows, the sharp ridges of his jaw clenched until they strained against the tawny skin.

Osamu met his twin's look of mute challenge head-on, lips twisting into a semblance of a sneer. "Got a problem, 'Tsumu?" he drawled in a deceptively nonchalant rasp laced with undisguised provocation.

You couldn't help the instinctive tremor that skated down your spine at the sheer predatory undercurrent suddenly charging the air between them. It was almost as if some unspoken gauntlet had been thrown - two apex predators silently squaring off to determine pack hierarchy in your presence.

The thought should have been unsettling instead of sending fresh tendrils of yearning licking through your veins. But you found yourself utterly transfixed, pinned between their uncompromising physicality and slowly circling intensity.

Atsumu's palm settled over your lower abdomen once more in a scorching, proprietary caress, his solid heat all but searing against your back through the thin layers between you. "Think I got a pretty big problem with you talking to our girl like that, runnin' that filthy mouth of yours," he practically purred in that honeyed rasp yet underscored by sharpened steel.

His grip tightened imperceptibly, forcing you to crane your neck and meet the blazing molten regard he turned on you next. For a suspended moment, the whole world seemed to narrow to the three of you coiled in shared tension and intoxicating promise.

"Don't listen to him, pretty thing," Atsumu breathed against the fragile shell of your ear, words whiskey-rough yet somehow dripping with honeyed persuasion too. "Ain't nobody gonna touch you but me and 'Samu from now on, you hear? Say it and I'll prove just how good we aim to treat our sweet girl..."

A shuddery exhalation stuttered from your parted lips before you could stop it - an exquisite combination of delirious anticipation and dawning unease. Despite the electric promise and undisguised possession dripping from his every word, you still couldn't shake the feeling of teetering on a precipice overlooking unknown depths.

Which was likely why Osamu chose that highly-charged moment to snake one broad palm around the elegant curve of your hip, anchoring you to him with blatant ownership and disrupting his twin's attempt at dominance.

"Don't go pullin' that syrupy sweet-talkin' bullshit on our girl," Osamu cut in with a rumbling growl that seemed to vibrate straight through your intertwined forms. "She knows damn well I've had first claim on that pretty mouth for years, don't you babydoll?"

His quicksilver stare pinned you with laser-focused intensity despite directing his sneering challenge towards Atsumu. You instinctively shivered at the knowledge of what searing, heart-stoppingly explicit confessions were poised to tumble from those chiseled lips once more.

"In fact," Osamu drawled in that hoarse, midnight timbre that snagged like barbs in your soul, "I seem to recall tellin' you every lil' fantasy I used to have about slippin' this fat di—"

Atsumu's snarling interruption shattered the baiting quiet before Osamu could unleash the full depraved scope of where his thoughts strayed. "Like I told ya' to shut that lying mouth before, asshole!"

His prominent adam's apple bobbed convulsively as he visibly fought for control, taut forearms tensing where they encircled you from behind. You felt utterly caught between them, riding the cresting tempest of their volatile struggle for dominance.

The only sounds were the harsh, intermingled rasp of three sets of harsh breaths for numerous charged moments. Then Atsumu shifted behind you, radiating menace and possession as he pressed a series of searing, bruising kisses along the fragile arch of your throat in stark counterpoint to his next vicious whisper.

"Bet that pretty brain of yours never even imagined the kinda racy fuckin' dreams you started hauntin' my sleep with, huh babygirl? Me picturin' every lush inch of you spread out an' beggin' while I finally got to bury this cock so deep inside—"

The filthy, blunt confession dangled unfinished in the simmering ether between you like a taunting lure. Atsumu pulled back far enough to pin you under the crucible of his searing, animalistic stare - all mottled color high on his chiseled cheekbones and wild, blazing hunger crackling behind rusted amber irises.

You remained utterly suspended between them, trembling full-bodied from the force of his carnal words yet rooted in place by Osamu's defiant, unbreakable tether at your hip. Their dynamic gravitated between bitter rivalry and seamless tandem in a way that rendered you thoroughly disoriented.

Then Atsumu seized your nape in a shockingly authoritative grip, wrenching your mouth up to fiercely clash with his in a punishing, rapacious kiss filled with teeth and tangling desperation. You moaned into the blistering possession unbidden, overcome with dizzying sensation and relief at finally sating this long-simmered craving for his claiming mastery.

Just as quickly, the rough ecstasy was torn away as Osamu snarled and wrenched you bodily in the opposite direction to crush his lips against yours in an equally all-consuming brand of furious passion.

You gasped into the blazing tangle of their frenzied kiss and groping hands as if drowning, only to be dragged up for desperate air once more by the demanding slant of Atsumu's mouth. His broad palms branded searing trails down the shivery planes of your back and lower, clenching handfuls of yielding flesh in a way that made you whimper against his lips.

"A-Atsumu..." you managed to stutter dazedly when he finally allowed a scant exhale. "Osamu, I...I can't—"

The rest of your plaintive entreaty shattered into silence as Osamu seized you by the hips, spinning you in one sinuous motion to crash against his solid wall of heat. You barely registered the low, guttural rumble that shuddered through his sculpted chest before he was devouring the gasping shape of your lips with reinvigorated fervor.

Your hands scrabbled across the flexing hardscape of his back, desperately trying to anchor yourself in the midst of their warring, rapacious possession. This only seemed to inflame Osamu's intensity as his calloused palms roamed lower in blatant defiance, cupping and squeezing with fiery possession until you keened into his demanding kiss.

"You hear that, 'Tsumu?" he panted against your swollen mouth in a gore-edged rasp. "She wants us both so goddamn bad, don't even try to pretend otherwise..."

His next words devolved into a filthy growl as Atsumu's brutally possessive grip abruptly wrenched you backwards once more, leaving you floundering in their lust-drunken vortex. Before you could even gasp his name in feverish entreaty, Atsumu's mouth slanted over yours in another thorough plundering.

You could only keen his name in wanton surrender, hands fisting in the soft strands at his nape as you gave yourself over to his merciless onslaught. Atsumu growled in primal victory, his clever tongue delving to taste every salacious inch as if branding you, ensuring you never again forgot whose mastery you belonged to.

Osamu rumbled a provocative scoff at this display, clearly relishing in igniting his twin's carnal possessiveness. The maddening temptation of his warm, sinewy form crowded against your back, reminders of his own dominion in the form of slow, smoldering caresses along your waist and lower.

When Atsumu at last tore his mouth from yours, you could barely draw coherent breath. Gazing up at his leonine features awash in a haze of lusty triumph, you finally found the threads of your voice.

"Please..." you breathed in trembling entreaty. "I don't want to choose between you. I need...I need you both so bad, can't you see that?"

The naked nakedness of your confession seemed to strike them both like physical blows. For a suspended moment, the only sounds were your shared, harsh respirations intermingling in the charged air. Then...the subtlest nod of mutual, silent understanding passed between the twins over your shoulders.

You registered the taut lines of Atsumu's body relaxing fractionally as Osamu pressed a series of lingering, ardent kisses along the fragile arch of your throat and jaw in a searing trail. When you craned your neck instinctively to allow him greater access, you caught a glimpse of their shared look of simmering revelation.

"Think we're finally seein' it too, babygirl," Atsumu rumbled in a tone gone lower and thicker with dawning wonder. You shivered at the gravelly timbre that never failed to lick molten trails straight between your thighs. "You were always meant to be ours...for both of us to treasure and ruin in the way only we can."

Osamu's deep, gravelly hum of agreement seemed to reverberate through your very core where you were pressed flush against the solid wall of his chest. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, the scorching brand of his large, calloused hands as they mapped every sumptuous curve in a series of leisurely caresses.

From behind, Atsumu crowded in closer still - the searing wall of his equally muscular frame enveloping you in a way that should have felt confining yet only amplified your yearning. The crisp, masculine scent of him surrounded you in an intoxicating wave, making your head swim dizzily.

"Fuck, you feel so goddamn good against me like this, babygirl," Osamu rasped in a whiskey-rough timbre against the fragile shell of your ear. "Like you were made to fit perfectly in our arms...in our bed."

A violent shudder rippled through you at the naked possession and unabashed promise lacing his deep voice. Before you could formulate a breathless reply, Atsumu's low rumble from behind undercut the intimate moment with a flash of his typical aggravating bravado.

"Yeah, yeah, don't get too fuckin' cocky," he growled, the verbal jab neutered by the undulation of his hips subtly grinding against the swell of your backside. "Seems like you're forgettin' we agreed to share what's ours now."

You whimpered at the unmistakable hardness insistently nudging against you - a bluntly carnal reminder of the delirious temptation they collectively represented. Your head lolled back in helpless abandon to rest against the sturdy juncture of Atsumu's shoulder and throat. Osamu's pewter stare remained riveted to your features, silver irises blazing like polished agate as you blinked back at him in a haze of lust and wonder.

"Don't go gettin' distracted already," he chided in a murmured tone thick with promise, adjusting his secure grip to pull your lower bodies into even more insistent alignment. "We got one very important question to settle first with our sweet girl here..."

Osamu angled his chiseled jaw until his hooded gaze pinned you beneath the potent smolder of its focus, holding you utterly transfixed. His tongue slicked out to wet his lower lip in an unconscious, innocently provocative gesture that had your mouth going cotton-dry.

"Ya want this, pretty thing?" he rasped in that gravel-rough timbre that never failed to lick straight between your thighs with unerring accuracy. "Ya really want 'Tsumu and me to go ahead and take what's ours...make you completely ours at long last?"

You could only mutely nod at first, hypnotized by the searing glint of sin-edged yearning blazing behind his steady regard. But then Atsumu's low, filthy chuckle gusted across the back of your neck, raising delicious gooseflesh in its wake. His clever fingers traced idle, illicit patterns from your hip up towards the vee between your breasts in a teasing cadence that had your thundering pulse kick into a staccato gallop.

"That ain't gonna cut it, babygirl," he tutted in mock reproval. "Need to hear ya' say it... Tell us how goddamn bad you wantin' those pretty lips stretched wide around both our cocks."

The crude, shockingly vulgar words should have appalled you. Should have registered as too far, too depraved to be uttered in civilized company. But they only seemed to detonate a white-hot geyser of molten arousal low in your belly. A helpless, needy noise slipped free before you could stifle it.

"Yes!" you rasped in a desperate, thready exhalation. "Gods, yes...I need you both so badly my entire b-body aches for it."

Osamu swallowed the rest of your fevered confession in a branding, soulsearing kiss that curled your very toes. His questing tongue swept between your lips in a sinuous glide of satin against satin to taste and savor every keen and mewl you willingly offered up.

From behind, you could feel Atsumu's own self-satisfied growl of rapture reverberating against the tender knobs of your spine as his deft fingers trailed an invisible path down your sides to span your hips in a scorching grip. Then he was bodily grinding the rigid length of his cock against the swell of your ass in undisguised possession and dark promise.

You nearly unraveled from the exquisite sensation, arousal detonating in an aching conflagration that very nearly whited out your vision. Atsumu swallowed your garbled sob of sheer need with another merciless slant of his sinful lips against the frantically thundering pulse at the juncture of your throat. The leisurely study of his wicked tongue and teeth left you reeling.

"Soon, babygirl," he purred against your sensitized skin between open-mouthed, branding caresses. "Gonna make you sing so fuckin' pretty for us soon..."

Then Atsumu suddenly spun you to face him, gripping you with inexorable command. You whimpered at the abrupt loss of Osamu's heated imprint, seeking him instinctively even as your stepbrother hauled you against his hulking frame once more. Atsumu's blazing stare pinned you with dark promise for a suspended beat, thumb drifting up to trace the swollen-slick curve of your lower lip.

That searing look of untempered possession flickered briefly to Osamu before returning to scorch you. "'Samu an' I both aim to take our time and treat you right, sweet thing. Make sure you're nice and ready for the main event..."

Your mind swirled in a lust-drunken haze, trying desperately to reconcile his sudden shift into something almost...protective. His russet irises burned into yours with fierce possessiveness as he slowly, deliberately dipped his calloused fingers beneath the elastic band of your lacy panties.

"Wh-What’s the main event?" you managed to stutter, though your breath had turned choppy and erratic.

Osamu's warm, rough palm encircled your nape, drawing your attention back to his own uncompromising expression. Something akin to dark male appreciation simmered behind his hooded eyes, though a hint of concern threaded his next husky utterance.

"What my idiot twin is tryin' to say is, we're both damn well-endowed. Don't want it hurtin' when we fuck this pretty little pussy of yours so good. Gonna stretch and get ya' ready, alright babydoll?"

Your brain short-circuited, unable to process the sheer, carnal scope of the picture his words conjured. Before you could formulate a reply, Osamu's chiseled lips captured yours in another toe-curling, soul-baring kiss. Atsumu's own hands occupied themselves with slowly, meticulously peeling your panties down the curve of your thighs until they pooled around your ankles.

"That's it, sweet girl, just give yourself over to us," he growled against the shell of your ear, deft fingers dancing lightly across the exposed skin of your hips. "'Samu and I got ya'..."

Then he was dragging you backwards into the solid wall of his furnace-hot chest, calloused hands skimming reverently along the silken skin of your thighs. You could only moan into Osamu's plundering kiss as those clever fingers danced higher, trailing a searing path through the soaked folds of your aching sex.

Atsumu's rasping, approving chuckle seemed to vibrate right through you, his broad palms sliding down the flare of your hips and inner thighs in an excruciating tease. You bucked instinctively against his torturous touch, only for him to wrench your hips back against the unyielding steel of his own.

"So fucking wet for us already, aren't ya'?" he crooned darkly in that honey-thick rasp against the back of your neck. "Can't wait to see just how much you can take..."

The blunt edge of his thumb slid past the soaked folds of your outer labia, dragging the wetness towards your clit in a slow, maddening circle. You moaned into the devouring sweep of Osamu's mouth at the sensation, trembling full-bodied as the ache intensified low in your belly.

"Such a pretty little mess we got," Osamu crooned in a throaty murmur.

His fingers threaded through the strands of your hair, gently but firmly anchoring your head in place. He broke the kiss just enough to speak, the words hot against your parted lips. "Open that pretty mouth and suck on these for me, babydoll."

Your lashes fluttered in a haze of delirium, but you complied automatically. His fingers slipped past your lips and teeth, the tang of his salty skin exploding on your taste buds. Atsumu's deep, filthy chuckle rumbled against the delicate knobs of your spine as his hand continued its lazy, tormenting ministrations.

"You heard our girl," he practically purred in a voice gone impossibly deeper with want. "She's hungry for it. Bet she can't wait to take her fill..."

Your head fell back in helpless abandon, lolling against his sculpted chest. Osamu's eyes darkened with undisguised desire as his fingers began to gently pump in and out of your mouth, the rough pads stroking the silken contours in a mimicry of a far more intimate act.

You whimpered around the thick digits, sucking eagerly until they were coated in saliva. When he pulled them away, glistening trails of liquid linked them to your parted lips like gossamer threads.

"Good girl," he breathed with unmistakable approval, a roguish grin splitting his lips as he caught his lower lip between his teeth. "Now why don't ya' go ahead and show 'Tsumu how sweet you can be."

Your stomach clenched in a wave of dizzying anticipation, gaze flicking uncertainly to the twin at your back. He must have caught the subtle motion, because the next instant, his palm was tilting your chin to the side and his mouth was devouring yours in a claiming kiss that left you utterly senseless.

"C'mon, babygirl, let 'Samu watch just how much you want me," he murmured against your swollen mouth, the words barely registering in your lust-drunk haze.

You could feel the hard press of his erection nudging against the swell of your ass even through the denim barrier separating you. Then the heat of his hands was lifting you, spreading the yielding globes of your thighs to bracket his own. You instinctively clung to his biceps for balance, the muscles flexing deliciously under your grip.

"Oh, gods," you whimpered, the raw, hoarse plea barely recognizable.

He'd dragged the hem of your dress higher until the fabric bunched around your waist, leaving you completely exposed. You felt his hands cup and squeeze the supple flesh, the sensation amplified tenfold without the shielding barrier.

Atsumu's lips curved into a leonine smile of pure masculine satisfaction against the curve of your throat. "There's a good girl," he rasped, his breath gusting warmly against the rapidly beating pulse point there.

Osamu's pewter gaze remained riveted to where your bodies were molded together, his own arousal evident in the rigid jut of his jeans and the way he'd unconsciously wet his lower lip. He was still close enough that the intoxicating scent of his cologne seemed to saturate the air around you, mingling with Atsumu's clean, woodsy musk.

"Think we can do better than good, 'Tsumu," he drawled, voice gone hoarse and guttural with want. "I'm thinkin' our girl here wants us to show her exactly what kinda pleasure she's in for."

You watched as Osamu sank down on his knees before you, the position leaving him eye-level with the most vulnerable part of you. You could only shudder at the sensation as his warm, rough palms settled on the backs of your thighs, the coarse brush of his stubble a heady contrast as he leaned forward.

"Hold her still for me," Osamu growled in a voice gone impossibly deeper, and you were certain that you'd combust.

"With fuckin' pleasure," Atsumu muttered, the words a sultry rumble against your neck.

Then the hard ridge of his cock was insistently grinding against the exposed flesh of your backside, his grip anchoring you in place for his twin's ministrations. The air punched from your lungs in a harsh gasp as Osamu's hot, slick tongue finally swiped a sinuous line between the folds of your core.

You could feel the vibration of his answering groan all the way through the tender walls, the sensation heightened by the calloused pads of his thumbs dragging along the seam where your thighs met. His dark head angled slightly, the tip of his nose nudging at the swollen bundle of nerves above.

"Fuck, you're sweet," Osamu groaned, his eyes flicking up to pierce yours with molten intensity.

You could only whimper, head spinning in an erotic haze as he continued his thorough exploration. He seemed to revel in every gasp and shudder that wracked your frame, every involuntary jerk and twitch against his questing tongue.

"How's she taste?" Atsumu asked in a dark rumble, his grip tightening fractionally on your thighs.

"Like fuckin' heaven," Osamu replied without hesitation, his tongue continuing its languid sweep along the length of your slit.

He punctuated the words with a deliberate swipe of his tongue around the entrance, probing slightly before repeating the motion. The slow, decadent pace was driving you mad with want, but Atsumu's implacable hold prevented any desperate bucking.

"Don't get too fuckin' smug now, brother. Remember, I get to go first," Atsumu murmured against the back of your neck, the words almost teasing.

He shifted his stance ever so slightly, dragging his clothed erection along the seam of your ass in a deliberate thrust. Your stomach clenched in an aching spiral at the sensation, even through the layers of fabric.

"G-god," you stuttered, the word breaking on a sharp inhale as Osamu's tongue delved deeper, the tip swirling along the sensitive edges.

"Don't go forgettin' to be a good girl and thank him properly, now," Atsumu taunted, his fingers digging deliciously into the tender flesh of your thighs. He released his hold just long enough to trail one hand lower, pulling his hand back with a sharp slap that was aimed directly at your sex.

"Thank you," you cried out, the words broken by a sob.

Osamu's answering chuckle vibrated against your core, sending another bolt of heat straight to the liquid, throbbing ache building low in your belly. When his tongue plunged even deeper, the slick muscle stroking along your walls in a devastating rhythm, you arched mindlessly against Atsumu's immovable grip.

"You can do better than that, babygirl," he admonished, his voice gone thick and guttural. His hand hovered threateningly, poised for another teasing spank. "He's doing such a good job, ain't he? Go ahead and show 'Samu just how much ya' appreciate his tongue fuckin' that greedy pussy of yours."

You could only nod, the movement frantic. The next instant, three of his fingers came down in a punishing strike directly on your clit. The sensation sent a lightning bolt of sensation careening straight up your spine, the pressure coiling tighter, more intense.

"Thank you! Tha-ahh...thank you so much, Osamu," you managed to stutter.

"You're welcome, sweetheart," he rumbled, his lips brushing along the sensitive nub at the apex of your sex. The stubble of his jaw abraded the tender flesh in a maddening glide that only further inflamed the liquid, molten need.

His silver eyes gleamed wickedly in the dim light of the room, the pupils blown wide with undisguised carnal desire. "You gonna cum for us like this, sweet thing? Or d'you need somethin' a little thicker inside to take the edge off?"

You could only moan at his brazen inquiry, the sound bordering on a whimper. Then he was sucking your clit between his lips and flicking the swollen bud with the tip of his tongue, his fingers curling upwards to stroke the sensitive front wall of your sex.

"F-Fuck, 'Samu, I'm gonna-"

Your sentence was broken off by a keening cry as the pressure coiling low in your belly abruptly detonated, shattering through you with the force of a tidal wave. You were dimly aware of the hot liquid that gushed out in a flood, coating Osamu's waiting mouth and chin. He merely lapped at you like a starving man, a guttural groan rumbling through him.

"Shit," Atsumu swore, his own hips jerking forward as his cock ground against the exposed swell of your ass. His free hand was palming his own length in a desperate rhythm, the other maintaining its bruising grip on your hip. "Didn't think ya'd squirt like that, babygirl. That's a damn sight to behold..."

You were too far gone, caught in the throes of orgasm to even attempt a reply. Instead, you slumped back against Atsumu, grateful for his steady support as the aftershocks of pleasure rippled through your trembling frame. Osamu was still lapping gently at the swollen, soaked folds, the sensation almost too much.

"Please," you whimpered, the word bordering on a sob. "Too much..."

"Just cleanin' ya' up, pretty thing," he crooned in a hoarse voice, his hooded stare lifting to pin you. His tongue swiped the glistening sheen from his lips and chin, savoring the taste. "Fuck, you're gorgeous like this...all soft and pliant, fucked out."

Then Osamu was rising in one fluid motion, the movement bringing his broad body into closer alignment with yours. The muscled expanse of his torso was a solid wall before you, the defined ridges and dips tempting you to lean forward and explore. He caught your wrists in his grip, drawing you close and guiding them down to the waistband of his jeans.

"Wanna touch me, babydoll?" he rasped, the gravel-rough timbre edged with sinful promise.

Your fingers trembled as they worked at the buckle, then slid the zipper down until the straining ridge of his arousal was visible, a damp spot visible where the tip was tenting the fabric of his boxers. You sucked in a shaky breath, gaze darting up to meet his. Osamu's pewter eyes had gone dark with need, the normally silver irises now the color of storm clouds.

"Go on," he urged, the words a gruff growl. "Wrap those pretty fingers around my cock and give him a nice, hard squeeze."

Your pulse hammered erratically, the tempo ratcheting higher as you slipped your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. They wrapped around his shaft, the skin scorchingly hot and satin-soft. Your fingertips skimmed along the vein that ran from root to tip, exploring the unfamiliar terrain with tentative strokes.

The muscles beneath his abdomen contracted sharply, a groan punching free from his lips. Then Atsumu was hauling you backwards against his own unyielding frame, his calloused palm sliding along the flare of your hips and the curve of your stomach.

"Don't forget about me, sweet girl," he growled, his voice thick and husky. "'Samu's got you warmed up and nice an' ready to take our cocks. Time for you to put that pretty mouth of yours to good use, don't ya' think?"

You could feel the heavy length of him nestled against the seam of your backside, the sensation almost dizzying. Your own fingers were still wrapped around Osamu's thick shaft, and it gave a slight jump as your thumb stroked along the silken crown.

Atsumu rose to his full height, forcing you to your knees between them. His hands tangled in your hair, fisting the strands in a loose grip as he tilted your face upwards. "Don't know if you're ready for 'Samu to fuck that throat just yet, so I'll be a gentleman and go first."

Your lashes fluttered closed at the image, arousal sparking low in your belly once more. Then Atsumu was pressing his thumb against your bottom lip, parting them to slip inside. You automatically opened for him, swirling your tongue around the salty digit as you stared up at him with hooded eyes.

"Yeah, there's a good girl," he crooned, the praise sending another wave of heat through your veins.

His grip tightened fractionally, guiding you to the open fly of his jeans. You yelped in surprise as his cock sprang free andslapped against your cheek, the tip glistening and flushed. Atsumu chuckled darkly at the startled noise, the sound reverberating against the hollows of your ribcage.

"Don't worry, sweet thing. It's not gonna bite," he teased.

His grip remained firm on the back of your head, angling you in place. You could see the way his muscles contracted, his free hand wrapping around the thick length and giving it a lazy stroke. Then the tip was grazing your lips, smearing the salty precum.

"Open," he ordered, the word a throaty command.

You complied immediately, the soft, wet heat of your mouth enveloping the velvety steel of his shaft. His head fell back in a groan, the sound a mix of relief and agonized pleasure. The hands on the back of your head kept you pinned as he began to rock his hips slowly, fucking into your mouth with careful thrusts.

Meanwhile Osamu had dropped to his knees once more, his deft fingers hooking the delicate strap of your dress and yanking the fabric down your shoulder. He peppered a line of hot, open-mouthed kisses along the newly exposed flesh, teeth nipping lightly at the tender skin.

"You have such pretty tits, babydoll," he murmured, his words fanning the exposed skin.

Then his hands were cupping them, the roughened pads of his thumbs circling the nipples into aching points. Your breath hissed through your teeth, a sharp sting of pleasure-pain. He seemed to take that as encouragement, repeating the motion before dragging the pad across the erect peaks in a gentle tug.

Atsumu's grip was anchored in the back of your hair, keeping you from jerking away at the sensation. Instead, he took advantage of the moment to thrust deeper, the tip nudging the back of your throat. You couldn't help but choke a little, your gag reflex triggering as the muscles contracted around him.

"There ya' go," he groaned, the words guttural and raw. "Just relax and let me use that throat..."

You did your best to comply, letting the tension in your shoulders ease as he continued to drive deeper, faster. His fingers were gripping the sides of your skull, his gaze burning into you as he fucked into the wet, soft cavern.

Osamu's mouth latched onto one nipple, suckling it with firm, demanding pulls. His other hand kneaded the opposite breast, rolling the sensitive flesh between his thumb and forefinger. The sensations were all building, tightening the coil of desire deep within your belly until you were trembling beneath the onslaught.

"Fuck, she's good at this," Atsumu bit out, the words a ragged gasp. "'Samu, she's got the sweetest mouth. You have to try-"

The sentence broke off as he shuddered almost violently, his cock throbbing on the precipice. He yanked you off his length in a rough jerk, a thin thread of saliva still connecting your swollen, parted lips to the flushed tip. You could only watch as his fist wrapped around the base, stroking once, twice, and then he was spurting in white ropes across your face.

You moaned at the sensation, the warm liquid splashing against your lips and cheeks. It dripped down in pearlescent rivulets, streaking across the slope of your breasts. Osamu's own cock pulsed beneath his touch, his eyes burning dark and molten as they stared down at the debauched sight.

"Goddamn, that's a fuckin' sight," he rasped, the words strained.

Atsumu gave himself a few final strokes, the motions milking the last vestiges of pleasure. When he released his hold on his cock, it was to drag a fingertip along the trail of cum, then press it past your lips. You sucked eagerly, swirling your tongue around the salty digit and humming at the flavor.

"Such a dirty girl," Atsumu growled, his free hand fisting in your hair. "'Samu, how's about we take this to the bed?"

You watched as the twin in question nodded, the action almost frantic. The next instant, you were being hauled to your feet and guided towards the massive king-size bed dominating the room. Your limbs felt boneless, and you were grateful for the guiding touch of their hands.

"How're we gonna do this?" Atsumu asked, directing the question towards his brother.

"Why don’t we ask her?" Osamu responded, his fingers trailing along the delicate curve of your shoulder. "What do ya' want, babydoll?"

The question threw you for a loop. It had never even occurred to you that you'd be able to choose, or that the twins would even care enough to offer you the opportunity. Your gaze flicked uncertainly between the two, a flush warming your cheeks as the words left you.

"I want...both. At the same time," you murmured, the words almost too soft to be heard.

You could see the way Atsumu's cock twitched at the statement, already hardening again. It was an impressive feat, given that he'd only just orgasmed a few moments prior. He glanced at his twin, the smirk playing about his lips clearly conveying the sentiment 'so we can share, after all.'

"Both, huh? Ya' wanna take our cocks at the same time?" Osamu clarified, his tone thoughtful. "We agreed that 'Tsumu would get your pussy first, since I got to eat it. What about that sweet ass of yours? Think you're ready for that?"

"N-No, I meant…I want you both in the same hole." You could feel the heat creeping into your cheeks as you stuttered over the words.

The silence stretched between the three of you, broken only by the soft sounds of your breathing. You could feel the way your heart hammered against the cage of your ribs, the blood roaring in your ears as the reality of what you'd said began to sink in.

Atsumu was the first to speak, his voice a hoarse rasp. "Did ya' just say what I think you did?"

"Are you sure, sweetheart?" Osamu asked at the same time, his brows knitting in concern. "That's a lotta cock to take. Don't wanna hurt you."

Your gaze darted between the two of them, and the words slipped out before you could even register them.

"I trust you," you said, and realized it was the truth. "I can take it."

The next instant, the world was tilting on its axis as Osamu tossed you effortlessly onto the bed. You landed with a bounce, the impact jarring you slightly. Then his weight was blanketing you, his hips bracketing your own and his cock a scorching brand between your legs.

"That's right, ya' can," he growled, the words a dark promise. "Just lie back and let us take care of ya'."

Atsumu had already positioned himself on the bed, his hand pumping along the shaft of his length in a lazy rhythm. His golden eyes gleamed with undisguised lust as he watched his twin grinding against you. The head of his cock nudged teasingly at the entrance, and a thrill shot straight up your spine.

"I want to make this good for you," Osamu murmured, his voice a low rumble against the shell of your ear. "So tell me if anythin' starts to hurt. Got it?"

He pressed forward, and the swollen, slick folds parted around the thick length. It wasn't nearly as painful as you'd anticipated, the wetness easing the slide. A shudder wracked his frame, a harsh groan punching from his lips as he sank deeper.

"Gods, you're so fuckin' tight," he bit out.

He didn't stop until the root was flush against the curve of your sex, his hips slotted neatly against your own. You could only arch mindlessly beneath him, the sensation of being so full unlike anything you'd ever experienced. Your inner walls clenched around the intrusion, and Osamu's answering hiss told you that the sensation was pleasurable.

One iron-corded arm wrapped around your waist, and you felt him lift you slightly. You were practically straddling his thighs, the angle causing him to slip even deeper. Atsumu shifted into place behind you, his hands cupping the generous swell of your ass and spreading the cheeks.

"Fuck, that's a pretty sight," he groaned, his fingers digging into the supple flesh.

Osamu began to rock against you, the shallow thrusts setting your nerve endings aflame. You could only whimper helplessly, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders for purchase. Your hips jerked as a particularly strong bolt of sensation rocketed through your core.

"Gonna need ya' to relax, babydoll," Osamu rasped, his hands anchoring you firmly in place. "Just a little more, and then 'Tsumu will be joinin' the fun. Be a good girl for us, now."

You forced the tension from your limbs, allowing him to move freely. The next instant, the blunt tip of Atsumu's cock was probing at the same entrance, his length sliding alongside his brother's. Your mouth dropped open in a silent scream as the pain-pleasure mingled, the sensation overwhelming.

"You're so goddamn tight," he ground out, the words grating and raw.

Atsumu didn't give you a chance to respond, merely pushed his hips forward with a firm thrust. He was met with slight resistance, the muscles clenching tightly around the combined girth. Then his cock was bottoming out, the sensation nearly sending you spiraling over the edge.

"Shit," Osamu swore, his head falling back. His throat bobbed as he swallowed convulsively, a fine tremor running through his muscular frame. "This is...holy fuck."

Atsumu made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a moan, the low, guttural noise reverberating through you. He rocked his hips experimentally, the motion sending sparks of heat licking along your veins. You were stretched taut, the dual sensation of having them both inside bordering on too much.

"How is she?" Atsumu bit out, his gaze meeting his twin's over the top of your head.

"Are you okay, sweetheart? Feel so damn good around my cock," Osamu groaned.

Your only response was a moan, the wordless noise a benediction. He took it as a cue to start moving, the shallow thrusts driving a little deeper, harder. Atsumu's own cock was pulsing with the need for release, and he mirrored his brother's movements, timing his pace to match.

They were like two cogs in a well-oiled machine, their motions a seamless tandem. Each thrust sent a wave of sensation crashing through your core, the coil of tension ratcheting tighter and tighter. Your vision had gone hazy, the world blurring at the edges.

"Fuck, I'm gonna cum," Atsumu groaned, his fingers digging into the generous curve of your ass.

"Hold on," Osamu gritted out. His grip shifted, his hands lifting you easily by the backs of your thighs. You were practically bent in half, and the new angle allowed them to reach even deeper. "Gonna give it to her just like this, 'Tsumu. Give her every last inch and fuck her nice and hard."

Then the twins were pounding into you with merciless, punishing thrusts, their cocks dragging against the sensitive inner walls. Your fingers dug into the taut muscles of Osamu's shoulders, and the sharp bite of your nails had him groaning low in his throat.

"Gods, she's tightening up on me," Atsumu hissed, his words ragged and broken. "Cumming...gonna cum!"

His hips snapped forward one last time, and the pressure detonated in a blinding supernova. His cock gave a violent twitch as he came, a low groan tearing from his lips. You could feel the hot gush of his seed, and the sensation was enough to send you plummeting into your own release.

Osamu managed to thrust a few more times before his own body was succumbing, his hips grinding flush against the curve of your ass as he spilled deep inside. The world around you faded to black, the pleasure-pain of it all leaving you dizzy and weak.

It took several minutes for the three of you to come down, your chests heaving with exertion. You could still feel the warmth of the twins' bodies surrounding you, and Osamu's lips were trailing along the curve of your neck. Atsumu's face was nestled into the side of your throat, and he nuzzled the skin there lazily.

"Fuck, that was intense," he mumbled, the words muffled.

Osamu nodded, and the motion caused his hair to brush against your cheek. "I wasn't expectin' her to take both of us like that."

"Think she can go again?" Atsumu asked, lifting his face to look at his brother. "I don’t think we convinced her to not go out with any more of those losers."

"Maybe she just needs a little more convincin'," Osamu drawled, his mouth curling into a feral smirk.

You could only whimper softly at the prospect, the sound a mixture of desire and exhaustion. Then Atsumu was sliding his hands along the supple swell of your hips, his thumb dipping between the crease of your ass. You jumped at the unexpected contact, the reaction earning a chuckle from him.

"Easy there, sweet girl," he crooned, the husky edge returning to his voice. "We're gonna have so much fun together."

[st4rymoon]

✧𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬✧

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟐𝟏: 𝐓𝐮𝐭𝐨𝐫 | 18+ | 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭 [sorry for the hold up I’ve been so busy this month 😭 it’s not even October anymore but just pretend like it is]

𝐌𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐎’𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings: switch Miguel, p in v, unprotected sex, manhandling, size kink, Miguel is a slut for thighs, slight argument with reader and her mom, subby Miguel, nerd Miguel, teasing, language, pet names, soft dom miguel, flirting, sexual tension

𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫-𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

You really hate your mom right now. You told her about your struggle in chemistry and now here you were. Apparently to her, her best friends brother happens to be an expert in everything.

“You know he can be some sort of killer right? You just GAVE HIM MY ADDRESS?” You yelled into the phone. “Yeah yeah, I’ve met him hundreds of times! You remember him don’t you?” She sighed.

“That doesn’t mean you should give him my damn address mom. What the hell are you thinking” you seethed.

You remember him somewhat, well when you saw him last you were in your early teens. He was just a year older than you and annoyed the hell out of you. “Don’t be so dramatic. He’ll be there in 30” your mom ended the phone call leaving you in anger.

What in her right mind would lead her to giving him your address? Maybe if you leave now you can make an excuse, Right? No. You know your mom would tease you about this if you left.

You fixed yourself up and sat on the couch, watching your usual binge worthy show while waiting for Einstein to show up at your front door.

You tensed as you heard a knock at the door. Looking through the peep hole, you could see the a broad chest with backpack straps on their back. God how tall is this guy?

You opened the door and see the once messy haired short teen you once knew now a complete behemoth of a man. His shirt hugging his thick arms and chest while some grey sweats hugged around his waist.

His glasses sat at the bridge of his nose, dark messy wavy hair, chiseled jaw, god he looked like a Greek god.

Miguel couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows slightly as he saw you, he definitely didn’t remember you like this either. His eyes instinctively moved to your plump thighs as your shorts rode up high. Your thigh high socks definitely didn’t help.

He cleared his throat in hopes to snap himself out of it but you caught yourself before he could “Miguel right?” You smiled. “Ye- yeah, yeah” he nodded “Your mom gave me your address? I told her it might be a little weird if I just showed up but she wouldn’t take no for an answer” he chuckled awkwardly.

“That sounds like my mother, if your busy and all you don’t need to worry about it”

“I don’t have anything going on, but hey I’m already here right? Might as well?” He joked. The atmosphere was tense but you couldn’t help but invite him in “come in” you smiled and gave him space to walk in.

Miguel’s eyes scanned through your apartment, clean and tidy which he liked “So you’re struggling with Chem right?” He hummed as he turned back to look at you.

His breath hitched as he saw you bend down to get a few waters from the mini-fridge. Your ass was in perfect display as the flimsy white socks hugged the back of your thighs. His eyes flew down to his feet as you stood up and walked towards him.

You were unaware of his eyes lingering on you. You sat besides him, as you pulled out some of your work. “I’m struggling with these conversions” you sighed as you stared down at your insufferable homework.

When you looked up at Miguel you swear you could’ve jumped onto him and kissed him.

He was staring down at you, his eyes already on yours as he nodded. His body slumped slight towards you, close enough to feel how warm he was “What’s the thing that’s confusing?” He hummed.

You stuttered as you explained it to him. He nodded and started his teaching. You didn’t know how long you were studying, it flew by surprisingly fast and helped the tension disappear.

“I need a break” you whined as you slammed the book in annoyance “I think you deserved one” Miguel laughed as he placed the books back onto the table.

“How have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen you in a while” you smiled, sitting on your thighs now and body completely facing him. “I- I’ve been good. A lot of studying per usual”

“How about you? You definitely aren’t the same person I remember” Miguel joked “stressed as always and same here, I definitely didn’t expect this new you. I mean I remember the annoying freshman Miguel” you teased.

“New me?” He chuckled “I mean you grew like 10 ft and look like a damn super hero” you chuckled. Miguel felt himself heat up at your compliment. Surprisingly, he didn’t get many.

Maybe it was because he was a hermit most of the time but it took him by surprise “Thanks” he nervously chuckled as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. His eyes scanned your body in a way that told you what he was thinking, you chuckled as he cleared his throat once he noticed you looking at him.

“So you live near here?” You hummed, Miguel nodded with his mouth slightly agar as you curled up your thighs onto your chest, slightly exposing your plump cunt through your shorts. “Ye- yeah I do, about 20 minutes” he nodded.

“It’s a surprise that we go to the same university yet I’ve never seen you” Miguel try’s his best to not make things awkward. “Different schedule’s, the campus is huge” you teased.

You could read Miguel like a book, it was cute. He was nervous despite being older than you and the obvious size difference. He was fidgeting with his hands and trying his best to not eye fuck you right now.

“You’re really trying hard not to check me out” you chuckled as you noticed him glare down at your tits “I- no I wasn’t I was-“ he stuttered. “Don’t worry, you're a nice piece of eye candy too” you cooed.

You could see his chest rising with every breath, every inch you scooted the heavier he breathed “why are you so nervous?” You cooed. “Im not” miguel replied, his eyes his glued onto yours ”sure”

“Don’t be nervous, I don’t bite” you pouted. Miguel really hated you right now. He was a gentleman and always contained himself. But seeing you tease him in your pretty pjs was getting to him. “What a shame” he whispered as his finger softly ghosted past your leg.

You perked up at the comment, what a shame? You watched as his fingers slowly rubbed up your skin. A whine escaped your lips as he pulled back, his eyes shooting up at the sound.

Miguel couldn’t help it, he leaned and kissed you. He had no idea why he did it, he isn’t the type to do these things but fuck did it feel good.

You jumped onto his lap, both of you messily kissing each other after a few hours of seeing each other. Miguel was panting, whining in your mouth as he felt your tits pressing against him.

His thumbs circled your hips as he softly runts his hips up into you “you feel so good” Miguel hummed as your lips latched onto his neck.

Miguel’s eyes were trained on your thighs, he watched them grind onto his sides as he bucked ups hips up. He watched them giggle as he fucked himself into you fully clothed.

Miguel was putty in your hands, he whined and squirmed as you pressed your body against his, hands tangled into his hair as he sat back in ecstasy. “Please” he whispered, your head shot up “yeah?” You cooed.

“Take ‘em off” he quietly spoke as he tugged at your shorts. You chuckled, obeying his wishes and kicked off your shorts. Miguel let out a pathetic whine as he saw you weren’t wearing any panties, your pussy on full view as you straddled back onto him.

“You gonna take these off? Or am I doing all the work?” You mocked as you ran your hands up his thighs. He nodded dumbly as he held you up to his chest with his arm as the other tugged his sweats off.

You were practically salivating at the sight of his cock spring out of his tightly fitted boxers. He was huge in every fucking way. “You won’t be doing the work”’he whispered into your ear as he hugged you onto his chest.

His lips latched onto your neck as he buried himself under your chin, sloppily licking and biting his way up to kiss you. The kiss was messy and sloppy as he pulled you in for a kiss with a fist full of your hair in hand.

Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of his cock rubbing between your folds, sticky slick coating him as he watched your body reacting to his.

You let out a yelp as he man handled you onto your back, his hands instinctively lifting your plump thighs onto your chest as he watched your pussy glistening in slick. He let out an animalistic moan as his eyes trailed up your thighs and to your face.

Your glossy eyes staring up at him as the flimsy material of your socks hugged the back of your thighs and pussy in full view would make anyone in their right mind lose their mind.

“God you’re so fucking pretty” he hummed as he fisted his cock and his tip dragged it through your folds with a smile on his face.

You were taken back by the way he looked above you, the guy who was under your spell a few minute’s ago now towering over you like he’s about to ruin you was driving you crazy.

“Please” you whined as he continued his teasing. He smiled, one of his thick hands rubbing up your thigh as he nodded “no more teasing” he cooed.

You let out a whine as he pushed himself inside you, his fat tip already bullying it’s way inside. “oh fu- oh my!” You moaned as he seethed, his eyes watching the way you hugged his cock, your needy pussy taking him greedily.

“Fuckkk…. Ah- fu-“ he hummed as he began to thrust his hips, one hand holding your legs onto your chest and the holding himself up for a better position.

You gripped onto his hand as he picked up the pace, his hand wrapping to hold yours as he let your legs fall to his sides and give you a sloppy kiss. The both of you moaned into each other as he slammed into your pussy.

You bounced roughly along with his hard long slams, you sunk into the cushions as his body weight had you caged under him “m- m- ah Miguel” you dumbly spoke.

Miguel chuckled in response, watching you already cock drunk by a few thrusts “I know baby, feels so good huh?” He cooed. You squeeze his hand harder as he hooked your legs around his waist, giving him more leeway to slam into you.

The couch was creaking loudly as he pounded you into oblivion, the noise complaints you’d be getting later this week were the least of your worries as both your moans filled the living room.

“F- feels so good mhm ah- fuck” Miguel panted as he felt you pulsing around him. You scratched at his thick arms that held you in place, your face turning into his bicep that was pressed besides you.

You moaned into him as your orgasm filled all of your senses, you shook uncontrollably under him as he angled his hips up, curving his cock perfectly inside you.

He felt himself dumbly smiling as he watched you squirm and gushing under him. He loved how fucking small you looked right now. Your pretty little face buried in his arm as he fucked your pussy like a madman. “So fucking pretty” he huffed as he felt himself twitch inside you, his moans filling your ears as he fucked his loads inside you.

You moaned at the feeling of everything, you were so overwhelmed by pleasure. His cock buried inside you, his pretty moans filling your ears, and his warm body pressed closely onto yours.

Miguel almost crushed you as he orgasmed but before he could, his arm quickly flipped you over. He sunk into the cushion as he placed you above him. Your head fell onto his chest as he grunted in bliss, cock still buried in you.

You let out a sigh of relief as he pulled out softly, his hands running over your skin as if you were made of glass. He made sure to be gentle as he sat up, his sweaty body pressed onto yours as his hand ran down your hair “you ok?” He cooed.

You nodded with a smile on your face, his hand lifting your face and kissing you softly “so much for chemistry”

[bunnys-kisses]

hi! i was wondering if i could order pull-apart bread, sweet pastry and hot cross buns, with a side of cider and chocolate milk, for sub!max verstappen? nobody really writes anything about the reader body worshiping him and his softer body, which would be nice to reassure him about. id love to hold his love handles 🥹

thank you so much in advance if you’re up for doing this! 💙

bakery menu

submissions to the bakery are open! i'm accepting them all the time, even if they take a little while to get uploaded, i am constantly working on 'em! so thank you! and for this anon! hello!!! this is amazing, what the hell! i feel the same way, folks don't really write about it in fan fics (i've seen posts wax poetically about it though). so yes, this was awesome to write! thank you <333

pull-apart bread ("i love you") + sweet pastry ("i'll make it all better.") + hot cross buns ("don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up.") + cider (body worship) + chocolate milk (tenderness) served by max verstappen (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, sub!max, body worship, tender sex, cowgirl position, bondage, praise kink, dom!reader, insecurities, love & intimacy

it wasn't that you were going to fight people online over your boyfriend. it was a pointless endeavor to snap back at someone on twitter of all places! especially someone with a lando norris icon. but if you saw one more comment about your boyfriend's body online, you're going to kick something.

you loved max, that was why you were with him. but, you worried about him. underneath everything, there was soft center to him. and sometimes the wrong comment got through all the layers and right to the middle.

it just so happened the comments you hated the most were the ones about his body.

it was near the end of the off-season, you two had come back from a sunny trip to celebrate the time together. it left your poor boyfriend a little more pink than usual. especially around the shoulders, where he was shirtless most of the time.

you loved how he looked regardless. he was immensely strong in ways you couldn't fully grasp. you were always impressed by his ability to pick you up and kiss you. you believed that people had a skewed notion of what "hot" men should be built like. and you blamed it marvel movies and alpha male podcasts. max was not a dehydrated body builder. layered on top of the strength was a certain softness and made at the very least you drool at the sight of.

he was strong, but enjoyed food. he liked his sweets on weekends and a little extra at dinner. it didn't help with the constant weigh-ins and other measurements for formula one. so when you noticed his eyes on another cruel post online in response to a photo of him shirtless. you wanted to take that phone and toss it out the window.

you watched him turn off the screen and put the phone down on his chest. the room felt tense and your fingers went into his short hair. he tried to pull away, but with a tiny bit of force kept him close. you knew what he was thinking. just like everything else, max verstappen had crippling self-doubt.

"max. my love."

"yeah.." he said softly. the self-doubt that followed him like a shadow seemed to encrouch in his mind. you could tell even if you couldn't see his full expression.

you took the phone and placed it on the coffee table. you ran your fingers through his hair and looked down at him. fingers trailed down his jaw. "why don't we forget about that and go to the bedroom. "i'll make it all better."

you were in bed with him soon enough. he left his t-shirt and loose shorts on as your hands roamed his body. your lips on his neck, jaw and face. little unsaid promises of how handsome he was. "don't listen to them."

"what if they're right."

"when has a formula one fan ever been right about anything? you know some people online make ragebait. they're trying to get a rise out of other fans and cause in fighting."

"if i tried a little harder... i could look more like the others."

you made him look at you. his blue eyes seemed sad, like cloudy skies over a rocky shoreline. he couldn't meet your gaze, he was almost embarrassed. "max, look at me."

he made eye contact with you, "i could... if i tried."

you held his face a little tighter as he looked away. you said to him, "max, you are training all the time. you push yourself to limits that could kill many others. you work harder than a work horse with half the pay sometimes." you kissed the bridge of his nose, "i don't know who planted these ideas into your head." you had an idea, two names came to mind that made you frown. that was neither here nor there, "but, i love how you look."

his eyes shifted away from you. embarrassed. this entire thing felt embarrassing. he was insecure like a teenage girl at the moment because some random person online called him a stupid name.

"max. don't hide your face from me. i'd hate to have to tie you up." you said, trying to insert a joke to lighten the mood. you watched his demeanor shift and his eyes meet yours.

"would you.. tie me up? make me forget everything for a little bit?" he asked softly, his words almost tripped over one another. while most would've sought heavy therapy and an early retirement for their issues. max tried to cover them up, and sometimes that meant being your good boy.

"then tell me one thing, max."

"anything." he replied.

"say one nice thing about your appearance. anything. just one thing. and then i'll get what we need.' you promised, sealing it with a kiss on the cheek.

he swallowed, not knowing what to say. he shifted a little in his spot on the bed before he sighed. eventually he responded with, "my nose." he said, eyes on yours, "i like my nose. makes me stand out a little more."

you smiled a little bit and kissed him on the cheek, a gestured he melted into you. you replied, "and i love your nose too. i'm proud of you, max. good boy."

he said, "i love you."

and before you pulled away to get the roped needed for tonight, you said to him, "i love you too." then quickly ran your finger down his nose, "i love you, your nose, those eyes. every last inch of skin. your strength and your softness. it makes you perfect to me and those jealous bitches on twitter can't say anything about it." you broke into a further smile.

max chuckled slightly, he found you language amusing. the internet was troll heaven, but sometimes he needed his guiding light to not get himself sucked into the chaos of his doubts. he watched you pull away from him and get off the bed. he took off his shirt and shorts, he tried not too think too hard, but rather keep his eyes on you.

when you went to the dresser to find what you needed, he propped himself against the rod-iron headboard. usually he didn't like them, but when he discovered his affection for bondage early into your relationship, the headboard was perfect to keep him bound.

you returned to the bed, placing the two pieces of rope down onto the bed before you started to strip out of your clothes. once naked you got into bed with him. your hands roamed his chest and straddled his waist.

"you're so handsome, max. jesus christ. look at you." you smiled down at him. skin so soft, he was just perfect and you couldn't believe it. you rubbed up against him a little more and explored his torso with your hands, you watched him squirm a little under your touch. he shuddered a little. 

  “i'm not that-"

  “max verstappen. shush. i don't want to hear it.” you rubbed up against the bulge in his briefs. you held onto his shoulders a little as you moved. the dry humping felt good and left excitement racing through your lover, “that's it. that's my good boy.” 

he groaned a little, which only go louder when you stopped your movements to grab the ropes. he dropped his wrists to the bed and let you tie them to the bars of the headboard by the mattress. he melted a little against it while you took his cock out of his briefs.  the underwear was off him in no time and you got straddled on his waist with your hands on his shoulders once more.

you eyed him with heavy lust, “i know those idiots say that you're too fat or soft. well, i think they're blind. i think they're a whole bunch of idiots. you are perfect, turn me on every chance you get.” you took his face in your hands and kissed him as you continued to rub up against him. he panted against you when you broke the kiss soon after. 

  words of protest hung on max's tongue, but he never said anything further. this wasn't going to be a thing he could win. no matter what he said, you have a rebuttal. it was a losing battle, so he'd simply have to put his trust into you. if you found him hot beyond words, then you'd have to listen. but the fight was fully gone when you seated yourself onto his cock, then sank down on it to the base. he yanked against the ropes a little bit and found euphoria in the knowledge that you tied the ropes just as he liked them. tightly.

  “planning to fight against them, max?" you asked as you raked your fingers down his pale chest, "you wouldn't do that, would you? because you're my good boy! my handsome good boy. with those dazzling eyes and stunning laugh. when you smile i'm in heaven. especially when yo let me make both of us feel good. 

he shook his head, his cheeks grew hot from your gaze on him. if he was hot, then you were gorgeous. you were an inferno made human. the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. the kind of beauty that brought him to his knees. he breathed heavily as the pleasure started to build in the bottom of his gut. his cock twitched a little bit the more you rode him. 

he loved being at your mercy, under your thumb in a sexual manner. he bad so many choices all day, sometimes with only seconds to make them. so it was nice. to be in the comfort of your shared bed and letting you take what you needed from him. to give you total control. to love him, shower him in the praise he desired.  

  “i love you.” you said,

  “i love you too.” 

you started to move faster, really working your hips, making sure you could do as much as you could. you moaned a little bit and felt the stutter in your heart from the heat of everything. you pushed hair out of your face as you continued to ride him. the feeling between you two was electric. you said to him, “you're so handsome. fuck, you're perfect.” you started to move faster.

max bit back a moan but it spilled out when you crashed your lips against him. he almost whimpered from the fast speed. how good you took him. it made him clench his fists to try to compose himself. his chest rose and fell heavily he tensed up a little bit at the throb of lust in his body. you kissed him once more as you went as fast as you could go. you bounced on his cock and your nails dug into his jaw and shoulders. 

the noises between you two were erotic. it was desperate on max's end. he wanted to make you feel good while also chasing his own pleasure. he fought a little bit against constraints. he was a little jerky as he tensed up. he could feel it all crashing down on him. no longer the lingering feeling of self-doubt but rather he heat of pleasure. the need to climax. to get out of his own head with the erotic bliss. 

   “please, my love. please.” he swallowed as his back arched a little. he leaned up to give you more kisses and watched you melt against him while your hips still moved. you held his face with both hands and clenched your thighs. he made a sweet, high pitched, almost whine like noise when you pulled away.

you carded your fingers through his hair and admired those blue eyes clouded in lust. “you're perfect, max. every inch of you. every spot you hate, i love more. damn those fuckers on twitter, they don't get to see what i see. everything.” you went in for another kiss and clutched onto his shoulders tightly as you came around his cock. your back arched and max went in to kiss your collarbones with such tenderness. 

  “my good boy.” you said out of breath as you continued to move against him. your cunt clutched around him as you kept your pace steady despite the tremor in your thighs. you knew max wanted to hold onto you and work your hips up and down his cock. but, you were in control. so you examined his expressions as you continued to move. 

the kisses became sloppy once more as you brought max to his own climax. as he tensed up, he really yanked at the ropes for a good few moments before he felt all the fight leave his body. his eyes almost rolled back into his head from the head rush. he relaxed against the headboard and panted heavily. 

he looked erotic, but totally blissed out. so when you stopped your motions. you kissed him gently on the lips before you got off his cock and felt his cum run down your leg as you tried to find your panties. once they were on, you smothered him in kisses and praise as you got the ropes off of him.  you kissed his wrists and he slipped down onto the bed. the mattress felt nice against his body. he felt on cloud nine.

you rubbed his cheek for a moment with your thumb as you said, “i'm going to go get you some water. you just stay here, i'll be right back. now before i go i have to ask one thing. say one thing you like about yourself?"

he shakily exhaled while he leaned into your touch. his eyes were somewhat closed when he answered, sounding far away, “my eyes. they intimidate people. but not you. you love them.” then leaned further. 

you smiled and kissed the top of his head, “that's what i like to hear. next time i want two things before and after we have sex. got it? i'm going to make you love yourself.”

he chuckled softly, cheeks pink, “easier said than done.”

you tapped his cheek before you moved away to go get him some water. you said to him while you approached the bedroom door, “max verstappen, you know i'm as stubborn as you are. ” then left to go get him some water. you could only hope you could make a dent in healing some of his doubt issues. and while you couldn't fight people on twitter, you could kiss and love the man you called your boyfriend. <3