#(i mean i turn it off‚ take the pic‚ and try to turn it back on and... nothin) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

redlinespeedster · 29 days ago

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pretty please oscar piastri degradation im feral over his post-spain photos

CRAVING THE NEW !! ☆

oscar piastri 𝒙 fem!reader

[summary] Oscar was the perfect boyfriend—sweet, thoughtful, chivalrous to the extreme. You were used to his soft whispers, those breathy I-love-yous even in the middle of moans. But that night, right after he took the win at the Spanish Grand Prix, you looked at him with this different kind of spark in your eyes and dropped a request that knocked the air out of him: you wanted him to degrade you, no holding back. And there was no way he could say no. (1.7k)

[warnings] smut !! rough sex, degrading dirty talk, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, fingering, Oscar is mean. Spanish is my first language, and I usually write all my fics in Spanish first, then translate them myself with a lot of effort. Sorry if anything sounds off or if there are mistakes.

[notes] I’ve been drooling over those pics for like three days. Damn, he looks so freaking good. Wish I were Lily, seriously. ��

Your whole life, you had always liked the good guys—the ones with sweet words, the ones who brought you flowers on dates and opened the car door or any door wherever you went together. You always thought good guys were simply better. And Oscar proved it every single time.

He blushed every time he talked about you. He loved showing you off, and his words always carried that sweet tone—even when he had you tangled in his sheets. Oscar was talented at many things beyond motorsport, but his greatest gift was knowing exactly how to make you feel desired, cherished… one of a kind.

But over time, your darker desires began to awaken inside you. They were fantasies you’d been suppressing for years, but now they became frequent—impossible to ignore. It wasn’t about wanting someone else or being unsatisfied with the way you and him made love—not at all. There was simply a smoldering hunger within you, a need to explore something new… with him.

At first, you felt afraid. Afraid that Oscar might get offended, that he’d take your request as a criticism or a warning that your sex life wasn’t working. A lot of people don’t even have a mind open enough to understand that wanting to try new things doesn’t mean what came before was bad; sometimes, it’s simply about the curiosity for the unexpected.

You waited all race weekend to tell him officially. You wanted to do it when you were both home, alone, with no one who could interrupt the conversation by knocking on the door.

Oscar was genuinely happy—you could see it on his face, mostly in the way his cheeks lifted when he smiled. You, on the other hand, were anxious, anticipating how things might go, and unfortunately, he noticed.

“Baby… is everything okay? You’ve seemed kinda off since we got off the plane,” he asks, placing a hand on your knee in a gentle, understanding gesture.

Your eyes fill with tears from the anxiety. You didn’t mean to cry, but the idea of telling Oscar what’s going on makes you uncomfortable. You knew you could trust him with anything; what you didn’t know was how he’d react.

“Something’s going on with me. It’s not that I don’t love you or that I don’t like the way we have sex, but…” You stop when you see Oscar looking at you, confused and worried, so you decide to just be direct. “I want you to degrade me.”

The weirdest part? He doesn’t even seem surprised. There’s no trace of disappointment on his face either—none of that dramatic “you want this because you don’t love me anymore” stuff. Nothing like that. On the contrary, he grabs you by the hips and pulls you into that perfect space between his legs. His warm breath brushes against your ear—soft, steady—as his fingers slowly slide through your hair.

“You really want that? How come you never told me?” he asks. You turn your head to look him in the eyes, and there’s something about the way your pupils dilate that sparks an odd tenderness in him.

“It’s just… I didn’t know how you’d take it” you admit. Your body shivers when he lets out a low laugh, dry and almost amused.

There’s a sexual tension in the room that practically scorches you, stealing your breath. You feel his hands rest on your shoulders, then slowly slide down. He traces your collarbone with the tip of his fingers in a way that makes you shiver, and starts unbuttoning your tiny shirt. Your cheeks flush instantly, intimidated by how his gaze stays locked on you.

“Embarrassed, huh?” he asks, but you’re not really sure what to say—you just stay quiet. His hands move over your chest on top of your shirt, and your heart starts racing. “Why though, babe? It’s not like you’ve ever had a dirty mind or anything.”

His thumbs start teasing your nipples through the thin fabric of your white shirt. He immediately notices you’re not wearing a bra and smirks. Not a big smile—more like a cocky one, like he’s lowkey amused by how easy it is to get you like this.

“I bet you’re soaked. You always get like this. Acting like a bitch in heat.”

A slight jolt of arousal runs through your body. His voice, deeper than usual, and his words catch you off guard. You’re still not completely used to hearing him talk like that, but you don’t mind… if anything, you want more.

He's not wrong, your pussy is dripping.

He notices the second his hand moves down and his fingers slide over the denim fabric of your shorts. Your nose brushes against his; he’s calm, eyes half-lidded, with an almost taunting stillness. You, on the other hand, are a mess—you can barely breathe.

“You’re not even trying to hide it. I spent the whole damn weekend focused on my race, stressing about losing, and all you could think about was riding me like the filthy little slut you are. Am I wrong, babe?

His hand unbuttoned your pants until they dropped and bunched up around your ankles. He can see the wet stain on your panties—sticky and damp. You’d soaked through the fabric. He presses his fingers gently over it, and as a result, they get wet too. But what really gets to you is the moan that slips out, caused by how sensitive you are.

He doesn’t even bother taking your panties off; he just lazily pushes the fabric aside, leaving you completely exposed. Eager anticipation made your clit throb.

Oscar used to touch you slowly, taking his time to gently slide his fingers through your wet folds and then sweetly rub your clit. But this time, it’s different. He quickly slips two fingers into your hole, curling them into a hook to hit that exact spot inside you. Then, once you’ve gotten used to it, he starts moving them in and out with steady force, pulling deep moans from your throat that fill the room.

“Fuck, Osc!” you moan out loud, and you feel him pull his fingers out just to slap your pussy gently—a move that sends an instant jolt through your body and makes you squirm.

“Shut up, slut.” he orders, and you feel his fingers curl back inside you, pounding your poor hole with a near-brutal rhythm, thrusting in and out without mercy. The way he timed each thrust to hit that perfect spot inside you before pulling back was just unreal.

His hand grips your hips, trying to pull you even closer, making your ass rub against his hardness. You can feel his erection—still clothed—pressing firmly against your skin. His hands move down with urgency to get rid of the fabric in the way, unbuckling his belt without wasting a second.

His damp hands grip your hips tightly before he throws you onto the bed without a second thought, making you bounce against the mattress with a muffled moan. He grabs you by the ankles and drags you toward him, settling between your legs as his body drops over yours, trapping you with no room to escape.

“I can only imagine the agony,” he murmurs, eyes locked on yours while his hands grip your bare thighs. Then he lifts them firmly, spreading them and pushing them toward your body until your knees are nearly pressed against your stomach. “You spent the whole week watching me race, dying for me to wreck you. You don’t like it when I talk sweet, do you? When I tell you how good you look or how amazing you feel. What really turns you on is when I treat you like my throwaway toy.”

You feel him drip slowly onto the lower part of your stomach—warm and wet—leaving a sticky sensation clinging to your skin. Then his cock slides gently through your folds, not entering, just teasing; he only wants to watch you lose control.

“Oscar… please.” you sob between moans, clinging tightly to his back like letting go would mean losing your mind. “I can’t take it… I can’t.”

He shifts, kneeling in front of your pussy—completely exposed, utterly wrecked. The tip of his cock slides in slowly until it disappears inside you, filling you up completely. He pauses for a second to let you adjust, and in the next, he’s thrusting hard, the sound of your bodies slapping echoing through every corner of your house.

Oscar moans too. He moans because you’re squeezing him just right—hot, wet, and perfect—driving him insane. His hands dig into your thighs, pushing your legs toward your chest to spread you open wider, so he can bury himself as deep as possible and fuck you without mercy.

“Fuck…” he groans, voice rough as his face twists in pure pleasure. The look on his face—that mix of ecstasy and desperation—sets you off instantly. Your walls tighten around him, like your body’s trying to keep him there till the very end. You’re right on the edge, seconds away from turning the moment into a glorious mess. “You want me to fill you up? I will. I’ll stuff you so full my cum’ll be dripping out of that pathetic pussy for days.”

You can feel how tightly you’re clenching around him, until you finally make him come inside you, milking him for every last drop. Your pussy takes it all in, savoring every bit until you’re left a creamy mess, mixed with your own orgasm that bursts inside you too. The pleasure hits so hard it leaves you dazed, gasping, your body trembling and your legs on the verge of giving out.

He looks at you tenderly, finally letting go of that dominant side once he sees you’re satisfied with what he gave you. He smiles softly and leans in again to kiss your forehead. Your cheeks, inevitably, flush all over again.

“I like this…” he murmurs quietly, his hand gently caressing your cheek. You raise an eyebrow, curious, not really getting what he means. “Fucking you till you can’t breathe and then watching you blush like a virgin. That’s just something I’ll never get tired of, huh baby?”

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri smut #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x fem!reader #oscar piastri fanfic #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #formula 1 smut #formula 1 x reader

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maudie-duan · 27 days ago

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Summary: The classic mirror selfie with you and your boo, just as you're about to snap the pic, your bestie texts you, questioning Harry's abilities...in bed.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My thoughts last night scrolling through Tumblr after a storm woke me up at 3a.m. No biggie...But here you go. Happy weekend!!

Warning: Just nothing but bathroom smut. Have at it!

It was just supposed to be a quick selfie, the two of you standing in front of the mirror, and there you were, one hand brushing your teeth the other opening the camera on your phone. Harry straightens slightly, continuing to casually brush his teeth, and inches closer so you’re both in frame, and just as your about to tap the capture button, a notification rolls in:

SHAY: Dude, there’s no way he made you come that many times.

And shit, your thumb is already pressing the shutter, it’s too late, and the selfie freezes on the screen capturing a single moment in time, and you peer down at it, Harry’s eyes angled directly at your screen. You’re eyes catch in the mirror and he blinks, then blinks again, and you swear the way his eyebrow twitches that he for sure saw the text.

When you look back at the picture, his gaze is frozen, laser-focused on your phone screen, pupils sharp with interest

And that’s when the silent panic sets in.

You should have swiped the notification off your screen the second you felt the buzz in your hand, but you didn’t. Your brain was slow this morning, tired, a stupid sludgy mess, lagging a beat behind, and your mortification only seemed to make it worse.

Instead of acknowledging anything you stand there, toothbrush buzzing, opening the text you know he just saw, feigning ignorance as if nothing happened. From the corner of your eye Harry doesn’t move, as his silence hold you in the mental war raging within you, him continuing on as if you can pretend reality isn’t happening, and the second you put your phone down on the counter it buzzes again.

Nonchalantly you lean forward and spit, eyes avoiding Harry, and you turn, meaning to play it off, but when you meet his eyes in the mirror you catch the devious little curve of his mouth, his dimple’s dipping deeper now, like a warning.

“So you saw that, huh?” you try, voice wobbly and full of foamy toothpaste.

He huffs out a laugh, not even bothering to look away. “Didn’t know you were telling our business to the world, darling.” He drags out the last word, almost making it sound like a challenge, his accent syrupy and slow, with the faintest hint of smug, watching you in the mirror like it’s a live feed of your embarrassment.

And this is when you wanted to crawl into the sink and die. “It’s not—” you say, then cut yourself off, sputtering, trying to find the right word in case he’s mad, “It’s not like that. It’s just Shay. I tell her everything, you know that.”

Harry spits, then rinses his mouth, and shakes his head with a disappointed little click of his tongue. “Oh, baby. Baby, baby.” and he leans forward until his chin is resting on your shoulder, eyes dark with a playful glint. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

He keeps shaking his head, like he’s truly heartbroken, but his hands are all over you, fingertips pressing into the fabric at your waist, just above your ass, and maybe you should be more embarrassed, but fuck, it’s the way he’s looking at you—hungry—his fake-scold nature making your skin prickle in a very different way.

One that’s turning you on. You’re heart already racing under his touch,

“Why?” you question, because the word is there on your tongue and it’s the only thing your melting brain can manage.

He grins. “Because now I’ve got to teach you a lesson.”

You snort, accidentally spraying a fine mist of toothpaste all over the mirror. “Oh yeah? Gonna ground me? Take my phone away?” you taunt, mocking him, but your voice comes out smaller than you meant it to.

He takes the toothbrush from your hand, sets it on the counter with a little clatter, and grabs your chin so your eyes can’t go anywhere, his face your whole focus. “No, love,” he coos, with a false-sweetness that sends a flutter to the pit of your stomach, “not gonna ground you. Gonna bend you over this fucking counter and make you beg for it. That’s what’s gonna happen.”

And there’s no time to process his words before he’s moving, sliding his big palm down your back, guiding you forward until your hips knock against the edge of the sink. Your breath catches as your knees threaten to buckle, and He crowds in behind you, pressing his hips to your ass, and holy shit, there’s nothing subtle about the way he’s already hard for you, thick through the soft fabric of his shorts, perfectly lined up, not a trace of shame to be seen.

Because you can see all of it in the mirror: the heat blooming in your cheeks, the way Harry’s green eyes track every movement, the way his hands flex with a possessive grip around your hips, and then he pushes the hem of your t-shirt up, exposing your bare skin to the chill of the bathroom air, and his breath halts for a sharp second, just a little, just enough to send your thoughts spiraling.

“Don’t think you’ve ever looked more gorgeous than you do right now, love.” he says, his voice low and honest, and dammit, the compliment has you aching in places that have nothing to do with vanity, but everything to do with him, and how badly you want him.

He doesn’t bother with the games, no getting you ready, just hooks his thumbs in the waistband of your underwear and yanks them down with one swift motion, pooling them to your knees, and you let out a shocked, involuntary gasp, the humiliation making your pussy pulse even harder, and he yanks your shirt up, the material just above your waist, leaving your entire ass exposed, and you want to whimper, you do, but you bite down on your lip instead, trying to fight the fear that’s rising.

Harry’s fast, and he bends down, trailing his mouth along the curve of your spine, licking a long, slow stripe up to your neck, with a primal hunger that has your clit throbbing, and when he bites your shoulder, gentle but pointed, he does it again, harder this time, just to prove he can. “If Shay wants the details,” he breathes, lips pressed to your ear, “We might as well give her something worth talking about.”

Stunned, you choke on a laugh that turns into a moan as his hand slips between your legs. His fingers rough and confident, always a little too big, and christ, it’s so unfair how good at this he is. It should be a fucking crime, because as soon as he rubs you with the heel of his palm, knowing exactly how much pressure you need, it makes your knees tremble, you standing there becoming this weak puppet, ready to do anything he says and the whole time he’s watching you in the mirror, making you watch yourself come apart.

And it’s sick, so fucking, sick, but you want more.

When you meet his gaze, shuddering, his smile widens, all teeth and mischief. “Want you to see what I do to you,” he says, punctuating the sentence with a swift flick of his wrist that has your vision blurring for a second.

You try to turn your face away, to bury it in your arms, but he grabs your jaw, forcing your head back up. “Eyes on the mirror, love,” he orders, soft but dead serious.

Of course, you obey, because you always do, and he rewards you by sliding two fingers inside, fucking you with just his hand, the other steadying you at the hip. He moves slow at first, drawing out every tiny noise you make, then picks up his speed until you’re grinding down against his palm, desperate for more, gasping each time his thumb finds your clit.

“Harry, please—” you gasp, but you’re not sure what you’re asking for. More? Less? All of it? Because your head is still spinning, a fucking muddled mess of want and need tangling together until you can’t form a single coherent thought, because it’s only him, and he’s all that you need in this very moment.

This draws a laugh from Harry,a low rasp filling the space, and he pulls his hand away as your body goes limp, and you nearly collapse from the sudden loss.

“Turn around,” he says, and you do, stumbling on shaky legs, but he catches you, lifts you effortlessly onto the counter, and spreads your legs open with his hands on your knees. He’s between your thighs in a heartbeat, not even pretending to hide his hunger as you cage him in.

He peels the shirt off over your head, tosses it aside, and then you’re just—naked. Completely. Sitting on cold stone of the sink with your thighs splayed, dripping and humiliated, wanting him so badly you can’t even see straight.

Harry kneels down, spreading your legs wider, and runs his tongue up the inside of your thigh. “Open up for me,” he directs, and you do without pause, because you’re past the point of dignity, and it’s everything, his mouth hot and soft, a shocking contrast to the cool air, and he licks you like it’s his favorite thing in the world, and maybe it is because he never seems to fail you. And when he sucks your clit into his mouth, flicking his tongue with quick, ruinous strokes, it’s too much, too fast, and you hold your breath, thinking you’re going to lose it—

And fuck, you do, you do, you, do, because you’re coming, hard, almost instantaneous, grabbing at the fucking edge of the counter for dear life so you don’t scream, but Harry doesn’t stop, just keeps working you until you’re quiver, begging, nearly crying for mercy, forcing his head away with shaking hands as he leaves you with a minty tingle.

Then he stands, mouth slick and wet, eyes wild like the beast you’ve made of him. “Gorgeous,” he repeats, voice thick with pride as he shoots you a cunning smile, as if he’s giving himself a pat on the back.

You can barely articulate your thoughts, but somehow you manage to say, “You’re such an asshole.”

This makes him laugh, and he drags the back of his hand across his mouth. “Yeah, but you love it.”

And there’s no question about it because you do. God, you do, and he kisses you, tongue still minty from the toothpaste, and slides his hand up your side, fingers curling around your breast, squeezing until you let out a hushed moan.

“Bend over,” he tells you, more indulgent this time, but with a command you can’t refuse, because why would you at this point.

You slid off the counter, trembling, and braced yourself on the sink, the mirror right in front of you, reflecting you back in a light you rarely saw yourself in, and you can’t help but stare, taking yourself in, and maybe before there would have been a shyness, a subtle shame creeping beneath the surface, but the longer you stare the more you love it, feeling sexy, invinceable under his gaze as he pressed the length of his cock to your back, and you felt it—hot and heavy, so fucking ready it’s almost obscene. The feelings rising within you.

You watched as he lined himself up, not even pretending to be gentle, and without warning he pushes inside you in one achingly slow and stretching stroke. You gasp through the pain, gripping the sides of the sink so hard your knuckles turn white, god He’s so thick, it’s always felt like too much at times, but you want it, want him to take what he wanted, take you, take everything.

Have it all, because you were his now, a pawn in a lesson you had to learn.

“Fuck,” he groaned, the word muffled against the flesh of your shoulder. “God, you feel incredible.”

And it doesn’t take him long to set a brutal rhythm, thrusting hard and deep, each movement forcing your hips up against the cool marble, that was sure to mark your skin. The sounds that echoed in the space were filthy, slick and wet and loud enough to pierce the walls, and just when you felt yourself slipping Harry grabbed hold of your hair, yanking your head back so you would have to look at yourself, have to see the way your mouth dropped open, the way your eyes fluttered with every thrust as he bucked himself into you with no end in sight.

“You’re mine,” he forced, voice hot in your ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”

And you nod, too far gone to answer as he fucks you harder, pushing you right to the edge, not letting up even when your whimper turned to pleads.

“Say it,” he demands. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” you cry out. “I’m yours, Harry, fuck—baby don’t stop”

Like the good girl you were, he rewards you by reaching down, rubbing your clit in rough circles, and this had you losing it again, coming so fucking hard that your vision goes white, and that’s just what he needed because he follows a second later, grinding his hips against you, and moaning out your name as if it were a blessing and a curse, collapsing onto your back as he comes inside you.

And for a long, quiet moment, all you could hear was your labored breaths mingling, and ragged as the distant hum of your electric toothbrush vibrated on the counter.

Harry pulled out with a breathy laugh, leaving you hollow as he turns you around so you’re facing him. He lifts you back onto the counter, forcing himself between your shaky legs, and hugs you so tight you almost can’t breathe as his head falls to your shoulder, and he holds you, your bodies sweaty and spent, but it feels good, it feels right.

“Next time,” he says breaking the silence, his voice muffled, “tell Shay it was four times, not three.”

And you start to laugh, helpless and sated, and he grins into your neck, his gentle hand splayed over your belly like he’s marking his territory.

“Lesson learned,” you breathed, and his smug smile is back in full swing, evidence that Harry is already planning your next punishment.

Taglist: @sassamanda77 @harryyloverrr @panini @unfuckwitablenarry @triski73 @haleyannaw @dipmeinhoneyh @lizsogolden @spinninc @iloveharrystyles04 @mema10 @avas-queen-black @starshollowgazette @practistyles

Other One-Shots<-

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misctf · 7 months ago

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The Wrong Number

Kyle grins as he snaps a post-workout selfie, quickly sending it to the chick he met at the bar the night prior. His grin widens as he sits naked on his bed, thinking about her. He could still feel her lips against his, the way her hands roamed his body. He could still hear her moans. And as his thoughts continue, he absentmindedly strokes his hardening dick.

“Fuck...” He mumbles.

Probably one of the best hook-ups he had in a long-time. And he couldn’t wait for part two.

“Hey babe, you around tonight? Ready for round 2?”

He stares at his phone, awaiting Stacy’s... no Brittany’s... no... He chuckles as he realizes he doesn’t even remember her name. But did it matter? He’d make an effort to learn it tonight- he wasn’t the least bit concerned she would turn him down. Especially with that selfie he sent. His muscles bulging, dusted perfectly with manly hairs. Yeah- totally irresistible.

“Come on.” He whispers as he sees she’s writing a response.

His heart sinks when he receives her response- a selfie. And it is not a selfie of the blond, double-D, bombshell he bagged last night. No, this was a dude. A buff, cocky dude. Kyle feels his dick soften as his own cocky grin shifts to a frown.

“Hey there cutie.” The message underneath the selfie reads.

“Sorry, wrong number.” Kyle replies quickly.

A fake number? Really? Kyle felt pissed. Did she really give him a fake number? And who the fuck was this guy? And why did he call him ‘cutie’? Kyle groans as he realizes he wouldn’t be seeing her again. Her loss, he figured. The young man started to stand up, but his phone buzzed again. It was that guy.

“Come on, don’t be like that.”

“Lol, sorry bro. Chick gave me the wrong number.” Kyle replies, “Women, right? Lol.”

Based on the selfie, Kyle figured the guy frequented the gym. Maybe they’d have some stuff in common. And part of Kyle felt maybe he could commiserate with a fellow bro. But his thoughts slow as he stares at the pic. Drinking in each detail and contour of the man’s body. The guy’s massive, juicy pecs taking up most of the selfie. And Kyle absentmindedly wonders what they feel like. And as he scratches his chest, he does not register his chest hairs falling away, leaving him cleanshaven and smooth.

“Wouldn’t know, cutie.” The man replies, “Thought you’d know that after last night lol.”

Kyle raises an eyebrow- his thoughts speeding back up. What did this guy... ohhhhhh... Now he knew. Kyle feels rage build up at the realization. Was this guy flirting with him? First he gets a wrong number, now some gay guy is trying to make a move? Just his luck...

“Don’t swing that way, bro.” Kyle replies.

Kyle went to block the number, but something causes him to stop. What did the guy mean ‘after last night?’ Kyle knew he hooked up with a chick. And two, Kyle wasn’t gay. He’d never... Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his his wide frame and proud muscles begin to decay. The increasingly slender young man barely registering his shifting frame.

“You sure? Could’ve fooled me.”

Kyle bit his lip, “What’re you talking about?” He types with his increasingly more dainty and feminine hands. His thick callouses from his workouts smoothing over and becoming soft.

“Did I fuck your brains out or something, cutie?”

Kyle shifts uncomfortably as his ass swells, filling with squeezable fat. An ass no gay man would be able to resist.

“OMG please stop.” Kyle texts back, “Like, I don’t even know who you are.” He stares at the messages he just sent, part of him registering that something was off with his word choices.

“What about now?”

Kyle gasped at the selfie the man set. His perfectly chiseled muscles and exposed pits causing him to blush. A thought crosses his mind- he would want nothing more than to be laying on that man’s chest. To thrust his nose into those dark, musky forests. And as he thinks of more things he’d want this man to do to him, he strokes his dick. Up and down, up and down. Not even registering that his prided manhood was getting smaller. And smaller. And smaller yet. Settling on a measly three inches hard.

“Like, no... something’s like totes...”

Kyle moans as the pleasure from stroking his dick suddenly intensifies tenfold. And then begins to dwindle, only to return. But he realizes it’s no longer his dick that brings him pleasure. No, it’s his ass. His hole clenching desperately for something to fill it. His mind racing with the new realization that he desperately needs his prostate stimulated.

“Need another reminder?”

Kyle can barely contain the feminine moan that escapes him as he gazes upon a dick pic from the stranger. And as he stares at it, licking his increasingly puffier lips, he realizes he needs it. And he needs it now. In his mouth, in his ass- anywhere. As long as it was inside him.

“Please daddy, I need it.” Kyle quickly texts back, sending a selfie of his own.

“Good boy. See ya soon slut.”

Kyle moans again, as his ass pulses with pleasure. The anticipation clouding his mind, his thoughts slowing. But as he stares at his new selfie, he can’t help but feel that this is wrong. That he wasn’t some smooth, bubble-butt, horny twink desperate for a quick fuck. No... he was... he was... A giggle escapes his increasingly puffy lips and he stands up. His ass sticks out as he saunters over to the mirror. Drinking in his new look. Loving his thicc ass, his small cock, and lean figure. His mind filling with all the knowledge he would need to please any man and a desire to do just that.

“Mmmmm daddy...” He moans, as he squeezes his own ass. His voice sultry and high-pitched.

It’s only a few minutes later until there’s a knock on his door. And the young twink saunters over, opening to reveal the man he had been texting with. Only a few minutes later, his nose is buried in the man’s musky pits. His memories of the girl yesterday vanishing from his mind. And as he deep throats the man’s dick, any interest he may have had in growing his muscles vanishes. It’s only when he’s thrown onto the bed, his ass up in the air, does Kyle panic. A sense of dread filling his psyche. Images of the man he was- his memories- filling his mind. But it all comes to a screeching halt as he feels his partner’s dick enter him. And with each thrust and feminine moan that leaves Kyle’s lips, more of these memories vanish.

Its only a few minutes later that the man leaves. Kyle is still lying in bed, cum leaking from his needy hole. His mind in shambles. But as the post-orgasm bliss fades, Kyle can feel the desire for round two start to grow. And with an ass like that, Kyle wouldn’t be waiting for long.

#male tf #male transformation #mental change #personality tf #straight to gay #twink tf

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oldermenfucker · 20 days ago

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Alight With The Sparks | M. Robinavitch

Summary: Jack and Samira open a dating account for Robby, and furious Dr. Robinavitch goes to shut down the poor girl they have managed to charm, only for the night to take a turn and change his mind.

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut(only one scene), VERY VERY PLOT HEAVY, so much pining urgh, Robby falls hard and fast and first, he is smitten alright, Alcohol consumption, blind date trope, lots of fluff and kisses and just cutesy things, English isn’t my first language<3

word count: 8.4k+

an: so I know I said I didn’t wanna write the blind date idea but here I am with this HEAVY fic! I hope you guys like this pleaseeeee comment and tell me what y’all think about it! Also, shoutout to @m-robinavitch & @pxpecxdy for helping me with this fic!!! ALSO THE PICS DO NOT REPRESENT THE READER!! She is written as neutral as possible with NO details about her appearance! She’s just shorter than Robby!

no beta<3

“Jack, he’ll kill us.”

“I’ve had enough of his grumbling.” Jack unlocks Robby’s phone, opening his gallery to find at least one good picture of him. “He doesn’t say it, but I can see how lonely he is.”

“And your solution is to open a dating account without him knowing?” Samira hisses, sitting down next to Jack on the couch, glancing at the bathroom door in the hallway in panic, “Stop— what if he finds out? Oh, great, now you’re snooping around his gallery.”

“Sweetie, listen,” Jack whispers while airdropping the few pictures he has selected from Robby’s phone, glancing up at the bathroom door before he looks at Samira, “Heather has moved on, all his exes have moved on, and he is sitting alone in a bar drinking while having a midlife crisis. He needs to go out; it’s good for him and my sanity.”

“You already have a girlfriend, stop digging your nose into his life, maybe he doesn’t— shit, shit, he is unlocking the door!” Samira snatches Robby’s phone, standing up anxiously before she rushes toward the kitchen, dropping his phone face-first on the counter, and busying herself with filling a glass of water.

Jack clears his throat, looking down at his own phone, a barely visible smirk on his face as he opens the dating app and uploads Robby’s photo without looking suspicious.

“What do you want to have for dinner?” Samira asks, smiling awkwardly at Robby, who gives her a reassuring grin in return while he reaches for the tissue box on the counter next to his phone, “I don’t feel like cooking, so…”

“We’ll figure it out, honey, don’t worry,” Jack, finally after the harsh glare Samira gives him, turns off his phone resting his head on his hand on the back of the couch as he waits for Robby to join him, “It doesn’t matter as long as Robby stays here with us.”

“Yeah, about that…” Robby drops the crumbled tissues inside the trash, putting his phone in the pocket of his jeans before he gives a soft apologetic smile to Samira, “I think I should leave. You gotta enjoy your time with him now that he’s moved in. I’ll come another day.”

“You know we are more than happy to have you over,” Samira replies, following Robby to the door, pulling Jack up by his hand to say his farewell, “But no pressure! You’re welcome anytime!”

“Thank you, Samira,” He gives her a half hug before he pats Jack’s back when he is pulled in for a deep embrace, “Good night, brother.”

“It’d have been great if you didn’t run away from having a solid conversation with me.”

“I don’t need you to scold me about my perfect life, I’ve heard enough,” Robby shakes his head as he bends down to put his sneakers on, sighing deeply when he sees how Jack and Samira — both — give him an unsatisfying look, “Don’t even think about talking. I’m outta here.”

“We want what’s best for you—“

“And that, Jack,” Robby hits the elevator’s button before he looks back at his friend with a defeated smile, “Is to keep your head out of my business. ‘M not trying to sound mean, I’ve done everything, maybe that’s how it’s always supposed to be.”

“What? What do you mean?” Samira asks, stepping forward, looking at Robby with a soft frown, glancing back at Jack, who is mimicking her conflicted thoughts.

“I’m not exactly the best man to date,” Robby shrugs, running a hand through his hair as he waits for the elevator to reach the floor, “I’ve been told, and I don’t disagree. I’ve tried everything—“

“Not everything.” It is comical how Jack and Samira both say it at the same time, and in that moment, Jack understands she is on board with his plans.

Robby chuckles, his shoulders go rigid as he waves at them one final time, “I have, trust me. I’m destined to be alone, and I’m fine with it. You should be, too.”

As soon as the elevator doors are shut, Samira pushes Jack inside the house, slamming the door before running her hands down her face, groaning loudly.

“Get out your phone, I can’t believe I’m saying this,” she grabs Jack by the elbow, pushing him down on the couch as she crawls next to him, “Find him a date as soon as possible. He is becoming an insufferable old man.”

“See? My idea is fucking brilliant!” Jack grins at her, unlocking his phone to open the dating app, “We gotta make sure we talk exactly like Robby so when they go on the date, she thinks it was him all along.”

“We’re basically lying, but sure, thank you for your brilliant idea,” Samira sighs, shaking her head in disappointment, but deep down, she knows this is the only path Robby hasn’t taken; maybe something good will come out of it. She can only hope.

“Okay, choose a picture— definitely not this,” Jack angles his phone so she can take a better look at the photo. The first one is a group photo of Robby and his day shift team; he isn’t looking the happiest and cleanest, and more importantly, he is looking at Heather. So nope, this one has to go.

“Something that shows his face better,” she snatches his phone from his hands, leaning against his chest as he wraps his arm around her shoulders, “Okay… what about this?”

“Not bad, but it’s a group photo again— does he even have a picture of himself? Like a solo one?”

“That’s…” Samira stops, pouting a little when she thinks about it, “That means no one’s ever taken a picture of him. No wonder he feels so drained; he doesn’t have one single picture of himself! Jack he is so lonely.”

“I’ve been telling you, honey,” Jack kisses the crown of her head, “He needs to find his match again. He found it once, he can do it again.”

“This app better give us someone worth his time— oh, okay, this selfie isn’t that bad, huh?”

“He’s holding up a book,” Jack cringes, scratching his jaw as he stares at the photo, “Okay, urm, it’s not too bad, but he looks like a grandpa. We just have to find girls who are into him and whatever category this picture is a part of.”

“He’s had bunch of relationships before, we’ll definitely find someone,” he watches as she adds his name, making sure she puts down ‘Robby in short’ so his future hypothetical date doesn’t call him by his first name, “Add his height, his job… urm, what else?”

“What does he like? Besides books, obviously.”

“Women.”

“Jack,” she gives him a look that screams as if we don’t already know, “Focus! Hobbies. What does he do when he is out of the hospital?”

“Drinking, reading… he goes to this really, really old record shop— he’s such an old man, he’s going to die soon—ouch, what?”

“You are barely any younger than him,” she pinches his arm, rolling her eyes as she adds the things he told her, “Any sports? Football, basketball, baseball?”

“I think he plays basketball with Jake a few times a week when he isn’t exhausted, which is rare, you should add that he is so tired—“

“Listen, babe,” Samira turns around, cupping Jack’s face and he takes the opportunity to pecks her lips, “You had a stupidly amazing idea, now don’t fucking ruin it. Let me handle it, alright? Alright.”

She settles against him again, putting the location on Pittsburgh before she presses ‘done’ and starts going through the options the app is offering in this city. They like some of the profiles, delete the others, and the game of finding Robby a match starts.

•••••••

“Hey, man,” Jack strides inside the hospital, backpack slung on his shoulder as he hugs Robby, taking a look at the board before he looks back at Robby, who gives him a sympathetic nod, “Looks like you guys had a rough day.”

“Yeah, hope your shift is better than ours,” Dana sighs, tucking her glasses inside her bag, “It was a shitshow. A school bus crashed into a tree… a bunch of terrified children ran in here.”

“That’s the worst you got today? You should hang around and see how much—“

“It’s not a game of who has it worse, Jack,” Dana chuckles, swinging her bag on her shoulder as she leaves the station, “Enjoy the night, I’m sure you’d love the screaming children who’ve got hand surgery at three in the morning.”

“Have a good night,” Jack squeezes Dana’s hand as she passes him, looking back at Robby, who is leaning his hand on his forearm on the Central, “Go home, you need rest.”

“Yeah, I will,” Robby scratches the back of his neck, “I’m thinking of taking a few days off, just to sleep. I know I won’t, but trying it wouldn’t hurt.”

“Take Friday off,” Jack replies quickly — almost too quickly — before he clears his throat and pulls his phone out of his cargo pants, “So you know, you can have your weekend and a day more off in a row. Please text Samira and tell her I got here, the car’s hers for her next shift.”

“Sure,” Robby frowns a bit at Jack, watching him go after Jack, and hands him his phone. Robby, hesitant and nervous, unlocks Jack’s phone — yeah, he knows his password, it’s a requirement in ER because they trust each other enough and someone has to get inside this thing in the time of emergency — and he finds Jack’s messages with ease, Samira’s name pinned on top with a picture of her smiling.

It’s one second, he is too quick, he shouldn’t be this quick, but he is. He catches a glimpse of his name in one of the recent unread messages. He stands frozen, looking at the contact’s name, color draining from his face.

Robby’s date

“What the fuck?” He whispers, opening the message without thinking twice, reading the only text available.

I’m so excited to finally meet you this Friday, Robby!

He thinks he might drop dead in the middle of the ER. If he puts his hand on the side of his trachea, he would feel how insanely fast his carotid pulse is. He is sweating on his forehead, his back, and his hands. He doesn’t think he can hold the phone any longer.

He takes another look at the message, and it seems the words are taunting him. A date. Robby. A date he doesn’t know anything about. In Jack fucking Abbot’s phone.

Robby walks to the locker room, phone clutched in his hand as he pushes past people to find his friend, Jack, might not be his friend any longer after this conversation — and finds him pulling out his stethoscope from his bag.

“I’m gonna ask this once, Jack,” Robby squeezes his eyes shut as he holds up the phone, “What the fuck is this?”

“Wha— oh.”

“Oh is right, my friend,” Robby glares at Jack, who just shrugs and shuts his locker door, sighing deeply before he grabs his phone and locks it. “Robby’s date, seriously? Are you cheating on Samira—“

“Woah, woah, okay, man, take a fucking breath,” Jack raises his hands, giving Robby a look that shows if he talks more he might pull out his knife and slice his friend in half, “I would rather lose all my limbs than cheat on her, one. Two, that is your date. See the name, Robby’s name? That’s you. You think I’m that desperate to impersonate you? You’re not half as handsome as I am.”

“So what is it then? I have a date and I didn’t even know about it?” Robby pushes his hands into his hoodie, turning around to lightly bang his head on the lockers, “When were you going to tell me?”

“Thursday—“

“A day before the date? Wow, this is fucking thrilling,” he rubs a hand down his face, leaning on his side on the cold metal, giving Jack a defeated look while crossing his arms over his chest, “Why’d you do that, Jack?”

“Because I’m fucking worried about you,” Jack hisses, walking closer so he doesn’t need to shout and alert the entire floor, “You’ve been neglecting yourself, I can’t stand that.”

“You’re talking like a Victorian prince, spit it out, I’m one second away from banging my head on this damn locker.”

“You are lonely and instead of fixing it, you’re letting it destroy you,” Jack says, putting his hand on Robby’s shoulder, squeezing him tightly, “I know what I did was… unethical, so to say, but you need to get out there, brother. You have to stop letting these destructive thoughts ruin your life, and no, before you say it, you deserve a good life.”

“I’ll go to that date to shut that poor girl down,” Robby whispers, shaking his head slightly as he takes in Jack’s words. “She’s probably excited to meet me, and I’m gonna go tell her how it was not me. Bravo.”

“It’s a step even if you tell her no,” Jack shrugs and gives him a soft smile, “But go there, you never know what might happen.”

“I’m still fucking pissed at you so don’t push it.”

••••••

Robby is nervous. It has been too long since he has felt this way. Nervous about meeting a woman? The confident Dr. Robinavitch, who handles a chaotic emergency department for twelve hours on his own? It doesn’t sound like him.

What is worse, though, is that Jack didn’t budge for a second when Robby asked him to show at least a picture of his date so he could easily find and send the poor girl home. He already feels responsible for her excitement that he is about to ruin; he feels bad that he has to do this. But there is no other option either.

He is all dressed up, per Samira’s request; nothing too extravagant, but a dark green fitted shirt with rolled up sleeves and his jeans. He doesn’t know if it is a good look, he shouldn’t care because he isn’t going to stay at all — says hi, shakes your hand, sits down to explain what his idiot friend did, says goodbye, and then be on his way.

He walks into the restaurant with his hands in his pockets, nervously looking around before a waitress notices him and asks about his reservations. He doesn’t know which name Jack gave them, but a soft voice interrupts his thoughts before he makes a fool of himself.

“Robby?”

What he doesn’t except, is for you to be fucking ethereal, as if they have pulled you out of fairy tales and sat you in front of him. If he blinks one more time, he might be able to see you glowing under the soft lights of the restaurant.

You are smiling at him, standing up to greet him. The dress you are wearing makes his mind go blank. The color matches your skin, and the fabric clings to all the right places that have his mind spinning. And it only breaks his heart that he has to tell you the ugly truth about how you both ended up here — he wishes he could do something to change his unbelievable fate.

“Hi,” you reach to shake his hands when he walks to the table, beaming at him with such enthusiasm he has never felt, “It’s so good to see you.”

“Likewise,” he clears his throat, smiling back awkwardly before he rounds the table to pull your chair back, tucking you in gently before he goes to his seat.

“You’re late,” you whisper, as if you’re scared he might run out of this place before you get the chance to say something else.

“Yeah, about that,” he rubs the back of his neck, looking at you with soft eyes, knowing what he is about to say might ruin your entire night — the thought makes his heart twist, you are far too beautiful to be hurt because of Jack’s stupidity, but if he doesn’t tell you, he will never forgive himself — so he leans forward on the table with his forearms resting on the tablecloth, “I’m deeply sorry for what I’m about to say, I… I don’t even know where to begin.”

“Oh…?” You sound small, and he hasn’t even spoken the words. This is going to break him, he is sure, cause your bright eyes are slowly losing the glimmer in them the more he keeps quiet.

“The person you texted was not me.” The cat’s out of the bag now. “It was my friend, he wanted to get me to start dating again, and he thought whatever he was doing was to help me. I had no idea I was going to have a date until a few days ago, and… he even refused to show a picture of you.”

“So you’re not here for the date.” You take a deep breath, huffing out a slow laugh, “It’s alright, I wish I had known sooner so I wouldn’t spend hours getting ready for someone who doesn’t even know my name.”

“I’m so sorry,” Robby hides his face in his hands, embarrassment washing over him as he hears you. Fuck you, Jack. “For whatever’s worth… You look incredible. You look fantastic, so… so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you give him a halfhearted smile — at least that’s a start — and reach for your purse, “I think it’s best if I leave—“

“Wait!” What the fuck, Robby? He doesn’t know why he is stopping you, he is here to shut this stupid date down and prove to Jack that he doesn’t need to date to have an amazing life, but he already feels like someone has stabbed him when his eyes fall on the little pout on your lips, “Listen, um, I hate that I’m the reason you feel your efforts are wasted, so… let me buy you dinner. This is the least I can do to apologize for this inconvenience.”

“Are you sure? I mean,” you chuckle, looking down at your hands, “You don’t even know my name.”

“I can learn your name,” he shrugs, his eyes giving out the subtle hint of his admiration, “If you’d like me to.”

“Well, I’ve liked you for a few weeks, although now I found out it wasn’t you, but… I’m not opposed to a friendly dinner,” You explain, resting your chin on the back of your hands, gazing at Robby in a way that makes his heart leap into his throat, “At least someone gets to enjoy my outfit tonight, even though it isn’t the Robby I wanted to.”

“I’m sure you’ll find the real one more enjoyable than the one you talked to,” he smiles, wrinkles deepening as he looks at you, “if it makes you feel any better, the one you were talking to was my friend and his girlfriend.”

“You’ve got a tough competition then,” he knows you are flirting, he should shut it down, he should tell you to stop, he should stop his heart from racing when you blink and grin at him, he should most definitely look away to stop his cheeks from turning red.

“They don’t have you looking all dolled up in front of them,” fuck, fuck, fuck, there it is, “I think I can manage.”

“Wow,” you chuckle shyly, glancing away for a second before looking back at him, “Smooth, I like it. Definitely better than all the flirting your friends were doing.”

“See? Real Robby is the real deal.”

“Don’t take yourself too highly, you might trip and fall,” you grin, “Besides, this isn’t a date, right? Your words, not mine.”

“I don’t know about that anymore,” Robby looks at you, the heavy feeling in his chest making his lips stretch into a broad smile, “Maybe… we could ignore what happened and start over? And I get the chance to take revenge on them.”

“Okay, I’m in.”

“In taking revenge or turning this into a date?” He raises his eyebrows at you, waiting for your answers as he drags his eyes over your face. Jesus, you really are beautiful. How did those two idiots managed to get you to like him only with texts is beyond him.

“T-the date,” he can see how you get flustered a little, stuttering when your gaze locks with his, “Other aspects don’t concern me, nor should it bother you.”

“I can’t just let it slide,” Robby shrugs, “but I’m also too old to get back at him. I would rather focus on things that matter.”

“Like what?”

You know what, but he isn’t going to ruin this, not now, not when, after so many countless dates, he is actually feeling something. Robby beams, resting his cheek on his palm as he trails the length of your arm to your face, his grin matching yours.”

“Like you.”

“I thought you didn’t want to be here—“

“Yeah, yeah, well I’m a man, and I’m not immune to what I see,” he cuts you off gently, reaching to grab the glass of water on the table, trying to hide his flushed face behind the cup.

“And what is that?”

“Don’t play coy with me now, you know what I’m talking about,” he rolls his eyes at you playfully when you laugh quietly. And he soon finds out he loves that sound, and he would do anything to hear it again, anything.

“It wouldn’t hurt to say it, you know,” you bite your lip, waiting for him to reply, “I like expressive men, there, I gave you a hint.”

“Then I’m the worst person on earth for you to go to a second date with,” Robby winces as the words leave his mouth, thinking of how insecure he must have sounded instead of funny, but you don’t cringe, you don’t frown at him, only chuckle and shrug.

“I’ll be the judge of that, but you need to answer my question first.”

“Which question?”

“What changed your mind?”

Robby thinks for a long moment. He doesn’t know what it actually is: your beauty? Probably, you looked like an angel waiting for him, and he is glad he could wipe the quick frown he forced on your face when he told you he didn’t know about the date. Your humor? Possibly. But in all senses, you in whole changed his mind, you feel like the person he can speak to, the only one who wouldn’t make fun of him for all the vinyls he has collected.

“You,” he says, scratching his beard, looking down at his fingers as he clears his throat, “you did. It’s been a long time since I went on a date, and every time I did… something felt wrong. You don’t feel wrong.”

“You don’t feel wrong either.” You say it with so much grace to him, so soft and pliant that he can’t believe it is directed at him, as if he deserves it, “I’m glad you didn’t stand me up.”

“I would never,” he tells you, sighing deeply like you have offended him, “and to show that I am truly interested, I’d like to take you out again.”

“You don’t even know my name!” You laugh, glancing at the waitress as she makes her way to you, before looking back at Robby, who runs his hands down his face, shoulders shaking as he chuckles.

“What is your name?”

••••

You agreed to come, you replied to his text, and agreed to come. Not once, not twice, not even three times, but ten times in the period you were apart. He asked for your name, got your number successfully without making a fool of himself. So there is no reason you shouldn’t show up. Right? Right.

But why are you late? Was it all… a fun night for you? Then why did you tell him you were on your way ten minutes ago? You will come, yes, you will, you have to, there isn’t anything stopping you from coming to this date. Maybe his favorite fucking recordshop wasn’t the best choice to take you out, but you begged him to show you a piece of himself, so here he is.

Stupid, he should have listened to Jack and taken you to the cinema.

“Robby, oh my gosh, finally!”

He turns around so fast he thinks he is about to get dizzy, but a giant smile covers his worry as he finally sees you, practically skipping over to him, panting when you reach him.

“Hey,” you hold onto his biceps as you catch your breath, his hands automatically coming to your arms to hold you steady as he mutters a soft ‘hello’ and squeezes you a bit, “It took me half an hour to find this place!”

“I thought I sent you the location,” he gives a questioning look, “I did, didn’t I? Samira helped me, and no, I know how to use my phone, but I was never required to share a location. Don’t make an old man joke.”

“When have I ever?!” You gasp dramatically, laughing when his face turns red, “No, don’t worry, you did send me your location. But it wasn’t exactly the right one.”

“What?” He is going to die from embarrassment; he is sure he will drop dead on the hot bricks under his shoes, “I’m sure I shared it right…”

“You chose two streets down this place… It’s all good now! I’m here, late, which I’m so sorry about, but I’m here!” You straighten your back, giving him one of those radiant smiles he has grown quite fond of, before you wait for him to lead you inside.

“I guess I was nervous… sorry,” he rubs the back of his neck, feeling the heat spreading down to his chest as well, “but yeah, I’m really glad you could make it.”

“Are you kidding? I wouldn’t have lost the chance to get to know you more! Of course I’d show up!”

“I’m glad,” is all he can say, before he notices how much his cheeks are hurting from smiling back at you. He manages to walk a few steps ahead, opening the door and waiting for you to enter, “Ladies first.”

“What a gentleman,” you walk past him, waiting for him to join you as you step to the side, suddenly looking out of place, “Show me around?”

“Of course, we should go upstairs,” he walks side by side with you, “I’ve been coming here since I got hired in The Pitt, it’s one of the oldest shops in the city, and sells vinyl only.”

“That’s so cool! To be fair, I’ve only been to record shops a few times, so I don’t know much about them,” you shrug, biting the inside of your cheek, bashful and grinning, “So I’m sorry, you have to explain everything to me.”

“Gladly,” he replies and pushes the door to the shop open, watching with amusement as you wait for him to enter this time, “Alright, come on.”

He walks inside, giving you enough space to join him. The atmosphere is warm and welcoming, enveloping you both in its entirety, and Robby feels instantly at home. The colors are brighter, the music feels more vibrant than ever, and you… Your beauty blends so nicely with your surroundings — like you belong there with him.

He shakes his head a little, leading you between rows of different Vinyls, stopping when he reaches a room full of records on the walls, shelves, and two rows in the middle with record players in the corner.

“A room full of one dollar records, one of my favorite places to spend time in—” he explains, but soon he is cut off guard when you slowly grab his hand, looking around the room like you don’t know what you have done.

Robby stops dead in his tracks as soon as you wrap your fingers around his hand, head slowly turning in your direction, only to find you innocently shrugging and pulling at your bottom lip.

“I can— if you’re uncomfortable—“

“No, no, absolutely not,” he stops you before you can say more, smiling as his cheeks turn red again, “I… like it.”

“Good, show me the rest.” You squeeze his hand, and he tugs it forward gently, pulling you inside the room.

He feels like a freaking teenager again. He is fifty, fifty for fuck’s sake, yet he is explaining everything about these records to you, trying to stare at you all the time because if he does, he would melt under your gaze.

“I’ve always wanted to have this,” he says, showing you a record of Pale Blue Eyes by The Velvet Underground at the end of your tour in the shop, “I don’t know why I’ve never bought it, probably because I have tons of untouched records at home.”

“I buy it for you.” You gently grab it from his hands, pulling him towards the cash register, handing them the vinyl before Robby has the chance to snatch it out of your hand, “No complaints!”

“I can’t let you do that,” he reaches for his wallet, but you grab his other hand as well, stopping him from moving, standing forward to lace your fingers through his and looking up into his eyes, “I’m serious.”

“So am I, you paid for my dinner when you were forced to come, the least I can do is to buy you a simple record,” you tell him, letting go of one of his hands to pay the cashier, pulling Robby behind you as soon as you hand him the bag, “Thank you for today, I loved it!”

“Thank you for coming, honey,” he says, smiling softly when you come closer, craning your neck to look up at him. “I… I’m glad you had fun.”

“Couldn’t ask for a better date,” you grin at him, letting go of his hand to wrap them around his waist, laying your head on his chest, hiding your smile when you hear how hard his heart is beating, “When’s our next date?”

“Whenever you’d like,” he wraps his arms around you, too, kissing the crown of your head, sighing softly as he smells the scent of your shampoo, “I’d like to get to know you more.”

“I’ll think about it,” you beam at him, standing up on your toes to kiss his cheek, pulling away before he can react, leaving him blushing and smiling like an idiot, “Call you later?”

“Yeah, please do.”

••••

“Robby! Are you kidding me?”

“I’m not, honey,” he chuckles, hugging you back just as tightly when you jump into his arms, “You said you wanna go and well, I had the day off.”

“You had the day off, or you found another attendee to fill in your place?” You ask, hanging from his neck, and he rests his palms on your waist, rubbing your back and dragging his eyes down your sundress, “What do you think?”

“Fucking beautiful,” he breathes out, pulling back a little to take a better look at you, closing the distance so he can press a soft kiss on your forehead, “I can never get enough of you.”

“Juuust how I like you,” you caress the nape of his neck, leaning up to kiss his cheek before grabbing his hand, threading your fingers through his, before you both walk inside the gallery.

It has been a good four months since your first date, and Robby, true to his words, made these four months worth your time. He always manages to call you during the chaotic shifts he spends in the hospital to spend dinners at your place. He has kept the date at his house still on hold so he can treat you as best as he can.

Pet names have become a regular thing in your relationship, he loves how you get flustered and shy as soon as he casually drops another pet name to you, he adores your rambling behind the phone when something in particular annoys you at your work, or when you’d cuddle him to sleep when he reads to you — apparently his voice is ‘magical’ so you say.

“Jack’s covering for me, he owes me,” he shrugs, pulling you inside the gallery, turning around to glance at you, “Don’t say you feel bad for him, he deserves it.”

“Take it easy on him, will you?” You step next to him, resting your chin on his chest, “If it wasn’t for him, we wouldn’t be here together.”

“I hate to admit that he did this,” he rolls his eyes, hand coming up to cradle your face, thumb caressing your cheek before he pulls back before he does something that surprises you both, “Show me around, honey.”

“With pleasure, Doctor Robby,” you drag him inside, and he lets you walk around the room with a skip in your step, pointing at different paintings, “You know, the museum showcased twenty two of this artist’s works? It was huge, I wish I could attend it back then.”

Robby just listens, holding onto your hand as you lead him around the gallery, voice soothing and beautiful as you give him information he will forget later, but he still listens intently, nodding and smiling when you catch him staring at you.

“Sassetta – The Virgin of Humility Crowned by Two Angels,” you read the name, stopping in front of the painting, “It’s an Italian Renaissance painting, early fifteenth century, and it shows the Madonna sitting humbly while being surrounded by angels. I like it, I don’t know why, but I do.”

You pull on his arm again, guiding him to another painting, talking about them so enthusiastically, and it warms Robby’s heart. When was the last time he had felt like this? So fuzzy and content? He doesn’t remember, he doesn’t care, not when you are showing him around all happy and smiling because you finally got to visit the place you wanted after a long time, and he is over the moon that he could make this happen for you.

“Enjoying the art?”

He doesn’t take his eyes off you when you ask him, and he doesn’t answer you either. So with a curious look, you turn around, only to find him gazing at you with such a soft expression on his face, brown eyes glimmering with love.

“Yeah, I am.”

“The paintings, Robby,” you giggle, pulling him closer, seeking his warmth.

“You’re more beautiful than all these paintings,” he confesses. When did your lips start to look so kissable? They are taunting him, looking back at him, almost begging to be kissed.

It’s impulsive; he shouldn’t do it, not here, not in front of all of these people. But he can’t help himself, his self control is gone, nonexistent even. So he puts his hand on your waist, tucking you into his chest as he dips down, locking his lips with yours.

You taste like vanilla buttercream (how the fuck it is possible, he doesn’t know and frankly, he can’t care less), your perfume is much strong now, the scent filling his senses with such intensity that he deepens the kiss as soon as you loop your arms around his neck.

Ridiculous, he should have kissed you on top of the Eiffel tower or a boat crossing a river, or with Jack popping a confetti over your heads — but it happens now, in a moment of haste, in the middle of a gallery, after four months of growing closer and closer.

It is the best kiss he has ever had.

He pulls back slowly, finally dawning on him what he just did. He kissed you, in front of everyone, in a public space, but… it felt so good, so real, so sweet and deeply comforting, like he was meant to do it.

“Robby…”

“Fuck, I’m sorry—“

“Don’t be, don’t—“ you press your fingers to his lips, biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning and kissing him again, “Come with me, people are staring.”

“Fuck,” he lets out a breathless chuckle, letting you grab his hand and guide him outside, trailing after you like a puppy with his tail between his legs and a very deep blush on running down his face and chest.

You pull him into the alley next to the gallery, trailing your hands up his chest slowly, holding the side of his neck, gently caressing his throat, thumb bobbing as he swallows. You pull him down slowly, pecking his lips so softly he thinks he might turn into dust.

Robby, though, is losing the last shred of control he has on his body. He is trying to be nice, but he can’t, not when you are tilting your head and pulling him closer. He spreads his palm over your waist, one running down to hold you by the neck, deepening the kiss like he needs to breathe the air in your lungs.

“Get a rooooom.”

You and Robby pull away immediately, looking to find a disgusted teenage boy looking at you with a frown, snorting when you apologize hurriedly. He walks past you and Robby a second later, leaving the two of you heaving and smiling from ear to ear.

You are the first to crack, biting down your fingers to muffle your laughter, only for Robby to groan and chuckle, resting his forehead on your shoulder as he tries to make himself look small, hands circling your body to hold you close.

“Thank you for today,” you cup his cheek, forcing him to look into your eyes, “Especially for the kiss.”

“That was spontaneous…” he reddens more, his hands going to hold on to your hips, “But I’m glad I did it, it was bound to happen…”

“Mhm, yup,” you scratch the nape of his neck slowly, watching him closely as he sighs and leans into your touch, “Wanna kiss me more?”

“Thought you’d never ask, honey.”

••••••

Robby sighs deeply, rethinking his life choices as he chops the potatoes as best as he can. He spent hours in surgeon rotation back in med school, he even does srugery in the ER rooms for fuck’s sake, so why do his pieces look anything but sharp? He is going to lose his mind if he keeps thinking about it.

He promised you dinner, a good one, you insisted you would bring the wine, and he caved in. Now, all he needs to do is cook these filet steaks as best as he possibly can. He doesn’t know much about cooking, but he had to invite you to his place; it only seemed right because he had slept countless nights at yours.

So he is going to do his best.

There is a knock on his door, a soft pattern he recognizes immediately. Robby wipes his hands on the towel he has thrown over his shoulder, marching to the door to open it for you, finding you leaning on the wall with a bottle of red wine in hand.

“Hey there, handsome.”

“Hello, honey,” he grins and pulls you in with a hand on your hip, locking his lips on yours in haste, pressing you to the door as soon as he closes it. “Welcome to my cramped apartment.”

“Hush, I love it!” You peck his lips, letting him lead you inside towards the kitchen, “Where’s your record stash?”

“In the reading room, and no, you can’t go there. I had to push everything inside there to make the house look tidy since I didn’t have time to clean up like I wanted to.”

“What do you mean you didn’t have time?” you ask, following him into the kitchen, “Robby, baby, look at me—”

He turns around, sucking the inside o fhis cheek as you cup his face, waiting for him to say anything. He thought he would be able to hide it from you so you wouldn’t get worried, but you have grown quite well at reading him.

“I promise I started my shift early to rest before you get here—”

“You told me you had the day off,” he cringes at your serious tone, but soon a small smile covers his face when you rub his beard, looking at him with nothing but sympathy. “Go sit down, I’ll cook—”

“Absolutely not,” he corners you against the counter, forearm protecting your back as he rests his hand on the edge, pressing himself into your body, “You’ve already done so much for me, let me take care of you tonight.”

“How are you going to take care of me?” You run your fingers up his sides, hands slipping under his shirt to feel the warmth of his skin, “Is something going to happen tonight?”

“Do you want it to happen?” he asks, leaning down, hovering his lips over yours, feeling your hot breath fanning on his face, his eyes drawn to your mouth.

“Mhm,” you nod, wrapping your arms around his torso, “I do, and I want it to happen now.”

“You don’t want to see how I ditched culinary school for medicine? Rude,” he skips your lips, kissing your cheek down to your jaw, “Forget dinner, I wanna taste you.”

He feels you suck in a sharp breath, tilting your head to the side to give him more space as he mouths at your skin, biting and nibbling and moving down to your pulse point, making you hiss into his ear.

“Robby—“ you gasp when he bends his knees a little, grabbing the back of your thighs to pick you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist as he walks to his bedroom, kicking the door open before he lowers you on the bed gently.

You close your eyes, feeling him grabbing the back of your leg to take off your heels, pressing a gentle kiss on your ankle when he drops your shoes on the floor, moving his lips up the path of your leg, tapping your thigh so you would scoot up on the bed.

“Open your eyes, honey,” he whispers, settling on his stomach between your thighs, “Need you to look at me, come on.”

You slowly open your eyelids, biting on your lip as you find him reaching your side to pull down the zipper of your dress, sliding his fingers beneath the fabric to feel the curve of your breast.

“Take it off for me, please,” he sounds wrecked already. He has imagined this moment in some dark moments when he would allow his imagination to wander freely, “I have to see you.”

“Okay,” you let out a shaky breath, sitting up after you throw your legs over his shoulders, pulling your dress off and lying back on the bed, only in your underwear, breasts exposed to the chilly air in the room.

Robby’s eyes darken with desire, hands moving up your belly to grope your tits, muttering a low ‘fuck’ as he pinches your nipple, pushing his shoulders under your thighs to spread your legs more.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” he groans, nipping at the skin around your belly button, sinking his teeth into the flesh to earn a gasp from you, “I’m gonna make you feel so good, honey.”

“Please do,” you sit up on your elbows, reaching for his head to run your fingers through his hair, “Don’t keep a girl waiting, baby.”

He smirks, fingers pulling on the hem of your underwear, slowly taking it off before he locks his eyes with yours and starts kissing your inner thighs, moving to where you need him the most with patience.

You look like heaven itself, and taste even better when he licks a fat stripe from the seam of your pussy, humming as he closes his lips, genuinely enjoying the way your hips twitch under his touch.

“Oh…” you sigh when he starts sucking on your buzzing clit, flattening his tongue on your folds as he drinks your essence. You push his face into you a bit roughly, closing your legs around his neck as he moves faster, lips drawing patterns with an enthusiasm that has you throwing your head back.

He smiles against you, his beard burning your pussy in the most delicious way, and he knows with the way you are gasping and moaning, he knows you are feeling the euphoria slowly building up in your core.

He grabs one of your thighs, pushing it against your belly so he has room to push a finger inside without detaching himself from your cunt, thrusting the digit inside with so much care as if you will break.

“More,” you dig your nails into his scalp, bucking your hips to his face, moaning louder when he adds another finger, curving them both inside you. His fingers are thick, thicker than you expected, and they stretch you out just beautifully.

You feel the knot in your stomach breaking, your elbows giving out as you drop back on the bed, legs shaking around his head as you arch your back, releasing all over his face.

Robby buries his face into you, smothering himself as he laps up your wetness eagerly, drinking you like a nectar. He keeps your hips pressed to the mattress while he fucks you with his fingers through your orgasm.

“Shit, baby, that was… fuck,” you laugh breathlessly, pulling him up by his neck, “Take off your clothes, you’re too dressed for my liking.”

“You good?” He chuckles, kicking off his shoes and pants, unbuttoning his shirt only for you to push it down hurriedly, pulling him down on top of you to chase his lips into a passionate kiss, tasting yourself on his beard.

“Don’t make me wait, I swear if you do—“

“I won’t, I won’t,” he says, pushing his boxers down in haste, making home between your legs, grabbing his cock in a tight grip, stroking himself, “Fuck, I can’t believe we waited this long.”

“Jesus Christ, Robby,” you swallow as you look at his dick in his hand; fat, hot, heavy and ready to fuck you into oblivion, “You’re big.”

He turns red, bright and beautiful, but he soon closes the distance and kisses you, guiding the red tip of his cock to your entrance, gently rocking his hips forward, inhaling sharply as he pushes past the first ring of muscles.

You moan into his mouth, hands flying to his shoulders to ground yourself as he pushes inside you, filling you with all he has got in him, caging you under his weight with his belly pressed to yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, hiding his face into your neck, pulling out halfway before easing his length inside your puffy cunt again, “I’ll keep you on my bed forever if I could.”

“You can, baby,” you gasp, nails scratching Robby’s back as he picks up his pace, no longer as sweet as he thought he would go, but now faster, rougher, more urgent and needy. The lewd sound of his hips slamming next to yours echoes in the bedroom, only adding to the fuel of your desire: “You can keep me here as long as you want.”

“Fuck, ‘m not gonna last long,” he whispers into your ear, holding himself up with his forearms around your head, moans and deep breaths filling your hair as he fucks you harder.

You whine in his throat, pressing your lips into his Adam's apple as you feel your walls clenching around his girth, crying out when he angles his hips to hit your sweet spot, groaning as you quiver beneath him.

Wailing, you cling to Robby’s body as you gush around him, waves of pleasure hitting your body as he follows you closely, growling at the sensation of your cunt clamping around him tightly.

He pulls out, fisting his cock a few times before he comes on your stomach, groaning from the depths of his chest as he empties his balls on you, and you hold him through it.

“That was amazing,” you kiss his forehead, holding him close as he shakes on top of you, gently lowering his weight on you to catch his breath, “You were amazing.”

“I love you.”

There, out in the open, three little words that he has wanted to say for the past six months ever since he set his eyes on you. Pulling back a bit to look into your eyes, he doesn’t regret it, he had to say it, utter the sentence softly so he can make his feelings known.

“I love you, too.” You cup his cheek, pulling him closer, “I love you, Robby, so so much.”

He kisses you again, this time soft and endearing, full of unspoken promises. He swipes his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing the muscle into your mouth, exploring your taste deeply.

“I’m gonna go clean up, I’ll come, honey.” He lets go of your lips with a lewd ‘pop’, kissing the corner of your mouth. You nod, scooting up to lie on his pillows, watching as he walks stark naked into the en-suite bathroom to clean himself up, coming in with a warm rag to wipe you off as well.

“Wine?” You ask, jumping off the bed as soon as he agrees, running to the kitchen and coming back with his phone and the bottle you brought earlier and a corkscrew, “There you go.”

“What’s the phone for?” He looks at you, grabbing the bottle from you as you crawl into his lap, popping the cork before he puts the wine aside to breathe, hands coming up to hold you by your hips, laughing when you raise his phone in your face, “What’s that for?”

“Pictures!” You laugh too, taking a few pictures of him, smirking as you notice a few blooming marks on his throat, “There, now you have some juicy photos to put as your profile picture in dating apps.”

“I’ve already found my match,” he says, squeezing your flesh, smiling when you bite your lips, looking down at his chest shyly.

“Yeah?” You lean forward, nudging your nose with his, “Plan on keeping your match forever?”

“If she lets me,” there it is again, the fucking butterflies in his belly, “I’d love to keep her as long as she lets me. For days, months, even years.”

#michael robinavitch #dr robby x reader #Dr robby smut #dr robby x you #Dr robby fluff #michael robinavitch smut #michael robinavich x reader #Michael robinavitch fluff #jack abbot x samira mohan

631 notes · View notes

l4ndoflove · 2 months ago

Text

dj got us fallin' in love

feat. ???

lyrics preview the saudi arabian post-race party gets you stuck in a love triangle with the infamous papaya boys

maddie this was requested by the lovely @littleemmi for the 100 celebration! i'm not telling you who the driver is so you guys can try and figure it out yourselves ;)

with @.haileesteinfeld

norrislando_fans

❤️ 76.3K 💬 11.8K

norrislando_fans lando celebrating in jeddah after the race 💜🎧

comments

user1 celebrating what exactly?

user2 finishing behind piastri again 😂

user3 his last race as the championship leader lol

user4 are you seriously still talking shit about him after he went from p10 to p4

user5 lando hate is so forced i swear

user6 louder please 🙏

user7 OMG DJ LANDO IS BACK

user8 YESSS I MISSED HIM

user9 who is she

user10 a misty memoryyyyy

user11 😐

user12 she's living every fangirl's dream

user13 no bc imagine standing this close to LANDO FREAKING NORRIS

user14 oh to be her

user15 luckiest girl alive 💔

user16 WHY IS HE STARING INTO HER SOUL LIKE THAT LMAO

user17 bro if lando ever looked at me that way i would pass out

user18 where i come from we call that foreplay ☝️

user19 guys please leave them alone they're eye fucking

user20 wait isn't that magui?

user21 clearly not

user22 how are you so sure

user23 fr she's not even showing her face

user24 SOMEONE PLEASE FIND HER @

user25 they definitely kissed after that

lando

🎵 dj got us fallin' in love • usher (feat. pitbull)

❤️ 1.8M 💬 17.3K

liked by youruser, oscarpiastri, maxfewtrell and others

lando sick party

comments

maxfewtrell damn mate chill

maxfewtrell is that even legal 😱

maxfewtrell i hope they kicked your ass out

maxfewtrell kids these days

maxfewtrell jeez

lando stop spamming my comment section you muppet

maxfewtrell i'm the only one acknowledging this dumbass post fuck off

user26 old married couple vibes

lando old 🤨

maxfewtrell married 🤨🤨

user27 didn’t deny the couple bit though

user28 bro was higher than the sky in the first pic

user29 how he felt after taking that photo: 😈🔥🗿

lando pretty much

user30 party lando is my favorite lando

user31 not him tagging a random girl instead of max 💀

maxfewtrell dickhead

user32 HE DID THE WORK FOR US HELP

user33 we're all stalking her profile now right

user34 thank god it wasn't magui

user35 you have no idea how relieved i am

user36 she's actually so pretty what

user37 okay i get why he went for her

user38 10/10 would smash

user39 WOAH BROTHER (me too)

user40 when will it be my turn 😫

user41 relax bro ain't nobody taking her from you

maxfewtrell yeah i wouldn’t be so sure about that

user42 wtf does this mean

user43 MAX TELL US WHAT YOU KNOW

maxfewtrell 🫥

user44 NO WE NEED DETAILS PLEASE

user45 sir??? the lip bite???

youruser

❤️ 34.2K 💬 3,156

liked by bestieuser, lando, oscarpiastri and others

youruser 5k new followers overnight... you guys okay?

comments

bestieuser WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAACK

youruser not you too 🔫😀

bestieuser yes me too

bestieuser girl i told you he was famous

bestieuser you know what they say "with great fucking comes great fame" or whatever

youruser OH MY GOD WE DIDN'T FUCK

youruser STOP SPREADING MISINFORMATION YOU SICK WOMAN

bestieuser you stop spreading your legs first 🙄

youruser i'm blocking you

user46 i was here for two minutes and i already love her

user47 so lando tagged her but she didn't tag him?

user48 probably didn't want the attention

user49 spoiler: she got it anyway because lando doesn't know what "privacy" means

user50 not to be weird but i'd let her step on me

youruser so this is what having a fanboy feels like

bestieuser thought you knew after yesterday

youruser what. is. your. problem.

bestieuser you. gatekeeping all the juicy gossip.

user51 i've never loved someone so much

user52 she's my new favorite person

user53 in my head we're best friends

bestieuser see @.youruser??? they love me 🖕

youruser guys please don't encourage her

user54 BOOO GATEKEEPING IS FOR THE WEAK 👎🍅

❤️ by bestieuser

youruser what did i do to deserve this

user55 that outfit is criminal

user56 what's criminal is that he didn’t take it off

youruser 😦

youruser should i be worried @.lando?

lando nah it happens

user57 THE MULLET IS FIRE

user58 meanwhile oscar chilling in the likes

user59 i wonder if he was with them too

user60 he won so probably yes

f1wags._

❤️ 61.8K 💬 9,416

f1wags._ lando sharing his private jet with a mystery girl in saudi arabia 👀

comments

user61 that ain't no mystery girl that's yn 💀

user62 SHE TROLLED US SO BAD

user63 and she was smooth with it too

user64 "we didn't fuck" well you're about to

user65 someone's joining the high mile club today

user66 DAMN

user67 same outfit, same car, same plane but no they're not together 👍

user68 MAKE IT MAKE SENSE

user69 TAKE ME WITH YOU 🛐

user70 if only i could be a fly on the wall

user71 i bet you'd witness unspeakable things

user72 why did we all collectively decide that they're going to do the nasty 😭

user73 what else would they do?

user74 idk maybe talk??

user75 isn't that a little bit excessive after literally one night of knowing each other

user76 that's how love at first fuck works ig 🤷‍♀️

youruser STOP IT WITH THE SEX JOKES

user77 there she is

user78 who summoned her

user79 hi bae we missed you 🫶

user80 bestie joined the f1 fandom and got traumatized in less than one day

oscarpiastri_fans

❤️ 48K 💬 6,121

liked by bestieuser and others

oscarpiastri_fans @.oscarpiastri and @.youruser today at the mtc!

comments

user81 ✨️what the fuck✨️

user82 did we miss something orrr

user83 that's where lando brought her???

user84 they're so soft couple coded aww

user85 oh okay i kinda ship this

user86 i can't tell if you guys are serious or not

user85 why wouldn't we be?

user86 you thought she was shagging lando until this morning

user87 shagging isn't the word i would've used but i agree

user88 THE HEIGHT DIFFERENCE HELLO

user89 she reaches his shoulder i can't 🫠

user90 i don't remember oscar being this tall though

bestieuser he's not but yn is short af sooo

youruser uh fuck you!?

bestieuser me too? isn't lando enough?

youruser everyday i wake up [crying]

f1gossippofficial

❤️ 98.5K 💬 11.1K

liked by bestieuser and others

f1gossippofficial lando and oscar brought a special guest to the paddock and spent the morning together in the mclaren garage 🩷

comments

user91 WHAT IS THIS

user92 are we witnessing landoscar happen in real life

user93 what in the wattpad love triangle

user94 i smell pr stunt

user95 if it is i'm sorry but they're not very good at it 💀

user96 lando should've just stuck with magui at this point

user97 you were all hating on her like two days ago pick a side

user98 what about yn picks a boy first

user99 girl really said: "lando or oscar?" "both. both is good"

user100 can't blame her honestly 🤷‍♀️

user101 okay but seriously who is she dating

user102 who said she's dating anyone

user103 DUDE AREN'T THESE PICTURES ENOUGH 😭😭😭

user104 there's something called "being friends" yk

user105 hate to break it to you but that's not what this is

user106 whatever floats your ship ig

user107 LMAOOO

bestieuser alright folks let's settle this down once and for all

youruser WHY ARE YOU EVERYWHERE

bestieuser shut up and let me do my job

bestieuser so who took my bitch:

bestieuser lando

❤️ 19620

bestieuser oscar

❤️ 10617

bestieuser i see you're all going for the safest answer

bestieuser interesting

youruser why tf did you turn my love life into a multiple choice question

bestieuser "love life" you say? 🧐

bestieuser sorry babe i think everybody saw that 😔🙏

user108 LANDO’S SMILE ❓️❓️❓️

user109 somebody's in looove 🤭

user110 i call oscar

lando youruser oscarpiastri

user111 HARD LAUNCH???

user112 SHE'S SO CUTE STOP

user113 big gremlin and tiny gremlin 💗💗💗

user114 THEY HAVE THE SAME SMILE I CAN'T

bestieuser blink twice if you were forced to do this

youruser 👁👁⚫️⚫️👁👁⚫️⚫️

bestieuser BRO WHAT IS THAT HAHAHA

youruser blinking duh???

youruser i was being held hostage 😰

lando liar

lando 🫵 you wanted this

user115 i'll physically fight anyone who dares to say they're not a couple

oscarpiastri ☝️😮

bestieuser speak up lover boy

user116 yeah girl we figured 🙄

user117 who are you actually going for tho

user118 i NEED to know who took that photo

user119 well we all know lando has a thing for photography

bestieuser fair but do you know who has a thing for the subject 🫢

user120 ???

user121 pretty 🥹

user122 this is too soft i'm gonna cry

user123 now say it with me: they! are! dating!

bestieuser yayyy 🥳

user124 GIRL IT'S TRUE???

bestieuser idk i just love saying random shit and watch you guys freak out ❤️

user125 you scare me

bestieuser yeah i have that effect on people

user126 THE SONG CHOICE AAAAAH

user127 you can't convince me that was casual

user128 THERE SHE GOES (my ship 🥰)

user129 help now i'm confused

user130 me too i have no idea what to think anymore

oscarpiastri

❤️ 1.1M 💬 12.2K

liked by youruser, lando, bestieuser and others

oscarpiastri yeah

comments

bestieuser MAMA Y PAPA 🦘🐨🫶

bestieuser fucking finally

bestieuser took you long enough

bestieuser btw where are my credits for the second picture 🤨

bestieuser my professional third wheeling ain't for free @.youruser

youruser wdym you love third wheeling us

bestieuser also true

user131 oscar what is that dry ass caption 😭

user132 might as well put bwoah

user133 LITERALLY THE FIRST THING I THOUGHT

user134 WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON

user135 proud to say i've been a ynoscar truther since day 1 💪

user136 now that i know i was right all along i can die peacefully

user137 WTFFF

user138 THEY LOOK SO HAPPY AND INNOCENT AND PURE I HOPE THEY NEVER EVER BREAK UP

❤️ by oscarpiastri and youruser

user139 if they do i'm suing

user140 new comfort couple

user141 am i the only one who finds this weird? i mean we all saw that photo of her flirting with lando a week ago...

youruser if you think asking a guy for his friend's number is flirting i have bad news for you buddy

user142 QUEEN BEHAVIOR

user143 i'm picturing her walking up to lando and him being all confident and shit and then she goes "your teammate's kinda cute"

bestieuser accuracy level: 100%

lando lowest moment of my career

youruser glad i humbled you then 😚

user144 i will never unsee this now

user145 DJ LANDO REALLY GOT THEM FALLING IN LOVE

❤️ by youruser, yourbestie, oscarpiastri and lando

820 notes · View notes

magnagaruzenmon · 14 days ago

Text

Inbetween

Just a short little something after seeing these sexy pics

You were just putting the final card into your new Vanguard deck when your phone buzzed. A photo from Jiheon popped up — a blurry selfie of her sprawled on the couch, blanket tangled around her legs, hair in a loose bun. She looked pouty and bored. Underneath, a message:

“Come over. I’m lonely.”

You rolled your eyes, but already your keys were in your hand.

The drive to Jiheon’s place felt familiar — the kind of route your car could take blindfolded. You thought about how long you’d known her. Since your last year of college, and her second. You’d met by accident — you were sliding out of a seat in a lecture hall when she turned to you and said, “Why are you in this class? Isn’t this like, Intro 101?”

You’d raised an eyebrow and explained that her “intro” class was actually a right after for your higher-level course the course she just sat through. She blinked, then grinned.

“Oh. Okay, Mr. Smartypants.”

She’d called you that ever since.

From that moment on, she was a constant in your life. Bright-eyed, sarcastic, fiercely loyal. You’d seen her through all kinds of chaos — tear-stained breakups, half-baked get-rich schemes, failed job interviews and small personal triumphs that felt like gold medals. No matter what, Jiheon carried it all with a crooked smile and a razor-edged wit that never dulled.

You pulled into her complex and headed up without knocking. The apartment was quiet — suspiciously quiet. No Hayoung. No Nagyung. Not even Jiwon’s voice echoing off the kitchen walls. Just Jiheon.

You found her in the bathroom, sitting on the counter in a hoodie three sizes too big, idly brushing her hair. She looked up and beamed when she saw you.

“Ah! You came!”

You frowned at her, genuinely confused by her excitement.

“Yeah… you’re my friend? Why are you acting surprised?”

She gave you a look and tossed the brush down.

“Don’t get smart with me. You’ve been MIA. Work, your move — I haven’t seen you in, like, forever.”

You leaned against the doorframe with a sigh.

“That was two weeks ago. And all of last week you were busy with what’s-his-name. How’s that going, by the way?”

Jiheon’s expression faltered. She looked away for a second before muttering,

“I visited him at work. He was sleeping with his boss.”

The bathroom went quiet, save for the sound of the brush clattering on the counter. You winced.

“Damn. Well, fuck him. Honestly, he was forgettable anyway.”

She laughed, but it was small and tired.

“Thanks, Smartypants.”

You smile and say, “Anytime.”

The two of you sit in the quiet hum of her apartment, the kind of silence only close friends can share without it feeling awkward. Jiheon leans her head against your shoulder, absently pulling the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands as the TV flickers in front of you, muted.

Her presence is warm, familiar. You’d sat like this a hundred times before — post-breakup, post-party, post-bad-days — but something in the air felt different now. Maybe it was the way her hair smelled faintly like vanilla shampoo, or how her fingers brushed against yours without pulling away.

A minute passes. Maybe two. You shift your weight, then stand up.

“Let’s go on a date.”

She blinks, turning toward you from where she’s curled up on the couch.

“Huh?”

The word drops out of her like a reflex — confused, caught off guard. Her brows knit, her lips part just slightly.

You look down at her, hands in your pockets, speaking more from instinct than plan.

“I dunno. It just seemed like a good idea.”

You watch as she processes. Her eyes search your face for a punchline, but find none. She sits up straighter now, not alarmed, but suddenly very alert — like she’s trying to make sense of a new rule in a game she thought she’d already mastered.

“You mean like—” she gestures vaguely between you, “—us? A real date?”

You nod once, not backing away from her gaze.

“Yeah. You and me. Dinner. A movie. We can even pretend we don’t already know each other’s favorite orders and the name of your fourth grade math teacher.”

She lets out a soft laugh at that, eyes wide but not retreating. There’s a long beat, and then she says, quieter now:

“Why now?”

You consider it for a moment. The easy answer would be “why not?” But you owe her honesty.

“Because… when you said you were lonely, I realized I’ve been lonely too. But not in the way I thought. I missed you. Not just the hanging out, or the games, or the texts. I missed us. And maybe we’ve been pretending for a while now that there’s nothing more here… but I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

She swallows, her mouth parting again like she wants to say something, but can’t quite find the words yet.

You smile gently and add, “We can keep sitting here like always. We can forget I said anything. But if there’s even a small part of you that wants to see where this could go… come with me.”

The pause that follows isn’t filled with tension — it’s filled with a quiet possibility, like the moment before the first card is played in a match that means something.

Then, finally, Jiheon stands too. Slowly. Thoughtfully.

“Okay,” she says.

“But you’re paying.”

You grin. “Obviously.”

She rolls her eyes, but her smile betrays her.

You don’t even make it ten minutes down the road before things start to go wrong.

First, the restaurant you chose — a cute little ramen place she once mentioned in passing — turns out to be closed for renovations. Jiheon gives you a pitying look as you stare at the locked door like it might open if you believe hard enough.

“Strong start,” she deadpans.

“Bold of you to assume I don’t plan my failures ahead of time,” you reply.

Plan B? Tacos. But the GPS reroutes you three times, and Jiheon is clearly trying not to comment on how you nearly drive into a bike lane twice. By the time you find parking, it starts raining.

She looks at the sky, then at you.

“I knew I should’ve brought a jacket. This is how I die, isn’t it?”

“If I knew you were this dramatic I never would’ve asked you out.”

“You’ve known me for years. You absolutely knew I was this dramatic.”

The two of you make it into the taqueria drenched and laughing, clothes sticking awkwardly. Inside, you find one table left — directly under an air conditioner blasting arctic wind. Jiheon’s teeth chatter as she unwraps her taco.

“Romantic,” she says. “Free hypothermia with every meal.”

You raise your cup of horchata in mock-toast.

“To suffering.”

Despite it all — or maybe because of it all — the night starts to feel fun. Familiar. Real.

You fall into your usual rhythm: teasing, inside jokes, shared memories. She laughs until she nearly spits out her drink when you remind her of that time she tried to dye your hair “silver fox” and turned it lavender instead.

“You looked like a K-pop idol who got kicked out of the group for tax evasion.”

“You said I looked distinguished.”

“I lied. I was trying to protect your dignity.”

After dinner, the movie theater you’d picked is sold out, and the only other one nearby is showing the worst-looking romcom imaginable — Jiheon raises an eyebrow at you and says,

“You sure you’re not trying to make me break up with you mid-date?”

But you buy the tickets anyway, and to your shared horror… the movie ends up being hilariously awful. By the halfway point, Jiheon’s whisper-commentary is making you wheeze with laughter.

“Why is this man allergic to shirts? Is that a plot point?”

“I think it’s his trauma. Or maybe his fashion choices are the trauma.”

“God, they’re about to kiss again. You owe me popcorn refills.”

You both stumble out of the theater an hour later, wheezing and half-crying with laughter. You can’t remember the last time you had this much fun.

Back in the car, parked outside her apartment, there’s a quiet lull as the engine ticks softly. Jiheon looks at you. Not with her usual smirk or a sarcastic quip — but something softer, unreadable at first.

“That was terrible,” she says finally.

You grin. “Completely cursed.”

“And I still had the best night I’ve had in months.”

Your grin fades into something gentler.

“Yeah. Me too.”

She doesn’t look away, doesn’t laugh it off this time. Instead, she leans in — just slightly. Testing. Inviting.

“So… second date?”

“God, yes.”

She smiles, and this time it isn’t crooked or teasing — it’s full.

And then, finally, she kisses you.

Disaster or not, this is the best date either of you have ever had.

You smile as she breaks the kiss, her breath still brushing against your skin. She looks at you for a moment longer than necessary, eyes lingering like she’s memorizing your face. Then, almost shyly, she murmurs,

“Wanna come inside?”

You follow her in.

The apartment is dimly lit, warm and familiar. Her jacket lands in a heap on the couch, and she kicks off her sneakers with the casual chaos of someone who lives alone and likes it that way.

You glance around, noticing something’s off.

“Where’s the gang?” you ask, referring to her usual group of friends — loud, opinionated, always draped across her furniture like they pay rent.

Jiheon shrugs, already halfway through rummaging for snacks in the kitchen.

“I think they mentioned something about a carnival and the night market downtown.”

You blink.

“That sounds like fun. Why didn’t you go?”

She bounces slightly on her heels as she emerges from the kitchen, chips in hand, a little sheepish.

“Um… I don’t know. It felt weird? Like, everyone was hyped about it and I just… kept thinking about how cool it’d be to hang out with you, tbh.”

You give her a look — the kind that says “you are so bad at hiding how sincere you are.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

She grins unabashed.

“And I was right! We had a fantastic night.” Her voice is high with excitement, like she’s still riding the buzz of the evening.

You smile, softer this time.

“So… what now?”

Jiheon looks at you with a mischievous glint, hopping backwards toward the couch.

“I sit on your lap and play Overwatch, obviously.”

You snort.

“Okay, that’s a weirdly specific fantasy.”

She winks.

“Give me Eighteen minutes. Timer starts now.”

You assume she’s joking.

But sure enough, seventeen minutes and some change later, you’re seated on her couch, a controller in one hand, the other arm awkwardly draped as Jiheon settles herself squarely in your lap — headset on, fully immersed in a competitive match. She leans back slightly, totally at ease, like this is the most normal thing in the world.

It should be weird. It should be.

But it’s… weirdly comfortable.

The warm weight of her. The sound of her muttering callouts under her breath. The flicker of game colors dancing across her walls. The hum of the console. The faint scent of her shampoo.

Somewhere between her shouting “PUSH POINT, YOU COWARDS” and your third yawn, your eyelids start to droop. You barely notice it. Your body relaxes under hers, lulled by her voice and the gentle rhythm of explosions and victory music.

Jiheon glances down once, mid-match, and smiles when she realizes you’ve dozed off — one hand still loosely around her waist. She doesn’t say anything. Just shifts slightly to let you breathe easier, and keeps playing.

You wake up two hours later on the same couch but Jiheon is gone. You look around for her until you hear moaning from her bathroom. At first you ignore it until she says your name. You rush to her to find her playing with herself. At first your speechless until she says

“Since you’re here, fuck me!”

You barely have time to think before you undo your pants and your stroking your cock for her. Her look is so intense and inviting you just can’t help it. You don’t even think about getting a rubber or doing anything like that.

You slide inside with mind numbing ease as she takes all of you. You groan

“Fuck Heoni you feel so good,” Jiheon turns her face to yours and says,

“You’re so big inside me,” as she backs her ass up into you. You groan as she convulses around your cock.

“Shit Jiheon,” you say as you start thrusting inside her. She coos and moans as she feels you hit her cervix,

“Fuck keep going!” She moans as you keeping ramming your cock. Her breath is ragged as her see through top invites you to slip your hands under the shirt and grab her perfect mounds.

She moans as your hands run all over her body. Her walls are velvet as the happily let you venture deeper into her tight snatch. Jiheon moans before staring back at you,

“This is gonna need to be an every weekend thing now!” You growl. Jiheon smirks

“Does Mr Smarty pants love my pussy?” She teased as she clenches around you,

You groan and say “yes! It’s perfect,” Jiheon smiled then adds,

“Well then as long as we can go on cute dates and I can play overwatch while sitting in your lap I’ll happily let you fuck me,”

You smile and say, “I love you,” Jiheon blushes at that before running into her wall of release. She groans as her pussy tightens around you despairing to milk you for all your worth before she squirts all over your cock. You groan as she moans trying to outlast her but she gives you that sultry needy look and you lose it.

Three hard pumps more and you’re flooding her pussy with cum. You can’t help it. Seeing her in the bathroom mirror so lost to pleasure just sets you off.

As the both of you come down the bathroom door opens and the rest of Jiheon’s crew find you balls deep inside her. Chaeyoung laughs and says, “Took you two long enough!”

#k pop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #fromis 9 smut #jiheon #jiheon smut #Jiheon x reader

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amatariki · 28 days ago

Text

SOMEONE CALL THE DOCTOR 𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ got a case of a love bipolar

(𝓐UTREMENT) — your calm, gentle, and loving boyfriend suddenly snaps at you out of the blue... weird. but hes surely got his reasons, right?

天使ℳade :: idol!bf!park sunghoon x fem!reader ⋆˚✿˖° 𝒆𝒔𝒕. (5 txts + 1k words) (ℒ)lust. angst(???), kissing/skinship, not rlly much, probs more idk tell me in comments i suck at warnings

ᥫ᭡⊹ ࣪ ˖ (1) notification! a lil special in honor of the amazinf comeback our boys delivered. hoon's hands in the pic tho omg im not okay im not gwenchana ning ning ning. my first time doing texts im sorry if its ass. actually, sorry if this entire fic is ass lmaoo

💋 #reblog for kisses ☆゙ catalogue ˖°— 𝐕𝐎𝐋. 𝐗𝐕

You fluffed up Gaeul’s fur with one hand as she sat on your lap nibbling on her treat, trying not to squish her as cuteness aggression took over you.

You’d taken Gaeul out for a walk in an attempt to clear your clouded mind and get a breather.

You didn’t understand Sunghoon’s outburst over text earlier. He’d always been calm, sweet, and had a good temperament. So, it made no sense as to why he’d got mad at you when he typically took his time to either talk things out with you nicely or just stay quiet and give you the silent treatment when he was extremely mad.

There was only one rational explanation: you must have really messed up for him to snap.

You hoped everything would be fine when you got back. Hopefully, you two would talk things out, and things wouldn’t escalate to terrible positions when you got back home and saw him.

The air whisked your hair around your face as you stood up and continued down the path. As autumn arrived, it got chilly. Soon, the leaves would turn into beautiful shades of warm colors and start shedding in preparation for winter.

As you lost yourself to your positive thoughts and the sight of Gaeul now trotting curiously after a leaf in the air, your phone chimes due to an incoming notification, and you snap back into the present.

The entire time you were heading home, your mind was befuddled. The way Sunghoon acted, like he wasn’t mad at you in the morning, it was weirdly confusing.

Your heart raced while going up the elevator as your head conjured up worst case scenarios where something was terribly wrong and he was in danger.

You step into the house, looking around in confusion and surprise to see all the lights out. You kneel down and take off Gaeul’s vest and leash, letting her scamper into the apartment, probably searching for Sunghoon.

“Hoon?” you call out tentatively, a nervous edge to your voice.

You almost jump when Sunghoon appears in the dark hallway, your heart pounding against your chest.

“You scared me!” you exclaim breathily, forcing out a chuckle.

He just nods quietly, grabbing your wrist and tugging you along down the hallway.

“Sunghoon,” you start, nervous. “Wait, Sunghoon.” You pull your hand out of his grasp.

Sunghoon turns around, his brows knotting in confusion. “What?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper softly. “I’m sorry for making you mad this morning. I didn’t mean to be so…annoying.”

Sunghoon sighs at your words, remaining speechless as he rubs his temples.

“Who said you were being annoying?” he asks quietly.

“You did. You got mad at me,” you reason. “You never get mad and snap. You either talk it out with me or stay quiet.”

Sunghoon grabs your wrist and pulls you into his arms, wrapping them around your waist as his head fell to rest gently on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry I snapped,” he murmurs. “I didn’t mean to. I was just really stressed with practice and other things. I was mad because something went wrong, and I took that anger out on you. You didn’t do anything wrong."

“Forgive me, won’t you?” He pulls back, reverently pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll try my best to not take out my frustration on you from now on. I’m sorry. Keep texting me throughout the day, please. I love seeing your texts, they make me so happy.”

You nod, biting your lips. “Thank you,” you say, smiling. “I know you’ll try from now on.”

“Okay, great. Now c’mere.” Sunghoon quickly tugs you into the living room, eyes sparkling, not letting you finish your sentence.

“Hoon, wait, I’m gonna fall.”

Your eyes widen as he gently pushes you into a pillow fort. It’s filled with your pillows and blankets arranged neatly on a futon. At the foot of the futon is a bowl full of snacks, cups of ramen, a carton of juice, and a few cans of fizzy drinks. There’s a projector connected to Sunghoon’s tablet to watch movies and a lamp he dragged into the fort to light up the inside.

It looks absolutely breathtaking, and you can tell Sunghoon put a lot of time and effort into it after practice, despite being exhausted.

You look over your shoulder to thank him, but find that he’s disappeared.

“Hoon?” You call out, lifting the blankets he’s put together as drapes to step outside to find him.

He doesn’t give you a chance to do so as he reappears with a bouquet of gorgeous flowers: white tulips, white baby’s breaths, white roses, and your favorite flowers in your favorite color, all neatly wrapped together and tied up with ribbons.

“Happy anniversary, snowflake,” he wishes you, holding the bouquet out for you to accept. Even though he puts on a ‘hot, nonchalant, confident loverboy’ facade, you can see the shyness in his eyes as you accept the flowers.

“Thank you, Hoonie,” you reply, feeling all giddy as butterflies swarm wildly in your stomach. "Happy anniversary to you too."

“I was going to take you out to that new restaurant that recently opened,” Sunghoon reveals. “But their scheduling software encountered a problem and they gave our reservation to someone else and there were no other spots left open for today. So, I decided to put this together when I got home after Jake gave me the idea.”

You looked up at him with eyes filled with adoration. You honestly must have saved the world in your last life to have been blessed with such an amazing boyfriend.

Leaning on your tiptoes, you pressed your lips to Sunghoon’s, feeling him tilt his head to deepen it and kiss you harder.

“Thank you so much,” you say breathlessly when you two pull away, panting. “You’re really amazing, you know that?”

“Only for you,” he replies coolly, flashing you those vampire fangs that drove engenes crazy. “Hurry now, I think Gaeul’s getting hungry,” he says, gesturing to the dog who was circling your legs affectionately. “I’m hungry too.”

You chuckle, batting his chest. “Alright, I’m coming, let me put these somewhere.”

“Mhm,” Sunghoon hums simply, cupping your face to pepper kisses all over your face and a final one on your lips before he lets you out of his grip to put those flowers away.

------ᝰ‧₊ taglist open — nets! @k-films — ©amatariki 2k25

@chrrific @lezleeferguson-120 @koiiqqqq @ikeu05 @maewphoria

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natalianovnas · 1 month ago

Text

༄ `. 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐎𝐒

request (briefed) : beefy!nat x younger!gf where they date & nat is an off-social media person. reader refers nat as her sugar mommy constantly, reposts anything nat-related on her socials and post about nat all the time. also, nat being confused over movies/series references.

words count : 0.6k || masterlist

an : wrote this at 2 am while dozing off at times. though, i hope this is what you expected, anon 🥲 also decided turn it into a drabble :)

If anyone asked Natasha what it was like dating you, she’d pause, take a breath, and probably say, “It’s… a lot.”

Not in a bad way.

Just that she didn’t understand half the things that came out of your mouth.

You were pure sunshine—chaotic, internet-warped sunshine. You’d wake up in the morning, throw a leg over her solid frame, and whisper:

“Natty… you're my Roman-empire. I think about you daily.”

She’d blink sleepily, rubbing her eyes. “What does that mean?”

“You don’t get it because you are the Roman Empire.”

Cue you grinning like a gremlin while Natasha squints suspiciously, clearly trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not.

Your Instagram story was practically a shrine to Natasha: blurry gym pics, her figure caught mid-walk from behind, short videos of you two holding hands and so on.

Your Twitter had random tweets like:

> “having a six foot beefy assassin as a gf is a flex and a half.”

> pic of natasha fixing your hair with intense concentration

caption: “why is she treating me like a stray she picked up from the shelter? I like it anyway.”

> “do you think if i pretend to be helpless more, natasha will carry me around like a feral toddler?”

> nat just handed me her credit card and said “don’t be ridiculous” when i said i couldn’t afford the 40 dollar hair clip i wanted.

i’m marrying her tomorrow. sugar baby rights.

Thing was—Natasha didn’t have social media. She had a dusty Facebook from 2012 she forgot existed. She barely used her phone unless she was texting you “home in 10” or sending you blurry photos of cats she saw on patrol. So she had no idea her girlfriend had a mini fanbase who’d dubbed them “Sugar Mommy & Chaos Baby.”

One time, the two of you were walking downtown when you spotted a street mural—blue and red, faces opposing each other. You gasped.

“CaitVi real!”

Natasha paused, mid-sip of coffee. “What the hell is a CaitVi?”

You blinked at her. “League of Legends? Arcane? The sapphics?”

She narrowed her eyes, clearly unconvinced.

“Natasha, please.”

But then with a resigned sigh, you added. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

You tried to get her in on trends. One evening, you held your phone up and whined, “Come on, do it with me.”

“No.”

“Please.”

“Absolutely not.”

“You are the woman, Nat! You have arms like Wonder Woman, you open jars like it's daily occurence, you fixed my car with your bare hands.”

Natasha just sighed and looked away, hiding the way her mouth curved slightly at the corners.

Of course, you got her to do the trend. It got 3.4 million views. She still pretends she doesn’t know.

She knows you post pictures sometimes, little videos of you cuddling or her carrying you like you weigh nothing. She figures people think it’s cute. You show her a few posts here and there.

What she doesn’t know is that your followers are rabid.

They make edits. They comment things like:

> “MOTHER IS MOTHERING.”

“this is my roman empire.”

“she blinked. i barked.”

“sugar mommy supremacy.”

One lazy afternoon, Natasha scrolled through your phone. Her expression changed slowly as she found your Twitter.

“‘My sugar mommy bought me boba again. I win’? - I did not agree to be called that.”

“You paid for the boba.”

“You were crying because they didn’t have the pink cup.”

You batted your lashes, “And you made them check the back. Sugar mommy behavior.”

She gave you that look—half amused, half exasperated, all soft. “I’m going to regret asking this, but… what else have you posted about me?”

You just grinned and pulled up the folder titled “MY NAT.”

“Would you like to start with the gym thirst edits or the ‘Natasha vs my electric bill’ memes?”

Natasha groaned, but she didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day.

#𓂃 ๋ ࣭ 𔘓 natalianovnas #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha drabble

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demie90s · 29 days ago

Note

Ok so we saw reader being down bad for the team but what about the team being down bad for reader

UConn x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Where the Hell Is She?

MASTERLIST | MORE

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ:Reader’s always around. Always clinging to someone, stretched out across a teammate’s lap, braiding hair during film. But today? She’s gone.

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ:Team angst, soft yearning, fluff, a little chaotic love

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ:Mild language, thirsting teammates, clingy team dynamic, sapphic tension

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: ~0.5k

ᴠɪʙᴇ:“Why does the gym feel cold?” / “It smells like her hoodie.” / “I literally can’t stretch without her sitting on me.” / “Tell her to come back I’m gonna freak out.”

It starts small.

KK walks into the gym and looks around like someone forgot to turn the lights on. She blinks twice, turns to Ice, and whispers, “It’s quiet.”

Too quiet.

No one’s sitting on the benches singing old Beyoncé. No one’s draped across a pile of duffel bags pretending they’re royalty. No one’s running up behind Nika just to jump on her back like it’s a routine.

She’s gone. And the silence is loud.

“Where is she?” Caroline asks mid-stretch, glancing at the locker room door like reader might come bursting through late—dramatic, loud, laughing, holding a smoothie for someone that isn’t even hers.

Coach Geno shrugs like it’s casual.

“She’s got class until 5. Some labs and meetings. Told her to take the day off.”

The gym deflates.

“The whole day?” Aaliyah asks.

Bri mutters, “I don’t like that.”

They try to focus, really—they do. But it’s hard when no one’s offering to braid your hair. Or fix your sock. Or call you “baby” in front of Coach just to stir the pot.

There’s no lap to sit in. No random back hugs. No unnecessary piggyback rides.

She’s gone. And the whole team is touch-deprived like it’s withdrawal. KK sits on the floor during water break and just stares at her empty spot on the bench.

“She always sits there,” she says to no one.

“She eats my snacks there,” Ashlynn adds.

“She eats my snacks too,” Bri chimes in.

“She eats everybody’s snacks,” Paige says. “Why is that making me sad?”

Nika’s staring at the group chat like she can summon her through sheer willpower.

🧿: u left me here w these sad losers

🧿: is this punishment?

🧿: i’ll be good. come home.

You react to the message. A heart. That’s it. No paragraph. No voice memo. Just vibes.

Aaliyah leans her head on Paige’s shoulder. “I don’t wanna scrimmage without her.”

“Shut up and guard me,” Paige says.

But she doesn’t mean it. No one means anything today.

They run plays half-heartedly. They don’t even bicker over who gets aux. Ashlynn’s hoodie still smells like reader’s perfume and she won’t take it off even though she’s sweating.

“It’s like a hug,” she says softly. “Shut up, let me have this.”

By hour two, Caroline’s literally lying on the court mid-drill, muttering, “I miss her. I miss her so bad.”

“She was just here yesterday,” Ice groans.

“That’s not enough.”

Then comes the breakdown. Group chat chaos.

🇭🇷: she didn’t kiss my forehead yesterday i just realized

🧊: y’all think she loves us still or she moved on

HEY ARNOLDS: i’m calling her

Coraline🗝️: DO NOT CALL HER SHE SAID SHE’S IN CLASS

🪣: does she remember us 😞

🇭🇷: i need her to bite me or something. like fr. knock my chakras back into place

HEY ARNOLDS: don’t talk to me unless you smell like her hoodie rn

They practice like ghosts. Geno yells. Nobody moves fast. Nobody dives for rebounds. The ball slips out of hands like reader’s not there to clap and say, “You got it, baby. Run that back.”

KK lays on the court and mutters, “I can’t stretch without her sitting on me. I literally can’t. This is physical pain.”

It is. And then? Finally?

She sends a pic. In class. Pretty as hell. Whiteboard in the background, notes half-written, lip gloss popping. Peace sign.

“Y’all good?”

“Y’all miss me or sum?”

Paige throws her phone across the gym. “SHE KNOWS.”

She knows how bad they’ve got it. She knows they’re a mess. And she loves it.

She walks in like nothing. Backpack slung over one shoulder. Hoodie half-zipped. Hair messy from the wind and a protein bar in her mouth.

It’s late—almost 9PM—but the whole team’s crammed into Nika, Jana, and Paige’s dorm like they don’t all have their own beds. Blankets on the floor, snacks everywhere, some random rom-com playing low on the TV.

The door opens. She steps in.

And for two whole seconds, no one moves. Just…staring.

She looks up, chewing slow.

“Hey,” she says, voice casual.

The room erupts.

“OH MY GOD—”

“WHERE WERE YOU—”

“DID YOU EAT TODAY—”

“COME HERE—”

“NO GIVE ME A HUG FIRST—”

KK tackles her first, arms around her waist, face in her hoodie. “Don’t ever do that again. You understand me? Don’t ever go that long without touch. I was hallucinating.”

Ashlynn grabs her hand like it’s her emotional support rope. Aaliyah’s rubbing her arm like she’s real and not a ghost.

Paige literally just sits on the arm of the couch and stares.

Her? She just walks further in, like none of it’s crazy. Pulls off her bag. Kicks off her slides. Pops open a Tupperware of leftover pasta and starts eating, one forkful at a time.

“Mmm. Y’all watching 27 Dresses?”

Like half the team isn’t circling her like vultures in love. Nika throws a blanket over her lap and immediately curls up under it, head on her thigh. Jana leans into her other side like it’s a race to absorb the most skin-to-skin.

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t pull away. Just keeps eating. Pauses only to press a kiss to Nika’s hair like it’s routine.

“You miss me or something?” she asks, licking pasta off her fork.

“You think you’re funny,” Paige mutters, but she’s sitting a little closer now, pink in the cheeks, like she’d rather die than admit how feral she was today.

She smirks. “Y’all so dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic,” KK says. “We were starving. Emotionally. Physically. Tactically.”

“She’s literally our team love language,” Bri mutters, stealing a bite of pasta from her bowl like it’ll bring peace.

The night goes on and not a single part of her body is untouched. There’s a hand on her ankle. Someone’s fingers tracing her knuckles. Her shoulder’s being used as a pillow. Her lap is fully occupied.

And still—she just eats. Calm. Totally unbothered.

Until finally, she speaks, soft and smug.

“Y’all weird when I’m not around.”

KK nods, eyes closed, head on her chest.

“And we’re not apologizing.”

541 notes · View notes

5sospenguinqueen · 10 months ago

Text

Djungelskog | Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year.

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics?

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

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yn_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :(

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism

→ yn_ln yes

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

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Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it.

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?”

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?”

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward.

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.”

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?”

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher.

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco.

“There?”

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause.

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.”

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear.

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.”

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared.

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.”

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter.

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?”

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.”

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot?

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room?

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine!

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn?

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

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Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

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dilf-hunter-fantasies · 5 months ago

Note

I was wondering if you'd write anything about Joel and free use?

Love your account babe💗

thank you so much babe, i loved this idea! i hope you enjoy my take on it. i was fantasizing about...

renting a room from joel miller and striking a deal to lower your rent.

3.5k words 🍒warnings: explicit smut, no outbreak au, age gap (reader in college), female reader, brief mention of f masturbation, free use!!, size kink, pussy pronouns, unprotected piv, use of: sweetheart, darlin'

click here for more of my writing

So you end up short on options for housing after breaking up with your ex. You know it seems weird to be a young woman willing to rent a room from an older man who is …well in all versions you spin it…a total stranger. But, your aunt swears he’s a good guy.

She used to live in his neighborhood, knew his daughter, figured he has the extra room and put you in touch. And all things considered, she hasn’t led you astray. I mean, he hasn’t murdered you.

Okay, it’s not that bad. He doesn’t give off murder vibes either. More like…grumpy single man vibes. But that works out for your arrangement. You’re both pretty quiet and you keep to yourselves. And he’s not too bad to look at. You catch yourself straddling a line between not being the creep yourself and just wanting to get to know him a little bit.

The real problem has nothing to do with him and everything to do with you. Well with your bank account. You’ve been bleeding your measly savings trying to keep up with life and the job you have isn’t really enough to live off of. It was a dream to find a hybrid schedule and work for a non-profit with a mission that matters to you. But it doesn’t pay for shit.

It’s not like Joel’s overcharging you or anything either. Nothing is affordable.

And now you’re on your last legs. If you can’t keep this together you’ll have to pack it up and crawl home to your family? Not an option. It’s not like you haven’t been applying for other jobs either. But you either don’t hear back or the schedule won’t work with your classes.

So here you are. Pacing back and forth in your sparsely decorated room. Between your bed and your desk, wearing a groove into the carpet, chewing on your fingers and obsessively checking your phone to see if your sage friends have any better advice.

They don’t.

Well, they suggested selling feet pics online, but even if that could be lucrative—it doesn’t get you the money to spend by tomorrow. You toss yourself onto your bed, exasperated. Last resort. You’re gonna have to be honest.

It takes a long time to gather the mental courage. You stare at your ceiling for so long your eyes blur. You can hear Joel in the kitchen and with a deep breath you force yourself up, dragging your feet down the hallway until you see him.

The kitchen is warm, whatever he’d made for dinner earlier smells good. So good it makes your stomach growl, announcing your presence in the doorway. The sound makes you grimace—for a split second you’re tempted to hide. To run back to your room and pretend like there won’t be any consequences if you just don’t bring it up. Ever.

Too late. He shuts the dishwasher with a loud click and turns, his sharp brown eyes meeting yours. You immediately regret this idea. Your feel like you’re sinking into the floor. You don’t know how long you’ve been staring at him now.

“Hey,” he says gruffly, his voice low and even. He turns back away from you, putting leftovers in the fridge, like it’s no big deal you’ve been standing there silently like a weirdo. “You need something?”

Your throat is suddenly so dry, you can barely unstick your tongue to speak. “Yeah…uh, can I talk to you for a second?”

Joel pauses mid-motion, before shoving the last container onto the shelf and letting the fridge door shut, trapping you in the silence together. He crosses his arms over his chest and looks toward you. The way his shirt stretches across his shoulders makes you nervous for reasons you don’t want to analyze right now.

“Sure.”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, your hands twisting in front of you like they’re trying to strangle each other. His eyes flick down to the motion, and you force yourself to stop.

“So, uh…I was wondering—” You swallow hard. You can do it. “I need to talk to you about my rent.”

His eyebrows lift, and your chest tightens.

“Let’s hear it then.”

“It’s just that I’m in kind of a tight spot right now. Work’s been—well, it’s been fine but money’s tight, and I just—” You’re rambling. Words all running together. “I’m not saying you’re charging too much or anything like that, but—”

“Slow down,” Joel holds up a hand, and the rest of your words fall flat. His voice is calm, but firm. “You sayin’ you can’t afford it?”

“I can!” you blurt out. “I mean, I can’t by tomorrow, but I can soon. I just thought, maybe we could work something out. Like…if you could give me some more time or if I could do something to work off some of what I owe.” Joel tilts his head slightly, studying you in a way that makes your skin prickle. You can’t tell if he’s annoyed or just thinking, and the silence stretches too long for comfort.

Finally, he exhales through his nose, dropping his arms and leaning his palms on the counter behind him. His voice is lower when he speaks again, quieter, like he’s weighing every word.

“You wanna do something for me?”

Your heart skips, and you blink up at him. Maybe that was a dumb suggestion. You don’t even know what you have to offer. The house is always clean, the yard maintained, he seems to enjoy cooking.

“Uh, yeah?” your face contorts a little as you try and come up with a suggestion. “If you’d consider giving me a discount.”

His lips twitch, just the barest hint of a smirk, and something about it makes the air in the room shift.

“Well,” he drawls, “If I’m cuttin’ you a deal,---”

“You’ll consider it?” You look at him with a smile already starting to break on your face. You can breathe.

“Maybe you can cut me one, too.” He finishes his sentence. Your mouth hangs open, but nothing comes out. There’s something behind his words you don’t fully understand, but it’s stuck in the air between you.

“What kind of deal?” you manage to get out, your voice hesitant.

Joel pushes off the counter, closing the space between you in a way that’s casual, but calculated. He’s close enough you can make out the lines at the corners of his eyes, the salt-and-pepper in his beard. His gaze holds yours, steady and charged with something new.

“You say yes,” he starts to explain, his voice dropping into a gravelly timbre that makes your pulse quicken. “And I’ll knock your rent down as much as you need. Simple.”

The room suddenly feels small, too warm, like his gravity is holding you in place.

“Say yes to what, Mr. Miller?” Your voice is soft, just a whisper rolling off your tongue. You have an idea what he’s proposing. The way his eyes flicker with something dark and knowing when you refer to him as Mr. Miller. The crackle in the air between you.

“I think you know what I mean.”

You shake your head, ever so subtly, wrinkling a brow. In what feels like slow motion, Joel tips your chin up, between his thumb and curled forefinger. Your face is on fire. Somehow exposed even though nothing else has changed.

“Whenever I need you. Wherever I want you.”

For a second you think he might kiss you. It feels like everything in your body is calling to him. His mouth is so close to yours. The words are still replaying in your mind.

But he pulls his hand back. “Think about it,” he murmurs and brushes past you, close enough that you can feel the heat of his body. He glances back at you once on his way out of the room. “Offer’s on the table, sweetheart,” he says over his shoulder. “Up to you.”

You’re left standing, still as a stone, heat prickling up your spine as his words replay in your head.

What the fuck just happened?

“Hey!” you call out, starting down the hall after Joel. “Wait.”

He turns, hovering in the doorway to his room.

“Uh, are you talking about sex?”

“Yep.”

Your breath hitches. The corner of his mouth quirks, smug. You look at him with fresh eyes. He’s an attractive guy. Not exactly pleasant, but not a jerk. You can’t imagine he’d have a hard time picking up a date.

“I’m not a whore, you know.” “I know, darlin’.” His face softens a little.

The next couple of days are filled with tension so thick it’s impossible to ignore. Whenever you’re in the same room you can feel his eyes lingering on you. He brushes past you in the kitchen in the morning, his hand grazing your hip when he reaches for his coffee mug.

You catch him watching you from across the room, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. His eyes roam all over your body, dark and deliberate, and you can feel the promise in his gaze.

It’s driving you fucking insane. You thought he’d have made a move by now. Hell, you thought he’d have made a move the second you agreed to his deal. But he’d only made sure you each had a few ground rules and that was it. End of conversation.

“Have a good night now, darlin’. Hope you sleep better without having to worry about your rent.”

Right. You didn’t have to worry about rent. You just had to spiral in your own room wondering when it would happen. How he’s going to take you.

It’s got you so worked up thinking about him you keep spacing out during your work meetings. Swiveling restlessly on your office chair in your bedroom, trying to remember to look focused and add your two cents in for participation.

But all you can think about is Joel. You’re on high alert whenever you hear his truck roll into the driveway, the door slamming shut with a thud. His heavy steps coming down the hall. You wonder when he’ll want you. You know he meant it.

You hope he meant it.

That night, his footsteps pause outside your door, his presence thick in the air, setting your pulse racing. It makes you squirm, adjusting the skimpy pajamas you’ve taken to wearing as your heart beats faster. You can’t tell if he’s debating coming in or if he’s just fucking with you, but it’s got you breathless.

The next morning, you’re standing in the bathroom doorway, brushing your teeth when Joel suddenly appears, shirtless and still damp from his shower. He gives you a lazy once-over, stepping close enough that you have to press yourself against the door frame to let him pass.

His voice is low and teasing as he murmurs, “You’re in the way, sweetheart,” leaving your cheeks flaming.

The next day, you’re still tense.

Stretching in your desk chair as your coworkers read through their budget updates and data tracking for the grants you’re funded through. It’s hard to stay focused, Joel has taken over all of your thoughts.

Jaz finishes her update and another department leads the rest of the meeting. You’re shuffling your notes around mindlessly, barely hearing a word. Every thought in your head is Joel, Joel, Joel.

Last night, you’d nearly combusted when he finally walked away from your door. You’d been seconds from begging him to come in, to just take you already. By the time he left, your thighs were slick, and the ache was unbearable. You had to handle it yourself, coming hard and fast on your fingers, imagining it was his thick, calloused hands instead.

But now, twelve hours later, the tension is already back. Worse than before. Every noise in the house puts you on edge. His truck rumbling into the driveway. The front door shutting.

The meeting drags on, voices fading into a blur—until a soft knock jolts you back to reality.

Before you can answer, the door swings open, and Joel steps inside like he owns the place—which, technically, he does. He leans against the frame, arms crossed, looking completely unbothered by the fact that you’re clearly in the middle of something.

Your heart races. Your eyes flick to your camera to make sure it’s off. Muted. Thank God.

Joel doesn’t say anything, just watches you with a smirk that makes your stomach flip. His dark eyes roam over you, slow and deliberate, and it’s like every molecule of air has been sucked out of the room.

He takes his time crossing the space between you, letting the silence stretch. You can feel the heat radiating off him as he crowds you, hands bracing the arms of your chair, caging you in.

“You gonna tell me to stop?” he drawls, his voice low and gravelly.

Your throat is so tight you can’t even speak. You shake your head.

Joel’s smirk deepens. “That’s what I thought.”

His big hands tug you to the edge of your chair, spreading your knees wide. He runs his palms along your thighs, leaving a trail of heat that burns your skin through your soft leggings.

Your heart jumps to your throat, chest tight.

The thought of your coworkers just a click away only heightens the thrill.

Joel doesn’t hold back. Pulling you to stand. Turning you to face your desk and pressing until you lean your elbows on the smooth surface, framing your keyboard.

You arch your spine eagerly, holding your breath, bracing for his next move. He smooths a palm over the curve of your ass, humming softly to himself, before slipping his hand between your legs.

You tilt your head, a shaky breath escaping as his fingers press against you, making your thighs tremble. You know he can feel how wet you already are through the thin material. All day you’re wet for him, just waiting and waiting.

His touch is firm and you grind into it without thinking, making him laugh under his breath. “Shit,” he murmurs. “She needs it worse than I do, huh?” You don’t answer. Just dropping your head between your shoulder blades as he rubs circles against your clothed pussy.

He retracts his hand, swiftly pulling your leggings down, exposing your puffy, wet folds to the cooler air.

You stay folded over, forehead resting on your desk, ass arched in presentation. You don’t know what to expect next, your pulse thunders in your ear as you wait.

His hands frame your cunt, spreading you wider so he can look closer. You’d be self-conscious being studied so closely if you were any less desperate for him to touch you. But all you can do you is silently beg him to do something.

“Christ,” he murmurs reverently, dropping to his knees behind you. “Just a taste first.” It sounds like he’s talking to himself. You don’t care.

You gasp sharply the second his tongue dips between your swollen lips. It’s so much better than your fingers and your frustrated, rushed orgasms last night. It’s so much better.

He uses his whole face, diving deeper, as he groans into your pussy. Your meeting is still in progress, but the voices coming through your speakers could be speaking a foreign language. They mean nothing to you right now.

The only thing that matters is between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed at how close you already are. You don’t know if you should say anything. If he cares if he makes you cum. Before you can think any harder, he’s back on his feet and you’re whimpering at the loss.

“I know.”

The soft clink of his belt followed by the sound of him unzipping his jeans has your knees weak. The thrill that shoots through you is like lightning, ripping through your system and activating every nerve in your body.

Be good," he growls, dragging his cock through your slick.

“Oh, fuck,” you can’t help the awe and the relief. The heat, the thickness, the pressure. It’s everything you need, but not enough at the same time. He continues for a moment, coating his length in your arousal as you try to swallow down your needy moans.

He slots his blunt tip at your entrance, adding enough pressure to make you suck in air. Without even seeing it, you know it’s going to be a stretch. Like he can read your mind, or at least your body, he runs his hand soothingly over your spine.

It shouldn’t melt your nerves so fast, but the gentle touch eases your mind. For reasons you can’t explain—feelings really, you feel safe.

“We’ll start slow this time, sweetheart. Don’t worry.”

And then he’s nudging into you, working you open around his wide cockhead. It’s mildly uncomfortable, but you welcome the dull ache. Your throbbing pussy has been begging for it. He pulls back, repeating the slow movement, splitting you open for him a little further each time.

It makes you needy, you try to push back against him, but he only swats at your ass. “I told ya to be good.”

Your cheeks feel hot at the scolding.

“Sorry, Mr. Miller.” It comes out more confident than you expected, your voice smooth and low.

You can feel the way his dick twitches at your response before he continues, painstakingly slowly, filling you up. You’re still frustrated, but each time he thrusts into you, your knees almost buckle and you know he hasn’t made it all the way in yet. You’re still hungry for that feeling, for his hips to meet your ass, flush.

You can’t hold back your moans as he drags along your nerves. He already has your eyes rolling back and he’s not even fucking you yet.

Until he stops, held still halfway inside of you. You blink your eyes open, trying not to whine.

He says your name like he’s been calling it and you’ve been ignoring him. “Hmm?” you respond.

“Think they’re waiting for your answer.”

“Oh, shit.”

Joel still doesn’t move. You unmute your mic, trying to steady your voice. “I’m really sorry, uh, can you repeat the question?”

“Just confirming your mid-cycle reports are already submitted.”

“Yes.”

“Great.”

You mute the mic again and Joel slams the rest of the way home, making you cry out in surprise.

He doesn’t hold back now, his rough hand gripping your hip as he takes you, low grunts echoing in your room as he snaps his hips forward. Your ass ripples, bouncing off of him with every thrust and the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin fill your ears.

He hits so fucking deep at this angle, you can barely think. His balls slap against you and for some reason that makes you even more crazy for him. You meet his every thrust with the same energy, fucking hard. So hard your desk rattles, but neither of you can be bothered by it’s structural integrity.

He keeps you on edge, pounding into you as the pressure builds. When you shift slightly, his cock drags over the devastating spot that makes you nearly wail.

“Yeah?” he asks as if you could respond right now. “Right there?”

“Mmm,” is all you can manage.

“Good. Let me have it. Rub that pretty clit of yours for me, I wanna feel her trying to milk me dry.”

Fuck. His filthy words nearly send you over the edge immediately, but when you slip your own hand between your legs, it’s euphoric. Furiously working at your slick, swollen bundle of nerves you drive yourself to the brink.

“Gonna–ah!--gonna cum,” You get the breathy, gasping words out right as your pussy starts to clench around him. He groans lowly, making you see stars as your climax tears through you.

The waves are still rolling through your muscles, your core still tensing, when he pulls out. The slick sounds as he pumps his cock rapidly are obscene and you don’t want them to stop. But then you feel his hot cum painting your ass, and you’re moaning in unison.

Then he’s pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before slinking out of your room. You grimace. Tuning back in to the speaker still rambling on about god knows what on your computer. Before you can move, Joel is back with a small towel to clean you up.

You’re stuck in a daze. A blissed-out state, as you straighten up and pull your leggings back up. Joel’s about to slip back out the door as if nothing happened. Before he steps out of the room though, he gives you a knowing smirk, “You did good for me, darlin’.”

You’re left staring at the closed door, breathless and trembling, the heat of his touch still lingering on your skin. Rent isn’t the problem anymore. Joel Miller is.

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