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tonycries · 2 months ago

Text

Hey, Venom Boy! - C.K.

Synopsis. Venom’s had enough of his host’s racing heartbeat and tíghtening pants around you. So he does what any good symbiote would do - help Choso lose his vírginíty, of course!

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!reader, Venom!Choso, best-friends-to-Iovers, PlNING, héats, he has tattoos and piercings, Venom in bold, first times (for Choso), PÚSSYDRÚNK CHOSO, oraI (fem. rec), spítting, ínappropríate use of the symbiote, LONG tongues, ríding, dúmbifícation, making it fit, size kínk, tummy buIges, creampíes, cúmplay, MARATHONS, matíng presses, overstím, squírting, cúmming dry, proposals, biting marks, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. Inspired by this ask and this post by the lovely @/screampied.

“You like her.”

“Shut up.”

“You want to fu-”

“Shut up.”

“Heh- loser.”

And Choso was genuinely contemplating smashing his head against the nearest wall, if only it would yank out that damn parasite- “Oi, I can hear you.” -he had the misfortune of picking up.

Weeks - though, it felt like years - weeks since he’d wandered into his usual hiding spot at the abandoned Lady of Saint’s Church for a moment of peace and quiet; except, he wasn’t alone that day. Too busy poring over yet another sketch of your dazzling smile to notice-

“Your pulse rate spiked- you’re thinking of her, boy. You want her.”

But it’d been weeks since he’d had peace and quiet after this…alien symbiote had forcibly attached itself to his body that day.

And the worst part was that he wasn’t even wrong.

“S-so what?” Choso hisses out. “She deserves better than me anyway.” Wincing at the sheer predatory amusement in Venom’s voice as he purrs—

“I have a plan…”

Your best friend was acting strange.

Given, it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for his fawn eyes to linger on you just a little more than what’s considered appropriate for a “friend”, or for him to burn with the prettiest blush whenever you caught him.

But these days it was almost like he was avoiding you on purpose.

Taking the longer routes after lectures, being struck pale as a ghost mid-conversation, always muttering away underneath his breath.

Hell, one day you even had half the mind to jokingly ask him whether he was talking to someone you couldn’t see - to which Choso had sputtered and all but sprinted away from you.

And here he was right now - towering right at your apartment doorway in just a snug undershirt and the sexiest grey sweatpants.

“Ch-Choso?” Your jaw drops slightly at his disheveled, heaving state.

Milky skin simmered with a sheen of sweat that made his dark tank top glue to his broad chest, chestnut strands of his bangs falling out of his bun to hide his eyes from you, almost…feverish.

Frantic gaze bouncing off the beefy arm he’d kept leaned over your doorframe for support, “What happened- are you sick? Are you drunk?” A quick glance at the clock showed that it was well past 12AM, “Are you okay, Cho-”

And then he flinches.

Fuck- he flinches as if the sound of that very nickname falling from your cute lips made his entire body shudder with a thousand bolts of lightning.

Baritone voice hot and murky once he utters, “Baby…”

Oh.

You could feel the goosebumps starting to slither down your spine already, and you tug nervously at the paper-thin pyjama shirt you had on. Too-aware of the fact that it was the only thing you were wearing other than your thin panties- damn.

Noticing the way that every minute movement of yours seemed to make Choso’s pants grow heavier; you dare to take a step closer, and it only makes him grip onto the mahogany doorway until it splinters.

Teeth grit. Nostrils flaring. Barely holding himself together.

Gasping, “Cho?”

“I need you.”

“Wha-” And it’s the last thing escaping your mouth before Choso surges forward like he’s being jerked, movements twitchy - desperate - he falls a few steps forward until he’s in your heated proximity.

Your saccharine scent so sweet that he’d be on his damn knees if you hadn’t clawed a hand on one of his flexing biceps- a gruff whimper departing from Choso’s plush, pink lips. “K-kiss me.”

Oh, fuck.

You watch with a carnal sort of desire at the way that he scorches with a breezing blush all the way from the tips of his ears, down to his collarbones. Fisting your dominant hand in the flimsy cotton of your best friend’s undershirt, just the tiniest, weakest tug makes him gulp.

Now that he started, he couldn’t stop.

“Kiss me- kiss me, p-please.” He’s finally darting his hazy peripheries up from the floor to look at you, you, and only you. Dragging in a deeeep breath of your air, his half-lidded pupils were begging- “Kiss me, baby.”

You’re humming, the curved edges of your fingertips curling ‘round Choso’s nape and pulling him in.

He’s melting.

He’s melting and melting into the kiss - as if he’d been dreaming of this for just as long as you have. Even longer.

Strong, sturdy hands wrapping around your waist to tug you against his hardened front, you gasp at the sweltering hot temperature he was radiating. Already feeling beads of perspiration starting to form across your forehead-

He’s sucking in a sharp breath, “Need to- need to tell you something.”

Words huffin’ out through glides of his berry-pink lips across yours, each one wrenching out like it pained him to part from your candied mouth with each sloppy mwah! Blindly, he slams the door shut with the heeled back of his foot. “There’s- a- a thing-”

You’re grinning once his voice breaks - breaks, as soon as you’re sipping on the cold spherical piercing homed at the edge of his tongue like your favorite gummy candy. “A…thing?”

Through a slightly-cracked eyelid, your gaze sinks down between Choso’s thick, meaty thighs. Instantly feeling a wave of sap flood your mouth at the massive cylindrical bulge that tightened his sweatpants uncomfortably.

He was just too cute.

“A ‘thing’, hm?” You’re breaking off to smirk, twisting a silky lock of his hair around your index in a way that makes the looming man in front of you shiver. Chasing and chasing your lips- he was so weak for you.

Giving in, you’re just about getting ready to kiss your best friend silly once more - but what meets your ravenous mouth isn’t his soft, plump lips anymore.

No, it doesn’t even feel human.

What instead greets you is something frigid and slimy. Something that crushes you to him with a strength tenfold of what Choso had been using - almost animalistic - until you’re lurching back and gaping at the fact that your feet were now dangling almost two whole feet off of the ground.

Snapping your head to his face and-

What…the…f-

“Don’t scream!” In a startling split-second, that black mass of goop masking Choso’s face slithers away in tiny tendrils to reveal, well, Choso.

And honestly, you’re not sure if that wants to make you scream even more or just shuts you up completely. But whilst you ogle whatever it is in front of you, Choso keeps plowing on.

“This- ah, this is what I meant by a…thing.” He’s stammering out nervously, dark brows crinkling with nervousness as he watches on for your reaction. “Basically- a few weeks ago- my body got infected by this alien thing- a ‘symbiote’, it said, and I-”

“Improved.”

You’re feeling that temptation to exhaust your lungs with yells once more as Choso’s swallowed up within that dark matter.

Muscular and big.

Except this time it was formulating a mouth - all wide and decorated in tiny, jagged canines - and slanted white eyes with not a pupil in sight. A dexterous tongue gliiiides down the crevice of its sharp mouth, glittered with strands of slobber. “We are Venom, pretty girl. And you smell…”

Venom’s voice was deep. Coarse. A rumbling bass that made the very bottom of your stomach quiver- you’re distracted only by the growling sniff he lets out. Monstrous ivory eyes locked right between your heated core-

“-delicious.”

Oh…he was reaching well near eight feet and twitching from the inside out once Choso fights to regain control.

“A-as you can see-” Smiling sheepishly down at you - you blink, and your best friend was suddenly back. Eyes hooded, mouth snarling, looking ruined. What the fuck. “-he really seems to like your scent and it’s driving me-”

“Stop talking, boy, and mate the girl.”

“Shut up.”

You blink almost owlishly in disbelief, and in something…else, as you feel your thighs clench together. A slight motion that Venom surely doesn’t miss, if the way that Choso’s lungs heave with more gulps of your sweet, sweet leaking pheromones was anything to go by.

And then, you’re finally piping up– “Let…let me see that tongue of Venom’s again?”

“A-are you sure? W-we’re best friends, and I’ve never…”

You’d be rolling your eyes at the repeated question if it wasn’t for the fact that Choso Kamo just looked so pretty when he was knelt obediently at the very foot of your bed.

A thin sliver of sweat sliding down his temple, breaths coming out in heated gusts, slender hands balling into a fist and shivering once you smear your legs open just a fraction more. Twitching, white-knuckled like he was forcing himself to not just ruin you right then and there.

“Mhm.” You’re nodding, and the very action is enough for him to snap his eyes down where your cotton panties were starting to dampen and swallow. “Please, handsome- don’t be coy.”

It was almost too good to be true.

But, fuck, Choso wasn’t waiting around ‘till he wakes up from this dream.

With so much pent-up eagerness that he felt his lips twist into a sleazy grin- Choso’s crawling himself the few inches it was to stuff himself nose-deep between your pretty legs.

“O-oh.”

First it was the tiniest tug on your restless hips, then it was a sniff- and then it was a bite of his honed, glossy pearly whites over the lacy lil’ bow homed on the hem of your underwear. A throaty groan snarling through his teeth– “Oh, baby…”

That did it-

Quick as a flash, he’s snagging his teeth on the flimsy fabric of your panties and all but tearing it off of you. Rip-rip-ripping to simply push its tatters to the side, Choso doesn’t even fully take it off before he was simply drooooling.

Gulping and gulping the scent of your leaking hole.

“Sweet.” He gasps out, words taking on a dark edge. And you swear the chocolate color of his irises looked as if they were almost glowing, “So sweet.”

“Hurry, the symbiote hungers.”

Sharp jaw ticking as he ignores Venom’s request, the fattened pad of his thumb spanks down on your swollen pussylips and spreads you all wide open. Cock twitching at the deafening wet squelch! that chimes once he gathers copious wads of saliva and spits.

All over your lustrous cunt, slicking out a mess so great that it was already starting to form a puddle underneath your silken sheets.

“And mine.”

“Tch.”

And Choso wasn’t just greedy - he was outright gluttonous.

“You…you taste this sweet, baby?”

“Oh- ohhhh fuck–!” You’re shrilling out a syrupy moan once his chilly tongue piercing flicks at the tippy-top hood of your clit like a lollipop. Taking extra care to press down hard so that it has you thrashing-

“There? S’that good?” He’s roaming his mouth over your puffed-up lips eagerly, yearning. Not knowing what he was doing, just addicted. “You’re so wet, baby- s’this for me- r-really, really f’me?”

He just couldn’t believe it- and the only answer he’s getting is a few soft gasps of oh! and yes! Spit n’ whines overflowing your tongue with every slap of his textured tastebuds. You couldn’t help but nod your head down and admire just how drunken Choso was as he’s suckin’ away on your perky clit.

The hollows of his cheeks sucked-in and flushed red, spit-glossed mouth wrapped snugly ‘round your sensitive nub.

You’re whimpering, head thrown back at the grunts he muffles out between your legs.

“M-more, Cho–” You mewl out in a tone that makes his tensed hips rut forward like an animal, immediately grinding against the firm base of your bedframe. Fuck. Snaking a hand down to intertwine with his mussed-up bangs, and tugging them free of his bun- “Wan’ more.”

“More.”

“Hear that? I wanna taste.”

His tongue’s so thirsty - throat so parched - that it lets out the most sinful sluuuuurp at the very first slobbery drag from the dewy base of your quivering pussy, openin’ up your plump folds so widely agape to lather down on the very top of your clit.

Nodding and nodding and nodding- grinding up to tease the mushy tip of his tongue past your slippery folds just the tiniest bit. “More- please.”

And it’s not like Choso didn’t hear you - fuck, it’s that you’d broken him.

Because it happens in a singular nanosecond, it happens so fast you’re seeing cartoonish stars in your vision when he’s hauling you halfway across the bed like some glorified ragdoll.

Thighs thrown over his shoulder, trembly hands guided through his sweaty scalp, mouth wolfish-

“Keh. No wonder you’re a virgin, boy.”

“Sh-shut up.” He’s answering out loud, sending the most electric buzzes down your spine as he nips on the fleshy slope of your pussylips. His own ears pop! as the pointed curve of his chin hits your treacly cunt with a smack of skin-on-skin, so deep. Nose-deep till those lined tattoos on his face.

Ready to suffocate if he has to.

“Oi- give me a taste, and I’ll give her…more.”

Upper lip glueing to your pussy, Choso’s making you scream every time the sharp ends of his fangs snag on your clit. “Shut up shut up shut up-‘

“Ch-Cho?” Fuck, it takes you every ounce of strength in your body to lift your head up from your creaky bedsprings. Glassily eyeing the way that his grip on your hips turns bruising with semi-circular claw-marks of his, “Everything hah! alright?”

And shit- he breaks off slightly from your dripping wet pussy once- twice. Thrice, each n’ every time letting off a pained grunt that forces him back to stuff himself at his favorite spot between your legs.

He couldn’t even break off to speak. To breathe.

Still murmuring his response at the outer edges of your saturated core, with so many numerous strings of slick dangling from his rovering, swollen lips. Gingerly, “It’s V-Venom, he…wants a taste too.”

“Oh.”

And shit- Choso didn’t need Venom’s superhuman abilities to notice the instant that you’re growing so much wetter. A silky torrent of sap gushing out of you to lacquer your inner thighs like a fountain, already making him lurch- and suck and suck up every pearly droplet.

“I…” You’re starting off, lip chewed underneath your teeth in a way that almost makes him jealous. The memory of his extravagant tongue still fresh in your mind, “-wouldn’t mind.”

“Oh? Well…”

“-about time.”

As Choso lets Venom take over, you can’t help but gasp.

Oh, you were never getting used to this.

He was about two feet taller, hulking, monstrous. And the only thing more lecherous than that toothy grin he wore was his tongue - sliiiiding out all its endless inches and swaying teasingly to n’ fro in midair. Big.

So, so big.

“Eyes…” He’s looming over until scalding hot breath humidifies your features, tonality so gruff that it rumbles your very bones. Oh, he already knows of his effect on you - can flick his tastebuds out and taste it in the saccharine air. “Lungs…pancreas…”

The curly, reddened end of it stingingly slapping down on your thigh, Venom’s tongue is oh-so-long enough that he can lace it all over your shivering leg and wrench them further and further open–

“Pussy.”

And then it feels like you’re being split apart- just a few solid, thorough inches of Venom’s slimy tongue burrowing past your puffy folds, keeping your jolting legs pinned firmly by a few of his Stygian spirals.

One taste. One taste is all it takes.

You’re being rendered utterly stupid by the swashing flicks of his pointed muscle stirrin’ up your insides, wriggling in circular slurps around and around and around your gummy walls. Scarfing you down until his tongue reaches the very gooey bottom of your cunt and kisses your cervix.

So hard that you’re pushed up the mattress and he’s forced to wrap a few tendrils that reel you back down again.

“Heh, finish line.”

“What- oh…oh my god-” Tears drip down in constant rivers from your heavy lids, wailing whimpers breaking off from your larynx at every smack-smack-smack he left on that spongy end. Further pushing aside your panties, retracting aaaaaalll the way back to thruuuust- “Y-your tongue is sooo big.”

“So many snacks. How good.” He’s tittering out with a thundering pant, spiked ends of his canines littering your skin with gnawing bites. “How delicious. How…”

He’s sloshing his tongue almost aggressively inside, whacking your g-spot in-between his barreling journey to fuck you with his tongue just as much as he wanted to with his cock.

Lolling sloppily, thrusting, dragging the ridges of his tastebuds across your g-spot.

And it takes you a few more vulgar strokes, it takes you the sound of that familiarly melodic voice for you to flap your tear-heavy lashes open and finally look once more between your legs. “-mine.”

It’s almost as if both Choso and Venom couldn’t decide on who wanted to make out with your soft, candied pussy more.

Because it was your best friend’s pretty upper half of his face peeking out from between your splattered legs, but Venom’s mouth that was pumpin’ addictively past your rubbery entrance. Over and over.

“N-ngh pleeease!” Comes out your repeated record of whines, every mushy gyration so good that you can’t help but rock into every second of his frenzied cadence. Creeping down one of your hands to smear your pussylips wider with a soppy slurp so that he could go even deeper, “I-it’s so good- don’t stop don’t stop.”

And the look in Choso’s dark eyes is the most raw glint of disbelief that you’ve ever seen.

Unsteady thighs clenching as he hits his v-line against the wooden board of your bed and grinds, unwilling to angrily fist his raging cock the way he ached n’ leaked to, unwilling to take his hands off of you for a mere second.

“N-no no, move that hand, baby. Lemme see her- Please.” You’ve never seen your cute best friend dare to be so rude- urgently swatting away those few fingers of yours to replace with his own knobbly, greedy ones.

Pressin’ on your weeping, swollen clit with the flat end of his digit - you’re coating his chipped black nail polish with so many layers of goopy slick that it trickles down to his wrist.

And oh, you’d almost forgotten just got many frigid metal rings that Choso wore on his hot fingers. Sappily nuzzling the inside of your left thigh the very moment he’s slipping his middle past your widely messy hole and curling–

“How could I? How c-could I stop?” He’s muttering away - octaves higher than you’re used to, hitting and hitting your bruised and battered g-spot at the very same tempo that Venom was, too.

Double whack after whack that made your spine arch curvaceously off of the dampened mattress, icy edges of his rings scraping your walls. Choso just salivates at the heavenly sight of you below him, “How could you even- think- I’m-”

“-addicted.”

And Venom chooses just this precise moment to make your stupidly muddled mind remember his presence until you can’t think at all.

Prolonging his plumply constricted tongue - using his symbiotic powers and extending it even more feet stuffed inside your tightly cozy walls, slashing the very tip to become split-ended.

“Pretty. Pretty pussy.” He’s groaning out carnally, and your throat rips with a scream once he’s starting up a thrusting pace that flicks at your weeping cunt with those two slithering ends of his monstrous tongue. “Don’t know who’s prettier- you or…”

You’re shivering then - shivering at the windy gust of air inhaled once Venom tugs you even closer by his black coils and sniffs. Breath hot, his French kiss on your pussy hotter. “-her.”

“Fuck- fuck, you’re making such a mess, Choso.”

“Mhmmmm—”

Shifting between both his tongue and Venom’s - every transformation had you dizzy. Alternating between Venom’s hard, almost violent thrusts with his split-end tongue to Choso’s sensual tickling of his piercing into your most favorite spots.

Glittery slick and spittle dripping down like a glazing polish, Choso’s swallowing down every sweet gumdrop like he’s a man starved.

Like a damn dog in heat, every pant of the honeyed pheromones between your legs was driving him fucking mad. Making his hips thrust-

“Sh-she’s drooling almost as much as ngh- me, baby.” He’s fighting back that damn parasite for more more more of you- for every squelch! once he’s mazing his second, third lengthy finger inside.

Searching for your g-spot like treasure trove - hitting and hitting, you’re so pretty and gone that Choso’s chuckling. “Ride it.” Pap-pap-pap goes his hits to your delicate, most tender spots, faster. “Ride it- yeah, ride m’f-face like it’s yours, baby- ride it.”

“S-shoooo much–” And you don’t know whether it’s the torrents of slicked saliva falling from your mouth or the sheer overstimulation that has you jumbling up your syllables - but it’s enough to make both Choso and Venom grin. “It’s so ngh- haaaa–”

“She’s close.”

“Fuh-fuck.” He’s spitting into your drooling lips, right above your pulsating nub. Ringed digits so thick that it makes your knees shake and weaken. Sloppy. “Faster. Harder. Use me, baby-”

Again and again and again.

Your brain’s fuzzily stupid by the time you finally recognize that familiar twist at the bottom of your tummy, too. Blubbering out an unsteady, “P-please! M’not gonna- ngh! last, Cho.”

“I know- I know I know I know– make a mess.” He’s spitting out once more, letting a wad of saliva stream straightly down your slit and liiicking it all up before Venom overtakes him to keep on probin’ your entrance fully. Swirling every speckled tastebud until it was like the symbiote was trying to brand you–

And with a gluttonous swipe at the fresh beads of slick homed on top of your nub, Choso wastes no time before pinching your clit-

“Cum. Cum on my tongue, baby. Mine.”

-and making your field of vision simply shatter with tears once you’re crashing into that built-up high.

“Shit- shiiiiit. I-it feels so good, Cho- I’m- nghhh I’m…” It was an orgasm like no other- fuck, any of your toys were paling in comparison to Choso and his…parasite.

Fully himself now, you gawk with your mouth unlatched into a sagging oh! at the primal way that Choso’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs with each eager swallow. Thin lines of sappy slick falling from the pink, puckered corners of his lips and waterfalling all down the side of his damn throat.

“Th-tha’s it-” His sopping wet tongue drags uuuup n’ down your open folds to trawl you through your euphoria, every lolling flick of the curled end jostling against your thoroughly-stuffed folds.

Pumping, pounding your glutinous walls until they’re sticking to his barreling digits like adhesive, the metallic band curving his fingers smooches your g-spot softly. Dimly-lit molten eyes widening at the sheer ribbons of sap you’re letting off with every white-hot bolt of pleasure.

“This- this is all f’me–?” He’s crooning out, dazed. Letting his jaw fall open with every quiver you’re instinctively clenching with your cunt, “All for me- me. More- more, baby.”

“For me, you mean.”

Choso- Venom- Choso just keeps on alternating their slobbering drags of your hips until you’re completely wrung dry. Even the tiniest spank of their rugged tastebuds making you squeal with overstimulation, tears pinpricking behind your eyes.

“Aw, c-c’mon–” Your best friend slurs out in a tingling, pussydrunken tone - so gone that his perspired head falls n’ cuddles your thigh. Begging, “M-more…?”

“But Cho…m’sensitive.”

And he’s perking his head up like the thought didn’t even occur to him - only then do you get a final, filthy look at your best friend after so long.

Grinning, he sucks on each of his polished, soppy fingers. Each and every one - looking right into your dilated pupils, “That was my first time.”

Fuck.

He was pretty.

Granted, you always did know that, but right now - with Choso’s dark strands of hair hooding his half-opened gaze, what little you could see of his eyes gleaming, cheekbones burning scorched red - he was dreamy.

He’s wearing your saccharine wads of slick like a medal of honor.

Thickly coating everywhere from the tattoo on his nose, to the lower half of his face, to bubble all down his jaw. A slippery wire of it spills from the corner of his mouth as it starts moving, an almost airy tone seeping into his voice. “I-I’m never wiping this off- hey!”

Before he knows it, Venom’s tendrils dart out to filthily lick off the remnant excess his host cherished so much.

Grinning, “Delicious.”

Fighting back his damn alien acquaintance, you stifle a giggle as Choso’s rosy lips jut out into a pout. Lifting his knee onto the bed- well, grindin’ it right between your legs so that he’s putting pressure on your throbbing slope.

Fleshy thumb and index squeezing your cheeks together, “Spit in my mouth.”

“Wh-what?”

“Spit-” His sweaty forehead sticks against yours, humid breath clouding up your senses. And you could count every long lash, every smudge of his dark eyeliner. Hiccuping, “-in my mouth.”

And the moment you do- fuck, the moment you’re pursing your spit-glued lips to let out a saccharine web of saliva that slops right down his pinkish tongue with a splat! So loud and filthy and sinful that Choso only as the time to breath out a shallow ‘fuck!’ before he’s cumming.

Burning hot and feverish. Right then and there to create a dripping damp spot in his trousers- “Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit- you’re t-too-”

“Great going, virgin.”

“Shut up-” Choso grits through clenched teeth, desperately trying to heave his breaths back into some semblance of normalcy. Failing, once you immediately reach over and tug his sweatpants down-

He was cumming and cumming so much that you’re met with a white, streaming wet mess that gleams down both of Choso’s meaty thighs. They’re shivering with each ribbony string of seed that oozes down his long limbs, “O-oh, so pretty, Cho.”

“Oho? She’s an interesting one.”

“I-I know…”

And you’re not just talking about his orgasm.

Because when you’d imagined - on those long, lonely nights - that your best friend would be big…you didn’t expect that he’d be big.

Damn near ten- no, maybe even eleven inches of fat, hot girth that swelled his mushroomy tip to be as cutely pink as a strawberry and just as thick.

Your mouth waters as you follow the winding lightning patterns of his puffy veins, oh-so-prominently bloated that you swear you could count every throb-throb-throb.

And what- what was that?

No, you weren’t imagining it. Choso Kamo had a tiny studded Prince Albert’s piercing right near the tip-top of his bulging cockhead. Cold and sparkling underneath the dim bedroom lighting.

Mindlessly, you’re darting over to swipe one of your thumbs across a creamy bead of cum that’d started drenching his dark happy trail.

“O-oh.” Choso grunts at the look on your gorgeous face once he’s letting his chubby balls twitch n’ soak your skin with yet another splurging streak of seed. Again. Just from you touching him. “No one’s ever touched me like this- fuck!”

And you just had to find out whether he tasted as sweet as he looked.

Planting your mouth over his juice-capped head with a wet plop! you hum with utter delight at the caramel salted taste of him. Aching and pulsing underneath his piercing with just the tiniest kitten lick to his leaking orifice.

“Do it, boy.”

“Wh-what?”

“Do it. I’m inside your mind, do it.”

And Choso really wouldn’t have considered being that rude - really.

He really, really wanted to take his time slow n’ sultry with the one person who’s been the girl of his dreams from the moment he met you.

But fuck- Venom was jerking his body so that with the slightest rock, he’s rutting like a fucking animal deep inside the hot cavern of your mouth. Staining a milky white lipgloss around your plumpened lips, pushing his seed inside—

Venom wanted to see you choke.

“M-mmpf—!” And you can’t lie about the way the sheer force and heady musk of Choso’s v-line made your thighs squeeze.

“That’s it- cry. Cry on my cock- atta girl.”

“Fuck! I’m sorry-” He’s panicking from above as your pretty nose detaches from the curly black tuft of hair at his toned pelvis. “I’m sorry I’m sorry, baby. Are you-”

Only…for all his concerned apologies to shrivel up on Choso’s tongue when he catches the way you’re smiling.

Cockdrunk and stinging at the back of your throat with the way that Venom had actually elongated Choso’s already-massive cock just a few more centimeters by accident. Oh, fuck…

The hazed look that’d crept into your eyes as you look up makes the towering man shiver. Striking him to his very cock, “C’mon- fuck me, Cho.”

“C’mon. Don’t wanna disappoint the pretty girl.”

Choso doesn’t even remember getting rid of his undershirt, his sweatpants, everything but his silver rings and necklace - but what he does remember is the way your eyes had widened just the slightest fraction as you took in all of him.

Shit, was he sculpted by the Greek gods or what?

You could count every one of his eight, toned washboard abs - making the broad width of his pecs look so thick. So engulfing as they tense n’ ripple once your best friend slouches sexily on top of you to pull off your cotton t-shirt.

“Oh.” He’s gasping- you’re not wearing a bra. Completely naked underneath him except for the lecherous remnants of your torn panties still hanging on.

Ones that he keeps on - even when you try to shuffle them down with a whine - once he’s flipping the two of you over to let you straddle his slenderly sculptured hips.

“Keh- this position.”

“Shut up and watch.”

Blushing and pretty.

Choso’s teary lashes knock against the apples of his cheeks as he blinks furiously up at you, throat scratchily raw. Gulping more of your scent, “R-ride me, baby.”

“Cho–” You’re sliding the mounds of your ass gingerly against his aching hot length, shudders skittering down your spine at the sheer size of him pressing up into you. “Y-you’re so big, though- don’t know if it’ll fit.”

“I’ll make it fit-”

“A-am I actually that big?” He’s whispering, in awe. Watching with damply bated breath as he’s spanking his cock against your right ass cheek with a wet smack! smack! smack!

Pointing that curved, bulbous tip right between your pussylips and sliiiiiding it up n’ down so that you’re coating him in all your sweet juices, Choso’s guiding his girth until your hole was quivering for something - anything.

Him him him.

Panting at the first squeeze of his reddened, blushing tip- “Oh, you feel like th-this?” His pitched voice wavers almost as much as his heavy eyelids, falling apart with just that first taste of your perfect cunt. “Fuh-fuuuuuck fuck fuck fuck! Baby- you feel like this?”

This was heaven.

And he’s spurting out a few stray wads of cum just from feeling your velvety walls, letting it thwack! against your goopy innards n’ stick to your trembling folds.

“You got it- you got it.” Choso’s voicebox cracks with a lil’ whimper at that snug resistance, “You can take it- you can take it. I’ll make it fit.”

“Oh- oh my god- Choso- Cho–!”

“S’it too biiig for my girl, hmm?” Croaking out in unison with the aged bedcoils of your mattress, each and every time Choso jerks his hips off the bed and pushes. Just to fit in. “Baby-” Choso gasps as you throw your head back with a mewl at the sheer size of him.

His painfully-aching cock was so big that just the stoutest inch being bullied inside was enough to make your vision blotch with white. Rounded circumference stretching n’ stretching your slick-flooded walls stupid- “I’m sorry, baby- sorry s’big. But you’re my girl- my girl can take it- you can…you can take it.”

It’s inch by overlarge inch.

Choso’s scraping his way down your walls so sensually that you could feel your fuzzy brain sparking every time one of his prominent veins was draaaagging a zig-zagging pattern along.

Curled toes twitching with each passing second, “S-s’it almost all the way in, baby–?”

“Mhm—” And you’re just letting out the cutest cry once he finally eases himself all the way in, practically impaling you. Head throwing back, tits bouncing, cunt overspilling.

“Hmmm…maybe this position isn’t so bad.”

Choso didn’t disagree, but it took every single shred of rationality left inside of him to push back Venom’s rasping voice and wrench out a desperate thrust. Allll the way from the globular ends of his ruby-red tip till your sensitive pussy tickled against his soaked-through happy trail.

Tenderly caressing your palm down his hardened front, “I-it’s in–?” Your hitched tone makes his eyes roll back, and yet- and yet, he’s fighting to bring them back down n’ watch your gaped bounces back into his sloppy pace. “It’s in. O-oh my god, c-can feel you all the way in hck! here.”

He’s just so big.

And you’re swearing that Choso only fattens himself even bigger, fatter, wider once you slide your hand about halfway up your tummy. Feeling for that one spot he was bruisin’ right into your spongy cervix.

Biting his lip not to cum again, “Yeah-” You’re jostled ever-so-slightly on top of him as he’s sucking in a deeeep breath, “Yeah yeah yeah- you got it. Y-you better take all of it hngh! Take every. Single. Inch.”

Every vein, every sliding ridge, every throb that was bucked into your readily-awaiting entrance- Choso wasn’t just mazing open your cunt-

He was spearheading you with such thorough thrusts that made your back curve backwards just so.

“Tch- I’d fuck her even better.”

“No you w-wouldn’t.”

Lazily weaving tendrils start tickling your outer pussy, threatening to slip n’ slide their greedy way past your lips. “Is that a challenge? Summon Venom, if you dare.”

“What’s he saying, Cho?” You coo, tear-shimmered lashes blinking adorably down at his internal argument. And as if he could ever say no to you - hell, the response is dripping from his tongue before he even realizes it.

Grouching out, though he couldn’t deny the way his own cock was jolting at the very idea- “H-he wants a try, too…says he’ll be even better.”

A cockdrunk smile plasters itself onto your face- “Prove it.”

And you were right in your prediction - Venom didn’t just make Choso meaner, it made him bigger.

So big, in fact, that the bawling tip gently kissin’ your g-spot was instantaneously skidding past to give your cervix a longer, harsher probe.

So hard that you’re sure there’s now a permanent crater of his exact meaty circumference. And you’re being filled with the distinct feeling that Venom could’ve gone bigger - he just didn’t want to break you…yet.

Draping across his oversized pectorals, you’re nothing against his over eight foot height. “Y-you…”

Those slimy raven molasses covering his half-fucked face once more to form a rude Cheshire-cat smile. “Me.” Planting an Earth-shattering, mind-numbing ram you’re feeling all the way in your lungs, his pulsing length is so widely thick that Venom has to bite down on his lips and manhandle you for his thrusts to move to and fro. “I am inside your pussy, greedy girl. Me.”

Flicking his dexterous shaft to brush your tingling g-spot, he’s using his powers so much that you could almost feel yourself bonding with the symbiote, with Choso.

“I know every inch, nerve, and spot inside of you. I can make you scream-” Coiling mass contracting to barrel your elastic walls even wider, you’re rightfully crying out at the way he molds himself deliciously into your very walls.

“Nghhh- fuck! Fuck, y-you’re in sooo deep-”

Stealing your sweetened scent, making him heated. “Hmmm, kiss me.”

But that didn’t mean that your best friend- your…Choso was going down that easy.

In a few more brushstrokes of his ravaging cock against your softest spot - before you can kiss him - Choso’s blinking back the cobwebs of his symbiote so that his face spies out. Only the lower half of his body - his length - partially-covered–

“Keh- annoying.”

“Should’ve- should’ve done this sooner-” He hisses out through a narrowed pant, flecks of spittle flying angrily across the non-existent space between your two faces. “-done this muuuuch sooner- you h-have no idea.”

“O-oh nghhh fuck fuck fuck–” The backs of your thighs ache after every slamming pap! you’re bouncing back into his swervin’ hips.

Pounding away like he was crazed, every jackhammer only makes Choso grow more feral. Every swab of his prolonged cock inside your silken pussy feral-

His rummaging, fat-tipped shaft was so large that you could feel the way his ridged cockhead scraped your cervix with his studded Prince Albert’s, roaming like a searchlight to spot your most favorite angles.

Eyeliner practically staining down his cheeks now, “Should’ve fuh-fucked you the moment I ngh- met you. Should’ve fucked you r-right there on the lecture table in front of everyone- sh-should’ve—” You’re squealing once his doughy, ringed fingertips dart down to toy with that pretty lil’ clit of yours. “-should’ve let her drive me hck! crazy sooner, baby.”

Oh, he was babbling.

Cooing, you slither one of your hands through the dampened valleys of his dark hair, “Awww– d-drivin’ you crazy, Cho–?”

“Yes.” He’s seething, he’s heaving. Saturated pheromones driving him mad, he can’t help but flop his pierced tongue across your lips and suck. “S-s’not even that damn parasite anymore-”

Pace growing sloppier by the minute, barely even noticing when those same digits coddling your clit had started to twist and turn in shape. Overtaken by Venom and his meeeean tendrils that alternate between dragging on your overstimulated clit and slipping inside…

“Sh-shit– Venom?”

“Sayin’ another man’s name when I-I’m here- ngh–” Choso’s nosebridge crinkles as he teases you, watery honeypool eyes dropping down to where your glossy hole was swallowing him whole.

Mouth falling into an ah! at the way Venom’s wisping vines were still wrapped snugly to smooch your walls wiiiide open. And fuck- fuck, the sight. The sight of you bulging with all of his staggering cock still taking in more, more, more of him.

“I see…” He’s giggling - giggling, glassy eyes boring dead-on up at you through his curtained bangs and oh- they were shaped into hearts. Baritone voice rasping as one of his veins itches your walls, snagging past your underwear. “Greedy girl.”

It’s almost as if you didn’t know whether it was Choso or Venom taking over now, only fucked dumb with every sharp jut. Both his cock- his tentacle-like strands spreading you open, targeting your g-spot over n’ over with his plummy, split-ended tip.

Digging inside, scouring so wetly.

Spread twice as open that the squelch! squelch! squelch! of it resonating each nanosecond was quickly becoming Choso’s favorite song.

You were damn near shattered.

“I-I’m so close-” You’re hiccuping through your salty tears, brows scrunching at the stormy wave of bliss that was surely oncoming. “-f-fuck! Choso m’gonna cum.”

“Fuck- fuck, m’not gonna last either–” His response comes out guttural, and it’s just so sexy the way that he’s forced to gnaw on the strawberry gummy texture of the inside of his cheeks to stop himself from filling you up right then and there.

Tender, aching balls squeezing dangerously before-

“Breed her.” Venom’s voice thunders out enough for the both of you to hear, excitement spiking down your spine and straight to where your pussy was drooling. “I know you want to. I know you both want it.”

Shocked, Choso sounds as if he could still barely even believe this was all real. “I-is that true, baby?” Tentatively craning you over to drag his lips softly against yours, “Can I really…inside…my girl?”

“Mhm– please- please, I wan’ it all inside—!”

“G-get ready.”

The plush, cushy tip of his cock outlines a water-logged line straight down your cervix as Choso leans further into the bed. Feet planting down flatly so that he can pressurize his powerful, inhuman hips to thrust-

“She’s about t-to be full- so full.” You can feel such pangs of desire as his teeth pull back into a primal snarl, tear-glinted eyes locked permanently where his red, swollen cock was disappearing between your legs. “So full that you won’t even remember what it ngh- feels like w-without me stuffed inside this cunt.”

Squirming with a yearning for sweet, sweet release once he hovers a fingertip over to about halfway up your tummy and draws an invisible line there.

“H-here.” Deepening it with the pressure of his rude digits, Choso’s right hand still rolls over your clit with a few shapes of hearts. Once. Twice. Thrice. “Get ready here–”

Whining, “I’m- I’m gonna-”

Before Venom’s slimy tendrils pinch it once more and you’re cumming- and so is he.

But Choso doesn’t even realize it - doesn’t even remember to breathe the very moment you’re creaming all down his pummeling cock. Such cute twitches taking over your body as you shut your eyes and riiiide it all out.

Using his sloppily saturated shaft like a dart that was pokin’ the bullseye of your pussy again and again. Every brushing skid straight across slapping your g-spot repeatedly to drag out your high with a squeeeelch.

And Choso’s licking his lips at the glossy lathering that glued to your folds, then - and only then - catching sight of the dollops of creamy white that was frothing out of your glistening entrance.

Thick and hot.

Every splat! of his ribbony sap hits the back of your pussy like heavily condensed cream, swashing inside of you like a sizzling second skin. It feels so filthy to have his mess beading down your walls and forming such a soaking ring ‘round his bulky hilt.

Your meaty folds spread to smear the puddle that was forming up his happy trail, “You- you feel so good inside.”

“O-oh-” Almost thankful as Venom’s dark strands push aside your torn, sullied panties further for his host to take a better look. Blushing all the way to the tattoos across his nosebridge, “A…a creampie.”

He’d cum- he’d really, really cum - inside of you. Pressing down on the prettily jiggling tummy bulge he was fucking into you- and it’s enough to make you scream. “Want more.”

And you’re just tapering off from your own orgasm, eardrums nearly popped yet still managing to register those words. Clenching, “Wh-what? Will it- hngh- even fit, Choso?”

“No- nononono it will- it will.” Urgent, rapidly he’s flipping the two of you immediately over to hover on top of you and rut- like an animal.

You’re gasping once your head plops down on the soft mattress, heels struggling to cling onto Choso’s sweat-laminated hips until he’s trekking his beefy arms underneath and hauling them over his shoulders. Bending, bending, bending into a–

Oh, a mating press.

He had you manhandled like some lawnchair into a mating press. The sloppiest of its kind, he’s using Venom’s tendrils to lock your ankles together in just two blinks of his eye.

“I can make it fit–” Growling through the tiniest gaps of his grit pearly whites, he kisses his forehead to yours and inhales that sweet scent of yours still permeating the heady air. The chilly heard pendant of his necklace hits the front of your chin and makes you keen. Rough, rugged through punctuating rams, “I will- I will I will- it’ll fit- It will.”

Shivering and shuddering.

He struggles to even focus his eyesight on you properly - and Choso’s heated maw droooops at the deafening squelch! your pussy pushes out once he sinks all the way back in.

A thick capping of white syrup rising all the way to the top once his massive girth once more fills out your every nook and cranny. He’s still so ravenous that the sight down there is enough to make his mouth water.

And this position, this angle made Choso’s elongated shaft lean into your g-spot so bruisingly that with only a few more strokes you’re cumming again.

Fleeting, and faster than you both know it.

It’s only once Choso sniffs at the air and grins that he realizes the rapidly pulsing ba-dump–! of your velveteen walls was because you’re bein’ his good girl and cumming once more.

Heavy breeder balls striking the treacly slope of your cunt until they were raw and red - you’re sure that the both of you are bruised everywhere. His thighs on your own, your ass on his pelvis, you can’t even wriggle your ankles free because Venom’s keeping a firm grip on them.

Rendering you at the full mercy of Choso’s thrashes dragging out your high, “P-please- fuck- it just f-feels too good, Cho-!”

“S’good- s’good-” He’s flushing out in something that looks like a mix of relief and need. No sooner milking himself on your tightly clenched pussy until you’re being filled all over again.

This time with white, wispy ropes of seed that ache his sensitive shaft to spray out, still coating your gummy walls with viscid layers upon layers. So much.

“So good f’me- so good. Look how much sh-she’s ngh- suckin’ in, sooooo full and- and warm…” He was practically twitching right now, trembling. “Jus’ look at that greedy girl.”

You couldn’t even be moved without feeling all its wads splosh inside of you.

And he still wanted more.

Yelping, your legs struggle to shut once his sloppy cadence turns even sloppier. Lazier.

“O-one more-” Choso’s puffing out in a clouded pant, “Keep- keep those pretty legs hck! open f’me- I beg. M’begging- take it, baby.”

Vein-covered forearms placing attractively upon either side of your head to lace right on top of your crowned scalp and push- Weaving wines of the symbiote winding down to furiously pump his cock.

To bloat himself up oh-so-thick straight after two whole orgasms, flying up and down up and down up and down to make his cherry-red divot start weeping once more. “One more- one more.”

“Nghh fuck fuck- Choso–!” Your lower lip wobbles cutely at the carnal glissade of his washboard abs down your own front, he was so strong that you could count every flex and ripple. “S-shooo sensitive-” Eyes shuttering tearfully, you can only jerk your hips up weakly. “-so much. Too much.”

“Never too much.”

Venom’s voice speaks up from somewhere, and you’re feeling the snaking, slimy journey of his tendrils twistin’ around your tits to grope. A greedy handful that teases your hardened nipples so–

“Less talking. More fucking.”

“W-woah-” Choso breathes at the sight before him. You were ruined in only ways he’d seen in his wettest dreams - and it’s not like he was doing any better. Because the way your hips were moving…“B-birthing hips- look at h-her take that big fuckin’ cock. So pretty- so pretty so pretty so pretty.”

You’re so overstimulated that even the slightest brush of his lightning bolted veins makes you gasp- tears springing up to your eyes. “F-feels so…oh.” So good, his stamina was maddening.

“Yeah? Yeahhh? S’all for you- only for you-” Purposefully pressing up close so that your poor clit gets rubbed over by that patch of tawny brown at the base of his abs.

And by now, even Choso’s swivellin’ cold piercing was molten hot and drawing wet slides of cum across your walls. Fervently.

He was fucking you like he couldn’t get enough - would never possibly be able to get enough. Every thrust had him pushing you down once more after the papping recoil, gliding your feverishly sweat-slicked bodies against each other because Choso couldn’t bear to part. “Only for you only for you only for you-”

So gone that he almost doesn’t even register Venom’s deep tone muttering in his ear– “Three.”

Every heated bang of his mushroomy tip plummeting to the back of your overspilling cunt was meant to milk himself. Over and over, he’s tempting out just one more orgasm - just one more to fill you up with more cream. “Two.”

And in your rambling stupor, you’re being drilled into the mattress so spellbound that you don’t even notice the way your unfastened mouth nibbles on Choso’s sexy silver necklace.

“One.”

Gnawing on for dear life as you squirt.

“Oh.”

Simply spraying him with a voluminous heap of your sweet, sappy juices - Choso has the mindless audacity to crane his head even further downwards and catch whatever stray remnants hit his awaiting maw.

“F-fuck…” You feel like you’ve just been put through ten thousand wringers and milked dry from your poor, tingling core. Gushing and gushing- it’s almost embarrassing how much you’re leaking around Choso’s meaty base.

Well, embarrassing for everyone but Choso…and Venom.

He was mesmerized - he was hypnotized. A glistening few droplets of pussydrunken drool slipping from the corner of his mouth as he just watched himself get drenched in all your torrential orgasm whilst he emptied out for the third- fourth, fuck he doesn’t even know - inside you.

Raw, and messy - milking himself until he’s hitting a damn dry orgasm.

“O-oh.” Choso doesn’t even know what to fucking say above your cutely trilling mewls, every languid pump of his flinching cock sending massive shockwaves through both of you. He blushes, “Oh.”

“That was fun. Now, make her yours or I will.” Venom grumbles, the symbiote already starting to take over Choso’s body with its blackened mass.

And the man jolts- remembering all at once that this was you you you underneath him. Thumb absent-mindedly reaching down to write his last name over the mess spurted across your tummy.

You, who he’s wanted all his life-

“M-marry me, my girl.”

The smile that breaks across your face is one he’ll remember for eons.

“I love you, too, Cho–” You’re purring, tucking one of the mahogany strands plastered onto his forehead behind his ear.

“I love you.” He’s bursting out at once- rose-pink lips wobbly and wet against your own. He’s kissing you like he needed you to breathe, “I love you- oh, how I love you.”

“Satisfying. But we need more.”

“Dammit.”

And Venom doesn’t care - Venom cackles to himself as he seethes in yet another gust of your honey-dipped scent and pulls out. The sensitivity startling through your body is so shocking that he’s shooting out a dark web that attaches your hips to the bed. Unmoving.

But, of course, he takes his leisurely time to stroll near the edge of your bed. Monstrously hulking over it to sweep apart your bloated pussylips and watch the way Choso’s cum driiiiips out.

Now completely encompassing his body— “A three course meal. Yum.”

He was far from done.

You’re sobbing at the sloooooow draaaag of his glistening, large tastebuds down your weeping hole. Unapologetic and primal. “F-fuck! Your stamina…” It was truly monstrous just how pent-up that he was right now, being pushed off by your new boyfriend- fiancé? for so long now.

Holding you tight with a few tendrils ‘round your waist to keep you from running—

“We’re going to keep this one.” His long, venomous teeth sink into your inner-thigh, not toxic to you. Not at all, but claiming; and the feeling was as good as cumming again. “You’re ours now, pretty girl.”

A/N. RAHHH I TOLD Y’ALL I’D DO IT MWAHAHAHAH-

Plagiarism not authorized.

#choso x reader #choso smut #choso x you #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo smut #choso kamo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen #choso #tonywrites #choso kamo

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buckysleftbicep · 19 days ago

Text

for better or for worse (1) 𐙚 b.b

pairing: new avenger!bucky barnes x fem!reader (fake marriage au)

warnings: nsfw, 18+, minors, dni, sexual tension, one bed trope,

summary: you and bucky are forced to play newlyweds at a luxury honeymoon resort. he’s controlling, you’re reckless, and now you’re sharing a bed. the problem? it’s getting harder to play pretend. and you’re not sure either of you will survive what comes next.

word count: 2.5k

author's note: hi my loves! this is one of my uncompleted series, and i'm posting in hopes i could be motivated to complete it! if you'd like for a chapter two, let me know! your support means a lot to me <333

series masterlist

“You can’t be serious.”

Your voice cut sharply through the room, echoing off the concrete walls of the team's briefing room. The table was scattered with dossiers, mission files, half-drunk coffee, and exactly zero logic as far as you were concerned.

Val didn’t even blink. She just sat there at the head of the table, calm as ever, the faintest glint of amusement betraying her otherwise impassive face. “Dead serious.”

You folded your arms, glaring. “Out of everyone here… him?”

“I’m flattered,” Bucky muttered beside you, tone flat as a dry desert. He didn’t even look your way, probably didn’t want to see the way your eyes narrowed like you were about to throw something sharp at him.

Val’s smirk deepened. She leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, fingers steepled under her chin like a cartoon villain with far too much power. “You two have unresolved issues, so congratulations. You’re married now.”

Yelena let out a full snort of laughter, clapping a hand over her mouth like she was watching a slow-motion car crash.

John gave a low, gleeful whistle. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

“Why can’t you send Walker?” you snapped, jerking a thumb at him. “He already looks like he belongs on a honeymoon with his ego.”

“He have emotional capacity of wrecking ball,” Alexei chimed in, voice thick with his Russian accent, waving a hand dismissively. “Very destructive, not subtle.”

“No, I don’t—” John started to protest, indignant.

Yelena rolled her eyes. “You cried at Fast and Furious 7, and it wasn’t even the sad part.”

John scowled. “It had layers.”

She dropped a thick file onto the table. Glossy surveillance photos slid free, including a few charred, smoking blueprints and a shot of Raskovic toasting champagne in a cabana.

“His last shipment,” Val continued, “levelled half a research compound in Tunisia. I need charm, subtlety. Not testosterone."

You let out a disbelieving huff and gestured vaguely in Bucky’s direction without looking at him. “And you think this has charm?”

“I ooze charm,” Bucky said flatly.

You finally turned to glance at him. “Yeah, I can see that. Real honeymoon material.”

Yelena grinned wide, leaning across the table toward you like she was settling in for the drama. “This is going to be so entertaining.”

“Better than reality TV,” Ava added, her boots kicked up on the table, legs crossed lazily.

Alexei clapped his hands together, beaming like someone’s very drunk uncle at a wedding. “Marriage is beautiful thing, bond of love. Trust."

You turned your gaze back to Val, still hoping against reason that she would crack and admit this was some twisted, long-game prank. “There has to be another way.”

She gave you that look. The one that always meant: I could have you killed and get away with it. And then she smiled, teeth sharp and polished.

“Not unless you want to tell the weapons dealer you’re siblings who sometimes make out.”

You blinked, as John gagged audibly in the background.

“…Fine,” you muttered, jaw clenching.

Bucky didn’t even react. He just let out a grunt, pushing his chair back slightly. “Let’s get this over with.”

With a dramatic flourish, Val produced two small velvet boxes from her bag and slid them across the table. “Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Barnes. Honeymoon begins in twenty-four hours. And if either of you screw this up, if he suspects anything, you’re both done. There are no second chances with Raskovic. None.”

You flipped open your box. Inside, a slim platinum band gleamed under the overhead lights. It looked delicate, elegant, like something a real wife would wear, if she didn’t want to commit murder against her husband before check-in.

Val’s voice was cool as steel. “Play the part. Laugh. Kiss. Look like you can’t keep your hands off each other. Be convincing.”

“Oh, we’ll be convincing,” Bucky muttered as he slid the ring onto his finger, his voice almost too casual. “Won’t we, sweetheart?”

You didn’t answer.

You were too busy imagining what it would feel like to punch your fake husband in the face.

Six Hours Later

“Tell me again why I agreed to this,” you muttered, yanking your suitcase behind you as the team's transport SUV barrelled down a sun-drenched coastal road, the ocean stretching endlessly beside it like a taunt.

The scent of saltwater mixed with the heat of the asphalt, the resort town glinting in the distance like something out of a luxury magazine ad you would never willingly sign up for.

Bucky’s voice cut through the silence from the driver’s seat. “Because you have a hero complex,” he said, one hand firm on the wheel, the other draped lazily across the armrest like he wasn’t wearing a metaphorical wedding ring that made your eye twitch. “And you like pretending you don’t.”

You scoffed, adjusting your sunglasses as you shot him a glare. “Because I was assigned to this.”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Because you’re reckless and don’t listen to orders.”

Your head snapped toward him, the suitcase thudding into your shin as you turned in your seat. “Because you're a controlling jackass who never takes the stick out of his—”

“Children,” came John’s voice through the SUV’s overhead comms, the speaker crackling just enough to ruin the moment. “Behave. Uncle Walker’s listening in.”

You rolled your eyes so hard it hurt.

“I’m placing bets,” Yelena chimed in, the sound of chewing echoing faintly behind her smug tone. “Three days before they fuck. Two before they kill each other.”

“Both, maybe same night,” Alexei added almost cheerfully in the background, as if he were discussing weather patterns.

You let out a long, exasperated breath and turned back to the road, jaw tight, sunglasses hiding the slow blink of disbelief at your life choices.

Bucky didn’t look at you, but you could feel the smugness radiating off him like heat from the dash.

“You should rest,” he said, casting a sidelong glance your way. “You’re crankier than usual.”

You crossed your arms, slumping just enough to make your annoyance known. “Maybe I’d be in a better mood if I wasn't married the most aggravating man on the planet.”

Bucky smirked like you’d handed him a trophy. “I didn’t realise I outranked Walker.”

“I’m flattered,” came John’s voice again, low and mildly wounded. “Thanks, guys. Warms the heart.”

Twenty Minutes Later – Resort Arrival

The second your foot hit the ground, you nearly choked on the air.

The resort was obscene—like someone gave a billionaire an unlimited budget and said, go nuts.

The entrance was framed with cascading white orchids, marble walkways that looked freshly polished gleamed under the golden tropical sun, and an honest-to-god quartet played soft jazz somewhere near a sculpted garden arch.

Fountains bubbled lazily with rose petals floating on the surface, and in the distance, gauzy white silk cabanas shimmered beside an infinity pool that looked like it led directly into the ocean. Uniformed staff moved like clockwork, trays of champagne glasses catching the light like diamonds.

Bucky stepped up beside you, duffel slung over his shoulder, and took it all in with an arched brow. “Great,” he muttered under his breath. “We’re in a Bond villain’s wet dream.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself. “Try not to glower too hard. We’re supposed to be happy newlyweds, remember?”

His gaze flicked to you, mouth twitching like he wanted to laugh or maybe bite. “Try not to stab anyone with your heels.”

You didn’t reply. Not because he was right, but because the stilettos Val made you pack could absolutely be used as a weapon. And likely would.

Inside, the air conditioning hit like a blessing. The check-in lobby was all white marble and gold accents, with soft lighting that made your skin glow unnaturally perfect.

A stunning concierge greeted you with the kind of practiced smile that made you want to start lying immediately.

“Welcome to El Alma Dorada, Mr. and Mrs. Barnes,” she said, hands clasped over a sleek tablet. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Before you could even fake a smile, Bucky’s hand slid into yours.

It was warm—calloused, solid, and entirely too steady. You blinked down at the contact just as he turned on a grin so smooth it knocked the wind out of you.

He leaned in a little, close enough that you could smell his cologne, feel the press of his thumb brushing slow, affectionate circles against your knuckles.

“Couldn’t wait to get here,” he said easily, voice pitched low and full of some fabricated warmth. “Isn’t that right, babe?”

Your mouth went a little dry.

“…Uh—yeah,” you stammered, smile slow to appear as you forced yourself to lean into his shoulder like it was second nature. “We’re just so excited to start our new life together.”

His hand squeezed yours—subtle, but firm. Reminding you.

Play the part.

You turned your head just enough to rest lightly against his bicep, stretching your grin until your cheeks ached. “So excited.”

The concierge giggled, clearly charmed. “Your honeymoon suite is ready, and the champagne has been chilled. You’ll find rose petals and—”

“Perfect,” Bucky cut in smoothly, his voice suddenly thick with something intimate, possessive. “Can’t keep my hands off her.”

Your stomach flipped so fast it made you dizzy.

There was a cough—stifled, but unmistakable through the comms. Someone was definitely listening.

Probably Yelena. Or John, trying not to laugh himself into an aneurysm.

“Aw,” Yelena cooed through the comms, voice syrup-sweet. “You two are so cute I’m gonna throw up.”

And told yourself not to murder your fake husband until at least after the complimentary breakfast.

The suite was ridiculous.

Floor-to-ceiling windows wrapped around half the space, bathing the room in warm, golden afternoon light. The ocean shimmered beyond the glass in postcard perfection, the view so breathtaking it too pristine to be real.

The ivory stone floors gleamed under your heels, each click echoing faintly as you stepped further inside. Silk-draped furniture was arranged like a magazine spread, and on the private balcony, a plunge pool glistened like a sapphire.

A bottle of vintage champagne waited on ice by the sitting area, and just past that, a trail of red rose petals led delicately toward—

“Oh, hell no.”

You stopped in your tracks, eyes locked ahead, body gone still.

Bucky stepped in behind you and raised a brow as he followed your line of sight. He didn’t say anything, just strolled past with calm and tossed your suitcase beside his own like the room didn’t feel like a honeymoon-themed fever dream.

The bed, if you could even call it that, was massive. King-sized, or maybe some custom size beyond your comprehension. It was piled with pristine white linens, oversized down pillows, and a tufted headboard that screamed expensive sin.

The rose petals continued onto the mattress like an arrow pointing straight to your worst nightmare.

Just one bed.

Of course.

You let out a slow, withering breath. “Real polite of you,” you muttered dryly as Bucky moved toward the closet like this was just another mission and not the set of some soft-core romance movie.

“I’m your husband, remember?” he shot back without looking at you, voice dripping with sarcastic charm that made your eye twitch.

You stepped further into the room, suitcase wheels clicking softly across the marble as your gaze remained stubbornly on the bed. “One bed,” you said, mostly to yourself. “Of course.”

“I’ll take the couch,” Bucky said immediately, nodding toward a chaise lounge in the corner.

It was upholstered in gold-tinged fabric, delicate and ornamental. Clearly decorative. Barely big enough for one leg, let alone a super soldier.

You turned and stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are we, five?”

His brow rose. “I just figured—”

“We can share the bed,” you cut in, voice quieter now, trying not to sound as reluctant as you felt. “It’s not like we haven’t been in worse situations.”

He paused. Something flickered in his eyes, too quick to name. Surprise, maybe. Something unreadable, something that made your stomach tighten for half a second.

But then it was gone, shuttered behind the same mask he always wore when things got a little too real.

“Sure,” he said, easy as anything. “Whatever you want, princess.”

You rolled your eyes and turned toward the vanity, focusing on unpacking anything just to keep your hands busy. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

The words came out smooth, sarcastic, like everything else from his mouth—but the undertone lingered. He moved toward the bathroom, muttering something under his breath about needing a shower.

And then—like he knew you were watching—he reached up and began undoing the top button of his shirt.

Your fingers froze on the zipper of your bag.

One button. Then the next. Then the next.

You watched—damn it, of course you watched. It wasn’t the first time you had seen Bucky shirtless, but this wasn’t mid-mission or after a fight.

There was no adrenaline. No distraction. Just him, standing in honeyed sunlight, undoing each button with casual ease like he wasn’t setting your pulse on fire.

He shrugged the shirt off one shoulder, then the other, folding it neatly before placing it at the edge of the bed. His left arm remained wrapped in a sleek black compression sleeve, but the shimmer of gold vibranium still peeked through.

His chest was broad and solid, scarred in places, inked in others. Each line of muscle moved with practiced grace, abs flexing slightly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

You tried not to stare. You really tried.

And then, just to finish you off, the bastard looked at you.

“Want me to leave the door open while I shower?” he asked, tone light. Innocent. Too innocent.

Your mouth went dry. “Why the hell would I want that?”

He smirked, eyes glittering with amusement as he tilted his head. “Thought you might want to join me. Water pressure’s supposed to be incredible.”

You narrowed your eyes, but the heat rising up your neck betrayed you. “You wish.”

“I do, actually.”

You jerked your gaze to the minibar, to the flowers, anywhere that wasn’t his bare chest or that infuriating mouth. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He stepped closer as he passed—barefoot, because of course he was—his voice lowering to a near whisper. You could feel the warmth of him as he brushed by, feel the smugness radiating off every inch.

“Just say the word.”

Then he disappeared into the bathroom, the door clicking shut behind him with frustrating calm.

You stood there for a long beat, staring at the etched floral pattern on the wall. Your heart thumped uncomfortably, your skin too warm, your thoughts, well, they didn’t belong anywhere near a mission file.

This was going to be a problem.

Your earpiece crackled to life.

“Hey lovebirds,” Yelena said sweetly, voice soaked in amusement. “Remember the comms are still on, yes? We can hear everything.”

You groaned, ripped the tiny device from your ear, and tossed it onto the nightstand like it had personally betrayed you.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

a/n: here is me hoping you enjoyed this chapter! love ya and stay safe out there!

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swanlikely · 1 month ago

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Current Brainrot: Drunk Reader! w/ Boyfriend Caleb!

Author's Note: I wanted to write something sweet again—him being a little overbearing but it’s cute. This is Caleb and his girl being gross and cringe, and in love, as usual. Please check out the artist! She's such a sweetie, and she's talented! (Artist & Original Post)

not proof-read! (sorry if there are any errors - let me know and I'll fix it!)

CW: AFAB!reader, pet names, possessive behavior, alcohol use (reader), slight dub-con (if you squint), suggestive ending.

Caleb is the kind of boyfriend who says, “Go have fun, baby,” and means it; but still stands posted, watching, in the corner of every bar you drag him to. He lets you dance, drink, flirt with your friends, yell-laugh at karaoke, and scream-sob over fries in the back booth like it's a sacred ritual. All while he nurses a single drink and watches you with the kind of soft-eyed amusement that says: That’s my girl. Loud, messy, gorgeous. Mine.

Anyone who looks too long gets a stare. Not a scowl; not enough to draw attention. Just a faint warning in his eyes. He doesn't interrupt, only hovers. But everyone knows you didn’t come here alone.

You catch his gaze across the bar more than once. He doesn’t budge. Just lifts his brows like, You sure? — and when you pout, he caves. Of course he does.

He doesn’t even like dancing. He just likes you.

And he follows you like it’s instinct. Loyal in that unshakable way; like a dog who’s chosen their person and never once thought of looking back. He keeps the dog tag you gave him years ago in pristine condition, always polished and shining on the chain around his neck. You joked about it once, calling it his collar.

He’d smile, fingers brushing over it absentmindedly. Like it was a privilege he never planned to take off.

Sometimes, when you’re feeling extra bratty, you'd call him your golden retriever boyfriend.

Big. Loyal. Always underfoot. Quick to roll over and give you anything you want.

He usually snorts, eyes gleaming. “I’m a Colonel, Pips, not a pet.”

“Uh-huh,” you hum, poking at his chest. “You follow me around all night, you take my boots off, you carry my bag, and you’d probably bark if I asked.”

Caleb raises an eyebrow. He considered it, for a moment at least.

You pause, then snicker. “Actually, you’re more like a German shepherd.”

He just shrugs, smirking. “I bite if I have to.”

“Yeah, yeah. My big tough lapdog.” You slur as those glossy lips lifted into a grin.

That earns you a growl: low, playful, and way too pleased.

By the time he gets you home, you’re giggling at nothing and absolutely useless. Your boots are halfway off, your eyeliner is migrating to your temples, and you're swaying on your feet like the floor’s made of jelly.

But Caleb? Caleb lives for this part.

He’s all quiet efficiency now. Scoops you into the bathroom with one arm around your waist and sits you on the counter. He holds your chin with his cool metal hand as he swipes away your makeup with a cotton pad, eyes fixed on your face like you’re some precious artifact.

“You had fun tonight,” he murmurs, thumb brushing under your eye. “You look like a raccoon.”

“You love raccoons,” you grin, and he huffs a laugh.

He helps you out of your clothes next — not even in a weird way (not yet, anyway), just slow and patient, peeling off layers like you're delicate. Your socks are the last to go, and he rolls them down with that same robotic hand, his touch cold but sweet as he kisses the inside of your ankle.

He adores this. Taking care of you. Spoiling you. Making sure you never have to lift a finger if you don’t want to. You’d barely have to ask; Caleb would already be there, already doing it, like it’s wired into him.

“You’re such a sap,” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut.

“Maybe,” he says, lips brushing higher up your leg. “But you’re mine.”

His voice dips on that word. Not playful. Final.

And when he presses one more kiss — higher, warmer, slower; your breath hitches just a little.

Not so drunk now, are you?

He chuckles at the look on your face. “C’mon, Pips,” he says, voice low as he leans in. “Let me tuck you in. And if you’re real good…”

His mouth brushes your ear.

“…maybe I won’t stop there.”

You barely get a breath in before his lips trail along your jaw, down your neck, unhurried like he’s tracing a map he’s already memorized. His metal hand drifts up your thigh, cool and relaxed, while his other curls behind your knee, tugging you just a little closer to the edge of the counter.

“You were drivin’ me crazy tonight,” he murmurs, and your skin begins to vibrate. He was electrifying. “Spinnin’ around like that, laughin’ like I didn’t want to drag you out of there and keep you all to myself.”

“You don’t even realize what you do to me,” you catch the warmth of him, the faint scent of his cologne mixed with sweat and something uniquely Caleb—clean, a little musky, and completely intoxicating. “All night, I wanted to touch you—wanted to pull you close, but I held back.”

“I was good,” he hums, voice low. “I waited. But damn, it was hard not to just… reach for you.”

There’s no teasing in it. Just that low, confessional tone he gets when he’s close to breaking. When he’s been good for too long.

“I watched you have your fun,” he says, lips brushing your sternum, “now let me have mine.”

Your head lolls back against the mirror as his tongue flicks against your skin, warm where his hand is cold, and your whole body goes pliant under his touch. He kisses down your stomach, sinking to his knees without a single word of warning, spreading your legs with a reverence that makes your pulse stutter.

“Shh,” Caleb soothes, but a shiver and a flash of heat travels through your middle.

“I’ve got you now,” he breathes, eyes half-lidded as he presses a kiss between your thighs, like a thank you. Like a promise.

“You don't have to do anything else tonight, Pips,” he whispers. “Let me take care of you.”

And he does.

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mv1simp · 7 months ago

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Vegas, Baby (I Wanna Ride) ♥️

Max Verstappen x Friend!Reader

welcome to vegas baby, give me money, give me diamonds, give me rubies baby (get on your knees and beg me please to let you in me)

Tonight's a big night for the Redbull team in Las Vegas. Max Verstappen just won his 4th WDC, and you, his good friend, just won your first F2 race. After months of rising sexual tension, the line between you and Max starts blurring during a wild Vegas afterparty. Nothing beats crowning a 4th championship than passionate celebration sex, right?

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, dom! Max, sub! Reader who’s playing mind games to seduce him, size kink, praise kink, cream pie, morally dubious relationship status but no cheating, drunk passionate sex with max post WDC is literally the epitome of my dreams, 5.3k WC

Max! The blonde Dutchman’s concentration shifts from one of the many post Las Vegas Grand Prix interviews he’s been coerced into to hear your familiar voice excitedly calling for him. His cute smile turns into an even more gorgeous grin as he spots you making a beeline across the media pen, long curls flying behind you. The cameras rapidly start stuttering as you practically leap into Max’s arms when he tightly hugs you back, lifting you up off the ground easily. Congratulations, Maxie! you gush excitedly, beaming up at him with genuine emotion. I’m so happy for you, you deserve this win so much!

Pink dusts the cheeks of the now 4 time world champion from your attention as he looks down at your shorter frame, his muscular arms snugly around your waist. You couldn’t care less about the sticky champagne drenching his suit, because your own RB suit is wet from your celebration of winning the F2 race earlier that day. You too, schatje, Max returns warmly, the paparazzi completely ignored. Winning your first race, in Las Vegas too, from P11? I’m so proud of you! Now you're blushing as he tousles your hair affectionately. You two are just good friends, of course, and Max is in a relationship with a model - even though it's a rather turbulent one. But the F1 gossip mill is always running rampant with rumours about your relationship with Max - especially with the overfamiliar touches you're both now leaving with lingering hands on each other.

The interviewers flock at the chance to interview the F1 and F2 champions together, who provide them with entertaining answers fueled by the 3rd G&T that Max has already started drinking from his Redbull bottle. You smirk and raise your own bottle to cheers against his, making Max’s icy blue eyes twinkle with amusement as he realises you’re very much on the same wavelength of starting celebrations early. Great minds think alike, right Maxie? you wink conspiratorially, making him laugh. The media reps are basically forgotten as the pair of you end up in your own conversation of excited yapping about adrenaline fueled moments from your races, littered with inside jokes lost to the viewers.

When his PR manager calls Max's name, trying to prevent anymore dubious scandals, the blonde looks apologetically towards you, promising that the two of you would have to celebrate properly tonight, okay? You nod eagerly as you watch him go for the rest of his media duties, your smile so wide that your cheeks almost hurt. You’re still buzzing with adrenaline of your own win, and know that your own manager won’t be happy with the pictures of you practically climbing Max to hug him, not an inch of space between you as he pulls you against him. After all, the tabloids love to speculate that there’s something more between the Redbull 3 time - now 4! - world champion and you, the rising talent in F2 with your Redbull Academy seat, and one of the very few women on the grid.

That’s how you and Max had met - on the Redbull practice circuit, the two of you the only ones wanting to practise in horrific conditions of rain and hail. He’d been curious to see another car with the familiar Bull logo out on the track, and then found himself even more curious when the helmet came off to reveal your cutely flushed face and pretty curls that fell down your back. You became fast friends, after you got along your initial awe of 3x WDC Max Verstappen casually giving you driving pointers. He was actually an incredibly humble and loyal friend, and you appreciated how much time he'd spent out of his busy schedule to help you. Meanwhile, Max found your conversation and humour so refreshing compared to other junior drivers who would suck up to him, and you were never afraid to give Max a piece of your mind with your fiery, passionate personality - similar to his. For the first time in months since he'd started dating his demanding girlfriend, who always told Max off for being too loud or making immature jokes, Max found himself genuinely relaxing and speaking freely.

So with all the time on the practise track, and then off the track when you moved to Monaco and began attending the same parties, padel games and hungover brunches with Max, it was no surprise the two of you had become good friends - with a lot of speculation from the public. Many of his fans and friends disliked his current relationship with the pretty model who constantly used Max's name for her own clout with little interest in his passion for racing and e-sim gaming. In comparison, the easy laughs and witty banter seen frequently between you and Max had many conspiring that you'd be a far better match for the F1 champion. Especially in today's Las Vegas interviews, where the growing electric chemistry was palpable to viewers even through the screen.

Of course, you'd never admit to anyone that you secretly agreed with all the gossip columns. You and Max were perfectly suited for each other - but you would never be able to tell him, especially as you didn't have the slightest idea if Max liked you back or even found you attractive since he was so outgoing and touchy with all his close friends. For the past couple of months you'd been secretly pining for him, eyeing his moody girlfriend jealously as she yanked him from celebrations to go home early. You'd starting catching yourself staring up at the gorgeous blonde with heart eyes when he'd patiently explain some new racing tactic to you. No guy could come close to Max in your mind, and you're becoming increasingly sexually frustrated as the object of your desires stayed out of your reach but you aren't hook up with anyone else. So much so that in the week before Las Vegas, you'd started having some very dirty dreams involving a tall, muscular, blonde ending training early and bending you over the hood of his car as he whispered accented Dutch in your ear. Gonna let me fuck you now, baby? You'll take all of my cock, just like I taught you, right?

You knew it was so, so wrong to secretly lust after your friend and teammate like this - especially since he was taken. But tonight, with the thrill of winning your first ever F2 race in frickin' Vegas of all places, at the same time as Max taking his 4th WDC...Well, let's just say you were feeling especially wild tonight. Taking another shot of gin as you got ready in your spacious hotel bathroom, you admire the sight of yourself in the mirror. You're lot more dressed up than usual, out of your racing suit for once . Smokey eyeshadow compliments your wide, doe eyes and long hair you’d blown out in loose curls, all to show off the main view of a tight, sparkly red minidress that pushed up your tits perfectly. You certainly looked the part of a winner out on a hunt for the best way to celebrate tonight, and your best friend agreed as she whistled when walking into the bathroom. Girl, goddamn, that dress looks insanely sexy on you! she gushed, making you shoot her a pleased smile. Trying to catch a certain someone’s attention tonight? she added with a teasing look. Don’t worry, Max won’t be able to keep his eyes off you!

You let out an embarrassed yelp and tell her to shut up, you were not into him like that! Used to your denials, your friend rolls her eyes fondly and tells you you’d been practically moaning his name when you’d been napping earlier, you little slut! She puts you out of your misery when your face goes as red as your dress by adding in that she’d heard his girlfriend wasn’t here tonight to celebrate - apparently, she was pissed he hadn’t flown her out on his private jet and he’d decided to take a break. Winking, she tells you that Max is all yours tonight! You shoo her away but your heart’s nervously skipping a beat with the news. Slipping on your impressive six inch stilettos with glittery straps circling around your legs, you make your way to the after party downstairs.

The bass is thumping, drinks easily flowing and the crowded hotel nightclub buzzing with energy tonight where many of the racing drivers and fans have come to celebrate tonight. You’d meant to go find Max when you got there, but are pulled into excited hugs by lots of your own friends and team members to congratulate you. Soon enough, a few hours have passed and you’re very pleasantly tipsy, giggling and twirling around on the dance floor with your girlfriends and quite a few guys who are running appreciative looks over your pretty figure. But when your wide doe eyes finally meet icy blue across the room, all other men are forgotten and you're making your way over in a heartbeat.

Schatje, Max greets you easily, interrupting the conversations people crowding around him were trying to start. You give him an adoring smile as you wrap your arms around those ridiculously wide shoulders of his when he pulls you into him. The alcohol you’ve both been drinking lowers your boundaries as you giggle into his ears you’ve been looking everywhere for him! He chuckles, telling you that he’d been right here, but you’d been too popular with everyone else tonight. Too busy for me now that you’re a F2 winner? he teases. You playfully push his broad chest, admiring how toned his muscles are under your freshly manicured palm. Maybe, you tease back. I only enjoy the company of drivers who are five time world champions, at least. Seen Lewis anywhere?

Max’s gorgeous blue eyes crinkle in amusement as he tips his head back to laugh, and you're staring up his thick neck, enjoying the sight of his angular jaw and plush lips with a cute freckle you wanted so desperately to kiss. Reminding yourself not to get too carried away until you had some idea how Max felt, you tugged at his biceps to indicate you wanted him to follow you. He easily took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers together as you pull him towards the second floor. This was a pretty frequent for you two, breaking off from a crowded party to yap and gossip about some drama or catch up without all eyes on you. Just as you reach the stairs, one of your team’s engineers calls out to you, giving you a tight embrace that lasts a few seconds too long to be a friendly congratulations. You don’t really notice though, too relaxed and happy, and gush your thank you’s to him as he compliments how well you drove today. He’s pretty cute, and you’re starting to get carried away in the conversation until a warm, large palm curls possessively around your curvy hips. A shiver runs up your spine as Max’s deep voice drawls out behind you that he was bored, can you two go upstairs now?

You immediately turn your focus back onto the attractive blonde, assuring him Of course, Maxie! Your arm wraps around his bicep to steady yourself as you two walk upstairs, your high heels clicking against the marble floor. Your abruptly forgotten engineer receives a rather smug smirk from Max. When you’re finally alone in a tiny powder room, small enough that you have to stand close together with the locked door but well lit by an illuminated mirror atop the counter, Max can’t resist a snarky that engineer seemed very into you.

You dismiss Max’s claims, telling him to stop joking around as you leaned into the mirror to repply your lip gloss. No, he was definitely checking you out, Max responds behind you. His already deep accent you’d always had a thing for turns even huskier. Can’t blame him though…you look fucking incredible tonight.

Desire curls in your gut as you gasp at his unexpected compliment, glancing to see Max’s blue eyes locked onto you through the mirror. The Dutchman’s gaze is sharp despite the tipsy flush on his cheeks as it wanders up your lush thighs, accentuated by your stilettos, over your juicy ass and hips before coming to meet your pretty eyes. There’s no denying the hungry expression he wears, especially as you slowly finish applying your lip gloss, drawing his attention to your tempting pink lips. He looks like a lion starving to sink his fangs into his next meal.

You swallow, suddenly feeling a little shy as you avoid his gaze, even though you'd dolled up tonight just for him. You should be saying something like that to your girlfriend, you say suddenly. Where is she, anyways? Max rolls his eyes at the reminder, unamused with the change of topic. Fuck knows, he says exasperatedly. I don’t care anymore, we’re taking a break. You turn to face him, raising an eyebrow as you coyly ask Just a break? What, she’s trying to find a billionaire because a F1 millionaire just isn’t cutting it?

Max chuckles at your not so subtle dig, knowing how you felt about his rather superficial girlfriend. But instead of letting it go, tonight you decide to continue and ask him why he was still with her? He shrugs, telling you it was just easier at this point to stay with her instead of the drama of a messy breakup, and dating hot but 2D models was what everyone expected of F1 drivers anyway.

You narrow your eyes, a little annoyed now, and step closer to Max to announce that’s stupid, since when did he do what others expect of him instead of what he wanted? Besides, he deserved a girlfriend who actually cared for him as a person, who celebrated each of his wins and losses, and on a night like tonight - well, he should be getting whatever he wanted from her, you added playfully. You’ve ended up so close that Max can feel the warmth of your soft tits pressed up against his chest, the heels you’re wearing helping your height. He can't resist admiring at the way your cleavage bounces every time you passionately speak.

Whatever I want, huh? Max murmurs lowly, his blue eyes dark with desire as he suddenly leans down, making your eyes widen and thick lashes flutter. His thumb softly brushes across your cheeks to press against your lower lip, parting your mouth slightly. He’s silent for a moment, choosing his next words carefully, and then - What if all I want is you?

You gasp, both with excitement and shock at the realisation that Max returned your feelings. A coy smile appears on your lips as you press your hands to his firm chest, leaning up to whisper into his ear that he was lucky, then, because you'd been looking for a way to congratulate him properly.

He grins wickedly as you return his hungry look, your normally sparkling eyes now sultry with desire. Oh yeah? he says lowly, large palms skimming your waist. And what were you thinking would be the proper way to say congratulations?

There’s no going back to friendship after this, the blurred line well and truly vanishing. Thank god, because you couldn’t take the sexual frustration any longer. You’d heard that the sex after winning in Vegas is really good…and since he’d ended up winning the championship, he deserved to fuck you long and hard, right?

Max’s breath hitches at your offer, his already semi erect cock hardening. Fuck, schatje, he breathes, his lips so close to yours they’re almost touching. That mouth of yours…I didn’t know it could be so dirty. Makes me want to ruin it. You smile with faux innocence, batting your lashes up at him. Why don’t you, Max? Ruin me, then.

That’s all it takes for his lips to lock into yours, a gentle first kiss between friends quickly turning into a sloppy, heated make out that has you drooling against him. Been wanting to do this forever, Max groans in between deep kisses. You giggle, asking him what his girlfriend would think of that. Who? Max says, looking genuinely confused as he leans in again to slide his tongue in to explore your mouth. Oh, the ex? You laugh into the kiss, knowing any other woman would be out of the picture by the time you’ve shown Max just how he deserved to be treated tonight.

Suddenly you’re being lifted up easily to sit on the marble counter, squealing at his impressive strength. He greedily presses against you, your lush thighs parting easily around his narrow waist. It’s a good thing the club’s bass is so loud, otherwise any passerbys would hear the wet, sensual moans of you passionately making out. Max’s bear paws of hands squeeze your thighs and plump ass firmly, making your minidress ride up so he could feel your dampening panties as you start grinding against his impressive bulge through his jeans. Fuck, schatje, you’re already this wet? Max breathes, blue eyes blown with desire when he pulls back for a second as you both pant. Only for you, Maxie you say adoringly, running manicured hands along his broad shoulders and into his soft, blonde locks. Whatever you want tonight, remember? So tell me, what would the world champion like next?

Max inhales sharply at your obedient words, at how you’re looking up at his darkened blue eyes with so much devotion. It fills him with an inexplicable need to have you all to himself, not just tonight but every night from now. You decide to give him a gentle nudge, guiding his large palms to cup your full breasts through your dress. You keep looking at my chest, Maxie. Do you want to see what’s underneath my dress? Max’s jaw drops open as you help his fingers tug down your neckline, letting it fall to your waist and leaving you half dressed in a lacy navy blue bra.

My favourite colour, Max says absentmindedly, too distracted with the heavenly vision in front of him. When you giggle and tell him you know, that’s why you wore it! he groans lowly, yanking the lace down so your full breasts lay exposed to his hungry gaze. So fucking pretty, he breathes, you look so good in my colours, schatje.

You can’t respond because you’re moaning again from his thick fingers squeezing your bouncing tits, circling your sensitive, hard nipples before latching his mouth over your areolas. Oh, Maxie! Mmm, feels so good! He hums with your tits inside his talented mouth, enjoying your sweet moans in his ears as he leaves a trail of hickeys over your chest and neck. You’re getting wetter by the second, and judging from the large, hard bulge you’re desperately humping, you’re certain Max is just as turned on as you are. But tonight’s about congratulating him, and you can’t get too distracted, tugging at the white t-shirt he’s wearing. Your turn!

Max smirks, and yanks his shirt off in half a second. Now you’re temporarily short circuiting at his broad pecs, ogling his thick upper arms and shoulders that taper down to his slim hips. You can’t resist tracing a path down his defined abs with your manicured fingers, making Max tease you with like what you see, schatje?

You shut him up as your hand comes to rest just above his belt buckle, brushing his blonde happy trail but going no further. Hmm, I’ve seen better, you tease back coyly. His jaw hardens as you come tantalisingly close to where he really wants to feel you. When he wraps his hand around yours to stop your games, you surprise him again when you bring your joined hands up to your lips. Curiosity piqued, he watched you intently as you press the pad of his pointer finger onto your swollen lips like he’d done earlier…and then part your lips to slide him inside till the knuckle. Oh, fucking hell, Max hisses lowly.

You don’t miss a beat, staring right into his eyes sultrily as you swirl your tongue around his thick finger, letting him imagine what else your drooling, wet mouth could do. He swallows when you release him with a pop, only to oh so innocently bat your lashes at him to say did he have anything bigger for you to lick?

Max has a hand tangled in your curls instantly, pushing your all too willing body down onto your knees as he swears, saying if he’d known you were going to be such a good girl for him he’d have fucked you months ago. You whine desperately, making him completely entranced as you press soft kisses to his clothed erection. He unbuckles himself for you, the small room silent except for the clinking of metal making both of you impatient. You gasp when his generously sized cock emerges from his Calvin Klein boxers, his pink tip resting right in front of you. He almost cums right there when you look up at him with those wide doe eyes, the very picture of innocence but your filthy words anything but. It-it’s so big, Maxie. Even larger than what I’d dreamed about.

And then you’re messily kissing up and down his engorged shaft, smearing your lipgloss all over as you pant and drool over his length. Oh my fucking god, Max groans, head slamming into the door behind him. That mouth of yours, baby- Jesus fucking Christ.

He’s rendereded speechless when you begin suckling on his hypersensitive tip, circling it with full concentration just like you’d done with his finger. You don’t break eye contact, pulling back slightly to pump his base with two hands and blow air over his angry, swollen cockhead. Tastes so good, Maxie. ‘M gonna worship your cock tonight, just like my world champion deserves. Your throat goes completely lax as you take his impressive length all the way to the base, gurgling and drooling messily as you hollow your cheeks to suck firmly.

Fuck! Jesus, schat, baby, I’m gonna - Max is panting heavily, cheeks adorably red and flushed as he tangles his large palms into your curls. Go-gonna fuck that insane mouth of yours now, okay?

You hum in agreement, sending vibrations running down his shaft. He doesn’t waste any time then, dragging your face forward and roughly thrusting himself into your wet, slack mouth. Loud, obscene sounds of the dirty blowjob you’re performing for him are filling the air, and there’s no doubt anyone listening in the hallway would be able to tell exactly what going on behind the door. But the both of you couldn’t care less, too far gone. And if your mindblowing deepthroat hadn’t been enough, you’re whimpering in between thrusts that he’s so big, you bet he could fuck your tits at the same time as your mouth-

He doesn’t even need to process that sexy mental image because you’re now using your free hands to cup your bouncing breasts and wrap them snugly around the base of his cock, his leaking tip still thrusting in and out of your mouth. Like this, see Maxie?

Max roars in approval at the filthy display, the warmth of your soft tits sending him over the edge. Gonna cum now, he pants breathlessly. Open your mouth for me, baby, you’ll swallow it all, right?

You follow his command immediately, desperately saying please, please Maxie, wanna taste you so bad, you can cum wherever you want-

He slaps his heavy cockhead against your chubby cheeks first, and then onto your pink tongue as you poke it out, collecting drops of precum from his angry red tip. He’s meanly chuckling as you go cross eyed from his cock whacking your face, squealing with excitement. Guess the only thing that shuts you up is my cock in your mouth.

You nod eagerly, panting with your lips wide open expectantly as you stare up at him, your pretty makeup completely destroyed from the messy blowjob. The sight of you so desperate for him is what tips him over, and with a silent moan he jerks himself off to flood your mouth with a generous, creamy load. So much that you struggle to swallow it, some of it leaking out the corners of your lips to drip onto your heaving tits. But you take most of it just like you promised him, licking your lips rather sluttily before opening your mouth to show him. See, Maxie? Drank it all for you.

He yanks you up off the floor, pressing your soft jiggling chest up against his hard pecs as he rewards you with a deep kiss. Did fucking amazing, sweetheart, he sighs into you. That was definitely the best head I’ve ever gotten. You flush from his compliment, sultry eyes turning shy now from his praise. But the Dutch Lion’s appetite isn’t satiated tonight. He pulls your dress back up, wiping away your smeared gloss and smudged mascara before redressing himself. But we aren’t finished just yet, schatje, he croons as he gently untangles your curls from your dangly earrings. You bite your lip, hanging onto his each word as he says After all, you’d won in Vegas too. He’ll have to show you how good the sex is, now.

Desire darkens your bright, dazed eyes at the thought of Max finally fucking you. You bury your face in his thick neck, wrapping your arms around him as you plead for him to please take you upstairs, you needed him so bad, you couldn’t take it anymore.

He chuckles at your cute begging, discreetly leading you down the hallway that’s thankfully empty while keeping you firmly pressed to his chest. As much as he’d wiped away the streaks of mascara, any of your friends would only have to take one look to know what you’d been upto. The ride up the discreet service elevator is another test of self restraint, the camera in the corner stopping the both of you from outright debauchery. But you can’t stop weakly grinding against Max’s muscular thigh that separates your plush legs, clinging onto him as he whispers dirty things in your ear with that Dutch voice you loved. Tell me what kind of naughty dreams you’ve been having about me, he demands. And of course, you oblige, turning his ears pink and voice huskier when he finds out just what you’d been secretly pining for.

He lifts you up, your legs straddling his waist easily when you finally reach your floor, an carried you down the hallway. After you’re clumsily swiping your room card with Max’s very distracting lips leaving kisses to your throat, you find yourself inside your dark hotel room at last. The Vegas city lights stream in from the floor to ceiling windows, illuminating Max’s handsome form as he looks down to drink in the pretty sight of you. Fucking finally, Max groans, ripping his shirt and pants off in one go and kicking his shoes to the side. He wraps an arm around your waist to pick you up again and gently toss you onto the king sized bed, making you giggle excitedly as you land with a bounce. And then he’s on top of you, eyes dark and a cocky smirk on his face as he presses his warm length against your soaked panties. See what you’ve done to me, schatje? I’m already hard again. Completely ruined me for anyone else with this perfect body. He finishes his sentence with a slow roll of his hips, making you moan breathily at the contact, with your panties so wet they’re practically stuck to you and you can feel all of him.

He unzips you out of your dress, leaving heated kisses all over your body as he admires the sight of your navy lingerie set, telling you he’d buy you ten more so you could wear them for him after every race when he fucked you. You keen at his attention, at the thought that Max wants you again and again, eyes teary as you start to try and grind your hips against him. You’ll have to be patient, schatje Max says in an amused tone, sounding much more in control than the moaning, dripping mess he’s turned you into. You teased me so much after all, it’s only fair that it’s my turn now, right? He kisses your ankles softly as he unties your strappy heels, letting them fall to the floor. And then, with a strong hand on each of your delicate ankles, he hungrily takes in the sight of your dripping pussy. Your tummy flutters almost nervously in anticipation of what’s coming.

Turns out Max, just like you, always held true to his promises. You’d had to be very patient as he had his turn of teasing you mercilessly, making you cum all over his thick fingers that stretched you out and skilled tongue that found your sensitive clit almost immediately. And when he’s finally ripping the condom packet open and slapping your core with his heavy cock, you’re practically crying.Your aching pussy finally gets what she needs when you’re stuffed impossibly full as he slides in to the hilt.

The sight of you completely ruined underneath him, tits bouncing with each powerful thrust he delivers, your nails burying into his strong arms to steady yourself, unlocks a carnal desire in Max. Whatever I want, right schatje? He hums, bending down so your sweaty foreheads touch, and you nod quickly through your deep pants. Even if I wanted to fuck you raw? You’ll let me cum inside your tight little pussy, hmm?

He knows he has you right where he wants as you squeeze down on him instinctively when you imagine him inside you with no protection. Ohmygod Maxie, yes, please, fuck your cum into me, please! The Dutchman’s outright filthy request has your head spinning with desire and you’re babbling half incoherently. Pulling out momentarily and making you whine, he yanks the condom off before sinking back into your creamy hole. You both moan in pure ecstasy at the euphoric feeling of skin to skin sex.

Max fucks you in multiple positions that night, passionately into the soft mattress, meanly up against the cold window, and roughly on the plush sofa chaise with your face buried in the cushions and your red asscheeks up in the air for him to slap. Next time I win you’ll let me fuck you here, too, okay baby? he demands as he fingers your winking back hole while still thrusting into your dripping cunny. You can only let out a high pitched whine, jiggling your hips back onto his cock in approval, too fucked out to respond with words at this point. And when he finally cums, his impressive stamina outlasting yours on his second orgasm, he makes sure to sink in deep and flood your heavenly walls with his thick white release. You give him an open mouthed lazy kiss as a silent thank you for the best fuck of your entire life, hoping he got the message.

You’re pretty certain he did, because the next morning you’re awoken by a heavy length pressed up against your ass. You’d both passed out in the (thankfully clean) spare second bed after running through the shower together for five minutes to clean up the sticky mess last night. The 4th championship celebration sex was definitely record breaking , Max murmurs into your ear playfully. But it’s not complete without the slow morning after sex. You’ll let me show you now, right schat?

_____________________________________________

A/N: WAR IS OVER THE CHILDREN ARE OUT, BIRDS SINGING CAUSE MAX IS RIGHTFULLY 4 X WDC 😭😭😭 the way all the haters were silenced. Everyone’s trying ride his dick now including skysports I love to see it, as they should

Also guys 10 followers away from 2k?!? Wtaf 😳 I’m so sorry for the delayed post, thank you for being so patient. Work has been really busy this month but going on Xmas break in a couple weeks so will have more time to post!!!! Keep sending me ur saucy asks yall I love reading them <3

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #max verstappen x you #f1 driver reader #max verstappen x oc #18+ mdni #formula 1 #smut #mv1

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no-144444 · 7 months ago

Text

mixup- o.piastri

summary: oscar gets a bit jelly when you and franco get close

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! reader

a/n: for the person on my last post who wanted the photo of mark webber with his grippers out (just put the fries in the bag) here is two!

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When Oscar saw you for the first time, he was slightly stunned into silence. He knew who you were, everyone in McLaren did. You were one of the board member’s daughters, and you knew everyone. You were friends with everyone, you knew every driver on the grid, everyone. Except Oscar. He’d somehow side stepped your friendship despite you knowing every other driver on the F1 grid, F2 grid, and F3 grid.

Anyway, he was in love with you, and that’s all that mattered. You befriended him in his first year, but you’d only been around sporadically in the 2024 season, and when you were there, all of your time was spent catching up with all the other drivers, and Oscar could only steal so much of your time. That didn’t mean that you two didn’t text though. You and him had months and months of ‘friendly’ texts, and on more than one occasion he’d almost be driven to send the dreaded ‘what are we?’ text, but thankfully, Logan usually stopped him.

He did not like the way you were talking with Franco and had been for a while. He was touching your arm, you were laughing at something he said, and Oscar couldn’t control the frown on his face.

“Jesus christ mate, he’s actually going to get hurt if you don’t stop staring daggers at him,” Lando joked.

“I’m not,” Oscar huffed, getting on with eating his lunch.

“Have you asked her out yet?” Lando asked, and Oscar just… avoided eye contact. “Come on mate! She’s never going to say yes to you if you don’t actually ask her!”

“Well, she’s also never going to say no, if I don’t ask her,” Oscar pointed out, purposefully waving a piece of salmon much too close for Lando’s comfort.

Lando pushed his fork back. “She’s not going to say no!”

“Hey Y/n!” Zak called, sitting at the table next to them.

“Hey Zak,” you smiled. It was an easy, gentle smile, the kind that drove Oscar crazy.

“Where have you been all day?” he mused, an eyebrow raised as he looked between you and Franco, who was slowly walking abc to Williams.

“I was with Franco, actually,” you explained. “I told him I’d never been at the circuit before so he gave me a tour of the entire paddock, and of Williams. I met all of his mechanics and all, it was great!”

He chuckled. “So when’s the wedding?”

You scoffed. “It’s not like that, well… it kind of is. We’re apparently going on a date so, we shall see!” you admitted, a nervous smile on your lips.

Oscar and Lando locked eyes. Oscar’s were full of shock and panic, whereas Lando’s were full of amusement.

“Y/n!” Lando called, alerting half the canteen. “I thought you were with Oscar?”

Oscar had one thought:

Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop. Please stop.

But he didn’t. Oscar buried his face in his hands as Lando stood there, digging him a deeper hole. He would’ve rather just lived out his friend-zoned life and still be your friend, but with the way Lando was rambling on, he would be lucky fi there wasn’t a fucking restraining order.

“And like… all the texts and stuff! I thought you two were hitting it off, they seemed pretty flirty to me! And I’m an expert on that type of thing. And he’s like… in love with you or whatever, and you like him too! Isn’t he pretty! You told me he was pretty once when you were drunk, don’t deny that!”

You stood there with an amused smile on your lips. “I think if Oscar was actually in love with me, he would’ve made a move by now,” you chuckled before walking off, but not before ruffling Oscar’s hair. Oscar was bright red. Bright red. Once you were out of ear-shot, the entire canteen was laughing at the situation. Mark clapped a hand on his back.

“That went over about as well as a dead horse,” he chuckled. Oscar shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“I’m fucked,” he sighed. “I fucked it up. She’s going out with Franco.”

Mark shook his head. “Not if you confess now.”

Oscar stared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Mark rolled his eyes. “The girl is mad about you!” Oscar groaned but Mark shushed him. “Seriously! She adores you. You just need to ask her out! Fuck Franco, he’s a newbie, you’ve been his friend for 2 years now, and Lando isn’t wrong, those texts are flirty!”

Oscar looked at Mark, unimpressed, but then turned to Lando (who had a very big smile on his face, awaiting a ‘thank you’) with a scowl. He got up and brought his lunch with him. “Neither of you are helpful!”

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Somehow, he ended up in your hotel room at the end of the night, his lips on yours. He hadn’t told anyone about this. Whatever it was, he wanted it to be his and yours only. No teasing comments from Lando, no ‘advice’ from Mark. It had started a few months ago, one drunken night that led to too much, but neither of you stopped. Neither of you were drunk the second time it happened, and since then you’d been hooking up every now and then, just to relieve stress.

“Osc,” you mumbled against his lips. He smiled. You'd been making out for about 40 minutes, and the nights either ended with mind blowing sex (with the girl he was in love with), or a movie and sleeping in your bed. Win-win either way. You straddled him against the headframe, his shirt already off and you in your bra and sleep shorts, he was kind of hoping for the first one.

“Hm?” he muttered, never pulling away. Having his hands on you, your hands on him, it felt good.

You pulled back with a nervous expression, and he stilled. Had he done something to upset you? Had he gone too far?

“You weren’t upset today,” you stated.

He stared at you, slightly confused. “Yes?”

You frowned. “You really don’t actually like me, do you?” you chuckled, but it wasn’t a real chuckle. It was too sad to be your chuckle, and the way you pushed yourself off his lap and held your legs to your chest.

He panicked. How was he supposed to explain the 2 years of yearning he’d partaken in? “I’m in love with you,” he blurted out, and your eyes widened, so he just buried his face in his hands again. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean-”

You laughed. Your real, gorgeous laugh. “I love you too.”

He ripped his hands away from his face. “But Franco-?”

“I was trying to make you jealous!” you scoffed. He rolled his eyes.

“Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

“Why didn't you just talk to me?!” you accused, and you both just started laughing at how stupid you both were.

“Come here,” he told you. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he pressed soft kisses to your neck. “I’m really fucking glad you tried to make me jealous today.”

“Did it work?” you giggled.

“Very much so,” he admitted, biting into the side of your neck hard enough to make you let out a squeak, which made you both laugh.

You turned to him, running a hand through his unruly hair. You pressed your lips to his.

“I love you,” he confessed (again). You smiled.

“I love you too.”

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

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lazysoulwriter · 9 days ago

Text

molar mayhem. - pedro pascal. ── .✦

content: fluff, post-surgery chaos, suggestive jokes, soft!pedro energy, lots of care.

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Pedro was drooling. Not dramatically, but enough for you to feel both endeared and wildly amused.

You were seated in the recovery room, watching him slowly come back to the world after getting all four of his wisdom teeth removed. He looked like a dazed chipmunk, cheeks puffed out with gauze, eyes struggling to focus on anything for more than two seconds.

“‘M I dead?” he mumbled, lips too numb to form proper consonants.

You leaned in closer, biting back a laugh. “No, baby. You survived.”

Pedro blinked at you. Long. Slow. Then smiled like a drunk idiot. “You’re pretty.”

“I know,” you teased, brushing a hand through his curls, still slightly damp with surgical cap sweat. “And you look like you got in a bar fight with cotton balls.”

He squinted. “Did I win?”

“Oh yeah,” you whispered dramatically. “But at what cost?”

He tilted his head back against the pillow, looking at the ceiling. “I think I’m in love with you.”

“You already are.”

“No, like... really. You took me to get my teef out.” He tried to point at his mouth and whacked himself in the cheek. “Ouch.”

You caught his hand before he could do more damage. “Pedro, please don’t punch yourself trying to be poetic.”

He smiled at you again, hazy and slow, and whispered, “I’d let you sit on my face even like this.”

Your eyes widened. “Pedro!”

“What?” He was completely unfazed. “There’s a lot of room now.” He opened his mouth to show you the gap.

You covered your face, laughing. “You are so high right now.”

“You love it.”

“I do. Unfortunately.”

He pouted, cheeks puffed out even more with gauze, which only made him look cuter and more ridiculous. “Will you feed me pudding later?”

“Only if you behave.”

Pedro reached out, grabbing your hand like a baby koala. “I’ll be the best boy. Just for you.”

You shook your head. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’m sexy,” he corrected, or tried to. It came out more like “I’b thexthy.”

You leaned down to kiss his forehead, your lips brushing against his warm skin. “Sure, casanova.”

Once you got him home, the chaos truly began. He tried to help you take off his shoes and nearly face-planted. Then insisted on brushing his own teeth—until you had to confiscate the toothbrush because he kept making stabbing motions near his stitches.

Eventually, you tucked him into bed, changed him into a hoodie and sweatpants like he was a ragdoll, and placed a towel under his chin just in case.

“‘M I dying now?” he asked again, eyes wide and dramatic.

“You’re not dying. You just had teeth pulled, not heart surgery.”

“But I feel fragile.”

You gave in and crawled into bed beside him. “I’ll protect you.”

He sighed happily, tucking his face into your neck. “Marry me.”

“Pedro, you’re on meds.”

“So?”

You giggled, playing with his hair. “You’ll feel very differently tomorrow when you’re drooling blood.”

He pulled back, attempting to give you a serious look despite the chipmunk cheeks. “I’m gonna remember this. And I will propose. But not while I’m numb. I wanna be able to kiss you after.”

You blinked, stunned into silence for a second.

And then he added, “Also I wanna eat you out as part of the proposal but that’s beside the point.”

“Pedro!”

“Romance, baby.”

You flopped onto the pillow next to him, both of you wheezing with laughter. You didn’t know whether to cry or record him, but the moment was perfect either way.

He sighed, nuzzling into you again. “You’re gonna take such good care of me, huh?”

“I already am.”

“You want a gold star?”

“No,” you whispered, kissing the tip of his nose. “Just a nap. And maybe pudding.”

“I knew you loved pudding too.”

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✦ please do not copy, repost, or translate this work. © lazysoulwriter // i write with a lot of love and care, so please respect that.

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taglist: @sarahhxx03 @lloydmustache @lolareadsimagines @greenwitchfromthewoods @silksepia @pascalswiftie @itstokyo-cos @mani-pedro @llsister @authorbriannarae13 @introvrtedjellyfish @aj0elap0l0gist @spencercmlover @cixrosie @cherrqbaby @cup-half-full-of-anxiety @joelmillerpascal @freakbobcult @sunlightpleasure@barnes70stark @mooniscrying @ohnaurshayla @croissantbakerylws @nellispunk @kasienka @taylorswiftsrep-blog @emerencedaily @byzyz @noovaarq @kristend512 @alltounwell @libbyaller @beaagiannelli @broad-shouldrs @oceanmcu @kysosa @melloispunk @jollycupcakeblizzard @angvlicsoulll @needz1nk @daddypascal17 @agustdpeach @mrsbilicablog @k4t13ispunk @hotdadlvr95 @lnnysnts @pedropascalfan221 @queenofklonnie22 @christinamadsen @ilovecheriies @stvr-bloom

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manmuncher777 · 30 days ago

Note

Hear me out. Best friend geto slapping our ass as a joke but then we moan. What he gonna do >.<

Hope you enjoy love, sorry it took me so long to get this posted ❤️

CHEEKY

Suguru Geto x reader smut MDNI 18+

It started with a bottle of cheap red and an old stack of board games neither of you had touched in years.

The night came after an idea you had, bored of sitting there watching tv, you wanted proper entertainment. Best way to get that was to play games with your friend, right?

Suguru’s apartment was dimly lit, all warm amber and shadows, the soft hum of low music filtering in from the speakers as you both sat cross-legged on his rug, laughing over another disastrous round of Guess Who? He looked good—annoyingly good for a night in. Black joggers slung low on his hips, loose dark tee stretched across broad shoulders, and the sleeves were pushed up just enough to show the sharp, inked patterns that climbed his forearms.

You were on your second glass—maybe third, honestly—sipping slowly, cheeks flushed more from the wine than the game.

“I swear, you just pick people with hats every single time,” you said, squinting at him over your board. “You’re not even trying to be subtle.”

Suguru grinned, that slow, dangerous one that made his eyes narrow just a little. “And you fall for it every single time, babe. That’s the fun part.”

You stuck out your tongue at him, leaning forward to reset the game pieces. “I’m gonna win next round. Watch.”

He gave a lazy shrug, swirling his own wine in his glass like this was some fancy dinner party and not the two of you drunk in sweatpants surrounded by board game chaos. “Sure, sure. Talk your shit now.”

You flicked a stray token at him, and he caught it effortlessly, smirking. His reflexes were unfair, even tipsy. “God, you’re so smug,” you muttered.

He leaned back onto his hands, long legs stretching out, one brushing against yours like it was nothing. “You love it.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move your leg.

Time passed in slow, comfortable waves. You laughed until your stomach hurt, argued over game rules, whined when he kept winning. Suguru refilled your glass without you asking. At some point, the game pieces got abandoned in favor of a cozy sprawl on the couch—legs tangled, your head near his shoulder, the bottle of wine now living on the coffee table in front of you.

“You’re warm,” you mumbled.

“You’re drunk,” he said back, amused.

You looked up at him, eyelids heavy. “I’m not drunk. I’m wine-soft. There’s a difference.”

Suguru snorted, but the sound was fond. “Sure there is.”

Silence settled. Not awkward. Just… full. His fingers drummed lightly on the couch cushion, close to your hip. The music changed. Something slower. A bit moodier. Your chest rose and fell steadily, your legs shifting—just a little—until they were tucked under his.

“Hey,” you murmured. “You ever think about how long we’ve been friends?”

Suguru tilted his head to look down at you. “You getting sentimental on me?”

“Maybe,” you whispered. “Or maybe I’m just realizing how nice this is.”

He didn’t answer right away. Just gave a slow nod, eyes flickering over your face. “Yeah,” he said eventually. “It is.”

You watched his mouth move as he said it—slow, deliberate, soft around the edges. And maybe it was the wine, or the way his voice sounded so close, but something fluttered low in your stomach. You looked away.

The warmth between you wasn’t so innocent now.

The wine had gone straight to your head.

You can feel your face flushing under his gaze in that moment, unsure of the feeling that was building in your gut. A familaiar feeling, but never around Suguru. These thought… were anything but normal about him. Your clear your throat lightly, raising your head from his shoulder and pushing on the sofa.

“Another game, the nights not over yet.” You state, walking off to find something else before he could even answer. All you hear is a little chuckle as you walk away.

Your skin prickles with heat as you try to focus on picking a game, but it seems your mind had other plans. A foggy sensation clouding over you as you reminisce over the sound of Suguru’s voice… the way he was looking at you.

Your hands snatched up some random pack of cards, not even bothering to look at the pack to see what game you selected. Shaking your head lightly, as if trying to force yourself to snap out of it.

“You’re cheating,” you accused, eyebrows drawn together as you narrowed your eyes at Suguru over the fan of cards in your hand.

“I’m literally not,” he said, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth said otherwise. “You’re just losing.”

“Because you’re cheating.”

“You always get like this when you’re losing. You gonna throw a tantrum next?”

You scoffed, slouching back against the cushions. “You wish.”

He leaned in, elbow on his knee, wine glass in one hand. “I do, actually. Little bratty tantrum, just for me.” His voice dropped a note, the teasing curling thick around the edges.

Your stomach flipped. You looked at him, jaw slightly slack—just enough for him to catch the way your breath hitched. And that was not lost on him.

Suguru’s grin widened.

“Oh, don’t go quiet now,” he cooed. “You were mouthing off a second ago.”

Your were short circuiting, your mind drawing blanks. The previous fog you had tried to shake off earlier coming straight back now. It like he was now aware of what he was doing. Bringing your back to that state of hazy warmth.

You rolled your eyes, even though your skin was prickling all over. “I just don’t think it’s fair that you keep pulling the exact cards you need. It’s suspicious.”

“Maybe I’m just better at this than you.”

“You’re not better at everything.”

“Oh?” He set his glass down. “Wanna test that theory?”

You paused—just a second too long.

His eyes gleamed.

You shifted your legs beneath you, suddenly very aware of how close he was. Your knee brushed his thigh and didn’t move. “Maybe I will,” you muttered, voice thin with challenge.

Suguru made a sound low in his throat. Not quite a laugh. Something darker. “You keep teasing me, baby,” he said, voice velvet and warning. “Sure you’re ready for what happens next?”

Your eyes locked. That slow, heavy silence crept in again. The kind where your heart starts pounding a little too loud in your ears. His legs were spread, and you were half-curled into the corner of the couch, shoulders turned toward him—like you were already giving in.

You let your gaze flicker down to the dark lines of ink on his forearms, the sharpness of his jaw when he tipped his head, and then—up. Back to his eyes. He looked dangerous. And so fucking calm.

“Don’t go shy now,” he murmured. “Was that a challenge, sweetheart?”

Your tongue darted out to wet your lips. “I just think you talk a big game.”

He leaned in—slow, smooth. “Oh, baby,” he whispered, “If you wanted me to show you, all you had to do was ask.”

You can feel your resolve slipping second by second, unsure of how to feel. I mean he was your best friend, surely his words shouldn’T be bringing such a reaction out of you

Trying your best not to succumb you force yourself to speak “not sure I trust a cheater.”

“Just admit I won that round,” Suguru drawled, stretching his arms out behind him, the cards scattered across the coffee table like fallen leaves.

You snorted. “Please. You only won because I let you.”

“Right,” he said, laughing under his breath. “Because you’re so good at this.”

“I am,” you said, grinning as you leaned forward to grab another sip of wine. Your arm brushed his again—deliberately this time. “You should be thanking me.”

Suguru raised a brow, eyes flicking down to where your thigh pressed against his. “You’re asking for it.”

“I’m literally not.”

He tilted his head. “You sure? ‘Cause your tone says otherwise.”

You smirked, sharp and bratty. “What’re you gonna do about it?”

His smile spread slow and lazy across his face, dimples sinking deep. “Don’t make me put you over my knee, sweets. Only one way to deal with brats.”

You blinked.

The air went still. Your lips parted a little—like you were ready with a comeback, but nothing came. He watched the blush creep up your throat like a tide. And still, he just looked at you, patient and cocky, like he knew you were caught

Then you snorted, flicking a card at him. “You wouldn’t dare.”

That was it.

In a blink, the couch dipped. Suguru shifted toward you fast and smooth, grabbing your wrist and tugging you effortlessly across his lap. A yelp burst out of your mouth as you landed with a thud, facedown across his thick thighs, your ass up—and Suguru’s big palm already resting on it.

“Suguru—!”

“Uh uh,” he said, squeezing. “You wanted to act up, baby? Then take your consequences like a big girl.”

You squirmed, kicking your feet as he held you there with one arm locked around your waist. “I was joking—”

“Too late for that now,” he said, right before he brought his hand down—hard.

The slap cracked through the room, and you let out a strangled moan, more shocked than hurt—but your hips jerked forward like you’d felt it. He did it again, slower this time, letting his fingers linger after.

Red coated your cheeks, shocked not only at his actions, but at the noise you let out. It seems he was equally shocked at your reaction, silence washing over both of you for a moment.

“Oh? What was that baby?” A dark chuckle sounded from above you. “You liked that?”

You couldn’t form an answer, frozen in place. Mind whirling with so many thoughts.

“That’s one,” he murmured. “Now, how many do you think you earned, huh?”

“None,” you panted, trying not to squirm too much. But your voice was wobbling.

“Oh, you really wanna test me now?”

Another spank. Another jolt through your body. Your panties were suddenly way too damp, and Suguru had to feel the way your hips were subtly rolling into his thigh, chasing friction without even realizing.

“Still got that smart mouth?” he asked, low and teasing, running a palm over the heated curve of your ass. “Or you ready to start saying thank you?”

You whimpered.

He chuckled—slow, warm, filthy. “That’s what I thought.”

His palm stayed resting on your ass, warm and heavy, fingers gently kneading the sting he left behind. The wine had your head floating, but it was him—the low hum of his voice, the way he manhandled you so easily—that was making your stomach flip and your thighs clench.

“You’re awful quiet now, sweetheart,” Suguru murmured above you, voice dark and syrup-slick. “What happened to all that mouth?”

You breathed in sharp, nails gripping at the edge of the couch cushion. “M’not quiet…”

“No?” he smirked, dragging his hand down the curve of your thigh, then sliding up between them—until his fingers brushed the thin fabric of your panties, already soaked. “Then tell me what this is, huh?”

A small whine slipped from your lips before you could stop it. His fingers ghosted over the damp spot again, slow and deliberate.

“Fuck,” Suguru laughed softly, leaning down so his breath kissed the back of your ear. “You’re dripping, baby. Just from a few spanks? I didn’t even have to touch you properly yet.”

You squirmed in his lap, pressing your hips down without meaning to. He just tsked, slipping one thick finger beneath the edge of your panties, finding your folds and running it through the slick mess.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, like it physically pained him. “You want me that bad already?”

“Mmm… Suguru…”

The room around your disappearing with each tough, feeling him everywhere. Feeling nothing but him in that moment.

He cant help but groan at how wet your are, his thick digits dragging through your folds, featherlight and teasing. Just watching as you squirm beneath him. Finally behaving just like he knew you could.

He hummed, cocky and unhurried, dipping one finger into you with teasing laziness. “You always get like this when you’re drunk? Or is it just me?”

You couldn’t answer—only arched, chasing more, lips parted in helpless gasps. He curled the finger, watching the way your whole body jolted.

“Thought so,” he purred. “Bet no one’s ever made you feel like this, huh?”

His voice dripped with ego, thick with pleasure at the way you writhed for him—whining, panting, your thighs shaking and your arms barely holding you up.

His finger dipping in and out, pushing deeper and deeper with each relaxed thrust of his hand, feeling your walls flutter around him so eagerly. Your velvety walls begging him not to leave

“Look at you,” he crooned, slipping in a second finger, pressing deep, slow, steady. “So fuckin’ pretty like this. All wet and dumb on my lap. My perfect little mess.”

You sobbed out a moan, legs trembling as he angled his fingers just right—grinding that soft, spongy spot inside you with precision. Suguru groaned at the way you tightened around him.

Pressing his palm into you, bumping against your clit while you do your best to grind down on him. Hips chasing your ever nearing high. Swallowing his fingers over and over again so greedily.

“Yeah, there it is,” he whispered, nuzzling into your shoulder as he fucked his fingers into you. “You gonna cum just like this, baby? Like a good girl for me?”

You nodded, frantic. Your whole body shook with need, overwhelmed, hazy from the wine and the heat and him.

He kept going, murmuring in your ear, “I know baby, I know.” Sultry voice flowing through your foggy brain, bringing you closer and closer to that edge “let go for me”

Unable to deny the feeling any longer, you cum. Legs quivering as he worked you open on his fingers, not stopping as your hips bucked beneath him. Whispering sweet nothings over the cry of his name. His fingers pressing deeply inside of you, like you would never forget the feeling, your walls squeezing him with every wave of pleasure that flowed over you. Eyes screwing shut as you rode out your high

Your thighs were still shaking when he pulled his fingers out, glistening with your slick. He let you hear the obscene sound as he sucked them clean, eyes heavy-lidded and wild.

“You taste so fucking good,” he rasped, voice low and wrecked. “Still think im a cheater?”

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kissandtellus · 1 month ago

Text

Smart Enough

Synopsis: Dr. Zayne has an incredible mind, incredible physique and an incredible stamina. Having a pretty thing on his arm at all times is just a perk.

Warnings: Dumbification, Zayne is a Hard!Dom, size-difference, choking, filming, not for everyone, Y/n is sort of a crybaby, drooling.

As your fiancé, Zayne is a handsome doctor with an impressive physique, especially when it’s hidden under that white lab quote. He's tall, muscular, and you can't help but obsess over how much bigger he is than you. “Y/n, stop trying to get me to flex for pictures."

The way he says it is so cold. He’s relaxing, for once, in his home office chair. He just finished a workout, he tried to never miss a day no matter how tired he was from work. Y/n pouts, sitting on the edge of his desk. “Pleaseeee? I always like showing you off.”

Zayne looks up from his laptop, those piercing blue eyes meeting yours with a mix of exasperation and amusement. “And I always tell you I'm not here for your'showing off'. It's not professional." Despite his serious tone, there's a small smirk playing at his lips.

But behind closed doors, with the night casts a shadow over them, he changes. Your phone is propped on a tripod, angled just enough to show your cock drunk expression. His arm is around your throat, the muscle squishing your face as he drills you from behind.

The room is filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the rhythmic slapping of skin against skin. Zayne's grip around your throat tightens slightly, his voice low and husky in your ear. “See, this is what you want. Not some fucking Instagram post."

Zayne slows his thrusts, his hand sliding down to grasp your chin, forcing you to look at the screen. Your face is a mess of pleasure, his arm a thick band around your neck. He snaps a picture, the flash momentarily blinding you. “Perfect."

Your drooling, pupils dilated from the ecstacy. “S-so meannn Zay-!”

He chuckles darkly, his thumb wiping away the drool from your chin before bringing it to his own lips, sucking it clean. “You love it when I'm mean to you, don't you?" His hips snap forward, bottoming out inside you as his arm squeezes your throat.

You don’t want to admit it. Zayne is the smartest man you’ve ever met, maybe in the entire world. Knocking yourself down a peg is something that gives you a deep satisfaction. “N-Nu uh!”

Zayne throws his head back with a laugh.

God, you're cute.

He pulls out slightly, then snaps his hips hard. "You know what your problem is?" He growls, slapping your ass hard enough to leave a red mark. "You have no self respect. No filter."

You are whimpering as he releases your throat from his arms, instead he tangles his surgeon steady fingers into her your, pulling your head back so you are staring in the camera.

His fingers tighten in your hair, making you whimper. The camera captures your disheveled look - your mouth open, eyes half-lidded and slightly glassy, cheeks red. "Look at you," Zayne mutters, taking another picture. "No brain. No filter."

“I-I’m smart!” You sound like you are trying to convince yourself more than your surgeon fiancé

Zayne laughs again, his thumb spreading your drool over your chin. "Mhmm. And how many degrees do you have?" He asks mockingly, his hips moving slow and deep. "One?" He smirks. "Two?" He pulls back slightly, waiting for your answer.

You choke back a sob when his cock curved just right into your drooling walls. “N-none…”

Zayne's smirk grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and dominance. "Exactly," he says, his voice low and mocking. "And how many do I have?" He thrusts harder, emphasizing each word. "Four. Fucking. Degrees."

Zayne was a fucking child-prodigy of medical knowledge. But you, you were his pretty little Hunter that looked perfect on his cock.

His smirk softens slightly. "God, you're an airhead," He mutters, snapping another picture of your disheveled, half-crazed look. "One hundred fifty published papers. Surgeon at twenty seven. And you?" He laughs, his thumb pushing into your mouth.

"You're cute. Absolutely adorable. And so fucking stupid." His thrusts pick up speed, hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes you drool even more. He captures another photo, then pulls your hair harder.* "You know what else you are?"

You are so far gone, if your life ended right that second, you wouldn’t give a single shit.

“The love of my life.” He bends your head back and captures your mouth in a heated kiss. His cock twitches inside of you, and he cums.

He breaks the kiss, panting as he fills you up with his release. He holds the camera up, taking a picture of you all - him looking intense and satisfied, you looking absolutely wrecked and filled with his cum. He sets the camera down and gently pulls out of you.

You whimper, coming down from a very deep sub space. You’re shivering, sniffling and trying to wipe your tears away.

He watches you for a moment, a soft smile on his face. "Hey, come here," he says gently, pulling you into his lap and wrapping his arms around you. He brushes your hair out of your face and kisses your forehead. "You did so well, baby."

You immediately seeks his comfort, burying your face in his shoulder. His skin is sometimes cold to the touch, but there is no place you’d rather be. “D-did I do good?”

He nods, his arms tightening around you. "You did amazing," he murmurs, nuzzling into your hair. "I'm so proud of you. My pretty little Hunter, so obedient and perfect." He rocks you gently, his cold hands rubbing up and down your back to warm you up.

His voice dips, like he’s talking to one of his young patients in the pediatric ward.

His voice softens, taking on that gentle, almost paternal tone he reserves for his youngest patients and... apparently, his submissive fiancée when she's in a vulnerable state. “There we go... shh... my good girl..."

“Zayne?”

“Hm?”

“Am I smart?”

“Get some sleep, Princess.”

#lads #lads x reader #love and deepspace #lads smut #lnds zayne #zayne smut #doctor zayne #zayne x you #zayne x mc #zayne #lads zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #l&ds zayne

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southernimpala · 2 months ago

Text

i love you, stupid

sam winchester x fem!reader

summary ↬ sam gets a bit too drunk after you get hurt and you're left to take care of him

notice ↬ she has finally posted!! a little angst if you squint, fluffy as always, sam being drunk, descriptions of injury nothing too crazy, writers block is a bitch (and so is finals week(but dean smut coming soon :)), no use of y/n, lowercase intended !

wordcount ↬ 3.2k

the motel bathroom smells medicinal like antiseptic, burning your nose and causing tears to flood your waterline.

well, you aren’t sure if it’s the rubbing alcohol or the stinging from your head wound that’s making you cry. probably both.

the hunt was a success; a few stubborn vampires taking teenage girls as their victims in a nowhere town in oaklahoma, nothing you and the boys couldn’t handle. except, when a vampire manages to get their hands on you, that’s a cause for disaster.

“can you be any more rough?” you groan. you’re sitting on top of the sink, gripping hard around the porcelain under you as dean closes the nasty gash decorating your forehead, “you stitch yourself up like this?”

he sticks his tongue out in concentration, not bothering to entertain your words laced with pain, “almost done.”

“i can’t believe the thing managed to throw me down a flight of stairs,” you chuckle mirthlessly, the ache stemming from your back coursing through the rest of your body as you recall the incident, “couldn’t even do its job right and just bite me.”

dean laughs. sam, who is leaning against the bathroom door frame, doesn’t.

instead, he scoffs, “did you want it to?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “no, sam, i was kidding—” you hiss as dean threads the last needle through, “—fuck, that stings.”

he still doesn’t appear amused. his eyes fall to his shoes, arms crossed over his broad chest as he avoids your confused gaze, looking like a kid whose just been scolded.

you know sam doesn’t take people close to him getting hurt lightly, especially you, for a reason you can’t pinpoint. but, nothing tragic happened. you’d just been shoved and knocked out; hit your head on the last step before tumbling all the way down. compared to what else the three of you have been put through, that seems miniscule.

except, sam isn’t taking it like some tiny paper cut or bruise. and truthfully, you were trying to make yourself feel better about the situation. losing consciousness for an hour and waking up with a much too deep tear in your forehead was enough to spook even you. but, you were fine. alive and breathing.

“well,” dean starts, noticing the awkward tension suffocating the room, “you probably still have a concussion, so i’d take it easy tonight, see how you feel in the morning.”

“great,” you huff sarcastically, letting him help you off the counter, “i was planning on getting plastered.”

sam scoffs again, his eyes, weighted by something, glaring at your figure as you move to sit on one of the motel beds, “you aren’t funny.”

“alright, what’s your problem?” you ask, now slightly annoyed at the coldness bleeding from his tone.

“nothing,” he brushes off, “just wish you’d take this more seriously.”

“more seriously?” you repeat, surprised, and now, completely frustrated, “what do you want me to do? sulk about a scratch on my forehead?”

“it isn’t a scratch,” he retorts, voice picking up.

“well, it certainly isn’t fatal!” you argue louder. your head starts to spin.

“could’ve been!”

“could not!” spots dot your vision.

suddenly, dean moves to step in between the two of you just before you can attempt to stand up and escalate the situation.

“alright, alright, you two, will you both calm down,” dean intervenes, like a parent taking control of his two children, his hands stopped in front of both of your chests, “she’s fine, sammy, take it easy on her, alright?”

sam bites the inside of his cheek, looking away and nodding angrily. it takes all but a minute of silence for him to break it, “i’m going out,” he announces, words thick with emotion.

your expression softens slightly as you hear the slight shake in his voice and see the bob in his throat as he swallows whatever is lodged there. your mouth opens and closes like a fly trap, trying to muster something to say to diffuse whatever the hell that was before he walks out.

you jump as the door slams shut, and suddenly, all the blood—red hot with frustration and confusion—rushes back to your wound as you begin to wobble on weak legs. dean grabs your arm to stabilize you— “woah, you’re okay,”—helping you sit back on the bed as you take your head in your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as your vision blurs and spins.

you muster a laugh, “guess it’s worse off than we thought.”

“well, gettin’ yourself all worked up will do that,” dean says, his eyebrows now creased in newfound concern at your worsening state. your eyes start to become heavy. dean notices.

he helps you lay back against the pillows, “try and get some rest.”

you nestle your face into the floral fabric, trying to ignore the musty smell and the ache in your chest as you take a deep breath, flashes of sam’s face, so melted in emotion and anger, burn your eyelids, “is he alright, dean?”

“he’s fine and so are you,” dean hushes quickly, bringing the covers up over your shoulder, “i’ll go talk to him; you don’t worry ‘bout a thing but gettin’ better.”

at his voice’s soft assuredness, you manage to sink yourself into your drowsiness, sleep overtaking your aching body.

when you awake, you’re immediately drawn to the dull throbbing in your temple, traveling down your arms—bruises starting to form along your skin—all the way to the bottom of your back. you groan, bringing a hand to shield your sensitive eyes from the gross, yellow light emitting from the bedside lamp, bulb flickering shadows onto the dark walls.

the ac is loud, too loud for the migraine you’re experiencing. and the disorientation that comes after a concussion-induced nap consumes you.

as you try to adjust your eyes and ears, you begin to sit up, looking around the room. and that’s when you realize you’re alone.

you sigh. at least with the room to yourself you could go back to sleep easier, no snoring or loud breathing to annoy you as you heal. but as you move to turn the lamp off, you notice a note scribbled in dean’s handwriting and another room key.

found sam. he’s at the bar. got me and him the next room over to give you space.

if you’re reading this, go back to bed.

you want to smile at the thoughtfulness, but ‘found sam. he’s at the bar’ causes your insides to twist.

your eyes glance at the old digital clock beside the note, the blinking red numbers reading 4:41. you assume dean managed to drag his ass back to the new room, both probably passed out asleep at this point. you’d slept for four hours. a lot could happen in four hours.

just make sure he’s back home, you think to yourself as you make your weak legs get out of bed. another blood rush forces you to grip the nightstand, steadying yourself as much as possible as you blink away more spots. just make sure he’s alright.

you leave the room, chilly june wind swirling around you under the bright moonlight, which is peeking through tree silhouettes from the nearby woods.

the dive bar across the parking lot catches your eye, but you force yourself into the next room. unlocking the door with the spare key next to the note, your heart sinks as you creak it open and see dean, sprawled on the far right bed, passed out and snoring in the dark room, with sam nowhere to be found.

you curse to yourself, shutting the door gently so as not to wake him. you look over at the bar again and your stomach knots. god knows what sort of state he’s in; drunk out of his mind, maybe in the middle of a fistfight with a biker gang. it all seems so much more dean winchester, but the look in sam’s eye before he left told you he wasn’t in the right state of mind, wasn’t sam.

the loud classic rock blasting through the jukebox in the dingy bar was enough to make your head spin again. you blink rapidly to keep your vision stable as you search each face for the hazel eyes you catch yourself staring into, for the soft hair you only wish you could run your fingers through, and the smile that amplifies your pulse.

it takes a while to find him in the crowded, small room, but sudden shouting erupting from a pool table in the far corner perks your ears.

“you think you can hustle me?” a gruff voice shouts.

“nooooo, i knowww i can hustle youuuu,” another slurs. you recognize that voice.

pool cues clatter on the floor. loud boots stomp. a fist connects to a face.

your heart drops as sam’s body stumbles back into the billiard table. without hesitation, you’re pushing through the bulky crowd with newfound adrenaline. before the large, tatted man can get another hit on sam, you stand between them, shielding his body with yours, broken and bruised.

“stop!” you yell, digging your hand into sam’s chest to keep him against the table, “he’s leaving okay, he’s leaving.”

you can’t look at sam’s face, but you feel his eyes, hooded with impairment, burning holes into your figure.

“look at this,” the man laughs grossly, “this one’s got a bitch saving his ass.”

sam wrestles against your hold, “shut up!”

“what was that boy?” the man takes another burley step toward you, but you hold your ground.

“get away from us,” you demand. the man’s face twists as your vision blurs again, “we’re leaving.”

you grab sam’s shoulders firmly, forcing him out as he struggles to break free, “let go of me!”

ignoring his feeble attempts at rushing back to the man—his body shaking with rage against you—you manage to make it out of the bar and into the brisk night air again.

“sam, can you—” you grunt as you heave his arm higher around yours, struggling under the deadweight, “—can you help me out a little here?”

his breath reeks of whiskey as it fans across your face, “that jackasssss—should’ve shown h-him who i—” he hiccups, “—ammm!”

“god, how much did you drink?” you think aloud, the motel room getting closer.

he giggles drunkenly, “not enough!”

you roll your eyes, propping him up on the dirty brick as you unlock the door, sam instantly bursting inside. he stumbles into a dusty lamp, laughing to himself as he trips about the room. he eventually lands on the mattress, sprawling out and staring at the ceiling.

you take a wobbly seat in the chair across the beds, rubbing a stressed hand across your forehead, careful not to graze over the fresh stitches in your skin.

“this bed is comfortable!” he shouts, forcing you to shush him harshly.

the small bit of relief you feel now that sam’s in your sights, alive and not getting his ass handed to him in some back alley behind the bar, fades quickly as he starts rambling, giggling, and acting like dean after a rough bender.

“sam, what the hell is wrong with you?” you ask exasperatedly.

“what do you mean?” he asks, clueless, “i feel great!”

your tongue pokes your cheek, “why did dean leave you in that bar?”

sam smiles strangely, “he didn’t leaveeee, i made him.”

“yeah, and how did you do that?” you ask, unbelieving. you know dean would never leave his brother in this state regardless of how hard sam tries to shoo him off.

“well, i wasn’t like this,” he states, as if you should’ve known that already. he shrugs, “i just told him i’d be back in an hour… like three hours ago,” a giggle bursts past his whisky lips, “what an idiot!”

“this isn’t like you,” you huff, standing up to help him sit upright; just in case he starts vomiting.

“why can’t it be like me?” he hiccups, “oh, so—dean’s the only one to have all the fun?”

“no, i—” suddenly, waking dean and letting him handle whatever the hell is happening with his brother seems like your favorite way of dealing with this. “i just wanna know what’s wrong.”

under the dim light illuminating half of his face, reflecting off the green and yellow in his iris, you finally notice how tired he looks. and not so much physically. emotionally, it seems like he went through a trainwreck—baggy under eyes, flushed cheeks, waterline rimmed red.

“you,” he whines, mind still in a brandy induced fog.

you bite your lip, “you can hate me for dragging you out of there sam, but, i still need to know what’s—”

“yeah, you!” his voice picks up again.

you wonder if it’s your head trauma or the confusion causing your head to spin

“sam, i don’t—”

“i couldn’t even stitch you up myself,” he mumbles, words dipped in delirium, “hands were shake—” he hiccups again, “—my hands were shaking and i knew i couldn’t so dean had to.”

you’re silent as he rambles and runs a stressed hand through his tousled brown hair, soft despite the sweat accumulating by his temple, “i wanted to do it but i couldn’t stop remembering you falling down those—” another hiccup, “—down those stairs.”

without warning, sadness crashes over his face like a tidal wave, the giddy drunken smile morphing into a depressed frown, brows furrowed, eyes now heavy and teary-eyed, “i thought you were done; all the blood from your head and how many steps you fell down and then you didn’t wake up—” he cuts himself off with a choked sob, “and i was too late.”

your ribs gripped your heart in a clenched fist, “what do you mean, ‘too late’, sam?”

another pained gasp slips from his lips, “i saw it, saw you about to fall, saw that vamp put its hands on you and i froze.”

in an instant, your mind flashes to right before you were shoved, and then you remember. sam’s broad figure looming down the hallway, watching with wide eyes, frozen in fear. realistically, there was no way he could make it to you in time regardless, but you felt the weight of his guilt. and then it all makes sense.

“sam—”

“don’t,” he interrupts, sniffling, and you can tell the rush of emotion forced him to sober up a bit, “it was my fault.”

you purse your lips, swallowing down whatever multitude of protests are dying to be let out. you know that’s the last thing he needs, and the uneasy look on his face as he wobbles in his seat confirms that for you.

he almost topples forward, reminiscent of how you were after dean had patched you up, but you catch his shoulders, easing him back down on the floral sheets and onto his side.

“i’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes fluttering as he fights sleep.

“nothing to be sorry for, sammy,” you say, trying to keep your composure.

he looks so soft and innocent, the way his eyelashes fan against his blushed cheek sending your brain scrambling again. you run a warm hand down his forearm, easing him into some kind of relaxation.

sam tries to fight it, swallowing dryly as he looks at you through hooded lids, “i won’t freeze next time,” he exhales.

as he drifts off to sleep under your steady hand, you pray your heart isn’t thumping loud enough for him to hear through your chest, because you certainly can.

your fingers move to trace the fresh, bumpy, and definitely uneven stitches along your forehead, and can’t help the bittersweet grin that forms on your face as his words settle.

the buzz of the dingy diner the next morning is not the wakeup call neither you or sam need, heads in a tizzy from the debilitating hangover and your little trip downstairs. you’re both squished in the red booth beside each other, twirling your fork in your eggs—a sickening yellow color that makes your guts twist—and sam, gulping down water like a starved man.

not to mention, you were both running on four hours of sleep.

dean looks between the two of you, “jesus, what the hell happened to you two last night?”

you groan, sliding your head into your hands, “too much.”

“way too much,” sam adds, voice muffled by the plastic cup.

“i knew i shouldn’t have left you,” dean says, taking a hefty forkful of pancakes, “either of you because this—” he points to the two of you with his utensil, “—this is what happens.”

the look on dean’s face when he walked into your room this morning, dumbfounded at the sight before him: you and sam sleeping beside each other, not touching but certainly close enough, might be ingrained in your memory forever.

“i took care of it,” you assure.

“only did so with a concussion,” he argues, stabbing his breakfast again, “what the hell happened?”

you try to hide the pink arising on your cheeks, sinking into the ripped up booth, attempting to catch sam’s expression out of the corner of your eye. you can tell he’s trying to hide the fact that he remembers everything, the words he spoke bordering on some kind of confession still lingering on his tongue. you ache to hear them, to know why he lost himself last night because you were hurt.

certainly, it wasn’t just because you were friends. and the rose color dusting over his nose confirms that for you.

“nothing,” you clear your throat, sitting up straighter, “just got him to bed and passed out again.”

“yeah,” dean mumbles, unconvinced, “yeah, alright.”

he gets a head start to the car as you and sam pay the bill at the front, anxiety crawling up your stomach and settling in your chest as you rack your brain on anything to say to him.

“so,” you start, walking out of the diner, “don’t remember a thing, either?”

sam stops, grabbing your elbow softly to pull you out of dean’s view, shielding yourselves on the side of the building. you press up against the brick, watching as his tongue pokes at his cheek in thought.

“you have no idea how sorry i am about last night,” he says quickly, face flushed, “you were hurt and you had to take care of me and listen to me spew all this self loathing crap, and—”

“sam,” you stop him, bringing a hand to his solid chest, feeling the thump thump of his heart as it races under your palm, “was it all true?”

his eyebrows furrow before falling softly in realization and remembrance.

“about you freezing and caring and worrying,” you add, voice a note higher than a whisper, “was it true?”

he looks away, then slowly begins to nod.

all the blood in your body rushes to your feet, almost giving you a feeling of weightlessness, and before you can back down, you bring your lips up softly to his, pressing deep into his mouth as his part in shock.

then, he melts, a large hand falling behind your head, fingers threaded through your hair.

you feel him smile against your own, prompting you to bring a palm up to his jaw, the kiss deepening—

a loud honk blares through the chirping birds and rustling trees. you both jump apart, lips swollen and eyes bulged.

dean pulls the car up, watching you through the impala windows as he honks again, beckoning you both.

you swallow down the lump in your throat as everything dean winchester is going to say about what he’s seen rushes through your mind.

yeah, you’re both done for.

but, it’s so worth it.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ sam winchester masterlist !

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