#I’m in the break room right now I just choked a little

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Hate You (Kidding)

Crowley & daughter!reader, Sam and Dean & witch!reader, a little Rowena & granddaughter!reader

Requested by Anonymous

Synopsis: your dad abandoned you years ago, but what happens when he finds out you’re still alive?

A/N: just so no one gets confused about this, here’s the background—Crowley found out how powerful demon/human babies can be, so he tried to make one, only it didn’t go the way he planned—the baby (you) were born without powers, and so he abandoned you. (Just because I didn’t want to give this the exact same backstory as Crowley’s son)

The theft was not going well. Your grandmother had made it seem so easy—sneak into the bunker, grab the black spell book, and make it out fast.

She failed to mention the two professional hunters that lived there.

You hadn’t been dumb enough to assume it would be empty—there had to be a reason Rowena wasn’t going herself, after all; she was scared. But you weren’t ready for Sam and Dean Winchester.

They had you in their dungeon basement—which was super creepy—before you’d even managed to find the book, much less grab it.

“What were you looking for, kid? Who sent you here?” The shorter—but no less scary—one had his hands on the sides of your chair, and he was looming over you. You had no doubt that he was willing to hurt you—you did break into his very dangerous house, after all.

You kept quiet, still unsure what the best course of action was. If you told them about the book and Rowena, would they let you go and go after her?

Then again, you didn’t know anything about these guys—maybe once they got their information, they’d just kill you.

You decided to stay quiet.

“Hey!” Dean smacked his hand on the arm of your chair, and you flinched. “I said—“

The man stopped yelling when the lights went out. They flickered back on a moment later, only this time they were red.

“Someone’s here,” the tall one said.

“I’ll go check.” The man in front of you pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans and turned to leave, saying to the tall one “watch her.”

Then it was just you and the giant—who, surprisingly, seemed a little less scary. He was definitely intimidating, but he also had a sort of “I don’t hurt children” vibe about him.

“This will all be easier if you tell us what you were after,” he broke the silence.

“Right, because you’ll have a reason to keep me alive after I tell you everything,” you scoffed.

“We won’t have a reason to kill you, either,” Sam countered.

“And you need one?” You questioned.

“What makes you think we’d just kill you for no reason?” He asked.

“I mean I did break into your house, and you are hunters.” You shrugged as best you could with your hands cuffed behind you.

“I’m Sam,” the man said, crouching down so he was more on your level—he was trying to look less intimidating, which surprised you. “That other guy is my brother Dean. We are hunters, but we’re not gonna just kill you for no reason. We’re not like that.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the door opening cut you off.

“Look who came for a visit.” Dean stepped into the room with a man trailing behind him. As soon as the man stepped into the light, every bit of air left your lungs.

“Didn’t know you had a visi—“ Crowley’s sentence froze halfway out of his mouth when he laid eyes on you.

Dean’s suspicious gaze picked up on the awkwardness instantly.

“You two know each other?”

Crowley gained his voice back first. “Used to. Not so much anymore.”

“Oh I don’t know about that.” You found the strength to speak after you heard Crowley’s words. “You still look just as pathetic to me, father.”

“Father?” Dean choked. “Wait, that’s not possible.”

“I thought you were dead.” Crowley was now completely ignoring the Winchesters. “After…after that incident I figured the demons would’ve—“

“Incident?!” You all but screamed. “Incident? Is that what you call you abandoning me? Leaving me for dead? An incident?”

“I had no choice,” Crowley argued. “When the other demons found out you were powerless—“

“The other demons? It wasn’t about the other demons, it was about you! You used my mother to make yourself a half demon, and when I didn’t turn out to have any powers you threw me away. You wanted your demon friends to kill me.”

“No.” Crowley was brushing past Sam and Dean now, coming to stand directly in front of you. You squirmed in your chair, but you couldn’t get further away from him. “No I didn’t. I thought if I got rid of you, they’d have no reason to kill you and—“

“Don’t lie to me!” You cried out. “I’m not stupid! You may not have wanted me dead, but you sure didn’t abandon me to try to save me. You did it because I was useless to you. Pretending otherwise is just…it’s just pathetic.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue, but he had nothing to say—he knew you were right.

“So you’re half demon with no powers?” Dean cut in. “Because I’ve met a half demon who could do anything he wanted just by thinking it.”

“Why do you think he wanted to make me?” You forced your gaze away from your father to look at Dean. “He wanted an all powerful being that was also fully dependent on him. Too bad for him, not all half demons are the same, and he got stuck with the powerless one.”

“But that doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” Sam cut in.

You bit your lip. You should’ve known it would circle back to this.

“Look, we’re not gonna hurt you if you tell us,” Sam promised.

“Fine.” A sly smirk lifted onto your face as your eyes went back to your father. “I’m here to get a book. For my grandmother.”

Crowley was still choking on air while Sam and Dean shared a meaningful glance before turning back to you.

“Rowena? You’re working for the witch?” Dean’s reaction told you that he both knew Rowena and probably hated her.

“She’s the only reason I’m still alive,” you said. “When he—“ you were inclined your head towards Crowley “—left me behind to get killed by demons, she saved my life.”

“My mother knows you’re still alive and she never told me?” Crowley scoffed. “It’s just like her.”

“She didn’t tell you because I told her how much I hated you.” You glared at Crowley as you spoke. “She understood the feeling, and we had a mutual understanding. Anyway, she told me she would teach me to take out demons the way she can—“

“But let me guess—only if you steal a spell book from us and bring it to her,” Dean interrupted.

“She said it was the only way she’d be able to teach me,” you defended yourself.

“She lied,” Crowley butted in. “She always lies—she was using you to get that book.”

“Oh, right, because you’re so trustworthy,” you shot back. “Why should I trust you?”

“You don’t think it’s a little strange that the first thing she does with you is send you to a place where you could get hurt, just to get something for her?” Sam argued. “You don’t think that that’s using you?”

You were quiet for a moment, and when you spoke again it was more subdued.

“I didn’t have any other choice. There are still demons out there who want me dead, and I’m totally and completely helpless.”

“You don’t have to be,” Crowley said. “I can help you.”

“Rowena may not be a saint, but I already know I can’t trust you,” you snapped. “I’m not looking to get abandoned again.”

“She had to know you’d get caught.” Sam seemed to be talking more to himself than anyone else. “So why…”

The Winchesters seemed to come to a conclusion at the same time, sharing a moment of telepathic connection before they turned and ran out the door.

“Do they do that a lot?” You wondered.

“You have no idea,” Crowley huffed. “I suppose I should find out what’s wrong.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet?” The sudden smirk on your face made Crowley nervous. “Oh come on, don’t tell me you fell for that whole ‘totally and completely helpless” thing.” As you spoke, Crowley saw a faint glow coming from your hands, which were still handcuffed behind you. After a moment, he heard a snapping sound, and suddenly both of your hands were free and you were standing up. “Do you really think Rowena sent me here with no knowledge of magic?”

With a single wave of your hand, you sent Crowley flying against the wall. He landed with a thud, and you stepped over his frame on your way out the door.

“See you soon, father.”

…

Rowena had escaped with the book by the time Sam and Dean got to the library—she had waited until everyone was in the dungeon to make her move—and by the time the boys got back to the dungeon, Crowley was on the floor and you were gone.

“Great,” Dean growled. “She tricked us. I hate witches!”

“For once,” Crowley groaned as he slowly sat up. “I agree with you.”

…

“The Winchesters.” Your nervous gaze met your grandmother’s as you watched her flip through the spell book. “It’s them, they caught up. What now?”

“We need to distract them long enough for me to get through this spell,” Rowena insisted. “I won’t even need the book anymore as long as I can get this spell done.”

“I’ll distract them.” You were halfway to the door when Rowena stopped you.

“No, you’re not strong enough, not like this.” The way your grandmother was staring you down made you nervous.

“Like this?” You asked.

The door blasting open after a swift kick from Dean Winchester seemed to make up Rowena’s mind.

“I’m sorry, dear girl, but it’s the only way,” she said. “Impetus be—“

“Not so fast, mother.” You father appeared out of nowhere just behind Rowena, and he snatched up the spell book she was holding and swung it at her—she went down without another word. “I’m the only one that gets to hurt my brat.”

You didn’t say anything—you were still shaking. “Impetus beastiarum”—that’s what Rowena had been trying to say. Your own grandmother was going to turn you into a rabid monster—and ultimately kill you—just so that she could get away.

“The book.” You flinched out of your daze when Sam Winchester brushed past you and held his hand out to your father.

“Of course, moose,” he answered. “What would I need with a witches book?” He passed it over without argument.

“Why did you save me?” You demanded, sidestepping the taller Winchester to get a good look at your father, who merely shrugged.

“I’m the only one that gets to kill you.”

…

The Winchesters, of course, wanted to grab you after the little incident, but you flung them against the wall with your powers—one of the few tricks your grandmother had managed to teach you, and currently your favorite—and left before they got the chance.

You didn’t see them or your father for several more months. When you saw Crowley again, you were running for your life.

Somehow word had gotten around that a great witch had a granddaughter; or maybe it was that the king of hell had a daughter—you didn’t know, and you didn’t care. All you knew was that an archangel was after you because of it, and you had tried to cut a deal with him.

It hadn’t worked.

Lucifer had wanted you because he thought you’d be useful, and when he found out you weren’t, he of course decided that killing you was proper punishment for wasting his time.

You were in the midst of running for your life when you saw your father.

He was chained to the floor like a dog, watching your exchange with the archangel with peaked interest.

“Conteram hoc cincinno,” you yelled as you ran—it worked, and the chains at Crowley’s wrists snapped; they were warded against demons, not witches.

The freeing of his prisoner was enough of a distraction to get Lucifer off your tail. By the time he remembered you, you were out the door, and when he tried to turn his attention back to Crowley, the demon had already teleported.

…

“What was that?”

You jumped in surprise when your father appeared next to you.

“An escape,” you huffed out.

“You saved me back there.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you demanded. Crowley just grinned at you.

“Maybe witches aren’t so bad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl @casmustdiee @987coley @deadlymistletoe @wayward-impala83 @whump-loverz

[gothicayomi]

What if All For One is Tomura’s grandpa AND Izuku’s dad

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,��� you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends—show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[cloudystevie]

scary my god you're divine

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pairing || bucky barnes x f!reader

word count || 3235

summary || he would do anything for you.

warnings || smut! dom! bucky x sub! reader, possessive! bucky, a little bit of subspace, choking, little bit of exhibitionism kink, minor pain play, daddy kink (only three times okay i'm sorry i am who i am), degradation, unprotected sex

author's note || 18+ ONLY. not proofread yet. my very first request in a very long time! Anonymous asked: Could you write a Dombucky x Subreader? And if you wouldn't mind jealous!bucky, already established relationship and his dog tags on reader? hope you enjoy nonnie! as always feel free to send in requests or any asks! feel free to reblog! enjoy!

»» ──────ஓ๑ ღ ๑ஓ ────── ««

Today, a select few from the team are supposed to train the new agents, preparing them for the physical aspect of being an agent. Some made it fun or tolerable, like Steve and Sam, who were born leaders and charismatic. Natasha and Wanda enjoyed supervising the sparring sessions. Tony and Bruce enjoyed using technology to throw new obstacles at the agents.

Sometimes literally.

Unfortunately, your grumpy boyfriend, Bucky, just did not find any joy in training days. He didn’t like giving out instructions and praise unless it was you who was under him. He didn’t like supervising weak punches and miscalculated throws. And technology was just a straight-up no for him.

Usually, he could make himself useful with Steve, throwing out no-nonsense orders without making himself a massive part of the effort.

You were taking the elevator down to the gym floor. Fury had instructed you to check everything out and ensure everything went according to the itinerary. 

The doors open, and you glance around to ensure no immediate problems before letting your gaze fall on Bucky; his eyes are already on you. You offer him a bright smile, which he returns with a smirk, and your stomach flutters like it does every time you see him. You’re about 7 feet away from your boyfriend before you feel a hand on your lower back. You startle and turn around to face the newest agent. He has quickly climbed through all of SHIELD’s tests and proven himself to be of great value. He chatted you up last week at Tony’s charity ball, and you tried to let him down gently since you were already happily taken. Bucky was on a mission that day, and you didn’t want to add to his mental load by telling him about some punk who wouldn’t leave you alone.

Apparently, said punk, cannot take no for an answer.

“Back for more, cutie? You finally break up with your imaginary boyfriend?” Marcus teases, but really, he sounds more taunting than playful. You glance over your shoulder as you move away from his grip, and you already see Bucky glaring directly at the spot where Marcus’ hand was on your back. The stopwatch he was holding in his flesh hand shatters, and he doesn’t even flinch when Steve and Sam apologize for him, asking what was wrong as discreetly as they could but one glance over to where you were uncomfortably held hostage by the lean brunet man told them everything they needed to know. 

Bucky cracks his neck, rolling his shoulders up as he stalks towards you two. His looming presence is felt before you can see him in your peripheral vision. You glance up at him and take an instinctive step back toward his hulking body, breathing a sigh of relief because Marcus has to let up now.

He doesn’t.

“Oh hey, Sergeant Barnes, if you don’t mind I’m actually trying to talk to this chick so…” 

The way he talks about you as if you’re not right there makes you physically recoil. Bucky’s eyes harden; he’s not even squaring up to his full stature, and he already easily dwarfs Marcus. Bucky takes a step forward, and everyone in the room comes to a standstill. Everyone shuddering at the sheer anger rolling off of Bucky and the stupidity of Marcus.

Marcus huffs out a laugh. Maybe he gets a little pasty when he’s nervous because he seems to be digging himself a deeper hole when he says something about how many girls fall at his feet and Sarge, you've got to calm down. She’s not worth all that.

In an instant, Steve and Sam command everyone to return to their tasks, and the room begins to bustle again, but with a specific weary energy that was not there before. The very next second, Marcus is picked up by the collar of his black t-shirt and slammed against the wall, the room rattling with the force of it as all the recruits try to ignore the spectacle before them. 

“Touch her again, and I will kill you,” Bucky promises. “If you look at her, I will kill you. If you even think about her, I will fucking kill you. Understand?” His voice is a low grumble, the words resounding and reverberating as you watch Marcus sputter out panicked apologies and his flailing body while Bucky still looks so self-assured and composed. It's as if he’s not scaring a man to death while simultaneously making you drool.

You call out Bucky’s name, and he looks at you over his shoulder, pinning Marcus with one final glare and shove before letting him go as the agent does the walk of shame to the washroom. It’s almost like you’re frozen in your spot. You’ve seen Bucky get aggressive on missions before, but watching him be so willing to defend you, stand up for you when you couldn’t, not even hesitating for a second when he threatened to kill for you. And the worst part is, you were confident he was dead serious. 

Even worse, something about the principle of the situation was really doing it for you.

On the outside, it might have seemed like you were in shock or panic due to the agents’ actions, so Bucky whisked you away to a private interrogation room on the floor above the gym. The whole elevator ride there, his hand is protectively on your lower back, and you just watch the rigid set of his jaw and the anger and possessiveness written all over his features with unmistakable doe eyes. The air in the elevator is thick, and neither of you says a word. Before you know it, Bucky is easily lifting you and placing you on the metal table in the middle of the dull room, and his eyes are scanning yours for any hint of panic or if you’re upset. His hands cup your face gently, the cool vibranium soothing against your heated skin, and he finally breaks the silence. “You’ve gotta say something, baby. Are you okay? After this, that idiot’s going to be gone. I’m sorry if seeing me like that upset you, sweetheart-” Your rushed words cut off his ramble, “I thought that was really hot.” You say quietly and watch as Bucky’s face contorts from one of worry to one of confusion. 

“The way you stood up for me, you were so nonchalant about killing for me. I can’t lie, James. That kind of did something for me.” You continue, biting your lip and scanning him for his reaction, hoping he didn’t take your words in the wrong way. 

He’s silent for a moment. His chest moving steadily with each breath against yours. 

The next moment, his lips are pressed against yours, and you let a surprised squeak out. Your mouth slots open when his wandering hands roughly squeeze your thigh through your satin pants, getting dangerously close to the heat pulsing between your thighs. Taking advantage of your open mouth, Bucky slips his tongue inside your mouth and you buck your hips to seek some friction against your needy core. The kiss is passionate and renders your breathless as he consumes all of your senses. All you can think, see, smell, hear, and feel is James. 

His name falls from your lips in a gasp, you reluctantly pull away to catch your breath, letting your head lull to the side when he peppers sloppy kisses all over your jaw, trailing down your neck and biting and licking on your sweet spot. You swat at his firm bicep, “You’re gonna leave a mark James, stop it.” Your attempt at scolding him is weak, even to your own ears.

You feel Bucky smirk against your sensitive neck, his wandering hands cupping your ass and shamelessly groping and swatting at you. “Oh really? That’s too bad baby. Gonna be a pain to cover up.” He remarks, voice dripping in cockiness.

You scoff and bite back a whimper when he grinds his undoubtedly hard length against your clothed center. Your hands shoot out to stabilize yourself by holding onto his shoulders, a shiver crawling up your spine when a particularly slow grind nudges your aching clit. “You’re such a bad influence you know that?” Your voice lacks any real conviction. Your hips move in tandem with his, both of you sharing messy kisses and your bodies thrumming with lust and pent up energy. 

“I’ll kill anyone who even thinks about looking at you.” Bucky says assuredly, and you can’t help the mewl that escapes your lips at his words. Your hands shakily going to undo his black jeans as he messily pulls yours pants down, being considerate enough not to rip them considering there was still a little more than an hour until the SHIELD training day was over. “Bucky I need you, need you to please-” Your voice is shaky and desperate, as you struggle to unbutton his jeans. He shushes you gently, cooing at you sweetly as he easily unbuttons his jeans, just enough for you to promptly pull out his erect cock. Your mouth practically waters at his length and girth, and you spit onto your hand and begin rubbing his length, swiping your thumb gently over the tip making him hiss and push his hips into your hand. 

You bite your lip and look up at him through hooded eyes, and he slaps your hand away before tearing your panties in half, the top half covering your swollen clit and the bottom scrap of fabric falling limply against the cool table. You barely have time to scold him for ripping your panties before he’s shoving his whole length inside you in one fluid thrust. Your back arches, your legs wrapping around his waist as your buddy erupts in a shiver, a short scream escaping your lips. He swallows the noise with his mouth pressed against yours as he grunts into your mouth, waiting only a short second before he begins to thrust inside you. His thrusts are slow but hard, making the heavy metal table scrape against the floor with the force of each pass of his hips into yours. 

“You’re mine, mine to touch. Mine to have. Mine to take care of.” Bucky grunts out, his movements picking up in pace as emotion swirls in his voice, his metal hand covering your neck, forcing you to stay upright in a position that allowed you to feel all of him. You sob out, digging your nails into his bicep and nodding your head, already succumbing to that foggy feeling you felt when you were so close to your boyfriend. He tuts at you, swatting your face with his flesh hand with enough force to make you moan out and clench around his length. 

“Nuh-uh sweetheart, you’re not going dumb on me that quick. Use your words, tell me you’re mine. Tell me I’m yours.” His voice is commanding and you force yourself to look at him, pulling on his shirt and tugging on his dog tugs to get him closer, your foreheads pressing against each other as his thrusts continue to get faster. “I’m yours James, only yours. You’re only mine. No one else. Just you.” Your words are slurred as he groans out a good girl in approval and decides that he wants your shirt off. He skillfully manages to slip your navy blue long-sleeve off and unhooks your bra in one motion, freeing your tits to the cold air of the room, forcing the buds into sensitive peaks which Bucky is quick to take advantage of. His hands squeeze and pull at your tits, tugging and pinching cruelly at your nipples making you whine. 

Your bodies are pressed so close to one another, each pull of his hips making his pelvis rub against your aching clit, stray tears streaming down your face and your chest heaving and pushed up against Bucky.

If anyone were to walk in right now the picture would be nothing short of debauched. You completely bare on the table, Bucky completely clothed. Getting absolutely plowed if the screech of the metal against the floor was anything to go by. Your moans get higher in pitch and volume making Bucky grunt, another swat to your cheek making your brain foggy. “Shut the fuck up slut. You want everyone to see you getting fucked like the bitch in heat you are?” But if your moans and increasing wetness are anything to go by, yes, a deep and dark part of you does want that. Bucky laughs at you, shaking his head in faux disbelief and you wrap your lips around his dog tags, enjoying the soothing sensation brought by the cool metal. Bucky looks down at your lips wrapped around the dog tags he never seemed to take off and he let out a wrecked sound. You clench around him at the sound making his rhythm falter.

Before you can even process the loss of his proximity, your back is flat against the table and his dog tags are now around your neck, landing on your chest and glimmering in the dull fluorescent lighting of the room. Bucky slams himself back inside of you, the unmistakable squelch of your wetness filling up the room alongside both of your noises of pleasure. Your high-pitched and pornographic mewls and his low grunts and deep groans. You cry out his name as your head lulls to the side, eyes shutting in bliss as your fingers move to give your aching clit some attention. But Bucky lets out a disappointed grunt, grabbing your jaw in his hand and forcing you to maintain eye contact. “Look away from me again and I won’t let you cum for a fucking week stupid baby.” Bucky threatens. “You better fucking pay attention to who’s fucking you dumb. No need to close your eyes and imagine when you’ve got the real thing right here.”

Each of his words ignites a newfound purpose in Bucky as he pounds into you impossibly harder, his hand swatting against your cheek again and wrapping around your neck, keeping you in place to take all of his thrusts. He knows you always struggle to keep your eyes open and you don’t doubt that he will follow through on his threat. He has always enjoyed testing your weakness and pushing your limits. 

“Feels s’good. You’re so big Jamie. S’big, so good s’too good.” Your words are breathy and frail, your fingers rubbing quick circles around your aching button. A mean laugh rumbles in his chest as he watches the way his dog tags move with your tits, the sight is intoxicating and fuels Bucky to continue his torment. “There she is my dumb little baby. Couldn’t help yourself huh? Can’t help the way your brain goes quiet when I have my dick inside you.” His words should be humiliating but they only spur you on, your fingers on the verge of cramping but the jolts of pleasure are so overwhelming you can’t stop. “Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

“That’s it baby, I know, I know it feels so good huh. Daddy’s here baby, Daddy’s gonna take care of his needy baby.” Bucky’s head falls back on a moan when you clench around him, your walls pulsing and a ring of cream forming around the base of his cock. Your orgasm was surely just a few moments away and Bucky’s lips curled up in a smirk.

He folds your legs at the knee, sliding you closer to him with the pressure he has on your throat, the angle making him rub against your sweet spot with each deliriously pleasurable thrust. You squeal out his name, getting even louder than before and he shoves his dog tags into your mouth, muffling your garble out unintelligeble pleads to cum. With one hand Bucky squeezes your throat, and with the other he pinches at your nipples, tugging the sensitive flesh before trailing his hand down your body and slapping your hand away from your clit, he moves his lips down to your ears, licking up your earlobe before whispering his command, “Cum. Cum right fucking now or you don’t get to cum at all.” His fingers pinch your clit and the sudden burst of pain has you tensing your legs up, squealing out nonsense around the dog tags in your mouth and reaching your peak. Your body shakes against the table as Bucky pounds you through your high, his words of encouragement falling on deaf ears as you teeter between consciousness and unconsciouness. His body overwhelming your mind and soul. 

His fingers release your throat and you look up at him with watery eyes, bringing him down to rest your foreheads against each other as he nears his own high. Your lips are pressing against each other, “There isn’t a single person in the world I wouldn’t kill for you. I would do anything for you. You are everything to me.” Bucky murmurs in a pussy-drunk stupor. But the words are true, he has said them to you before and will say them a thousand times again. You taught him how to live again, not just survive. 

A broken cry falls from your lips from sensitivity and Bucky’s impassioned thrusts turn sloppy as he moans out your name, pulling you impossibly closer as he fills you with his cum. At the feeling of being completely stuffed by him, your second release is triggered and you shake in his hold as he comes down from his high. He presses lazy kisses against your lips and rubs his hands soothingly up and down your body, easing you out of your submissive state. He gently pulls himself out, using the handkerchief he carries around to wipe your thighs clean, but letting his cum keep your pussy messy. He quickly wipes himself off and helps you dress yourself. 

A few more giggly kisses and you’re pretty much ready to go back down to the gym. Just in time to catch the final thing on today’s agenda: sparring. Bucky walks one step behind you, his hand back again on your lower back protectively as a path is cleared to the front of the ring where your friends are supervising Marcus and another recruit preparing for the second round of their match. Natasha and Wanda offer you knowing smirks and you roll your eyes with heat creeping up cheeks as you shyly glance up at Bucky through your eyelashes to find him already looking at you with a stupid smile. He presses a gentle kiss to your cheek and watches with intent as Steve and Sam coach their respective agents. 

“Looking strong, Marcus!” Bucky calls out and you swat his chest making him laugh. Marcus takes one look at you, Bucky’s dog tags now around your neck and falling on your shirt, teeth imprints on your neck, and swollen lips. Poor Marcus falters, and the other recruit takes advantage of his distraction and easily tackles him to the ground, winning the second round. Bucky takes a single step closer to the ring where Sam is helping Marcus up, and the smirk on your arrogant boyfriend’s face is adorable. “Better luck next time buddy,” he says supportively. Sam flicks Bucky in the forehead, unable to hide the smile on his face, “Dumbass.”

[oceantornadoo]

marry me. (simon riley x f!reader)

simon riley is a dick, slight dacryphilia, over usage of “oh.”, reader does not understand this man is obsessed, marital abuse joke (he’s a dick)

—

“simon, would you ever,” deep breath, “ever want to get married?”

you focused your gaze on your hands, clenching and unclenching. deep breaths, in and out. you’d rehearsed the question for days, phrasing and everything. “doesn’t have to be with me of course, but maybejustingeneral?”

simon almost laughed, would have if explaining the story to anyone else. his sweet little dove, all moisturized in prim pajamas, springing marriage on him right as he got into bed. asking, almost pleading, as if you hadn’t been his since that first glance, that first brush of skin against gloved hands. but, you had asked about getting married in general, and well, he had to answer the exact question at hand.

“no.”

oh. well, some part of you had expected that. and of course, the legalities of you marrying a dead man had to be considered. you weren’t even sure if you two were official either, so the question must have freaked him out. you mentally deleted the wedding pinterest board in the back of your head, clearing white flowers from your vision. so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t notice simon turn on the bedside lamp, sitting up straight.

“not in general.” he liked watching you squirm, golden light spilling around the room, encircling you like a halo. simon could have sworn there were tears forming in your eyes, the thought so compelling he felt himself get half-hard. your lover waited patiently, spine made of steel as he watched you go through options mentally, contingency plan after plan. he didn’t want to marry you, so now what?

“well simon, i really do care for you but i can’t not -“ he cut you off. “said in general. ‘fore you. i’d marry you.” oh. oh. he cracked a smirk, full with idiocy. you turned behind you, grabbed your pillow, and whacked him in the face. (he didn’t even have the decency to pretend to fall over).

“‘s that for? thought you wanted to marry me, dove. tha’s practically marital abuse.” you couldn’t even bring yourself to laugh, throat still choked up from almost breaking up with him two seconds ago. you shook your head, watching your reflections in the mirror instead. “it’s not a joke, si. can’t just say that shit with a laugh.” well. guess you didn’t find it as funny as he did. how absolutely absurd it was to imagine simon not marrying you, not claiming you in every way possible with a ring on your finger, a change in name, and maybe a baby in a few years. of course you were going to be his wife. what other option was there?

“c’me here.” he dragged you into his lap, strong hands encircling your waist and pulling you into him with ease. you tucked your face into the crook of his neck, suddenly annoyed at your earlier reaction, all tears and feelings in the face of his smirk. “marriage is important to me, ok? i’m just sensitive about it.” he kissed your forehead, then rested his chin on top of it as you tried to burrow deeper into his skin. his hands were still at your waist, rubbing small circles, lulling you into a sense of calm. “‘m dead serious, dove. jus’ caught me off guard you felt the need t’ ask.” what did that mean? had he already been planning on marrying you? why was this stupid stupid man incapable of communication? instead of asking all these extremely pertinent questions, you settled for a quiet “oh.” he huffed at your lack of words. “bought a ring a month after we met if we’re bein’ honest.” oh. you were moving, simon’s hands readjusting to cradle your face, focusing your gaze on him. “i’ll do whatever flowers an’ cultural shit you want. the whole nine yards. y’ve been mine since that first smile, dove. whatever you need to make it official, ‘m here. laughed cuz in my mind, it already is. make sense?” you nodded, still not trusting your words. his face, stony as ever, gave no other answers. simon gave you a quick peck, then reached over to turn the lamp off.

“go’on. time to sleep, wife.”

oh.

—

i’m such an oh. truther. sorry for the over usage lol

[maxtermind]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys

★ : summary :: when he cheats on you ★ : feat :: max verstappen, lewis hamilton, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris ★ : genre :: angst ★ : word count :: 5k ★ : a/n :: please remember that all of this is fiction! anyway, enjoy the angst <3 cheating is not a slip up but a statement and i will not be writing a part 2 where they get back together :) as usual requests are open for other endings if you're interested (maybe she ends up with someone else on the grid to make it hurt more lol) ★ : gifs :: @\f1-stuff @\userhamilton @\slowestlap @\tyrannosaurus-maxy

Max Verstappen

Max and you had a pretty healthy work schedule. Thanks to your flexible remote work, you could travel with him and support him in person. But there were times when you were needed back at the home office but despite the distance, Max made sure to keep you in the loop.

From video calls, to texting whenever one was free, to random pictures shared, you were always pretty aware of what the other was doing. So imagine your shock when minutes after hanging up on a call after congratulating him on his win, you failed to get a hold of him before pictures of him started going viral.

But now, all of that seemed like a distant memory as you stared at the damning evidence on your phone. Pictures of Max, smiling and carefree, dancing with another woman in a crowded club, her arms wrapped around him possessively.

Your heart sank as you scrolled through the images, each one a painful reminder of the betrayal you never saw coming. And then, there it was, the blurry photo that confirmed your worst fears - Max and the other woman locked in a passionate kiss.

The world around you seemed to blur as well as tears welled up in your eyes, hot and bitter against your cheeks. Without thinking, you began to dial Max's number, your fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and desperation.

But each call went unanswered, each voicemail left unheard. With each unanswered ring, your heart broke a little more, until you could no longer bear the weight of your pain.

It was an hour later when you were in your bed, crying your eyes out when your phone finally lit up with Max's name, the screen casting a harsh glow in the dimness of your room.

As much as your head told you to hang up and let that be the final answer, you picked it up and whispered a low. ”Hi?” Your voice barely a whisper, choked with emotion.

”Y/N,” Max’s breathy voice came. It was enough to throw you off again and new tears gathered in your eyes.

”Where were you?” The words escaped your lips before you could stop them, raw with hurt and anguish.

”Baby…” Max's voice wavered, and you could hear the weight of his guilt in every syllable. It spoke volumes, you knew what had happened and he knew that. ”I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Your chest tightened at his words, the pain of his deceit threatening to consume you whole. And then, without warning, a strangled sob escaped your lips, the sound echoing in the silence of the room.

You could hear Max's sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line, a sound that only served to intensify your grief. But you were beyond caring about appearances now, your heart laid bare for him to see.

”I trusted you,” you choked out between sobs, the words a bitter indictment of the love you had once shared. ”Why would you do this to me?”

How could the man that made you feel like the only girl in the world for him do this to you? Did he even love you or was he just a really good actor?

Your voice quivered with pain as you struggled to maintain your composure,”You've broken me in ways I didn't even know were possible.”

Max's voice wavered as he tried to find the right words to express his remorse,”I never meant to hurt you, it was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

The life he has made sure he spent with someone not you. His voice cracked further and you realized that he was also crying on the other end. ”I can't bear the thought of not having you in my life.”

There was a long pause, as if Max was searching for the right words to say. But what words could possibly undo the damage that had already been done, the trust that had been shattered beyond repair?

Your words cut through him, echoing the pain he had caused,”Did… did you even love me, Max?”

”Of course, I love you!” He spoke, his voice carrying a sense of hurt. As if questioning the audacity to even ask that and that angered you. It made you so mad because this was on him. He did this.

”I wish I could turn back time and make things right, I’m so sorry, Y/N.” Max's breath hitched as he spoke before you could. The wounds he had inflicted too deep to be healed with a simple apology. ”I never meant to make you doubt my love for you.”

And as you listened to his voice crack with emotion, you knew that there was only one thing left to do. ”I don't even recognize the person I fell in love with anymore.” You whispered with finality, your voice filled with a mixture of sadness and disbelief.

Was this really the man who had promised you a future filled with a family and laughter? The man who just made your heart bleed out?

Max caught on and rushed to get the words out,”Please, Y/N, don't hang up. I need you more than ever, I love y-”

You hung up because how dare he say that after what he did. He called you again and again after that and if you weren’t half dying in your apartment, maybe you could’ve scoffed at how the roles were switched.

However, all you could do was switch off your phone and wonder how the man who once kissed all your scars better, could leave deeper ones in their place. Leaving you to do the work to mend them all alone.

Lewis Hamilton

It had all started the day you had foolishly decided to set up lunch to have the two most important people in your life, your bestfriend and your boyfriend, meet.

Lewis seemed genuinely enthusiastic about finally meeting the person who had been such a solid support in your life. Little did you anticipate that this innocent gathering would unravel into a scene of deception.

The signs were subtle at first. A quick exchange of numbers, a glance shared behind your back– easy to dismiss as innocent. But why would you look for such signs? When it included your most trusted humans on the planet?

But then came the slips, the accidental mentions of knowing each other's whereabouts better than you did.

”I don't think she'll pick up, she said she had an afternoon meeti-” Lewis caught himself on time before shrugging and ending with a: ”She posted it on her instagram, did you miss it?”

You laughed it off though it irked you. You were just glad that they were close before...

After an especially tiring day, you finally entered your house. Surprised to see the sitting room empty, where Lewis waits for you every time he's home early.

You sighed, instinctively petting Roscoe before moving inside the house. Desperate for a shower and clean clothes to get the day's stench off of you.

So imagine your shock when you walked into your bedroom,to discover Lewis and Rachel entwined in your bed, their bodies exposed and vulnerable. In your bed.

It took a second for you to process it while they both scrambled to get their clothes on. You just stared in disbelief while Rachel cried on the bed under covers and Lewis frantically wore his clothes while saying… something?

You felt like you were underwater for a second because you saw his mouth moving before his words started registering and tears started to pool in your eyes. The pain felt tangible, like a weight pressing down on your chest, as you confronted the unthinkable reality of their infidelity.

”Baby, let me explain. Ple- Please, this isn't what it looks like... I-”

You tore your eyes away from him before looking over at Rachel who was crying because she probably understood exactly what was happening.

You wanted to ask what exactly Lewis thought was going on but decided not to because your throat was closing up. The image of them together was burned into your brain. You just shook your head as tears fell from your eyes before turning around and walking out of the room.

As Lewis desperately jumbled to dress himself, his hands fumbling with buttons and zippers, he pleaded with you, his voice cracking with desperation.

”Y/N, please, you have to listen to me. This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he implored, his eyes wide with panic as he reached out to touch your arm, but you flinched away as if his touch burned. Feeling disgusted and deceived.

”What do you mean it's not what it looks like?!” you finally managed to choke out, your voice trembling with damage and betrayal. ”I come home to find you two... in our bed, na- naked!”

Lewis's face contorted in anguish, his mind racing for the right words to say, but nothing seemed adequate in the face of your devastation.

”It's... it's a misunderstanding, Y/N, I promise,” he stammered, his voice strained with emotion. ”Rachel and I... we didn't plan for this to happen. It's just... things got out of hand, and we never meant to do you wrong.”

You shook your head in disbelief because you didn’t know what else to do truly, feeling as if the ground had been pulled out from beneath you. ”How could you do this to me, Lewis? I thought you… that you loved me,” your voice turned in a whisper.

All the times he had discussed the future rushed through your mind. He wanted to retire and repeatedly told you how he wanted to marry you. Your hands trembled as you suddenly remembered asking Rachel to be your bridesmaid.

Suddenly, the pressure on your chest got worse.

Lewis's eyes pleaded with you, his voice barely a whisper as he struggled to find the right words. ”I don't know, Y/N. I don't know what came over me. I love you, you have to believe me. Please don't leave, we can work through this together.”

But his words fell on deaf ears as you turned away from him, the pain in your heart too raw to bear. ”I trusted you, Lewis. I trusted both of you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

As you moved towards the door, every step heavier than the last, Lewis's voice trembled with desperation, his hands reaching out to grasp yours, pleading for your attention.

”Y/N, please, don't leave,” he begged, his voice cracking with raw emotion. ”I messed up, I know I did, but I love you. Please, let me make it right.”

You paused, the weight of his words pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. ”How can you say you love me after what you did?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, thick with pain.

And with that, you turned away, leaving behind the shattered remains of the life you had once shared, the echoes of Lewis's pleas fading into the emptiness of the night. Swearing to never put your trust in anyone else ever again.

Carlos Sainz

You had sworn off of relationships for so long after your last one that it was honestly a miracle, as your friends and family put it, that you agreed to go out with Carlos. But he was the perfect gentleman to you. The person who gave you hope for a better future. Giving you hope that maybe all the ‘cheesy’ discourse was for you too.

He knew how you were hurt the last time and reassured you about how special you were to him and how you were always enough. Enough for him.

It slowly became a running joke once you guys hit the two year mark. You were finally at a stage where you had a loving partner that you could trust blindly.

So to say that you were blindsided would be an understatement…

Your fingers trembled as you scrolled through Carlos's phone, your heart racing with each new message that appeared on the screen.

You never thought you'd be the type to snoop, but the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach had become too much to ignore. He was so distant lately and so secretive about his phone, it was slowly killing you.

There it was, undeniable proof staring back at you in blue and white. Messages from an unknown number, filled with suggestive language and promises of secrecy. Your breath got caught in your throat as you read through the damning evidence, your heart sinking with each word.

‘Hey babe, can't wait to see you tonight ;) xoxo’

The message hit you like a punch to the gut, your mind reeling with disbelief. How could Carlos do this to you? You thought you had something special, something worth fighting for. But now, all those hopes and dreams lay shattered at your feet.

You tried to push down the rising tide of emotion, to find some innocent explanation for what you were seeing. But deep down, you knew the truth – Carlos was cheating on you.

When he emerged from the bathroom, you were waiting for him, phone in hand and tears in your eyes. And as you looked into his eyes, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

”Carlos,” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy in the air as he stepped into the room, his tousled hair and relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the turmoil raging inside you.

You weren’t really sure why you weren’t screaming and thrashing things around already. It was like you were frozen on the spot.

”What's wrong?” he asked, concern etched into his features as he took in your tear-streaked face and the phone clutched tightly in your hand. Though, when you looked at him, all you could see was how he was your everything. How you had given him your everything.

And you still weren’t enough.

You struggled to find the words, to articulate the emotions coursing through you. ”I found... I found something on your phone,” you finally managed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Carlos's expression faltered, his eyes flickering with uncertainty as he took a hesitant step closer. ”What do you mean?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.

You took a shaky breath, steeling yourself for the confrontation to come. ”Messages,” you began, your voice barely audible as you held up the phone, displaying the incriminating evidence for him to see. ”From someone... someone you've been seeing behind my back.”

Carlos's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the screen, his hand instinctively reaching out to take the phone from you. ”Y/N, I swear, I can explain,” he stammered, his voice tinged with desperation. Why was he reaching for the phone and not your hand?

But the words fell on deaf ears as the full weight of his betrayal hit you like a ton of bricks. ”Explain?” you echoed, your voice trembling with disbelief. ”How can you even explain this, Carlos? How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to touch you, to offer comfort or reassurance, but you recoiled, the sting of his infidelity too raw and painful to bear. ”I trusted you,” you choked out, tears streaming down your face as you backed away from him. ”How could you-”

Can love like this be lost too? You’ve been on your knees begging the universe to grant you one love that wouldn’t be snatched from you. Thinking all your prayers had been heard only for him to do it too.

Carlos's expression crumbled as he watched you retreat, his own anguish mirroring yours. ”I never meant for this to happen,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. ”Please, Y/N, give me a chance to make things right.”

As Carlos pleaded with you, his words heavy with desperation, you couldn't help but feel a pang of doubt. His promises of love and devotion clashed with the evidence on his phone, leaving you torn between the man you thought you knew and the painful truth staring back at you.

You met his gaze, seeing the desperation etched into his features as he struggled to make you believe him. ”Can you hear me?” he implored, desperation lacing his words. ”You are always enough for me. Please, you have to believe me. I love you more than anything, Y/N.”

His words pulled at your heartstrings, the sincerity in his voice almost convincing you to give him another chance. But deep down, you knew that trust once broken was not easily repaired.

You met his gaze, feeling the weight of his plea bearing down on you. ”I hear you,” you replied softly, nodding through your tears, your voice tinged with sadness. ”But it's not that simple, Carlos. I want to believe you, but...”

Carlos's grip on you tightened, his body pressing against yours as he sought solace in your embrace. ”Please, don't leave,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make this right, to prove to you that you're the only one for me.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled away, the pain of betrayal still raw and agonizing. ”No,” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the sound of your breaking heart. ”You did to us. You made me believe… I'm leaving. This is goodbye.”

With that, you turned and walked away, leaving Carlos standing alone in the wreckage of your brutally murdered relationship.

Charles Leclerc

You had rushed back home because for the first time in what feels like forever, your boyfriend was back home. Charles was a man of many charms. Despite being with him for so long, he still had you blushing and getting butterflies every time he was around.

He was busy when you got home so you decided to wash up but as you paced back and forth in the living room, your heart racing with anxiety, you didn’t know what to do to figure out what exactly Charles was doing.

Charles had been on the phone for what felt like hours, his voice hushed but urgent as he spoke to someone on the other end of the line. Normally, you wouldn't think much of it, but something about his tone tonight had set off alarm bells in your mind.

You tried to focus on a book, anything to distract yourself from the gnawing feeling of unease in the pit of your stomach. But every word you read seemed to blur together, your mind consumed with worry.

Finally, you couldn't take it anymore. With trembling hands, you set the book aside and made your way to the kitchen, where Charles was still on the phone.

”...I can't risk it tonight,” you heard him say, his tone strained ”She's coming home soon, and I don't want to risk it.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. Who was he talking about? And why did he sound so nervous?

Curiosity getting the better of you, you crept closer, straining to hear the other end of the conversation.

”...I know, I know,” Charles continued, his voice growing even more frantic. ”But I can't keep doing this. It's not fair to her, and it's not fair to you.”

Your blood ran cold at his words. What did he mean, ‘not fair to her?’ And who the fuck was he talking to?

Before you could process it all, Charles abruptly ended the call and turned to find you standing in the doorway, your eyes wide with shock and hurt.

”Y/N,” he started, his voice wavering as he took in your expression. ”I... I didn't realize you were there.”

You struggled to find your voice, your mind racing with a thousand questions. ”Who were you talking to, Charles?” you managed to choke out, your voice barely above a whisper.

Charles' eyes flickered with guilt as he shifted uncomfortably under your gaze. ”It's... it's nothing, Y/N,” he stammered, but you could tell he was lying. ”Just a friend.”

But you weren't buying it. Not after what you had just heard. ”A friend?” you repeated, your voice rising with anger and hurt. ”Is that what you call my replacement?”

Charles' face paled at your accusation, his eyes widening in shock. ”Baby, it's not what you think,” he protested, but you could hear the desperation in his voice. He looked so scared, as if he knew he was gonna get caught up into lies.

”Then what is it, Charles?” you demanded, your voice trembling with emotion. ”Enlighten me.”

He hesitated, his gaze flickering away from yours as if unable to meet your eyes. ”It's... it's complicated,” he finally admitted, but his words offered little comfort.

”There's nothing complicated about cheating on someone you claim to love.” You were trying to compose yourself, not show him how deeply his words had cut you but your hands were trembling and your voice was cracking. Face pale and eyes glassy.

Charles winced at your words, his guilt written plainly across his face. ”You’re the only person I love,” he insisted, his voice barely above a whisper. ”It's just... things got out of hand.”

You felt like you had been punched in the gut. How could he stand there and try to justify his betrayal? How could he expect you to forgive him after this? Why the fuck was he the one looking distort?

”I trusted you, Charles,” you choked out, tears welling in your eyes. He shouldn’t be expecting you to treat him as a victim too when he was the one guilty. ”I thought we had something special.”

Charles' expression softened, his eyes brimming with remorse. ”We do, Y/N,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. ”I love you, more than anything. Please, you have to believe me.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by his infidelity. ”How can I believe anything you say after this?” You scoffed bitterly. Angry at yourself for crying in front of the man who has probably been sleeping with someone else for months now.

Charles reached out to you, his hand trembling as he brushed a tear from your cheek. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N,” he pleaded, his voice filled with desperation. ”Just give me a chance to prove it.”

You whispered, your voice heavy with resignation,”There are no second chances for cheaters.”

Lando Norris

Because of multiple torments inflicted by past lovers, you were always resistant to fall head first in any relationship. Hesitant to give your heart knowing recovering was going to be the absolute worst.

Comes in, Lando. The man who broke through all your barriers, took down the walls you put around yourself and had you love struck in a matter of time.

For a moment, everything was amazing. He was the best person you could've asked for. He looked at you as if you put the stars up in the sky.

Who could've thought?

Who could've thought that the same fucking man would have you breaking down at a family event in front of everyone.

The room buzzed with conversation as you sat at the dinner table, trying to ignore the growing tension in the air.

Lando's hand found yours under the table, his thumb tracing soothing circles on your palm. ”Are you okay?” he whispered, concern etched in his voice.

You forced a smile, nodding faintly. ”Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed,” you murmured, hoping to brush off your unease. Why was everyone looking at you with such pity?

But Lando's gaze remained fixed on you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. ”You know you can talk to me, right?” he said softly, squeezing your hand gently.

Before you could respond, a sudden hush fell over the room, drawing your attention to the commotion across the room. You followed Lando's gaze, your heart sinking as you saw him make eye contact with one of your cousins, their faces morphing as if they were having a whispered conversation.

”What's going on?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as dread coiled in the pit of your stomach.

You have seen this scene before and you did not like where this was going. Feeling overwhelmed, you got up and excused yourself from the table. Slightly glad to have Lando do the same.

This was all a confusion. You repeated in your head before standing outside the venue, away from distressed eyes and hushed gossips.

Lando's grip on your hand tightened, his expression unreadable as he turned to face you. ”I... I need to talk to you,” he said, his voice strained with emotion.

Your heart plummeted as you watched him fidget, every step feeling like a weight bearing down on your chest. ”What is it?” you asked, your voice trembling with apprehension.

Lando hesitated, his eyes darting away from yours as if unable to meet your gaze. ”I... I don't know how to say this,” he began, his voice faltering.

Just then, your cousin appeared at his side, her expression a mix of guilt and defiance. ”Y/N, we need to talk,” she said, her voice tinged with remorse.

They exchanged another glance and something in your mind stopped working.

Your breath caught in your throat as the pieces of the puzzle fell into place, the truth hitting you like a sledgehammer to the chest. ”No...” you whispered, the word barely a breath as tears welled in your eyes.

Lando reached out to you as you took a step away from them, his voice a desperate plea. ”Please, let me explain,” he begged, his eyes brimming with regret.

But you pulled away, the sting of deceit too raw and painful to bear. ”Not you too,” you choked out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”How could you do this to me?”

There were no answers, no explanations that could erase the pain of their breach of trust. They both just watched as you started crying softly. Apparently everyone in your family knew too.

As tears welled in your eyes, Lando's pleading voice cut through the air. ”Y/N, please, just give me a chance to explain.” His hand reached out towards you, but you recoiled, his touch now feeling like a betrayal.

”Explain what?” you retorted, your voice laced with disbelief. ”That you cheated on me with my cousin?”

Lando's eyes widened in panic but instead your cousin's voice broke through the tension, filled with regret. ”Y/N, I'm so sorry. It was a mistake, it shouldn't have happened.”

Anger surged within you at her words. ”Sleeping with my fucking boyfriend was a mistake?” you shot back, incredulous at the audacity of her apology.

Lando stepped forward, his expression a mix of remorse and longing. ”I never meant to cause you any pain, Y/N. Please believe me,” he pleaded, his voice trembling with emotion.

Your trust had shattered along with your heart. 

His voice quivered as he spoke again, desperation lacing his words. ”I love you, Y/N. I made a stupid mistake, but it doesn't change how I feel about you.”

But love now felt like a distant memory, tarnished by their adultery.

”If this is love, I want no part of it,” you declared, your voice filled with anguish. Knowing deep down that you meant it.

Your cousin reached out to you, her eyes brimming with tears. ”Y/N, please, you have to understand...” But understanding felt beyond your reach, lost in a sea of pain and betrayal.

”Understand what?” you cried out, your voice breaking with emotion. ”That my own sister betrayed me with my… my boyfriend?”

Lando's plea echoed in the air, his voice thick with desperation. ”I'll do anything to make it up to you, Y/N. Just give me a chance.”

But the chance had already been squandered, lost in the wreckage of their infidelity.

”You had your chance, Lando, and you blew it.” You wish you could be angry and put them to their places but your chest was hurting so much that it was almost dizzy.

You felt sick and on the verge of passing out.

”I'll do anything to make things right, Y/N. Just tell me what to do.” But there was nothing they could do to undo the damage that had been done, no words or actions that could mend the broken pieces of your heart.

They have insulted you in front of your whole family.

”There's nothing you can do to fix this, Lando. You've ruined everything,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper as you turned away, the weight of their betrayal too heavy to bear.

As you walked away, their voices faded into the background, drowned out by the deafening roar of your own heartbreak. And as you stumbled out into the night, the stars above offering no solace, you vowed never to let anyone break you again.

( writing masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

[impeakcharacterdesign]

Just the Tip

— Thomas Hewitt x Fem!Reader —

MDNI!!!

Summary: It’s the 1960s and Luda Mae frowns upon premarital sex like any good Christian woman. You and Tommy are young, hot, and in love but the only problem is that Tommy was raised to wait until marriage and never lets you two go any further than kissing and some groping.

But the devil lives in the hot Texan sun and even God takes a break from the summer heat.

Notes: this is super short, just pure smut, self indulgent I’m obsessed with big boy Tommy 😭😭😭 i swear I’m working on part 2 of my sister Sinclair fic but Tommy has me in a choke hold and I needed an outlet.

No TW that I can think of other than bad smut and maybe ??? Coercion??? Cause Tommy wants to be a good boy and stop before y’all go too far but you flash him and then he’s absolutely 100% in. A bit of religious stuff, period typical sexism but vaguely. Let me know if I should add anything else and I’ll get right on it. Reader isn’t ever referred to using “she/her” pronouns but is described as having breasts and does have female genitalia so I tagged it fem reader to be safe

Enjoy!!!

The early morning sun burned, chasing away what little cool air remained of the night before. While the barn shaded you from the unforgiving sun and hid you from disapproving eyes — or lecherous in the case of the older men of the family — it also trapped in the heat your two bodies gave off.

Thomas pressed his open mouth to your own, tongue swiping over your teeth eager to taste you. Your hands gripped his dark hair, ruining any half-effort attempt he had made earlier in the day to smooth down his unruly hair. He held you in his arms, body pressed tightly against him in an attempt to get as close as possible, his large frame hiding you even further from prying eyes than the shadowed corners of the old barn. The kiss was deep and hungry and served as a brief respite from Luda Maes ever watching eyes. While she had been fine with you living with the family before you and Tommy were married, she forbade you from sharing a room or being intimate, a rule she absolutely refused to budge on and one that Uncle Charlie took a strange glee in ribbing you about. But much like the Texan heat, the heated looks you gave each other were unavoidable and only grew hotter as the summer days went on. Luda Mae wanted to wait until the following spring to make your union official but at the rate the town was drying up, there wouldn't even be a priest to officiate the ceremony, much less any guest to attend. You highly doubted anyone outside of the family would want to witness your union anyway but still, Luda Mae didn't want the few who would to get wise and start counting months.

These stolen moments in the barn were as good as you could get — and by god were they good.

Tommy’s large hands groped at your breasts, pawing roughy at your nipples through the worn fabric of your old dress. It wasn’t long before you found yourself in the familiar position of being sprawled out on the barn floor, coarse hay a discomfort you had long learned to endure for the sake of pleasure.

You desperately thrust your sex up onto his growing bulge, whining when he groaned and pinned your hips with his own, preventing you from getting your desired stimulation. “Please Tommy,” you beg, lips separating, “We don’t have to do too much, I just wanna touch you.” You press open-mouthed kisses to his neck, pulling softly at the flesh with your teeth and tongue dragging across the bites to taste the salt on his skin. Your hands eagerly worked to untuck his faded green shirt and wrap around him, roaming the vast expanse of his back. His whole body shuddered in your arms, an attempt to hold back from eating you whole.

You know Thomas will put an end to your romp soon, the tense lines of his shoulders and the way he shuts his eyes a sign that he's reaching his limit, that if you two don't stop now you won't be able to stop — but that’s exactly what you want.

You're tired of holding back, of this constant edging you have to endure when you’re in his presence and it gets harder every day. Just yesterday afternoon, Uncle Charlie sprayed Tommy with the hose, telling him that he was filthy and needed to get out of those clothes before he went inside. Watching as he undressed by the back door so that you could put his clothes on the line to dry had nearly given you a heatstroke — and if Charlie’s leering grin was any clue, you swear he did it on purpose in an attempt to rile you up. You ran off before you sinned right there in the yard, the memory of Thomas's shirt clinging to his arms, his chest glistening with water had kept you company well into the night.

So before Tommy puts a stop to your roll in the hay you make your move. You lift your dress up past your breast and expose yourself to him, you can see his breath stutter in his chest, this was quickly becoming the farthest you two had ever gone.

“Just watch me, Tommy, watch me,” you say breathlessly.

And he does, he sits on his haunches like a predator, his engorged cock straining against his pants and imagining just a taste has your tongue darting out to wet your lips, his gaze fixated on the movement.

Sliding your panties off your legs, your fingers dip briefly into your wet hole, gathering slick to rub onto your clit. At the very first touch, you let out a shuddering breath and you watch as his shoulders heave.

You begin rubbing your clit at an intense pace already turned on from the earlier heavy petting, not once breaking eye contact with Thomas as you do. With each moan you muffle you see his eyes grow darker with desire breathing with his mouth open as though he could taste your scent in the air. When he finally lets his cock spring free you let out your loudest moan yet. It’s better than you ever thought. His cock is thick and heavy, drooping slightly under its own weight but still undeniably firm. It curves slightly and you imagine that if it was inside you it would scrape against your walls in a way you've never been able to do with just your fingers.

Thomas grips his cock firmly and gives it a few tugs, eyes alternating between hungrily drinking in the sight of your blissed-out expression and your dripping pussy. You buck your hips, desperate to press your clit against your fingers and Thomas jerks his length even faster, rubbing his tip and spreading his precum on his hand.

God, you wished it was you that was touching him.

Thomas settles onto his knees and after a brief hesitation begins to shuffle closer to you. The sight of him crawling to you on his knees with his dripping length in hand made your pussy clench around nothing and you let out a whimper. You remove your fingers from your clit, feeling the heat radiating from his cock as he settles on top of you, legs spreading around his waist, your hips slightly raised and resting on his thighs.

The tip hesitantly pressed against your clit and your moan fills the small space before you can suppress it. This was better than you were hoping and it felt as though you were pressing against the boundaries the lord had set for you. Tommy’s eyes find yours looking for reassurance, asking without words, “Do you think this is okay?”

You find enough comprehension in your lust-addled brain to come up with a coherent answer, “It should be fine, I think,” you stammer out, “I mean, it’s not like — not like you’re putting it in so, it should be fine.”

You’re not overly familiar with the word of God outside of Sunday services and Luda Mae’s lectures, both of which you were forced to attend and spent tuning out in favor of watching the sweat build on Tommy’s brow while he worked through the window.

You think that if God could feel the weight of Thomas like you did, feel the heat like you could, you think he’d forgive the sin of your act.

It seems like that was all the reassurance that Thomas needed because no sooner than the words fumbled their way out of your mouth that he begins to drag the length of his cock against your slit.

God, if this is what hell was supposed to be like, burning and full of decadence, then perhaps you didn’t mind being a sinner.

The way he ruts against you is euphoric. Heavy breaths escape you both and you can’t help the words that spill from your lips.

“God, Tommy, I wish you would put it inside me,” you whine out “‘wanna feel your fat cock in my pussy, wanna get filled,” you might as well be begging at this point, and Tommy's increases his pace to the point that you think he wants the same thing, that he’s desperate to thrust into you rather than against you and —

And then the tip of his cock catches on your entrance and you both stop breathing.

“Maybe — Maybe it doesn’t count.” You stammer out, “It didn’t go in and it’s just the tip, and I don’t think that the tip counts” With the slightest twitch of his hips the tip of his cock has slipped inside.

"It's - it's just the tip it's fine” Your words sound empty even to you but the reassurance is all Tommy needs to push forward and let the head of his cock slide into your welcoming heat

His soul nearly leaves his body when he feels your raw pussy on the head of his cock. He jerks his length furiously and your fingers begin to move against your clit again, eager to meet your high with Thomas.

But it’s not enough. He was right there, right there just one push of his hips he’d be right where you needed him

“Please Tommy” Canting your hips slightly so the tip begins to dig deeper into you, you begin to plead once more, “wanna feel you fill me up, wanna remember the shape of your cock please”

Thomas feels years of control break at your words and with one swing of his hips, he bottoms out instantly. You feel like you've been punched in the gut as the air rushes out of you and you let out a sound like a wounded animal. Tommy stays still deep inside you, shaking and heaving, absolutely drunk on the feeling of your soaked walls clenching vigorously around his length.

You feel full in a way you've never thought possible. His length throbs, its girth stretching you in a way that burns.

When he finally starts thrusting, you’re not ready. He’s like a man possessed, solely focused on the feel of you around him, your skin pressed against his, his blood pounding in his ears.

“Wait— Tommy, ah, slow — slow down, oh god!” You can’t hold back your moans and he can’t stop, both fully engrossed in the feel of each other with no control over your own lust. Thomas crashes his lips onto yours in a halfhearted attempt to keep down your moans, it’s sloppy, clashing teeth and drooling tongues, spit escaping your lips, unlike any you’ve shared before.

This is completely different from what you’ve imagined your first time together would be like. It’s not your wedding night, you're laying on the dirty barn floor and there’s absolutely nothing gentle about the way Tommy is ravaging you. Your pussy is sopping wet and with every thrust, it lets out an embarrassing squelch, your juices and Tommy’s pre-cum leak down your ass and make a sticky mess in his dark pubes.

He doesn’t stop even as your walls spasm around him, cumming on his cock and digging your nails into his strong back. He works you through your orgasm even as your mouth clumsily forms the words to beg for him to slow down or to give you a moment. It’s too much, the sensations completely overloading your brain and all you can do is hold on tightly to him, lost in the ecstasy of your release.

Thomas lets out a deep, guttural groan as he cums, hips stuttering as he bullies his fat cock into the deepest part of your sex, filling you to the brim and your vision goes white.

Boneless, neither one of you makes a move to separate from the other, so thoroughly satisfied and content to lie where you are holding each other, Thomas’s softening cocking slipping out of you and spilling his release onto the ground.

His weight on you is comforting, you gently press kisses to his face and bask in the way his heavy breaths caress your sweaty skin.

“I love you.” You whisper into the shell of his ear and he squeezes you against him, repeating the words in his garbled voice the best he could. Your love is just for the two of you, no one else had a place in your world, no one else had the right to peak in on your affection or gawk at your differences.

This moment in time was just for the two of you.

“Thomas! Where the hell are ya, boy!”

Well, until Uncle Charlie’s voice brought you back down to reality.

[pucksandpower]

Used to be Mine

Oscar Piastri x Reader

Arthur Leclerc x ex!Reader

Summary: Oscar stole everything from Arthur … his hopes, his dreams, his family name, and you

Arthur slumps in the hard chair across from Jock Clear’s desk, the Ferrari Driver Academy director’s words echoing in his mind. “I’m very sorry Arthur, but we’ve decided not to renew your contract for next season. You’ll be released from the program at the end of this year.”

Arthur feels like he’s been punched in the gut. This can’t be happening. He’s poured his heart and soul into racing for Ferrari’s junior program for years. His dream has always been to follow in his older brother Charles’ footsteps and race for the Scuderia in Formula 1.

“But … why?” Arthur manages to choke out. “I know my results this season haven’t been that great but fifteenth in the F2 standings-”

Clear shakes his head solemnly. “Your pace and racecraft simply haven’t developed at the rate we need to see to justify keeping you in the program, Arthur. I know how hard you’ve worked, but there are other young talents coming up behind you showing greater potential.”

The word “potential” hits Arthur like a dagger. Ever since he was a kid, that’s what he’s heard over and over — unfavorable comparisons to Charles’ unlimited potential. He always knew his big brother was special behind the wheel, but he’d clung to the hope that he could make it to F1 through sheer hard work and determination if not raw talent.

Clearly that hope was misguided. Arthur feels the sting of failure wash over him.

“I … I understand,” he forces out, struggling not to break down in tears right there. “Thank you for the opportunity.”

He stands up shakily, the room spinning. He needs to get out of here.

The drive back to his family’s home in Monaco is a blur. Arthur’s mind races, years of sacrifice and struggle swirling in his head. Endless days and nights on the simulator. Grueling hours in the gym, pushing his body to its limits. Tormenting himself over endless data traces, looking for even a tenth of a second to gain an edge.

All for nothing. The harsh truth is he’ll never be good enough. No matter how hard he tries, the Leclerc name will always belong to Charles. Arthur will be forever known as his little brother, the one who couldn’t quite cut it.

He slams his fist against the steering wheel, angry tears now streaming down his face. Why did he ever think he could do this? Why didn’t he just pursue something, anything else with his life? He’s wasted years chasing an impossible dream, and now he has nothing to show for it.

His phone rings, almost slipping out of his trembling hands before he can answer. It’s you.

“Y/N ...” Arthur chokes out, trying and failing to hold back his sobs.

“Arthur? Oh my god, what’s wrong?” You ask, panic in your voice even through the tinny speaker. Of course you can sense something is desperately wrong. You’ve always been there for him, the one person who truly understands what he’s been going through.

Arthur can barely get the words out between ragged breaths. “The … the FDA ... they’re releasing me ... it’s over ...”

There’s stunned silence on the other end of the line.

“Arthur, I ...” You trail off, at an uncharacteristic loss for words. You know how much this has meant to him. How much of himself he’s given to this endeavor. “I’m coming over right now, okay? Don’t do anything stupid. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

You hang up before Arthur can respond. He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Part of him wants to wallow in despair alone. But mostly he’s grateful you’re coming. He’s not sure he can handle this by himself right now.

Sure enough, you burst through the front door only a few minutes later. Arthur has collapsed on the couch, head in his hands as the tears continue to flow.

“Oh Arthur ...” You sit down beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him into an embrace. He turns and buries his face in your shoulder, no longer trying to hold anything back as ragged sobs wrack his body.

You just hold him, making soft hushing sounds and stroking his hair. You’ve seen him distraught before — after tough losses or crashes. But never quite like this. This is the cry of someone whose dreams have been shattered.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Arthur’s sobs begin to subside into hitching breaths. You grab a tissue box from the end table and hand it to him.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, blowing his nose loudly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I just … I don’t know what to do. What am I going to do now?”

You take his hand and give it a squeeze. “First, you’re going to breathe. This isn’t the end of the world, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

Arthur lets out a shaky exhale, trying to calm himself. You always have been the level-headed one. He leans back against the couch cushions, keeping your hand grasped tightly in his.

“I really thought I could make it, you know?” He says quietly. “I’ve given everything to this stupid dream ever since I was a kid. But I’ll never be good enough, will I? Not like Charles.”

You open your mouth to protest, but Arthur barrels on, unable to contain years of self-doubt and insecurity any longer.

“Don’t try to argue. We both know it’s true. Charles was always the special one. The one with the generational talent. I was just … there. Doing my best to keep up, but always a step behind no matter how hard I worked.”

You shake your head vehemently. “Arthur, that’s not true at all. You’re an incredible driver. Your work ethic and determination are-”

“Meaningless without the talent,” Arthur interrupts bitterly. “That’s all that matters in the end. And I don’t have it, not like Charles does. I’m just … normal. Ordinary. That’s why Ferrari has moved on.”

You move closer, taking Arthur’s face in your hands so he has to look you in the eye. “You listen to me, Arthur Leclerc. You are anything but ordinary, understand? You’ve accomplished more by the age of 23 than most people could dream of in their entire lives. Making it all the way to F2 and the Ferrari Driver Academy is incredible, no matter what happens next.”

Arthur tries to turn away, but you keep his gaze locked, your voice rising in intensity. “If you were ordinary, you wouldn’t have been able to push yourself so hard for so long. Ordinary people would have given up a long time ago. It’s your extraordinary drive and passion that have taken you this far.”

Tears are welling up in your eyes now. You can’t stand to see him diminishing himself like this.

“Besides,” you add, managing a small smile. “I may be biased, but I’ve always thought you were the most extraordinarily kind, caring, and hilarious person I know. That’s a kind of specialness in itself, you know.”

Arthur lets out a choked laugh, wiping at his eyes again. Leave it to you to know just what to say to raise his spirits, even a little. “You always have been weirdly good at these pep talks.”

“Well, someone has to keep your head from getting too big,” you quip back with a grin.

Arthur mock-gasps in feigned offense. “Why, you little ...”

He lunges at you, starting to mercilessly tickle your sides. You squeal with laughter, trying in vain to fight back as you quickly devolve into a giggling, flailing mess of limbs.

You’ve been reduced to teary hiccups when Arthur finally relents, allowing you both to catch your breath. He throws an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“You’re the best,” he murmurs softly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You rest your head against his shoulder contentedly. “Let’s just take things one day at a time for now, okay? We’ll figure out what’s next together, like we always have.”

Arthur nods, feeling a deep sense of gratitude and love for his girlfriend. No matter what curveballs life has thrown your way, you’ve always supported and uplifted each other. He knows that won’t change, even if his racing dreams don’t pan out.

“Together,” he echoes, giving your hand one more tight squeeze. Whatever the future holds, he can get through it with you by his side.

Maybe his path won’t lead to Formula 1 after all. Arthur feels a pang of sadness and disappointment at that realization. But as long as he has his family — has you — to lean on, he knows he’ll be okay. That love and support is what has always truly mattered most, not chasing some impossible dream.

“You know, we should see if Charles wants to come over later,” Arthur says, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I haven’t roasted his abysmal fashion sense in way too long.”

You burst out laughing at that. Only Arthur could find his way back to laughing and joking so soon after having his world turned upside down. It’s just one of the many things you admire about him.

“Oh my god, yes please,” you reply once you’ve caught your breath. “His outfit at the last race was literally a crime against humanity. Someone needs to intervene before he traumatizes us all again.”

The two of you spend the next little while cheerfully trading escalating insults about his big brother’s admittedly questionable clothing choices. The mood has lightened considerably, at least for now.

Arthur knows the sting of his failure will return, the questions about what he should do next weighing heavily. But you’ll be there for those hard moments too, just like always. As long as he has you — his best friend, his other half — he can face any challenge life throws his way.

The uncertain road ahead is daunting. But Arthur meets it with determination burning in his eyes. If he couldn’t make it as a Formula 1 driver, he’ll simply have to find a new dream to chase. A new mountain to climb. Whatever it is, he knows you’ll be alongside him every step of the way.

***

Six Months Later

The roar of the engines fades as the cars return to the pits after qualifying. Arthur can’t tear his eyes away from the timing screens:

1. C. LECLERC

2. O. PIASTRI

A Leclerc front row lockout at their home race. Except one of them isn’t really a Leclerc at all.

“Nice one, Piastri-Leclerc!” One of the McLaren mechanics calls out as Oscar climbs from his car.

Arthur’s gut twists.

Oscar just grins and plays along. “Thanks, it’s all in the family name!”

A few of the Ferrari mechanics chuckle at that as Charles emerges from his own car, beaming. He pulls Oscar into a hug. “A Leclerc one-two in Monaco, who would have thought?”

“There’s just something about being a local,” Oscar laughs. “Thank you for giving me yet another home race.”

You appear then, throwing your arms around Oscar with a squeal. “My two favorite Leclercssss!”

Arthur has to look away, his face burning. He knows he has no right to be jealous. Oscar is one of his best friends. And you … you made your choice a long time ago.

“Arthur?” Fred Vasseur appears at his side. “You okay?”

Arthur forces a smile. “Yeah, all good. Just … focused.”

“No need to be so tense,” Fred squeezes his shoulder. “You did a great job in the sim this week. That data helped Charles and Carlos a ton.”

“Glad I could help,” Arthur says automatically.

But his gaze is drawn back to where you’re still hugging Oscar tightly. You look so happy, so carefree. It wasn’t that long ago that your smiles were for him.

“You know,” Fred says conversationally. “I’m getting a lot of questions about what you’ll decide to do next. Every time you’re in that sim or out on track-”

“I’m fine being test driver,” Arthur interrupts, maybe a little too brusque. “Really, I am.”

Fred studies him for a beat. “If you’re sure. Just saying, the doors are opening ...”

The team principal moves off then, leaving Arthur alone with his swirling emotions. He can’t get swept up in maybes about his future. Not when his past is standing right there, laughing at some joke Oscar made.

You’d think after all this time, the sight of you wouldn’t affect him so much. You broke his heart so thoroughly when you ended things, he didn’t think there were any pieces left to shatter. But here he is, a mess of jealousy and longing, just because you gave Oscar a hug.

“Arthur! There you are!”

He turns at the sound of your voice. You’re hurrying towards him, Oscar and Charles trailing behind with indulgent smiles.

“We’re going to get some dinner if you want to join?” You ask brightly.

He has to swallow hard before he can speak past the lump in his throat. “I … don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is!” You grab his arm, utterly oblivious to his discomfort. “We’re all friends here, right?”

“Some of you were a bit more than friends once upon a time,” Charles points out with a wicked grin.

You shove him playfully. “Oh shut up!”

Arthur feels like he’s being stabbed in the heart. Your break up turned his life upside down. Hearing you joke about it so casually now is excruciating.

“Seriously, Arthur,” Oscar cuts in. “Come celebrate with us. We promise not to get too crazy.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Arthur tries again, harsher this time.

You frown, tilting your head in confusion. “Why not? I thought we were all past the whole ex thing?”

“I am,” he lies through gritted teeth. “I just … have some stuff to work on for the race tomorrow.”

“Oh come on,” you wheedle, giving him that smile that used to make him melt. “Take a break! Live a little!”

Arthur can’t take much more of this. He needs to get out of here before he says something he’ll regret. Or worse, does something stupid like pull you into his arms and kiss you senseless.

“Seriously you guys, I’ve got work,” he says, forcing himself to take a step back from you. “I’ll … catch up with you later, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for a response, just turns on his heel and stalks away. He can’t bear to see the hurt, confused look on your face.

Why did he think this would be okay? That he could spend day after day around you and it wouldn’t still hurt? Every smile, every laugh, every touch you bestow on Charles and Oscar is like a white hot poker in his chest.

He thought he was over you. He really did. It’s been months since you ended things, months since you shattered what was left of his heart into a million pieces.

He’d been so shocked, so heartbroken, that all he could do was sit there numbly as you walked out of his apartment. When he finally found his voice, hours had passed, and you were long gone.

“But I love you,” he’d whispered into the empty room.

He’d been so sure you felt the same. That what you had was forever. But you made your choice, as simple as that. Arthur never came first.

And now, half a year later, here he is. Living out some twisted version of his dream … but only just. A test driver for Ferrari instead of a race driver like he always imagined. Like Charles, who had achieved everything they both wanted.

Arthur leans back against the wall of the cool, dark room he’s found himself in. It feels like the pain of your rejection is never going to stop haunting him. Like no matter how much time passes, it will never be enough to make up for losing you.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying and failing to block out the memory of your face, your smile, your laugh. All the moments of pure joy you two had shared. The dreams you’d whispered to each other late at night, tangled in the sheets.

Is this his lot in life from now on? To watch you move on, all smiles and teasing jokes with Oscar and Charles? To see everyone welcoming Oscar into the family while Arthur is shut out in the cold?

He’s startled from his spiraling thoughts by a knock at the door. “Arthur? You in there?”

It’s Charles. Arthur flinches, swiping a hand over his eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” he calls back, grateful that his voice doesn’t shake.

There’s a pause. “Can I come in?”

Arthur considers sending his brother away. He’s in no state for a heart-to-heart right now.

But he can’t bring himself to refuse Charles. Not when they’ve been through so much together, from the karting tracks of their childhood to the highest levels of motorsport.

“Yeah, okay.”

The door opens and Charles slips inside. He stops short when he sees Arthur, brow furrowing in concern.

“Hey … you okay?”

Arthur can’t even find it in himself to fake it. He just shakes his head mutely.

“Is this about Y/N?” Charles asks gently.

And just like that, the dam breaks. Arthur squeezes his eyes shut again, but he can’t stop the tears from spilling over.

“I thought I was over her. I really did,” he chokes out. “But seeing her with Oscar … celebrating like that ...”

Strong arms wrap around him then, pulling him into a hug. Arthur goes boneless, sagging against his older brother as the sobs take over.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Charles murmurs. “Let it out.”

Arthur does. He cries and cries, shoulders shaking, as months of pent-up heartache pour out of him. Charles just holds him through it, rubbing soothing circles across his back.

“I’m s-sorry,” Arthur finally gasps out. “I’m being so stupid ...”

“You’re not stupid,” Charles says firmly. “Love isn’t stupid, Arthur. Especially your first real heartbreak. That shit hurts like hell.”

Arthur lets out a watery chuckle, finally pulling back and swiping at his eyes. “How do you always know exactly what to say?”

“Well, I am the wise older brother,” Charles grins. Then he sobers, studying Arthur carefully. “Seriously though … you know Y/N loved you, right? What you two had was real.”

“I know.” Arthur shakes his head. “Doesn’t make it any easier seeing her move on so quickly.”

“She’s not over you either,” Charles says gently. “That’s why she keeps trying so hard to act like everything is normal between you two.”

Arthur scoffs. “Could’ve fooled me with all the cuddling up to Oscar out there.”

“Oh come on, you know that’s just a joke,” Charles says with a roll of his eyes. “Oscar is like family to us, same as you. That’s all it is.”

“Yeah? Well it didn’t look that way to me.”

“Arthur ...” Charles puts a hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to have an actual conversation with Y/N. Clear the air once and for all. This lingering stuff is only going to keep eating you up inside.”

“What if she really has moved on?” The thought is like a vise around Arthur’s heart. “What if she tells me she’s dating Oscar for real or something?”

“Then at least you’ll know,” Charles says simply. “It will hurt, yeah. But not knowing, constantly wondering … that’s so much worse. Trust me.”

Arthur is quiet for a long moment, turning Charles’ words over in his mind. Maybe his brother is right. Maybe it’s time to rip off the bandaid once and for all.

He nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll ... I’ll talk to her.”

“Good.” Charles pulls him in for another hug. “No matter what happens, you’ve got me, okay? We Leclercs need to stick together.”

Arthur manages a small smile at that, feeling just a bit lighter. “Yeah. We do.”

As he follows Charles out of the room, he catches sight of you across the paddock, laughing at something Oscar said. A familiar ache blooms in his chest.

But this time, he doesn’t run from it. This time, he’s going to face it head on. His heart may end up in even more pieces … or maybe, just maybe, it will finally start to mend.

Either way, at least he’ll know. No more lingering what ifs. Just the truth, whatever it may be.

He takes a deep, steadying breath, then starts making his way towards you.

***

Arthur’s steps falter as he rounds the corner of the McLaren garage. There you are with Oscar, bodies intertwined, lips locked in a heated kiss.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from Arthur’s lungs. He can’t breathe, can’t think. He just … freezes, rooted to the spot, watching in numb horror as the two of you make out shamelessly right there in the open.

This can’t be happening. It has to be some kind of twisted nightmare. But no matter how hard he blinks, the scene before him doesn’t change.

You and Oscar are really kissing. Properly sucking face like loved-up teenagers, hands roaming over each other greedily. Oscar has you backed up against the garage wall, bodies pressed flush together from chest to thigh.

Arthur feels like he’s going to be sick.

Finally, mercifully, you two break apart, foreheads pressed together as you both gasp for air. Arthur should look away, he knows he should, but he can’t seem to make himself move.

“So much for keeping it professional in the paddock, huh?” You murmur, voice husky.

Oscar lets out a breathless chuckle. “Who cares about professional? Not when I’ve got you all to myself for once.”

He leans in to kiss you again, but you put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “We should find somewhere more private if we’re gonna keep this up.”

“My driver’s room?” Oscar suggests, already palming at the small of your back.

You shiver, pushing up onto your tiptoes to brush your lips against his jaw. “Lead the way, Piastri-Leclerc.”

And just like that, you’re gone, disappearing into the depths of the McLaren garage, hands roaming and giggling like lovesick fools. Arthur watches until the door swings shut behind you, cutting off that haunting sound of your laughter.

Then he’s moving without conscious thought, staggering back around the corner and out of sight. His back hits the cool concrete wall with a thud, but he barely notices. Barely notices anything except the ragged, gasping breaths being torn from his lungs.

He doubles over, hands braced on his knees as he struggles not to vomit right there in the paddock. It feels like someone has driven a white hot poker straight through his chest. Like his heart is being crushed into a million pieces all over again.

Oscar and you … together? Actually dating? How … how could you do this to him? To yourself? Everything you two had built together, every future dream you had shared … tossed aside so easily?

Tears burn at the corners of Arthur’s eyes. He wants to scream, to punch a wall, to unleash the searing agony and fury ripping through him. But he can’t make a sound, throat locked up tight with unshed emotion.

He should have known, really. Should have seen this coming. It’s not like you and Oscar were hiding your connection. The loving looks, the inside jokes, that easy intimacy and affection … Arthur had just been too blinded by jealousy and heartbreak to see it.

But to find out like this? To literally walk in on you two wrapped around each other? It’s a whole new level of pain, lancing through him over and over. He’s always imagined that you would have the decency to at least tell him first if you moved on with someone new.

Unless this has been going on for a while already, hidden from him in plain sight. Every laugh, every hug, every teasing comment … was that all a lie to cover up your dirty secret with Oscar?

Arthur’s stomach churns violently again at the thought. He swallows hard, fighting back the nausea. He can’t lose it here, can’t draw any attention to himself. He needs to get it together, block out the image of you and Oscar swapping spit.

Easier said than done when his brain keeps unhelpfully replaying the way Oscar’s hands were roaming over you, groping at you like you belonged to him. And that laugh … god, that beautiful, carefree laughter that Arthur would know anywhere. A sound that used to make his heart soar whenever it was aimed at him.

Now it’s like a knife in his gut to hear you giggling that way with Oscar, no doubt blissed out after a hot and heavy make out session. Arthur’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking furiously. He would give anything not to have walked in on that, not to have that sound burnt into his brain forever.

At least now he knows the truth. The humiliating, gut-wrenching truth that you’ve well and truly moved on from him. And with Oscar of all people, like the ultimate slap in the face.

What kind of cruel joke is this? Arthur wonders, still fighting to steady his ragged breaths. He loses the girl he wanted to spend forever with … only to have one of his mates swoop in and take her from him?

It’s not just you that Oscar has stolen either, Arthur realizes with a sickening jolt. It’s everything. With you on his arm, Oscar is welcomed into the family, called a Leclerc at their home race. Arthur’s own last name, treated like some kind of lighthearted joke while the real thing is ripped away from him.

Oscar even gets Monaco as a home race, just like the actual Leclercs who grew up here. All because of some dumb joke about Charles adopting him. Arthur had laughed along with it at the time, never imagining the underhanded truth.

Oscar Piastri has wormed his way into having everything Arthur wanted more than anything. The career, the family, the girl … all of it, just handed to him on a silver platter.

White hot fury flares in Arthur’s chest, momentarily burning through the heartbreak. How dare Oscar do this to him? How dare he make a mockery out of Arthur’s dreams, out of everything the name Leclerc stands for?

Arthur barely registers that he’s moving until his fist connects with the concrete wall with a sickening crunch. He lashes out again and again, pummeling the unforgiving surface over and over until-

“Arthur! Hey, whoa!”

Suddenly there are hands on him, strong and insistent. Arthur starts, accidentally slamming his abused knuckles into a firm chest as Charles appears, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

“Easy, easy! What the hell are you doing?” Charles meets his gaze, eyes wide with concern.

Arthur blinks dazedly, pain finally registering from his torn up, bleeding knuckles. “I … I didn’t ...”

“What happened?” Charles presses, lowering his voice when Arthur winces. “Did you get into it with someone? Talk to me, please.”

Arthur opens his mouth, fully intending to tell Charles everything. About walking in on your incriminating embrace with Oscar. About the way it felt like his entire world shattered all over again. How Oscar has stolen every single thing that should have been Arthur’s by birthright.

But when he tries to vocalize the words, to unleash the storm of emotions battering him from the inside out … nothing comes out. His throat remains locked up tight, breath wheezing harshly.

Charles is watching him, eyebrows knitted with worry. “You’re really freaking me out here. What’s going on?”

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head helplessly. He feels like he’s drowning, lost in a whirlpool of jealousy and despair that’s slowly suffocating him.

When he opens his eyes again, Charles is still waiting, patient and steady as always. Something in his brother’s calm, anchoring presence helps Arthur regain just a little bit of control. Enough to grit out a few words.

“Oscar. And Y/N.”

That’s all he can manage. But judging by the dawning comprehension on Charles’ face, it’s enough. The older Leclerc lets out a slow breath, gaze turning sympathetic.

“You saw them together,” he says, not a question.

Arthur nods jerkily, jaw locked.

For a long moment, Charles is silent. Taking it all in, no doubt. Then … “I’m so sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur’s breath hitches harshly before he can stop it.

“Hey, hey.” Charles pulls him into a tight hug, tucking Arthur’s head under his chin. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ve got you, little brother.”

Arthur stiffens for just a second before melting into the embrace, squeezing his eyes shut once more. He takes a shuddery breath against Charles’ shirt, then another, just trying to hold himself together.

“I’m here,” Charles murmurs, rubbing his back soothingly. “We’ll get through this together, yeah?”

Arthur doesn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nods against Charles’ shoulder. He clings to his brother like a lifeline, grateful beyond words that Charles is here to anchor him when it feels like his world is crumbling all over again.

He has no idea how long they stay like that, locked in that tight embrace. Long enough for the sharp edges of Arthur’s anguish to dull, at least a little. Long enough for his ragged breaths to even out into something closer to normal.

Finally, Charles gives him one last squeeze before gently pulling back, keeping a firm grip on Arthur’s shoulders.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, eyeing Arthur’s bloodied knuckles with a wince.

Arthur follows his gaze, grimacing at the sight. “Shit, I ...”

“It’s okay,” Charles says quickly, sliding an arm around Arthur’s back. “I’ve got you.”

He guides Arthur through the paddock, shielding him from view with his body. Arthur is grateful for the discretion — the last thing he needs right now is prying eyes and questions about his meltdown.

They make it back to the cool shadows of the Ferrari motorhome without incident. Charles sweeps them into one of the private rooms, locking the door securely behind them.

“There, just us,” he says, squeezing Arthur’s arm reassuringly. “Why don’t you sit down and tell me what happened?”

Arthur sinks down onto the worn sofa, feeling numb and drained. He stares at his mangled hands as Charles darts away, returning a moment later with a first aid kit and a damp cloth.

“This might sting,” Charles warns, taking Arthur’s hands with surprising gentleness.

Arthur barely flinches as his brother starts cleaning away the blood and grit from his torn skin. He’s retreated deep inside his own head, memories from that hellish scene on an endless loop.

You and Oscar, tangled together so intimately. The way you looked at each other, breathless with desire. The easy intimacy and obvious hunger in every heated caress.

Arthur squeezes his eyes shut, but it does nothing to block it out. He’s never going to be able to unsee that, he realizes with a sick lurch. It’s seared into his brain forever, a brand new source of unrelenting torment.

“Arthur?” Charles’ soft voice cuts through his spiraling thoughts. “What happened? Talk to me.”

Arthur blows out a shaky breath, forcing himself to meet his brother’s concerned gaze.

“I went to find Y/N,” he starts in a dull rasp. “To … to get some closure, I guess. Finally rip off the bandaid like you said.”

Charles nods in understanding, staying quiet to let Arthur continue at his own pace.

“But when I turned the corner of the McLaren garage ...” Arthur’s throat works convulsively, the memory surging back in vivid technicolor. “They were there. Making out like a couple of horny teenagers.”

He falls silent again, the words cutting off as a wave of fresh agony washes over him. God, the visual is never going to stop haunting him, is it?

“Oh, Arthur ...” Charles murmurs, squeezing his hands gently. “I’m so sorry.”

Arthur lets out a bitter huff. “Sorry? Don’t be sorry for me, Charles. Be sorry for yourself.”

Charles frowns in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Oscar,” Arthur grits out, white-hot anger flaring once more. “He stole her from me, sure. But he also stole our name. He gets to be a Leclerc now, a mockery of our home streets. Just because you stupidly joked about adopting him.”

He surges to his feet, unable to stay still with all this wrath and hurt burning through him.

“Everything that was supposed to be mine, Charles!” He shouts, prowling the room like a caged animal. “The career, the family, the girl … Oscar has taken it all! With a few laughs and some dumb jokes!”

“Arthur, that’s not fair ...” Charles tries, but Arthur barrels right over him.

“No? Well how about this — let’s see how funny those jokes are when Oscar decides he actually wants to be Charles Leclerc!” Arthur snarls. “He’ll take your career next, you watch! Take away everything that makes you special, everything that’s yours by right!”

“Arthur.” Charles is on his feet now, reaching out to grip Arthur’s shoulders firmly. “Listen to me. You need to calm down, okay? Oscar isn’t trying to take anything from us. He’s our friend!”

“How can you say that?” Arthur demands, anguish cracking through the rage. “Don’t you see what he’s done? What he’s taking from me?”

He’s breathing hard now, vision swimming as tears of mingled fury and heartbreak prick at his eyes.

“That was supposed to be my future, Charles,” he rasps. “Y/N and I … we had plans. Dreams of a life together.”

Arthur swipes angrily at the tear that escapes, blurring his vision. “Oscar doesn’t get to take that from me. He doesn’t get to make it all a mocking joke.”

“Arthur ...” Charles looks stricken now, shaking his head slowly. He pulls Arthur into another fierce hug, tucking the younger man’s head under his chin.

“I’m so sorry,” Charles murmurs, voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry he hurt you like this. You don’t deserve that … any of it.”

Arthur lets out a choked sob against his brother’s shirt, all of the fight abruptly draining from him. He’s just … tired. Wrung out and hollow, aching down to his very core.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to go, Charles,” he whispers brokenly. “Oscar was my friend … how could he do this to me?”

Charles doesn’t seem to have any answers. He just holds Arthur tighter, rocking them gently from side to side as Arthur finally gives in to his emotions. He buries his face in Charles’ shoulder and weeps — for his shattered dreams, his shredded heart, and a future that now feels impossibly out of reach.

As the sobs gradually subside, a final bitter thought takes root in Arthur’s mind. If Oscar is going to steal away the girl Arthur loves, the family he was born into, and the future he had mapped out for himself ... then Arthur hopes to god the Monaco curse falls on Oscar just as harshly as it ever has for a Leclerc.

Maybe then Oscar will finally understand just how much he’s taken from Arthur. How many dreams and pieces of Arthur's very identity he’s carelessly crushed in his quest to make himself a Leclerc on everything but paper.

Arthur’s tears have dried, leaving his cheeks chafed and eyes swollen. But the hollow ache in his chest remains, throbbing in time with his ragged breaths. He stays huddled against Charles, taking what little solace he can from his brother’s presence.

It’s all he has left now. Oscar has snatched away everything else that ever mattered to Arthur. His future, his past, his home ... all of it, gone in a spiral of heated kisses and breathless laughter.

If the cost of having it all is the Monaco curse bearing down on him, then so be it. Arthur finds himself almost hoping Oscar gets everything he so greedily took, the consequences be damned. Maybe then, just maybe, he’ll finally understand an ounce of the anguish and heartbreak he’s inflicted on Arthur.

It’s a dark, vindictive thought, one that makes Arthur's gut twist with shame. But he’d too drained, too devastated to truly care. He just presses closer to Charles, craving the simple comfort of family as reality crushes him from all sides.

His dreams, his heart, his identity ... all stolen by a former friend turned ultimate betrayer. If the Monaco curse is all Arthur has left to cling to, then so be it.

[obsessed-with-stardew]

His Hoodie

You looked cold so Sebastian let you borrow his hoodie, he didn’t know how much he’d like seeing you in it.

Sebastian xF!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names

Wc: 3530

It’s another Friday night at the Stardrop Saloon. You’re in your usual spot, next to Abigail on the couch, in the game room watching Sebastian school Sam at pool like always.

“Top left pocket,” Sebastian calls his final shot.

“No way you can sink that, man!” Sam said.

Sebastian catches your eye as he carefully lines up his shot, and with a wink he sinks the 8-ball.

Sam groans “argh you’re too good, it’s not fair!”

Sebastian chuckles softly, “Fine, fine. Y/n, are you any good at pool?”

“Um I mean I’ve played before but I’ve never claimed to be good… why?” You ask.

“Let’s say I’m evening the playing field,” Seb says with a grin.

“Hey two against one isn’t even,” Sam complains.

“Think of it this way Sam, I’m teaching y/n so if you beat us, you’re beating me and showing what a bad teacher I am.”

“Alright… just this once” Sam says.

The game starts just fine, Seb breaks. Expertly sinking two balls off the bat.

“We’re solids, y/n. That means don’t sink the stripes” Seb teases.

You blush, “I know the basics.”

You asses the table, choosing your path. You lean down, hoping to at least hit the ball. Sebastian’s breath catches. Sure he’s been attracted to you since you first moved into Pelican Town, but seeing your jeans perfectly molded to your ass as you bend over the table… the things he’d do to you if you were alone.

Seb says “Sorry I couldn’t tell you knew which ball to hit by the way you line up your shot” he chuckles. “Here, can I help?”

He leans down behind you. You can feel his breath on your ear ask he skates his hand down your forearm to adjust your hold.

“You gotta grip it a little tighter, you’re in control here,” he whispers into your ear.

It’s only with his body pressed to yours, his hand guiding your own, that you realize how phallic a pool cue can be. He must realize it too, because you feel something firm pressing against your ass.

*cough cough* Sam clears his throat.

“Today you two!” Abigail laughs.

You blush as Sebastian cooly straightens and runs his fingers through his dark hair.

“You got this y/n” he says encouragingly.

You take the shot and make it.

“Woah I actually made it!” You shout, bouncing up and turning to Seb. The joy on your face makes his heart flutter.

Sam sighs, “well this isn’t gonna be as easy as I thought”.

“I’ll grab the next round, you guys keep playing” you say.

After you return with the drinks the game and the jokes flow easily.

You make a few shots and miss a few too, with Seb encouraging or laughing it off with you.

“Middle right!” Sam calls the last ball.

He lines up his shot

He shoots

It misses.

“Oof, tough break bud” Abigail says.

“Awh sorry Sam, looks like it’s not your night,” Seb teases. “Y/n, you’re up.”

You choke on your drink, “Seb I thought it was your turn??”

He smiles at you, “nah, you’ve been doing so well for me. I think you deserve to finish this.”

You try to keep your cool, leaning over the table.

“Just breathe, you got this.” Seb says, it’s meant to be encouraging for you but it doubles as an attempt to control his hard on. The way you’re leaning, he can just glimpse your black lacy bra down your shirt.

“Top left,” you call the pocket.

With Seb’s encouragement warming in your chest, you loose your shot. The tip of the pool cue hits the ball perfectly, sinking the 8-ball right where you wanted it.

“Hey we did it!” You bounce up and pull Sebastian into a hug. He stiffens at the sudden contact and you let go blushing.

“Way to go y/n, now I guess I’ll be bench warming all by my lonesome” Abigail scoffs

“Maybe you should try playing some time Abby,” Sam says.

“Oh fuck off sam, you just want to win for once,” Abigail said.

“Think you can take me??” Sam asks.

Seb leans over towards you, “they could be at this for awhile, want to join me for a smoke break?”

You nod and follow him out of the saloon.

Seb leans against the side of the building, pulls out his pack of cigs and offers one to you.

You take it, happy to have something warm you up on this cool spring night. Seb flicks on his lighter and you lean in to light to up. You look so beautiful in the light from the flame, your eyes hooded, focusing on getting your cig lit then they flicker up at him, catching his gaze. Time slows as his can see your lips wrapped around his cock instead of that dainty cigarette. He blinks, releasing the flame. Relishing that he can hide his blush in the darkness. As he lights his own cig, you fall into a similar daze. Watching his fingers expertly flick on the flame, illuminating his face so full of focus. Your mind drifts to what that focus and those fingers could do to you. The thoughts make you shiver.

“Oh shit, y/n, are you cold?” Sebastian ask.

“Huh? What?” You shake yourself out of your daze.

“Here hold this” he hands you his cigarette and begins to take off his hoodie.

“Oh now you don’t need to…” your words trail off as Sebastian pulls the hoodie over his head. It takes some of his shirt with it, revealing his stomach and a hint of hair at his waist line in the moonlight. You take a drag on your cig to try and refocus yourself.

“Trade me,” Seb says as he holds the hoodie out towards you. Passing him the cigarettes, you pull the hoodie on. It’s still warm and smells like him, a mix of smoke, cedar and something spicy.

“I think our cigs got swapped at some point, this one is maybe yours?” He says handing it back over.

You giggle, “it doesn’t really matter, we were bound to swap saliva eventually.” You say as you lean up against the wall next to him.

He turns to face you, “oh really? And how is that?”

“Oh, um well, you know..” you stammer. “Like sharing drinks and stuff…”

“And stuff?” Seb teases.

You take a drag and blow your smoke in his face, causing him to cough and laugh. You start to laugh too, then Sebastian’s hand grabs your wrist, pulling you to him. With his other hand he tilts your chin up so your eyes meet, he can see the Cherry of his cig reflected in your blown out pupils. A dead giveaway that you want him as much as he wants you.

“Stuff like….” Seb drawls, leaning down to brush your lips with his own. “this?” He murmurs against your mouth just before capturing it with a kiss. You let out a soft moan, as you part your lips to deepen the kiss. You pull lightly on his full bottom lip with your teeth and he lets out a low groan, dropping your wrist and grabbing your waist to pull your body flush against his. Just as you begin to deepen the kiss the door to the saloon swings open and you hear your friends turning the corner. The two of you jump back, sucking desperately at your cigs to try and act natural.

“Oh there you guys are!” Sam says.

“Sam thought you would’ve snuck off to the woods or something,” Abigail laughs.

“Nah, we’re just enjoying the air” Seb says, hoping his voice sounds calm even though his pulse is hammering so hard he’s sure everyone can hear it.

“Yep, love me some air” You say a little breathlessly, shooting Seb a small smile.

Abigail and Sam share a look that says they are all too aware of what they interrupted.

“…anyway, I’m headed home. Seb, you ready to head out?” Abigail asks.

Shit, Sebastian got so swept up in you he completely forgot he’d promised to walk Abby home. She may have a tough exterior, but after her first trip to the mines, the darkness makes her jumpy.

“Yeah, um let me just finish this cig. “ he says.

“Oh, here you probably need this back,” you say, “I know how cold the walk up to the mountains can be.”

You start to wriggle out of his hoodie.

Seb places a hand on your arm, halting you movement. You look up at him.

“I think you need it more than I do tonight,” he says with a small smile.

“Well I’m off,” Sam says. “Bye you guys!”

“Alright Abby, let’s head out.” Seb says, “see ya later Sam… bye y/n.” His hand lingers on your arm for just a moment before he steps back and heads out with Abby.

You sigh, take a final drag on your cigarette and turn for the farm. You’re grateful for the warm hoodie, but you wish it was Seb walking you back to your house. You imagine him pushing you up against the wall the second you walk through the door. kissing you until you’re both panting and breathless. But it’s just you, alone on the farm.

You get ready for bed, keeping the hoodie and the smell of him on your body. As you snuggle into bed, you fantasize the he’s there with you. You grab your breasts and tease your nipples, thinking of his fingers pulling them and his mouth sucking on one and then the other…

~*~meanwhile, outside Abigail’s house~*~

Shit shit shit, Seb thinks. He just realized he left his house key in the pocket of his hoodie. He could wake up Maru or his mom but he always hates how they look at him coming home late, smelling like smoke.

Y/n probably just took the hoodie off when she got home and left it on that coat rack by the door. He could just slip in and grab the key and you wouldn’t have to know.

The thought of sneaking into y/n’s house while she’s asleep gives Seb a dirty thrill. He feels his cock stiffen as his mind floats to naughty thoughts of ways he could wake you up. He was so wrapped up in his fantasy the walk was over before it had begun. The farm really was so peaceful at night, he’d never noticed how beautiful y/n kept it. It’s almost as calming as the lake in the mountains.

“You don’t even know if she likes you like that Seb, stop imagining a life here,” he scolds himself, walking up to the door.

Reaching his hand up to brush the top of the door frame, he finds the key you keep ‘hidden’. Locking the door always makes you feel safe, but you also want your friends to be able to come by anytime they need.

He fits the key into the lock, turns it quietly and slips into the darkness of your home. Pulling out his phone flashlight, Seb searches the coat rack for any sign of the hoodie, with no luck. Maybe you took it off in your bedroom… he quietly walks down the hallway. Hearing a noise, he halts. Was that sound really what he thinks it was? He hears another little whimper.

“Yes, Sebby yes,” you moan quietly.

His heart hammers in his chest and his cock hardens painfully.

“Is this really happening?? Is y/n really touching herself while thinking about me??” Seb thinks.

He palms his hard length through his tight jeans letting out a small hiss of air between his teeth. Before he can stop himself, Seb peers into your bedroom. He sees you, glowing in the moonlight wearing only his hoodie. One hand clutching your breast and the other moving carefully between your legs. You’re so lost in the action, you don’t notice him enter the room.

“Tsk tsk tsk, you’re such a needy girl aren’t you y/n,” Seb says in a low, barely audible voice.

“mmmmm I need you sebby” You moan, thinking his voice was in your head. Wait…. That was most definitely not in your head. Your movement stops and your eyes shoot open to find Sebastian casually leaning against your doorframe.

“Don’t stop on my account sweetheart,” he drawls taking a few steps into the room. “Unless you want some help with that?”

You’re stunned into silence. Is this really happening? You’re open your mouth to reply, but quickly close it. You sit up and grab at your sheets to cover you, praying he can’t see your flushed face in the moonlight.

“Don’t get all shy on me now baby,” Sebastian croons, making his way to the edge of your bed.

“Wha-what are you doing here Seb??” You stammer.

He huffs out a laugh and sits down next to you.

“Awh, what happened to Sebby? I think I like when you moan it out of that pretty little mouth.”

He leans in capturing your lips with his own as his hand reaches into the hoodie pocket.

“Woah wha-?” You pull away with a start as you feel his hand brush your stomach through the fabric. He pulls his hand out and you see something flash between his fingers. A key.

“I realized I left this in there after I got to Abby’s,” Seb says, “And instead of dealing with Maru I figured I’d slip in here and grab the key from the coat rack.”

He twirls the key in his fingers, watching you squirm under the covers. He laughs, “Imagine my surprise to find you wearing only my hoodie while you moan out my name.”

Grabbing your hand, Seb gently guides you to feel his hard bulge through his jeans.

“Ahhh” he sighs at the contact, “See what you do to me y/n?”

You let out a whimper, biting your lip.

“And to find out you’re so needy for me, that’s just an extra treat.” He says, his voice low and gravely.

Sebastian shifts quickly to straddle you, grabbing your wrists with one hand and pinning them above you as he cups your chin with the other.

“How bout you be a good girl and let me take care of you, y/n?”

You nod vigorously and he leans in to press a punishing kiss to your lips. You both moan as he presses his bulge to your dripping pussy. His hands begin to roam your body, grabbing at your breasts and your hips. You reach down to grab the hem of the hoodie but Sebastian grabs your wrist and presses a kiss to it.

“No,” he says, his eyes dark. “Keep it on. I like seeing you in it.”

Your heart flutters and you caress his face.

“Anything for you Sebby,” you say.

At the sound of the nickname falling from your lips, Seb feels himself losing control. He would do anything to hear you cry out his name.

He leans back taking you in, hoodie bunched up around your waist, chest heaving and pussy glistening. All for him. Sebastian knows he should take it slow, savoring and exploring your body. But you’re both so ready any more foreplay would feel like torture.

He crawls out of bed, and unbuttons his pants. You’re practically drooling watching him pull off his dark tshirt and black jeans. Seb’s dark boxer briefs fight to restrain his erection. Then those are on the floor too. His hard cock springs out, and you shudder in a breath looking at him. Have you ever seen a boy as beautiful as Sebastian? His pale skin shining in the moonlight. He slowly strokes his cock, letting you watch him.

“You’re so beautiful Sebby,” you tell him softly.

He huffs out a rough chuckle, “You’re one to talk sweetheart”.

He climbs back on top of you. You pull him down for a kiss, tongues twining as you lose yourselves in the others mouth. You arch your back, pressing your body into him. His cock brushes your soaked pussy. He pulls back from the kiss on shaky arms.

“Are you sure you want to do this y/n? If we do this, I don’t think I can go back. I don’t think we can just be friends anymore. I’ll want all of you.” Sebastian says, looking intently into your eyes.

“Fuck being friends,” you say, “I’ve wanted to be yours since I first saw you.”

He groans, pushing the head of his aching cock between your wet, waiting folds.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that,” Seb says as he eases into you. Just the tip, letting you adjust to the size of him and allowing him to get his bearings so he doesn’t blow this moment by cumming the instant he feels you clench around him.

He takes a shaky breath and continues to push into you, stopping only when he is fully sheathed inside of you.

“Fuck,” Sebastian breathes out. “So good and tight for me aren’t you sweet girl”

You moan and he can feel your walls clench his cock. He pulls out almost to the tip, then slams back into you.

“My good girl, so wet and ready for me” Seb says between thrusts. “You are my good girl aren’t you?” He asks.

You’re so lost in pleasure you don’t register that he’s waiting for a response. Seb reaches out and wraps his long fingers lightly around your throat. Your eyes snap up to his, you’ve never been choked in bed before.

He pushes in all the way then stills “You have to answer me baby.” Seb says, watching you with dark eyes.

“Y-yes, I’m your good girl Sebby,” you murmur, wriggling your hips.

Seb chuckles and applies a little more pressure to your throat. You moan in response and he rewards you by starting to fuck you again in earnest.

“Next time we’ll take things slower baby” he huffs, “I’ll fuck that pretty little mouth of yours.” Seb groans, his pace getting sloppier. “I’ll eat your perfect pussy until you come on my tongue.”

You cry out, eyes closing as you succumb to the pleasure.

“No no baby,” he coos, “I need to see your eyes as you come for me”.

You blink open your eyes, taking in the sight of Seb’s lean frame towering over you. Sebastian’s eyes bore into yours, so full of lust and hunger.

“Seb-sebby,” You moan “I’m gonna cum!”

His intense features break into a grin, “That’s my good girl, cum all over my cock sweetheart”.

And with that Sebastian follows you over the edge, thrusting deep into you as he spills into your pussy. His arms give out and he falls onto your chest with a huff. You giggle, nuzzling his head. Seb jerks a bit, and groans.

“What is it Seb?” You ask.

He lets out a chuckle, “I can feel you laughing”.

You giggle again, and he buries his face in your chest. “It feels good I hope?” You ask.

“Fuck baby, it feels too good,” Seb says looking up at you with a grin.

He pushes back up on he elbows, and with a hiss pulls out of you. You let out a little whine, feeling empty without him inside you.

Seb laughs shaking his head, “You really are insatiable, aren’t you?”

He sits back, admiring how lucky he is. The girl he’s thought about while alone in his own bed, now sprawled out before him. Your beautiful fucked out expression, his cum leaking out of your perfect pussy. Seb leans forward and with two fingers starts gently scooping his cum back into you.

“Mmmmm” you moan, “Whatcha doin down there Sebby?” You ask with a shiver.

He looks up at you with a bashful smile, “Just didn’t want to waste any of it,” he says as he pushes his fingers into your overly sensitive hole.

You gasp as Sebastian curls his fingers inside you, hitting the spot that drives you crazy. He pumps them in and out of you in a lazy pace, watching you whimper. Seb brushes his thumb against your clit causing you to tense.

“Shhh baby, just relax” he says rubbing your thigh with his free hand. “You didn’t think I’d give my sweet girl just one orgasm did you?”

You let out a groan as Seb slowly pushes another finger into you. He fingers you lazily, skillfully drawing out your second orgasm. After bring you back down from your high, seb slides his fingers out of you and slips them into his mouth.

“We taste pretty good together baby,” he says with a wink. You can’t move, so entranced watching him clean your combined mess off of his fingers.

“C’mon sweet girl,” he says extending his hand, “Let’s get cleaned up and go to bed.”

You follow his to the bathroom, “Wait so does that mean…” you trail off.

“What? You think I’d take this good care of you to let you sleep alone?” He asks with a grin.

[wroteclassicaly]

18+

Steve calling you from work, a low rasp curled around that dripping, honey hot tone of his. It slaps you in the belly, finding its home - warm and slick between your legs.

“I need your pussy.”

“Steve,” you make your arguing case, but you can’t deny how you’re already tightening your thighs together, how you’re staring past the living room book-shelve just thinking about it.

“Yeah, honey? Fuck, I’m stocking some tapes in the back. You wanna start touching yourself a little for me?” There’s a breaking pause, a few deep breaths that you can imagine him shrugging into, and then he’s speaking as if his mouth is covering the phone piece in a rather crude manner.

“On second thought, don’t touch yourself. I wanna be the first to feel how wet you’ve gotten.”

“You’re at work, Harrington.” You’re scolding, even unconvinced by how out of it you already sound. You can practically hear that smirk on the other end of the line.

“Lucky for me and you, I just went on my lunch hour.”

You know that you want to, you’re well aware that he needs you to. But it’s fun to play with him a little. “Do you even have a condom on you? Last I checked, you needed to make a drug store trip.”

He doesn’t bite the playful line, instead, he rides in on a mischievous one and delivers you a golden platter offer. You picture him right now, one hand on his hip, breathing heavily, tongue poking from the side of his mouth, one arm elongated to prop against the paneled wall. He speaks with molten precision, making you choke on a whine.

“Let me finger you for a little bit? Please? It’s what I’ve been thinking about all day. Just gotta touch you.” He can tell how shakily your breathing has gotten, images of that wet patch soaking your underwear begin to overtake him. He whines, throat muscles tightening as he tries to hold it back. Licking his lips, he continues. “Make you cum, kiss your pretty little neck. And when I get home, you can use me as your personal trampoline.”

“Oh, god. Steve, I —“

“ — You’ll see me in ten minutes?”

“Five. I’ll meet you in the storage closet.”

It took you approximately four minutes to drive from your home to Family Video, and twenty seconds to get out of your seatbelt and into the building. Steve was waiting to your right, immediately closing in behind you to flip the closed sign, not bothering with the door lock as he guided you with a massive palm to the storage closet. Once you were inside, he lifted you around the waist onto your tiptoes, always strong enough to make you feel as tiny waisted as his former flames. You aren’t a bigger girl, not with him, you are Steve Harrington’s girlfriend, you are a woman, no size in mind, and he can never seem to keep his hands off you. He’s already burrowing into your neck, helping you find purchase against the small table stand, his shoes scuffing across the cheap flooring below.

His cologne blends in with the delicious spice of his work day sweat, stains underneath his arms on his polo. You toss a hand around his neck to hold on, opening your legs as he works with precision to get your jeans and panties down around your knees. His palm glides along the plush over your overflowing belly, giving a soft rub, encouraging by your mouth when it finds his face and leaves wet kisses all across. His jeans are so tight he feels like he’s going to burst, heart in his throat, ready to explode with love confessions and declarations of worship. Everyday with you, like this, trusting and close, Steve didn’t realize sex could be like this — mutual admiration and pure love, built on years of friendship and trust.

He gets emotional half the time you’re both physical, always finding the foundation that brought you two here. He’s completely gone when you’re whispering, “touch me, please?”

Who is Steve to not oblige? He’s met with such a soaked result that he bucks into your mouth at his temple, apologizing. “You’re wetter than I thought you’d be. You sure you didn’t play with yourself already?”

“You know I didn’t.” It’s you whose mouth has found his jawline, spare hand wrapping around the tendons in his wrist, shivering, driving the pathway. You’re fogged, eyes wet with tears of want and raw desire. “Put your fingers in me. You said you wanted to make me cum, so do it, Steve.”

It’s a quick moving dynamic, mouths pressed, touching, only to part, but remaining pressed together seconds later, drunk on trembling breaths as he goes knuckle deep, and you’re already trying to bounce yourself on his hand, sopping wet noises echoing with panting breaths and heaving chests in the expanse of the space you’re in. He coaxes you to slow down, to feel him give you pleasure. But from the way he’s whining, you aren’t so sure he won’t come from this. And that’s what helps you open up to the second finger, elated into desperation. After a few kisses, he finds your throat to lavish with that hot mouth of his, making better than good on his promise.

[steddiealltheway]

Steve sighs as Robin cackles and opens the door to the break room to add yet another tally to the “You Suck” side of her whiteboard. He hopes she lingers for a bit so he can get a break from the constant reminder that yes, he does suck. But the stupid hat and sailor uniform is enough of a reminder already.

And okay, maybe he enjoys Robin’s company a little bit, so maybe he doesn’t want her to linger for too long.

But he’ll never tell her that. Not in a million years.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spots someone walk into the entrance and he turns to give his “ahoy there” speech that Robin refuses to utter a single word of. Only, he gets a little choked up when he realizes he knows the person.

Well, not exactly knows him. But it’s hard not to know of Eddie “The Freak” Munson. Especially if you go to high school with him and happen to be a jock, god forbid. Not that Steve ever disagreed with the things he said, although some of it went right over his head - okay, most of it did. But! All things said, Eddie had a habit of making himself known to people.

“Ahoy there!” Steve announces louder than intended. “Would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor with me? I’ll be your captain.” He leaves out his name because what’s the point? It’s not like Eddie isn’t aware of his existence or at least his last name which sometimes made a feature in his tabletop speeches.

“Steve Harrington,” Eddie says for him, apparently knowing his first name. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” Surprisingly, it’s not said in complete distaste. In fact, Eddie is smiling widely at him, eyes roaming over the uniform and landing on the hat.

Steve sighs, “Trust me, I know. So, what can I get for you today?”

Eddie smiles wickedly and asks, “Why don’t we set sail on this ocean of flavor and you can show me around, captain?”

A blush creeps its way up Steve’s neck and begins to burn at his cheeks. Probably from the humiliation. Nevertheless, he points out each different flavor and goes into detail about what’s in each since Eddie seems to be enjoying the humiliation, but Steve doesn’t mind it too much since he feels like he’s getting his undivided attention. And something about that makes Steve feel… less sucky.

He glances up at the end of his speech about the last flavor and catches Eddie staring at him with a small smile on his face, more genuine than before.

“What?” Steve can’t help but ask.

Eddie shakes his head. “Nothing,” he says, but the lie is clear to both of them. “I’ll get the USS Butterscotch.”

Something about the flavor makes Steve hesitate.

“What?” Eddie asks this time, slightly defensive.

“Nothing,” Steve says with a shake of his head. “Cup or cone?”

Eddie laughs, “Come on, you can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

Eddie gestures at him. “Make that face and then pretend like you weren’t thinking anything.”

Steve raises his eyebrows at him. “And you can?”

Eddie’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he leans across the top of the glass dramatically and puts his head in his hands. “I’ll get a cone please.”

Something about the image makes Steve laugh as he grabs a cone and scoop, making the order for Eddie. "You know." he says, wishing the ice cream was the slightest bit softer, "I was expecting you to get something like death by chocolate or coffee."

"Why's that?" Eddie asks curiously.

Steve glances up at him and shrugs. “Those flavors are more…” he struggles to find the right word.

“Metal?” Eddie asks, sounding almost hopeful.

“Exactly.”

The smile on his face grows. “Well, I’m glad you see me as someone metal, Steve. But what, just because you’re a jock, I’m supposed to expect you to like some gross flavor like bubblegum?”

Steve frowns. “I like bubblegum ice cream.”

Eddie sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Of course you do.” He takes a moment to look over Steve again. “But looking at you now, I’d assume your favorite flavor would be the USS butterscotch.”

“Because of the stupid hat, right?” Steve asks as he drizzles extra caramel on the top of the cone.

“I think the hat is cute,” Eddie replies.

The comment sends Steve’s heart into a bit of a frenzy for a moment before he collects himself and hands the cone over in exchange for the bill in Eddie’s hand. He counts the change two times, trying to make sure he doesn’t make a mistake as a bunch of panicky thoughts go through his head. He hands the change over quickly but hesitates when Eddie stares at it and frowns. “Something wrong?” Steve asks.

Eddie glances up at the menu, down at his change, and takes a moment before saying, “Sorry, you just charged me for a single scoop when this is a double with an extra topping.”

Steve frowns and looks at the cone. “The topping is on the house, but that’s a single scoop.”

Eddie glances up at him and raises his eyebrows.

“A generous single scoop,” Steve corrects himself.

There’s a pause before Eddie’s smile widens, and the corners of his eyes crinkle up cutely. “I think i just found my new favorite ice cream place.”

Steve laughs, “Better than Linda’s Ice Cream Parlor?”

“Linda would call this a triple scoop and wouldn’t give me a topping but she would still make me pay the extra just for asking,” Eddie complains with a smile.

“Well, I would never do that to you.”

“Is that so?” Eddie asks, leaning forward a bit.

Steve’s eyes glance down at Eddie’s lips momentarily as he tries to come up with a response.

“Hey dingus, there was a horrible delivery you missed…” Robin trails off as she looks between the two, effectively ruining the moment.

“See you around, Harrington,” Eddie says with a wink, tongue darting out and gathering up a bit of white ice cream and letting it disappear into his mouth.

Steve feels a familiar heat in the pit of his stomach and nearly groans. Instead he hurriedly tells Robin, “I’m taking my break!” And effectively ignores the look she’s giving him.

Back in the break room, Steve walks up to the board and stares at it, glancing at the “You Rule” column and whispering, “Almost,” before sighing and putting his head in his hands.

He can’t believe that Eddie Munson is sending him into a sexuality crisis. Yet, he hopes he comes back often the rest of summer. And maybe he’ll finally be able to get that “You Rule” tally.

[luvjunie]

— trust who?

pairing: e-42!miles x 1610!fem!reader

contains: angst, mentions of death, yandere?miles

summary: you were taken from him a year ago, and now it seems the universe has given him a chance to do things differently— and this time, he’s not letting you go. no matter what. wc: 1,648

a/n: i got a lil carried away w this one won’t lie, lol. i love this song, and i put a little twist on it to match the plot. song lyrics are in small, bold italics

🎧: Not You Too - drake (ft. chris brown)

“trust- trust who? trust me and i can set you free. left your man came straight to me you the real mvp, my love.“

dimmed hues of red lights spotted your vision as you came to, eyelids heavy as they peeled apart to reveal the room you assumed would be the setting of your demise. your head snapped up when you finally regained consciousness completely, fright-riddled eyes darting around to scout out an escape plan. but just as you went to move, you heard chains clink from above as your body swayed, and realized you couldn’t. you looked down to find your legs bound by rope, as well as your hands, as well as the rest of your body to a firm, stuffed sack.

feet dangling from the ground, you let your head fall back against the punching bag, defeated, and settled for your only remaining option. “help!” you yelled, voice rasped and weak. “help!” you tried again.

“don’t bother, can’t hear a thing down here.”

an artificial, robotic voice sounded from above, warranting your eyes to meet a masked man who resided on a high beam, crouched in place, watching you. how long had he been there?

he jumped down, catching himself and effortlessly hanging from one arm before his sneakers met the steel floor. they were untied, you noticed.

fear permeated your entire being as he strolled over to you, a semblance of uneasiness coursing through your veins, pumping into your blood and rendering your spine straight as the ominous figure stopped just in front of you.

“ple—please, i don’t know why i’m here,” the words tumbled out in a broken heap of suffocated, stifled sobs as tears welled in your eyes.

“shh, it’s okay,” he shushed you, a hand reaching out to gently pinch your chin, lifting your head back up after it’d fallen. his touch was delicate, like he was scared he’d break you.

“i’m not gonna hurt you, mi vida. i’d never hurt you… you know that.” the voice distorter cut out, your breath catching in your throat and your eyes fluttering over every inch of this strange mask. it reminded you of a ventilation mask you’d seen in miles’ room once, a mask used to protect your lungs from the fumes of spray paint.

as if your mind were working against you, you found yourself… calmer than you were just a few seconds ago, and even more confused. why did the voice sound so familiar?

something wasn’t right.

“who— who are you?” you gulped.

“you don’t remember me?” the shield over his face pulled back, the quiet sound of mechanical whirring as it revealed his face drowned out by the heavy thrumming of your heart in your ear drums.

here stood your boyfriend in front of you, the same features, but… different. his entire demeanor had shifted since you had last seen him just prior to whatever time it was now, to something sinister. his hair was longer, pulled back and braided. an accent, almost resemblant of his mother’s lingered on the tip of his tongue, dripping within the words he spoke. his face was harder, etched and carved like the weight of the world had chipped at it piece by piece, only to settle on his shoulders, leaving him with no time for himself.

this couldn’t be right.

“miles?” you choked out, mouth gaping to find your voice. “w-why… what am I—you’re, you… but different? what is this? where am i?”

a puff of air shot through his nostrils, his best effort at a laugh as a small, smile lifted the corner of his lips, braids gliding over his shoulders when his head tilted to the side.

“you came back to me, mi amor. and god…you’re even more beautiful than i remembered.” he breathed, eyes flickering with sorrow for just a moment as they studied your face, a moment that was almost too brief for you to catch.

when he’d encountered you and his counterpart on the roof with his uncle, he swore his prayers had been answered. somehow, someway you’d been brought back to him— the pain of witnessing the bullet that pierced through your chest that fateful night just a year ago drifted from his mind, and replaced itself with the all consuming, peaceful, sleeping image of you the minute he’d picked you up and cradled you in his arms. it pained him to inject you with the needle to sedate you, but he had no other choice, he could never truly hurt you. no, he would never do that.

“i missed you so much.”

“first time in a long time hurtin' deeply inside”

the hand sporting his mechanical gauntlet lifted towards you, fingers bending so the claws wouldn’t scrape your skin as he let the cold metal brush against the swell of your cheek. the sound of the steel joints ticking made you flinch, chest stuttering for breaths you couldn’t keep within your overworked lungs as you turned away from him.

you looked at him with so much fear in your eyes, when all he’s ever wanted to do was keep you safe, to protect you, to make you feel comforted and secure. and he failed at that before, he knows that, but he’s ready this time. he’d been given a second chance, and he’d be damned if he let you slip through his fingers again.

“it’s me, hermosa… it’s okay, you know me. just trust me, and i can set you free, and then we can be together. just like old times.” his brows furrowed, his tone one of sincerity as he assured you, but it did nothing for your racing heart.

“trust—“ you sputtered, voice wavering when you spoke. “trust who? you? how can i when you have me tied up like this?!” you balked, your bewilderment such a stark contrast from his bleak, seemingly unmoving disposition.

“yeah… i’m real sorry ‘bout that. uncle aaron made me, so i tried not to make ‘em too tight. you know something like this would never, ever be my idea.”

you shook your head, was this some kind of sick joke? why wasn’t he understanding a single word that was coming from your mouth?

you grew frustrated, time was not on your side, and honestly you were getting tired of this game.

“i don’t know anything about you, i don’t even know who you are. you might have his face, and—and his body,” you looked him up and down. “but you… you are not my miles.”

he felt a pang in his chest, the words you uttered, the way you said ‘my miles’, as if he wasn’t right here, as if he wasn’t right in front of you. the version of himself he’d buried in the ground with you just last year wanted to jump out and yell at you, plead with you, anything to make you see he could be just like your miles, because he was your miles.

“oh,” he pulled the skin of his cheek between his teeth as he turned away with an agitated nod, extending his arm out to point towards your miles, who was still unconscious, chin dropped to his chest as he hung from another punching bag.

“him?” his voice raised in volume and broke apart with desperation, a humorless chuckle unintentionally escaping his trembling lips. “what’s the difference? huh? tell me.” he demanded, nostrils flaring as he tried to maintain his composure, staring deep into the eyes of the girl who would’ve burned the whole world down with him if he asked. the girl who was in his grasp, right in this moment, yet still so far from his reach— reserved for the one who had everything that belonged to him.

your head whipped to where he pointed, and the moment your eyes landed on your boyfriend your blood ran cold, a pained gasp rippling your chest. “miles! oh god, please!” you called out for him as you struggled against your restraints, his counterpart interrupting you by blocking your line of your view with his body.

“cálmate,” he hummed, “he’s fine, just unconscious. i’m not cruel. is that how you remember me, mamí?” he questioned, voice bleeding with hurt.

your gaze drifted over to your miles again, hope swelling within you when you heard him groan.

“no, no, princesa. don’t look at him, look at me.” he urged.

he didn’t understand. you always used to say you would love him in every universe, that you’d find him in every lifetime, what happened to that?

“please, we need to get home, if we don’t… he won’t be able to save his father, he—he’ll die. you have to understand.” you pleaded, the tears finally bubbling over your waterline, streamlining down your cheeks.

“you are home! it’s me, mi amor, i’m right here. what about everything we went through?” he asked tenderly, voice full of hurt and eyes still soaking in the slight difference in your features. he was too distracted by the fact that the girl he thought he’d never see again, was right here in front of him to even try and comprehend what you were trying to say. “please, don’t cry. you know i hate seeing you cry.”

nothing else seemed to be working, so you settled for empathizing with him. he was still miles, after all, different universe or not, he was still the same person deep down. and from the way he was looking at you, love flowing from the eyes that held so much anguish within them, you knew some version of you had loved him, too. in the same way you loved your own.

“look, i’m sure i-“ you stopped to correct yourself, “she, loved you, but i’m not her. i’m not from here, and i’m sorry she’s gone, and i’m sorry you have to live with this pain, but, please… you have to let me go.” your tone was forbearing, words teetering off into a hushed plea, your lingering apprehension threatening to tear through the seam of your heartfelt spiel.

“let you go?”

you nodded tentatively.

he moved closer to you, to unbound you from this elevated prison, you assumed. because maybe, just maybe you’d managed to get through to him.

but this wasn’t your universe, and this… this was not your miles.

for the first time in your entirety of knowing miles morales, you felt your heart stop— and not in the way that brought a flurry of warmed, passioned butterflies to flutter within you— but in a way that invited his words to settle like ice in your bones, allowed panic and dread to inhabit your senses, clutching you in a selfish grasp of resentment that had no intentions of letting you go— you realized, as this time, his gloveless hand swiped away yet another tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed.

“why would i do that?”

“I've given you enough time. hurtin' deeply inside.“

- please do not plagiarize, copy, or repost my works to other platforms!

likes, comments, and reblogs are very appreciated 💗

©luvjunie 2023

[kaciidubs]

Confiscated

❣ Summary: He was going a little too crazy on the new Fans app, and you would swiftly reign that energy back in. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 791 ❣ Warnings: Slice of life, fluff, humor, sexual innuendos, implied smut, mention of Bubble and Fans messages, Chris is a flirt and menace to stays, Reader teaches him the 'fuck around and find out' clause ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Christopher Bahng, Bahng, and Baby, Reader is referred to as Baby, this was a wild time for stayville, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

Tap tap tap. Send. Switch. Tap tap tap tap. Send.

He was having too much fun with making stays go wild - something about making them have the same reaction as he did, simply pushing him to continue on with his extravagant behavior. 

From Bubble to the new - and arguably buggy - Fans app, he was giggling up a storm in his bed as he watched various reactions begin to pour in from his not-so-subtle flirtatious comments and innuendos.

However, what he failed to remember was one stay was considerably close by, and her reaction wasn’t contained behind the screen of his phone.

“Christopher Bahng!”

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he narrowly avoided dropping his phone on his face, eyes shooting to the slightly cracked door of the bedroom.

The sound of footsteps swiftly followed suit before the door swung open to reveal your flustered, astonishingly enraged face as you held your phone up.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Um…” He squinted, unsure what he was supposed to garner from the black screen, “Talking to stay?”

“Oh, I know you’re talking to stay, mister ‘you know what’s sweeter than Dango Pudding’!”

The same heart that almost jumped out of his chest now fell to his ass - he could feel the heat of blush beginning to take over his face and ears.

“You still have my bubble?!”

You scoffed incredulously, “I- That- This isn’t about me! This is about you! You and your three addresses!”

His hands flew to his face, covering his eyes with an embarrassed groan, “No, no, no, please!”

“Nuh uh, it’s too late for begging, Bahng. Now, what’s this about some,” you paused, and he could hear the barely held back giggle threatening to break through your angered facade, “‘think you can handle it?’, huh? Or, ‘replying won’t be the only thing’, eh?”

Chris let out a shocked gasp as he scrambled to sit up, “You got Fans?! Baby, really?!”

“Baby? So I’m just ‘baby’? Not your-” A small snort escaped you, trying your best to keep a straight face, “-precious little Dango Pudding cup? Is that why you decided to stay on Bubble after wreaking havoc?”

“This can’t be happening - this cannot be happening right now.” Falling back onto the mattress, he stared up at the ceiling as he contemplated the pros and cons of simply disappearing off the face of the earth.

The bed dipped at the presence of new weight, hooking your leg over his hips to delightfully settle on his lap with ease.

“I’m confiscating your phone.” You hummed gleefully, leaning over him to grab the device currently abandoned beside his head.

“You’re what?” Angling his head, he caught your eyes with a pout, “You can’t do that!”

“Baby, you’re being extremely horny on main - trust me, I’m doing everyone a favor. Besides, aren’t you allegedly ‘cleaning your room’?” Looking around the bedroom pointedly, there was barely a hint of anything out of place, “Doesn’t look too dirty in here, but I’m sure we can make a mess to clean up.”

Your words had him choking on air, gasping and spluttering for words while a warm blush settled over him like a blanket.

“I- What- That’s- And you’re saying I’m the horny one?!”

Gasping in mock shock, you pressed your finger into his bare chest, “I’m like this because of you! Do you know how hard it is to try and watch a movie while your significant other is boldly sharing double entendres? How he’d do more than reply to his ‘favorite snack’?” Slowly trailing your index down the valley of his pecs, your tone softened as you tilted your head to the side, “Saying he’s not a flirt, then lamenting on how he needs them…” Honey dripped from your words as your eyes took on a sultry gaze, “Goading about whether or not they could handle it.”

The path of your finger stopped just above his navel, rising and falling with each bated breath he took - the air thick with lust and allure.

“Do you think I can handle it, baby?”

A chill ran down his spine, goosebumps rising along his skin as he blinked slowly, completely and utterly swept up in you.

He swallowed thickly, somehow managing to find his voice, “Can you?”

A smirk curled your lips, fire dancing behind your irises, “Guess there’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

Phones discarded on the nightstand, it wasn’t long until the bedroom truly had to be cleaned - and with a fresh pair of sheets and a clean pair of clothes, he made a quick excuse for accidentally ghosting on Bubble; the true reason remaining in the form of hickeys on his skin and scratches on his back.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay, @bahng-chrizz, @milknhoneyracha, @hann1bee, @palindrome969, @newhope8, @softkissfelix, @luvyev, @luminouskalopsia, @kpopsstuffs, @luvyev

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

[skzdarlings]

alternate ending ; sharing a bed ; chan

original sharing a bed one-shot with chan.

author's note: i do love the final smut edit (and it's my most popular piece so clearly i was right!) but i always missed this fluff version. the love confession is very cute in this one.

content info: still some suggestive content, the first half of the story is the same and there's some heavy kissing, but this is definitely the fluffy director's cut lol

word count: 1800 words

-

You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour.   Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch.   Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming.   He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.   

He must have been tired tonight.  His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the little flickering lights of his computer station.  Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him.  He is sound asleep, so much so that he didn’t even hear your gentle knocks. 

You feel bad for disturbing him now.   Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.

You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you.  Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Babygirl?  That you?” 

Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine. 

You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself.   Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark.  He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face. 

“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper.  “You sleep.  It’s fine.” 

His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes.  His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline.  You quickly lift your gaze from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes.  He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.   

“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy. 

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway. 

He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you.  All at once his face goes slack with realization.  A smile pushes at his dimples. 

“Right,” he says.  “The couch sucks, yeah?  Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh.  “It’s your bed.” 

“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.” 

You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart.  As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight.  Your heart skips a beat.  

“All right,” he says.  “No worries.  Big bed.  You wanna share?” 

It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in. 

When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.

“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says.  “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”

Your eyes drop again.  The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundently clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers.   You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body.  He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed.  The sheet slips smoothly off his body.

Without thinking, you spin around to give him some privacy.  This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it. 

He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser.  Your view is his backside but you have no complaints.  You know you shouldn’t stare, but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed.   You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips.  He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute. 

“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now.  Come on.” 

He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you.  He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed.  You try not to think about how Naked Chan was laying between these sheets just moments ago.  

Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself.  You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly.  So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment. 

“Mhm,” you lie.  Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers. 

“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed.   You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest.   “Better?” he asks.

“Mmmhf.”

With a little more shuffling, you settle again.   Chan lays on his back with one arm wrapped around you, you on your side just as snuggly holding onto him.  You rest your head on his chest, your fingers bouncing where they rest on his abdomen.   It takes a lot of effort not to start tracing the lines of his body, and even more effort not to drool all over him, but you do manage. 

Your heart is still beating quickly.  You are way too awake to just drift off.   Still, there is something cozy and safe about laying in his arms.  Even though you can’t sleep, you are content to rest in silence.  Your close your eyes and let your breathing follow the same cadence of his chest as it lifts and falls. 

You begin to slip into a drowsy, dream-like state, but you are awake enough that you feel his hand slip down your back.  It doesn’t go lower, but he touches the base of your spine and holds you a little closer to him.

“Baby girl,” he whispers.  “You awake?” 

You are lucky you don’t mewl like an overly amorous kitten.  A few little pets and a whispered name and he almost has you whimpering. 

Not trusting yourself to behave, you pretend you are fully asleep.   He just sighs, his thumb rubbing a little circle on your lower back.  You keep your eyes firmly shut the whole time. 

“I’m so fucking stupid,” he whispers.

He sounds exasperated. You don’t think it’s your fault, because he lovingly tips his head to rest it on yours.  There is another moment of silence, so you assume he was talking to himself about nothing particular, but then he releases a deep breath. 

“I told myself I was gonna talk to you tonight,” he says, still whispering and still exasperated.  “Talk to her when you meet for coffee, Chan.  Buy her favourite tea and tell her.  Tell her now, Chan, while she’s sitting on your couch.  Don’t hide in your room.  She’s hugging you, Chan, tell her now...” 

You try not to get ahead of yourself, but it sounds like your friend is grumbling his way through a love confession.  A grin tugs at the corners of your mouth.

“Does it count if I tell you while you’re sleeping?” he asks.

Yes, you think.  You massive dork.

You have no idea how one man can be so dweeby and so hot at the same time, but Chan manages it.  His hand covers your hip while his other hand brushes hair out of your face.  Is he staring at you with the same lovestruck goofiness that you looked at him?

You get your answer when he speaks again. 

“Love you, baby girl,” he says, voice gone even softer than his previous whispers.  His hand falls away and he sighs.  “Maybe you’ll, like, internalize it or something, in your sleep, yeah?  Please. ‘Cause I’m crazy about you.  I love you so much.  I’m so fucking stupid.  What am I even doing right now?  Fuck, I’m a fucking idiot.” 

You crack an eye open.  His eyes are closed and he looks incredibly pained by his performance despite thinking you didn’t even hear it.    

Joy is a bubbly thing in your chest, threatening to burst out of you with an explosion of giggles.  You restrain yourself in favour of another manouvre. 

You shift as if moving in your sleep.  Your hand slides up his chest and hooks onto his shoulder while you lift your head.  He must be looking at you because you feel a little puff of breath against your cheek. 

“Channie,” you murmur in a sleepy voice. 

“Yeah, baby, I’m here.  What’s up?” 

You blink your eyes open and hit him with the most tender, wanting expression you can muster.   He visibly swallows. 

You wrap your hand around the back of his neck, your nails scratching the way he likes.  Sometimes he just plops his head in your lap and shoves your hand somewhere up there to tickle and scratch his head.  You know what makes him happy and it causes the usual shiver of pleasure.   Combined with your steady gaze, it makes him effectively pliant.  You easily pull his head closer. 

The once impossible space between you is finally closed.  Your lips come together in a gentle, careful kiss, one that is interrupted by his sharp intake of breath.  You take in a shaky breath of your own. 

“Chan,” you whisper.  “I love you too.” 

“Oh,” he says, staring at your mouth.  “Good.  That’s good.”  He smiles when you giggle, then he brushes his nose against yours.  “Good thing.  Otherwise it would have been really awkward when I do this.” 

He rolls over you, kissing you with such ardor that you feel as if you are melting into his sheets.  You hum sweetly against his lips as he gathers your hands to pin them by your head.  When he licks into your mouth, you arch against him and make him moan. Your knees cradle his hips as he settles against you.  

His head falls to the crook of your neck where he kisses you softly. 

“Chan,” you say, a breathy sound.  You wrap your arms around his neck. 

“Yeah, baby girl,” he says.  He kisses under your jaw, your cheek, then your mouth again.  “I got you,” he says. 

Knowing it’s true, you smile into the next kiss. 

[celestialsequels]

couldn’t see me without you, babe ¡! ❞

— synopsis: you’re in love with the it girl of your high school.

— warnings: fluffy, make out session, the most wholesome thing i’ve ever written.

— w/c: 1.9k

— part 2

a/n: credits to @jenctrl for helping me with the kiss scene !

•

digital cameras fluttered with alacrity as she made her way through the bustling hallways. turning everyone's heads without hesitation. her hair bounced with every step she took. she was as gorgeous as a butterfly, so delicate yet capturing everyone’s eye more than anything.

that was yu jimin.

that was the school’s it girl, as you always said. everything about her made your heart turn into mush and your face turn redder than a smooshed cranberry. those quick little glances she’d shoot your way left you a mess. in the midst of the night, she was the only thing encapsulating your dreams, refusing to leave until dawn.

yeonjun was sick of you for always bringing up jimin; he knew how insanely head over heels you were for her. you constantly told him the little details ranging from quick glances to full blown eye contact sessions from across the room. he swore you were crazy the moment you blushed at the note in your locker that said something along the lines of “you left your key in class; here it is.” your mind just knew it was jimin. only yeonjun knew it was the janitor.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“can somebody please tell me when cubism became a revolutionary movement in the history of art?” yeonjun asked the class as you two stood in front of the class to present your done-last-minute-but-looks-good-enough art project.

you scanned around the room hoping somebody would answer since you clearly didn’t know the answer, having only been running the entire day on two cans of red bull. you crossed your arms, zoning out at the giant window while anticipating the smart kid of the class to answer. you tapped your chin trying to remember if you had anything in your mind since you were the one who wrote these questions.

“1907-08,” a voice spoke out of the classroom, breaking you out of your thoughts. you could recognize that voice anywhere. the way you began to giggle had the entire class thinking if you were having a stroke since you weren’t really the type to even smile in art class. your face lighting up as delusions encased themselves in your mind.

“that’s right!” you yelled out faster than yeonjun could utter out a word, scaring the entire class in the process of doing so.

“of course it’s correct. i’m never wrong,” and there she was in all of her glory, leaning on the door frame with a smirk painted on her face.

you coughed out loud as you choked on your saliva from how intensely she was staring at you and only you. yeonjun nudged you with his elbow, subtly telling you to get your act together since you were being too obvious.

“how may i help you jimin?” your art teacher interrupted. since jimin was older than you and a heck ton smarter than you, it was evident that she was adored by every teacher.

“i wanted to borrow a student from your class for an interview. it’s for my psychology project, and i really need them right now,” jimin spoke, still sporting a smirk in your direction as she knew your art teacher would never say no to her. your heart was doing all sorts of things; dancing around like jojo siwa in karma while also moonwalking all the beats through your body. your palms felt sweat pool in the center from how nervous her gaze was making you.

“take your pick, jimin,” your art teacher offered.

“can i take y/n if that wouldn’t be a problem?” her voice was more giddy than the expressions on her face.

you swore the things around you had stopped moving, the only thing you could hear was your blood pumping through your veins, clearly turning your face red. yeonjun stepped on your foot this time causing you to squeak out loud before muttering out a quick “sorry”.

“not a problem at all. y/n, please accompany jimin with her project,” your art teacher smiled internally, noticing how you turned red, but he was hopeful this could be the start of something new. you quickly nodded, almost embarrassingly tripping over the cord of the projector below your feet as you made your way towards jimin. she eyed you up and down hastily, mentally telling you to follow her to wherever she wanted to take you. you kept your head down as your shyness made an awkward entrance, quietly following behind her. she paid no mind to you until you two finally approached the library. jimin stopped suddenly, catching you completely off guard as you walked straight into her back.

“pay attention, pretty girl,” you froze at the endearment, pinching yourself to recollect yourself out of this dream.

you two made your way inside the library after that little moment, finding a cozy spot in the corner. it almost made you feel as if you were on a date with jimin, with the way she tucked your chair in as you sat down. you truly wondered what that would feel like.

“hi,” you managed to say despite the fact that you were out of breath by just being in her presence. you were oddly confused as you realized she didn’t have her notes with her for the interview until you recalled that she’s smarter than you and doesn’t do her projects the day before they're due.

“so, i have a couple of questions for you. this interview is solely based on having a casual conversation,” jimin paused at your confused expression before continuing, “it’s going to have common questions such as likes, dislikes, etc. is that okay?” she asked you, to which you politely nodded with a smile.

“okay, perfect. first question then. what do you think about museums?” she piped.

“museums? i really like them. i think they capture a lot more than just what was. they hold stories of people who once loved, once hated, and once made the entire world think if there was more to art,” you answered with a small chuckle at the end. jimin simply stared at you, almost in awe with how you formulated your words, especially since she knew that you didn’t like talking much.

“i’ve never thought about it like that! next question, what is your favorite type of flower?” she asked while tucking her hair behind her ear.

“if i’m being honest, i really love the old fashioned roses. i don’t have much to say for that other than the fact that it symbolizes such timeless romance,” you chimed.

“okay how about—wait what’s your opinion on—,” before jimin could ask you another question, the bell for next period rang loudly, reminding you that you had a test today that you totally didn’t forget to study for.

“i’m so sorry! i just realized i had a test today. can we pick this up tomorrow or perhaps, later?” you rushed out.

“oh! that’s completely okay. i’ll see you tomorrow then, or if i run into you later on. thank you for your time!” jimin smiled at you as you grinned before making your way out of the library and onto your next class.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

students had begun to jet outside of classes, piling up in the halls as the final bell of the day rang. you tiredly walked to yeonjun’s locker, filling him in on what had taken place in the library today. you felt the red bull beginning to wear off as all your energy had vanished the moment you stepped out of the test. teachers were heading to meetings they had been informed of at the last minute, causing everyone to be kicked out of class almost right at the bell.

“so, that’s all that happened? isn’t it weird how the questions weren’t the least bit psychology related?” yeonjun questioned curiously.

“well, she did mention that it was an interview based on having a casual conversation, but she didn’t exactly explain it, so i didn’t question her,” you responded tiredly.

“hmm, okay. go get your stuff so we can leave. i need to return this book to the library before it closes!” he yelled as he ran to the library, practically pushing people out of his way.

you shook your head at his buffoonery and made your way to your locker. foolishly forgetting your code before trying again, letting out a grateful susurration as it opened. you grabbed your textbook along with your keys. you were just about to close your locker until you saw a note fall out of the corner. looking around, you swiftly picked it up before gently unfolding it.

“meet me in the art room after the final bell”

without even hesitating, you shut your locker and trudged to the art room only to find it locked. you opened the note again, which you had shoved inside of your pocket, to check if you were at the right room. you clicked your tongue as you waited for something to happen or somebody to at least open the door. you noticed how the hallway had gotten so eerie. the atmosphere of the hallway almost forcing you to get going until you suddenly felt somebody tug roughly at the back of your collar and pull you into the art room.

it was jimin.

“hi, y/n,” she shyly smiled at you as you stared at her in surprise.

“hi, jimin. i wasn’t expecting that strength,” you tried to joke until you realized how horrible of an attempt it was.

before you could say anything else, you saw her rushingly dig into her bag for something. she slowly pulled out a rose from her side pocket and handed it to you, not letting you utter a word as she placed her finger on your lips, almost stilling you out of your mind. you blushed but didn’t dare to say anything.

“so, earlier during that ‘interview’ you mentioned you really liked museums, so i got us two tickets to the art museum downtown,” jimin said, taking your hand, gently placing the ticket in your palm, letting her fingers linger along your skin.

“jimin, i-i honestly don’t—you’re the sweetest little thing ever,” you gazed at her lovingly as you tried to gather your thoughts.

“you don’t have to say anything, y/nnie. i just want you to come with me,” she whispered.

she slowly tucked your hair behind your ear that had fallen in front of your face. you two locked eyes before she cupped under your jaw, bringing your lips near hers. you thanked whatever higher power there was for this moment just before you closed your eyes and let her take the lead.

as soon as her lips hit yours, you knew you were doomed for however long you were going to live this lifetime. butterflies erupted in your stomach while your heart leaped out of your chest in bliss. her soft lips continued to move against yours as your hands remained on her waist, pulling her in closer than ever. you two paused softly, smiling against each others’ lips before pulling back completely.

“so, i’ll come pick you up whenever you’re ready, pretty girl,” jimin beamed before heading out the door.

you happily nodded at her, not trusting your words in the moment. holding your chest as your heart wanted to simply embrace jimin and never let her go, you were sure your face was redder than it’s ever been.

“y/n? why are you so red?”

[shiggyscumrag]

To fuck or not to fuck?

Synopsis- After joining the x men you train with them one on one till you are inevitably forced to train with Logan. During a rough training session a heated argument arises and there’s only one way to break the tension.

Warnings- open wound mentioned, blood mentioned, cussing, penetrative sex (pnv), cum play if you squint, light slapping, oral (male and female receiving), choking, gagging, a bit of crying, over stimulation, nicknames babe and princess used frequently, no pronouns are used for (y/n), I’m sorry if I missed any!

AN- look I’ll be honest I just wanted to write a situation where you hate fuck Logan 🙌🏻 also this is probably not gonna be lore accurate but does it really matter when it’s smut with no plot? NO!! so enjoy fuckers ;) I did channel Deadpool energy for this character bc why not? Also the characters power involves using their voice to manipulate the people around them into doing what they want. ily pookies 💋

Look you didn’t want to be a stupid X Men. You made it very clear since day one you just wanted to continue living your “civilian” life and to keep blending in. Of course it didn’t work out that way. Professor X was the one who pulled you out of this almost normal day to day life and threw you into his rich ass mansion full of freaks. Ok you’re a freak too but you’re not trained like them. You should be out working your five to nine barely making ends meet in your shitty one bedroom apartment, but no. Now, you’re tasked to help “save the world” from worse mutants than you.

Reluctantly, you decide since you have no choice being here, why not make something interesting out of this new arrangement? After the tour of your fancy new “home” (really a school/headquarters), it’s time to meet your new coworkers. Friends? Eh too soon.

It was a little intimidating with them all lined up staring you down when you walked into the final room of Xavier’s tour. Storm standing to your far left, Cyclops beside her, Rogue, Beast and finally the Wolverine. One by one they gave a greeting, some more friendly than others. Until Logan (you later learned) just muttered a “whatever” and left. Pushing past you while staring you down. Jesus, what’s up with that guy?

You decided it wasn’t worth it to fight on your first day so you let it go. Then weeks passed, with week after week going slowly from one mutant to another teaching you new techniques. When eventually the mutant you dreaded training with the most was up. The one and only Wolverine, Mister Logan Howlett. Bit of an ironic name you couldn’t help but chuckle at when Xavier introduced him officially. Since Logan was avoiding you at all cost the whole time you’ve been here you weren’t exactly familiar with his anger issues.

“What’s so funny bub?” You could see his claws starting to peak from his knuckles and didn’t stop another chuckle.

“Knives for hands here doesn’t even know me and he wants to shred me already. You sure I’m safe here?” You say as sarcastically as you can, really emphasizing the safe part. Xavier gave a curt nod and turned to Logan.

“Don’t embarrass me.” Leaving the room right after, you and Logan were dumbfounded. You finally let out the cackle you were holding back hunching over when the door finally closed.

“Ha!! You got in trouble!!” You stood up straight clapping your hands together “You should really start playing nice.”

“You’re real fucking immature, you know that?” He said his claws slowly peaking out more after each comment you make. You start to smirk.

“Yeah? Well I am 100 years younger than you sweet heart, so who’s really the immature one?” You could be less cruel and not want to irk him on, but that wouldn’t be interesting. Plus we’re here to train. so might as well get it started.

“I’m going to kill you.” Logan stops holding back and releases claws in one swift motion.

“What happened to this being a safe space?” Before you could continue being a smart ass he lunges at you.

Dodging you stop talking and actually try to use the training you’ve gotten to kick this guys ass. I mean what’s his fucking problem? You haven’t said a fucking word to him and he thinks he can just treat you this way with no consequences? Well fine douchbag you can get exactly what you want.

“You’re really fast! I can’t believe you’re like a thousand years old!” You say giggling as you move right in time to avoid a punch to the nose. “Now that would’ve hurt!” You spin around him kicking him straight in the back knocking him down. A quick groan and he’s back up in a flash.

Dodging and weaving his swift lunges and jabs, with a yelp you fall to the floor after he kicks your feet from under you. After being quickly tackled and claws threatening to break the skin right above one of your major artery’s you let out a small whimper.

“Are you finally going to shut the fuck up?” Logan growled a top of you teeth beared chest heaving and forehead sweaty. That was kind of fucking hot actually.

“Let’s just stop and talk this out, yeah?” You say holding your hands up next to your head giving him a big toothy smile.

Logan was more than a bit confused when his body started to move and his claws retracted. In his mind he’s screaming at his body for stopping. Pissed off at the fact he’s isn’t in control. Standing you dust yourself off and start again before he could get his control back.

“Now before you try to attack me again, let’s just take a breath and calm down. You’re fine by the way. I just have control over your body temporarily.” Anger flashes across his face and it hits you that it probably wasn’t the best idea to start with that.

“Since you’ve been a major fuck face these past few weeks you know shit about me. So let me have the pleasure of introducing myself again. My names (y/n) and I can control people with my mouth.” You smile pointing to your lips. He just stares back with slight confusion and disgust. “I tell them an action and they do it. I could hypothetically kill you at anytime too, so let’s be chill.” You say winking at him.

“Well it’s good thing I can’t die.” He says smirking back at you. Funny enough you released him a while ago yet he hasn’t attacked you again.

“You seem to be calm now?” You question. “Is that lesson one?” You poke at him.

“Don’t push it.” He huffs rolling his eyes and walking away. Doors closing behind him you crumble to the ground adrenaline rushing out of you.

A week or so of training later you and Logan still dislike each other as much as the first day you met, but you could feel a tension beneath the hate. A deep seated craving consisting of mostly hate but also a little curiosity. Maybe, even a bit of sexual frustration?

After a particularly long day of training you were quite irritated at Logan. He was being even harsher than he usually is, it was pissing you off. He lunged at you when you weren’t expecting it leaving a deep cut running down the center of your back and you couldn’t hold back a growl.

“What’s your fucking problem today?” Turning to him you stop making him hesitate. “Was I too nice for your liking, Wolvie?” You mock starting to walk towards him, frustration evident on your face.

“It is explanation enough to say that I just don’t like you?” Logan spit as venom coated every word, all while that stupid smirk wore his face. That’s it.

“Down.” Without a second to waste his knees hit the rough floor hard causing a groan to break his smugness. He couldn’t move, only being able to look at you and the anger that filled your eyes. Rage would be a better description. Joining him down on the floor you kneel as you find his chin making him lean closer to your face.

“You don’t have to be cruel Logan.” You pause looking right into his hazel eyes finding that look again. This time there was something different. You couldn’t help but soften slightly as your anger slowly started to fade. Then a sting of pain from sweat seeping into the cut he just gave you reignited the fire. Grabbing his chin harder he winces as you pull him against your forehead, noses practically touching and lips inches apart.

“Don’t let this happen again.” You push his face back hard making him tip over as you release him. Staring him down you finally turn once he stays put and leave.

Half way down the hall you hear the doors burst open with a loud bang and angry footsteps starting to rush after you. Turning you’re suddenly face to face again with Logan. This time your chins being grabbed and pulled towards his face.

“Look I don’t have a problem with you.” He whispers softly while he stares you right in the eye. It’s really hard to stay mad at him when his kitty hair is all disheveled and he’s flushed like a school girl who just got kissed for the first time.

“I didn’t mean to go as hard as I did.” He muttered out. You chuckled.

“I didn’t peg you as the type to be gentle. Unfortunately for you, I haven’t had the pleasure to figure that out.” With a smirk still on your face Logan swiftly throws you over his shoulder and starts walking down the hall. You wince as your fresh wound gets tugged distracting you from the fact that you’re going opposite of the med bay. Once you pass your room you finally noticed this not so fun fact.

“Hey, the med bay is the other way big guy. I kinda need to be stitched up here.” You say as a nervous chuckle escapes.

“I’ll stitch you up myself. I don’t need the professor all up my ass about it.” He doesn’t even look at you, just keeps walking. You hold in the laugh you so desperately want to let out because you don’t want to fuck this up. This is the nicest he has ever been. That’s right, that’s the end of that sentence with no buts! Except his actual ass being right in your view and if you could add you’d love to be all up in it.

Finally making it to his room he gently sits you on his bed. Turning around without saying a word he digs in his desk pulling out a fairly impressive med kit. Not one of those small ones no, no, like an actual emergency med bag. Your jaw dropped a little and he chuckled. Dropping it on the bed beside you he lifts your chin making you look up at him.

“You gotta take your suit off and lay down so I can stitch you up.” He said pointing to the clean plaid sheets. Looking where he pointed you chuckled.

“Well that’s a bit forward.” He rolled his eyes but this time he had a smile? “Wow I finally made you almost laugh!”

“Shut up and lay down already. I’m getting impatient.” Logan said it as harshly as he could but it came out more light than originally intended.

“Fine but turn around. You’re not getting a free show.” You wink as you give your finger a twirl. Sighing and softly shaking his head he turns around. Taking a moment to scan over his juicy toned muscular ass you then move on to actually do what you had him turn around for. Taking your top off you cup your chest and lay down.

“Alright bubble butt, I’m all yours.” Looking over your shoulder you see him turning around with an eyebrow raised until he finally sees you. His silent judgement turned into something darker. He collects himself and walks over to the bag once again shaking his head.

“Don’t stare at my ass, and definitely don’t make comments about it.” He says firmly, but you can tell he’s not being stern.

“Oh come on, it was right in front of my face! Plus, your hips sway slightly when you walk so it looked extra good-“ a loud whine stopped your sentence short when a sharp needle entered your back.

“A warning next time would be delightful!” You say sarcastically jaw clenched.

“I warned you not to talk about my ass.” That’s all he has to say?

“And once again, your ass was in my face! What else am I supposed to talk about? That’s a hypothetical by the way, it will always be about your ass.” At this point the adrenaline makes the pain in your back go numb. Fortunately, feeling his warm hand on your back kneading the needle through your skin has your panties wet. Luckily he’s fast with his needle work because two minutes later he’s done.

“Alright you’re all fixed up now.” He stands from the bed returning the supplies to his bag.

“Really?” You could have sworn that cut was huge. “Well I guess I’ll get dressed then.”

“Did you need me to turn around or are you going to finally act like I’ve seen tits before? That’s a hypothetical of course.” Mocking you with a cheeky smirk and one brow raised he tosses the med bag off the bed and onto the floor. Arms crossed he stares down at you still lying on the bed.

“Is that your way of asking to see my tits? I’d love to test and see if you’re as harsh in bed as you are during training.” Turning around still holding your chest you give your shoulders a slight shrug. “What’s it gonna be Logan? Hate sex or awkward eye contact in the hallway?”

As quick as he is in training, he’s now right in front of you, your jaw gripped by his hand. He leans down getting right in your face. You can feel his warmth radiating from his skin, it made you shiver.

“Don’t get all shy now,” He mocked. “I don’t hate you.” He looks you up and down scanning every inch of your body, unclothed and clothed. “I will fuck you though.”

“I didn’t think that’d actually work but show me what you got baby!” You say hands falling from your chest and pulling his jaw into a kiss. He kisses you back grabbing your side slowly moving to kneel on the bed. Lowering into the bed you’re now lying down. The pressure not the best feeling on your back you let out a quiet hiss.

“What’s the matter? Is it your back?” He asked gently leaning your back off the bed relieving the pain shooting though out you.

“Yeah, usually I wouldn’t mind missionary but I think your love swipe is begging for us to do something kinkier.” You say winking. Before he can say a word you hook your legs around his waist using your momentum to flip him under you on to the bed. Kissing the shock off his face he pulls back suddenly.

“Who taught you that?” He questioned, jealousy slightly peaking through.

“That’s a personal trick. Consider it a mini lesson of my own to you.” You leave a little boop to his nose finding his lips again before he could ask any more questions. Starting to grind down on him, he grabs your hips rolling them at a slower pace. It was deeper though, way harder. Slow hard and precise. You didn’t stop the moan that fell into his mouth. Groaning in response he squeezed your hips even tighter causing you to pull back. Arching your back while dry humping him you let out a breathy moan. Reaching up you grab your tits rolling your nipples in between your fingers. Still guiding your hips a low rumble growls from Logan’s throat as his head rolled back. A pretty erotic site.

“You’re killing me here bub.” He groaned out as he sat up meeting face to face. He starts kissing your jaw moving down to your pressure point playfully nibbling. You moan embarrassingly loud, you could feel his grin against your neck. That made you want to stroke your ego a bit. Pulling his head back by the roots of his hair you grind down extra hard feeling his hip buck to meet yours. You quietly laugh and push him back down. Crawling up an inch or two to give him one more sloppy kiss before sitting back up.

“Don’t worry baby you don’t have to wait for this pretty pussy any longer.” You’re unbuckling his belt and pulling his boxers down to remove his- holy shit huge cock.

“Damn Logan! They weren’t lying when they said you were huge down unda!” You turn to wink to the fourth wall.

“Usually that would kill the mood but you’re really fucking hot.” He pants out “Now back to what you were doing.” He pulls his pants further down his hips and you begin to stroke him.

Eventually getting to impatient you say fuck it and decide to take him all in one go. Loudly he groans, his eyes meet yours, his pupils fully blown out. At the sight you couldn’t help but start bouncing on his cock. Letting go of your hips he lets you set the pace. Grinding down you curve your hips so he could run against your walls deliciously rough. Getting slightly cock drunk after just a few strides your pace begins to increase wanting more of that feeling. Growing desperate you let out a whimpering moan. Hands falling from your chest to Logan’s chest.

“Logan, please.” You beg desperately. Still riding him you plead with him. You looked so pitiful, he couldn’t help the way his twitched hard deep in you. You’re so fucking beautiful.

“What do you want baby? Use your words.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You whine out, you want him to take control and fuck the shit out of you. “Fuck me so hard I won’t be able to walk tomorrow!” You moan out loudly as he bucks his hips up suddenly. Grabbing your hand he intertwines with your fingers squeezing hard and steadying you. Bucking up into you fast he doesn’t feel he is deep enough.

Moving to grab you by your waist he flips you onto your knees face being pushed into his pillows. Drool starts to pool in your mouth form being engulfed by the scent of his sheets. He pushes himself back in quickly making you moan out his name.

“This better princess?” He said with a big smirk “I only want to hear my name come out your mouth. Got it?”

“Yes, daddy!” You were half joking about that nickname. Good thing you felt his cock twitch before you let out that nervous laugh bubbling up your throat.

“Fuck me.” He moans out.

“No fuck me-“ cut off once again by his cock pounding into you. Grabbing at the sheets you could feel his hands move from your hips to rest on either side of your head. Hitting even deeper inside you he then grabs your throat with one hand making you sit up on your hands and knees. Still fucking into you he pulls you all the way up to his chest, grabbing his arm for support you feel him tighten his grip on your neck. This euphoria wasn’t going to last much longer because you were gonna cum hard.

“Logan- I’m gonna cum!” You could barely speak between your pants and erotic moans.

“Cum on my cock princess.” His other hand finds your clit rubbing it at the same pace his cock is pounding inside of you. Letting out a loud moan you could feel the warmth building fast.

“Want me to cum inside you? I want to cum with you.” Panting to the pace of his hips he continues “Fill you up like the slut you are.” He growls into your ear. His voice full of lust and desperation.

“Fill me up baby!” You laugh out in between moans. He groans as he feels your walls spasm around him. You feel bliss and see black speckles fill your vision as your cum dribbles down his cock. Reaching back your hands find his hair and dig hard into his scalp. The pain causes Logan to fall over the edge and cum hard deep inside you.

“Oh fuck, can’t stop!” He practically whined out still fucking into you chasing his high. Still rubbing your clit you start to whine out from over stimulation. Before he can stop himself from rutting into you anymore you come again. Almost screaming out a moan you dig your nails into his shoulders. You feel so fucking warm, soaking wet and tight. Logan can’t pull himself away from you. You feel to good.

“Logan, you horny bitch!” Smirking while grinding back into him you slow his pace down. Moving his hand away from your clit his hands find the inner parts of your thigh. Picking you up slightly to meet his hips even closer than before he groans into the side of your neck. You start to feel the familiar cold metal of his claws poking into your thighs.

“Feel good pretty boy?” You turn towards his face and move one of your hands to his jaw. Before he could answer you start to make out with him while still grinding into him harder. Logan moans into your mouth before pulling away. Finally stopping with his cock still hard inside you he sighs into your shoulder kissing you.

“Feel real fucking good.” Starting to leave a hickey right behind your ear you begin to pull away.

“You trying to go another round or do you need more time to recover hot stuff? I don’t want to hurt that metal hip you know how to move just right.” Squeezing his sides you can feel his abs move under your hands. You moan quietly moving your hands down to his v line. Eventually making your way to his ass giving it a firm squeeze. Turning your head at the same time you find the side of his neck biting down a little rough on the lobe of his ear.

He growls out and you can feel his claws start to push against the flesh of your thighs. Retracting them he pulls out and flips you around sitting you up on your knees facing him on the edge of the bed.

“Bend down and suck my dick loud mouth.” Grabbing you by the base of your hair you slowly started crawling down onto your hands and knees. Ass arched in the air you find the tip of his cock in your face. Pre cum falling from his pinkish tip. You lick your lips looking up at him.

“It’d be my pleasure.” Not getting a chance to say anything else he starts fucking into your mouth. Breathing through your nose you start to lick against his length going opposite of his thrusts. Loud squelching filled the room. It was absolutely filthy, but so fucking HOT! You moaned into his cock, the vibrations sending a shiver through him. Moaning loud he starts going faster. Tears start to roll down your cheeks and you feel nothing but pure pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum soon. Keep sucking baby.” His eyes are shut tightly and you decide then you want to see him totally fucked out. Sucking extra hard and messy you lock eyes with him when he looks down at you. Moaning loudly he starts to pant.

“Good girl! Fuck you’re really good! Don’t stop!” Using both hands he starts pushing your head down faster and way deeper. His dick was starting to go down your throat. Deep throating him you hold yourself down on his cock moaning out his name. Barely audible for obvious reasons, he pulled you off his cock.

“What’s my name princess?” He smirks holding the base of his cock in his other hand.

“Logan!” Sounding hoarse considering this is the first time you could breathe in the last 5 minutes.

“But I prefer wolf daddy!” Always gotta keep the mood light! Gently slapping you on your cheek he pushes your head all the way down his cock. Gagging from the sudden intrusion you quickly begin to suck on him again.

Logan’s hips bucked into your mouth over and over while his balls slapped against your chin. Slobber running down your chin reaching your throat dribbling all over his balls and down his pelvis. His pubes leading to a happy trail is all you can focus on for the moment. Some of your juice still glistening on his mound. You moan against his dick again finally pushing him over causing him to grip your hair tight. Swallowing every last drop he has to give you. A low hum comes from you as the veins on his chest pop out from the pleasure. God this man was fucking hot. Rock hard abs, a sweat glistened chest with the sexiest chest hair, his perfectly cut arms and beautifully sculpted legs. The full package. And god knows you LOVE his package.

Popping off his cock once he was down you swallow the rest of his cum in your mouth. Licking your lips you sit up meeting his lips so he could taste himself on your tongue. One passionate steamy kiss later you pull back running a hand through his hair down to his cheek.

“I’m surprised you can use that mouth for more than just shit talk.” He chuckles kissing you quickly on the cheek.

“You always have to be able to ride the cock if you’re gonna talk the talk. Is that how that saying goes?” Tilting your head he puts his hand over your mouth.

“Enough of that.” Shaking his head he leaves you on the bed going to his closet. He pulls out a new pair of boxers pulling them on and then grabbing a pair for you. Moving over he grabs a wife beater for himself and an over sized flannel for you. Walking back over he sets your clothes on the bed.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Pointing to your cunt that’s still dripping his cum. “It’s not very gentlemanly to leave a mess.”

Kneeling down he sits between your legs. Without saying a word he starts licking between your folds lapping up all the cum in its wake. Rolling your head back you fall back on to your elbows. Moaning out his name his tongue dives into your hole making your flinch. Hand instinctively finding his hair pulling a little. Finding your eyes he starts to suck on your clit. Flicking his tongue fast up and down, then swirling around you he moans. The noise mixed with being over stimulated already had you cumming again but this time into his mouth.

“God Logan don’t stop!” Riding against his face you stop a minute later once your high has passed. With a groan you fall limp against his sheets. Not even caring about the slight ache that goes through your back.

“I finally got you to shut up.” And without saying a word you’re already out cold. Getting a cloth he washes you up and dresses you in his clothes. I guess he didn’t mind spending the night with you in his bed. You were surprisingly cute when you slept snoring softly and cuddled all into his side. You were warm and soft too. Logan can learn to like this quiet side of you.

I hope you guys enjoyed this one, I haven’t posted for a while so it’s hard not to second guess myself. Let me know if you want anymore Wolverine and possibly even Deadpool content?