#i'm just so incredibly fucking relieved i can't even tell you-

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[gukisbabe]

112:45am] jeon jungkook x fem!reader, 18+ smut!!! mainly face riding

completely absolutely obsessed with jks nose can you tell?

•••

"your nose is so pretty."

you find yourself mumbling at your boyfriend before your brain can even overthink those words and yet you're glad you didn't hesitate.

there's absolutely no reaction from jungkook for a whole minute as you absentmindedly trace his sharp features with your fingers, not quite able to handle just how handsome he is.

you've been observing his side profile for a while now and every time your eyes found their way to his nose, you couldn't help but bite your bottom lip at the mental image of its tip nudging against your clit whenever he's got his face buried in your cunt.

jungkook has been playing his video game for about an hour now and despite wanting to give him some space, you simply couldn't resist the craving of being close to him.

it's not like he minds your presence at all; jungkook loves having your legs in his lap and your hand in his hair, playing with the soft beautifully blonde strands as he enjoys his daily screen time away from all of his incone responsibilities.

usually you're quick to fall asleep, yet this time you seem to focused on him to even let the actual thought of sleep cross your mind.

you know it's because you can't stop thinking about your boyfriends lips, his hot tongue and his perfect nose, your head full of thoughts about how good he makes you cum over and over again once he's gotten a taste.

whereas jungkook remains absolutely clueless. he's also a little too focused to pay complete attention to your words but he does appreciate any compliment coming from your way. ever since the two of you started dating you've made it your mission to remind him how perfect he is

jungkook places a quick kiss of gratitude into your palm before he pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout and focuses on his game again, not realising how much you've been pressing your thighs together in hopes of releasing some of the pressure on your needy cunt.

there's just something about the way he scratches the sides of his nose whenever he's slowly getting excited, poking the inside of his cheeks with his tongue and nibbling on his lip like he's purposely trying to torture you.

"j." you mumble sternly and reach for his hand, grateful he's quick to play into your neediness as he grabs your inner thigh and gently strokes your skin,

"i wanna ride your face, please."

usually you're not one to be this bold with your requests but after watching him for the past hour it's been incredibly hard for you to maintain your composure and even your patience has limits.

jungkook is absolutely stunned at your words. for a second he's not sure if he even heard you right, giving you a double take just to realise your current state.

eyes glossy, lips pushed into the cutest pout, thigh firmly pressed together and your cute nipples poking through the fabric of your pyjama shirt to the point where not a single thought is left to imagination.

just out of curiosity jungkook lets his hand wander in between your legs, gulping harshly at the way they fall apart like you've been waiting to be relieved and once his fingers graze your soaked panties, he knows exactly why you're reacting the way you do.

without even missing another beat, jungkook throws his controller as well as his headset to the side, turning his game off and almost instantly laying on his side of the bed.

"I'm sorry for not realizing sooner, baby", he whispers as you shakily make your way to straddle his handsome face, his cheeks and lips tinted in the sweetest shade of pink, "there you go, baby."

his praise elicits a soft whimper from your throat, your hole clenching in absolute despair and the second the tip of his nose grazes your flesh, you throw your head back with a loud moan of relief.

"fuck, baby", jungkook grunts against your cunt, his tongue lapping up your sweet juices and if it wasn't for his tight grip on your waist, you would have thought he passed

out, "you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect." all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"you're so wet for me, angel, so perfect."

all you can do is whimper in response, grabbing a fistful of his dark hair and grinding yourself against his tongue, whining every time his nose nudges your hardened clit.

"that's why you love my nose so much, hm?", jungkook smile turns into a smirk as he pushes his tongue inside of your clenching hole, groaning and moaning against your wet flesh like a man gone mad.

"mhm, y-yes", you whisper and feel the sweet sensation of your release climbing up your spine in the sweetest way possible, "love sitting on it."

and for a moment jungkook movements stop, as he appreciates your sweet compliment, head cloudy from all the arousal floading his brain and his cheeks burning from excitement.

"that's my good girl", he grunts and finally wraps his lips around your sensitive clit before he pushes the tip of his tongue against the nub and applies just the right amount of pressure, making sure to have you cum all over his face to make you feel as loved and appreciated as he does.

[wenumsmol]

Umai

ModernAU!Rengoku Kyojuro x GN!Reader

Summary: Kyojuro just got home from a solo outing on a hot day and he's looking so hot you can barely concentrate on what he's saying. He catches on and it's up from there. (He's innocent and cute til he isn't.)

Content Advisory: Proof-read but the plot twist is my eyes keep crossing from sleepyness. If it doesn't make sense, tough titty.

Fluff, Smut-heavy, Overstim, Gender Neutral Reader, A little rough (He fucks like his daddy and you can't tell me otherwise.)

WC: 3.3k words.

Do not repost anywhere, claim as your own, or advertise my works on tiktok. Kay? Thanks.

༒︎Masterlist༒︎

MINORS DON'T INTERACT. Go AWAY. NO!

*Sprays water* GIT! No means no. I do not consent.

Kyojuro pedals up to the apartment building, the summer heat clinging to his skin like a second layer. He skids to a stop, dismounting with a fluid motion, and walks his bike to the rack, locking it securely before heading inside. His compression t-shirt is soaked with sweat, clinging to his muscular frame, and his basketball shorts hang low on his hips. A baseball cap covers his signature golden hair, now damp with perspiration.

He climbs the stairs to the apartment, each step echoing in the quiet building. When he reaches the door, he unlocks it and steps inside, the cool air of the apartment a welcome relief. He toes off his sneakers, neatly placing them alongside yours, and tosses his keys and cross-body backpack onto the side table with a clink.

"Hey, babe! I'm home!" he calls out, his voice full of energy despite the long bike ride. He walks into the living room, where you’re lounging on the couch, and stops in front of you.

You look up from your book, momentarily stunned by the sight of him. Kyojuro’s flushed face, the sheen of sweat on his skin, the way his t-shirt clings to every muscle—it’s all incredibly distracting.

He glances toward you, his eyes lighting up as he sees you lounging on the couch, engrossed in a book. "Hey there, sweetheart."  His voice is warm and affectionate as he greets you. "How's your day been? I missed you."

You look up from your book, smiling as you set it aside. "Oh, hey Kyo. My day’s been alright. I just got into a good part of this book," you say, holding up the novel.

Kyojuro’s eyes follow the book in your hands, then meet your gaze with genuine concern. "I’m glad you’re enjoying it," he says, stepping closer. "I missed you so much today. I know it was too hot for you to join me at the zoo, and that's okay. But tell me, are you doing alright? Did you stay cool and hydrated?"

You chuckle softly, feeling his care and concern warm you. "Yeah, I’ve been good. I stayed inside with the AC and had plenty of water. I’m glad you had a good time, though. I also hope you took breaks while riding. It's crazy out there today."

While he appreciates your worrying, being hot never really bothered him all that much. He'd even go as far as saying that he was made for this weather.

"Perfect," he says with a relieved smile, his eyes still sparkling with the excitement of his day. "Let me tell you all about it. You won’t believe the things I saw. There was this one zoo keeper who—"

He pauses, pulling off his cap and shaking out his hair right in front of you. Flame-tipped strands fall in loose waves around his shoulders, gleaming even in the dim light of the room. Kyojuro runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it to dry off some of the sweat. He looks wild, carefree, and undeniably sexy.

You hum, watching the way a stream of light catches his disheveled strands and hits his eyes just right.

"And the penguins! They were waddling around so cutely. I could watch them for hours. Oh, and the gorillas! One of them came right up to the glass and stared at me for a good minute. It was like we were having a moment."

Kyojuro chuckles, his deep laugh resonating through the room. He walks over to the fridge, grabs a bottle of water, and takes a long drink, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp. You can't tear your eyes away, captivated by the casual display of strength and grace.

As he turns back to you, he finally notices your dazed expression. "Are you okay?" he asks, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "You seem a little distracted."

You blink, trying to regain your composure. "Uh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... listening."

Kyojuro's smirk widens into a grin. "Oh, I see how it is," he teased, walking over to the couch. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

Your breath hitches as he closes the distance, his lips brushing against yours in a feather-light kiss. "Well, I can't blame you," he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "I did work up quite a sweat today."

Before you can respond, he deepens the kiss, his hands roaming over your body with a mix of tenderness and urgency. You melt into him, all thoughts of the zoo forgotten as the heat between you intensifies.

Kyo pulls back just enough to speak, his breath warm against your skin. "Let's take this to the bedroom," he suggests, his tone leaving no room for argument. He scoops you up effortlessly, carrying you down the hall as you clung to him, anticipation buzzing through your veins.

Once inside, he lays you down on the bed, his movements gentle but intense. Calloused fingers graze your skin as he pulls off your oversized tee and slides off your sleep shorts with a tender touch.

 "I've been thinking about this all day," he admitted, his voice rough with need. "Now, let me show you just how much I missed you."

Kyojuro tilts his head back, a soft sigh escaping his parted lips. His thick fingers comb through the flame-bitten strands of his golden hair, eyes locked on you. You watch, mesmerized, as his muscles flex while he gathers his hair into a loose bun.

You can’t resist tracing every dip and contour of his bulky chest and shoulders with your hands, greedily exploring the strength beneath his skin. Your gaze drifts up to his face, and Kyojuro’s half-smile sends a thrill through you.

Heat rushes to your cheeks as he leans down to capture your lips. His mouth moves sensually, a slither of tongue and teeth that nibble at your lips, sucking them gently. Kyojuro's hands roam your body, leaving you breathless and craving more until suddenly he breaks away and rises to a kneeling position on the bed, chuckling deeply.

"You like what you see, huh? Well, hold on, sweet thing..."

All you can manage is a nod, your heart picking up speed.

His eyes sparkle with mischief as he steadies himself with one hand splayed on the bedspread. With the other, Kyojuro teasingly plays with the buckle of his belt before unclipping it. His tongue lazily traces his lips, making a show of holding and dropping the belt, the metal piece clattering on the hardwood floor.

Next, his hands move with deliberate dexterity to the buttons of his pants, undoing each one with practiced ease. The dark denim and briefs slide down, revealing his thick thighs. Kyojuro kicks them aside, his hand wrapping around his cock with a low hum. You gasp as his erection bobs against his stomach, proud and thick. It's impressive and a bit intimidating.

Precum beads at the tip, and he wipes it away with his thumb, smearing it on your lower lip. You taste him as you hungrily suck his finger.

“Wanna see how I do it when you’re not here, sweet thing?”

“Y-yeah,” you mumble breathlessly.

Kyojuro beams, his grin widening as he murmurs something your mind struggles to grasp. You pull off his thumb with a lewd ‘pop,’ releasing it.

He leans back with a sigh, retrieving a bottle of lube from the bag on the edge of the bed. His cock twitches as he holds it up, the grin on his face as infectious as ever. He flicks open the cap and pours a generous amount onto his palm.

You shiver as his fingers wrap around his shaft, slickening it with purposeful strokes. The rhythmic motion of his hands, combined with the way his eyelids hood over his eyes, makes your breath catch.

“Oh yeah...watch carefully,” he rasps. “You’ll get some soon.”

In an instant, his grin fades. He groans deeply as his grip tightens at the base, sliding up to the head. He sizes you up, his hips jolting with each stroke. The bedframe creaks, and his moans fill the room.

“Shit tends to get a little hot when I’m involved. You’ll have to excuse me...” he says, slowing down.

Kyojuro cups his heavy sack, tugging it slightly as he feels the blood pool in his shaft. His red-ringed eyes drink in your reaction.

“Fuck, do you want this dick, baby? I can see you drooling for it.” That award-winning smile returns. “I want to play with you first, though. Make you feel good and ready before I’m deep in you,” he drawls slowly.

His hands slide down your body, tracing the contours of your abdomen, the curve of your hips, and the fat of your ass, until they rest on your thighs. His fingers sink into their plushness, gripping tightly as he maneuvers your legs into a perfect press.

“But I think you’re already well aware of that...” He purrs against your neck, placing a soft, lingering kiss just under your jaw. The kiss is so light you barely feel it until the cool air hits your skin as he pulls away.

Your knees are pinned back, and you're spread out so nicely for him. His eyes drink you in like gasoline feeding a fire. He leans down slowly, watching you watch him kiss and lick the crease of your thighs before focusing on your center. It's so sensitive when it's not blocked by a piece of fabric. Kyojuro makes use of his strong jaw and lips to nip and drag against your inner thigh, and your skin burns from the stimulation.

Finally, he makes contact, and you hiss a sharp gasp as your eyes roll up. He's kissing, using his tongue. Your eyes can't quite focus on the details. All you feel is raw, molten pleasure. So much pressure from different directions, causing the space behind your navel to tense.

Over the music in the background, you hear lapping and wet sounds and the occasional suck as Kyojuro groans what could have been words. But you aren't sure. All you know is he's getting a taste of his favorite dessert.

He'd stop for a moment, only to look up with a smirk and raise an eyebrow at you, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, before looking you up and down again. "Don't be so impatient...You think you're soft enough for me, baby? Pliant enough? I want you hot enough to melt my dick off. Lemme finish cookin'..." and he slips his hot tongue back inside.

There's a flame-like glow in his eyes when they make contact with yours, and it does more than set your heart ablaze.

"You're aching for me down here, aren't you?" Kyojuro whispers against your entrance, tracing it with an index finger. "But patience is a virtue."

"I-I can't help it..."

You'd say, a shaky whine in your voice as he kept licking and teasing you, like he was trying to get you to the very edge - trying to get you so close, yet not close enough to send you over.

This position becomes too intense. It's almost unfair how good it feels, and you have to close your eyes as your orgasm rapidly swells.

"Tastes so fuckin' good," Kyojuro's voice is ragged. His tongue outlines the very edge of your wet hole, then dips inside. The slurping is obscene, but he pays it no mind, focused entirely on you and chasing your climax.

It strikes you like a sudden burst of wind to a campfire. And like fire, your back bows in an arch from his relentless motions. You don't remember giving your vocal cords free reign, but the strangled cry of Kyojuro's name floods the entire building. Your stomach clenches and quivers, and you want to clamp your thighs around his head to stop it. It's too strong—it's all so much.

"Ooh, right there. Yeah, just like that...fuck, Kyo," you breathe, your hips faltering.

Kyojuro's jaw pops lewdly at the rough pace, but he picks it up.

"Right here?" He emphasizes his point with two fingers slowly slicking into you. You bite your lower lip, humming a lax 'yeah' as your eyelids flutter at the stretch, and nod.

"Then cum for me, sweet thing," Kyojuro slides his free hand down to cup your ass and effortlessly angles you just right. "Cum for me so I can fuck you proper, make it sloppy."

"Right fucking there, ohmyg-god please don't stop—"

Your head jerks forward violently from his intense sucks, feeling the coiling heat at your belly quickly getting tighter and tighter. A full-body shudder goes through you. Your leg shakes, accidentally kicking him in the back of the head, and he doesn't react beyond a low groan. You can't be bothered to apologize as he mercilessly draws out the pleasure until the sensation finally fades to a dull throb, and he slows to a stop, eventually sliding his fingers from you.

"Wow..."

Kyojuro releases your other leg from his grip. Your entire body quivers as the air and his exhale rushes against your now sloppily wet center, making you whimper.

He pants as his wide smile comes into view, and it's so wet it looks obscene. Yet when he pops his fingers in his mouth, it's still not the hottest thing you've ever seen.

The real winner is the look of pure bliss in his warm, hungry gaze as he rolls his tongue, tasting what's left of you.

As he positions himself above you, his lips are soft and warm, but also slightly damp against yours. Everything he does is hot. It's seriously not fair.

"So fuckin' tasty...let's see how many times I can give it to you, hm?" His hips settle against yours. "Sweet thing, I'm gonna wreck you."

"Mmmm..." His breath cools against your sweat-slicked collarbone. Kyojuro tilts your hips, and the shift in pressure sends your gaze spiraling.

"Just take it for me. C'mon baby." It's thick and velvety as it pushes into you, slowly at first. Your jaw goes slack, a small gasp escaping with each movement. Then he stops.

"Wait, wait..."

He flexes within you, hitting the perfect spot just to torment you.

Your breathing is labored as you run your hands over your face, feeling like you could go mad from his sensual torture. It was frustrating, the slow pace he's built up makes you squirm.

"You're so damn tight," he grunts through gritted teeth. "Relax for me, baby."

"Stop teasing, please..." Your plea almost sounds like a sob. "I need more, Kyo."

Kyojuro chuckles deeply, the sound vibrating through you. "Alright, sweet thing. I'll give you what you want."

With that, he pulls out almost completely before plunging back in with a powerful thrust. You cry out, the sudden fullness overwhelming. He sets a relentless pace, each stroke deliberate and deep, hitting all the right spots. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, accompanied by your breathless moans and Kyojuro's grunts of pleasure.

His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drives into you. The intensity builds, a coil tightening in your core, ready to snap.

"Cum for me again, sweet thing. I want to feel you," Kyojuro growls, his voice rough with desire.

You can't hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, your body convulsing with the force of it. Kyojuro follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he spills into you with a guttural moan.

He collapses beside you, both of you panting and spent. He pulls you close, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was amazing," he murmurs, his voice filled with genuine affection. "You're amazing."

You smile, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "You too, Kyo. You too."

You grip Kyojuro's neck, fingers sinking into the sweat-slicked skin, and clutch his bicep as his thrusts grow more frantic, leaving him gasping for breath. His muscles ripple beneath your touch, each movement sending waves of pleasure through you. A guttural groan escapes him, breaking through his clenched jaw. The room fills with the raw, wet slap of skin against skin, mingling with the intoxicating scent of your shared release.

You're both lost in the sensation, growing more sloppy with every breath. Kyojuro's next exhale nearly knocks you off balance as his gaze darkens with deep-seated tension. A whine escapes your gritted teeth, your toes curling as you cry out, his own moans rising in a desperate chorus. His hips twitch uncontrollably, his hand tugging at your hair in a blend of pain and pleasure as you climax together.

He struggles to maintain his rhythm, releasing deep inside you, each pulse flooding you with heat. The overwhelming fullness makes you gasp, each spurt pushing your limits.

Kyojuro pants heavily, his body shaking. Before you can catch your breath, he presses deeper, his cock still leaking copious amounts of cum. His grinding movements elicit sharp intakes of breath as he continues, not quite ready to stop. He hooks your knee for leverage, the obscene sloshing sound and the sensation of his heavy head bumping into that sensitive spot make you yelp in surprise.

"Please, Kyojuro, I can’t cum anymore. It’s too much," you plead, your voice slurred as your body shakes violently beneath him, tears streaming down your face.

"Just one more," he begs, his voice a desperate whisper. "You’re so good. Hold out for me, okay? Just one more."

It’s too much, your brain a fog of pleasure, but he keeps pushing, his desire insatiable. Your body trembles with every thrust, overly sensitive and on fire.

Kyojuro lowers himself above you, his grin as delirious as yours, but you can’t help but adore the satisfaction on his face. "That’s it... Take this dick, baby. Just don’t pass out on me. You’re too good to miss this," he murmurs, his breath hot and labored. Sweat drips from his forehead onto yours, mingling with the cum that leaks from you as he drives into you once more.

Each thrust stretches you, and with one final, overwhelming push, he loses control, pumping the last of his cum deep inside you. His eyes lock onto yours, distant yet filled with awe. "God... so hot. I love you."

Kyojuro pulls you into his arms, kissing you tenderly, licking the sweat from your neck and hairline. You swat at him weakly, complaining about how gross it is.

A deep chuckle rumbles through his chest as he eases out with a sigh. You nuzzle into his chest, murmuring, "I love you too, Kyo. Why do you always have to fuck me like it’s the last time..."

Kyojuro kisses your nose, cupping your cheek. "Because," he whispers, his voice tender as he strokes your feverish skin, "I have to make sure you always know the full extent of my love until the very end, ember of my heart."

His answer is sickeningly sweet, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He tightens his embrace, stroking your hair until you both drift into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: *Consensual kisses for whoever wants em* Thanks for reading <3 please reblog and like!

[leaky-bunny]

on vacation right now and i can't stop thinking about how incredibly sexy beach omo with a controlling dom would be. so i wrote a little fic about it. :)

picture it: me sitting in the sand by my dom's side as they're reclined on a nice chair, soaking up sun. it's hot, so i'm guzzling water to stay hydrated and watching the waves ripple and crash against the shore. eventually, i feel my bladder pang, and i stand up to go find a bathroom, only for them to grab my hand and hold me back.

"if you're trying to do what i think you're trying to do, don't. you sit back down, sweetheart."

i agree, shifting in the sand, this time with my legs pressed a little closer together.

time passes and the need gets much much worse. the ocean does nothing to help me, its sounds only driving me closer to the edge. i tug on my dom's arm, voice now a lot more urgent as i tell them i'm going to go in the water, hoping i can secretly let go once my bottom half is fully submerged and hidden. their eyebrow raises, obviously not impressed by my weak attempt at beating the system, but nevertheless they agree and stand up as well. the change in position sends me whimpering, but i try to cover it best i can with a cough (not very successfully though because they clearly hear and smirk). we stroll towards the water, my bladder contracting as i fight the urge to hold myself. despite the beach being calm, it's certainly not empty, and our fellow vacationers probably wouldn't appreciate such a show. the second my feet touch the waves, however, i gasp as a leak forces it's was out of me, soaking into my bikini as my dom pauses by my side.

"what's wrong sweetie, i though you wanted to go in?"

i flinch as another wave laps at my feet, legs firmly pressed together. "nghh, g-gonna pee...."

their eyes turn hard as they scowl, grabbing my hand and dragging my back to our spot in the sand. "no the fuck you're not, i gave you one rule. you are keeping all that piss inside you until you burst, understood?"

i wanna beg, wanna do something to relieve the arousal now coursing through my veins, but i just nod weakly and focus on not letting any more out.

it only takes another 10 minutes for me to leak again, enough to make a tiny wet patch in the sand beneath me. this time, i do moan, eyes glazed with the desire to let go, but my dom looks over and knows immediately what happened. they smile and reach over, pretending to adjust the bottom of my bikini, but instead pressing on the bulge of my bladder, hard and achingly full. another leak sprays out, even bigger than the next one, and with that my last shred of composure breaks.

"please- fuuuck, let me pee master, i have to go so bad and i've been so good, trying my best to hold it in just like you asked me to-"

they shush me, looking around, but finding no one has overhead or seems to care. "alright baby, calm down, i know you've done well for me. dig a little hole in the sand, ok? that'll be your potty."

i nod rapidly, too excited about the concept of finally peeing to be embarrassed by their word choice. my hands work quickly, scooping at the sand next to me until there's a hole large enough to sit over, positioned so my cunt is right above it. i stare up at my dom, eyes pleading, and they smile wickedly. "open your legs baby, show master how wet you are." i do, the dampness on my crotch extremely evident, and they shake their head in disappointment. "i would punish you for leaking, but here is not the place for that. i'm feeling very gracious, so you have permission to pee now. let it out bunny, i wanna see every drop."

the sentence is barely out of their mouth before i let go, the gushing sound filling the air as i piss a torrent. at first, the sand soaks it up almost instantly, but after a while, when the entire hole is soaked, a puddle begins to froth beneath me just like the ocean. i pant and shiver, eyes rolled back into my skull, not even noticing that my dom is staring at me as if they're going to eat me whole.

"good bunny, making a mess in public for me. bet that feels good, hm? i can't wait to show you how fucking horny you make me when we get back to the hotel. master's gonna make you cum so many times your brain will turn as fuzzy as that ocean foam."

[ronance4everbrainrot]

Some more little mostly Glassheart/CharmingHeart incorrect quotes

(with other ships)

Bridget: Why do you act like we’re three year olds?

Ella, exasperated: WHY?!?

Ella points at Red: YOU TRIED TO HYJACK A CAR!

Ella points at Chloe: YOU NEARLY JUMPED 20 FEET OFF A CARPARK!

Ella points at Bridget: AND YOU ATE MULTIPLE DRIED LEAVES AND ROCKS OFF THE GROUND!

Ella: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

(Ella is so done with them. Red wants to leave. Chloe wanted to do some parkour. And Bridget forgot they weren't in Wonderland.)

---

Red: I don’t know, this plan seems complicated.

Chloe: You once said that about an orange.

Red: They don’t make sense. Apples, you eat their clothes but oranges you don’t.

(Red finds Auradon weird)

---

Red: Are you okay?

Chloe, crying: Yeah, it was just the onions.

Red: *Picks up an onion* What the fuck did you say to Chloe?

(That's adorable. Red, honey. You're not in wonderland. Not everything can talk)

---

Red: Mom, if you don't shut up I'm going to throw myself out of the car.

*click*

Red: DID YOU JUST TURN THE FUCKING CHILDRENS' LOCK ON?!

(She cares. Even if it's just for her own gain.)

---

Red: *on the phone* Hey Mom, do you know my blood type?

Queen of Hearts: Of course, it's B-.

Red: Oh, I guessed wrong. Excuse me, nurse-!

((Red is in the hospital with Chloe. Red doesn't know her blood type so she just shrugs and guesses. She tells Chloe that she doesn't know and Chloe then makes some comment about getting the wrong blood type and it not being good, red finally decides to call her mother and ask her.))

---

Chloe: But what about Bridget?

Ella: Don't worry about them.

Ella: I once watched them fall down 5 flights of stairs, stand up, and keep eating their cupcake like nothing happened.

(Either Bridget is a people pleaser or she's just incredible. Probably both.)

---

Bridget: *accidentally eats something too spicy so their eyes start to water*

Ella: Bridget, look at me. It's okay. I would die for you. I love you so much. You're the best person I know.

Bridget: I'm not crying?

Ella, hugging Bridget's head: Shush baby, it's okay. Ella is here and they love you with their whole heart.

(wHy iS It sPicY. Bridget gay panicking)

---

Ella: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

(Facts. But also. Stop trying to deny the gay. Accept it fully)

---

Red: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weirdly.

--

Chloe: You use humor to deflect your trauma.

Red: Awww, thanks-

Chloe: That’s not a good thing.

Red: All I’m hearing is that you think I’m funny.

(trying to deflect again. You can't run forever Red)

---

Chloe: Stop thinking whatever you're thinking.

Red: Huh?

Chloe: You always make that face when you're about to say something stupid just to piss me off. So cut it out-

Red: I love you.

Chloe:

Red:

Red: Also, cereal qualifies as a soup.

Chloe: I KNEW IT!!

(Red had her Cheshire cat Smile growing. Canon)

---

Red: I was arrested for being too cool.

Chloe: The charges were dropped due to a lack of supporting evidence.

(Go Chloe! She and her comebacks are like this 🤞)

---

Chloe: I'm a nice person, but I'm about to start throwing rocks at people.

(Red was being crowded by a group of people and Chloe was about to throw hands. Or well, rocks.)

---

Chloe: You know, Red, you are the sun in my life.

Red: Why? Cause I'm smoking hot?

Chloe: Because it hurts my eyes looking at you.

(the only person that can bully Red is her Girlfriend, Chloe)

---

Cinderella: I’m not mad, I just need to know why you two had a fake ID.

Red: *Incoherent mumbling*

Cinderella: Huh?

Chloe: …You need to be 18 to hold the puppies at PetCo.

(Ella hadn't had a good laugh in a while. She's so relieved and amused)

---

Red: Are you mad?

Chloe: No.

Red: So sharpening your sword at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

(Actually yes. But maybe not at 3 am... Better watch out..)

---

Cinderella: How has life been treating you lately?

Queen of Hearts: Horribly.

(canon)

---

Hope you liked it!

I have more but not for now.

Byeeee

[nisuna]

NOOOO I LOST THE ASK ABOUT GOJO X GETO'S LITTLE SISTER 😭😭😭

So I'll just post it like this I'm so sorry to that person

The gist of it was that you got caught watching him shower and got fucked hard<3

But anyway, HALF of you voted for this one on my poll so here you go, hope you enjoy!!

Thank you for your take!!<3

~drabble~ 18+ MDNI

<3masterlist<3

TW: brief eating out, mating press, doggy, Satoru's very cocky and mean but oddly nice in the end, breathplay, choking, hair pulling, spanking, slut calling, used whore once

You didn't mean to look. You really didn't mean to, but when you saw the bathroom door slightly ajar and heard his humming you had a moment of weakness. And you felt your thighs squish together once you took a peek inside. Darn. There he was, naked and in all of his glory. You saw the water droplets run down the dips of his trained back, god, has he always been this ripped? Your eyes trailed down to his ass...cute, you thought to yourself. Then your eyes wandered to his strong legs and as soon as you heard a groan your heart stopped. Your eyes shot up only to see him stretch his arms above his head. You sighed in relieve and totally missed the way the white haired man in front of you shot you a glance with a smirk. He'll indulge you for now. When you looked up again, he was back to flexing his huge arms. Big palms and thick fingers were massaging the shampoo in his hair. You felt your mouth go dry.

Even though Satoru was slimmer than your brother he was a bit taller, but right now he just looked so incredibly big in every sense of the word. For as long as you could remember he always towered over you. He used to tease you about it, but now you didn't feel annoyed at the height difference anymore. No, you felt weak. As your thoughts kept wandering you wished that he would turn around so you could catch a glance of his toned chest and hard abs, maybe even his-

You froze when you heard his voice, "Are you just going to stand there or will you join me?"

Huh?... What? was all you could think, when you tried to hide behind the doorframe.

"C'mon what wrong? You look likea deer caught in headlight. You didn't think I saw you staring this whole time? I even put on a show for you. Didn't you like it?", you heard foot steps come your way and as you were about to run away a naked Satoru wearing a towel, that hung so dangerously low on hips you could see his happy trail peeking out, stood in front of you grinning. "I think your face is telling me you ate that right up."

Gulp.

"Oh no I didn't see anything I just came here and was about to leave haha sorry," you lied, completely avoiding eye contact. Just as you were slowly backing away from him he grabbed your wrist keeping you in place, "Oohh-tto, hold up where ya goin', pretty girl. Can't blame ya for staring, hmm? So dirty watching your brother's best friend shower..", he mumbled pulling you closer.

"I said I'm sorry please-", he muffled your sentence with pressing his lips against yours, making you squirm in his grasp. You pulled away with a gasp.

"Satoru, what are you-?"

"I'm giving you exactly what you want. Don't lie to me. How long have you had a crush on me hm?

"Stop, It's not what you-"

Putting his other arm around your waist he pulled you into his damp body. "Then why are you blushing so hard right now~ Also, don't you think it's unfair?

what?

"You saw me naked, now's my turn.~"

-

"You're so sensitive, baby", he said between licks, curling his fingers inside your dripping cunt. "You sure you're not a virgin?"

"Mhh, stop.. I've had boys before, okay, just shut up and-"

"Those boys ever make ya cum?"

Your silence spoke volumes.

He pulled away from between your legs with a sigh, pity in his big blue eyes, "Don't worry, I'll show you how real men fuck. Fuck those boys."

Fuck those boys indeed.

Before you knew it you were on your back, legs pressed against your chest as you watched Satoru bottom out in your pussy.

"Shit- you're so tight. Baby relax, you're gonna snap my dick off if you don't."

"Can't- can't help it, you're so big, fuck.. feels good."

"Yeah? Like getting your cunt stuffed by your brother's best friend, hm?"

All you could do was whine at his words as he started moving his hips against yours. With every hit of his tip against the spongy spot inside of you your moans and mewls of his name grew in volume.

"Shh not so loud", he shushed you with his palm over your mouth, "We wouldn't want your brother finding out his little sister's being such a slut right now, yeah? Or that you were caught oogling me while showering? Hmm, want your brother to see you like this, you'd get off on that, wouldn't you? Fucking whore. He'll definitely notice if you keep being that loud."

"Noo.. don't say that please, mmhh I'm trying my best it just ah- feels so good. I'll try to be quiet it's just so hard I can't.", you whined, tears collecting at the corners of your eyes from his harsh words, as you tried to hold your legs up with shaking hands.

"I think I can help you out with that.", he whispered as he wrapped his long fingers around your neck, momentarily cutting off your airflow, which made you squeal. Eyes blown wide open.

Your panicked expression made him loosen his grip. "Shh, don't worry. I'll try to be gentle. I'll make you feel reaaal good.", with that he picked up his pace alternating between letting you breathe and choking you. He felt you gush at each squeeze of his hand. "You're so messy for me. You like being choked? You feelin' good? I'll make ya feel even better. C'mon on, all fours."

After a particularly hard squeeze he let go of your neck and pulled out of you. You sucked in a deep breath as you got up, sticking your ass out.

"Oh fuck, such a nice view. Prettiest pussy I've ever seen. And that ass, shit." He made you yelp as he spanked your ass, hard.

You were about to speak up, only to get interrupted by another mean spank, while he pushed his cock back inside your cunt. It made you arch your back impossibly more while you burried your head in the pillows below you, letting out pathetic moans.

"That's right, keep that pretty mouth shut and enjoy.", he slurred while holding your hips in place, stuffing you to the brim. He kept his relentless pace, spanking you from time to time, which only made you sob and squirm.

"You're so mean to me...", you whined into the pillows.

He felt his heart drop a bit. Oh no, did he overdo it?

His harsh thrusts turned into sensual rolls of his hips, "Shh 'm sorry baby. Cmon, I'll make it up to ya. I'll even play with your pretty little clit. See? All better now, huh?", he mused.

As he leaned forward to push his thick fingers onto your puffy clit all of your sadness faded, replaced by pure bliss. The mewls you let out made him grin.

"See, all better now hm? I'll make ya cum so hard, you'll never find someone better."

So cocky.. gaaah, but he does it so well. You'll let it slide this once.

"Ah- mmh yeah like that please~", you cried

Your words made him pick up his speed again, "Good girl. Gonna fuck you good. I got you." he slurred while kissing your back which only made your arch deeper as you squeezed him tight.

"God, you're gonna be the death of me. You're so tight and tiny down there, it's coiling around me nicely."

The way he was talking to you made you whine as you felt yourself getting close.

"'Toruu so good oh god-"

"Yeah? 'm I the best you ever had?", he questioned, cruelly slowing his fingers to get an answer out of you.

So annoying, but you indulged him. You'll say anything to cum on his cock right now.

"Yeah you're so good, the best. Only want you please, please make me cum. Need it so bad Toruuuu~"

His fingers went back to rubbing thick circles into your clit as he groaned, "Oh fuck, can't say no to you. Okay then, cum round my cock. Make a mess of me, pretty."

As soon as he uttered those words you let out a drawn out mewl, creaming around him, squeezing so tight he almost chocked on a breath

"Yeah thats a good girl, so good for me.", he praised you trough your high as your tongue lolled out and your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

Thank yous spilled out of your mouth, while he rubbed you into overstimulation. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he moved his hand from your clit to your hair, pulling your back flush against his chest

"'M gonna cum inside yeah? You're gonna take it all right?"

"YEAH PLEASE FILL ME UP SATORU!!"

"Shit", he thought to himself and with a few more thrusts he filled you up, cum already dripping down your leg.

When he pulled out, you fully expected him to just leave you there. But to your surprise he pulled you in a tight embrace, kissing the top of your head.

"You did so well. I hope I wasn't too harsh.", his voice sounded gentle and genuine.

Whoa..

"No, it's fine.. it was really hot actually. Thank you."

"Hehe", he grinned, squeezing you tight. "I know right, I'm the best."

You jabbed him in the ribs. "Don't get too cocky, you only made me cum once so far."

"Sorry, sorry can't help it if it's you." he laughed, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. "Is that a challenge? Wanna see how many times I can make ya cum, no problem-"

"Y/N? Satoruuu~?", you both felt a chill run down your spines.

oh fuck.

"I hope to god you weren't just doing what I think you were~~", your brother mused.

Oh you were so dead. Both of you.

----

Feel free to send me your Hot Takes as well ^^

[geeky-politics-46]

Kinktober 2023 - Day 9

Facesitting with Arthur Shelby

"A New Addiction"

Smut - Explicit content - NSFW - 18+ only!

Summary: After a bad day Arthur finds a new favorite way to relieve his stress.

Warnings: Smut (NSFW) - 18+ ONLY - oral sex, light dirty talk, swearing, pet names, hair pulling, reference to vaginal sex

You could tell Arthur had had a bad day when he came over to the couch and practically crawled into your lap. Nuzzling his face into your chest and wrapping his arms around your waist. Sighing as you started rubbing his back and pressing kisses onto the top of his head. You knew when he was this clingy he didn't really want to talk. Instead, he just wanted affection. 

It didn't take long for him to start unbuttoning the top of your blouse and placing kisses between your breasts. Occasionally leaving a soft nip against your skin. You could feel him smile against your skin when his mustache would make you giggle every now and then.

"Come on, Arthur. Let's go to bed. I can tell you've had a long day. We can have dinner later."

"Well I am hungry, love, but not for food." 

You rolled your eyes as you took him by the hand and led him to your shared bedroom. Closing and locking the door behind you since his brothers rarely bothered knocking and preferred to just let themselves in. By the time you turned around, Arthur had already undone his shirt and was quickly moving onto his pants. 

"I have an idea, love. I want you to sit on my fuckin' face, yeah? I don't want to see anything but you above me grinding that pretty little pussy on my face." 

You blushed at the suggestion even as Arthur came over to start undressing you too now that he was down to his boxers. A smile now back on his face and a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. Tossing your clothes to the side until he had you completely naked. 

This time leading you over to the bed. Plopping down in the middle of the bed and patting the spots on either side of his head. Signaling where he wanted you before holding one hand out to help you up on the bed and moving one hand to palm his cock through his boxers. The tent there growing larger by the minute, even though you hadn't even touched him yet.

You took his hand and started crawling onto the bed. Kneeling up by Arthur's shoulders but not yet moving to straddle his face as he asked. Still unsure whether you should do what he had requested. You didn't want to accidentally suffocate him. 

"I'm not sure, Arthur. What if I hurt you? What if you can't breathe?"

He chuckled and started pulling you to sit on his chest. One leg thrown over each side of his body. 

"You really think you can hurt me, darlin'? Besides, if I die because you suffocate me with your cunt I'll die a happy man. Now, be a good girl and sit on my fuckin' face!"

With that, he grabbed a hold of both of your ass cheeks and forcibly pulled you up over his mouth. Not giving you any time to react before latching his mouth over your sex and began licking up over your slit. A moan pulled from your chest as you reached to grab ahold of the metal rods of the bedframe and the wall to stabilize yourself. 

"Oh my God, Arthur!" 

He pulled one hand back and slapped your ass making you buck against his face. A groan erupting from his lips at the feeling of you grinding on him and sending vibrations through your cunt. His mustache tickling your clit perfectly as he devoured you like a man starved.

His tongue probing inside of you, then moving back to licking you up and down. All the while managing to never leave your clit unattended. It felt so incredible that you couldn't help but rut yourself against him.

He happily let you fuck yourself on his tongue. Stroking all the right spots on your inner walls. You had no idea Arthur's tongue was so long until now. Your moans easily carried through the thin walls of the house. If Tommy or John dared to enter the front door they would surely hear. Hell you wouldn't be surprised if the neighbors could hear you.

You gazed down at your lover and really couldn't care less if they did hear. Bringing one hand down to grab a hold of his light brown, almost ginger hair. Leaving your other hand gripping the bars of the metal bed frame for balance. Although  with Arthur's hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your soft flesh so hard they were sure to leave bruises, you knew he wouldn't let you fall.

The more you rode his face the more he groaned in delight into your dripping cunt. Eventually you felt him start thrusting his hips up against nothing. The thought that Arthur was getting so much pleasure from just eating your pussy making a fire start to burn in your low belly. 

When he could feel your cunt start to flutter and tense around his tongue Arthur couldn't help but whisper encouragements. You couldn't decide if he was talking to you or your pussy, but either way his words were steadily pushing you towards your climax. 

"That's it, pretty girl. Know that feels good. Feel you getting ready to cream on my tongue. That's my good girl. Give me all you got, lovey. I want it all." 

He stopped talking only to suck your clit into his mouth and start stroking it with his tongue. Your whole body was on fire as your hips started to stutter and all your muscles clenched. 

"Oh God, Arthur, I'm gonna cum! Don't fucking stop!"

It seemed impossible, but Arthur somehow started sucking harder and licking faster. The feeling of his blue eyes watching you making your body tingle. Your eyes were squeezed shut, and your brow coated with a light sheen of sweat. A guttural groan and a high-pitched whine verging on a scream came from you as you had the strongest orgasm you had ever had.

Your whole body spasming as your cum flooded Arthur's mouth. In that moment he decided you were far better and way more addictive than any whiskey or snow could ever be. He would throw every other substance away for the taste of you on his tongue and the image of your naked body above him shaking and sobbing from pleasure. 

You leaned to the side, moving to dismount Arthur's chest. Still in a daze from the mind melting orgasm he had just given you, assuming that he would want either a fuck or blow job in return. You would happily give him either, or even both after how hard he made you cum. 

Jarred from your train of thought when you felt Arthur's strong hands flex to keep you not only perched on top of him but moving back up towards his face. A wide smile on his lips, still shining from your release, as he caught your quizzical gaze. 

"Didn't think I was done, did ya, love? I think I found my new favorite way to relieve stress, and I'm still feeling a bit tense." 

--------------------------------

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[roseykat]

can you maybe possibly hopefully write kitty reader with other members..? I'm more curious about your thoughts on hyung line

thank you anon! Here is hyung line and I might do a maknae line at some point to follow this one up.

(these are nsfw so read with caution)

I've mentioned Chan before with this idea but to reiterate, Chan can usually deal with her whenever she goes into heat - to a certain extent. He can tame her whenever she misbehaves such as by telling her off or setting up soft rules for her to follow - nothing harsh or drastic. But, my hard thoughts about kitty!reader and Chan are here x

Minho is a cat magnet and just has a lot of knowledge about them, their nature, behaviour, habits and whatnot. So when he and reader first met, and after she told him about her complexes to do with her anatomy, he just instantly knew and understood. There was no judgement whatsoever.

Now, Minho is physically articulate with how to 'deal' with her especially when it comes to her heat. He can't comprehend how exhausting it is for her to go through it and tries to make it as comfortable as possible and tends to her needs as much as he can - as much as his stamina can.

At times she wants to stop, to stop cumming whenever she needs to use dildos or vibrators to satiate her primal needs. Then again, Minho knows she can't help it. This is literally how she was designed. Now if it's kitty!Minho and kitty!reader, he would have her heats covered. He'd be able to handle them every day of the week, no sweat. He gives her his seed when she wants it - breeds her when she asks for it and would never get tired.

Changbin is a very observant person and every day that goes by, he learns something new about his kitty!reader. He discovers that she won't let others play with her tail, but when it comes to him it's fine. He knows that she likes being scratched lightly behind her ears and prefers to rest between his legs whenever they both get the chance.

Then at times, she can be so stubborn and doesn’t listen to him. Changbin notices that this is usually the case three or four days out from the first day of her heat to which he does his best track. She gets aggressive. Won't let him touch her, won't let him go near her space, becomes a bit irrational - but the second her heat hits, she’s all over Changbin.

He can keep up with her for a certain amount of time each day of the week and eventually gets worn out. But that still doesn't stop him from helping her. At the end of her heat, she's run to the ground and completely exhausted. That's when Changbin will pull out the best self-care methods such as running her hot baths, giving her massages to relieve her tired and sore muscles, feeding her well, and relaxing with her - all so she can come down from an incredibly tough week.

Hyunjin just loves, loves, loooooves teasing his pretty kitty!reader. He thinks she’s so cute when he does something annoying to make her hiss. For instance, he knows the most sensitive parts of her body, in particular her neck and ears, so sometimes he will just come up behind her and start kissing her neck to which she can’t help but submit to the feeling and starts melting in his arms. It’s in her nature after all.

In saying that, when it comes to her heats, Hyunjin is just as annoying if not slightly sadistic about it. He finds it interesting how antsy, clingy, handsy and horny she can get during the days where she has to claw at Hyunjin to fuck her. He makes use of her being in this state by overstimulating her until she’s crying and begging him to stop even though, anatomically speaking, she needs him to continue.

Every day throughout the week, Hyunjin has new ways of subduing her primal needs. On the occasion, he will use toys to help her. But he finds that making her cum himself, whether it’s with his fingers, mouth or cock, is much more rewarding.

[captainjamster]

Price x Reader - Training and Punishment

Pairing(s): John Price x Reader Warnings: NSFW, blowjob, face-fucking, authority imbalance, choking, Y/N is used once, light dom/sub, reader is short and a bit of a brat, also not so subtle ghost/soap if you squint Wordcount: 6.4k Summary: Captain Price is a man that prides himself on his strong sense of justice and sensibility - so he knows that stupid feelings for his inferiors are the last thing he should be having. Yet thoughts of a new Second Lieutenant plague his mind after an off-hand comment, and when he sees the opportunity for an intimate scolding, he quickly finds it incredibly hard to walk the line between his desires and maintaining professionalism. AO3 Link: Right here! <3

A/N: I've been meaning to post this on Tumblr for a while, but I've been holding onto it so I can post it when I'm struggling to write/upload - aka right now :p

This was the first COD fanfic I ever wrote and uploaded, and I think it's one of my most popular so I'm proud lol

Full fic is under the cut <3

John Price is a good man.

At least, he thinks that he is for the kind of man that the world has made Price to be.

But lately, devilish temptation has been weighing on his shoulders in an unfamiliar way.

"Good morning, Captain."

Your eyes glance over him in a flash that he hopes he doesn’t imagine as you settle in your chair. Price doesn't care for formal seating positions in these meetings, but as you take your seat just two across from his, he can't tell whether he appreciates that decision or not.

The scent of your shampoo and fresh soap tickles his nose and he takes a sharp breath in, lustful images flooding into his mind like they were just waiting for an excuse. But like the hardened, controlled man Price tells himself that he is, he's shaking away the thoughts before they can go any further.

"Good morning, Second Lieutenant."

For a second he isn't sure whether you appreciated his reflection of rank in his greeting, but as he sees the corners of your lips quirk, a delighted warmth builds in his stomach. Before he can find anything else to say, Ghost pushes through the doorway, nodding at Price. Price doesn't even have to raise an eyebrow before Ghost speaks gruffly. "Takin' a piss. Said he'd be quick."

The large man seats himself at the opposite side of the round table and to anyone else it would seem like a calculated move to make distance, but as you pour over your morning notes, Price notices how Ghost shifts his foot to push the chair next to him out in expectation.

The files are still warm in his folder as Price opens it, spreading out training schedules, operation plans, tactical maps and other notes to go over. Ghost's absence of a folder is displeasing to Price, but equally unsurprising. As he shifts through the folder and passes two pieces of paper to Ghost, he's grateful that at least Ghost gets his paperwork done, compared to another one of his Lieutenants.

Like that Lieutenant was summoned by Price's thought, Soap can be heard from the corridor before he even enters the room, trailing behind Gaz as he babbles about something. His demeanour is too bright for such an early morning start, but at least he looks much more awake than Gaz, who is nursing a steaming cup of coffee between his hands, strong enough for Price to smell immediately.

"Mornin' Cap'!"

"Captain."

Soap takes the pushed-out seat next to Ghost, and as Gaz follows suit, Price is relieved to see they've managed to bring their folders; despite how he cringes at the torn, dog-eared edges. Ghost hands Soap the second paper as Price slides another to Gaz across the table.

Two other second lieutenants make their way through the door. They move to sit next to you, finding companionship amongst the shared rank, though Price notices one falter as they observe your proximity to him. It was a brazen move to seat yourself so close to the captain. He likes your boldness, respectful but confident. As a couple others filter in and take their seats, Price begins the meeting. It's a standard monthly meeting, something Price has done so many times he doesn't even need to think, but today he feels nervous. It would make him a poor excuse for a captain if he let it slip him up, so he powers through the unrest in his stomach each time his eyes catch yours.

He tries to keep his eyes off you during the meeting, tearing his eyes away each time he glances at you. When you stand to speak, he almost feels relieved to have a reason to look at you while you address the table. Price doesn't know why he finds himself so distracted by you during the meeting, or why he wants there to be something behind the way your eyes linger on him.

When he dismisses the meeting, his shoulders release a tension he didn't know he was holding. Another effect of your presence, he thinks, and this realisation sparks something impulsive within him. He watches as everyone moves to the door, eyeing you lagging behind as you shuffle your notes, a pace behind your companions.

"(Y/N)."

Your name is out of his mouth before he realises it and you pause in your step, turning to look at him. "I..." Price falters, wracking his brain for something. "You spoke well in the meeting." He nods stiffly and manages a smile, kicking himself for speaking in the first place.

"- no way the Lieutenant worked for it; I'm telling you the bitch sucked someone off."

Confusion furrows your brow for a moment, but you look pleased as you smile, nodding back in thanks as you continue out the door. Price sinks back down into his chair, pulling a cigar and lighter from a pocket on his pants and sparking it. Off the field, he tries to limit himself to just a morning and afternoon smoke – not that he’s happy about it. He takes a long, slow drag as he eyes the "no smoking indoors" sign, neatly paired with the smoke detector that seems to be blinking at him disapprovingly. Next to fucking his inferior officer so hard they couldn't walk for days, smoking indoors seemed like a minor rule to break.

----------

It had started weeks ago, after a bitter comment he half-heard from some rookies in the common room after an exhausting session, designed during the previous monthly meeting and run under your command.

Their backs were turned to Price as they sat at the table, unaware he stood a distance behind them – seeing the captain occupying such spaces was rare, his work keeping him cooped in his office, and it was only checking the supplies that needed to be replenished that had brought him here.

"The Captain is too old to fuck with her, I'd bet Lieutenant McTavish. She serves under him anyway, yeah?"

The other rookie scoffed. "I bet she serves under him alright."

Price decided he’d heard enough and cleared his throat, turning around and stepping over. The soldiers bolted up, standing to attention.

There was no need for you to hear this, he mused, especially when he could handle it himself.

"Finished with training, boys?" They respond with a “yes sir” in unison, and Price saw the hope in their eyes that he missed their conversation.

"Not if you have breath to talk like that. Do it again, whole thing."

A cruel punishment when an office discussion would have served, motivated by the flush of anger he felt in the moment at the suggestion his officers would be so easily corrupted. But as he laid in bed that night, their words echoed through his mind. Sleeping with you? He could genuinely say he had never thought of that before; the battlefield keeps his mind hostage, no space for fleeting fantasies. He was a good captain and respected his inferiors, perhaps beyond what other captains would deem as wise. He wasn't going to fantasise about you because you were a human with breasts and a vagina.

But then he thinks about your first meeting with the team, remembers shaking your hand, the firm grip warming his palm as you beamed at him. Your hands were soft in his, barely weathered despite your time in the field. Soap was delighted at being the only Lieutenant assigned a Second Lieutenant that had to be transferred in, despite Price's insistence that it was a purely random decision to implement someone trained in new combat drills. You were equally as smile-y as the Scot behind you, and Price thought if your smile was any brighter it would hurt his eyes.

Your hands and that beautiful mouth. He wonders if all of you is soft, how your work has left you scarred, what else is hidden underneath that tight-fitting uniform and heavy gear. How it would feel to run his hand up your arm, pull him against you under the sheets, his fingers wet with your spit as your tongue runs over them, keeping those pretty eyes locked with his as he’s pushing right up against there –

He shoves his face against the pillow until his lungs ache for oxygen, only pulling back for a gulp of air when he feels the burning in his lower stomach dissipate. These were just silly thoughts the rookies planted in his mind, and his tired brain indulging in primal nonsense. There was nothing deeper, certainly nothing regarding you. You were a good recruit and he liked that; he’s just looking out for you, right?

I would’ve reprimanded any junior talking about their lieutenant that way – nothing more.

For a second he falters, dragging his step as his brain works to compute the next best option; does he wave? Pretend he doesn’t see you, lost in thought? Smile and hope you don’t want to stop for a conversation, busy with work?

A small spark of rage reignites within him as he thinks of the comments, rolling himself onto his side with a huff. And as he falls asleep, the captain tried to ignore the quiet voice asking him whether he feels angry at the idea of his Lieutenants being tempted, or if it was the temptation being you.

----------

The next time he bumps into you is the evening a few days after the meeting, when dinner has finished, and most are retiring to their rooms. There's an unmanageable amount of folders in your arms as you hurry down the halls.

“Lose another bet with Soap?”

It wasn't that he was hoping to avoid you, but your presence makes him feel stupid, unassertive as he fumbles uncharacteristically through sentences. The next morning after his encounter with the rookies, he burnt himself pouring water into his mug when you walked in, and soon Price realised he stumbled every time he noticed your presence. The latest meeting affirmed what Price had been trying to deny; not only did you stir something within him, the times you look at him make him hope you feel something back.

Your eyes automatically flicker to him as each footstep brings you closer, a smile growing on your face when you recognise him, accompanied by a respectful nod. He could just nod back and keep on walking. Yet despite all his hesitancy, he finds himself to be the first one opening his mouth.

You let out a laugh this time, better than the small smile he got before and after the meeting. He can’t help the way that a smile tugs at his lips from just hearing the melody. The papers rustle as you readjust your slipping grip to stop and talk, and he prays that you don’t notice his lingering look at the way the folders pressed against your chest.

“Let me help you, soldier.”

From the apprehension that flashes across your face, he can predict your rejection before it leaves your mouth, cutting you off.

“You think a captain doesn’t do paperwork too? C’mon. You’ll save me from doing more when you drop those folders and lose something important; missing file reports are a bloody bastard to get done.”

To his relief, the smile returns and blooms into a grin.

“When you put it that way sir, I can’t refuse.”

You struggle to keep everything organised as you separate the piles, and Price instinctively swoops his arms underneath yours to catch any strays that might fall. The move pulls him closer to you, and he hates how he can feel his heart beating faster in his chest. Mumbling a thanks, you manage to divide the stack and hold out a half. Price grabs them, ignoring the way his fingers brush over yours as they hold the stack steady. The pile he takes is heavier than it looks, and he’s surprised you were carrying double the weight without more strain. They’re warm from your grip and he ignores the terribly childish thought about how this is some kind of indirect hug.

“Gettin’ in some extra weight training lugging this around, son. Got a strong set of arms on you.”

He needs to stop complimenting you during every goddamn interaction.

“Thank you sir, guess it’s assurance our training works well. It’s just to my office; you won’t have to carry them for long.”

He hums in approval, letting silence fall between you as he keeps a slow pace, listening to your footsteps fall in tandem. The hallways are empty, and a selfish part of him hopes they stay that way as he basks in your presence.

“It wasn’t a bet, by the way.”

“Sorry?”

“The paperwork, sir, it wasn’t a bet. It was actually really funny – we had some time to kill after training, and Lieutenant Riley and Lieutenant McTavish thought they would try and give me some lessons on hand-to-hand combat.”

“Based on your evaluation feedback, eh? Good lad, working for improvement.”

His approval seems to bring a warm flush to your cheeks that he can just catch in the poor barrack lighting, and suddenly he’s not sure he wants to stop complimenting you.

“Yes sir, thank you sir. L.T. McTavish promised me some lessons and it was convenient that Lieutenant Riley was there too.”

“What was so funny about training, then?”

He can see the door to your office come into view as you turn the corner, and his weary arms feel a little grateful it isn’t much further.

“Oh, it wasn’t the training, sir! They decided to show me some basic combat, and when we’d played around with that, we got to using prop guns as close combat weapons. After a while they started using the guns as weapons to fight each other, and then – “

Price frowns as you cut yourself off sharply, falling silent as the smile drops from your face. He raises a thick eyebrow at the break in speech, but your eyes are suddenly glued to your destination of the door with a feverish interest.

“And then?”

There’s a hesitant quiet before you respond, and Price thinks he can almost hear the gears in your brain turning.

“Lieutenant McTavish… thought it was not a good idea. Because it was irresponsible and could break the decoys or hurt someone.”

If the pause wasn’t suspicious enough, the (rather specific) answer most certainly was. Lieutenant McTavish? Thinking something is a bad idea? You come to a halt at the door, and he stops in turn, watching you.

“And that was funny?”

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

The door swings open as you turn the knob, stepping in and letting the folders fall on the desk with a sigh of relief. Price follows suit, letting the door fall closed behind him as he places his folders neatly next to the pile on the table before turning to you, crossing his arms and resting his hip against the desks’ edge. You stand next to him in front of the desk, eyes flickering between his intimidatingly relaxed stature and the closed door. Instinctively assessing the room and its exit points. Like prey.

“Can’t imagine McTavish would suddenly find such sensibility in the middle of fuckin’ around.”

The way your eyes look anywhere but his face would be amusing if he wasn’t slightly concerned about the state of his Lieutenants and the training equipment. Though, he assumes since Soap and Ghost thought they could get away with it by using you as their little lackey, nothing serious enough had happened to warrant any immediate action; he would confirm with his lieutenants later though, knowing their irritating tendency to shrug off anything but life-threatening injuries.

“You had to…” He watches you swallow as your eyes finally meet his. “You had to be there to get it, just... Funny in the moment kind of thing.”

“Right, right, ‘course. So, if I was to look through these folders…” He picks up one sitting on top just to make a point, watching your reaction. “… This extra paperwork wouldn’t happen to be accident report and equipment replacement forms, eh?”

Nothing comes from your lips as you part them to speak, and you settle for a nervous shake of your head. He notices the flexing of your arms as they rest behind your back, at an informal stance of attention; fiddling with your hands, he suspects, and the way he’s making you nervous sends a rush to his head. You were never arrogant in your responses, but sure and steady, and the sudden change in your demeanour was thrilling to him. Lying to others clearly escaped your many capabilities, and although he could just bust you right now, he doesn’t.

“And if I went to the infirmary logs, I wouldn’t find a muppet or two listed as treated at some point today? All prop guns will be neatly organised in their respective storage spots?”

There’s a pleading in your eyes as they meet his again, and Price knows he should stop tormenting you with this game. That this game is leading his mind to a dangerous place, and he doesn’t know how long he can maintain the boundaries of professionalism as you tremble in front of him. But he won’t be the first one to break, and something inside him can’t but enjoy the interaction, egging him on – so he lets you suffer before applying more pressure.

“You were asked a question, soldier.”

“Sir?”

He watches you flounder for a few more seconds, stuttering and stumbling over the excuses racing through your mind. “I-I think I should start my work sir, thank you for helping me carry-“

As you reach out to take a folder from the top of the pile, he uncrosses his arms and moves in a flash to capture your hand against its surface, pinning it there.

The silence is almost ringing in his ears as he takes a moment to watch you, caught into leaning closer towards him. If Price took not even a step closer, he’d be towering over you; any further and he could feel you pressed up against him.

“I think there’s something you’re not telling me. S’important to keep the Captain informed.”

Every muscle screams at him to give in, to pounce on you. To satisfy the urge to move he slides his arm between you to put the folder back on the table. He lets it fall from his grip before he forces it back to his side, goosebumps prickling where his arm brushes against your shirt. He doesn’t know what miracle is keeping his self-control hanging by a thread, but he’s listlessly thanking every lesson in self-restraint and patience he’s had. He can’t keep the gruffness out of his voice, scratchy as it rumbles out of him.

“Not bein’ entirely honest.”

His eyes flicker down to your lips, and the stutter in your breath tells him that he wasn’t as inconspicuous as he hoped. But you don’t pull away and your hand stays under his, warm, the shaking lulled beneath his steadying hand.

“Sir…”

He takes the step closer, keeping his hand atop of yours. You need to look up to keep eye contact with the captain, and he knows that this is the last time he’s ever going to get to be this intimate with you. Even as they rush by faster than he can keep up with, one stream of thought is loudest: he can’t be doing this. Price had seen this path before, dismissed soldiers from service who had followed it. Even if he did resign to the idea he liked you, it couldn’t go anywhere. Two soldiers couldn’t fraternise, let alone an inferior and their captain.

And it wouldn’t even matter; you were going to pull away. He was making you nervous, wishfully interpreting your fear as desire. Classic fuckin’ projection. This was going too far; a creepy, old officer taking advantage of a good, young soldier. He can’t make himself move, can’t retract his hand from yours, and he knows it’s a matter of time before you do it for him. He breathes in your scent, surprised he can even inhale and waits for you to move, wishing the moment wouldn’t end.

The world doesn’t feel real when you make the first, most unexpected move. You close the gap, body finally against his, and he knows that this is all a dream when your lips connect. But the way your hand cups his cheeks, rubs against the bristle of his beard feels so real, and the shock begins to subside as he kisses back tenderly, afraid the move will shatter whatever illusion he’s experiencing.

His heart wrenches as you’re pulling back too soon, missing your skin against his lips and cheek, but looking at your expression immediately tells him why. Something almost like shame stirs when he realises he’s been paying enough attention to you that reading your thoughts has become easier, but it’s not a challenge when they’re just an echo of his own; we shouldn’t do this, I shouldn’t have done that, we need to stop right now. But Price’s thread of self-control has snapped – it snapped the moment your lips met his – and he doesn’t care about regret or reservations anymore.

There’s only one thing that’s stopping him. He wants to be sure you want this, wants to know this isn’t a mistake.

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t–“

“Will y’do it again?”

The question makes you look as stunned as he feels by the kiss, and the playing field suddenly feels a lot more level. Confidence surges back into him, and as words escape you once more, he has a better idea.

“Just tell me to stop.”

His empty hand snakes to your waist and pulls you back into him, letting you rest for a few moments as he waits for rejection. Nothing but a small huff escapes you at the collision, and Price has never moved faster in his life. When your lips meet again, he kisses you like every second breathing is a waste of time; passionate, breathless and hungry. Finally unpinning your hand from the folder, he moves it against his chest. It spurs you to life, fisting the material in a tight grip as your other hand makes itself home in his hair. Price feels himself twitch in anticipation for the moment that it’s guiding him between your legs, and the jolt keeps him grounded. He needs to take it slow, give you enough time to stop. This was already taking too much in his mind, and he was only stealing as much as you would give him. But the way you kiss him back is almost bruising, and the grip on his shirt wouldn’t let him step back if he tried. He breaks the kiss to press his mouth into your neck, and the way you whimper rips a groan from somewhere deep. It takes effort that makes his body hurt to not bite down as he leaves a trail of kisses, finding a place on your collarbone to suck at, until there’s the smallest mark fluorescing against your skin.

Straightening up lets him take a good look at you, flushed and out of breath from his ministrations. He wishes that he’d done this sooner, and an overwhelming urge to make up for lost time hits him so hard that he feels lightheaded. It’s delightfully easy for the captain to man-handle you, spinning you against the desk and nudging your thighs apart with a careful but firm knee. The hand that was in his hair clutches his shoulder for support, and he keeps his hand steady on your waist. But his knee doesn’t press up yet, keeping his distance.

“Y’know what happens to inferiors when they disobey their superiors, don’t you?”

The way your pupils dilate is exhilarating and he feels him twitch again, slowly pressing against the tightness of his pants. Whatever doubt that’s rooted in his brain is drowning underneath the hunger for you, but he refuses to take chances. He can feel the need rising in his stomach, and the fiendish desires that come with it. He wants you to know what you’re getting into – and maybe a small part of him is still in denial, craving reassurance. One last chance to back out.

“They get punished.”

Anything; the grip on his shirt slacking, a twitch backwards, a crease in your brow. But you just peer up at him with anticipation, unswayed by his conviction, jaw slightly agape as he watches the words sink in. He takes his hand from his chest where it encapsulates yours, bringing it to meld against the plush of your cheek, and the way your bottom lip catches under the thumb tracing it has his mind set on what’s coming next. You kiss the pad of his thumb, and as a small hiss slips from him, something sparkles in your eyes.

“Punished? I’m just doing paperwork, like I’m told, sir.”

Then he feels it; the roll of your hips, barely enough to brush your crotch against his thigh. His grip on your waist stiffens as he tries not to tremble. Your breath catches in your throat at the pressure, and he hopes it frightens you. So unaware of what he wants to do to you.

“Doing like you’re told?”

A stray piece of hair brushes against his hand and he pushes it behind your ear, meticulously using the move to drag his fingers down your neck until he can extend his digits, fitting your neck into the crook of his hand. Feeling you swallow underneath his grip is pushing him, and the way he throbs against the seam of his pants is fighting his urge to drag this moment out until he can commit it to memory.

“Funny. I didn’t tell your hips to move. Didn’t tell you to give me cheek.”

With his hand around your throat, you still give him that bratty attitude.

“Part of the service sir, free of charge.”

He has no question that you want this, the reality has sunk in, and it’s only a matter of how fast he can get you on your knees.

“Second Lieutenant, I think you’ve forgotten how this works.”

A gasp breaks from you as he tightens his grip, just enough to make breathing difficult.

“I think you… need another lesson. Y’need a reminder of what your mouth is for, how you should be usin’ it. As Captain of this platoon, it’s my duty to reinforce punishment for misbehaviours.”

“You report to my Lieutenants. My Lieutenants report to me. I am your Captain. You report to me, with honesty.”

Price squeezes harder, completely restricting your airway, watching as your face reddens.

The hand around your throat falls to his side, and he lets go of your waist to pull your hand from his shirt, the fabric wrinkled and creased. It pains him to vacate his leg from the warm, plush thighs around it as he takes a step back, but he’s well aware that it’s going to be worth it.

“On your knees, solider.”

Without a word you push off the desk, sliding down the sturdy wood of the desk and to your knees, right at his feet. The lack of resilience is intoxicating, wrapping around his lungs and squeezing the air out of them. Without waiting, your hands are running up his thighs but before they can get to his zipper, he snatches them into a tight grip to press against your head.

“I don’t think so. No hands.”

The stare he fixes you is stern enough to keep you in place as he unzips his pants, just slightly tugging them down. His fingers slip further to his pocket, pulling out a cigar to hang in his teeth and an accompanying matchbox. A lifetime of smoking has the move perfected, and he doesn’t even need to watch, keeping his eyes locked with yours as he strikes the match and burns the cigar butt with a slow, deep inhale. Anticipation is doing his job teasing you, and he can see your thighs squeezing together; good, wearing yourself out for him. When you squirm on your heels, he exhales a plume of smoke, dropping the matchbox on the desk.

“See? Wasn’t that hard t’listen.”

The conflict in your mind is apparent; take the degradation or not. Heat rushes through his stomach at the way your jaw clenches, biting back whatever retort was on your tongue, and he thinks the attitude adjustment deserves a reward.

“Good pet, keepin’ your mouth closed. Maybe you won’t be too hard to teach.”

Price takes another long drag, taking the cigar between his fingers.

“Hands behind your back. Get started.”

“Of course, sir.”

He tries to open his mouth to reprimand your snark but instead a growl tears through him as your cheek rubs over the damp material at his tip, leaving it sticky and glistening when you pull back.

You don’t let him catch a breath, delicately grasping the band of his underwear between your teeth to begin tugging them down. The grip on his cigar is precarious and another drag steadies it as you pull down far enough for his cock to fall free, already tacky and wet from being pressed against him.

“Everythin’ out love, not just my cock.”

The small noises of surprise are muffled as he pushes your face into the shaft, an upwards roll of his hips pressing his balls against your lips. It’s almost pornographic as each thrust of his hips drags his aching cock across your face, leaving your skin shimmering with trails of pre-cum. Your cheeks are soft and pliant as they smush against his cock, and the hot rush of air and wetness of your spit each time his cock glides over your lips is almost unbearable. A needy moan vibrates against his cock, the sensation eliciting one of his own. The idea of cumming from just rubbing against someone’s face sounds ludicrous, but as his muscles tense, he needs to pull away before he splatters across your pretty face and gasping lips. Your hair falls from his grasp as he clutches your jaw, gripping it with enough force to hurt, tilting your gaze towards his.

Teeth graze against his skin as you nip the band again and he hisses, fixing you with a stern glare. But the way his dick jumps at the pain betrays him, so he settles for another long drag, watching as you finally accomplish your goal. You let go of the band with a snap, the tight pressure of the elastic under his sack making his shaft throb; on purpose, he suspects.

You sit back on your heels and take it in, almost admiring your work. He loves the way you look at him, studying his twitching and weeping cock, but Price wants to be in control of this moment. A hand tangles in your hair to attain a dominant grip, tugging your head to stay still exactly where he wants it.

“Gonna tell me what my Lieutenants did?“

“They were…”

Satisfaction bubbles in his stomach as you look up at him, sticky, flushed and messy while you lick your lips. He wants you to give in, admit defeat and let him reward you.

“They gave me a close combat lesson and then cleaned down the room, sir.”

It’s so quiet he can hear each breath you take as the satisfaction is replaced with a fiery determination. He doesn’t react or respond, just watches as your eyes dart around his face, trying to gauge some level of reaction. Nothing gives as he rights himself up, dropping your jaw from his grip. The spark of his cigar is dying out, and the last embers glow as he takes a final puff.

“Y’had more than a fair chance, soldier.”

The cigar crunches as he fully extinguishes the expired butt on the desk, letting it fall with a thunk. With both hands free, he tenderly gathers your hair into a bunch, before yanking it back and pinning it against the desks’ surface. The back of your head hits the edge, and he’s satisfied at the yelp and indignant frown it draws from you.

“I’m gonna fuck this mouth ‘til you remember how to be a good soldier. At least work out the fuckin’ stress y’cause me.”

Keeping one hand to trap you against the desk, he wraps the other around his shaft. Spit gathers on his tongue before he opens his mouth, letting it fall down and splat onto his member, making a sticky noise as he rubs it along the length.

“Open up.”

You part your lips, hanging out your tongue and he can’t stop his eyes from rolling back when his cock finally enters your mouth. He knows this isn’t going to last long; Price is a man of drive over energy, stamina ebbing and flowing that’s compensated for by his meticulous touches, manipulative and focused on drawing out every pleasurable sensation he can create whether it’s with his cock or another tool. But in your office, after hours and pressed up against a desk isn’t the right place to bring you apart underneath him, and he has to settle with leaving you a taste only he can satiate.

The way you can’t do anything but let the captain work his hips is erotic, brows crinkled in desperation, eyes wet and pleading, helpless to do anything but speed up the process. It's a miracle he remembers how to speak as shallow jerks massage pre-cum across your tastebuds. In the same moment, he can feel your tongue press against him and his hips stutter.

“Bloody hell, darlin’. Use that fuckin’ tongue.”

Price thrusts further into your mouth, working his way in. You try to swallow around him, spit dribbling from your lips as you do your best to manage the intrusion, and he grunts at the suction it causes.

“Needy little love, eh?”

Another moan vibrates his cock stronger than before, and an animalistic growl is the last thing you hear before he forces the full length in. The way your throat tightens as you gag has his knees weak, and when his balls are flush with your chin, he takes a moment to regain his breath. A slick noise catches his attention, and he realises a hand is between your thighs, slipped under your panties and working away. He’s too close to draw the punishment out any longer, ignoring your absence of permission, and the fact that you’re getting off to being face-fucked is enough to reinvigorate the man.

“Can’t lie for shit, hm? Your body can’t either, just fuckin’ look at that. Playin’ with yourself as I use you.”

Every noise you make courses through him like electricity, and the degradation has you humming and whimpering. Picking up the pace again, lewd, watery plaps fill the air as he fucks your throat. Fluids trickle down his balls, droplets splashing onto your clothed chest with each slap against your chin. The deeper thrusts keep you gagging, stimulating tears that fall down your face, running the military-permitted mascara in black streaks as your eyes squeeze closed. The way you’re falling to pieces underneath him is exhilarating, better than any wet dream or weak fantasy he’s been entertaining himself with. His thrusts grow more erratic, both hands gripping the edge of the table.

“Look at me. Fucking – Look at me.”

Tears drip down your cheeks, nose buried against his pelvis as he feels your throat convulse around him. You blink rapidly up at him, trying to clear your eyes to meet his.

“Watch me while I fill your fuckin’ throat.”

When the words leave his lips, he can see your hand working faster and he feels heat rushing to his loins, thrilled at the idea of coming with you. He picks up the pace, each rough movement driving your head against the wood, and a faint voice in the back of his mind notes to grab Panadol after. The peak of his climax rapidly builds as praise falls from him between pants, telling you how "fuckin’ good" you look taking every bit of his cock.

As he throws his head back, a hand wrapping in your hair and driving his cock the deepest it can go, he prays the walls are thick enough to muffle the depraved grunts and groans he makes while emptying his balls. He feels your body spasm as your own orgasm rushes through you, the high-pitched vocalisations ringing around him as your hips gyrate into your palm and the other clutches at his pant leg. The adrenaline is rushing through him, feeling lightheaded but finally satiated. A hand unclenches from the desk and the other releases your hair, massaging your scalp almost apologetically. When he feels himself soften, he resigns to slowly pulling out, wishing he didn’t have to break the intimate connection. The cum you can’t swallow spills, leaking out and slowly seeping down your neck, onto your chest and shirt.

You look beautiful, face covered in liquids, dishevelled, and still recuperating from your orgasm. Affection overwhelms him and he crouches down, hooking his arms under yours to pull you up from your kneeling position, and sitting onto the desk. A small noise of discomfort makes him feel guilty and Price pushes between your thighs, tentatively pulling you closer into him as a hand rests against your back. The other covers your knee, his thumb rubbing soothing circles into the pressure marks. He feels relieved when you melt into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your head to his chest. The room is peaceful, heavy with the scent of sweat and sex, and he rests his chin against the top of your head. Although logic returns to him and rationality begins compiling the consequences of his disobedience, he can’t find himself to care, breathing in that same shampoo smell. He hopes next time – will there be a next time? – he can shower with you, surrounded by your scent. As he loses himself to thoughts of possibilities, a small voice breaks him away.

“It was only a decoy pistol, sir.”

It takes a moment to comprehend what you mean, but the realisation snatches a snort from him.

“... And two SA80s.”

Suddenly, the situation is a little less funny, but he settles on the idea it could have been worse.

“… They ripped a mat open and Ghost had a concussion.”

Of course. He closes his eyes, mentally cursing the two idiots and the additional work they’ve added to his already bursting schedule. But he feels your shoulders shake with laughter, and he can’t keep a smile from his own face. While he’d never tell the two men, they could’ve burnt down the barracks and Price wouldn’t care; as long as it led to right here, with you in his arms.

[done-with-the-shit]

->Relationship Headcanons<-

Chuuya x Reader

This is the first time I write headcanons so it may not be very good.. Also English is not my first language, please keep that in mind while reading! Ty and enjoy♡

Anime: Bungou Stray Dogs

Characters: Chuuya Nakahara

Note: GN!Reader

///SFW///

I imagine that after an eternity of denying his feelings, he angrily confessed to you without even realising he did😃

Like you'd be minding your own business and he just randomly comes to you screaming in your face about how he hates the fact that he loves you or something...

After that he will most likely lock himself in his office and regret his life decisions😕

But you will go to him and also confess your undying obsession love for him so it's all fine!

Anyways as for when you two start actually dating he would be such a lovely boyfriend♡

Very romantic for sure~

Like definitely buys you flowers 'cause why not?

He'd also spoil the hell out of you.

He works for the mafia after all so money isn't a problem for him😉

If you are taller than him please don't tease him!! (my man's only 5'3🤭)

After all he is still growing!

Lots of PDA.. that's all I'm gonna say

He enjoys taking you out to fancy dinners, but he also loves spending nights in, just watching TV and maybe drinking some wine with you~

You are the only person who can wear his hat and coat^-^

He secretly likes to see you in his clothing but you didn't hear that from me~

Chuuya is very good at cooking😌 so if you can't cook he will do it for you... he may even teach you if you want!

He also loves all the affection you give him!!

Even if you just hug or kiss him he will be melting in your hands literally

Being his usual self fucking tsundere he won't admit that he likes cuddling with you, but don't be fooled, he very much enjoys being spooned and loved by you!

Chuuya needs to be the little spoon! My boy deserves all the love you can give him!! (Just don't tell Dazai 'cause he won't stop bothering our chibi about it😔)

He's also secretly scared of hurting you with his ability, so he's super careful around you.

All in all he is such a softy with us🥺

Anyways.. let's get to the interesting stuff~~

///NSFW///

Let's be honest this boy is a fucking switch😤

So I imagine him as a soft dom and a braty sub (don't ask why though👀)

And he is definitely open to trying all your kinks you nasty whore😒

But who am I kidding I have no right to judge..

Anyways.. I bet he has a knife and bandage kink

I mean just imagine yourself all tied up with this small man on top of you!!

Or the other way around😏

He enjoy biting you.. (that's all I'm gonna say)

I personally think that he only dom's in two occasions..

First being if you had a rough day and he just wants to make you feel better~

Another reason for you to let him dom is when he is angry at something or someone.. yk to help him relieve stress (if he doesn't ask you to fuck him instead😉)

All the other times?

Oh this boy will be begging you to fuck him while explaining how he is still the one in control denial

I mean as a said earlier he is pretty much a tsundere so..

Because of that you'd have to be someone he really, really trusts for him to let you take control

But once you get his trust? Oh boy you are in for it I'm telling you😩😩

He is going to be such a brat and would love to push you to your limit~

But don't worry he is actually pretty easy to handle

Just pin him beneath you and he will shut up..

And if he doesn't just tug at his choker! What else would he wear it for!?

Oh boy do not forget that beautiful hair of his😍

It's just made for pulling~

PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK PRAISE KINK

Do I really need to say more??

Loud? Yes..

His moans are so incredibly loud like he doesn't hold back😩😫

Edging and overstimulation?

He loves hates it.. And will not tell you otherwise

But his favourite part is the aftercare~

Baby is so tired he needs your help!!

Take him to the bathroom and give him a nice warm bath (he deserves it for being such a good boy for you😖)

Loves it when you give him a lots of kisses and cuddles afterwards~

>>MORE OF MY WORKS<<

[sakuraryomen01]

I'm horny so I'm writing about my thoughts.

warnings: nsfw, fem reader, mdni, blowjobs, sex in different positions, some size kinks, nipple play, possible breeding, man handling if u squint

words: idk I didn't count but it's a lot

ft:: yuji, kuroo, bokuto, and sukuna

Yuji Itadori🐅

He's been brain rotting for a while and it's annoying how much I think about him, but I love him too much to make him move out.

I love thinking about how heavy his cock must get when he's hard, and ready to come. It'd probably tilt with a thick vein pulsing along the underside so it makes him × 10 more sensitive when you suck him off. He's probably not super long like kuroo would be, but he'd definitely be on the thicker side.

I wouldn't be surprised if he turned out to be ashamed about being average, but I'm drooling over that stretch baby boy dw 🤤💞

He'd definitely taste.. interesting. I don't see him tasting super sweet like gojo or something, I see him tasting like a savory meal if that makes any sense?

Something like a meal you'd never want to forget or finish early. If yk what I mean, ty. 🙏

He'd definitely try and be gentle during sex and hand/blowjobs. Yuji knows he's a strong boy so being careful of his grip and thrusts is something he has anxiety about often. When he's close though, he'll be in cloud nine and forget what he's doing.

Bucking his hips while his thighs tense and practically vibrate as his climax nears. Praising him is such a great way to tell him "I'm okay" even though his cum's covering your face and lips.

Different positions he loves: doggy, reverse cowgirl, and missionary

While Yuji does think that your sex life needs lots of spice, he's really willing to do whatever it takes to make you cum! He loves the simple things, but watching you masturbate in front of him gets him drooling and hard.

Kuroo Tetsuro🐈‍⬛

He definitely makes me want to scream daddy at the top of my lungs but then want to cuddle him and kiss his forehead for hours while reading my favorite book or watching a horror movie.

Daddy? I'm sorry. Daddy? I'm sorry.

I get the vibe from kuroo that he lives to eat pussy to relieve his own stress.

Work getting too much? Eat pussy. Staying up too late fucking? Eat pussy + the cream pie. He'd like a girl that'd know how to edge and tease him, even though he'd flat out deny this.

He'd feel hot and heavy over constant teasing remarks or suggestive compliments. Offering a massage during a game would also make him want to kiss you and cuddle you for hours.

Kuroo loves spice.

He'll bring in some kind of toy like a vibrator or ask to fuck on the couch instead of in the bedroom.

(I wouldn't doubt he'd try role-playing.)

Kuroo's just above average with a slimmer cock, but it's big no matter how you put it. He's probably not a sweets guy, but I'd end up making him something like strawberries to make him taste like candy.

Kuroo himself probably tastes like bokuto and yuji since all of them are incredibly athletic and active in their daily lives. He's not ashamed of himself either and probably grooms regularly to keep it "presentable."

Positions and places he adores: the hook, standing doggy, anything that involves a counter

He'd probably try doing role plays that involve his job or his past. Like, volleyball coach fucks captain or something. He's a wildcard tho so I can't say for sure 😃

Bokuto Kōtaru🦉

A owl man that's energy is so contagious and sexy I'd like to eat his ass like a fucking meal— he's the obsession, he's the moment, he's a himbo sweetheart.

Bokuto doesn't hate his ass or his massive man tits, but he doesn't like that they steal the show. We all know that his ass was stolen from a bakery and that those thighs are illegal.

This might, or might not, be an unpopular opinion BUT I would eat his ass any day. I love this man's body sm it's like a plus with his sweet and energetic personality.

He'd be so touchie when it comes to sex, and he probably has a cute nickname for it tbh. He knows that his thighs are a weakness so he'll use them to slick up your pussy and panties while he's busy playing with ur tits and neck.

"feel good baby? Like my tongue?"

Verbal, loud, fast, and rough.

Bokutos strength shines through when the bed's creaking, your ass is jiggling beautifully on his pelvis, and your screams are nothing short of gorgeous. Bokuto loves to use your tits and hips as his personal love handles.

Massive calloused palms that are rough to the touch but feel amazing rubbing and flicking at your nipples.

His moans r loud but so hot. He'll also chuckle in a low tone if you cum more than once around his cock in the first round. (I would, I have.)

Positions? Yes: doggy, missionary, against the wall, in his lap, mating press

His cock is a proud 8 with a thickness that makes u think he stole a muffin or two to feed it. Damn does that stretch hurt but it sounds really good in your pussy!!!

Sukuna Ryomen😈

A devil in life, a devil in the sheets. He'll break your back and break you in one sitting but torture you with his many tongues. It's funny to think about Sukuna being disappointed when he first reincarnates since he doesn't have those swoll coc—

Sukuna is so wild during sex it's like a ride of its own. I'm basing this more on how he is in the manga and anime rather than a romantic version. So, let's begin shall we? ^^

Lord Ryomen does love a little challenge even though it thoroughly annoys him. Having a woman that's fully submissive for him and only him but will get on his nerves regularly makes him want to make sure you know your place over and over.

What better way than to fuck you with his monster cock(s)?

The Vessel version of him is definitely rougher than the true form. True form is bigger, but has a little patience in my opinion. Vessel version has none and since he only has one, he'll make another just to punish you.

My own personal favorite part of Sukuna isn't the tattoos, surprise surprise! I love them fucking biceps and that face. Both true form and vessel.

Tracing my fingers along them as a past time yes, but I'll be holding onto those arms for dear life while burning his face into my brain. Seeing how his eyes will shine while forcing my pussy to accommodate him.

Positions or mild suggestions?: Anything that allows him to fuck your pussy(and asshole let's be honest), does enjoy a show so maybe cowgirl, cuddle fucking when he's lazy or tired

His cock(s) have a powerful taste seeing as he's a cursed spirit rather than a normal human. I doubt he'll taste any better than what it normally tastes like, but I'd still suck it like my life depends on it 😭

Sukuna doesn't have an official size in his vessel for seeing as he can just change it to what he wants. But in true form, he is definitely over 8 inches and thicker than anything.

Take a Coke 2 liter bottle and imagine Sukuna's cocks. That's probably about accurate.

Loved writing for my favorite boys, and I honestly loved imagining them. I'm tagging some ppl I think would enjoy this, but if you want to be removed for any reason pls lmk!!❤️

Tags: @yuujispinkhair, @xxnghtclls

[coffeeshades]

credits to the gif maker!

LOVE IS COMPLICATED - PART IV

—know it’s for the better

summary: the trials and tribulations of falling in love or two idiots who can't get their shit together.

pairing: pedro pascal x actress/singer!reader.

word count: 7.2k

warnings: 18+ (minors dni). mentions of sex. angst (heavy on this i'm sorry in advance) cussing, age gap, mentions of drugs and alcohol. no use of y/n, if i missed something please let me know!

a/n: hi everyone! yes yes i know i disappeared for like 5 months but let's pretend i didn't. i've seen all of your messages and comments and i'm overwhelmed with all the love you've shown to the previous parts. thank you so much to everyone who likes, reblogs and leaves a kind message, i see you and love u. here's a new lil chapter, i hope you enjoy it. happy reading!!

masterlist with next parts!

February 28th, 2019 

Cort Theater, NY

The day was here. The day he had been eagerly waiting on for months. The anticipation had been building up, and now he was finally going to perform in front of a live audience for the first time in what felt like an eternity. The months of rehearsals and hard work had all led up to this moment, and he was ready to give it his all.

He was starring in the new Broadway production of “King Lear" as Edmond, one of the play's most complex and intriguing characters. The role had challenged him in ways he had never experienced before, pushing him to delve deep into the character's motivations and emotions. As he stepped onto the stage, the bright lights shining down on him, he felt a surge of adrenaline and a sense of purpose. 

And just like that, three hours and twenty-five minutes later, the final curtain fell on the play. The audience erupted into thunderous applause, their standing ovation a testament to their incredible performance. Exhausted but exhilarated, he knew he had given everything he had to the role and left it all on the stage. 

His mind raced with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The rush of adrenaline slowly subsided, and as much as he wanted to hear what everyone thought of his performance, there was only one person whose opinion mattered to him right now: yours. 

The last time he saw you was on your last day in Chile, almost two months ago. He vividly remembered the bittersweet farewell outside his family's house—you getting into the car and him closing the door. A door that seemed to separate their worlds. Since then, they had kept in touch through messages and occasional video calls, but it wasn't the same. Of course it wasn't. It will never be. 

The distance between them had only fueled his longing, making him yearn for your presence even more. Constantly trying to derail his one-track mind. 

He knows you're here. He had invited his siblings and closest friends. However, he was unsure of your attendance until an hour before the show, when he received a text from Oscar:

"She's coming with me. Stop pacing and good luck." 

He hadn't really discussed what happened back in Chile with Oscar or anyone, for that matter, but he could tell everyone knew something was off about how the two of you interacted. So when he got the message from Oscar, instead of freaking out about him potentially finding out about you two, he felt relieved. 

It gave him comfort to know that Oscar knew him so well that he was aware of the fact that you were the cause of his two-hour pacing in his dressing room. It was also fucking stupid and laughable. 

The energy backstage was electric as he walked through the bustling crowd of crew members and performers. He entered his dressing room, grabbing his phone and immediately seeing all the texts from friends and his siblings. He opened one from Javiera: "Felicidades, hermanito! Killed it. See you at The Terrace." 

They had planned on getting together afterwards to celebrate. He replied with a grateful smile, saying he'd be there in a few and to get there without him. He quickly changed into a more casual outfit: dark jeans and a comfortable white t-shirt. Wanting to unwind after the intense performance, he made his way to the restaurant. It was only a few blocks away from the theater, so he decided to enjoy the pleasant evening weather and take a leisurely stroll. 

Once he got there and stepped out of the elevator, Pedro watched you from across the room. A delicate hand rested on Oscar's shoulder as you chatted and laughed together. He felt a bubble of pride in himself swell; it warmed him to know that you were enjoying yourself and having a good time. 

He felt like an intruder in your intimate moment, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. At least I don't have to miss her anymore because she's right there, he thought. 

Pedro made his way across the room, trying to appear nonchalant as he approached the table. 

"There he is! the man of the hour," Oscar said, a wide smile spreading across his face. 

You turned. Eyes meeting, and it was like a car crash. A collision of emotions and memories flooding back all at once. The air between you crackled with unresolved tension, and Pedro's heart raced as he struggled to find the right words to say.  

"You came," he said, his voice stern. Not reflecting at all the turmoil inside him. "Thank you." 

"Well, you called," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant as well. Deep down, though, your heart was pounding just as fast as Pedro's. 

Everyone seemed to ignore the palpable tension in the room and how he was losing his mind over these unclear conversations between your glances, carrying on with their congratulatory words to Pedro as if nothing had happened. But for Pedro and you, time stood still. 

People settled into an easy conversation, enjoying each other's company as the night went on. As the night went on, Pedro and you exchanged occasional glances, silently acknowledging the shared secret that lingered. He wanted to scream it at the top of his lungs: We slept together! We slept together, and I loved it! He wanted every single person in New York to hear it. To feel the exhilaration and passion that consumed him. 

However, to say it was to make it real, and Pedro wasn't quite ready to face the consequences of that reality just yet. He knew his place in her life. He knew it was better this way. However, the ever-present question of 'Is it better to have something and lose it than never have it at all?' haunted his mind. 

The laughter and chatter around you provided a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions swirling within both of you. After a couple drinks, the atmosphere became more relaxed, and Pedro found himself engaging in lighthearted conversations with the people around him. 

"Ah, man. I need a cigarrette," he said to Oscar, reaching into his pocket for his pack of cigarettes. 

"Go, go. I'll keep everyone entertained," Oscar replied with a smile, gesturing towards the lively crowd. Pedro nodded gratefully and stepped outside, the cool night air providing a brief respite from the chaos of his thoughts. As he lit his cigarette and took a long drag, he couldn't help but wonder if the temporary escape it offered was worth the potential consequences. 

"I thought you quit," you remarked, slowly making your way to him, eyebrows raised in mild surprise. Pedro turned and exhaled a cloud of smoke, a wistful expression crossing his face. "I did, but you know me. I have a hard time letting go of old habits," he admitted, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

"Care to share?" you asked, gesturing towards the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Pedro hesitated for a moment. 

"No." 

"No?" you repeated, raising an eyebrow. 

"I don't want to be the reason you get lung cancer." 

You chuckled. "Ok, so you can do it, but I can't. Got it." 

"I'm old; there's no use," he said with a shrug. "However, you have a whole life ahead of you."

"You make it sound like you're on a deathbed," you teased, taking a playful jab at Pedro's dramatic statement. He smirked and took a long drag from his cigarette before responding. "Maybe I am, in a way. But hey, we all gotta go someday, right?" 

"That's...dark," you sighed. "mind if we changed the subject?" 

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" Pedro asked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. "Anything to distract me from my impending doom," he added with a smirk. 

A laugh escaped your lips as you thought of a lighter topic. "How about we discuss your play?"  Pedro's eyes lit up at the suggestion, momentarily forgetting about his earlier morbid thoughts. 

"How are you feeling about your performance?"

Pedro looked at you for a little too long before finally responding, "It's funny I'm thinking about death because I've never felt more alive than on that stage." 

"I could tell. I thought you were great, P." 

He shook his head modestly. "Thanks, but I still feel like there's room for improvement. I want to push myself even further in the next shows." 

"I get that." 

Pedro watched you stare at the ground. His thoughts began to conspire against him, and as he was about to speak, you also looked up and opened your mouth at the same time. Words rushed out in unison.

You both paused, realizing you had interrupted each other. Pedro chuckled tentatively and motioned for you to go ahead. "Sorry, you first," he said with a polite smile. 

You bit your lip, seemingly trying to gather your thoughts. "It's nothing. I just wanted to tell you I'll be in Europe for awhile. I got the Nolan movie."  

"Woah, another one?" 

"Yup. The role isn't as big as in interstellar, but I love working with him so much I couldn't pass up the opportunity."  Pedro nodded, a mix of excitement and disappointment flickering across his face. "That's amazing; congratulations. I'm sure you'll do great, as always," he said sincerely. "I'll definitely miss having you around, though." 

"Well, it's not like it'll be much different than now," you replied. "I haven't seen you since...since you know,"  your expression turned somber, cheeks flushed. 

You were right. He was so busy with the play and his new role in the second installment of Wonder Woman that he barely had any time. He even had to cut back on his time on set for The Mandalorian reshoots this month and a few scenes for a second season that haven't even been announced. 

"Yeah, I know." 

"Should we talk about it?" 

"I mean, there's nothing to talk about, really," Pedro said with a shrug, not daring to look you in the eye. "We slept together, and we both agreed that was it. No need to complicate things further." he tried to maintain a casual tone, but his voice wavered slightly. 

Pedro wanted to scream. The nicotine clouding his lungs was the only thing keeping him from losing control. It seemed like all he was left with was a painful reminder of what could have been. He looked at you as he took another puff of smoke. Your eyes clearly searching for a trace of emotion in his face, but finding none. 

A droplet of rain landed on Pedro's cheek as he inhaled deeply, feeling the coolness against his skin. It was as if the universe was reflecting his inner turmoil, adding to the weight of his unspoken words. He watched as you looked up at the darkening sky, the raindrops falling steadily on your hair. 

The sound of thunder echoed in the distance, mirroring the storm brewing within him. He dropped the cigarrette from his hand, its ember extinguished by the rain.

"Isn't that the point of love, though?" you finally responded, your voice raspy and drunk with bitterness and resignation. "To complicate things, to make us question everything, to drive us to the brink of madness. Maybe it's not meant to be simple, Pedro." 

His body tensed up, and your words clearly struck a nerve. The weight of your statement hung heavy in the air, leaving an uncomfortable silence between you both. It was no secret that his perspective on love had been tainted by past experiences, leaving him guarded and unwilling to let go of his pain. 

"You're right. Which is why I would rather stay away from it. I've seen firsthand the havoc it can wreak on people's lives," Pedro admitted, his voice laced with a hint of frustration. He knows he's hurting you; he can see it by the way your eyes glisten with unshed tears. 

"So that's it, then?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Is this how it is always going to be?"

But he can't risk it. "I thought we were on the same page with this." 

He sees how your jaw tightens at his statement. He knows he's hurting you. He's twisting the knife even deeper. He can't seem to stop just because he believes it's for the better. 

Please know it's for the better. 

"Yeah, I guess it's better this way," you spat back, your voice filled with anger. Of course, you could tell exactly how he was feeling. 

"Guys! What the fuck are you doing outside? It's fucking pouring!" A friend shouts from the doorway. "Get inside!" 

You both stood there staring at each other, momentarily forgetting the rain pouring down around you. 

“Yeah. What the fuck are we doing?" you say, not even trying to mask the anger in your voice. 

He wants to reach out and kiss you. Kiss you so hard that his lips would bruise. Kiss you so hard that your pain will fade away. But that action would go against everything he had just said. 

So he just watches you turn around and leave. 

What the fuck is he doing?

3 months later

After weeks of shooting in the United Kingdom and the Amalfi Coast, you and the crew finally had a couple of days off. Aaron, John, and Rob had the brilliant idea to take a quick trip to Monaco. 

“It’s a Grand Prix weekend,” Aaron said excitedly. “Maybe if we make a few calls, we could still snag some passes.” 

“Doesn’t that start this week?” Rob inquired, taking a sip of his drink. Ever since your arrival in Italy, the four of you finally got the chance to eat dinner together at a nice restaurant. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Aaron waved his hands in the air, “but if we leave tomorrow, there’s plenty of time to get there and enjoy ourselves.” 

You were so focused on your meal that you missed the sound of your name coming from Aaron’s mouth. “Hellooo?” he continued, and you looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you friends with Lewis Hamilton?” 

“Yeah. Well, I mean, we see each other sometimes at events and stuff. He’s really nice,” you tell him, still feeling a bit distracted. 

“Could you maybe give him a call and get us those passes?” he asks, pouting like a puppy. John laughs at him, hitting him lightly on the arm. 

“Sure, I can try,” you reply, feeling a bit hesitant. You rarely ask for special favors and don't want to come across as entitled, even more so when you haven't spoken to Lewis in so long. 

“Yes!” Aaron celebrates by raising his fists. "Um, one more thing,"

“Mate, you’re pushing it now,” Rob remarks with a playful tone. You can tell he's enjoying the banter between you and Aaron. 

“Go on,” you gesture at him to continue, a smile on your face. 

“Could we also use your PP?” 

“Use her what now?” John exclaims. Laughter erupts from Rob's mouth, making you and John join in. 

“Her private plane, mate!” Aaron says, embarrassed. 

“Yes, Aaron,” you get out, still laughing. “I’ll let you use my PP.”

"Thank you!" 

•••

The flight to Monaco was smooth and quick. You spent most of it trying to focus on a script for a project after this one while the boys all slept. After your dinner last night, you made two calls: one to Lewis to ask about the passes and one to your publicist to let her know about your last-minute adventure. 

Lewis was very nice as usual and said that, of course, he can get you the passes, while your agent said attending an F1 weekend would be good publicity and good fun. A win-win situation, she called it. She also said that since you were going to attend the race, you might as well attend all the events that come with it, which meant she had to fly in to assist you.

By the time the plane finally landed and you made it to the hotel, you were worn out. You spent the rest of the afternoon and night sleeping, without a care in the world. The next day, soft knocks on the door woke you up. 

"It's me,"  Taylor's voice called out. 

You groggily got out of bed and opened the door to find her standing there with her laptop, a cup of coffee, and a huge smile on her face. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." 

Although you hadn't passed a mirror on your way to answer the door, you had the feeling that you didn't look visually appealing at the moment. Your body ached, like you wrestled with a wild animal all night and lost. 

"Did you just get here?" you ask her, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. She smiles and shakes her head. "I got here late last night, but you weren't answering the phone, so I called Renata instead, and she said you were sleeping. And like the great person I am, I let you rest." Renata is your PA/publicist, a great friend, and one of the two constants in your life, along with Taylor. 

"Wow, so kind of you," you say sarcastically, but can't help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your mouth. "Come in." 

As Taylor enters, you shut the door behind her. She scans the space in fascination. There are floor-to-ceiling windows on the wall that run the length of the room and the wall to your left, which is behind the dining room table. A broad view of the harbor can be seen between the sheer, white, fluttering lengths of the floating curtains. 

"Gorgeous suite," she says, sitting on the plush sofa across the room. 

"Ren always chooses the best rooms, so yes," you tell her, sinking once again into your warm bed. 

"You're still tired? You've slept for like 16 hours already," she chuckles, pouring herself a glass of water from the crystal pitcher on the side table. "I know, but I guess the jetlag is hitting me harder than I thought," you reply with a yawn, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of the fragrant flowers on the nightstand. 

"You didn't come to Monaco to sleep, did you?" Taylor chuckles, sitting down on the edge of the bed. 

"Yes?" 

"No! We have a full itinerary planned for today, starting with breakfast at Café de Paris across the street with the boys. And then we're off to the Hotel de Paris for a F1 brunch event. There will be lots of food, drinks, and hot guys. Specifically, hot F1 drivers," you groan-laugh inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out of bed so early for the sake of hot guys. "You know that's the last thing on my mind, right?" 

"Well, not on mine!" she replies with a wink. "But seriously, it's not just about the eye candy. The event is also for a good cause, raising funds for a local charity. And it's also a great place to network and meet new people—you know the drill." You nod in agreement, feeling more motivated to attend, knowing that it's for a meaningful purpose. 

With a determined sigh, you sit up and swing your legs over the edge of the bed. "Okay, I'll shower."

"Let me call Renata and tell her to prep the car and get the glam team in here." 

"Thank you," you tell her, disappearing into the bathroom. 

•••

Two hours later, you find yourself entering the venue of a charity event with your very impatient and rather enthusiastic co-star and best friend, Aaron. The venue is buzzing with excitement as you take in the elegant decorations and the well-dressed attendees. Since it's Monaco in May, you're sporting a light blue strapless top and white linen pants that complement the warm weather and the sophisticated atmosphere of the event.

"I can't believe Rob and John sat this one out because they were 'too tired', Aaron remarks, shaking his head in disbelief. 

"Well, they don't have the energy of a 5-year-old, unlike you," you tease, playfully nudging him. "But hey, more champagne for us," you add with a mischievous grin as you grab two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter. "Cheers."

The bubbles tickle your nose as you take a sip, savoring the crisp and refreshing taste. 

Camera flashes illuminate the room as people mingle and engage in lively conversations. You're stopped every 5 minutes by someone wanting to take a picture with you. You oblige every time with a smile, posing for each photo and exchanging pleasantries. After all, that's why you're here for. 

Everything was going smoothly until someone bumped into you, causing you to spill champagne all over your clothes. The cold liquid seeps mostly through the fabric of your top, leaving a sticky sensation against your skin. 

"Oh, my bad," you hear a thick Australian accent apologize. You turn to see a rather tall, tan-skinned, handsome man with a sheepish grin on his face. Did you say how handsome he was? And what the fuck was he smiling for? 

Once he realizes who you are, his eyes widen in surprise and anguish. People start noticing the commotion and turn their attention towards the two of you. The man quickly grabs your arm and pulls you away from the crowd, his grip firm but gentle. 

"Hey! Where are you taking me!" you protest, trying to free your arm from his grasp. His grip tightens slightly, but he maintains a calm demeanor as he leads you towards a quieter corner. As you reach a bathroom, he finally releases his hold on you and takes a step back, his expression filled with concern. 

"Relax, I'm not kidnapping you." 

The chaos around you fades into the background as he shuts the door and starts grabbing paper towels. "Shit, here," he says, handing you one. "Sorry for ruining your clothes."  

You start wiping the spilled drink off your clothes, a little annoyed at the inconvenience. You can feel his gaze burning into you without looking. 

"Do ya want me to give you mine?" he offers, gesturing towards his own shirt. "It might be a bit big on you, but at least it's dry." he pauses, waiting for your response. 

You stare at him. "And what? you're going to walk around shirtless?" you ask, raising an eyebrow. He chuckles. "Yeah, I have a banging body, so I'll just be doing everybody here a favor here, really," he replies with a smirk. 

You roll your eyes at his cocky remark. "I think I'll manage without your shirt, thanks," you say sarcastically. "But I appreciate the offer." 

He laughs as he observes you. "Okay, then let me find another way to make it up to you." 

"There's no need."

"Do you have plans tonight?"

"I'm fine."

"Does 7 p.m. sound good to you?"

"Listen—"

"Where are you staying?" 

"I don't even know you."

"It's Daniel."

"Okay, Daniel. I don't know you, so no."

"But you could," he says with a playful glint in his eyes. "And who knows, it could be the start of something new." 

"Are you quoting High School Musical to me?" 

"Hey, it's a classic. And it was right there." 

You chuckle, unable to resist his charm. Something lights up in his eyes. 

"Listen, I won't push you anymore. It's up to you. Can't blame me for trying, though." you raise an eyebrow, considering his words. 

"I'm going to go now," you tell him, pointing at the door. 

He nods understandingly. "See ya later."

•••

After about 30 more minutes of indulging everyone in conversation and enjoying the party, Lewis Hamilton finds you. "Hi sweetie, there you are," he greets you, ever so polite. "I heard chatter that you were here. I thought I wouldn't see you until tomorrow's practice sessions." 

"Oh yeah, but you know duty calls," you say with a smile as you lean in to hug him. "It's so nice to see you. Thanks again for the passes." 

"Oh, it's nothing. You would've gotten them without me, but I'm glad you called me instead. How have you been enjoying Monaco so far?" 

"Good, good—" you begin, but before you can finish your sentence, a burst of laughter you recognize from earlier erupts from across the room. "Actually, do you happen to know him?" you ask Lewis, gesturing with your head towards the source of laughter. Daniel is joyfully engaged in conversation with a group of people. Lewis follows your gaze and chuckles, "Ah, that's Daniel Ricciardo. He's a fellow Formula 1 driver and quite the character, to be honest. He's a cool dude." 

"Huh," is all you manage to say as you watch Daniel animatedly tell a story, his infectious laughter filling the room. 

"What are we looking at?" Renata and Aaron find you and join the conversation; their curiosity is piqued. 

"Nothing," you quickly respond. Renata immediately caught on to your evasive response and followed your gaze. "Oh, Daniel?" she exclaims, voice hushed and her eyes glinting with excitement. 

"Wait, you know who he is?"

"I did my homework on the plane. He drives for Renault, and he looks great doing it."

Lewis and Aaron chuckle at Renata's enthusiasm, sharing in her excitement. "I think Renata will be watching a few races from now on," Lewis remarks, causing everyone to laugh. Renata shrugs, a proud smile on her face. "Trust me, I will, but not for him. Have you heard of Charles Leclerc?" 

You're still staring at Daniel, dumbfounded. Wheels are turning in your mind. 

Aaron's voice interrupts your thoughts. "So...why are we still staring at him?" 

"I'm going on a date with him tonight." 

Your own declaration surprises you. 

"Wait, you are?" both of your friends say in unison, their eyes widening with curiosity. 

"Yes," you say, setting down your drink. "You guys ready to go now?" 

They nodded, not wanting to press further but clearly intrigued by this, and you said your goodbyes to Lewis, promising to see him on Friday at the track. As you made your way to the exit, you grabbed Daniel by the arm and pulled him aside. 

"Hotel Hermitage, 7 p.m., Room 303. Don't be late," you whispered, voice calm and steady. Daniel's mouth curled into a smile, but he maintained his composure and nodded, a feeling of excitement in his gaze. With a final pat on his shoulder, you rejoined your friends and headed out of the venue, eager for the evening ahead. 

•••

You don't know what the hell you were thinking when you said yes. You could feel your anxiety building as the time approached—face flushed, stomach twisting in knots. James and Liz, your hair and makeup team, paused, laying out brushes and curling wands. "Everything okay, love?" James asked. "You want us out?" 

"No, keep going. You're almost done, anyway. I'm just internally freaking out a little." 

"You're great and look beautiful," Liz replied. "There's nothing to worry about."

You give her a tight smile and try to believe her words, but the nagging doubts continue to linger in the back of your mind. As the final touches are applied, you take a deep breath and say your goodbyes to them. 

"Good luck and have fun!" James says as Liz winks at you and closes the door. You chuckle at their enthusiasm. You walk back into the bedroom and pick up the black cocktail dress hanging on the closet door. The soft fabric feels comforting against your fingertips as you slip it on. The dress hugs your curves perfectly, accentuating your best features. You grab your clutch and check yourself in the mirror one last time. 

A knock on the door startles you. "Coming!" 

Breathe, you remind yourself. 

"Wow," Daniel says with a warm smile. "You look absolutely stunning. Are you ready to go?"  

You're sure your face must look like a tomato as you thank Daniel for the compliment. 

"Yes, let's." 

As you reach the entrance of the hotel, Daniel hands the valet a ticket, and he opens the door of his car for you. "My lady," he says with a playful bow. You can't help but feel a rush of excitement as you step into the very flashy luxury car. For an F1 driver, you didn't expect anything less. The soft leather seats hug your body as you settle in, and the sleek interior design adds to the overall opulence of the vehicle. Daniel starts the engine, and the car glides smoothly onto the road. 

"Where are you taking me?" 

He looks at you with a mischevious grin plastered on his face. "My friend Max is throwing a yatch party tonight, and I thought it would be the perfect way to spend the night," he says, revving the engine slightly. "But I intend to dine and wine you before we head there." 

"Oh," you reply nonchalantly, "Nice."

"Still playing hard to get?"

You shrug and give him a grin. 

"That's alright. I enjoy a good challenge," he replies, his eyes sparkling. "But I have a feeling that by the end of the week, you won't be able to resist my charm." He winks at you. 

"You're quite confident, aren't you?" you say, raising an eyebrow. "But don't underestimate my ability to resist." You smirk back at him, ready to prove him wrong. 

The car pulls up to the entrance of the restaurant, and you both step out onto the bustling street. You make your way inside. "Oh, I've been here before," you say lowly, feeling a little satisfied that it is something you've experienced already, so it's harder for him to impress you. 

You couldn't have been more wrong, though. 

The hostess greets you with a warm smile and leads you to the main dining area. As you follow her, you can't help but notice it's....empty. Not a single table is occupied. The dimly lit room feels intimate and cozy, with soft music playing in the background and red roses adorning each table.  

The hostess gestures towards a table in the middle of the room. "The waiter will be with you shortly," she says before leaving you alone. 

You turn around, facing Daniel. "Did you rent out the entire restaurant for us?" you ask, slightly surprised. Daniel chuckles and shakes his head. "No, I just made a reservation for a quiet evening," he replies. 

"You're an awful liar."

"I just saw how hectic everything was for you this morning, with all the pictures and people clamoring for your attention. I wanted to give you a break from that and create a peaceful vibe for us to enjoy tonight," Daniel explains, his eyes filled with sincerity. 

You smile. "That's very thoughtful. Thank you."

"I have my moments." 

The night continues with the two of you enjoying the delicious food and engaging in fun and light conversation. The peaceful atmosphere allows you both to relax and truly connect with each other. 

Just what you needed but didn't realize until now. 

"You're literally always smiling," you tell him. In the very short time you've known Daniel, there's something constant about him: his distinctive smile. Daniel chuckles and replies, "It's amazing what surgery can do. Formula 1 pays really well, and I was able to put a lot of that money into permanent smile surgery."

You burst out laughing. "Well, they did a great job," you say, still chuckling.

•••

You glided arm in arm onto the yatch, dry martinis in hand and a revolving stream of waitstaff to refill your drinks as soon as they emptied. You feel more relaxed and comfortable now. Maybe it was the three glasses of wine you had at dinner and the drink that's currently in your hand, or maybe it was the contagious laughter and carefree attitude of your date. 

Cote d'Azur was a smooth wash of precious stones at this time of year. The ocean's deep, smoky blue stretched out like a shiny carpet. Loud music blasted from the speakers, and the upper deck was transformed into a vibrant dance floor with people spinning and swaying to the beat. 

You wished you could rest your head on Daniel's shoulder without looking like you were already drunk. 

He excitedly introduced you to his friends, who instantly made you feel like part of their tight-knit circle. As the night progressed, you found yourself effortlessly blending in. 

"So how did this insufferable clown manage to take you out on a date?" Max asked, his voice loud over the booming music. 

You shared a brief glance with Daniel. "He spilled champagne all over me."

"And then she couldn't help but fall for my charming personality and good looks," Daniel interjected with a playful grin. 

"Yes, that's exactly what happened." 

Daniel puts a hand on your lower back, and you mindlessly lean into his touch. "You wanna go outside for a bit?" 

The need for some fresh air and a break from the crowded room causes you to hum in agreement. You leaned over and observed the white waves as they cut through the water as you came across a section of railing near the stern of the yatch. 

The sound of the waves crashing against the yacht provided a soothing soundtrack to your conversation. As you leaned against the railing, Daniel's playful banter continued. 

"Are you having fun?" 

"Very much so," you replied, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. 

"So I'm winning sooner than I thought I would."

"Winning what exactly, Daniel?" you asked, raising an eyebrow playfully. "The game of enjoying this beautiful yacht ride? Then yes, I suppose you are." 

He laughed, but it wasn't his usual boisterous laugh. It was a softer, more genuine sound that made your heart flutter. 

He came closer. "Would you like me to whisper it in your ear?" 

As he leaned in, you could feel the warmth of his presence enveloping you. His eyes were locked with yours. 

"You're falling for me," he whispered, his voice husky. The words sent a shiver down your spine, confirming what you had been trying to deny for the past hour or so. Not because you didn't find him charming or attractive, but because you felt like you were betraying the person who broke your heart months ago. 

How can someone break your heart if it wasn't theirs to begin with? 

You push back those thoughts. 

The playful banter that played out all night faded into the background as a new energy filled the air, sparking a connection between the two of you that was impossible to ignore. 

You give in. 

"You think?" 

He nods, his eyes dark. Your hands were encircling his neck, one at the nape of his neck and the other against the side, where you could feel his heart pounding beneath the pads of your fingers. Your fingers scraped at bristled hairs as you held onto his curls, and you enjoyed the feel of them rubbing against the pads of your fingers. You were tightly gripping him in your hands, not allowing even a millimeter to pass.

Daniel couldn’t decide where to touch you. You huffed a breath against his mouth as the lightest of touches - the barest featherweight of fingertips, like your skin was made of silk, traced along the curve of your jawline. The sensation sent shivers down your spine, making you crave more of his touch. His fingers continued their exploration, trailing down the nape of your neck, leaving a trail of tingling sensations in their wake. 

He had pressed you against the railing at your back with no warning, and you felt the firm pressure of it. And now you arose from it, attempting to cling to every bone-hard surface of Daniel's body. His lips found yours in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that consumed all rational thought.

"People are watching," you whispered breathlessly, breaking the kiss reluctantly. Daniel's eyes met yours, filled with a mix of desire and mischief. He smirked, his hand sliding down your waist possessively. 

"Let them."

You were so fucked. 

•••

You’d barely been able to breathe these past couple of days with events and rendezvous with Daniel consuming your every waking moments. It was fast paced and you found yourself completely swept up in the whirlwind of emotions. He was showing you his world and you were willingly diving headfirst into it. 

It was Saturday morning, which meant is qualifying day and despite all of the media commitments and preparation that Daniel had to do, he’d promised breakfast as a way to make up for it. So here you were at a cafe only a short walk from the circuit, chewing your way through a delicious stack of pancakes while Daniel sipped on his coffee. 

It felt oddly comforting to be sitting there with him. He was a stranger to you just a few days ago, but now he feels like a familiar presence. The conversations flowed effortlessly between you; he was funny, attentive, and attentive, but most importantly, he wasn't afraid of showing you off and telling you how much he liked you. 

From the moment you crossed paths, he showed interest in you and made an effort. You haven't questioned whether he genuinely liked you or not. It was nice to be with someone who didn't play games or hide their feelings. 

Your mind has also found a new way to torture you: whenever you felt happy with Daniel, a nagging voice in the back of your head would remind you of him. 

Him. Him. Him. 

You couldn't even say or think of his name. It was too much.  

And yes, you were content, but you couldn't help but think about it. 

The first time you tasted Daniel's lips, you were let down it wasn't the same. That feeling of disappointment lingered, but as days passed, it dissipated more and more. Maybe one day it'll be gone completely, you thought. 

"So let me get this straight," you say, putting your fork and knife down on the plate. "You were on your way to winning in 2016, but a pit stop error cost you the race?" 

Daniel nods. "It haunted me for so long. I couldn't shake off the frustration."

You grab your coffee and lean back on the chair, listening intently. "It was very dark. I should've been happy because I was on the podium in Monaco, and that's huge, but I was miserable. The whole time, all I wanted to do was smash everything to pieces and scream, which is something you do not want to do in front of Monaco royalty, by the way." 

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued by Daniel's emotional upheaval. This was clearly a pivotal moment for him. "So, what finally helped you move past that?" you ask, curious to hear his response. 

"Well," Daniel begins, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I won last year." 

"Yeah, that'll do it." 

You both laugh, and he places a hand on your knee beneath the table. "But honestly," he continues, his voice softening. "It wasn't just about winning. It was about proving to myself that I could overcome my own limitations and achieve greatness." 

"So...winning basically," you respond, teasingly. 

"See, I wanted to be humble about it, but let's be real, winning felt pretty damn good," Daniel admits with a sheepish grin. "I love winning."  

You snort in amusement, "Well, I guess a little bit of bragging rights never hurt anyone." 

You two carry on with your meals. His left hand still on your knee, and the air filled with contentment. 

•••

While Daniel returned from the qualifying weigh-in, you waited at the back of the garage. You had gradually gotten to know the Renault team over the previous two days. Everyone, from the mechanics to the media team, has been friendly and welcoming to you. You're still trying to decide whether it's because of Daniel, your status, or that they were just nice. Pretty sure it was all three. 

You were aware that it would be best for you to stay out of the way as the team worked and the broadcasting teams were filming in and around the pit lane, but you were unable to hide in Daniel's prep room. At the back of the garage, you found a calm area where you could watch the busy activity without being a nuisance. 

You were aware that, although you might have been in the VIP sections, you couldn't be that far away from him. You were able to feel more connected to Daniel and the team's spirit by spending time in the garage.

The phone had been ringing nonstop all day in the back pocket of your pants; the screen frequently flashed with new notifications from your social media accounts or texts or calls from friends and family. You were aware that the countless pictures of Daniel and you parading through Monaco were the root of the problem. 

It was truly a sight to behold to be watching him race around the track and walk around the paddock. 

He was in his element. 

"You look cute, baby," he says, referring to the oversized headseat on your head. His face flushed from the heat, and yours from the compliment. His hair was messy and a little damp from sweat, evidence of the intense racing. He looked perfect. 

Fuck. 

He leaned in for a kiss, his lips brushing against yours, electricity rushing through you. 

Fuck. 

"I think you're winning," you say, your eyes fixed on him. 

"Aw, that's sweet of you, baby, but I didn't qualify that great," he chuckles, his eyes twinkling with amusement. 

"That's not what I meant."

His face is puzzled for a moment before realization dawns on him. He smirks, his signature smile spreading across his face. "Oh," he says, his voice filled with warmth and affection. 

"Yeah," you say, barely above a whisper, your eyes never leaving his. 

"I told you so," he replies, his voice filled with confidence and pride. 

"Shut up," you say playfully before kissing him again.

Fuck. 

You were falling for him. 

a/n: oh oh pedro...someone's stealing your girl. are you guys team pedro or team daniel?

Reblog or like if you enjoyed it! thank you for reading :)

[masterprocrastiwriter]

It's been a long, long while since I posted a fic. Also I've been hesitant for writing fanfics for a while because perfectionism, outside life and all that. I was quite conscious over this hurt-comfort story, but fuck it, I'm posting it here now. Hope you like it!

frail, yet brave.

a francis mosses story.

"I don't know, Francis." I murmured. "I honestly don't know what to do now."

Silence filled the entire room. Everything was dark except for the faint glow of hallway lights passing through the windows. I chose to keep the lights off tonight, and I'm relieved Francis didn't mind.

Even if I hardly see the surroundings as much, I could clearly see his brows and lips curve down into a somber expression. He's seen me like this for days—if it weren't for my tongue knotting up to say what bothered me so much to be like this, no matter how much I wanted to let it all out.

But I had to hold it until the weekend. Perhaps, by then, I'll tell him everything.

I quietly gasped when he suddenly pulled me into a hug, wrapping my body so evenly with his arms as he laid on the crook of my neck. I blinked a few times, my timid arms resting across the middle of his back.

He moved away to gaze at me again and my chest tightened at a closer look of his face. A hinting smile curved on his lips as he inched forward and carefully planted a soft, long, delicate kiss on my forehead. He parted, and kissed me there again, turning into a few more in slow intervals across it until he gradually moves down to my cheek.

Every single one of these kisses laid warmth on my skin like dabs of paint on the canvas that is my paled body. For most of the days feeling nothing, these marks of affection from his lips proved once again I could still feel something. I felt like trembling from within, hands closing into fists as I resist the urge to cry.

"Don't hold back, darling." His hand cupped my cheek like it was fragile. "Let it all out. It's just you and me."

Francis paused to gently rub the side of my face with his thumb, his eyes so full of affection and care. I couldn't bring myself to look away from it, because why turn away from something I longingly needed to see?

I quickly realized the tears blurring my vision, and the whimper in my throat and the tension of my body.

And his low, consoling hum was enough to break the dam and collapse myself onto his shoulder, holding him tight like I'm afraid to lose him.

I couldn't handle it. I just can't. Here I am emotionally shattering into pieces as I poured all of my pains, fears, and frustrations through the streams in my face and my loud, choking sobs that almost sounded like a dying howl.

"I don't understand!" I almost shouted between gasping my breaths, "I've ruined everything! I messed it all up, Francis, I swear I didn't mean to! I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m…" My words fade into a hard bawl.

I felt his head shake as he tightened his grip around my waist and grazed his hand across my hair, both faces laying directly on each other's shoulders.

It's surreal how incredibly vulnerable I am, at this hour, in front of Francis. My sobs were echoing throughout the silence, and the walls may have been thin enough that the neighbors could hear me, but what mattered at the moment was letting it all out.

I used to deal with all of this alone and it was a hurricane. I was scared and in pity of myself a lot, hurting my body and hurling things in rage and regret.

But Francis was here beside me now, comforting me.

Slowly but surely, the burdening weight lifted off of my chest that I was able to breathe normally. Francis left for a quick trip to the kitchen and went back, handing over a glass of water. I took it and poured the cold liquid down my drying throat, sighing as I put the glass down and looked at him.

"Feeling better, darling?" He asked with a gentle smile. I nodded in silence. He sat down and ran his hand across my skin, pulling me into a full embrace once again. I closed my eyes and savored the warmth radiating from his body, reminding me once again that I'm not in a lone, dark room, consoling myself in the way I wished someone would do so for me.

"You still have you." He cut the silence that made me look up. "And you still have me." He slightly shifted back to take the shape of my cheek. "Talk me to me about it if you can. I am here with you. Always."

[chucksfavouriteprophet]

Heal - V

Alpha!Bucky x Omega!Reader (female)

MASTERLIST

🪡 Summary: You and Bucky can no longer ignore what has happened, and the truth must emerge.

Warnings: Discussion of past sexual assault, nudity, angst, mostly fluff to wrap this series up

Word count: 1,388

🫁 Part IV

When you awoke the next morning, you were incredibly uncomfortable. Your head felt foggy, and you were tangled in sheets that wrapped around your naked body. You never usually slept naked, so the sight stopped you - but when you turned your head to see the sleeping form of you alpha beside you, it all came rushing back.

"B-Bucky..." you breathed out with a sigh of relief, your hand unconsciously going to touch your new mark, fresh yet painless already. He stirred slowly, rubbing his eyes, before scrambling from the bed and shoving himself up against the wall.

"Wha-what?" Confused further, you pulled the covers up to your chin, suddenly self conscious. Had you dreamt it all? Had your alpha never come to save you? Had you lured him here in his sleep?

With a gulp, Bucky surveyed your body, and was pleasantly surprised to see that you appeared to be in no pain and seemed much better than the previous evening.

"How, er, how are you feeling?" He ran a hand through his hair shakily.

"Better, thank you. Will you sit?" You gestured to the dent he had made in the mattress, and he hesitantly obeyed.

"I know that must have been hard for you," you started, not sure if he was ready to be touched yet but knowing you needed to get out what you needed to say before he could beat himself up further. "But you did what you had to. You saved me, and I know you didn't want to do what you did again, but it was the right thing."

He opened his mouth to protest, but you continued before he could. "And I'm sorry too, Bucky. I'm sorry after all the work you've put in, He still haunts you sometimes. And I'm sorry that you have to feel that pain that He initiates. And yes, I'm sorry that was how it had to happen, but I'm not sorry that it did happen.

You're my alpha, and I'm your omega. Let's be honest here, we've been denying that for a while. What happened was probably inevitable sooner or later. And what He made you do was horrific, and it's going to take me some time to get over that as well, but we will get over it if we stick together. Just...just please don't leave me again. That I don't think I can get over."

You were both crying now, wetting the sheets beneath you. Tentatively, you reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek, relieved when he closed his eyes and relaxed into you rather than shy away.

"Leaving you is the last thing I want to do, doll, but I can't risk hurting you again. Like you said, He is still in me, and I guess He ain't going anywhere any time soon. What kind of mate would I be if I can't even protect my omega from her own alpha?"

"A pretty shitty one, sure. But a mate who actively works to stop that from happening? I can't think of a better alpha."

"You shouldn't forgive me."

"I don't. I don't forgive you for leaving me, even though I understand why you did. And I don't forgive Him for driving you to do what you did, but I don't place that blame on you. But fuck forgiveness. This is bigger than forgiveness, this is bigger than me or you or Him. This is about us, and I think we can handle this. What you say?"

"I love you, doll. But I don't know what to do," he wept, and you pulled him into the crook of your shoulder, stroking his hair.

"Then I'll tell you what to do. We're going to Wakanda, tonight. We're going to tell Shuri what happened, and she's going to work with you to get Him out of your nightmares. This is nothing compared to when you still had the trigger words in you, so I don't question that this will be a walk in the park for her.

And this time, I'm going to be there too. I'm going to stick with you, through the good days and the bad, because I am not scared of Him, and I'm certainly not scared of you."

He pulled off, straightening himself up, his eyes suddenly afraid. "What if I don't wanna go back there? What if all those memories only make it worse, or what if she can't get him out of the nightmares...you said it, theres no trigger words now, maybe He's just in me and He's never going to go away. What if I can't go?"

You knew it would come to this, and you'd been preparing for it through the fever. The only thing that had got you through the lucid moments were thinking about your future with Bucky, coming up with a way to make it work for the two of you. You knew how much he would be beating himself up, but you couldn't ignore your own trauma either.

"Then we break this bond medically, and I leave. This is an ultimatum, Buck. Wakanda, or I walk."

His eyes grew wide again and he chewed on his lip. That was fair, after all. But it was scary. Petrifying, even.

"Okay. Tonight, we go."

You smiled up at him, planting a nervous kiss on his cheek. You couldn't deny that you were still hesitant with him sitting there, so conscious of what he could do. Yet at the same time, you just wanted to climb into his lap and crawl into his body, never letting go and refusing to ever part ways with him. One day you would allow that feeling to take precident, just not quite yet.

-

Bucky closed his eyes and let the dying sun soak his skin, feeling the wind tug at his outgrown hair and whistle in his ears. His flesh hand played with the soil beneath him, cold compared to the day's heat. In the distance, he could hear the hum of a song, one of the Wakandan mothers singing her children to sleep, while a goat stew, something he had become a master at cooking, was boiling away in the village below.

"You ready?"

The voice should have ruined the peacefulness up on the mountain, but instead it made him smirk unconsciously. He didn't flinch when your arm snaked around his neck, and his eyes remained closed. He even trust himself to move his metal arm to rest on your knee, rough and bruised from helping out on the farms over the months the two of you had been there.

"I'm ready, doll."

Like they usually did, your fingers went up to play with his knotted locks, longer than you'd seen them in a long time. "We don't have to leave, you know. You were right, it is incredibly peaceful here."

Bucky opened his eyes as he turned his head, making sure your glowing features were the first thing he saw.

"No, I'm ready. Our lives are back home. Plus, we have to test if all this worked, right?"

You sniggered with a shake of your head. "Oh Bucky, you know it worked. Shuri cleared you weeks ago."

"But we still have to complete the final test - going back to that room."

"True," you shrugged, nuzzling into him. "But between us, I'm pretty sure we've had enough therapy to beat anything."

Bucky kissed the top of your head, once again overcome with gratitude. He had been given yet another chance, right when he thought he deserved it the least. You had stood by him, and in turn he had stood by you. Although his nightmares were much less frequent and never so violent anymore, you still woke in the night in tears, and would never fail to break his heart. But it was true - you were stronger together, and that bond was healing in many ways.

The sound of a horn below jolted the two of you from your thoughts, and he scrambled up, holding out a hand. "C'mon, omega, lets get home."

Taking it graciously and purposely using his metal arm to wrap around your waist, you set off down the hill, kicking dust up into the sunset as you made your way to the jet waiting to take you to the rest of your lives.

The End

Bucky Taglist

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[neathbound-fiends]

My rough timeline of the major plot points for the Horticultural Show for people who didn't play it

It came to my attention from a friend being like "bestie WHAT is going on over there" that the fact that the plot moved so rapidly and had a lot of different moving pieces was hard to understand from just discussion and the dash, so here is my (rough) sequence of events for clarity and handy dandy purposes. If anyone else wants to correct something or add on, please do!

Garden festival (yay! Everyone spent the first day gardening and having fun!)

the opening ceremony happens, and during that Starved Men start attacking the City. no one is happy about this happening

we begged for help, and everyone said no :(

Sinning Jenny and the Admiralty actually end up helping (Jenny organizing volunteers for the relief effort like tending to the wounded and repairing damaged buildings, the Admiralty organizing volunteers for trying to drive the Starved Men out with violence)

this isn't working! at all! so we get sent to go look for clues about the Starved Men and how to actually defeat them and what they might want from us

we get a bunch of clues and now we can actually start hurting them and getting them to leave! everyone is excited about this part because it's the first time it feels like there's actually hope

we capture a few Starved Men that surrender, and who are the last ones in the City, and they're held prisoner in the brig on one of the ships while scholars try and figure out how to communicate with them

we can talk now! yippee! the Admiralty thinks these guys suck and doesn't wanna talk, Jenny wants to understand why. they tell us that it looks like the City is gonna be destroyed so they came down to try and make it Weird™️ in a way it'll survive this. there is also revealed to be another group of Starved Men who think it would be kinder to us to just murder us all instantly and are planning to flood London with sunlight. we are all distressed to hear this

we are now working on a two pronged approach: gather more allies to help fight with us and destroy the weapon (an oculus, which is basically a big sphere that's gonna have the light hit it and then it'll make the light go everywhere and burn everyone to death), and to actually FIND where they've got it. people get to take airships to the roof to look for the weapon, and you can take your ship and other things to other locations to recruit allies

we found it! now we have to destroy it. your player character goes with the group that's actually there to destroy it. other groups are running interference and trying to keep you safe to make it through

if you took too much damage, I guess you just land? I'm not sure, because I passed all my checks to not get smoked. I failed the check to destroy the oculus with the cannons, but even if you passed it, it doesn't actually destroy it, so you can't win. you either try and evade and land or you can crash your ship directly into it and the shaft of sunlight that will definitely permanently kill you

it doesn't! you get killed by the crash before you're killed by the sunlight, so you're good! everything worked out in the end!

the Boat Man confirms that London is not destroyed, which is handy because although it would be INCREDIBLY funny to have an event that ends the game completely and unexpectedly in concept, people would not like it if it actually happened. you get the option to either be relieved by this, pessimistic because what's the point if it'll probably happen again, or so outrageously overjoyed you start bellowing songs (and the Boat Man thinks you're so annoying he instantly clears your wounds so you go away)

you can plant stuff in a new community garden because Londoners decided to replant as a symbolic thing of moving forward! a Starved Man comes and you can either be like "fuck this guy, get out of here" and then destroy the flower he plants, or "come in friend and plant your thing" (I chose to let him plant the thing and then planted my own thing)

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

Australian GP 2024!

Mads' Race Recap!

Oh my jesus lord christ alive this was a goddamn good day. OK, I'll try to remain calm, but that is VERY difficult under the circumstances of my 3 best boys getting the podiums. But, I shall do this in order of constructors. Also, thanks to @lipringlrh for edging me through the entire bloody race cause she knew what happened, I swore I was going to be sick.

Red Bull - Nice qualis from Max, and I can't say I wasn't happy with Checo's three place penalty, just because I definitely think it helped the main race. Everything was all honky dory, then Carlos overtook and I was just like 'OK Carlitos, sure'. Then Max was slowing down... Then Lando and Charles passed, and the everyone else. The brakes were smoking, I was screaming out of pure joy. Now, don't take this the wrong way, I love Max. BUT, this provided my boys some very good opportunities. I reckon if Checo hadn't gotten the penalty, he could've tried to pip in front, but I won't dwell on what didn't happen.

Ferrari - WE GOT A FUCKING FERRARI 1-2 BABYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT WHEN I TELL YOU I LOST MY GODDAMN MIND IT IS UNPARALLELED! Anyway, I'll be constructive, for a moment, at least. Charles and Carlos had some mental quali pace, so how they didn't get pole is a little crazy to me. Alas, none of that matters now. The second I saw Max go, I was like 'oh fuck we've got it'. Carlos DOTD and race winner, barely 2 weeks after having his appendix out and he doesn't have a seat?! Absolutely diabolical. It was sweet how he went back to singing Smooth Operator, I was waiting for it. When I heard the commentators saying that they may swap the positions so that Charles could lead the WDC, I was shitting it. Yes, I wanted Charles to win, but I didn't want it to be because of something stupid like team orders. Charles can win without needing it handing to him, and it would've been so damn disrespectful to Carlos. Every year that a team has finished 1-2 in Melbourne, they've gone on to win both championships... It's our year, I'm telling you.

So happy to see them back at the top, both of them did incredibly, Charles was pulling pace out of God knows where for that fastest lap. And the strategy was good???? Like, bringing Charles in when he said he needed to? Listening??? Nice stuff. Hearing the Spanish and Italian anthems was absolutely amazing. Also, I feel like this really highlights how special Ferrari is. The team were screaming that Italian anthem like there was nothing more important to them, and they were all hugging and having a whale of a time. It was just so fucking nice to see Charlandos up there, so fucking good. So so so so so happy, Forza Ferrari. Everyone is a Ferrari fan.

McLaren - OK, so, quali wise, Lando kinda came out of nowhere. I feel like Oscar was just... There? We were racing, it was the 'rarri 1-2 with Oscar in P3 at his home race, it was lovely stuff. Then they swapped the positions. Can someone please tell me why they swapped the positions? Pretty sure it was something to do with either less pace or more recent pitting or something, but I'm not 100% sure. As much as I love Lando, I wanted him to stay down in P3 just for that Ferrari 1-2. I needed it. The last few laps, I was looking at the delta between Charles and Lando, and I was relieved to see that it wasn't changing. Super happy for Lando, Oscar did loads better at his home race, nice one for all.

Mercedes - What the hell is going on here? Like, Lewis' qualis weren't good, George's were fine, nothing bad but nothing spectacular. Now the race was something else. I can't really blame Lewis for his problem, since it was a mechanical issue obviously as opposed to driver error. From what I saw of George, he didn't even do anything that bad. One minute he was fine, the next he was turned on his side. I may not want Merc to get points, but I don't want a crash to be the reason why. He's OK, so that's all that really matters. But, as for the car in general, there's something wrong with it. It's not just a one week thing where it's a bit off, this has been consistent. Yes, George had a nice P3 in qualis the other week, but the pace just wasn't there at all in the race. I just don't know what's going on with them at the minute, and the fact that they're so behind the Ferraris and McLarens is concerning.

Aston Martin - Pretty mediocre all together, I've seen varied opinions on Fernando's 20 second pen. Some said he was kinda to blame for George's crash, from what I saw, he was just avoiding George after the fact. I don't really know, so I won't comment until I watch another replay. But yeah, nothing too special, but they do need to up their game.

VCARB/RB/REDBULLSHITTYEDITION - Yuki Tsunoda. Well bloody done babe. Got extra points thanks to the Fernando penalty, even if I didn't really see him during the race like... at all. But, he must've done a pretty damn good job to end up all the way in eighth before the end of the race. Now, Daniel. What is this man doing? 12th is not bad, but when your teammate with less experience in the same car is doing that much better than you in your home race, you know something's up. I love Danny Ric, but Carlos is more likely to get that Red Bull seat than he is at this rate. Slightly disappointed, I won't lie.

Haas - Both drivers getting points? OK, OK. I actually think Kevin could've gotten higher in qualis if Checo hadn't impeded, but I'm glad Checo was put down on the grid. Overall though, nice drive from both, nice to see them get points.

Williams - Right, realistically, what harm would it have done to let Logan drive? It wasn't his fault, Alex has fucked it at that circuit so many times at the same place, and Alex didn't even get points. It wasn't fair, and he took it like an absolute champ. #justiceforlogiebear #cancelwilliams

Kick Sauber - These guys need to fix their pitstops I swear to God. How many times are they going to get that wheel nut stuck on? They did 1 good one for Valtteri, but they screwed up all the others. Zhou's pitlane start was unfortunate after it looked like his front wing just... fell off. Someone said the car reminds them of a wheelie bin, I completely agree and can't see it any differently.

Alpine - Pierre 's fault for getting the 5 second penalty, but other than that, they were shit as usual. Pierre was running pretty high for a little while, then just kind of... fell back. I can't help but laugh at them, I know it's mean, I just find it so bloody comical. I think FC Versailles is just a distraction, but he has just invested in a Tier 3 league, unheard of French football team... Nice one, I guess.