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billthedrake · 2 days

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I've been wanting to write a chubby chaser story for a while, and this is what I came up with. It's not everyone's cup of tea, I know, but for those into it, I hope to do a follow up to go deeper.

CHASER BAIT

I reracked the weights and sat up on the bench. I'd have a better workout with a spotter, but I also enjoyed the quiet of the Stanford weight room at moments like this. It was summer session, and the football team was starting their summer pre-season camp. I'd have some consultations with a number of the athletes later on that afternoon, but for now they were all in a morning-long meeting.

All except for one.

"Hey Coach," came the familiar voice, though it took me a half second to place it. But I looked up to see Tyler Mills, all 6 foot 3 of him. Tyler was must have been a senior now. I'd worked a lot with him in his sophomore year, after he got his knee banged up pretty bad and had to rehab after surgery.

"Tyler," I said. "How's it going, man? How's the knee?"

I saw a look of sadness sweep behind the bright affable smile. "OK, I guess," he said, shuffling some on his feet. He was wearing shorts and an oversized Stanford T, and even beneath the draping shirt, I could tell that trim, buff Tyler Mills had put on a few pounds. "A lot better, actually, but I'm not on the roster now. They still let me come get a work out in, you know, hang out with the guys."

My heart ached for the guy. They hadn't taken away his scholarship, but the injury had taken away his football dreams.

I gave a sympathetic nod but mostly flashed a buddy kind of smile. "You know, if you want me to take a look at your knee, I can."

I was surprised by the flash of thrill in his brown eyes. "For real?" Then catching himself, he added, "I don't want you to have to do anything you're not supposed to, Coach."

I wasn't one of the main coaching staff. Instead I'd been brought in to do a combination of strength coaching and physical therapy for all the big Stanford teams, but football especially. Half the jocks called me Mr. Carson, half just Coach C. Tyler was in the Coach camp.

"You can see how busy I am right now," I joked, gesturing around to the near empty weight room. "How's this? You can spot me for the next couple of sets, and then we'll go get set up in the back room."

He bounded over behind the rack like an excited puppy.

He wasn't the only thing excited. I had to will my cock to stay soft or at least normal sized as I lay back and could see up into that oversized shirt. Tyler Mills had a classic ex-jock beer belly. Probably a solid twenty pounds that hung in a perfectly round swell just over the hem of his shorts.

I channeled that flash of lust into a great set, even with the extra weight. And I forced myself to be normal as I made small talk with Tyler as I rested a second.

Most of the time I'm professional as can be. I'm an out and proud gay dude, even if I keep a low profile at work. Even though I'm around very in-shape young athletes, there's generally not my type. It took a number of years to fully admit it, and many more years to fully explore it, but I'm a chubby chaser. A couple of the D-line guys have the girth that might capture my attention, but generally I was safe, no matter how hands-on I might be in my job.

Tyler Mills wasn't a chub, but something about that belly made that sense of safety go out the window.

He spotted me for a max-weight rep, then encouraged me like I was one of his gym buddies. "Beast!" he grunted.

I rubbed out the soreness then stood up from the bench. If I didn't know better, I would have thought Tyler was looking at me in that way, but he made some comment about how in shape I was. "You're definitely giving me goals, Coach," he said.

I was in shape. I'd been a lacrosse player at Maryland and after doing some personal training after college, I'd gone for my PhD in kinesiology. I was now religious about working out and eating right. I was 39 and not going to enter my 40s without doing my damnedest to resist getting older.

I led Tyler back to the room that was set up with a table and some basic rehab equipment - bands, small weights, balancing balls and the like.

I had him get on the table and asked him to update me.

"I've been doing my exercises, Coach," he said. "Maybe not religiously, but you know..."

I nodded and sat down in a chair next to the table. I was thankful for the XXL T-shirt and the way it didn't show off Tyler's belly. Tyler's legs were still big and tautly muscled.

"You able to do leg day now?" I asked, my hands massaging the right quad muscle and working down to knee.

"Yeah," he said. "With some adaptation."

"How's this feel?" I asked. A year and a half ago, the wide receiver would be wincing in pain the moment I touched anywhere near his knee.

"Normal," he said. He was looking down at me seriously, and I could tell the memories of our earlier rehab sessions were coming back to him.

I worked closer to the joint and pressed in with my fingers.

"Oh!" he gasped. "That hurts."

I let go and massaged down his calf. Then back up to the hamstrings. His legs were hairier than last time I'd had a PT session with him. I loved how soft his light brown fur was.

"Your hamstrings are way tight," I observed.

I pulled back and patted his thigh. "All right, let's do some simple body weight squats."

I worked him through a number of diagnostic exercises. He did them well, but quickly we found where his range of motion was compromised and the spots that gave him a sore pain.

He looked at me expectantly. The ex-jock had a soft scruffy beard now, kept trimmed, and he looked about five years older than when I last worked with him. But he still was young and had that innocence to his face.

"I can give you some new exercises to work on," I said. "What do you think of a weekly PT session... to check in?"

That surprised Tyler. "God, Coach, that would be incredible."

"It'd have to be bright and early," I said. The Athletics Department had a full day for me, and I knew I couldn't prioritize a kid not on the roster. But I could take an earlier train. I was probably crazy to volunteer this, but I was thinking with my dick, I knew. Besides, Tyler was a nice guy. One of those jocks who could be a beast on the football field but a sweetie off.

"I got nothing else going on, Coach," he agreed affably.

I gave him a bro-ish fist bump and told him I should get back to my workout. I had only twenty minutes or so before the morning team huddles were over.

The whole ride home I was questioning myself. Certainly my professionalism was going out the window. But at least Tyler Mills wasn't on the roster. And I really was helping the guy out.

I got home and even though I was hungry for dinner, I set down my keys and went to my bedroom, where a comfy bed and some lube was ready for a quick stroke. I kicked off my shoes and pushed down my joggers. My prick was already ready, jerking up into a rigid spike as I pulled down the covers. A couple of squirts in my palm was just the right amount for a good JO. I lay back and visualized Tyler Mills' belly. That twenty pound belly sticking out above me. I imagined him lifting his shirt for me, showing off that magnificent round girth, that ex-jock gut.

I shot hard.

****

I spend my teen years in denial and my college years sure that I was majorly fucked up for my kink. I'd grown up in a small town, with a bunch of Southern bubbas and men who were just big guys. My high school football coach, the vice principal, the neighbor dad next door, my boss at my summer job. Men who were thick all over but especially their bellies. They were the stars of my masturbation fantasies. To this day, I have a fetish for big guts filling out a button-down and hanging over a pair of khakis, especially framed by a Sunday-best blue blazer.

I moved away, away from the Southern bubbas and even from blue blazer country. But I eventually made peace with the fact I was almost exclusively into overweight guys. I discovered chubby porn and the chub/chaser subculture. I had my first real job with the Packers organization, learning and apprenticing there before getting a promotion. There was a lot of Wisconsin beef around that was fun to look at, but I didn't get to play with big guys as much as I wanted. I'd take trips to the city, to Chicago especially, where I lined up new chubs to fuck each visit.

I was in demand, too, as a chaser. Most chasers tend to be either twink-thin, or else have mild bellies themselves. I actually tried to gain weight once, until I realized that I had better luck attracting chubs with a fit, muscular jock body.

I started doing videos and developed a following. It was my man whore period. I wasn't always nice to the chubs I fucked. I regret that, and I took some time to learn how to be better. It was a tricky song and dance. I was attracted to them for who they were, but the power differential was a real turn on for me, too.

I got the job at Stanford and moved to San Francisco. It was incredible. I dated casually and slept around a lot. I got to know some fellow chasers, who became friends and competition all at once. Even in a big city, the chub/chaser scene could feel incestuous.

I had one experience with a superchub, a genuinely obese guy. It freaked me out a little, actually, but it was also thrilling to try it. It felt taboo as fuck.

But lately my lust swung the other direction. I got tired of the "chub" look and began getting more into regular guys. I'll call 'em dadbod-plus. Men with big beer bellies who reminded me of some of the hometown bubbas. I had about three off-and-on fuckbuds, mostly married guys from the Bay Area who'd come in, plus an occasional businessman hookup.

Life was good.

****

Or at least I thought it was good until Tyler Mills.

Something about that college senior got under my skin. He wasn't even that big. On his muscular 6'3" body, he carried that bulk well. And compared to the men I normally slept with, Tyler was actually kind of normal.

It was the third PT session when I asked him what his goals were.

He blushed. "To lose weight," he said. "I guess I got kind of depressed last year and put on some pounds."

I gulped. That horny knot was forming in my chest but I tried not to be weird. "It happens," I said nonchalantly.

"Not to you," Tyler beamed. His eyes sweeping up and down my 6-foot-and-buff body. "You're an inspiration, Coach." Then as he did a one-legged dip, he asked, "You got a girlfriend or anything?... Sorry, that's really fucking nosey."

"It's all right," I assured him. "No boyfriend," I said pointedly. If Mills was going to ask about my personal life, he could deal with the answer. "Maybe I'm not the dating type."

I expected surprise, but the former footballer was doing his best to act cool. "Like I said... sorry for being nosey, Coach."

Still Tyler had a more relaxed posture and his eyes seemed to be seeking out something from me. Approval, an opening, or something.

"I sometimes think it would be easier to be straight," he said.

It was my turn to be surprised. I know I didn't hide it well. Tyler grinned as he noticed.

"How so?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Girls can be into the whole teddy bear thing," he said like he'd been giving a lot of thought to it. Maybe he had. "Gay dudes have pretty high expectations."

My hands were on his waist now as I assisted his body weight squat. I really wanted to actively feel up the love handles but kept my calm.

"Can I give some real talk, Tyler?" I offered softly.

"Sure thing, Coach." I could tell he was nervous about what I was going to say.

"There are a lot of men open to some extra girth..." I said, letting that idea sink in. "And even if not... a guy doesn't have to be a chaser to go for a good looking dude like you."

"Oh," he said. I'd said the wrong thing.

"You know what a chaser is?" I asked.

I could see Tyler blush. "Yeah," he said. He seemed almost sullen now. "You think I'm a fat guy, Coach?"

"Hardly," I said. Trying to keep my lust in check, since I knew I was dealing with a fine young man's real emotions. "God's truth. And there are plenty of guys who'd be into the ex-jock package."

I'd probably said the wrong thing there, too, since I knew Tyler felt bad he was no longer playing. But he perked up. "Yeah? I should get up to the city sometime." He paused before admitting, "Before I got injured... I met some guys online. It was fun."

"You're, what, 21? You should be having some fun, Tyler," I said. I didn't even mean it to be lecherous. But this young man deserved to have sex.

"Thanks, Coach, for the pep talk."

I patted his shoulder. Trying to make it a normal pat. "Any time. You know... I know you don't need me to show you around, but if you're ever up the city and want to hang out...."

I half regretted saying that, but you don't hit the shots you don't take. And my cock was definitely running the show.

"Yeah, Coach," Tyler said.

****

We'd wrapped up the PT session as normal. He had my cell number to text, but I was't going to push anything. I'd laid it out there, and Tyler could decide if he wanted to come into the city. He probably thought I was making a platonic offer, kind of a mentor big gay brother thing. I'd do that, too.

A week later I got a text to see if I was up for company on Saturday afternoon. I cleared my plans and moved my Saturday workout earlier.

Tyler looked like a million bucks when I met him for a late lunch. Gone was the oversized T shirt and he had on one of his older shirts that stretched snugly across the beer belly. Tyler Mills still wasn't in chub territory, but I had underestimated how much the guy had packed on his mid-section. Even if Tyler and I didn't fool around, I'd have a great JO with that visual.

Better was how the guy seemed to be more comfortable in his skin. We grabbed tacos in the Mission and hung out in the park. Even from behind his sun glasses Tyler seemed to be eyeing me up. I guess my own snug T-shirt and shorts were showing off my buff build to good effect.

"Can I ask a personal question, Coach?"

"You can call me Steve," I said. "And sure."

His smile grew serious. "Are you a chubby chaser?"

I thought of not telling him the truth, but I'd spent too long not embracing that part of me. I didn't like lying about my kink now. "Yeah, I am, Tyler."

He expected that answer but maybe not the direct confidence with which I answered him. He was letting it sink in. "I wouldn't have thought... a guy like you."

I shrugged. "I was about your age when I realized I could become the man I wanted to have sex with. Or be the man who'd get the guys I wanted to have sex with."

"Do all those chubby guys..." he lowered his voice. "Go for thinner dudes?"

"Not all," I assured him. "And some like more twinky types. But I do pretty well."

"I bet," Tyler said. Then catching himself, added, "Sorry Coach... Steve."

I laughed. "Am I freaking you out, buddy?"

"It's weird," he said. "Especially if you think of me that way." Leave it to this sweet jock to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

I gave him the most reassuring look I could. "You're not a chub," I said. "And it's not about labels... actually lately I've gotten more into regular guys with a little extra around the middle."

That seemed to put him at ease. He leaned back and nodded down to his stomach.

"Like mine?" he asked.

My dick was chubbing up. No stopping it. "You have no idea."

"I guess I had a little," he admitted. "After our last conversation. It got me going online," he chuckled. "I decided to wear something tighter fitting."

I tried not to sound like a creep. "I've very glad you did, Tyler."

That made him smile. "You know, this is the first time I've felt sexy in two years."

"You are sexy," I assured him. "Sexy as fuck."

"Coming from you, Steve, that's amazing." He spread his legs out some and seemed to be showing his gut off for me.

I wanted to kiss him, bad. But my greater head prevailed. "You know, in my position..." I started.

Tyler seemed almost scared of my rejection. "I wouldn't tell anyone, Coach. Promise."

This was going to happen. "Wanna come back to my place?"

He nodded like an excited kid. God, Mills was adorable as fuck.

We were both smiling goofy grins as we made out way to my condo.

"Nice place, Steve," he said as he looked around. "Hopefully I can move to the city after graduation."

"You should," I said. "You'd have a blast."

That made him smile. He stepped up to me, waiting for me to take the rest of the initiative. I did, pulling Tyler into me and claiming a soft kiss. Even if I wasn't the dating type, I was very much the kissing type.

This ex-baller was too. He responded with soft caresses of his tongue against mine, gently sucking me into his mouth before pushing back.

Meanwhile, my fingers were tracing beneath the hem of his shirt. I'd dreamed of touching Tyler Mills' gut for weeks now, and I was now doing it. His belly was firm and fat at the same time. I was rock hard and moaned into his mouth.

For his part Tyler was feeling me up, my arms, my chest, my back. He was just as turned on as I was.

I pulled him back, silently stepping us back toward the bedroom. We wouldn't make it all the way there that way, but Tyler got the idea. Breaking the kiss, he let me lead the way.

I think I gasped when he pulled that shirt off. The chest and arms and shoulders were football solid - Tyler hadn't neglected his weight training - but the belly was round and heaved as he undid his shorts and peeled them down.

My cock was hard and I enjoyed Tyler's gaze on my naked body as I got into bed first. He was actually showing off his belly to me as he got in on the other side.

Our mouths met and we both responded to each other's nakedness with an amped up fervor. I could now feel Tyler's thick dick below, humping into my hip. We made out hungrily, and felt each other up and lived out several weeks of pent-up lust. It was all coming out forcefully.

Particularly as Tyler rolled his big body on top of mine and began kissing along my neck, his hardon humping into me and his hands holding me down gently. I'd experienced this before with guys I hadn't met online. The wrestling for top bunk. Tyler Mills wanted to fuck me.

I was 90 percent top, but I wanted to give Tyler his wish. He needed the confidence boost, I decided, and his bulk felt pretty damn nice on top of me.

I felt his love handles getting more and more excited to take this ex-wide receiver's dick.

"Can you give me fifteen minutes, bud?" I asked. "I can get cleaned out for you."

I wasn't sure of Tyler Mill's experience, but he wasn't totally green. His eyes lit up. "Oh yeah." He rolled off me, letting me get off the bed and to the master bathroom.

I cleaned out and showered off and came out to see the college guy waiting expectantly, his prick not having gone down a bit. Tyler wasn't hung overly long but it was a decently thick tool that looked amazing riding up the swell of his beer belly. Mills might not have been a chub but I had a flash of excitement imagining him getting bigger.

"God Steve, you're amazing." He gave his prick a couple of tugs as I got into bed again.

"You too stud. Fuck."

I could see that confidence boost working on Tyler. Two years of injury and recovery and depression had taken a toll on the guy, but the fact I wanted him, really wanted him, had him brightening up visibly.

We kissed again, hungrily, and Tyler unleashed the inner beast. His kisses were more fevered against my neck and chest and even lower.

I lifted my legs back. Tyler wasn't skilled in rimming but he loved going hog wild. That worked for me. It had been too long since I'd had my ass eaten, and the fact it was this young big-bellied stud doing it had me wanting to put out.

I finally handed him some lube. His grin was big as he flipped the lid and began prepping me with his fingers. Eyes on my body and my face more than my hole.

"You do this much, Coach?" he asked with heavy lust.

I shook my head. "Usually I'm top," I said. "But I want you in me bud."

That made his prick jerk. He was so horny but also wanting to be respectful. He now worked in two and three fingers in me in alternation. My hole was feeling good.

"We, um, need protection or something?" he asked.

"I have some," I answered. I had one married fuckbud who insisted on condoms. "But I'm on PREP and get tested."

"Fuck," he hissed. He pulled back his fingers and slathered the excess lube onto this cock. Before I could react he was scooting up and stuffing it into my hole.

"Easy!" I urged. The entry was quick.

"Sorry," he said. He was clearly carried away. But now he held steady.

I looked up at him, his scruffy handsome face and his strong build and that round gut. And I opened right up for Mr. Mills.

"Fuck!" I hissed as his slick bone slid into me. "Yes..."

"God Coach," he grunted.

We weren't verbal. I don't know if Tyler was naturally the verbal type. But we didn't need sex talk. We were both in thrall with the other's bodies. Tyler's round 20-pounds of gut flesh swelling out between my spread legs, jiggling slightly as his whole body thrust into me. Maybe I should bottom more, I thought, because my insides felt alive at that moment. Not just my p-spot but all of it.

Tyler was cumming before I knew it, his face hardening into a determined top face as he drove in faster to get his nut. It was intense, but in a good way. I jerked my dick and rode the crest of my own orgasm.

We were hyperventilating as we uncoupled.

"Damn," he hissed. Resting his head on my shoulder and snuggling up to me. "Thanks for that."

I kissed his forehead. "Thank you, stud... I needed that more than I realized."

He smiled, and leaned forward for a kiss. I was happy to give him one.

We lay in bed and talked about men and sex and life. I didn't give him my whole life story, but Tyler got some hints about what being a chaser meant for me. He was still dealing with the closet and learning about sex beyond porn.

****

We had a mini affair, until Tyler got freaked out. I think some of it was wanting to play the field. But he still didn't like thinking of himself as fat and didn't like that's the part of him that I responded to.

I said something that triggered him, but it was probably bound to happen anyway. He stopped answering my texts, and if he came into the city, it wasn't to see me.

My fortieth birthday came and went. I wondered what I was doing with my life. Maybe it was time to become the dating type. But I had two fuckbuds on the regular now. A big extra-beefy coach from South Bay and a pot-bellied married guy from the suburbs. Occasionally I got DMs on my old twitter account, and I hooked up with a couple of chubs who came to town. I heard from a superchub who was a big fan of my old videos, but I wasn't sure I wanted that experience again.

I didn't expect a text out of the blue. But one spring day, Tyler texted me. "How you doing, Coach?"

It was the right text at the right time. I perked up at my desk. "Doing well. How about you Tyler?"

"Can't complain." Then "Sorry I went no contact."

"No expectations," I said. "For real."

"Cool." A minute passed then. "Can I see you sometime?"

"I'm out of town the next couple of weeks," I wrote. Spring Break was coming up, and I had a vacation tripped planned. "But I'm around after."

"Nice. I'll reach out."

****

We picked up right where we left off. Sort of. When Tyler showed up at my place, he was bigger. The twenty pound gut had become a thirty pound gut. He had some amazing genetics that concentrated the extra fat into his belly. He wore a polo shirt that showed off the round swell to good effect.

"Hey," he said with a nervous smile as I led him in. He was clean shaven now, and as adorable as ever. The baseball cap topped off the collegiate look, but I playfully took it off him and tossed it aside before leaning in.

Our kiss was soft. I grunted as I felt his hard-soft stomach press against my flat one.

I wasn't sure what to expect but as we made out and pawed at each other, I knew we were going to have sex. First thing.

"Bedroom?" I asked.

Tyler nodded excitedly. "Yeah. One of these days I'd love to do it elsewhere... try every room in your place."

I pawed at my crotch. "You look so hot, Tyler," I grunted.

He grinned and puffed out his chest some. Gone was the kid shy about his weight. At least for now. "I tried to lose weight Coach, but figured, fuck it."

My fingers were now tugging at that polo shirt. Tyler helped me take it off the rest of the way. His chest was meaty as ever and that just made his big gut hotter. I openly ran my hands over all of it, shoulders to stomach and back. Tyler relaxed and let me.

"I've never been fucked, Steve," he said.

My hands paused. "Yeah?" I asked expectantly.

Tyler was nervous as fuck. I got that. "I've been thinking about it. A lot."

My hands more gently massaged him. Not in a chub chaser kind of way, more in a reassuring caress kind of way. "I've broken guys in before," I said softly. "I know what I'm doing." God at that moment I knew I'd kill to get into Tyler Mills' ex-jock hole.

He gave me a playful grin. "I know... I, um, came across some of your vids, Coach," he said. "Actually a lot of them."

I blushed. I don't even know why. But it was a part of my life that was kind of behind me. "Hope you liked them."

He nodded. "I thought of being one of those guys you did." That impish look grew stronger. "Damn, some of those guys are BIG too," he laughed. "You really are into that."

I nodded. But patted his stomach which was still hard-fat but had more give these days. "You're more my speed for now, Mills," I grinned. I don't know why his last name came out, it just felt right.

Our lips were softer touching again. But Tyler's hands fumbled with my jeans and greedily reached in to grip my boner. He had a good touch. I suspect Tyler had fooled around with other men over the last year-plus. I was glad.

"You're big," he finally said as we broke. Tyler was looking down at the cock in his fist.

"Not too big, Tyler," I said.

He thought about it. "I jerked off so much to your vids. Just watching you..."

I patted his arm. All solid. "The real thing will be hotter," I said.

He crouched down in front of me. Tyler wasn't going to suck me to completion. I wasn't going to let him. But from our previous affair, I knew he could. Slowly he sucked down several inches and worked up a nice, slow bob. I enjoyed the foreplay and finally pulled him up.

Then returned the favor. I love sucking a fat guy, feeling the belly press against my forehead as I work my mouth closer to the base of the dick. Tyler now had enough to let me know I had some real girth on my hands.

I finally spit out his cock. "Turn around," I urged.

Tyler had a football player's ass. Round, hard but not a bubble but. Tyler was just now starting to get the fullness a fat dude has, particularly along the upper part of the glutes where they meet the love handles circling around the lower back.

It drove me wild. I parted those muscle buns and dove in. Licking up and down that lightly furry trench.

"Yes," Tyler hissed. He clearly loved having his ass eaten. He liked it even more when I really went at it, drilling in with my tongue. Tyler was clean as a whistle, and I knew he'd prepped for me.

He now leaned over which made those love handles squish some. I growled into that hole and ate him out more eagerly.

I finally pulled out. I slid my finger along the spit wet trench but not penetrating him. "I'll take it easy, stud. But I gotta get inside you."

He nodded. His nerves coming back. But he accepted my kiss when I stood up and let me guide him back to my room.

"I'm at 240 now," he boasted as he got into my bed.

Between the videos and that admission, I realized Tyler had absorbed at least some of the chub/chaser kink, at least enough to use it to turn me on.

"Incredible," I said. I grabbed some lube and fisted my cock, in full view of Tyler's hungry gaze. "I hope you're feeling good about your body."

"Yes and no," he answered truthfully. "But I'm really glad you like it."

"You have no idea, buddy," I said.

"I have some idea," he replied, glancing at my cock.

We kissed and embraced. I felt him up but no more than he gripped my toned bulked muscle. I applied more lube to my fingers worked them in between his buns. Probing and teasing until it felt right to enter him.

He hissed but I could tell he enjoyed it. Our faces were close and our bodies touched as he angled his beefed-out body so I could get access. I took advantage. One finger, then another. Slowly working him open. Eyes locked on his the whole time.

"Feel good?" I asked.

"Yes, Coach."

A third finger pushed in. It was a lot for Tyler, but after a minute I could tell that was feeling good too.

"Can I ride you?" he asked.

"It's actually tougher for the first time that way," I explained. "Let me take the cherry and then we can do whatever position you want. OK?"

He seemed to trust me. So I guided him on his back, that round stomach perfectly resting. I slid a pillow beneath his hips and rested his legs on my shoulder. He was nervous now, but I fingered him some more. Like five minutes more, before I lined up and pressed in.

He gritted his teeth and winced but the feeling didn't hurt like he expected. I took my time then finally pressed past the tightness of those first three inches.

Tyler's eyes opened. THIS felt good to him. I slowly pumped, my movements gentle even as my eyes fixed his with a controlling gaze. Silently urging the ex-jock to take my dick.

He relaxed into the fuck, a look of gratitude on his face. I was showing Tyler a new way to be a man.

I pumped out some lube on to his palm and when he stroked in rhythm to my stokes, the lightbulb really went off.

"I can feel it," he said. "My prostate."

I fucked harder now, and the guy nodded up with excitement, his hand going faster on his thick dick. His belly jiggled now which was going to get me off, soon.

"You like my body," he said. Or maybe asked.

"I love it. Love fucking that thick ex-jock body, Tyler."

"I thought you might prefer me bigger," he hissed, softly. Embarrassed at the admission.

I didn't care. He was getting me out of control. I pounded him, making all that excess flesh move and jiggle wildly. His face turned red then his whole body and I watched streams of cum jet out in thick ropes onto that beer belly.

I nutted. Matching Tyler's cumload size, deep inside his once-virgin ass.

Later, as we showered and made out, I told him that just was about the hottest sex I'd ever hard. I wasn't exaggerating.

He leaned into my hands as I worked the suds over his girthy flesh, trying not to fixated on his midsection.

"I know you're not the dating type, Coach, but can we go on a date some time?" he asked.

I gave him a kiss. Not quick, not slow. "It's the least you deserve, Mills," I replied. My cock chubbing up a little again.

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saffusthings · 2 days

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Baby I Can Feel Your Halo

oscar piastri x personal assistant! reader

summary: the one where the world gets to become familiar with a new name: Y/N L/N. word count: 8.4k warnings: awkwardness, my attempt and poetic writing, poor understanding of how film and media works, Lando as a bit of a side character, poorly edited writing a/n: i can't tell whether this is half decent or nonsensical. inspired by That Viral Interview. i have a soft spot for this part of the story, so i hope you guys are able to like it too.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

She’s going to kill him.

Clicking her phone on to check the time for the umpteenth time as if it will make this stupid elevator go any faster, she lets out a huff. The tapping of her shoe acts as a placebo, perhaps. Or maybe this elevator is actually getting slower-

When the metal gates finally part, she bolts. As gracefully as one can, she awkwardly half-run, half power walks past the hall of doors until she reaches Room 307.

She doesn’t even pretend to knock. Glancing at her phone one more time - 27 calls - she slips a plastic card from the lanyard around her neck. When it beeps, flashing green, the door opens with a click, allowing her to storm in.

To her credit, she at least waits for the door to close before she yells.

“Oscar Jack Piastri!”

Oscar wakes to a fire. Or at least that’s what he has to assume is happening, considering someone is screaming his name at full volume. Eyelids barely open, he immediately sits up in bed. “M’awake! Jesus, give me a second,” he mumbles, trying to rub the sleep from his eyes.

Tossing him his pants that had been hanging in his closet, she goes around, picking up any stray items. “Put some pants on,” she grumbles. “C’mon get up, we’re already-”

“-running late,” he says defeatedly, eyes landing on the bedside alarm clock.

When he finally steps out of the bathroom, his brows are scrunched in confusion. She’s typing something on her phone, and definitely not trying not to look at him.

It’s been over a week since their almost-kiss in her office. She’s no rookie, she’s been more than professional since, knowing she can’t risk this. But a small part of her can’t help but think of how close his lips had been to her anytime she’s standing close enough to smell his familiar cologne.

She’s interrupted from her thoughts by the sound of Oscar’s voice, her thumb still hovering over her phone from her long forgotten text.

Trying to get the swoop of his hair to land in some sane looking way, he gestures to the pine green spread out for him on the bed, the one she insisted he wear. “You sure about this?”

He watches her as she knits her eyebrows together as she gives him the once over. “Yes. You look good in green,” she explains, still entirely absorbed in sending an e-mail to their media liaison.

It’s only once he’s finally dressed that she gets up and gives him a look over. Her lips purse before she motions for him to stand closer. “C’mere.”

She aligns the seams that are supposed to trace along his shoulder, before using her hands to smooth out any wrinkles in the soft fabric. She stands back for a moment, before coming closer again, and pulling his sleeves up just a bit in a way that exposes some of his forearm. Assessing it one more, and seeming content with how it looks, before doing the same to his other sleeve.

Entirely unaware of the chaos his cardiovascular system seems to be undergoing, she gives him one last look over, and wipes a bit of excess moisturizer that had been left on his nose.

“There we go,” she says with a small smile.

Grabbing her things, she stands at the door before looking back for him. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, patting his pockets and searching the hastily made bed. “Just…”

“Good to go,” he announces, swiping his phone off the bedside table, and tucking into his pocket before following her into the hall. “Where are we headed?”

“They’ve set up in one of the conference rooms near the swimming pool” she says from over her shoulder as they make their way down. “It’s some Australian channel looking to do a segment on their hometown hero, so it should be a safe set. Of course, if they veer off course, let me know and I’ll take care of it. ”

“Will you be there? Or are you headed back to the office?” Oscar asks. His tone makes it difficult to differentiate whether he's nervous, wary, or doesn’t want her to be there, but he hopes she understands anyway.

“Yep,” she replies, smiling. Oscar wonders why his chest feels warm.

“That’s my job, remember?”

When he gets to hair and make-up, he can’t help but feel more than a little lost. Not because of the makeup, certainly - god knows Hattie has tested more than enough ‘smokey eyes’ on him - but rather because when he sits in the chair, the woman immediately asks what kind of look he wants to go for.

Huh?

He looks over to Y/N with desperate eyes.

Help me, please.

She’s quick to walk over and greet Lindsay, his stylist for today, with a warm smile. Once she’s sure that the stylist is okay with taking recommendations, the rest of it comes easily.

“We’ll wanna do some powder to counter the glare from the studio lights,’ she suggests, glancing at the woman for approval. Tilting Oscar’s face, the two women survey him analytically.

“It’s up to you if you want to add a little warmth, but no blush or color corrector or anything like that. And then his hair looks good like this, so we don’t need to do anything there. How does that sound?”

The elder woman nods in agreement before pointing at different parts of Oscar’s face and mumbling somethings to Y/N who nods along thoughtfully.

Finally, he’s left at the mercy of his stylist, as Y/N walks away.

Once the mic checks are complete and the people behind the large lights give the go ahead, one of the employees counts off the seconds before the cameras start recording.

Oscar spends those seconds looking over to wherever she is. She’s stood by one of the people carrying a large white panel, watching on to make sure everything runs smoothly. They’ve done this dance probably dozens of times, but the buzzing lessens once he assures himself that she’s still in the vicinity.

He watches her nod, giving him a reassuring smile, and then, Oscar is ready.

“And cameras are rolling 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.”

“We’re here now with Oscar Piastri,” the host says with a warm smile, “now in his second year of representing Australia in the highest level of motorsport - Formula One. Thank you so much for joining us, Oscar.”

“Of course, thank you for having me,” Oscar smiles, that polite cat smile that’s become associated with his name. “Just Oscar, is usually fine though,” he jokes, never one to feel too comfortable with high praise. The host laughs good naturedly, “Oh, the boy’s got jokes now, does he?“ Oscar seems to glow in the spotlight. Something about him, even in front of the cameras, seems to radiate comfort, familiarity. Even on TV, even with his rising stardom, his laidback posture and the crinkle around his eyes when he smiles suggests that he could be the boy next door, that he could be your boy next door. The cameras are not the only thing focused on him. “So Oscar, not sure if you remember, but you did a sit-down with us last year as well.” “Of course. I don’t forget that easily, Mick,” the driver replies easily. “I’m not that old.” “No, no, in fact, you’re quite young aren’t you? Only 23 and already in your second year of Formula 1.” “Yeah, feels a bit strange when you say it like that,” Oscar chuckles, “but yeah. It’s been a bit of a wild ride.” Mickie smiles. “One year closer to retirement, I imagine?”

“God no,” Oscar scoffs, shifting in his seat to get a bit more comfortable. He looks more relaxed this way, more open. “I’m not leaving without a championship, so you’ll be seeing me around for a while. Sorry to disappoint.” Laughing good naturedly, the older man shakes his head. “Far from it. You’re a hometown hero. You’ve got everyone here rooting for you,” he tells him, gesturing to the crew around them.” Smiling gratefully, Oscar nods. “Yeah, I’ve been pretty lucky with all the support. That always makes a difference.” “I’m sure it does. Who would you say are your biggest supporters?” “My parents, for sure. I’m sure there’s a clip of my mom talking about my… let's call them oddities, as a child,” Oscar laughs, referring to his habit of make-believing as a car around the house, or how he wanted car magazines read to him instead of bedtime stories. “If they hadn’t put up with me through that, there’s no way I’d be here now.” It’s clear as day that beneath the thin film of humor, there’s a chasm of sincerity. He really does love his family - always making time to call them during long trips away or even just because. Working on media with Oscar is (usually) pleasant for that same reason - you don’t have to give him PR-written responses or pre-plan his anecdotes to make the audience fall in love with him. He tells the truth, and they can’t help but fall in love all on their own. “I’ve also got other supporters too. Silent supporters, I guess you could call them, since you all don’t see their faces as much. But my sisters, my team, Y/N, the fans - they are the reasons I get to live my dream everyday.” Mickie nods in acknowledgement. “Of course. Though I see we’re name dropping now,” he teases. Oscar looks up at him, mild panic hidden behind his eyes. He’s only just about to adjust his cap - a predetermined signal to Y/N that he needs her to intervene somehow - when Mickie interrupts his train of thought. “You mentioned Y/N as one of your supporters. Could you tell us a bit more about that?” When Oscar looks at the man with the salt and pepper hair, he doesn’t see the usual malice or hunger that many reporters would have if they had been in the same position. Mickie has been good to him and his team in the past - not coming off as a dog with a bone, but instead as an easy conversationalist who happens to be genuinely curious about Oscar and his life. The young driver recovers easily from his momentary scare. “Oh, yeah. Y/N’s definitely one of my greatest supports. I’d tell you all that she works for me, but I think she might poison my coffee if I did that.” The two share a laugh, easing Oscar’s nerves a little. He subtly adjusts his watch instead.

It’s alright, I got it.

From behind the cameras, Y/N takes a small breath of relief. Though she’s pleased the conversation didn’t take a turn for the rumor mill, she’ll still be a little on edge anytime her driver is in the media’s playpen.

“Alright then. Without risking your coffee, what can you tell us then? That’s not a name we’ve heard too often around the paddock.”

“Yeah, I mean. It’s a shame too - she’s supposed to be my assistant, but with how much she’s involved in everything, we might have to come up with a better title for her,” Oscar smiles easily. Mickie gives him a smile, straightening his notecards into a neat stack. “Is that so? Must be high praise, coming from a big-shot like yourself.” The air is pleasant, the conversation flowing naturally. Even as an observer, the scene could almost be mistaken for a casual chat in a living room somewhere. Oscar shakes his head. “Not enough, actually. When I say I wouldn’t be here without her, I mean it literally. If she hadn’t come to my rescue this morning, I’d probably still be in bed!” Mick leans over, laughing. “Glad to see how much you value our time here together, Oscar!” “Even if I did, I value my sleep more,” Oscar deadpans, a sly smile on his face. “I don’t envy her job, not in the slightest.” “Fair enough, fair enough.” The conversation makes its own way from there - Oscar’s goals for this year, what people can expect from the team this season, how the new car has been.

“So what I’m hearing is that we have a promising season ahead?”

“I mean, every season looks promising at the start really, but yeah, I have a good feeling about this one. Cautiously optimistic, we’ll call it.” “Well I’m sure I’m not the only one when I say that I can’t wait to see what you have in store for us this season, Oscar.” “Wow, no pressure there. Thanks, though.”

The two share a laugh. It’s getting closer to the end of the segment, but with some time remaining. Mickie decides to take the conversation in a different direction. “Now that we’re done with all the shop talk.” he starts. “I was wondering if you could tell us what Formula 1 has been like for you personally. Last time around, during your rookie season, you mentioned that the intensity of the training and the magnitude of the races were some of the things that took some getting used to. Would you say the same is true now, or have you gotten used to it?” Oscar nods, thoughtful. “Yeah, I mean, your rookie season is always an adjustment. It took me some time to get used to that stuff, and I’d say I’m better at it now,” he answers honestly. “But that doesn't mean there aren’t still things I’m learning to get used to.” “What kind of things?” “As you can probably tell, the time zones are one thing,” he laughs, animatedly gesturing to where his eye bags would be. For a second, there’s silence as he’s given a moment to think, before he finally speaks again. “I’d say the people, too.”

“The drivers, the teams, or the fans?” Mick asks curiously. “The fans are pretty great,” he tells him. “But I think I meant like the drivers and their teams?” Oscar tries to explain. “Like, you have to understand that there’s so many people in this complex machine that is Formula 1. And every single person that’s there, is because they’ve got this insane drive to win - that includes the drivers, of course, but the engineers, and the strategists, and the trainers too.”

“Tell me a bit more about that.”

“I mean, like, even in Formula 2, with Prema, there was a certain level of friendship and camaraderie that gets overshadowed in Formula 1, because of just how competitive everything is,” he explains, gesturing with his hands. “It’s crazy how the drivers flip a switch for lights out or the chequered flag, because that’s what comes with competing at the highest level.”

The host nods, making an effort to understand.

“Would you say it strains relationships then? This sort of… dual personality that you and the other drivers have to have?”

“Honestly. To some degree, I imagine it has to. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be friendly with one another.”

“You’d mentioned earlier this year, in an interview with your company Quadlock, actually, where they asked you if you had any mates on the grid, and you replied with…” Oscar chuckles shyly, recalling the moment. “No friends, only enemies,” he quotes himself. “Exactly,” the older man chuckles. “Would you say the same is true for you now?” “The honest answer would be yes and no.” The man sitting across from Oscar raises an eyebrow at this, intrigued. “When you live in that bubble with people that are, at their core, just as competitive as you are..” he trails off, contemplating how to phrase it. “Let’s just say it has an interesting way of showing you who your friends and your enemies are.”

“And has it?” Mick asks genuinely. “Shown you your friends, I mean?” Oscar takes a breath before replying. “I mean, of course. There’s Lando, y’know - as my teammate, he’s always my greatest competitor but also the only one who can kind of understand where I’m coming from. Logan, also - you know we grew up through the lower Formulas together. He and I have been teammates in the past too, so it’s nice to have an old friend on the grid. Y/N too, y’know - we’re pretty close in age, and she’s really been there for the highs and the lows.”

“We’ve seen you interact with Logan and with Lando, but what would you say your friendship with Y/N is like?”

“I mean, we work together, so a lot of it comes from that,” he shrugs, not wanting to slip up and say the wrong thing. He signed up for the spotlight, but putting his assistant, his friend there without discussing it with her would be unfair.

“We work in tandem, you see - she takes care of everything outside the car, while I take care of everything in it.”

The interviewer hums thoughtfully. “That sounds like a dynamic that requires a lot of trust, I’d say.”

“Maybe, but she hasn’t let me down even once in two years.” For a moment, for a fraction of a second it feels like Oscar’s eyes glance in the direction of where she’s standing with the tech crew, but it must be a trick of her imagination. They’re standing in the shadows, and it’d be a stretch for her to think that he could even see her in the first place. “Not even once.”

“Would you say your friendship complicates this dynamic, or simplifies it?”

“Helps, definitely. Easier to get out of media duties that way,” Oscar jokes. Mickie laughs easily at that, before focusing on the subject once again.

“Really? You two don’t face any challenges with that? I’d imagine with the other drivers that that boundary is a bit more clear, what with them being your competitors and all.” Oscar lips press together, his tongue subtly running over his lower lip to soothe the pressure. “I think maybe if it were someone else, then it would be. But not with her.“

Looking over to the armchair, he can see that the other man looks surprised.

“You seem quite confident in saying that.”

“I am,” he says bluntly. Why wouldn’t he be?

“And what inspires that confidence?”

“Just who she is, really, “ Oscar answers with a shrug. On the other side of the room, Y/N waits for a signal that never comes.

What the hell is he doing?

This was most definitely not one of the agreed topics for tonight’s show.

“How do you mean?” Mickie can’t help but inquire.

“I mean the obvious thing to say here would be to say that we’re close in age,” Oscar starts, gesturing. “But it really is more than that. I’m lucky to work with an immensely talented team, especially with all the fresh talent McLaren’s brought on board this year.”

“Of course.”

“But as for her in particular…” The blonde seems to think for a minute. “I think, that in order for someone to understand how we work, they’d have to understand how she works,” he muses.

“And how’s that?”

“She’s like the light you need in order to see. With her perspective, her input, the fundamental way in which she operates - things make sense. She makes things make sense, really - whether that’s logistically, or with the car, and especially with me.”

The words tumble out of his mouth before he can even know what he’s thinking. The tricky thing about this cozy lounge setup that he’s seated in is that, from her, it looks nothing like the studios and press conferences and media pens that they’re used to. Here, there are no clambering reporters, no flashing cameras, no microphones shoved in his face.

It’s easier to forget that the world is watching.

“It’s a bit unfortunate that the fans watching this don’t get to see her as we do,” he says with a serious expression. “Because it’s hard to describe her personality, or even just her role if you haven’t existed in her orbit. There’s this… this spark that ignites with everything she interacts with.”

Oscar finds himself thinking of everything that happened on the road so far, every step that led them here. All he knows for certain is that his confidence is not unfounded. Sure, things were… less than ideal at the moment, but they’d go back to normal. He knew they would, he was sure of it.

Not so much because Oscar had a plan, but rather because he didn’t know what to do if they didn’t. They’d figure it out - that was their thing, after all.

He’s disturbed from his thoughts by the voice of another.

“A spark?” the older man prompts with a smile.

It’s almost frustrating when the words don’t come fast enough to keep up with his mind.

“When you’re expected to function at the highest levels, there’s a lot of moving parts underneath the shiny cover that no one really tells you about. Y/N has this intuitive sense and this unlearnable skill to take apart the most challenging complexities and put them back together into something wonderful.”

The studio falls silent.

“She sounds lucky,” Mick offers sincerely.

Oscar laughs dryly. “The way I see it, I’m the lucky one. McLaren certainly is.”

Mickie’s expression is open, leaving the silence available for him to fill.

Oscar, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how they ended up here. Talking about Y/N wasn’t a preplanned part of the segment, but he doesn’t seem to mind. It’s surprisingly nice to talk about something besides how hot it is in the car or the rabbit food athletes have to eat or his opinions on the championship standings.

And it probably doesn’t hurt that talking about her is really quite easy.

“It’s an incredible gift to meet someone who complements each of your strengths and your weaknesses completely. And if that person happens to be someone who can somehow challenge you and support you simultaneously, then there’s nothing more that I need.”

The boom mic edges closer to the stage setup, careful not to enter the cameras’ parameters of visibility. There’s a shift in tone that’s apparent, something curious and authentic that seems to wash across the studio and everyone in it.

“Will we be seeing this dynamic duo in action anytime soon then?” the interviewer asks, charismatically guiding the conversation towards its conclusion.

“I sure hope so. Maybe you guys can finally convince her to do some of those McLaren challenges with us,” Oscar smiles widely, that dorky, lopsided smile of his. “Trust me, I tried, but somehow she won’t let me drive her around for a Hot Lap. Wonder why that is,” he shrugs, before both men share a laugh.

A hand in the dark silently signals for them to wrap up, indicating that the segment must come to an end.

“Well then, Oscar I see we’re being told to wrap,” he smiles, glancing over in the direction of the crew. Both men begin to go to stand up, extending their arms for a friendly handshake.

“Thank you so much for joining us once again. As always, it was a pleasure, and I know I speak for everyone here at Down Under Daily when I say that we can’t wait to see what the future has in store for you.”

Oscar nods, smiling, giving the man a firm handshake. “Thank you.”

Once the segment wraps up and the overhead lights come back on, the studio buzzes with the hum of activity. Uniformed crew members unpack and disassemble various machines and setups, beginning to clear out the studio. Oscar glances around, but his gaze keeps drifting back to Y/N, who stands a few feet away, chatting with one of the technicians. Her laughter cuts through the noise, bright and genuine, making something warm unfurl in his chest.

“Hey,” he calls out, a casual attempt to draw her attention. When she turns, their eyes lock, and for a moment, the world around them blurs. There’s something in her expression that sends a jolt through him, a flicker of recognition and a hint of something deeper.

“Hey,” she replies, her smile easy but layered, like they’re sharing some inside joke that only they understand. He shifts slightly, suddenly a bit squirmish under her undivided attention.

Not that he gets squirmish, of course. Oscar is the picture of cool and collected.

As her eyes scan him, she notes the slight flush of his skin, the way the muscles of his face are tense ever so slightly. It’s honestly a bit refreshing to see someone who isn’t always unfazed by it all, she thinks. She does her best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“That went well,” she comments, her voice carrying a lightness that contrasts with the tension simmering beneath the surface. It’s the kind of praise that makes him feel seen, but also a bit exposed.

“Thanks. Couldn’t have done it without you,” he responds, his tone sincere. Oscar isn’t one of those fools who thinks the whole orchestra runs around him. Even if it did, his mother didn’t raise him to be any bit unappreciative to everyone who works behind the scenes for his successes. He knows she’s more than just an assistant; she’s the one who keeps everything in motion, the anchor in the chaos.

Her gaze lingers on him, and for a moment, the air between them thickens. He’s acutely aware of the distance that’s very much there, yet it feels charged, like static before a storm. “I just do what I can,” she says softly, brushing a loose lock of hair behind her ear—an action so simple, yet watching it feels intimate.

Oscar looks away.

The moment stretches, and he senses a shift, a palpable tension that neither of them is ready to address. Memories of their almost-kiss hang between them, unacknowledged yet ever-present. He wonders if she feels it too, this strange blend of familiarity and hesitation.

The silence is uncomfortable in a familiar way, like the awkward pause that occurs when you can’t decide who should speak first. Oscar even opens his mouth to try to say something - though he’s not sure what - Y/N beats him to it.

“How’re you feeling?” she asks, her tone casual, but he detects a deeper curiosity behind her question.

“I guess just… figuring things out,” he replies, glancing down for a moment as he gathers his thoughts. There’s moments in the midst of the whirlwind of fame and fortune where it all truly feels surreal. Young Oscar always aspired to go fast, to push himself to the limit, to win, but this?

The spotlight, the admiration , the respect, the expectations? It was almost overwhelming, a heavy medal hanging around his neck that he’s still not used to wearing. Especially with the number of people that work day and night to give him a fighting chance at making his childhood dreams into reality, there’s no greater expectation than the one Oscar places on himself.

“Trying to get it right still, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, nodding, her eyes searching his. There’s an intensity in her gaze that makes his heart race, as if she’s peering into the part of him he keeps to himself. Briefly, he wonders if she can read his thoughts sometimes.

Like on one of those teleprompters they use for broadcasts and award shows.

He wants to say more, to delve into this strange thing swirling between them, but the words feel stuck, caught in a web. The awkwardness between them might as well be a loose screw in his car - keeping him at the edge of his seat as he navigates the clunkiness that replaces the flow he’s used to. “I keep waiting to get used to it, but it never seems to happen,” he says finally, hoping to keep the conversation light.

“True,” she agrees, her smile faint but genuine. “But you manage.”

“Most of the time,” he admits, letting out a soft laugh that feels half-hearted, both playful and tinged with something meaningful. Oscar may have grown into this suave, clever, mature personality that he’s recognized for, but there are times when he still feels like the lanky teen with the acne and the too-short hair that climbed into a Formula car that very first time.

As the crew clears the set, Y/N steps back, her focus shifting to the flurry of activity around them. Oscar feels the space between them widen, the moment suddenly dissipating like a whisk of smoke. He wants to reach out, to anchor her back to him, but the tide of reality keeps them away.

“Ready to head out?” she asks, her voice interrupting the stream 0f his personal thoughts.

“Yeah,” he replies, an uncharacteristic hesitation slipping into his tone. He can feel the warmth radiating off her, and the longing rises within him, a familiar ache that refuses to fade. He elects to ignore it, in favor of using long strides to catch up with her quick ones to follow her out into the hall.

Oscar steals a glance at Y/N, her profile illuminated by the fluorescent lights, and he wonders what it would be like to bridge that gap. He recalls what it had been like the last time he'd been in such proximity to her - felt the warmth of body, the coolness of her breath, the ghost of her lips. For now, though, he settles into the silence, allowing the moment to hang between them.

Y/N leans against the small counter in her hotel room, the yellow light from the lamp seeming to warm the place. She stares at her phone, buzzing with a handful of messages, but her mind is tangled in thoughts of today’s interview. Hearing him casually mention her, smiling as he spoke, had left her feeling a mix of pride and confusion.

As she pours herself a cup of hot tea, she replays the almost-kiss in her mind - the way his breath had caught for just a moment. It felt like a line had been crossed, but they hadn’t addressed it. It hung in the air between them like an uninvited guest, and the last thing she wanted was to ruin the good thing they had.

Her phone buzzes again, the sixth time in the last half hour. This time, however, the contact name reads: Oscar. “How’s your evening?”

“Trying to figure out the chaos that is my notes,” she replies, glancing down at loose pages, and spiral books that are splattered across the coffee table.

“You always have chaos in your notes. It’s part of your charm.” His teases, knowing full well that no matter how chaotic her notes were, they were somehow still always loads better than his hurried scrawl.

The tone of the conversation feels light, teasing, friendly - but she’d be lying if she said it didn’t feel like something more—an unspoken understanding that neither of them wants to acknowledge.

“Charm, huh? I prefer to think of it as organized chaos.” She takes a sip of the warm herbal tea, now having cooled down to the temperature of her liking. It’s grounding these little rituals - which reminds her that she still needs to change out of her work clothes, maybe shower and do some skincare…

“Sure, if that makes you feel better,” he replies easily. Even just reading the words, she can practically hear the laughter in his voice.

A moment later, he decides to add, “I was just about to put something on the TV. You in?”

In a hotel room just a ways down the hall, Oscar’s heart rate increases. What the hell are you doing? He chides himself. He feels stupid - things were already weird, and now he probably just made them even weirder.

Relax, he has to tell himself. This isn’t new - in fact, this is normal. Like before - friends, just relaxing together after a long day of work. Airplane games of monopoly, friday happy hours, movie nights - all of this was perfectly normal. Right?

Thumbs still hovering over her keyboard, she hesitates. The idea of sitting together, sharing popcorn and laughter, sounded nice, but there was the lingering possibility that things would be strange instead.

Instead she types out, “Maybe. What are you watching?”

She could use a night off, after all.

“Something mindless, one of those cable shows they have on this thing. You know, to balance all the brainpower we exert during the week.”

She had to admit, he did make it sound inviting.

“Mindless does sound good. I’ll join you.”Oscar props himself up a bit better, leaning back on his elbow. The smile on his face is lit up by the blue light of his phone screen as he reads her reply. Forcing himself out of the unexpectedly comfortable position he’d evolved into, he gets up, phone in hand, before starting to work to make his hotel room look a tad more presentable.

He was not having a repeat of this morning.

He types out a reply. “Great. I’ll set it up.”

There is a brief pause, and he wonders if he should clear the air, just in case. He really does just want to have a relaxing evening with her - it had been a long time since they last had the chance. Conjuring up some courage, he types out another message to her. “So, about the interview…”

Reading that, Y/N’s heart races. She didn’t want to overanalyze his words, but it was impossible not to. She decides to go for the safe answer. “You did well. Really.” So maybe he was just overthinking it. The praise lifts some of the weight off his chest.

“Thanks. Felt good to share some insights. And the part about you… well, it was true.”

Had he really meant all of it?

There’s a fluttering sensation in her stomach. “Just doing my job.”

“No, really. It means a lot to me. You’ve been here through so much of it.”

The sincerity of his words has her forgetting this tension for a moment, allowing it to slip into the back of her mind. They had a rhythm, a friendship built on shared experiences, but now it felt precarious.

“I just want you to succeed, Oscar,” she tells him, words honest. “That’s all.”

“And you’re doing your part brilliantly. I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you.”

His words hang in the air, thick with unspoken feelings. He’s said those same words a thousand times before, but for some reason, this one makes her heart skip. She shifts her weight, feeling the heat rise to her cheeks.

“So, movie?” she suggested, wanting to steer the conversation away before she can get too caught up in her own messy thoughts..

“Right. I’ll get it ready.”

Rustling the duvet to make it appear slightly less misshapen. One of his hands seeks the remote to see what’s on at this time, and tries to pick the most tolerable option. Happy with his choice, he stalk over to the other side of his room, the show in the background acting as welcome background noise.

He then pulls out two packets of microwaveable popcorn from the welcome basket that had greeted him when he checked into the room, popping each of them into the microwave so the snack would be warm by the time she arrived.

Y/N stands outside the door to Oscar’s hotel room, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. Sure, she could use her emergency key card, but she decides that knocking feels less criminal. She knocks, and immediately the door creaks back to reveal his familiar face. His hair is mussed up, loose locks flopping to one side or the other. Her eyes are fogging with sleep, but the smile he wears is warm and sweet.

“Hey! Look who made it,” Oscar teases, stepping aside to let her in.

“Thought I’d save you from another night of mediocre cable,” she replied, a playful smile on her lips.

She hopes it comes less nervous than she feels.

“Trust me, you’re in for a treat. It’s ‘Chef’s Disaster’ tonight. Guaranteed chaos,” he says, leading her to the couch.

When she glances at the television that’s playing, she finds scenes of various chefs - forgetting ingredients, leaving the stove on too high, accidentally dropping their dishes.

“Ah, the best kind of TV,” she laughs, settling in beside him. The pair of them end up on opposite sides of a generously-sized, two-seater couch. Her mind begins to whir, trying to figure out if she’s sitting too far, if it’s too late to scoot a bit closer, would that make things weirder? But when she looks over to Oscar, his relaxed figure sprawled across his side of the couch, the knot in her chest loosens a little. She allows herself to get more comfortable, curling up on her seat. Finally breathing a little bit easier, she allows herself to lean back against the cushioning.

The show flickers on, and they immediately fall into a comfortable rhythm. Y/N reaches for the bowl of popcorn he’d prepared, gathering a handful of pieces to then to slip into her mouth.

They watch as the chefs try to organize their chaos into something presentable, laughing as they watch one of the younger contestants put an unseasoned chicken into the oven.

What happened to salt? Pepper? Common sense?

In the darkness of the room, their faces are lit up only by the glow of the changing scenes flickering across the TV screen. With a subtly yawn, Oscar stretches his arms, before one coincidently drapes itself across the back of the couch, right behind Y/N’s shoulders. He can feel how her hair tickles the skin of his forearm, but it only makes him smile. He’d missed this - time together, the two of them. Life had a funny way of making people feel so close and so far all at once.

When she can’t help but giggle at someone who’d forgotten to put the lid on their blending before powering it on, Oscar can’t help but look at her.

Even at this awkward distance, even with her too far to touch - he feels lucky. He’d be happy to stay like this - to only hear her laugh instead of causing it, to watch her smile from the sidelines - just to get to be in her orbit at all.

He wonders if the world might stop spinning on its axis if that wasn’t the case.

His certainly would.

“Okay, chef,” Oscar said, nudging her. “What’s your go-to dish?”

Turning to glance at him, she can’t help but smile. Oscar’s smile is contagious like that, she supposes.

She hums, thinking over his question for a moment.

“Honestly? I make a pretty decent chicken alfredo. You’d be impressed,” she replied, a hint of pride in her voice.

“Pasta, huh? Fancy,” he teases, wiggling his eyebrows at her. His heart does a strange fluttery thing when she laughs. “The only thing I can make reliably is scrambled eggs,” he admits, chuckling.

“Hey, scrambled eggs are a classic! Hell, all the eggs I make end up scrambled. But you should branch out,” Y/N says with mock seriousness, raising an eyebrow. “Maybe I should give you cooking lessons sometime.”

“Deal,” he says, his tone shifting slightly. Raising his hands defensively, he adds, “But no promises on the outcome.”

As they watch the chefs struggle with absurd challenges, the initial awkwardness begins to fade. They exchange jokes about the contestants, their laughter echoing off the walls. They laugh until their stomachs hurt, adding in their own commentary until there are tears in their eyes and their cheeks hurt from laughing. “I actually hate you,” she wheezes, throwing her couch cushion at him. “My nonexistent abs hurt, you asshole. Can’t you be a little more considerate?”

He catches her projectile weapon with an exaggerated ‘oof’, defending himself. “I was just providing valuable insights, really.”

The silence that settles thereafter as they try to catch their breaths is comfortable in the way that graceful snowfall is - familiar and calming, peaceful.

“What’s the worst thing you’ve ever cooked?” he asks, turning to her.

Y/N has to hold back a giggle, recalling a memory. She can’t remember how long its been since she was able to let loose like this. “I once tried to make soufflé. I think by the time I was done with it, it fell under the legal definition of what the pros call, ‘hazardous materials.’”

Oscar bursts out laughing, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “That’s a tragedy! You should’ve brought it here as a surprise.”

“I’m sure. Next time, I’ll bring my ‘signature’ dish,” she replied, rolling her eyes playfully.

Tilting her head back, she lets her eyes slip closed for a second just basking in whatever this is. It’s difficult to think of the right word for it, but quite frankly, she doesn’t care. She just wants to bottle it up and keep it with her forever. Just as they start to find that comfortable groove, a sharp knock interrupts them. Immediately, they both lift their head to turn to look in the direction of the offending sound.

“You expecting someone?” Y/N asks, her heart sinking slightly. She tries to push the feeling away. “Who is it?”

“Probably someone who doesn’t know the meaning of ‘do not disturb,’” Oscar grumbles, shaking his head as he gets up to walk over to the door.

He stands up and walks toward the door, leaving Y/N to focus on the flickering screen. But her mind drifted back to the lingering tension between them, their easy banter feeling suddenly fragile.

She nervously fixes her hair, tucking the loose strands behind her ears. Making sure she looks professional enough - and not like they were sitting a mere centimeter apart - she turns toward the door. Finally, he slides the pin aside, unlocking the door as he pulls it back.

“Who is it?” she asks him quietly.

There’s a pause for a moment, before Lando’s familiar voice calls through. “It’s me,” he replies, and Oscar seems visibly annoyed. Lando peers over Oscar’s shoulder, noting Y/N perched on one of the couches in the room.

Good, both of them were here. That’d make this a bit easier.

“You need to see this,” Lando tells them, careful to keep his tone even. Oscar nods, stepping aside and opening the door wider to allow Lando in.

“Yeah, of course. Come on in,” she replies at the same time, making sure she looks presentable. Hopefully whatever Lando has to say will save her from whatever awkwardness was probably about to ensue.

Lando pushes into the room and instantly notices that the vibe is… something. It’s *very* obvious that he’s interrupted something, but he doesn’t comment on it.

Interesting. He files the information away for later.

Instead, he holds his phone out in front of him, a news article pulled up on the screen.

“What is it?” Oscar asks, his gaze flickering between Lando and the screen.

Lando points to the small picture in the article, and Oscar’s jaw clenches, the muscle on the side of his face visibly pulled tight. Lando observes his teammate’s reaction, before he looks over to meet Y/N’s eyes.

“You might want to read this,” he says gently, his voice low. “You’re mentioned in it.”

That doesn’t sound right.

“I- What?”

Lando briefly wonders what the likelihood is that the ground will physically swallow him whole. Or that he might turn invisible. Or anything that means he doesn’t have to explain this.

“I don’t-“ He cuts off, struggling to put his words together, sighing. “I don’t know how they got their information, but some of these details…”

Seeing Lando - normally smiley Lando - looking so painfully neutral despite the anxiety that flashes in his eyes, feels deeply unsettling. Like dark clouds at a wedding or an empty chair at a birthday party, seeing Lando like this feels ominous, wrong.

He hands her the phone, watching her as she takes it and begins to scan the text. Words and letters blend into a blur, her eyes reading through the article - speculation after speculation on her current health status and how she got hurt. It reads less like news and more like pure gossip tabloid rumors.

There’s an odd sinking in her chest, some muscle winding itself tighter and tighter.

She can’t stop reading it, standing eerily still. Hidden amongst this clear violation of the privacy she’s held sacred for so long are some very specific facts that only Oscar and a select few other people should be able to know and recognize.

“This is-“ she starts quietly, her breath hitching in her chest.

It’s quiet. “This is bad.”

Her eyes continue to scan the article, and her mouth goes dry. Even when she knows it’s all mostly bullshit, there’s still a part of her that feels a little violated, like there’s suddenly not enough oxygen in the room. This is her life - her past and her trauma put on display. The most traumatic years of her life suddenly available for the whole world to read about.

She reads it yet another time, uselessly hoping for something to change, for the words to transform or dissipate like the final wisps of a nightmare.

“One has to ask—can you really call it a "dream job" when it lands you in the ER? Y/N L/N is clearly in need of a reality check. Whispers from insiders paint the picture of a young woman entangled in a life of chaos, fueled by impulsive decisions and reckless relationships. Is she simply a victim of her surroundings, or is there a more troubling narrative at play? Recently, Y/N was hospitalized with troubling injuries: extensive bruising and a suspected concussion, allegedly the result of a wild night that spiraled out of control. Sources suggest her aggressive tendencies may have exacerbated the situation, raising alarms about her behavior and its implications for McLaren. As Y/N navigates her tumultuous life, her influence over rising star Oscar Piastri comes into question. McLaren must now confront the uncomfortable truth: her erratic behavior could endanger Piastri’s career and the team’s reputation. The last thing they need is a scandal, especially when they’re striving for excellence on and off the track. The team's efforts to sweep this under the rug hint at deeper issues within their camp. Insiders are growing increasingly concerned that Y/N’s instability could tarnish McLaren’s hard-earned image, especially as rumors circulate. As Y/N begins her recovery, the pressure mounts on McLaren to manage the fallout. Fans and sponsors alike are watching closely, and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Ultimately, the future for Y/N is uncertain. Will she take this opportunity to change her trajectory, or will she continue to spiral, jeopardizing not only her own future but also the stability of McLaren? The racing world waits with bated breath, knowing that every decision could have lasting consequences.”

Lando’s expression is sympathetic as he watches her pale. Something guilty settles in his gut - he knows he didn’t cause this, but he doesn’t know how to protect her from it either. Lando has always held loyalty so close to his chest - growing up famous at such a young age forces you to learn that lesson quickly.

It's easy, then, to understand why Lando is the way he is. He's known for his friendly personality - his charismatic charm and his easy laugh - but there are a select few which Lando considers his closest friends. Those are people he answers even in the middle of the night, the ones he’d fly across the world to be there for.

But Y/N is standing in front of him like the very ground has been pulled from beneath her feet and he can’t do a fucking thing.

“Um, it’s- it’s okay,” she stammers, voice shaky. She tucks her hair behind her ears again, but they were never loose in the first place. A fragile mask of calm slips over her face, a familiar trick she’s performed thousands of times before

“I can take care of this. I- I’ll take care of this.”

Her heart feels like it’s stuttering in her chest but she knows better than to show it. Taking a short breath, she whirls around to make a beeline for her office. She’ll need to make a few calls, send emails to various liaisons and communication personnel, maybe reach out to HR and PR too-

“Hey, hey, stop.” Oscar reaches out and gently wraps his fingers around his bicep, spinning her around gently to face him. His eyes are worried as he searches hers for something true. He’s seen her upset before, but now her face is pale in a way he’s never seen before.

“Oh, right,” she chuckles awkwardly, suddenly remembering. “Lando, your phone.”

She holds the phone with the article displayed on it for Lando to grab, but she eyes the device like it’s very presence is toxic. She chuckles, but the sound is high pitched and forced. “Sorry, almost forgot!”

Lando slowly takes his phone from her, his eyes flickering between his friends for a moment.

“No worries, s’fine,” he says carefully, his eyes not leaving her face. “Are you actually okay?” That’s a stupid question, you idiot.

“Me?” she asks, as if caught off guard. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine,” she answers, waving him off.

Oscars expression is stern, unconvinced - and he doesn’t bother to hide it.

“You seem a little, uh, upset,” he says delicately, his gaze flitting to her shaking hands. He immediately looks away, not wanting to draw any attention to it. He doesn’t want her to feel exposed.

“No it’s-” horrible, she wants to say. Instead, what comes out is, “It’s okay. I’m just trying to figure out what I need to do, that’s all.”

He hesitates, his brows furrowing at her attempts to downplay what’s happening.

“And your first thought is to go work?” he points out, a small hint of accusation in his tone.

It’s like she doesn’t even hear him.

“I’m going to fix this,” she tells him, giving both of them her most convincing smile, even as the corners of her mouth threaten to twitch downward.

Breathe.

And with that, she sees herself out of the room, already planning each action she needs to set into motion. She’s going to fix this.

a/n: thank you for reading this far! feedback means a lot to me. your likes, comments, reblogs, asks - that's the only way i can tell if you like the story so pls pls pls! all the feedback!!!

#formula 1 fic #saffu's works #formula 1 #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x assistant!reader #tw: abuse #tw: injuries

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fruityfroggy · 5 months

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Hot take: to me, Regulus’ 1.9 skin looks like Lilya dressed her, and I can’t unsee it

It’s so funny to me for some reason (but it’s also the cutest fckin alternate skin I’ve ever seen)

#1.9 spoilers #like does it not?#like I know that’s just what you wear in that type of setting but #the fit is so Lilya vibes to me that it’s funny in a way #reverse 1999 #r1999 #regulus reverse 1999 #lilya reverse 1999

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please-picturemeintheweeds · 4 months

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tw: abuse discussion, intimate partner violence, grooming discussion, power and control. Trying to be vague here and not fly too close to the muse Sun

Re: red tv and the manuscript discourse, I wonder if people realize that it is actually possible to have abusive/toxic/harmful relationships with people your own age, too? Like even if Taylor and jg were 2 years apart, harm still could’ve occurred….? Like it was obviously not grooming bc that is a very specific set of experiences usually involving a child and a person in a position of trust/power like a parent or teacher or coach etc (I know this bc I lived it!!!). But like… that is not the only kind of harm that can happen to young people???? Her youth/naivety was definitely a factor in how fucked up the situation was but it was not the only element. Power dynamics do not begin and end at age. Adults can fuck each other up, too…

#This is not a vague post I promise #I’m just in awe of some anons other blogs get about this #And I think what lots of people are calling “grooming” is actually what we call “love bombing”#training someone to ignore harmful behaviors by showering them with affection/praise/apologies after tension building and explosion phases #You wear your best apology type vibes #The last time #and that behavior often occurs without the love-bomber realizing they’re doing it #People who cause harm rarely set out to do it with evil in their hearts #But it can still be abusive #And that gets murky when the only perspective we take on harm is from the carceral system #Like oh but he didn’t mean it and he loved her and he didn’t force her so it obviously wasn’t abuse (not necessarily jg here! Generally)#but like the truth is that people do have real love for those they hurt. And they often do genuinely feel guilty and apologetic!#Doesn’t make it okay or excusable! And people should feel safe/empowered to leave but that can be Uh.. challenging #But yeah it is extremely clear to me what happened with jg and it is at best toxic as fuck and at worst… coercion and manipulation #Taylor has every right to be traumatized by that situation like it was Very Bad and lasted So Long and deeply influenced her self-image #“He said that because she was so wise beyond her years everything had been above board… she wasn’t sure” is all I need to know tbh #He knew exactly the ways that midnight rain and dear john had changed her and he used all of that to play The Good Guy #And used that to convince her to sleep with him repeatedly (off and on at his whim for years)#Like!!! Not good!!!#C #relationships #abuse #ipv #gbv #trauma #would’ve could’ve should’ve hours #The manuscript #all too well #dear john #jg

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sunbedo · 4 months

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Hey guys. gay rights

#i already made the sonic one a while bc yknow. kinnie stuff youve all seen my blog theme #but then i was wearing my Fearless Year of Shadow(tm) shirt along with it and my irl bff was like.#'why are you wearing a sonic bracelet with that shirt if you love shadow so much 🤨' *#(he doesnt know much about sth stuff but ive infodumped abt shadow and his backstory to him many times)#and i was like 😭😭 BECAUSE I DONT HAVW A SHADOW KANDI BUT I WANNA MAKE ONE. I WILL SOON #so. now i do!! taking my ad/derall on the weekends always make me want to make more kandi. its great!#and yknow what else it makes me want to do...... talk more on here >:3333 #me and my dad are gonna go to a local jazz festival this afternoon bc our jazz combo is playing at it!!#itll be fun. my dad said hes gonna get some food from this really good breakfast place on the way thwre #which is not the best part. the best part is outside the shop there is a wonderful kitty cat who hangs around the parking lot #bc hes owned by the ppl who own the bar right next door #its so great. everybody knows him (the cat) and loves him. the v/ape shop next door has a tip door set up for him even though the #bar owner ppl take care of him and take him to the vet nd stuff. my dad found a faceb/ook page somebody made for him #and apparently it just has pictures of ppl at the bar holding him. its so great and hilarious. this cat is so loved #by the v/ape shop people. by random people at this beachtown bar. by the breakfast shop people.#anyways uh. this post was abkut kandi wasnt it 😭😭😭 lol #cherry chortles #anyways the add/er/all also usually makes me want to look at and sort through my pkmn card collection. so imma do that #because my dads friend (and my friend too i guess! me and him exchange cat photos bc he has this adorable chunky cat named gremlin) that we #play bar trivia with on tuesdays (dw its not really even a bar. its mostly a restaurant) asked me abt my pokemon card collection #bc the final question was to put a few franchises (it was like. dora the ecplora and spide/rman etc. and pokemon) in order of revenue #and obvs pokemon was the top. bc of factors like the trading cards so thats how that came up #we didnt bet any of our points btw but we almost! got it right! the order was pk/mn dora spidamen friends (the tv seies) but we had spidman #as second. but we still won!! our team is on a two game winning streak!!! we always split the money so next week ill get another 8 dolla >:3 #wow i havent hit tag limit yert #lol. yall'll open the 'see all tags' thing and boom. do you love the color of the sky type shit 😭😭😭#sorry that sounds too much like aave. i (white baby) cant be sayin that #cherrys kandi #okay well i had a tag with a verse from the ultimarw showdown bc i didnt know what else to say #but with my kandi tag and these two tags i have hit tag limit. thank you folks ill be here all night

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that-was-anticlimactic · 2 years

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waiting for my period to start is literal terror like i can hear the metaphorical suspenseful music playing and feel nervous and can’t stop checking to see if he’s here and can’t stop thinking about when will it come? will i need to throw away any underwear this time? what if it comes in the middle of the night? should i just sleep on a towel?

#this post is really dramatic but i really hate my period so like it's okay methinks #sometimes you just have to be really dramatic about your period. you know. coping.#okay no look sometimes i throw underwear away that prolly doesn't Need to be thrown away but i have a weird thing with stains so if the #blood doesn't Completely come out - like if i can still see it - then i will never wear it again iuyghtfvdghyuiuytfgdw i hate stains SO MUCH #that's why i set aside specific underwear to wear when i'm on my period and that's the Only time i ever wear it #because they're black and like smaller than the usual underwear i wear so that way there's less fabric to bleed onto #i keep checking because i kNOW HE'S COMING my last one started dec thirtieth and it's always early #it was like five or six days early last month so i know he'll be here early this month ahhhhhhhhh #i just. hate being on my period lol i mean who likes it?#not to be dramatic on main but like. stop tormenting me and just come!!! why can't periods just have a scheduled date so you Know and like a #date that never changes pls and thank you or better yet how about no #periods whatsoever that sounds great omg typing these tags just made me remember why i felt so uncomfortable when i woke up the other day -#i had a dream about stains being all over all the sheets/surfaces i was sitting/laying on omg that's fricking it what the heck #ahem anyways #paul tag #tw periods

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arolesbianism · 4 months

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The amount of times I've started a new post and simply typed "Olivia Broussard" and then deleted it is frankly embarrassing I can't take this anymore can everyone I've ever met just start being obsessed with this sad divorced woman too

#rat rambles #oni posting #like goddddd she still makes me feel so crazy #its so hard to sell ppl on oni lore because its just like yes its abt two divorced women and yeah its told through work emails and #work logs along with a bunch of other unrelated work emails and logs which you should also read no they are not actually relevant to the #plot the vast majority of the time but you need to read them anyways or Ill cry rly hard #oh also some of the divorced women lore is hidden in object descriptions that you have to find in game yourself #and also the wikki is outdated as hell so theres also a shit ton of logs you can't read out of game #also the divorced women arent technically canonically divorced but shhhh doomed toxic yuri guys #can anyone hear me? is anyone there? Im losing it over here #Im kidding ofc Im not broken up abt no one I know getting into oni quite frankly I dont think itd be their thing #there's like what one person I know who I think would enjoy it? and even them Im dont think theyd get as into it as me #but it does kill me that no one makes oni fanart for non duplicant characters #I love dupes but I wanna see the scientist going thru shit I wanna see hcs man #like not just for olivia and jackie but for all of them #for example I hc that ada is the type of person who has a mad scientist laugh as their normal laugh #she also likes to mumble to herself as she works and had a tendency to monologue dramatically as she sets a project into motion #some of her coworkers find her kind of intimidating because of this but she is genuinely rly nice #oh I also hc that she wears glasses 👍#now tbf having any hcs for the scientists risky since theyre prone to be actively contradicted in the future but idc I wanna have fun

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gibbearish · 6 months

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eternal conflict between disliking christianity bc raised christian so wanting to stay away from anything involved with it vs wanting to reread the bible treating it as a fiction novel and examining the characters

#and also wanting to share my existing thoughts but not remembering enough of it to know if its at all accurate kandksndk #origibberish #i just find it really interesting to think abt how like.#the old testament god is a cruel and wrathful god with strict rules on how to live eat wear clothes interact with others #make buildings down to wood types and exact measurements‚ how much of your income to donate‚ on and on and on #but especially he required sacrifices‚ required blood #and then one day. one day he decides to see what its like for himself. he splinters off a piece of himself and crams it into a human husk #and sets it loose‚ lets it finally experience life from the perspective of its subjects‚ of the toys it made to worship it #and makes it experience death. experience hell. severs its connection from the whole for three long days.#and after it comes back. the rules change #to 'promise youll love me forever. promise youll never leave me. whatever youve done whatever youve said i dont care #ive already forgiven you just please please never leave me alone again'#idk

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reinemichele · 8 months

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youtube

[Trente carat, Reine Michèle] Even the reaper is within her grasp She is the queen— not a single person struggles against her They don't allow her to escape her cage A cunning girl— an old woman who danced with shadows She decorated a great many necks A showy courtisane— a queen covered in mud She cut off a great many necks A scene changing round and round, a vivid dream She won't allow you to escape until you've lost it

#erin talks #video #erin's music rec tag #today's was gonna be a stellar song but you know I found this cool ass diamond and I just felt compelled #actually I always wear necklaces that look like the reine michele but my current one broke as I was typing some cursed ass shit 💀#anyway there are other passages of the song I could use but thesis statement yknow #it's a japanese album named roman set in france what's not clicking!!!!#Youtube #sanhora

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screampied · 1 month

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❛ BON APPÉTIT, BABY! ❜ g. satoru

☆ sum. stupid ovulation week is approaching soon and out of nowhere, you get baby fever. you ask your sugar daddy for help but his version of ‘help’ is trying to get you pregnant.

wc. 5.1k

warnings. fem! reader, sugar daddy!gojo au, age gap (early twenties/early thirties), praise, dirty talk, mentions of pregnancy, implied multiple rounds, size kink, ōral (f! receiving), he makes out w your panties, overstim, major brēeding kink, nıpple play, spıt, impact play, petnames.

➤ sd! gojo masterlist.

fuck, these cramps never knew when to quit.

you were crawled up in a ball on the sofa, suffering in agonizing silence. you sigh, taking a brisk glance near the grandfather clock that sits beside satoru gojo, your sugar daddy’s glass cabinets. oh, you missed him. it’s been a few good months with him as his sugar baby and you felt like a princess—no, a queen. he’s showered you with many many praises, not just gifts but of course, that too. you’re so lonely in his mansion, but you wondered what he was doing right now. probably working, you knew how busy of a businessman he was, but you missed him. his smell, his presence, his petnames. whipping out your phone, you unlock it, skimming toward his contact. ‘toru’ with a pretty pink heart as his contact, you text him a sweet forward ‘miss you.’

not even seconds later, he replies, giving your message a heart. ‘Hi, sweetheart. i miss you too. being a good girl for me, yeah?’

with a pout, your eyes skim through his flirty words and you press the video call button. you couldn’t wait. . you needed to see him. satoru answers it, and as expected, he’s sat upright in his office. so handsome, his snowy white hair was ruffled yet neatly slicked back and parted. he wore the suit you picked out for him, the jet-black one with a tie that makes his pretty blue eyes pop. “hey you,” a raspy voice utters on the phone, and he’s snickering at how you’re just lazily slump on the couch, bored out of your damn skull. “put some clothes on, darlin’.”

“no,” you grump, although you did have clothes on. clothes that basically consisted of a thin sage tank top and panties. satoru was typing on his computer. you heard the quickness of his fingers typing away as he’s taking every few glances to look at you again. “come home, ‘toru. these cramps are killin’ me,” and you mumble the last part under your breath. “. . andiwantababy.”

it’s a long silent pause and he’s fully looking at you through the screen now. all that could be heard in the background was the screeching and beeps of his costly fax machine.

satoru’s got a glint in his eyes before his voice pitches, and he slyly hums. “oh, you want a baby, sweets? my, you really do need me ‘ta come home, huh.”

you squeeze your thighs together, positioning your phone to lie in landscape mode—you were still a bit sensitive from earlier, from touching yourself. as your breath excitingly hitches, you couldn’t help but pout again.

“ ‘toru, think ‘m havin’ baby fever or something,” and your words were oh so sweet. satoru’s sitting up against his chair, leaning up against his palm. the shine of his expensive g-shock glimmers in the light within each time he moves. “come home, please.”

“sweetheart,” he tsks, two white arched brows piercing together. he could never say no to you, he spoiled you so much . . not that he never minded either. you were his baby, and satoru playfully scoffs at your needy declaration. “you really can’t wait another hour? i’m almost done.”

“no,” you grouse, a cute glower stretching across your features, marinating as you speak. satoru chuckles at your bratty persistence, and you watch as he fixes his tie, lightly tugging on it.

“fine, fine,” he gruffs. “i’m coming, princess. wear that new designer set i bought for you, okay? ya know the one, the rose-gold?”

smearing your glossed lips against each other, you give him a nod. you ached for him, each second you spent on the phone was a constant reminder of how he wasn’t there with you. satoru found your clinginess adorable though. it was cute how you’d always text and call him while he’s at work. even if his responses were hours late, he’d always get back to you, sending you sweet ‘hi baby’ and ‘i miss you more, pretty,’ ‘s.

if you were feeling bold, you’d send him a few pictures of yourself in one of the many expensive custom-made sets of lingerie he buys you.

his favorite would have to be the ‘satoru gojo’ exclusive brand of lingerie for women, he literally bought the entire stock of all colors just for you.

“okay,” you mumble, already making your way toward his bedroom. a few of his servants and butlers were dusting away at furniture and his entire mansion was huge. it was spacey, you could practically get lost in it. as you stomp lightly, the bare soles of your feet slide against the glassy-textured floor before you glance down at your screen. “drive safe.”

“i will, sweets. see you soon, yeah?”

with a beep, the call ends and it’s just you trapped in your own silent thoughts.

as you made your way to the master bedroom, immediately, you’re met with the loud cologne scent of satoru. it’s enchanting, it’s always the same smell of cinnamon and spices. satoru gojo always smelled rich regardless. rich was his middle name. you dig through your walk-in closet he had made for you, fishing out the set he wanted to see you wear. it was dashingly pretty.

he bought the rose-gold set as a gift for your birthday, and even if it did hurt his pockets a lot, he never cared. anything for you—his pretty baby.

about forty minutes later, satoru returns home finally and he yawns, stretching his long limbs. you scurry to him, your head reaching just near the center of his chest and he lightly jerks back.

“hey baby,” he returns the hug, big callused hands roaming up and down your exposed skin. the lingerie fit you perfectly, displaying your curves and gorgeous physique. satoru buried his face into the crook of your neck, planting a soft kiss. “you’re so spoiled. i can’t always leave work jus’ because you miss me, y’know.”

“i know,” you let off a soft moan, his soft lips creating gingerly mushy traces everywhere near your skin. he was always so tender, nips of kisses slowly turning into flicks with his tongue. satoru’s left hand slowly snakes near your leg, raising it up before wrapping it around his slim torso. your ankle rubs against the burberry belt he wore. it clanks loudly and he then lifts you up. “s- satoru!”

“what?” he hums, leading you closer toward the bed.

you heard the playfulness in his tone, and he’s got you in such a firm grasp. his fingertips continue to roam down your soft skin, snagging against the laced fabric that wraps around your body like a christmas present. “god, you’re so hot,” he murmurs in a raspy tone, and you glance at his parted slick backed hair. it’s unkempt now, white strands and tresses running down his eyes. he lies you down on the bed gently, and that’s when he gets on top of you.

you gulp, meeting the eyes of satoru. pretty blue eyes, they’re always so mesmerizing to look at.

but this time, he’s got a more feral look in his pupils as they dilate. “sweetheart,” he whispers, using a thumb to caress the edge of your twitching lip. with the way you’re prettily sprawled all out like this for him at his very mercy, there’s so much he wanted to do. satoru’s eyes never leave yours, not for a single second. “do you really want a baby or is just the baby fever?”

“b- both,” you gasp, not even noticing his hand creeping down between your legs, parting them apart.

you moan, feeling his palm rub up against the outline of your panties. so soaked, satoru’s breath hitches at your sweet whimpers and he’s so close up to you. so close that his rock-hard boner presses up against you and fuck, it’s hard. a visible tinted bulge was sticking out the center of his slacks and it’s driving him mad.

the mental image of you with a swollen tummy, all plump and baring his child, it makes him groan. satoru’s had his fair share amount of sugar babies in the past, but none of them were you.

“such a silly little girl,” he huffs, a bit of humor in his tone. but not wanting to waste any time, he leans in, capturing your lips into a deep hungry kiss.

whiny moans pour into his mouth - he’s sweet.

the minty kind of sweet where you taste peppermint lingering on his tongue.

satoru kisses sloppy this time, gradually grinding his body against yours. it’s incredibly sloppy, not much passion and more-so filth—strings of spit tangle with each other, forming little lustrous cobwebs of saliva before he sucks on your tongue. his pretty white lashes flutter before he opens them, staring at you, grunting right in your mouth. his boner continues to rub off against your clothed pussy and his groans only grow louder.

“fuuuuckk,” he swears, smacks of lips ringing through his ears. it was something about you, he didn’t know what it was but you were addicting.

satoru starts to peel off the pieces of lingerie piece by piece. by peel, he’s carelessly tearing through it as if the entire designer set didn’t cost him an arm, a leg, and a fucking torso. but again, even with his pockets swollen and suffering because of you, he’d buy you the whole world if he could. well, he probably could. he’s satoru gojo. “sweets, ‘m gonna devour you.”

five words.

five words that constantly went on a loop in your head as satoru’s eating out your cunt like a starved man.

he was starved, it’s been hours since he’s seen you. as he’s delving his face right between the plush of your thighs. you moan, chomping the front row of your teeth down on your quivering bottom lip. fuck, he was just nasty.

merely seconds passed and he’s already slobbering over your pussy. strands and strands of glossy spit trickles from his lips and onto your folds. “ ‘toruuuu,” you whimper, relishing in the way his tongue curls all throughout your drooling core. he’s maneuvering all kinds of shapes and circles, even spelling all letters of his name on your cunt with his tongue. scarlet plump lips of his gently kiss near your labia whilst warm breath ghosts near your sappy slit. shaking all from his tongue, the bed grows rickety from your movements and you inhale a sharp breath.

your fingers get intertwined between his white locks of hair and you pull tight.

his head tugs forward into you and he grunts, swaying his slick pink muscle in and out of your cunt. “mngh,” he groans, and that’s when he sneaks a hand between your pried open legs.

you stare down at him as he’s devouring you whole, slurping everything out of you until he’s satisfied - and that won’t be for a good while.

it doesn’t take a while before he’s already completely pussy drunk.

satoru’s fingers slither near your pussy and as his flat tongue repeats to lap lap lap up your syrupy sweet juices, he pops inside a single finger.

an exasperated breathy gasp snatches straight out the back of throat before you immediately feel the mouthwatering stretch of his digits and it’s toe curling.

if it was one thing about satoru, his fingers were long, slender, and also very very thick.

with a single swirl motion he’s making with his finger shoved deep inside, you’re already at the verge of breaking. crumbling because of his sloppy tongue. his fingers could stretch you out just as much as his cock could.

satoru even had you keep your panties on for him. the same panties he bought you as a gift.

a gift where he collaborated with victoria’s secret, your panties had both of his infamous initials bedazzled on the front and back. god, every time he traces his tongue over the tiny little beads, it drives him crazy every time.

you drive him crazy.

his flat laid tongue teasingly licks at the silk fabric before it turns into a whole raunchy make out sesh. pretty white lashes flap as he’s slurping everything out of you, missing no spot.

he couldn’t afford to, not when you tasted this good.

“we’re a ‘lil squirmy today, huh,” he snickers, feeling your weak thighs writhe because of his tongue.

it felt so good, the way he’s casually slurping you, eating your pussy as if it was the last thing to devour on earth. such raunchy sloshing sloshes cry out from your cunt and he groans. your fingers remain tangled in his hair, yanking on his messy tresses before he flicks his tongue against that spot.

it’s soft and spongy, and with the help of his long fingers curling and scissoring in and out of your sopping pussy, you let off a candied three-second shriek. “oh, darlin. found it, did i?”

“fuck, ‘toru,” your body falls back against the silk pillows.

multiple wanton whimpers slither from your lips as he’s continuously toying his tongue against your g-spot. it seemed as if his tongue was helping with your cramps entirely. such pressure builds up in your body and you were just so hot that you felt like you were gonna explode. “gonna cum, fuck fuck.” you’re babbling out pathetic cries that fall deaf to his pointed ears. satoru hums in smug amusement, jaw feeling tight and locking but he doesn’t care.

he was feeling pretty exhausted from coming back from work but just a single taste of your pussy and suddenly, he was energized once again.

ironic.

his two fingers continue to swivel around inside your gripping walls as your body slumps into the mattress in lewd defeat. satoru grunts, grinding his boner against the edge of the bed to calm himself but you made it so hard.

you made him hard.

as he’s luxuriating in this eagle view of your legs prettily laid up for him, he’s merely knuckles deep.

you can barely stay still and the bed’s staring to grow rickety. satoru’s speed of his tongue doesn’t falters, and as he’s slurping every drop from your sappy folds—you let out your final elongated moan. it’s long, your legs erupt dramatically and shake within his hold before you’re finally cumming. it drags for a long time and you’re just nothing but hysterical.

overwrought with emotions and pleasure, your legs finally collapse—as if they weren’t already basically limp, you exhale deeply.

“fuck, fuck fuuuck,” you repeat, watching with hazy murky eyes as he pulls your panties back toward the center with his teeth. satoru licks up your sweet saccharine-flavored juices that seep out from you, savoring the honeyed taste on his tongue before you pull on his hair . . hard.

“tsk. watch the hair, girl,” he warns you, still being cheeky and playful.

your cunt embarrassingly twitches once he makes eye contact with you again. satoru sits up, his entire chin coated with nothing but your slit. its a stream of it and it’s pretty. it was just the way it trickles down and he laps the crevices of his lips with his tongue. “so cute,” he murmurs, and he closes the gap between you both. as satoru feels your trembly legs wrap around his waist, he pulls you into another deep passionate kiss.

you moan right into his mouth, lazily tossing your arms over his broad-built shoulders before feeling him yank your panties down your legs and ankles.

satoru’s body was hot.

he still had his business attire on, and he feels your hand slowly removing his tie. your other hand runs down his tux, sliding inside the center to feel his washboard chiseled and hiding underneath the piles of formal work clothes.

“such a needy ‘lil thing,” he whispers gruffly between kisses, chuckling once he sees the forming pout tweak against your swollen lips.

satoru rubs a thumb over you lip before his crystalline-colored irises meet yours. the silence was cold, he’s got a wolffish smirk compressing against his lips before he mutters right near your ear. “now, let’s give ya that baby, sweetheart.”

saying ‘baby’ was an understatement.

with the way satoru was about to fuck you, he planned on giving you triplets.

maybe even more, and the constant rambles of how little ‘ole you was stuck in his mansion all day with baby fever did something to him. oh, poor thing, suffering with cramps all day. it was the end of the world. to you at least it was. but like the loving sugar daddy he was, satoru figured he’d do his best to ease your little ‘problems.’

“gimme that pretty arch, goooood..” he purrs, using a hand to rub down your exposed back.

satoru groans—his formal trousers / pants were pulled down to his ankles and he’s staring at your pretty ass. so cute. he watches with a carnal glint in his eye as you position yourself, gnawing on your lip and the bars of your enclosure. the anticipation was about to bury you six feet under.

his leaky tip slowly smears and bedaubs against your dripping clit and you whine. your hands, clammy and all, roughly grip onto the richly-made sheets.

his tip was fat, it’s got a glistening swollen head that’s teasing you. satoru’s breathing grows shallow once he sees your pussy cutely trying to swallow. “fuck, please,” you croak, desperate for him to go inside. he always does this—everytime.

right before he’s preparing himself to fuck you raw, satoru smacks his bulbous cockhead against your sappy weeping folds, hearing your sweet little cries grow unsatisfied. all you could think about was having him breed you full . . over and over and over again, you didn’t just want it, you needed it.

you needed him.

“relaaaax, sweet thing. ‘m comin,” a chortle dies from his throat as he feels you trying to wriggle your hips.

you’re impatient, and once he’s fully aligned, he’s finally dipping his weighty cock inside your perfectly tucked folds.

suddenly, your needy whines stop and they turn into whines of rapture. satoru trails a big hand toward the cusps of your ass, tracing down the cute curvy curvature of your body before your skin’s met with a rude swat.

you moan as he’s easing himself inside your gummy walls, stretching you open even more than his fingers did. “atta fuckin’ girl. let me in, biiiiiig stretch, there we go.”

the stretch . . you’d never get used to it, never.

your stomach heaves once he’s reeling his hips in. “s- shit,” you kiss your teeth, your knees already buckling and becoming weak. satoru spanks your bare ass again just to hear those sweet yelps leave your lips. he’s so fucking big, it doesn’t take long before he’s bottoming out and you hear the welcoming ‘pop’. satoru groans once he starts to move, one hand holding onto your hip—another focused on your pretty perked ass. he likes this view, the view of his sweet girl arched over on all fours. satoru bites his lip as he starts to make delicious haste with his sharp keen hips.

“god,” his head throws itself back briefly at a certain angle.

already, white strands stick to his forehead with the help of his sweat substituting as glue. satoru’s voice shakes as his cock’s fully in, your clingy gripping walls were so warm and it makes his mouth water from the inside. “missed my favorite pussy so fuckin’ bad, so bad,” and you feel a few droplets plop down your back. satoru’s eyes rove over, watching you writhe again and he sheepishly snickers.

he was drooling.

“heh, sorry.” and he wipes his mouth with his wrist, the feral feeling pooling in his gut never fading.

you’re a mess underneath him, the second he starts to drill his hips into you—it’s over.

satoru’s stamina was always unhinged.

the bed croaks and groans from the constant shakes ‘n creaks it has to endure each second. the hinges were quite loud, you heard the rusty creaking wood that reverbs throughout the room. his cock continued to pound into you as his body’s on top of yours, in full sync with your own sloppy movement.

you’re whimpering, your head already being smushed against the pillow as the undersides of his thigh start to feel minuscule pangs. “toru, toruuu,” you mewl out in a melodic whisper. he’s hitting you deep, your glossed lips part into a circle before you huff.

each strike of his hips felt more precise and brutal. . you wanted more, you wanted to feel him more.

“i know, i know,” he coos, thumbs circling around your waist as he holds you in place.

satoru’s hips were so sculptured and sharp that they give you whiplash every time. he’s got such power within each salacious strike that it makes your head spin. every single stroke, you’re left stupid and speechless with your tongue already dangling out of your mouth. the room grew steamy within a span of a few minutes. it smells like nothing but pure passionate sex.

by now, your eyes were rolling toward the very backs of your sockets in utter elated pleasure. you’re seeing nothing but splashes of ivory black and white. “aht aht. c’mere, don’t fuckin’ run sweetheart,” his voice was as smooth as silk. satoru feels your unsteady hips trying to crawl away but he reels you back in. “nuh uh. take it, take it, take it, girl.” he groans, his heavy hanging balls thwacking right against your ass within each pivotal thrust.

the band of his platinum-colored watch rubs off against your skin again—he’s watching you jerk back against him. his cock was so full, he licks his lips at the thought of your pretty pussy and how you were gonna wring him dry like you always do.

“fuck me, fuck me ‘toru,” your whimpering words were repeating itself over and over as if you were a broken record. the pit of your stomach coils as each second draws itself out before he’s grunting gruffly. your cunt’s sloppy, coating his base with sheeny amounts and globs of slick. white hairs from his neat pubes stick against his skin and satoru’s now grinding into you. “ah, right there, ngh please.”

“thaaaaat’s it pretty girl,” he snarls in a raspy voice, feeling the fat smacking stings of your ass jolt backward into his pelvis. “fuck me right back, mhm. gimme this pussy, make me proud baby.”

as he’s whispering all sorts of praises and dirty words, you can feel yourself reaching your limit soon — it’s so close.

a fluttering sensation brews up inside your stomach before satoru suddenly groans. “fuck,” his cock’s wholly stretching you out to your elastic limit before it meets that same textured spongey barrier again. he knows right away because your knees buckle, your breath grows quicker, and you let off another surprised shriek.

right there, x marks the spot after all and he was constantly hitting his tip there until you let out cute shrilling screams.

“goddamn, ‘m gonna cum, sweets,” and his voice grows more shakier the longer he’s inside.

it’s as if time stood still.

the constant rotation of swiveling gyrations from each angle, each body has your head spinning like a merri-go-‘round.

you were probably looking a dumb cock-drunk mess. unkempt strands of hair were already flopping down your face and occluding your view of vision entirely. satoru pierces his white brows together before lightly shoving you further into the mattress. as you’re cutely arched forward with your ass raised up, he leans way into your back, wrapping a hand softly around the back your throat.

“gonna fuckin’ give ya twins. one isn’t enough, pretty girl. need that tummy swollen ‘n plump s- so bad,” and he inches his lips toward your spine, still pumping into you deep. “gonna make you my pretty ‘lil mama.”

as he continued to spoke, you whine as his cock plummets into your wet sopping cunt over and over. it’s to the point where your ears recognize the slapping sounds of skin. the squelches your wet cunt made had him groaning.

he’s breathing in huge chunks of air as he’s merely crushing you with his weight. as you both robustly rut into each other in flawless unison, satoru’s hefty weight that hovers over you anchors into yours, slamming further into you.

“fuck, don’t stop, hngh,” and your words were as shaky as your chattering teeth.

he couldn’t keep his hands off you, literally.

sweaty open palms paw at every part of your body. near your doughy tits, your ass—his favorite part, and even your pretty plush thighs that were nearly gluing together. “satoru, satoru, pleaseee.”

“mhm, sweets..” his voice tremors and cracks before a sharp gasp wretches out of him. out of nowhere, you feel his hips come to an abrupt stop and he groans loudly.

it’s so loud that it’s an almost bellowing roar, both of his ears clank at the blissful sensations. satoru grows quiet once he feels it, that familiar pressure that’s been stored full inside him for the longest.

he’s cumming, and it’s so much, a slimy knot shoots out and freely dribbles into your inviting swollen cunt and he chews the inside of his cheek. “fuck m- me,” he stammers, still holding both sides of your rickety hips.

the room’s filled with husky pants and skin slapping until he’s slowing down - velvety stringy ribbons spurt into you raw until he’s hoarsely panting like a dog at the sight.

he can’t stop staring. such a mess, but you’re his mess. god, the way it just leisurely trickles inside of you, spilling all down the sides of your jittery folds because it can’t keep all of it in. the sounds were even more filthy, sloshing squeaks feels the room and he goes quiet just to get a good enough listen. satoru came so much—so so much that it lasted for a plethora of long obscene seconds. as he’s trying to get over his orgasm, he’s still chewing at the inside of his cheek, his face growing flustered. his hips become strikingly sloppy and he’s basically humping you. “god, have my fuckin’ kids, sweetheart. ugh,” and satoru’s as prettiest as he’s ever been.

with his lip dragging from his teeth biting near the bottom, his eyes scrunch shut and white brows curl up. huffing out a big deep exhale, he’s sweating bullets.

his thick calves felt like they were on fire but he didn’t have enough of you yet. there was never enough of you. you had him whipped—he’s allowing you to milk him, relishing in the fact that your sweet cunt was just wringing him dry to the max.

satoru steadies your hips with his quavery hands, peering down at the masses of sweltering hot cum that drips down your legs and he grunts. “s- satoru,” you shiver, gasping once he pulls out only to flip you right over.

“not done. still got so much more ‘ta give my pretty girl,” he breathes, and it’s a feral look in his eyes. satoru raises your leg up slowly, his rings tickling against your bare skin. “lie on your back. i fuckin’ need more.”

satoru fucks you for hours.

any position you could even think of, he’s doing it.

both stacked bodies glisten with sheets of sweat as they rut back and forth against each other, fingers merrily intertwined. he’s determined to get you pregnant and your moans only fuel him. the rowdy snaps of his vigorous hips only grew stronger.

his stamina, you’re blinking, wondering if he’s even human. despite the drops of perspiration tearing from the sides of his face and his heaving long breaths, satoru showed no signs of fatigue.

he was drilling his thick cock into you again and again—giving you orgasm after orgasm.

your toes curl as you’re trying to keep up with him but it’s to no avail. weighty balls continue to rigorously slam into your core as you’re currently in mating press. the compressing weight of satoru melting against you makes you whine.

he’s so warm, and with the way he’s breathing down your neck, babbling how he’s gonna make you the most prettiest mommy in the world makes your cunt throb. “you’re so pretty like this,” he moans into your neck, his thrusts becoming weak yet again.

globs of cum dribble from your pussy as he’s right between your thighs, his cock springing up. he hisses at the feeling, feeling your arms wrap around his back. satoru groans at the twinge near his extensor muscles that flex.

you gave him scratches that ran all down his back. he pays for your weekly manicures just so you can paint his back with scratches with your pretty acrylics.

his pretty girl.

you’re a stammering mess, plugged all the way up with such creamy thin ropes and your body was already limp. with his dick still delved inside, satoru grabs your chin—pressing another kiss against your lips. you moan, twisting and tangling your balmy hot tongue with his before he presses a hand down on your tummy. you whine in his mouth, skimming your crumped up fingers down his little undercut.

satoru groans at the feeling of your digits toying with the back part of his hair. “s- satoru,” you speak between kisses in short gasps for air. your ankle brushes up and down his back and it makes him grunt - your touch made him weak. “ ‘m so full, fuck.”

“yeah you fuckin’ are, sweetheart,” he licks near your bottom lip.

satoru’s body was so hot against yours, even while he was fully milked out he was still stuffing you full. the sheets were a mess, but he didn’t care in the slightest. his cerulean-blue eyes rove down towards your chest before he leans down. you stare at him, panting—and that’s when he latches his tongue against your neglected tits.

so perfect,

he makes sure to lather viscous strings of saliva on both of them, including your sensitive perky nipples. “mhm.” he groans, feeling your fingers fish through his white tangled strands. he’s sucking on each of your breasts with the most stupidest pussy drunken grin.

after a few seconds, he removes his spit-slick lips, a string of saliva following before he gazes up at you. with a sly worn out gaze, he cups both of your tits with his hands, giving them a good squeeze. “aw. my girls are gonna be full of milk soon,” and satoru kisses near your chin, your forehead, your cheek, and then finally, your lips.

you return the wet sultry kiss before he abruptly pulls away, holding your chin. “can’t wait to be a daddy, darlin,” he says in a gruff drowsy voice. you watch as he gradually pulls out, moving his head down toward your bare tummy. satoru presses a kiss near your navel before his eyes stare right back up at you.

“now let’s wait for this pretty ‘lil bump, hm?”

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fangirl-dot-com · 4 months

Text

🧠Fake Amnesia

*part of the reverse trope series*

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fan!Reader Genre: Fluff/Humor/SMAU Summary: There was a saying that if you knew a celebrity existed, your chances of meeting them out and about decreased significantly. Is it true? No clue. But, you weren't about to let that stop you from finding Lando Norris in Imola.

*I am so so sorry for the very late and delayed chapter. I hope you all like it! I switched out this one to write it before the next as "Love Triangle" was supposed to come out first, but we've had a lot of Lestappen for now! But here we go!"

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

Were you a bit stupid?

Yes. Yes you were. Did you more money than your budget allowed just to get to Imola a few days early to possibly not even find Lando? You didn’t want to talk about it.

But right now as you perused through the local shopping area, you didn’t take the time to really dwell on your past choices. Only finding Lando could save you now. Which that seemed like a faraway dream.

Whatever that one reddit post said about having a higher chance of meeting a celebrity if you didn’t know them was absolute bullshit. You couldn’t go back in time to stop yourself from liking a thirst trap of Lando on TikTok. And now because of that, your chances of meeting the British driver seriously decreased.

How on earth were you supposed to find one of the most popular men alive, on a race weekend, where everyone was already looking to spot the driver in a more relaxed setting? You had no clue. But the shopping center felt like a good idea.

You had been drawn in by one of the jewelry sections, eyes glazing over the number of zeros that followed every first number. Your heart winced at the thought of even buying one. To be honest, you didn’t even know how you got into this mall in the first place. Everyone around you was dressed in the highest European fashion.

Your outfit wasn’t terrible per say, but it didn’t reflect the Italian area either. You were wearing some cream baggy linen pants that matched the light orange top that you had thrown on after scrambling to find a shirt. You didn’t really know exactly what shirt you were wearing, except that it was comfortable and went well with the pants. The giant number 4 on the back went completely unnoticed. Sandals adorned your feet and sunglass sat as though a crown on your head. Your cross-body bag dangled a bit against your side.

You had just cringed once again at a price tag when your eyes landed on some brown curly hair. Your eyes followed the coils down to the face and you wanted to scream (but held it in because you were not about to get kicked out).

There was no way that Lando Norris was standing about 10 feet away from you.

There was no way.

Except your hands automatically opened your phone and the twitter app popped up. You were too busy looking down at your phone, fingers moving at the speed of light, to notice that some hazel eyes had landed on your figure.

Lando, on the other hand, wanted to sigh. Could he go one day without having to get stopped by fans? The giant 4 on your shirt seemed to mock him. Internally, he was wishing that the girl was a Max or Charles fan.

But, he was going to be the bigger person and approach the nice looking girl before she could bring more attention to him. He decreased the space between them and tapped her shoulder, getting her attention.

You were not expecting a tap on the shoulder. And you were definitely not expecting that tap to come from Lando Norris’s finger.

“Can I sign something for you?” he asked. The sound of his voice must have put some type of spell on you since you felt as though you couldn’t speak.

Lando huffed. “Please? I don’t need other people finding out that I’m here and then I’ll have to leave.”

You blinked twice at him before you finally found your voice. “I’m sorry. Who are you exactly?”

Stupid reddit post.

The McLaren driver wanted to smack himself. Were you a fan? Or maybe you were wearing a papaya colored shirt that supported another person, who happened to have the same number? Or maybe if was your friend’s shirt? Or one you thrifted?

He winced. “I am so sorry. I thought. . . ”

You shifted on your feet, brain trying to come up with an idea for what happens next. You were standing in front of thee Lando Norris. You couldn’t miss this opportunity.

Lando watched your eyes widen and he wanted to hide. Maybe you were just shocked that it was him?

Your eyes then squinted. “You look really familiar. Oh, I know where you’re from.”

The Briton wanted to run and hide. This was it, you were going to start squealing, and then other people will look that way, see Lando, cause a giant crowd, and then he wouldn’t be able to do anything for the rest of the weekend.

He was doomed.

“You’re that actor right? From Spiderman.”

This time, Lando blinked while staying silent.

“No, I believe that’s Tom Holland.”

“Oh.”

Now it was getting awkward with the two of you just looking at each other. Which, this gave you the perfect opportunity to memorize the different shades of blue, green, and brown in his eyes. You looked to the side and chewed on you bottom lip.

Lando looked stuck.

“I am so sorry for interrupting your shopping,” he started out.

You waved your hands, trying to act nonchalant. “It’s fine. Wasn’t like I could buy anything here. Way too many zeros for my liking.”

Lando giggled at that and you internally melted.

Time to add “got Lando Norris to giggle like a schoolgirl” on your resume.

“Yeah. Bit too posh for me as well.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Really? You look like you fit in a bit more than I do.”

He rolled his eyes before huffing. “I’d rather spend time playing video games at my house instead.”

Now this is what you could get behind. When you first started following Lando, gaming started to interest you. Because of him, you were able to meet a bunch of friends through gaming. Your notifications were specifically set up to let you know when Lando was streaming.

Your eyes lit up with some excitement, which Lando thought was adorable.

“I like to game too! It’s fun playing weird simulator games. Me and my friends tried this goat game one time and we couldn’t stop laughing.”

This time, Lando’s eyes sparkled.

“I’ve played goat simulator too with my friends! Charles . . .” he caught himself, not wanting to give out more names. “Uh my friends Carl, Alec, and Jord really liked it during the pandemic. And then we got Dax in on it too.”

You wanted to absolutely start laughing, since you actually watched that stream live back in 2020. The cute names he gave to Charles, Alex, George, and Max were adorable. Your friends, although knowing you were watching the stream, had sent you the link and asked if you’d want to play the same simulator. Let’s just say, your laugh rivaled teapot-Charles.

“They sound like fun,” you said, a warm tone in your voice that had Lando melting like chocolate under a hot summer’s sun.

There was a bit of silence before Lando spoke up again. “Do you maybe, this sounds so weird, but there’s a game store farther down, would you want to join me?”

There was no way in hell that you’d tell him no.

You smiled up at him. “Sure! Lead the way! By the way, I’m Y/n.”

Lando went to say something but stopped. You could tell he almost said his name, and you’d bet money on the name that was about to come out of his mouth.

“I’m Bob.”

Bingo.

You snorted. “You don’t look like a Bob. But what would I know?”

The two of you laughed as you started walking farther into the shopping center. You exchanged laughs here and there, sharing stories about your lives with Lando being very vague about his day job.

“I work as an Uber driver,” he had said after you confessed that you were now working as a part-time gamer and then part-time relator. The work was hard, but that job allowed you to spend your hard-earned money on fun things like: coming to Imola early to try to find Lando.

Low-and-behold, you did.

Spending the afternoon with him felt so comfortable, as if you had known each other your entire lives. And Lando, to his surprise, felt the same. After the gaming store, he even invited you to lunch.

“You know you don’t have to do that,” you told him, but kept stride alongside him as he walked toward the small restaurants.

He shrugged. “I know. But I like spending time with you.”

A deep blush formed on your face as you kept walking. The bright red caused Lando to smirk just a bit.

As you ate and made conversation, you suddenly felt the urge to use the bathroom. You quickly excused yourself and left, leaving Lando at the table along.

He hadn’t meant to look, but your phone kept going off and his eyes just barely looked at your screen. They widened with he noticed his exact points in the season along with McLaren’s and the race schedule. And the picture of him from Miami after his first win as your lockscreen.

The Box-Box app.

He pursed his lips for a moment, briefly feeling played. But as he sat and thought about the past few hours that he spent with you, he felt content. At any point, you could have screamed his name, asked for a picture, and ruin his shopping trip. You could have tweeted his location and hordes of people would have shown up.

But you didn’t.

The McLaren driver was so caught up in his head that he didn’t heard you coming. Thankfully, your screen had gone dark, still giving the effect that you “didn’t know” who he really way.

“Everything ok Bob?” you asked as you sat back down, stealing one of his French fries from his tray.

Lando shook his head, ridding the “betrayal” from his thoughts.

“Just perfect. Trying to figure out who might win the Formula 1 race this weekend.”

He wanted to smirk at you froze for just a second before leaning back just a bit, arms crossed over your chest.

“What is that? Some type of NASCAR thing?”

Oh, so you knew how to play.

Luckily for Lando, so did he.

“It’s a bit different,” he said as he took a sip of his drink.

You were internally freaking out.

Did he know? If he knew then he might say something. And then he’ll call his security team and get you a ban from the paddock. And you might even go to jail for stalking. Could you even go to Italian jail for that? You didn’t know and didn’t want to find out.

However, Lando kept silent as the two of you finished your lunches. Easy conversation did flow once again when you steered it back to gaming. You had a giant smile as the two of you walked out of the shopping area.

However, your heart dropped when you realized that the time with the Briton was coming to a quick end. Lando was feeling the same.

You let out a sigh as you turned to look him in the eyes. “Thank you for today. I had a lot of fun! Like I said, you didn’t have to.”

Lando scoffed. “Of course I did. I interrupted your shopping. It was the least I could do.”

There was a lingering silence before you broke it.

“I guess this is the end then Bob.” You held out a hand for him to shake, but he rolled his eyes and brought you into a hug. You parted after a bit and started to walk toward the little Fiat you had rented for the weekend.

Lando felt torn until he realized he could definitely see you again.

“Y/n! Wait!”

You turned around to see Lando running up to you, phone out.

“Can I have your number?”

Yep, this is how you were going to die. Y/n L/n found dead in a parking lot after Lando Norris asked for her number. What an amazing way to go out in the end.

You didn’t say anything, but quickly opened your phone and handed it to him, new contact ready to be filled out. The driver was smirking to himself as he filled out his information. He handed your phone back to you, only to lean down and kiss your cheek.

The familiar bright red once again filled them in as he leaned back.

“I had a lot of fun today. Maybe I’ll see you soon?” he quietly said as he started to walk away.

“Maybe,” you said back, biting your bottom lip after.

Lando swore that if the two of you weren’t in the parking lot, he’d bite it for you.

When he was a bit away, he turned back and waved at you, happy to see that you were still staring at him. But who wouldn’t stare at Lando Norris though. Definitely not you, you could stare all day long if you could.

“Bye Y/n!”

“Bye Lando!”

Your hands clapped over your mouth as you watched him lean back in a full laugh. You even had him hunching over in a fit of giggles. You still watched as his shoulders shake as he got into what looked to be an Uber.

Your phone buzzed, causing you to look down at it. There was an email and a text message. One from McLaren and one from “Lando 🧡”

“Maybe next time I can sign your shirt. I think it’s cute that you follow my points :)”

You turned around quickly, trying to see the back of your shirt in the reflection of your rental car. There it was, in all it’s glory.

The giant-ass “4.”

“Shit.”

y/n_l/n has posted

y/n_y/n kinda confused about 20 guys driving around in circles. someone know what this is called?

also ran into this really cute guy. says he drives for a living. didn't know uber drivers could be hot

liked by friend1, bestie, landonorris, maxverstappen1, and 3,204 others

friend1 ayo is that the guy that you will not shut up about?

landonorris awww you don't shut up about me??

y/n_l/n STOP EXPOSING ME

bestie ok I see the appeal, can you ask someone for that brunet in the red's number??

maxverstappen1 🤺🤺🤺

y/n_l/n i think he's taken

charles_leclerc I am??

maxverstappen1 ☹️

charles_leclerc I AM TAKEN

friend2 so luckyyyyyyy

friend4 glad you had fun!

oscarpiastri I think it's called Formula 1

y/n_l/n finally someone who knows something @.landonorris you've been replaced

landonorris osc, we've talked about this

fan1 what the heck is going on

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @myxticmoon @cherry-piee @blueberry64857959 @glitterquadricorn @lizzypiastri @sam-is-lost @spilled-coffee-cup @ilove-tswizzle @the-untamed-soul @allenajade-ite @starssfall @torchbearerkyle @judespoision @halfdeadsage @juniper-july19 @severewobblerlightdragon @thatgirlmj @gods-menace @ineedafictionalman @namgification @dark-night-sky-99 @samantha-chicago @2pagenumb @treehouse-mouse @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @kagatinkita @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @awekbachira @vellicora @skepvids @sunrizef1 @stan-josie @fanficweasley @hiireadstuff @barcelonaloverf1life @c-losur3 @graciewrote @bruhhhhhhhhehhhhhhh @tallrock35 @ashy-kit @kat-s2 @minkyungseokie @lozzamez3 @leslieis-crying @adventuresofrose @lighttsoutlewis

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c0ffeejelly1 · 22 days

Text

Reacting to you wearing pheromone perfume

Multiple characters headcannon

Authors note: Dw they’re all horny for you, umm if it looks like I got lazy it’s bc I did. (POST-TIMESKIP!!)

Warnings: NSFW Content, Femdom(ish), vaginal sex, riding and uhhh find out the rest urself.

The plan was set.

You were just going to do your usual grocery run, but hold off putting the new found perfume on until you were at the door step.

That way, when you walked in, the scent would hit him like a wave, making it clear even for him to notice something different about you.

It was perfect! And soon the plan was to come into play as you sprayed yourself head to toe in its mist.

You tucked the bottle away deep in your grocery bag, then unlocked the door, the keys jingling softly as you did.

“Hey baby, I’m back.”

You say, shutting the door behind you and setting the groceries on the kitchen counter. “So what’ve you been up to?”

You shot him a quick glance from the couch, an innocent smile on your face.

The type to invade your personal space

What the... what the hell did you do? Something feels off here. He can sense it—no, he can practically smell it.

You’ve pulled a fast one, and he’s gonna find out what exactly it is..

“Me? Oh I’ve been up to absolutely nothing..like nothing at all.” he says, strolling over to you, a knowing smirk on his face.

“But the real question is though..what exactly have you been up to, huh?..”

You hadn’t realised just how close he had really gotten to you, until you took your eyes away from the ingredient in your hand to look at him, a palm rested onto the kitchen counter as he leaned in closer to you.

You didn’t waver though. You knew this was only an effect of the perfume working it’s magic, he was probably just trying to get a better whiff of you.

Everything was going according to plan..

“Well, I was just picking up some things for the house and dinner tonight. Thought I’d whip up your favorite, you know?”

You suddenly feel a grip on your shoulder as he turns you to face him. He takes this newfound opportunity as a chance to bury his nose into your neck.

“Jesus..” what hell did you actually do? Why’s he feeling so..bothered. And why do you look so attractive all of a sudden. Not that you’re not always beautiful, but right now... you’re just breathtaking, and it’s stirring up all sorts of feelings in him. “Why do you smell like this..”

Perfect. Everything was unfolding just as you wanted it! Sure, you didn’t expect him to take the bait so quickly, but who’s complaining? You knew what was coming; after all, this is your boyfriend.

“Hm? Smell like what, handsome? I always smell like this..” You wanted to tease him, to see how far he’d go with it. That turned out to be your biggest mistake.

NSFW

Now your legs were sore, your hips bruised, and your back aching, all while he continued thrusting up into you.

How was he still going? You had been lost in this rhythm for what felt like ages, your bodies entwined and slick with each other's essences.

“Ah-..Fuck..y-you feel so good..”

The air around you was thick with the scent of sweat and desire, a heady mix that only intensified the connection you both shared.

“And you s-smell..so so amazing..shit..it’s got me all types of f-fucked up..”

His face was flushed, lips slightly parted as he breathed heavily, each sound escaping him, a testament to the pleasure building between you.

His grip on your hip grew firmer, guiding your movements up and down his length with a deliberate urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the way his muscles tensed and flexed beneath your touch, each thrust igniting a fire deep within you.

“I-I don’t think m’gonna last long if you keep t-tightening-..fuck..like that baby..”

The quick, shallow breath he took and the tension in his abdomen were unmistakable signs that he was nearing his peak again, ready to fill you completely once more.

You could see the way his eyes filled with desire, the intensity of his gaze locking onto yours as if trying to convey everything he felt in that moment.

It was a silent conversation, one that spoke of longing and need, of a connection that transcended words.

You leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear, whispering sweet nothings that only fueled the fire between you.

You begin to rock your own hips against him, matching his thrust causing a small whine to escape his lips, and in return sending waves of pleasure coursing to you.

You could feel the heat pooling in your belly, a delicious ache that begged for release. The way he moved under you, the way he held you, made you feel cherished and desired all at once.

“B-baby I-..m’gonna..fuck- I’m g-gonna cum-..I can’t-..m’gonna- c-cumming!..”

With the broken moan he let out, you could feel him surrenderer to the moment, releasing all he had left inside of him into you and allowing the sensations to wash over him, a small whimper leaving his lips feeling you pulse around him.

You couldn’t help but lose yourself in the pleasure that enveloped you both, and to think..

this was all because of some damn perfume.

Characters: reigen, dimple, kagami, AOMINE, tengen, connie, NISHINOYA, oikawa, GOJO, SOLOMON , CHILDE, KAEYA, wriothesley (Anyone you like)

The type to stare at you from afar

He knew from the moment you entered the room something was off.

Now, he couldn’t shake off his suspicion.

What had exactly changed about you..was it your clothes? Nah..it couldn’t be that.

Maybe you styled your hair differently?..no that’s just stupid; anyone would notice that.

He was so caught up in his thoughts he didn’t even realise just how long he had been staring at you, examining every little detail like you were some kind of puzzle.

It was a little unsettling to say the least but you continued on with sorting out the groceries.

“Hey babe, can you help me with this?”

“No.”

You look at him confused and quite frankly offended.

This mf really just said no to you.

“What do you mean, no?”

“I can’t get close to you.”

That’s exactly the OPPOSITE of what the perfume is supposed to do! It’s supposed to attract him towards you not make him act like a deer in headlights!

“What- why?” You say a little too disappointingly for your liking.

“If I did, I might do something bad.”

Something bad? What could he possibly mean by something ba- ohh…oh. Oh.

Would it be funny if you just said that you wanted him to do that ‘bad’ thing.

NSFW

Okay take back everything you said. This is not funny anymore.

In fact this is just back breaking especially with the way he’s pounding into you all while pressing his face deep inside the crook of your neck.

“H-hah..fuck..I-is this good for y-you too, baby?..”

You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, as he struggled to stifle his moans, the soft, enticing sounds escaping him despite his best efforts.

You would be lying if you said this wasn’t exactly what you wanted; after all, you did choose to wear that perfume, the one you knew would draw him in.

I guess you just didn’t anticipate such a strong reaction from him, the way his body responded to your presence, as if he’d been waiting for this moment all along.

The whole experience was incredibly distracting, especially with him so close to your ear, his breath hitching with every whispered compliment you offered.

“F-fuck..pull on my hair..p-please baby..m’so close for you..”

Each time your fingers tangled in his hair, you can feel the tension in his body falter, his hips instinctively responding to your words.

It was as if your gentle praise unlocked something deep within him, a vulnerability that made the air between you thick with unspoken desire.

He didn’t need no perfume to make love to you like this.

Characters: SERIZAWA, giyuu, armin, KAGEYAMA, OSAMU, geto, MAMMON, leviathan, albedo, CYNO, kazuha, XIAO (Anyone you like)

The type to get distracted while you speak

“Just the..the usual..”

“Mm..the usual huh? So mysterious.”

You throw him a quick look, a playful smirk creeping onto your face as you plop down next to him on the couch. With a dramatic sigh, you turn to him.

“Honestly, I was thinking about whipping up something new for us, but I’m not sure it’ll turn out great… Oh! You won’t believe who I bumped into at the store earlier—…”

‘Blah blah blah proper name, place name, backstory stuff..’ (PLEASE TELL ME YOU KNOW WHAT IM TALKING ABOUT)

This man is not listening to a single thing your saying.

Everything is just going through one ear and out the other.

Yet, he’s nodding along, pretending to listen, his eyes locked on yours and occasionally flicking to your lips.

You’ve got him hook line and sinker.

“Babe. Babe, are you even listening to me?”

“..Huh? Y-yeah, you were talking about.. your friend?”

Right, because chopping tomatoes has everything to do with friends.

“Oh really? And what exactly was I saying about said friend?”

“I- you were..y’know..stuff?”

You raise an eyebrow at him

“Look baby I can’t concentrate right now. I don’t know what you did, but my mind is wandering to places it shouldn’t, and it’s messing with me, so please…”

“..please what?” You know what he wants.

“Help a guy out? I know you can see it..”

Oh, you definitely could see it. You could see the huge hard on he had right now, and here he was, asking for your help—there was no way you were going to turn him down.

NSFW

He let out a deep sigh, tilting his head back against the couch, overwhelmed by the pleasure coursing through him as he struggled to maintain eye contact with you.

“You look a-absolutely stunning like this, my love…” His voice was a low murmur, thick with desire, as he took in the sight of you.

The way your mouth enveloped him, gently teasing his skin, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a fire within him that he could hardly contain.

Your lips moved with a tantalising rhythm, each caress sending waves of ecstasy through his body.

“Mhm..like that, k-keep sucking on it like that beautiful..”

He could feel the warmth of your breath, the softness of your touch, and it was all too much to bear.

His hands instinctively found their way to your hair, fingers behind your head, as he tried to guide you, to pull you even closer.

“Jus a l-little more for me baby m’already so close because of you..”

The way your hands explored him, tracing the contours of his body, ignited a primal urge deep within him.

Every gentle stroke, every teasing touch drew a soft gasp from his lips, a sound that echoed the intensity of the moment.

Before long, his breath caught in his throat, and without any warning, he released himself into your mouth.

Soft murmurs of "m’sorry" and "thank you" slipped from his lips, each word laced with a mixture of guilt and gratitude, as if he were acknowledging the weight of the moment while simultaneously surrendering to it.

He tilted his head back again, exposing the graceful curve of his neck, while a deep, guttural moan escaped him.

He clutched the couch for support, his fingers digging into the fabric as he began to calm himself down

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t like that perfume.

Characters: midorima, rengoku, eren, Tsukishima, akaashi, Ushijima, suna, NANAMI, LUCIFER, ayato, DILUC, neuvillette, zhongli (Anyone you like)

The type to suddenly want to be a man

“Doesn’t matter, let me help you with that.”

This probably may have been the fastest you had ever seen this lazy ass man get up from the couch and willing ask to help you with something without you telling him to.

This perfume was doing its damn job alright.

And you were liking it already.

“You sure babe? Do you even know where most of these things go?” you asked, a hint of skepticism in your voice.

“…No, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for once, right?”

“Yeah sure..” you conceded, your curiosity piqued by his sudden determination.

“Just relax and take it easy. Please. I’ve got this covered.” he assured you, his tone confident and light.

You let him gently guide you back to the couch, ensuring you stayed seated while he headed to the kitchen.

A few moments later, he returned to you.

“Finished already? That was fast—”

Your words were abruptly silenced as another set of lips met yours, warm and insistent.

The unexpected kiss sent a jolt of surprise through you, momentarily stealing your breath away.

You had been caught off guard, your playful teasing hanging in the air like a forgotten thought.

When the kiss finally broke, you both pulled back slightly, as he rested his gaze on you his chest rising gently.

“I want 10 of em.”

“..10 of what?”

“kids.” He replies with a stern look on his face.

“...”

“Is that a yes?”

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m being deadass.”

NSFW

Well let’s just say he was NOT joking, and was very much being true to his words.

He intended to have those 10 kids, but first, he needed to prepare you.

That's why you found yourself on the bed, your legs resting on his shoulders as he immersed himself in your warmth.

“Mm..so good..you taste so fucking good..”

He was devouring you like a man starved, his tongue skillfully teasing your clit and occasionally sucking on it, making your legs tighten around him even more.

How many times had you cum already with his restless mouth?

Just how long did he plan on keeping this up?

You were already worn out, and now your legs were killing you.

“One more for me pretty girl..come on I know you can do it. You’ve got one more left in ya don’t you..” his words were muffled in with the wet sounds of your juices but you could still hear each and everyone of his dirty talk.

The way he would urge you into coming undone onto his tongue, the way his nose would brush up against your clit as his tongue pummelled into your hole.

It was all too much.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer anymore especially with his hums of approval sending all the right vibrations down to your mound.

With one last flick of his tongue against your clit, you came, fingers gripping onto his hair tightly.

When catching your breath just as you thought you had finished up with everything, do you hear the rustling of the sheets only to see him preparing to put his length into you.

“Fuck..d-don’t look at me like that princess, you know damn well we aren’t done here, especially with how hard I am now..”

That perfumes going on lock down.

Characters: Sanemi, jean, REINER, UKAI, kuroo, hinata, BOKUTO, atsumu, iwaizumi, CHOSO, DIAVOLO, ITTO, thoma (Anyone you like)

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