#want to be able to feel my baby doing this inside of me
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Close To Me - OP81



Oscar Piastri x Leclerc!Reader
summary: charles has been getting tired of watching you and oscar dance around each other oblivious of how obviously in love you were with each other, so he calls up the other drivers to set a plan, operation getting you two together.
word count: 11k
warnings: none, this is pure fluff. there is a little bit of jealous!oscar. some flirty!lando, but he's doing it for the plot.
(this is one of my favorites)
playlist if you want to tune in:
hate to be lame - lizzy mcalpine
wish you were here - charlie collins
can we talk about isaac? - rachel chinouriri
more than friends - edie brickell
close to me - the cure
The sun had barely crested over the paddock roofs when you stepped through the gates, media swarming behind you like bees to sugar. You moved through it with muscle memory, your lanyard brushing against your chest as your boots clicked against the concrete, sunglasses on, head down. The Leclerc genes cursed you with attention you never asked for and you weren’t looking for cameras that morning.
You rounded the corner, going straight to the Ferrari motorhome, when your eyes found him. Oscar. He was leaning against the McLaren garage wall, wearing a white shirt, McLaren cap on his head, arms crossed over his chest like he was waiting for you to walk by. You glanced at him very quickly, barely able to catch how his gaze lingered on you, from the black leather of your boots to the claw clip holding your hair in place.
“Morning.” You heard him say it, softly.
Oscar’s smile was barely there, but it was for you only.
It should’ve been easy to reply, but your throat always tightened when it came to him. Oscar was the type of boy who spoke with his eyes and lazy smiles, who had the perfect Australian accent that always made his voice sound sleepy, who had a confusing sense of humour but never failed to make you laugh. And most importantly, he treated you more than just “Charles Leclerc’s little sister”. Something about the way he talked to you and validated your entire human experience was terrifying, because no boy has ever had that effect on you.
Which is why, when you passed through him on that bright early Friday morning, you just smiled back, biting the inside of your cheek.
“Morning.”
Your eyes crossed for what felt like too long and you looked away too quickly, like a teenage girl seeing her high school crush in the hallway. To anyone else watching the scene, it looked innocent, cute, sweet, even, but to you? It felt pathetic. Because how was it even possible that a man like Oscar Piastri could make you, “The Princess of Monaco” weak to your knees?
Waiting by the Ferrari motorhome, Charles stood there like a statue, sunglasses protecting his eyes so no one could tell his fixation. The espresso in his hand was long gone cold. He had been watching the two of you for weeks now, noticing patterns. The same glances, fake-casual greetings, flushes of cheeks whenever you would accidentally touch.
The thing was, Charles would never consider himself to be the smartest one of the Leclerc family, not when you held that title, but he wasn’t oblivious to his surroundings either and he had been in love far too many times to know how feelings worked. And he saw it, as clear as day, in the way Oscar was always correcting his posture when you entered a room, in the softness of your voice when you spoke to him, when you spoke about him.
All this unknowing, for a guy like Charles Leclerc who was probably the most pro-love, romantic guy on the planet, was unbearable to watch. Add to all of this the fact that he just wanted to see his little sister happy the way he was happy with Alexandra. Especially when he watched you suffer in the hands of the wrong guys up close. So, if anyone could treat his baby sister right, that someone was definitely Oscar Piastri.
Charles tossed his espresso in the bin like it was your unresolved sexual tension and stormed off the paddock. He took his phone from his pocket, thumbing through contacts, until he created the perfect group chat, with the drivers he knew were the closest to you and would help him in what he liked to call a “crisis”. The Monegasque texted in bold, capital letters:
Charles: EMERGENCY REUNION. MY DRIVER’S ROOM.
Fifteen minutes later, Leclerc’s Ferrari suite was closed to all but the most elite and, apparently, the most insane. It was unusually quiet for midday, save for the increasingly erratic rhythm of Charles’ footsteps against the floor. He stood in the center of the room, pacing like a man unraveling, hands flailing with every new theory, hair slightly mussed from too much dramatic gesturing. The espresso-fueled madness in his eyes was beginning to unnerve the others watching.
George sat upright on the edge of the white leather couch, legs crossed neatly at the ankles, nursing a porcelain cup of tea like this was a shareholders' meeting. His expression was tight with disbelief, but his eyes betrayed the slightest glimmer of curiosity. The Mercedes polo he wore was crisp as ever, but his composure was starting to fray at the edges.
Max claimed the seat furthest from the action, lounging with infuriating calm, arms folded, one ankle resting over the opposite knee. His Red Bull cap was tilted just enough to cast a shadow over his eyes, making him unreadable. Still, there was something vaguely amused about the way he blinked at Charles, like a cat watching a mouse trap itself.
And then there was Lando, wearing a backwards McLaren cap, draped sideways across a chair. One leg was slung over the armrest, the other bouncing with impatient energy. A half-empty water bottle dangled from his fingers, and his curls – barely contained under the cap – framed a face lit up with unholy glee.
For the past six minutes, they had been forced to endure Charles’ monologue. A passionate, detail-heavy dissection of what he now called The Situation.
“You’ve called us here to talk about your sister’s love life?” George asked, raising an eyebrow like he just wasted precious minutes of his day.
Charles spun on his heel, looking him dead in the eye.
“No. I called you here to talk about our lives. Because I can’t take watching them orbit each other like hormonal teenagers anymore. It’s distracting and it’s painful.”
“How can you be so sure they even like each other?” Max threw the question out there with skepticism.
“Didn’t you listen to anything I just said?” Charles snapped back like it was obvious, like he was determined to prove his point with a Powerpoint presentation if he had to.
“Yeah, but, you’re biased… What if Oscar doesn’t feel the same?”
“Oh, trust me, he does.” Lando chimed in, finally sitting up slightly. “Every time he hears the name Leclerc his face gets blushy, even if we’re just talking about Charles.”
“Have they ever kissed?” George asked, suddenly more invested in the supposed love story that was about to unfold.
“They haven’t even talked.” Charles corrected. “Not like real people. They say hi and good luck like they’re in a Jane Austen novel.”
“You read Jane Austen?” Lando raised a brow.
“Focus.” Charles threw his hands up. “Look, I need your help.”
“Oh no.” George said instantly.
“Oh yes.” Lando grinned, vibrating with excitement. “We’re locking them in a fucking janitor’s closet.”
“No!” Charles flinched like he had just been physically slapped by the words. “That is not what I meant.”
“I’m in.” Max added with a nod. Other than his personal gratification of manipulating reality, the thought of having Charles shutting up about someone else’s love life was enough motivation to get him in.
“You guys…” George began, but Lando had already stood up, clapping his hands like a man preparing a heist.
“No, this is good. I’ve seen Oscar look at her like she’s the last Tim Tam of the supermarket. He’s whipped.”
“You’re all insane. But... I have to say… It’s a bit romantic.” George sighed, rubbing his temples, contemplating if he was even going to sign up to this.
Charles sighed and dropped into a chair, rubbing his eyes like this had aged him twenty years.
“Please don’t make me regret this.”
“No promises.” Max replied, adjusting the brim of his cap with all the enthusiasm of someone about to commit a war crime.
George raised his teacup.
“To Operation: Getting Piastri and little Leclerc laid.”
Max didn’t raise anything, but the small tilt of his head said you’re all idiots, but fine. Charles stared at the ceiling and whispered a prayer to no one in particular. All of them with the same boyish sparkle in their eyes. They were about to make it work even if it’s the last thing they do on Earth.
It took less than 24 hours for the plan to come to life.
Charles had barely finished outlining a list of what not to do when Lando took matters into his own chaotic hands. And Max, of course, silently followed. Not because he cared about romance, but because the season was starting to get so boring his only option of fun was manipulating someone else’s love life. On the other hand, he would never admit that, deep down, he would enjoy seeing you happy.
You didn’t see it coming. You were on your way to grab something to eat, phone in one hand, sunglasses still perched on top of your head, mind blissfully preoccupied with absolutely nothing except the vague thought of finding something salty to snack on. The day had been quiet, for once. No unnecessary socializing, no Charles in your ear about tyre wear or media scandals, just your own peace of mind. Which lasted about twenty seconds before Lando Norris appeared out of nowhere like a human roadblock, stepping directly into your path with the energy of a puppy hopped up on Red Bull.
“Hey!” he said, too casually.
You blinked up at him, mildly startled.
“Hi, Lando.” You offered a polite smile, stepping to the side to go around him.
He didn’t move. Instead, he fell into step beside you, bouncing on his heels like he couldn’t contain whatever scheme was brewing in that curly-haired head of his. It was odd, yes, but not suspicious enough to set off any real alarms. Lando was always like this around you – friendly. A little too chatty. You had always chalked it up to the fact that he usually had a crush on one of your friends and liked using you as a wingwoman. It never bothered you. If anything, you liked watching his disasters unfold and helping them along when you were feeling generous.
You had no idea that this time, the exact opposite was happening.
“So…” Lando said, drawing the word out like a magician about to reveal a card trick. “They sent me to find you.”
“Who’s they?” You raised an eyebrow.
“McLaren.” He grinned. “We’re filming a simulator challenge today and we’re dragging innocent civilians into it for content. You up for it?”
You stopped mid-step and looked at him skeptically.
“Now?”
“Yup.” He nodded, his grin growing too wide to be natural.
“Why me?” You narrowed your eyes.
“Because you’re a natural talent, obviously.”
“Come on.”
“Okay, fine, because everyone else we asked said no.” he admitted, eyes twinkling.
“Of course.” You rolled your eyes.
“Do you have anything better to do?”
“Well, no, but I–” You hesitated, finally halting in your tracks. He turned and stopped too, standing in front of you like a cartoon character mid-freeze frame. “I’ve never used that stupid simulator before.”
Lando waved a dismissive hand.
“Relax. You’re going against Oscar, so it’s going to be easy.”
Your heart tripped over itself. The name hit harder than you expected, like someone dropped it into your chest without warning. And because the universe hated you, your cheeks flushed instantly. You could feel it, warm and crawling. You prayed to every deity in every religion that Lando didn’t catch it.
“Oscar?” you repeated, voice pitched a little higher than you liked.
Lando’s eyes sparkled like he won something.
“Yeah. That okay with you?”
You hesitated. Again. And that made it worse.
“I mean…” you started, adjusting the strap of your bag, suddenly very interested in a scuff on the floor. “I’m closer to you.”
“Sure.” Lando said, way too fast. “But I wouldn’t want you to be completely destroyed in the simulator, so I’m generously offering you the second-best McLaren driver. Whom you might have a chance against.”
“You do know he’s ahead of you this season, right?” You narrowed your eyes.
“Details.” Lando smirked.
His cocky little grin was so insufferable that you genuinely considered turning him down. Just on principle. But something in your gut twisted when you thought about it, about saying no to this. To Oscar. To whatever this stupid chance might be. You didn’t want to admit it, but deep down, you knew it would sound too suspicious if you refused to do a lighthearted video with him. And worse, a part of you wanted to say yes.
So, you sighed, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip, and muttered,
“Fine.”
Lando clapped his hands once like he won a round of Mario Kart.
“Perfect. He’s already in the sim room. I’ll take you there.”
You turned to head down the hall, nerves simmering beneath your skin. What you didn’t see, as you walked was the gleeful chaos glinting in Lando’s eyes as he pulled out his phone.
Lando: it worked. she took the bait. George: No way. Max: We’re masterminds.
Lando guided you through the corridor, barely masking the energy vibrating beneath his skin. His gait was casual enough to pass as normal, but his eyes kept flicking to you with an intensity that didn’t match his usual puppy charm. He was practically beaming. The kind of look you usually saw right before he did something idiotic.
And yet, you followed.
Despite your instincts beginning to whisper something was off, Lando had a way of making you feel like the whole thing was harmless, fun, just another stupid stunt for social media. You just didn’t figure out how deep the chaos ran.
“Right in here.” Lando said as he stopped in front of a door halfway down the hallway. The McLaren logo gleamed from a sleek silver panel beside it. “He’s already in. Go give him hell.”
“Shouldn’t you be in there too?” You raised a brow.
“Nah…” he waved it off with a nonchalant grin. “This round’s just for you two. I’ll join in the next one. Gotta warm up first.”
You hesitated. Something about the way he was looking at you – like you were his favorite person in the world, like he was in awe of how someone as smart and guarded as you could be, simultaneously, so stupid – should have stopped you. But it didn’t.
You rolled your eyes, muttered “fine” and stepped inside.
The lights were already on, soft and blue, illuminating the simulator setup in the middle of the room. Oscar sat on the edge of the sim seat, half-zipped in his race suit, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other frozen mid-air as his eyes locked on yours.
Right then, the door clicked shut behind you.
You turned instinctively and reached for the handle, only to find it completely stuck. You jiggled it once. Twice. A third time, a little harder.
“What the fuck?”
Across the room, Oscar stood up, frozen beside the simulator. He looked guilty. Like he was caught red-handed, even though he clearly didn’t plan any of this.
“Did you know about this?” you asked sharply.
“No. I swear.” He shook his head so fast his hair bounced.
From outside, you could hear the unmistakable sounds of laughter.
“Norris!” you banged on the door with the flat of your palm. “This isn’t funny!”
“You’ll thank me later!” Lando called through the wall, voice muffled. “Bonding time, baby!”
“We’ll be back in twenty minutes. Unless you start making out, then we’ll give you thirty.” Max’s voice followed, the most excited you have ever heard him.
You turned slowly, your back to the door now, and looked at Oscar. He was sitting down again, awkwardly hunched on the simulator seat, afraid to move. His knee was bouncing. He rubbed his palms over his thighs once, then again, like the fabric would magically erase the tension from the room.
“This is ridiculous.” you muttered, folding your arms. “I’m going to kill them.”
Oscar let out a nervous laugh, barely a sound.
You moved to the opposite side of the room and sat, legs crossed tightly, eyes avoiding his at all cost. The hum of the air conditioning filled the dead space between you. For two people who had known each other for years, who had lingered beside each other for months, the room had never felt smaller.
“So…” Oscar said eventually, voice tight. “How’s your… weekend going?”
You almost laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation, but decided to be polite about it.
“It’s fine. Yours?”
“Yeah. Everything 's cool.”
“Cool.” You blinked at him.
“Sorry you’re stuck here with me, I’m sure you have better things to do.” Oscar’s eyes darted to yours, then away.
You stared at him a moment longer than necessary. He didn’t meet your gaze, his shoulders were tense, curled in, like he was bracing for something.
“Me? You’re the one who should be out there analysing data or something. I’m just a guest.”
You heard Oscar’s soft laugh as you paced throughout the room, scanning as if it was the most interesting place you’ve ever been.
This should have been a moment. This was meant to be the moment. Forced proximity, locked door, all those things from movies and books. But nothing was happening. No confession. No lingering glance. Just two people who wanted too much and didn’t know how to ask for it.
You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, waiting for the moment to pass.
Twenty-five painfully silent minutes later, a mechanic, a kind man named Luca who had no idea what storm he was interrupting, unlocked the door with a confused expression.
“Uh… Norris said there was a fault with the AC?”
You shot out of the room so fast it was like the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. Oscar followed behind, his steps quiet, shoulders stiff.
Outside, Lando, Max, and George stood huddled by the pit wall, hands clasped like kids watching a science experiment explode.
“Well?” Lando asked, grinning like a madman.
Oscar didn’t stop walking. He just passed them, silent, jaw tight, a little sadness in his eyes, and headed straight for the engineers’ room.
Max’s brows lifted.
“That is not the face of a guy who just got the girl.”
Lando stared after Oscar, dumbfounded.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I think we’re going to need a bigger plan.” George shook his head, arms crossed, utterly disappointed.
Charles appeared beside them with a deep sigh.
“I hate both of them.” he muttered.
“We’re not giving up. This is war now.” Lando pointed dramatically.
Charles groaned into his hands.
You, somewhere across the paddock, were still trying to slow your heartbeat. Fingers wrapped tightly around a bottle of water you didn’t even open. The air felt thick, like your lungs had forgotten how to work properly. You kept your head down, letting the crowd blur around you, barely hearing the mechanics shouting back and forth, the hiss of tires, the buzz of the weekend’s chaos unfolding as usual. Nothing about you felt usual anymore.
You kept replaying it, the silence, the weird tension, the way Oscar couldn’t even meet your eyes for longer than three seconds at a time. You didn’t expect fireworks, exactly, but you expected something. A real conversation for a change. Yet, there was just silence. The kind that made your skin itch.
You wondered if you misread it all from the beginning. If you were just arrogant enough to think there was something there when there wasn’t. That maybe you spent too long imagining looks that didn’t mean anything, conversations that were too short to hold weight, casual touches that weren’t as charged as you thought they were.
Maybe you should’ve pushed through. Should’ve said something. Anything. Instead, you stood on one side of the room, guarded and still, while he sat on the other, stiff and nervous. Two idiots in a box, waiting for a cue that never came.
And now? Now you were walking aimlessly through the paddock, the echo of your own restraint ringing in your ears, stomach tight with regret and shame and, worst of all, hope. Hope that it wasn’t over. That it hadn’t been nothing. That maybe, despite everything… he still felt it too.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
You were still overthinking the lock-in days later.
Every time you passed by the McLaren garage, your stomach knotted. Not because Oscar avoided you, quite the opposite, actually, every glance he gave you now felt more loaded than before. More carefully timed. More… measured. As if you were both aware of the invisible thread tying you together, and pulling too hard might make it snap.
So you danced around each other again. Just like always. Until Charles did what he did best: intervened with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.
“Wear something nice tonight.” your brother said casually, walking past you like he wasn’t casually about to ruin your entire emotional equilibrium. “Nothing crazy. Just… date-nice.”
You looked up from your laptop, suspicious.
“Excuse me?”
“Dinner.” Charles said, waving a hand like it was obvious. “With a friend of mine. Good guy. I set it up.”
“You set me up?” You blinked at him.
“Yes.” He didn’t even flinch.
“Charles…”
“Come on, mon ange. Look, I know you like someone else, but you can’t live your life single forever waiting for him to make a move. You should explore other options.”
You narrowed your eyes, letting the weight of his words sink in. That was probably the most helpful advice Charles had ever given you. He was right, you couldn’t just sit around and wait all day for Oscar, when someone else might give you the same feelings, the same love you craved from him.
“Do I know him?”
“I don’t think so, but he’s very nice, smart, kind… I think you’ll like him.”
You opened your mouth to object, but he was already walking away, tapping something into his phone, that smug little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Something was off. But you went anyway. Because part of you was curious and another part, the louder one lately, was tired of waiting for someone to make a move that would never come.
The restaurant was intimate. Dim lighting, soft jazz humming from hidden speakers, white linen tablecloths and wine glasses that sparkled under flickering candlelight. Your stomach dropped the second the hostess walked you to the table, and you saw him.
Oscar.
Sitting there already, in a dark navy button-down you had never seen before, sleeves rolled just enough to show his forearms, hair slightly messier than usual. He looked up the moment you approached. The shock hit you both at the same time, then vanished behind the exact same tight, polite smile.
“Hey.” you said first.
“Hey.” he echoed, standing to greet you.
He pulled out your chair, like a gentleman, waiting for you to sit down. Neither of you dared to touch the obvious conclusion. This wasn’t a casual catch-up, this was a set-up. And Charles had orchestrated it flawlessly. But instead of calling it out, instead of laughing and admitting what it was, you both did what you always did: You pretended.
“Nice place, huh?” Oscar said lightly, opening the menu even though he clearly wasn’t reading it.
“Yeah.” you replied, smiling too hard. “Pretty nice.”
It was torture. A polite, well-lit, pasta-and-wine torture session.
Charles had chosen the restaurant with care. Not for the food, not for the ambiance – though both were excellent – but for location. Specifically, a table near the back corner, with a perfect diagonal view of the one he had reserved for you and Oscar. He had even made sure the lighting above your table was just bright enough for a clear line of sight.
"You're unwell." Alex said the moment they sat down, her voice low and amused as she saw the obsession in her boyfriend’s eyes.
Charles didn’t respond, he was too busy watching it. From the moment you walked in, pretty, composed, totally unaware, to the moment Oscar stood.
“Look at him.” he muttered, leaning forward, elbows on the table. “Standing up like it’s a real date.”
“Charles, you told them it was a date.” Alex blinked.
They both turned their heads slightly, watching as Oscar pulled your chair out for you like some shy prince in a Netflix rom-com. You smiled and he blushed.
“Why are they acting like strangers?” Charles whispered, horrified. “They’ve known each other since 2023.”
Across the room, you asked Oscar something about pasta. He nodded, then you nodded. The tablecloth remained untouched by any romantic gesture. Not even a casual lean-in. It was like watching a National Geographic special on emotionally constipated mammals.
“This is painful.” Charles said, dragging a hand down his face.
“This is hilarious.” Alex chuckled.
“They haven’t even made eye contact.” Charles grabbed his wine glass, downed half of it in one go, and slammed it onto the table. “I should’ve just locked them in the simulator room myself.”
Alex leaned back, thoroughly enjoying the disaster.
“Didn’t Lando already try that?”
“Yes. And it failed because neither of them has an ounce of courage in their bodies.”
They sat in silence for another few seconds, but their attention was brought up once Oscar reached for the salt at the same exact time you did. Charles leaned forward so hard he almost knocked over the candle. You both apologized at the same time and then laughed awkwardly. No one touched the salt again.
Charles made a noise like he was personally wounded.
“They’re going to die before they ever touch hands.”
“I think you overestimated their emotional maturity.” Alex wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, grinning.
“I overestimated their basic human instincts, Alex.”
On the other side of the restaurant, you were trying your best to hide all your nerves around him. The place felt quieter than it should have. The candle between you flickered like it was mocking you – soft, warm, romantic – all things you refused to acknowledge.
Across the table, Oscar was doing what he always did when he didn’t know what to say: fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. Not looking directly at you. Not letting himself really look.
“So…” he said, eyes flicking to the menu like it contained the secrets of the universe. “Been a busy week?”
“Yeah. Charles has been extra… Charles.” You nodded.
“Yeah. Same with Lando.” He smiled.
You both laughed, and the silence that followed felt like a dropped glass.
The waiter came. You ordered something you weren’t even sure you liked, the first thing you passed your eyes through, something not too expensive though, you didn’t want him to think you were fussy or picky. Oscar asked for a bottle of wine you split once in Monza two years ago, but neither of you acknowledged that.
The conversation stayed safely above the surface. It hovered around the race calendar, old travel stories, the food in different cities. No questions that mattered. No truths with edges. Every time your hands got too close on the table, you pulled back. Every time your knees brushed beneath the white linen, you froze. You didn’t dare look at him for too long.
Oscar didn’t flirt. Not even once. His voice stayed low and polite. He smiled, but only in short bursts. You kept waiting for him to break. To say this is weird, isn’t it? Charles totally set us up. To say I’m glad it’s you. But he didn’t, because, just like you, he was too scared.
You swirled the last of your wine and glanced toward the bar and that’s when you saw them. Charles sitting in the far corner with Alex beside him, both of them so obviously pretending not to watch that it became laughable. Alex at least had the decency to look amused. Charles looked like he was going through all seven stages of grief.
You turned back to Oscar, trying not to smile. He saw them too.
“Do we acknowledge that?” His lips quirked slightly.
“No.” you said. “If we do, he wins.”
Oscar nodded solemnly.
“Fair.”
When the bill came, Oscar, being the gentleman he is, paid without hesitation. You reached for your purse, but he shook his head gently, already handing over his card.
“Let me.” he said.
You wanted to argue, but that would require someone calling this a date, which is why you decided to smile politely and hide the fact that your whole body was blushing.
Outside, the night had cooled just slightly, the breeze soft against your skin, the streetlights casting warm pools of light over the cobblestones. You stood together just outside the restaurant’s entrance, and suddenly, you didn’t know what to do with your hands.
“This was…” you began.
“Nice.” Oscar finished.
You both smiled awkwardly, full of longing and softness.
He stepped forward to hug you, slowly, like he was giving you a chance to back away. You didn’t. Your arms came around him too easily, like they were waiting for the excuse. He was warm. Solid. He smelled sweet, a fragrance more gourmand than you expected him to wear. His hand settled at the small of your back, and it stayed there, longer than necessary. Long enough to make your heart stutter. But before you could even decide whether to stay in it, he pulled back.
“Goodnight, Oscar.” You smiled at your feet.
“Goodnight.” He smiled, too, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
And you walked in opposite directions, both of you acutely aware that something had almost happened and neither of you had been brave enough to let it.
You didn’t sleep well after dinner. You told yourself it was the pasta, or the wine, or Charles’ hiding behind a plant – an image you couldn’t unsee no matter how many times you closed your eyes. But the truth was simpler: you couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way Oscar hugged you, the way his fingers rested on your back. About the way neither of you had admitted what the hell was actually going on between you.
And now, everything between you felt worse. Not colder, just tighter. Smaller. Like a sealed jar you couldn’t open. One polite conversation away from shattering. So when George texted you on Thursday evening with a casual “Drinks @ my place tonight. Chill thing. Come, please 🙏”, you didn’t question it. You were in desperate need of distraction. Something loud and easy.
You showed up fashionably late, wearing your favorite jeans and a top that made you feel like you weren’t unraveling internally. You expected a few drivers, maybe some friends from Mercedes or McLaren PR, a playlist George had overthought and a table full of overpriced wine. What you didn’t expect was him. You spotted Oscar almost immediately, standing in the kitchen with a glass in hand and a half-smile on his face. He was mid-conversation with Lando and Carlos, but you could tell by the way he kept glancing around the room that he was waiting for something. Someone.
When his eyes found you, his entire expression shifted. Just for a split second, until it settled again into a soft, unreadable, carefully constructed blank.
You made your way to the drinks table slowly, trying to act natural, like your stomach wasn’t already tying itself into a thousand knots. You were halfway through pouring yourself a glass of sparkling rosé when George appeared beside you, grinning from ear to ear.
“You made it!” he said, too casually.
“Of course I did. You invited me.” You raised a brow.
“Ha, funny.” George just hummed.
You stiffened.
“What?”
“So did you… Invited Oscar, I mean.”
“George, what the fuck?”
George sipped from his glass, nodding toward the other side of the room.
“Told him you were begging to see him.”
“You did not.” Your heart dropped. “George…”
“Look.” he started, patting your shoulder like a therapist with no credentials. “This is getting ridiculous. You are both adults, not highschoolers. And you’re definitely not characters in a Netflix show. So, please, act your age.”
George, then, vanished into the crowd, not giving you a chance to protest.
You stayed on opposite ends of the party for over an hour. You told yourself it was for self-preservation, that if you let yourself stand too close to Oscar, you would say something stupid or let something slip. But in reality, you were terrified.
Every time your eyes found his – and they did, over and over again – he was already looking at you. Already watching. Already saying things with his expression that he would never dare say out loud. At one point, he laughed at something a random girl said, and it made your chest hurt. Not because you were jealous, but because you weren’t the one making him laugh.
You stood near Charles for a while, pretending not to notice the way he kept checking his watch like he was timing your progress. You passed Max by the snack table. He didn’t even look up from his drink.
“This is worse than watching paint dry.” Max muttered, flat as ever. “I’ve seen Red Bull debriefs with more passion than this.”
“Maybe they’re slow-burn.” Charles offered.
“They’re no burn.” Max said. “I give them fifteen more minutes before I drag them into a closet myself.”
Eventually, you drifted toward the balcony. The air on the balcony felt cooler than the rest of the flat. Crisp against your skin, sharp in a way that made it easier to breathe. You needed that. The oxygen, the space, the quiet.
You leaned against the railing, fingers curling around the cold metal, your wine glass balanced loosely in your other hand. From this angle, you could see the whole street below: the late-night wanderers, the slow shuffle of cabs, the kind of stillness that always came before dawn. Your mind was racing too fast for your body to keep up, nerves buzzing beneath your skin like a warning siren you couldn’t shut off.
You didn’t know what George had expected. That you and Oscar would catch each other’s eyes across the party and just melt into each other like some rom-com climax? That you would leap into each other’s arms, confess your feelings in a dramatic monologue, and kiss in the middle of the hallway while Max clapped? Because instead, you stood across the room for hours, pretending like the other didn’t exist while drowning.
Oscar didn’t avoid you exactly, but he didn’t approach you either. He glanced at you too often to be casual and smiled too softly when you passed. It was restrained, like he was trying to stop himself on purpose.
You closed your eyes, letting the wind brush over your face. If you stayed out here long enough, maybe you could forget the way his eyes had followed you from across the kitchen. Maybe you could forget the way your stomach flipped every time he tilted his head in that thoughtful, quiet way. The one that made you wonder if he was about to say something that would ruin everything, or finally make it all make sense.
Your peace was defeated when the door behind you creaked open. For a second, you expected to be Oscar, but the steps were too sure and too firm.
“Are you hiding?”
You flinched, taken back by the heavy Dutch accent. Out of all people, Max Verstappen surely was the last person you’d expect to find you.
“Jesus.”
“Wrong guess.” he said, and you could practically hear the smug smirk in his voice as he walked up beside you. “Try again.”
You glanced at him sideways. Max was leaning against the railing, glass in one hand, hoodie pulled over his head in a way that made him look like the least threatening therapist alive. His expression was unreadable, as always, some strange mixture of mild amusement and unfazed disapproval.
You turned back to the city.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Needed air. And to escape Lando’s DJ set before he ruins ABBA forever.”
“Fair.” You hummed.
He took a long sip of his drink and didn’t say anything else for a moment. You could feel him watching you out of the corner of his eye, the way he always did, quiet, unbothered, but not unaware.
“Let me guess… Oscar hasn’t said a word to you all night, and now you’re out here replaying every moment between you two wondering where you fucked it up.”
You turned your head sharply, glaring.
“Do you want me to push you off the railing?”
“You can try.” He smirked, satisfied.
“Are you this nosy with everyone else’s love life?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.
“No. Just yours.” Max shrugged.
“Why mine?”
“Because yours is the most obvious, and somehow still the most unresolved.” He tilted his head. “You and Oscar are like… the world’s slowest car crash. In reverse.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“It does.” he said, taking another sip of his drink. “You’re both backing away from each other so slowly it’s almost impressive.”
You bit your bottom lip, looking back at the lights.
“It’s not that simple.”
“It is. You’re just both cowards.”
You groaned, resting your head briefly against the railing.
“You’re such a dick.”
“Maybe.” he said, unbothered. “But I’m not wrong.”
That was the thing about Max: he wasn’t gentle. He didn’t offer comforting platitudes or shoulder pats. But he had this way of making you feel like you didn’t have to pretend. Like he could see through the performance and wasn’t asking for more than honesty.
He nudged your arm lightly.
“So? What’s the excuse now?”
“There isn’t one.” You exhaled and rested your elbows on the railing. “It’s just… exhausting, you know?”
“What is?”
“Feeling this much and doing absolutely nothing about it.”
That was the truth, wasn’t it? Not just the pining or the aching or the helpless orbiting, but the containment of it. The way you wrapped your feelings up in duct tape and caution signs, too afraid to touch them. Too afraid to make it real.
“You ever think maybe he’s just as scared as you are?” You blinked. That wasn’t the answer you expected. “Oscar’s a good guy. Too good, maybe. And I think sometimes he overthinks himself into paralysis.”
You looked down at your wine.
“I thought you were going to tell me to get over it.”
“I was. But then I saw the way he looked at you.” You turned your face toward him slowly, brows raised. Max gave you a dry look. “Don’t act like you didn’t notice.”
“I… wasn’t sure.”
“He watched you like you were about to disappear.” Max paused, voice dipping into something lower, something more certain. “And if you had, I think he would’ve followed.”
You swallowed.
The wind picked up slightly, tugging at a piece of hair near your cheek. Max reached over, casually tucked it behind your ear, then pulled back like it hadn’t meant anything. And maybe it didn’t. Maybe it was just Max being Max, direct, strangely tender when you weren’t expecting it.
“You okay?” he asked finally.
You nodded, but didn’t speak.
He waited another beat before pushing off the railing and stretching his arms above his head.
“Well…” he said, tone lighter again. “Come back in before Charles freaks out and thinks you got kidnapped.”
You snorted.
“I bet he already does.”
“Exactly. So, come spare us all.” Max stepped back toward the door, pausing only once to glance at you. “You don’t have to do anything tonight, but you should decide soon if you ever want to.”
And then he left and you stood there – heart heavier, mind sharper – wondering when the last time was that someone told you the truth without dressing it up in caution.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
From the party on, you pulled away gradually. So slowly that most people wouldn’t have noticed. A little less time in the paddock. A few more declined invitations. Laughs that didn’t quite reach your eyes. You still said hi, still smiled when you had to. But somewhere between that balcony and the next race weekend, you built a wall, carefully, brick by brick.
Not because you stopped feeling something, but because you felt too much.
You were tired of being the one who noticed the glances first. Tired of the ache of almosts. Of one-sided what-ifs. And you thought, if he wasn’t going to make a move, then maybe you needed to make a move away. So you did.
And Oscar noticed.
He didn’t say anything, of course. That wasn’t Oscar. But you saw it in the way he stopped hovering near the media pen when you were close. The way he stood a little further from your brother. The way he laughed less. Like something inside him had dimmed without him realizing it. Or maybe he realized it and just didn’t know what to do about it.
The worst part? You missed him. You missed the silence between you when it didn’t feel awkward. You missed the stolen glances that used to feel full of potential instead of regret. You missed the warmth that used to hum quietly in your chest every time he smiled at you like it meant something.
Now, every interaction felt like treading water.
And Charles noticed all of it.
You caught him staring once, arms crossed, jaw tight, watching you and Oscar pass each other like strangers. The way he looked at you made you feel ten years old again, caught sneaking cookies before dinner. You gave him a look that said don’t, and he gave you one that said I will.
He tried to stay out of it for one weekend. Tried. But he cracked a little every time he saw the pain in your face.
“Am I insane?” Charles asked, pacing around his driver’s room. “Or is this getting worse?”
“You’re not insane.” Lando said from the couch, spinning a pen between his fingers. “This is like watching two magnets refuse to touch.”
Charles had his hands on his hips, brow furrowed so tightly it looked like it might never uncrease. He kept walking from one end of the room to the other like movement could stop the fury building in his chest. Every few seconds, he shot a look at Max, sharp, probing, loaded.
Max, to his credit, didn’t flinch. He was seated in the corner armchair like he owned it. Unbothered. Or pretending to be. When Charles finally stopped pacing, it was like a storm went still.
“I need to ask something.” he said, low and tight.
“Ask.” Max glanced up.
“What did you say to her on the balcony?” Charles pointed at him, finger trembling just slightly.
“Who?” Max blinked.
“My sister.”
Lando sat up straighter, eyes flicking between them.
George let out a quiet: “Oh boy.”
Max held Charles’s gaze without blinking.
“We talked.”
“About what?” Charles snapped. “Because ever since that night, she’s been... off. Distant. Like she’s pulling away from everything.”
“She needed to talk.” Max replied simply, like that should be enough.
“She needed to talk and you decided to play the therapist?” Charles's voice cracked. “You said something that made her give up.”
“I didn’t say anything she didn’t already know.” Max leaned back a little.
“That’s not your job!” Charles exploded, voice rising as he gestured wildly. “You don’t get to push her over the edge just because you think you know best!”
“She wasn’t over the edge,” Max shot back, voice like a steel trap. “She was stuck in place, Charles. I gave her a talk. That’s all.”
“She doesn’t need a talk, Max. She needs–”
“What?” Max cut in, brow finally lifting. “Oscar to grow a spine?”
Charles looked like he was about to explode and collapse at the same time.
“She was trying!” Charles said, quieter now, as if it hurt. “She kept waiting for him. She waited until it started hurting more than it was worth. And you–” He pointed again, but this time it dropped halfway. “You confirmed it. That he was scared. That he wasn’t going to do anything.”
Max exhaled through his nose.
“I told her she had to decide. Look, the girl deserves something real. And if Oscar can’t give it to her, then yeah, maybe she should stop waiting.”
Lando stood.
“Okay, okay, okay. Let’s not kill each other over Oscar Piastri’s inability to make a move.”
“Lando–” Charles started.
“No, listen.” Lando said, arms raised. “You’re both right. Max has the emotional range of a hammer, but he doesn’t lie. And Charles, you’re spiraling, because for the first time in your life, your sister isn’t telling you everything.”
“I noticed she’s not telling anyone anything.” George muttered. “She didn’t even congratulate me on my win last week. I was alarmed.”
Charles dropped onto the couch like someone had pulled the air out of him.
“I just…” he dragged a hand through his hair. “I thought we were getting close. I thought something was going to happen. And now she’s avoiding him. He’s avoiding me. And it’s like they both gave up without even saying goodbye.”
Max stared at the Ferrari driver with reassuring eyes.
“They haven’t given up.”
“You sure?” Charles snapped.
“Yes.” Max said simply. “Because if she had? She wouldn’t run away.”
Lando sat back down, expression unusually soft.
“So what do we do?”
George leaned forward, tapping his fingers on the table.
“We go nuclear.” George, grave as ever, lifted his coffee mug. “Jealousy.”
“We already talked about this.” Charles frowned.
“And now I’m serious about it.” George set the cup down. “We need Oscar to feel like he’s losing her. Really losing her. Not just ‘oh no she’s a little distant.’ I mean shit-she-might-love-someone-else losing her.”
“Fake boyfriend?” Lando grinned slowly.
“Fake interest.” George corrected. “Someone charming.”
“I’m charming. I can be charming.” Lando raised his hand.
Charles gave him a dead-eyed look.
“You don’t know how to flirt without making it look like you’re trying to sleep with someone.”
“I do!” Lando insisted. “I can be soft. I can be casual. I can be…” He dropped his voice and turned to Max with a raised eyebrow. “‘Hey, you look nice today, by the way. Is that a new ring?’”
“That’s disgusting.” Max tilted his head.
“Exactly.” Charles muttered. “And if you touch her once–”
“Relax, boring Leclerc. I’ll be respectful. Sweet.” Lando lifted both palms.
“We all agree, then?” George asked, scanning the eyes around him.
“Oscar’s going to implode.” Max stated, with a careful smirk on his lips.
❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀
You weren’t sure what was going on. Lando was… different today.
It started small, with your bracelet.
You were seated in the paddock alone, at a table, waiting for Charles to be done with the press, idly fiddling with the silver chain around your wrist. You always did when you were thinking too much. It was second nature, muscle memory.
“You’ve had that one for ages.” Lando said as he dropped into the seat next to you, like he belonged there.
You blinked, glanced at him.
“What?”
“The bracelet.” he clarified, gesturing toward your wrist. “It’s cute. Suits you.”
You furrowed your brow, then smiled, the automatic kind you gave when someone said something strange but harmless.
“You noticed that?”
“I notice a lot.” He shrugged, grinning.
You didn’t get the chance to respond, because across the room, you caught a flicker of movement. Oscar. He was kneeling to tie his boots, gaze locked on his laces, except, for the briefest second, his hands stilled, froze, then resumed, slower than before.
Your fingers dropped from the bracelet. You brushed it off.
A little later, it was the hoodie.
There was a slight chill in the air as the clouds rolled over the paddock, and you crossed your arms in a weak attempt to preserve heat. Without a word, Lando peeled off his McLaren hoodie and held it out.
“Seriously?” You blinked.
He gave you a crooked little smile.
“You’re cold. I’m being generous.”
You hesitated. You shouldn’t have, but you took it, warm and oversized and freshly laundered. It smelled faintly of cologne and something distinctly Lando. You folded your arms, tucked your hands into the sleeves.
You felt someone pass behind you, just out of view. Oscar. You didn’t have to turn. You knew it was him by the sound of his footfall, the heaviness of it. You knew it was him by the way the air shifted, thickened. You didn’t look. But he didn’t look at you either. He walked right past.
You tried to forget about it. About all of it.
You were standing near the grid later that afternoon, talking to George about some PR nightmare he was trying to avoid, laughing at the way he described his overzealous management team, when Lando appeared again, this time, with a story.
He launched into it, some ridiculous tale involving a karting accident and a stray seagull, animated and loud and far too enthusiastic. You laughed. You couldn’t help it. You giggled into your hand and shook your head and said:
“You’re such an idiot.”
That was when he did it. Reached out and brushed your hair behind your ear. It was so quick. So soft. Like it was normal. Like you were someone he was allowed to touch.
“The wind’s messing with your hair,” he said, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Your breath caught. You turned your head slightly and caught Oscar standing a few feet away, talking to one of the McLaren comms girls. His body was turned toward her. But his eyes, those didn’t match. They were on you. You opened your mouth, but he turned before you could say anything.
The worst part was during afternoon coffee.
Lando had made a stupid joke, something about the media pen being just like the Hunger Games and you laughed again. Out of habit, out of nerves, out of the warmth still stuck to your skin.
“You laugh at everything I say,” Lando teased, bumping your shoulder gently. “You’re going to make me think I’m funny.”
“You’re barely funny.” you said, rolling your eyes.
“Don’t lie, I know I’m your favorite.” he replied, dropping his voice, a smile ghosting across his lips.
You froze for half a second. It was harmless, it was a joke. You knew that.
Across the table, Oscar’s fork scraped so hard against his plate it made you flinch. He didn’t look up.
Later, there was a photo being taken with some of the McLaren staff. You were pulled into it last-minute, laughing, stumbling into place. Lando stepped behind you and rested a hand lightly on your waist. He didn’t move it after the photo, not right away.
“Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable.” he murmured, voice low and private.
“You’re not.”
He squeezed lightly, then dropped his hand. You didn’t look around. But you didn’t have to. You could feel Oscar’s eyes on your back.
The last straw came as you were scrolling through your phone, head down, mind elsewhere, when Lando appeared beside you like a shadow.
“You look good today.” he said quietly.
“What?” You looked up, startled.
He offered a small, almost sincere smile.
“Just thought you should know.”
You didn’t know what to say, so you didn’t say anything.
When your eyes flicked toward the walkway ten feet away, Oscar was standing there. Still. Frozen. Looking at you like he didn’t know who you were anymore. He didn’t speak, but the way his mouth was set, the way his fists were clenched inside his hoodie sleeves, the way he turned and walked away again… That said everything.
The flirting didn’t stop. It only got worse, or better, depending on who was watching.
Lando had this way of timing it perfectly. Never too obvious. Never enough to warrant scolding. Just small things. A hand on your back when you entered the garage. A quiet “you look stunning today” when no one else was around. A glance across the media pen that lingered a little too long. He started finding reasons to stand beside you, brush against you, compliment your voice, your earrings, your laugh. Always subtle. Always soft. Always where Oscar could see.
You tried to laugh it off. At first, you thought it was just Lando being Lando: dramatic, theatrical, always in search of an audience. But it started to feel calculated. Intentional. Like he was pushing something.
And the worst part? You leaned into it too. To see if Oscar would do anything, say anything. Look at you the way he used to, before everything grew quiet between you. But he didn’t. He just watched. Always watching. Like a tether was snapping inside him thread by thread. He went still in rooms he used to fill with quiet sarcasm, stopped smiling at your jokes, and started avoiding Charles entirely. It was like every part of him had gone inward, locked up, frozen, breath held behind his ribs.
You were waiting for him to break. You just didn’t expect it to happen at Lando’s house.
The dinner was supposed to be casual.
A week off in Monaco. Sunlight off the yachts, breeze from the water, lazy laughter echoing down the stone alleys. Lando had invited a small group, just the usual drivers and their respective partners. Charles. George. Max. Carlos. Alex. Everyone clean-shaven and sun-kissed, wine glasses already half-full before you even sat down.
You arrived in a soft summer dress, hair pinned up, smiling politely as you took the empty seat beside Lando. Oscar was already there, across the table, two seats down, eyes locked on his plate. You felt it the moment you sat, the shift in the air, the heat of Lando beside you, the silence of Oscar across from you.
Dinner passed slowly, in courses and clinks and bursts of laughter. Carlos was teasing George about his padel performance. Max made a deadpan comment about Lando’s wine tasting skills. You smiled, laughed at the right moments, but your body was tight. You were aware of every movement, every breath.
And then Lando did it. In the middle of a story – something George was saying about spa weekends and parasailing – Lando leaned in, reached out and gently, with two fingers, tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. It was featherlight, innocent, almost, but deliberate.
You felt the room shift like gravity had been tampered with. The conversation carried on, but the rhythm changed. Oscar didn’t move, but his fork had stopped halfway to his mouth. He set it down without a sound.
Lando didn’t stop.
At one point, you leaned forward to grab a piece of bread from the center of the table and he slipped his hand behind your chair. Casual, warm, resting lightly between your shoulder blades. His thumb moved once, barely a touch, but your skin flared hot beneath it.
A little later, you were laughing again – this time at something Alex said about George’s inability to drive a Vespa – when you nearly choked on your wine. A cough escaped your throat, light but embarrassing.
“Careful, baby, you’ll spill it on that pretty dress.” Lando murmured, voice low, teasing.
You froze.
Across the table, Oscar’s entire body tensed like a wire pulled taut. His shoulders went rigid. His eyes burned into Lando’s face with something cold, quiet, explosive. And then, calm as ever, like it had been simmering for days, Oscar spoke.
“Do you guys need a room or something?” he asked, low and quiet, voice like a blade.
The entire table froze. Max looked up from his plate, brows raised. Carlos sat back, blinking. George looked like someone had just dropped an F-bomb in a church.
You went completely still.
Oscar wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Lando, dead in the eye, jaw clenched, fists curled under the table. And Lando? Lando just took a sip of wine, slow and unbothered.
Oscar pushed back from his chair. The scrape was sharp against the stone floor. He stood, fists tight at his sides, and for the first time all evening, he looked at you. Which made your breath get lost. There it was, everything he didn’t say. Everything he swallowed. The wanting, the hurt, the jealousy.
“Can I talk to you outside?” His voice was tight, hoarse, almost breaking.
You didn’t even realize you were holding your breath until you nodded and rose from your seat, slowly, carefully.
The night was warm as you followed him through the open glass doors and into the dark. The air outside was cooler than expected. The Monaco night wrapped around you, smelling faintly of salt and wine and summer heat still clinging to the stone balcony beneath your feet.
You stood with your back to the railing, fingers gripping it lightly like you needed something solid. Oscar was pacing in front of you, back and forth in short, sharp bursts like he didn’t trust himself to stand still.
Neither of you spoke right away. You could still hear faint laughter through the open doors, the clink of glasses behind you, but out here, it felt like another world entirely.
“Are you and Lando…” Oscar began, voice rough, running a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Are you two dating?”
“What?” You blinked.
His eyes locked on yours.
“Just answer.”
“No!” you said instantly. “Of course not.”
He breathed out, sharp and fast, but it didn’t sound like relief. It sounded like he didn’t know what to do with that answer.
“Then what was all of that tonight?” he asked, gesturing vaguely toward the room behind you. “And before. All week. He doesn’t look at anyone like that. He doesn’t act like that unless—”
You cut him off, softer.
“I don’t know. He just started being… weird. Flirty. I thought maybe he was bored or messing around or…” You trailed off, brow furrowing. “I didn’t flirt back.”
Oscar was staring at you, hands still curled into fists at his sides, like holding them still might keep the rest of him from breaking apart.
“I hated it. Every time he touched you, every time he said something, it felt like I was choking.”
Your breath caught.
He looked away, then back.
“I didn’t know it would feel like that. I’ve been trying to keep my distance, I’ve been trying not to mess anything up with Charles or with you but…” He stopped again, jaw tight. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being his.”
You allowed him to step closer, but the simple move made you stop breathing.
“I’ve liked you for so long I don’t even remember when it started.” he continued, barely above a whisper now. “It’s not just a crush. It’s not just a thing. I look for you everywhere, even when I’m trying not to. I—” He cut himself off, teeth clenched. “God, I sound pathetic.”
You were silent. Not because you didn’t know what to say, but because something inside you was unraveling, cell by cell. Your throat was tight, your chest ached with how long you’d been waiting to hear those words.
He ran a hand down his face, then looked at you again, like he couldn’t bear not to.
“I know I messed it up.” he said.
“You didn’t mess it up.” You shook your head, softly. “I would never be with Lando, because I’m in love with you.” you said, voice steady despite your heart hammering against your ribs.
Oscar exhaled, a broken, uneven sound, and stepped toward you like he couldn’t stop himself. His hands were hesitant when they reached for your face. One cupped your cheek, warm and shaking just slightly, like he couldn’t believe this was real. His eyes flicked between yours, searching, asking, waiting…
You didn’t make him wait any longer. You leaned in first, barely, and that was all he needed. His lips found yours in a kiss that felt like letting go of something you were holding too tightly for too long. It was soft, trembling, the kind of kiss that tasted like nerves and truth and every stolen glance that had led to this. He kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop. Like you were the first breath after drowning.
When you pulled back, just enough to rest your forehead against his, his hands didn’t leave your face.
The kiss lingered. Not on your lips, but in the space around you, in the weight of Oscar’s hands on your face, the way his breath still brushed your cheek. The world had narrowed down to that quiet little balcony and the hum of your heart finally being held out in the open.
Which is exactly when the door swung open.
You jumped apart like guilty teenagers caught past curfew. Oscar stumbled back a step, cheeks flushed, lips still pink.
Charles was there, the expression of someone who was a little shocked. He blinked once, then smiled from ear to ear.
“Enfin. Finally.” He threw his hands up like this had been a months-long nightmare and he could finally sleep again.
Your stomach dropped.
“Charles…”
He waved you off, exasperated but not surprised.
“No, no. I don’t want the details. I do not want to know where your hands were, or for how long, or if it was romantic.”
“I didn’t—” Oscar winced.
Charles ignored him completely, stepped closer and pointed a finger right at his chest.
“But if you break her heart, Oscar…” He tilted his head, voice soft and dangerous, “I will break your legs. Both of them.”
Oscar, to his credit, nodded solemnly like he had just been knighted and threatened in the same breath.
“Understood.”
You tried not to laugh, but couldn’t keep a stupid smile off your lips.
The drivers were already waiting when the two of you walked back into the house, flushed, breathless, trying to act like the air between you hadn’t just shifted on a cellular level. They weren’t even pretending to be subtle about it.
George was sprawled dramatically across the sofa like a man who had just given birth to the conclusion of a six-month operation. One arm tossed over his face, the other extended across the cushions, eyes closed in exaggerated bliss. Max leaned back in the corner armchair, sipping dark liquor like a Bond villain watching his plan succeed from a distance. And Lando looked like Christmas had come early and he had personally delivered every present under the tree.
“I told you the dinner party would break him.” George announced proudly, like he was accepting an Oscar for Best Screenplay.
Max nodded once, deadpan.
“Jealousy is very efficient.”
You blinked, confused. Still holding onto Oscar’s hand from outside, your voice barely rose above the warmth in your chest.
“Wait, what?”
Charles collapsed into an armchair with a dramatic groan, dragging a hand down his face.
“Oh, merci, finally. Please, tell her. I’m too tired to relive it again.”
“Oh, we will. Sit. You need context.” George sat up eagerly, eyes sparkling.
And they gave it to you. All of it. In detail.
The fake simulator challenge. The suspiciously timed “lock-in” at McLaren. The blind date that wasn’t a blind date. The painfully awkward fake party where you both were tricked into thinking the other had begged to see you. The shoulder touches, the hair behind your ear, the carefully orchestrated “sweetheart” bomb dropped mid-dinner. The Monaco seating chart. It was all part of the plan.
Your jaw slowly dropped as each detail was revealed like a deeply unserious mystery novel. You turned to look at Oscar beside you, but he already had his face buried in his hands.
“Operation: Get Piastri and Little Leclerc Laid.” George announced triumphantly, raising his wine glass like a man who had seen his vision come to life.
“That was the name?” You gaped at him.
“Unofficially.” Lando clarified, barely holding back laughter.
“It had subchapters.” Max added with a sip. “And contingencies.”
“I hate all of you.” Oscar mumbled through his hands.
“Not as much as we hated watching you two pine like an Austen novel with no ending,” Charles said, eyes closed, finally looking at peace for the first time in weeks.
“You’re welcome.” Lando added, shooting you a wink.
Laughter started to build, slow and hesitant at first, then brighter. George began retelling the simulator story in excruciating dramatic detail. Carlos appeared from the kitchen with a tray of chocolate and absolutely no idea what was happening. Someone opened another bottle of wine.
The heat of earlier melted into something softer, easier. You stayed where you were, curled on the couch now, not across the room or beside someone else. Oscar sat next to you, thighs pressed together in a way that felt accidental but wasn’t. The nervous electricity had given way to something new.
This time, you didn’t move. Instead, you reached down, quietly, without making it a thing, and hooked your pinky around his. Oscar stilled. His smile was soft, a little crooked and full of something that made your throat feel too tight. But it wasn’t shy anymore.
You were finally on the same page and he wasn’t letting go.
The dinner party slowly faded into that soft lull that always comes after something breaks open. The wine thinned. People drifted into different corners of the house. Lando turned on some terrible playlist.
Oscar, at some point, turned to whisper in your ear, quiet, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.
“Do you want to come back to mine?”
You nodded, softly, and took his hand in yours as you slipped out the door together, quiet and unnoticed, into the soft Monaco night.
The streets were calm, the air cooler now, brushing against your cheeks like velvet. He drove with one hand on the wheel, the other in yours the entire ride home. Neither of you spoke much. There wasn’t a need to fill the silence. The closeness did all the speaking for you.
His apartment was quiet. A pair of shoes by the door, a jacket thrown over the back of the couch. The city glittered beyond the glass windows like it didn’t dare interrupt. Finally, it was just the two of you. No more plans.
You hadn’t meant to stay the night. That was never the plan. But plans had a way of unraveling around Oscar – or maybe, more honestly, with Oscar. The second your hand found his on the way out of Lando’s dinner, everything slowed. The world stopped spinning quite so loud. And when he asked – quietly, unsure, boyish – if you wanted to come back to his place just for a bit, you didn’t even pretend to hesitate.
You ended up sitting on the floor of his living room, backs against the couch, legs stretched out and overlapping a little. His hair was messy again. You never realized how soft he looked without tension in his jaw, or how often he stared at you now without looking away.
“This is better than any fake blind date.”
Oscar laughed, head tilted back against the couch cushion.
“Still can’t believe Charles pulled that off.”
“You can’t believe it? I thought I was being set up with one of his French lawyer friends.”
“Honestly, could’ve been worse.”
“Could’ve been Max.” You snorted.
He looked at you, wide-eyed.
“That would’ve been a nightmare.”
You laughed again, but quieter this time. Your hand slid toward his across the floor. He didn’t wait this time, he met you there, fingers twined. No pinky. All of it. He was warm beside you, radiating light.
“Can I take you on a real date?”
“What do you think this is?” You turned your head.
He shook his head, smiling like he was embarrassed.
“I mean one I planned. One where I get to pick you up and act like I haven’t been in love with you since last year.”
He looked at you then, fully, with everything. No nerves. Just him. Open, honest, still boyish, still unsure, but no longer running from the thing that lived between you.
“I want to take you places. I want to sit across from you and not pretend I don’t want to hold your hand. I want to kiss you without checking if someone’s watching. I want to…” He stopped, searching for it. “Be yours. Properly. If you’ll let me.”
Your chest cracked open and with every word, every nervous pause, it healed itself at the same time. You leaned in, pressed your lips to his like the answer had always been waiting on your tongue.
“Yes.” you whispered against his mouth. “Take me everywhere.”
He smiled into the kiss. Broke it just long enough to rest his forehead to yours.
“Starting with breakfast.” he murmured. “Tomorrow morning.”
You laughed, eyes still closed.
“I like really strong coffee.”
He chuckled softly, that low, quiet laugh of his that you always felt more than heard. The kind that hummed through your chest when he was close like this.
“I’ll make it strong enough to knock you out.” he murmured.
You leaned into his hand, eyes still closed, heart fluttering somewhere near your ribs.
“That’s not how coffee works.”
He shrugged, grinning softly.
“I’m learning.”
You opened your eyes to find him already watching you, eyes soft, sleepy, filled with something close to awe. It didn’t scare you anymore, the way he looked at you. Not now. Not when you could finally look back without pretending it didn’t mean anything.
You kissed him again, a soft, quick peck to the corner of his mouth.
Then he stood, still holding your hand, and pulled you gently to your feet like it was instinct. Neither of you said much as he turned off the lights. There was no need to. You followed him down the hallway, barefoot on cool floors, the city stretching silently outside the windows.
His room smelled like cedar. His hoodie laid draped over the back of a chair. A photo of his family sat on the nightstand beside a phone charger and a watch. It was so normal it made your chest ache.
Oscar pulled back the sheets like he imagined this before. Like he already knew how you liked your pillow fluffed, how you preferred the left side of the bed, how your hair would spill across his t-shirt when he handed it to you to sleep in. And you took it all in like a photograph you’d want to memorize. You slid beneath the covers beside him, skin warm against skin, your back curved gently into his chest. His arm found your waist, your fingers found his, and your heartbeat slowed to match his. The silence stretched.
“I should’ve told you sooner.” he whispered into your shoulder.
You smiled, eyes already falling closed.
“What’s the fun in that?” you murmured.
A soft hum of agreement. Then nothing but his breathing, steady and calm.
The lights went off and there you were, his fingers tracing light circles at the base of your spine, his heartbeat steady. And when he whispered goodnight it felt like the full stop at the end of a long sentence you'd both been writing in silence for far too long.
You fell asleep like that. In the dark. In his arms. In love.
#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#f1 writing#f1#lando norris#max verstappen#oscar piastri fic#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri x reader#charles leclerc#george russell#op81 x reader#op81
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Vi x reader
«Sexting»
18+
It was entirely your fault.
You knew Vi was at the gym. You knew Vi would be sweaty, serious, locked into her kickboxing drills—focused, stoic and unreadable Vi. And yet, you couldn’t resist. You sprawled across your bed, phone in hand, and typed out the filthiest thought that had been circling your head all day.
"Hey, handsome. Thinking about how good your fingers feel inside me."
Send.
The second the message left your screen, you buried your face in your pillow. Your cheeks burned, but the thrill of knowing Vi was going to read it made you giggle like a little psycho.
Vi’s reply came almost instantly:
"Babe. I’m in the middle of practice."
You could picture it perfectly—Vi sitting on the bench, staring at her phone with that deadly flat expression that meant she was trying really hard not to react.
Which only made you worse.
"Bet you’re picturing it now. My legs open, waiting for you."
Your heart raced as you grinned at the glowing screen. The three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
“Gotcha,” you whispered to yourself, smug. You knew Vi too well—your girl wouldn’t be able to concentrate on a damn thing after this.
You were still basking in your victory when your phone buzzed again. You unlocked it, expecting another annoyed 'Babe, stop'.
Instead, Vi snapped.
"You want me to fuck you so bad, baby? I’ll make you beg for it when I’m done here".
You sat up straight, mouth falling open, heart pounding so loud you swore you could hear it in your ears. Another text arrived before you could breathe:
"I’ll have you on your knees the second I get to your place. Think about how hard you’ll be shaking when I pull my strap out."
You squealed into your palms, kicking the blanket like some lovesick teenager. You tried to type something clever, something that would give you back control, but your thumbs shook as you wrote:
"Oh yeah? You’re all sweaty right now, aren’t you? Maybe I’ll make you beg first".
You hit send, proud of the cocky tone—until Vi’s reply came fast, sharp, and devastating:
"Bold words for my girl who moans the second I put my mouth on her. Keep teasing me, and see what happens."
You groaned, dropping your phone onto your chest. You were already in trouble. You knew Vi would win this, but your pride refused to let you back down.
"You’re full of shit. I can handle you".
The three dots blinked, taunting you. Then:
"Handle me? Baby, you can barely handle my fingers. You think you can take my strap rough again without crying for me?"
Heat shot through your body at once. Your thighs clenched around nothing, your teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek to stop a humiliating sound from slipping out.
You typed back quickly, desperate:
"Fuck you. I didn’t cry."
Vi’s reply came instantly, as if she’d been waiting:
"Yeah, you did. Sweetest little whimpers. I still hear them in my head when I jerk off to you."
Your hand flew to your mouth. Your face flamed, your whole body tight with embarrassment and arousal. Vi had just texted that so casually, like it was nothing. Like she didn’t know she was absolutely ruining you.
"Vi," you sent back—just her name, because it was all you could manage.
Vi didn’t let you breathe.
"Touching yourself already, baby? Bet you are. Bet you’ve got your hand down those little boxers, thinking about me pinning you down."
You glanced down at yourself—sprawled on the bed, phone on your chest—and, yeah, your hand was already tugging at your waistband like you were hypnotized.
Another buzz:
"Tell me you’re wet."
You hesitated, biting your lip, before typing back:
"I’m wet."
The response was immediate.
"Good girl. Don’t touch yet. I want you squirming until I get there."
You flopped back against your pillow with a groan, kicking your legs helplessly. Vi knew exactly what she was doing.
When you didn’t reply quickly enough, another message appeared:
"Baby, you’re mine. You don’t come until I’m the one making you."
You already felt wrecked—and Vi wasn’t even in the room.
𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟
#vi x masc/butch!reader#vi x butch!reader#vi x masc!reader#vi arcane#vi x reader#vi x you#vi fic#vi fanfic#vi arcane smut#vi x reader smut#arcane smut#vi smut#lesbian#lesbian nsft#sonne's writings 🍂
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Unhinged
WandaNat x Autistic!Fem!Reader (Wanda is not in this part)
CW: shouting, intense argument, grief/death mention, threats of violence, attempted aggression, restraint
Notes: This is scene from the next chapter of “The Stones will remember” that I felt I no longer wanted to include, because bugs reactions she just isn’t at that stage where she’d be able to flip out like that in front of Natasha not yet. So enjoy this little cut scene 🎬
Hurrying out of your room, you threw your lilac bag ontop of the other one, zipping it shut with ease before storming back along the hall towards George “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!” you screeched, the words slipping from your mouth before you could stop them, clinging to your lips, the anger inside you boiling like hot lava, holding up the material you’d found on the floor only moments ago.
“Bug come on lets go,” Natasha’s hand on your shoulder did nothing to comfort you this time. Her voice attempting to pull you away from the fight brewing in the pit of your stomach.
“No.” You shrugged your shoulder, forcing Natasha’s hand off your shoulder and for the moment all she could or would do was watch, waiting in suspense for what was inevitably coming next, “George, my Nanny gave me these, the last gift she gave me before she died—and you—I’m going to fucking kill you—” you had never felt so much rage before, nothing at all in the way you did in this moment.
It was weird. You hated confontation so much, you hated shouting, it made you feel sick to your stomach and yet somehow you could not control yourself not with this, not when he took something from you, something from the only person who had given a damn about you, and it was all boiling over like water in a pan, simmering for too long on a high heat. You were bound to explode. “I’m going to wipe that smug grin right of your miserable little face!”
You’re not even sure how it happened, because in the next second you were launching yourself at him, hands out, ready to attack like a bear protecting her babies—but Natasha caught you before you could get to him, her hands wrapping around your stomach, pulling you away, even as you struggle to get to him. Natasha’s strength though was far more than yours ever was, or would be. Even so your legs continue to flail, your fingers reaching down to her hands, trying to push your fingers under her palm to remove her hands from your stomach, but it was no use. Your stomach twisting with anger as you tried to move yourself forward, pushing, pulling in every direction against Natasha’s hold—but Natasha was dragging you away and out into the corridor away from George’s snivelling little face. “Bug! That is enough!”
You hit the floor with a thud, your feet keeping you upright, face hot with rage. Natasha’s hands griping your shoulders and then George decided this would be the perfect moment to speak up. He always knew when his words would cut you the deepest and which words to use.
“She’s unhinged.” He growled, running his mucky hands through his black greasy hair, watching you over Natasha’s shoulder. His dark eyes narrowing in on you, like he was watching to see if he was close to breaking you.
“Your lucky I didn’t let her hit you.” Natasha muttered under her breath, keeping her eyes solely on you. No distraction, like nothing else in the world mattered to her except you.
The rage that had taken over your body only moments ago had now gone, like the dust settling after a storm. You had been a tornado roaring through the earth that was George, before bing pulled away and vanishing into the quiet, leaving behind a destruction known as guilt.
“Bug, look at me!” you barely heard her voice, but the sudden grip on your chin pulled you back. Your eyes widening as Natasha’s fingers tilted your chin up, so your gaze met hers “that is enough sweetheart. Go get your bags, go down to the car and get in. I’ll be down in just a moment. Call Wanda let her know we’re on our way okay?”
You nodded, you bottom lip wobbling “I—I’m sorry.” you finally managed to muster, letting the words escape your dry lip, landing between you and Natasha like a pin in your skin. Your fingers trailed along the hem of your hoodie, feeling each grove that had been sewed into the fabric. The small bumps grounding you to the now.
“Hey, no, it’s okay. But you do not let him get to you like that. Not ever.” Natasha pulled her scarlet phone from her pocket, pushing it into your hand, and you gripped it with a sudden urgency. “Wanda is on speed dial one. Now go call her, whilst I stay here for a moment okay? I’ll be right down. Go on.” Natasha tapped the side of your cheek gently, encouraging you to leave, watching you as you grabbed your bags.
You hovered by the door for a minute, keys balanced over your pinky finger, and the lilac bag in the same hand, your winnie the pooh bag in the other with Natasha’s phone some how balanced between your fingers there. Natasha nodded in your direction. You hesitated before turning away, steeping outside the apartment, you hovered as the door closed on you, trying to see if you could hear the conversation Natasha was about to have with George, but she was too to good to allow you to hear a single word. But you knew one thing, you definitely would not want to be George right now.
#wandanat x autistic!fem!reader#natasha romanoff x you#wanda and natasha#wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x wanda maximoff#wanda x natasha#natasha x wanda#natasha x reader#natasha romanoff x reader#natasha romanov#natasha romanoff#natasha romanoff x autistic!fem!reader
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Who’s your favorite character? Charles
Do you have a least favorite character? Paul Rowland
Which ship is your favorite? Payneland is my favorite. Although definitely also have a soft spot for Mishi (shoutout to @arrow-jsy for dragging me into this)
What’s your favorite episode? It might be The Case of Crystal Palace, I love their setting up of the show
What’s your favorite scene? Theres so many I’m torn between, but at this moment, I’m wanting to say “But you, Charles Rowland, are the best person I know”. It’s just so precious to me
Which costume in the show is your favorite? I really like Jenny’s outfit when she follows Crystal to confront David, and Charles’ outfit with the white tank top
What’s your favorite transition effect in the show? It’s a tough choice but I think the mirror jump with Edwin from episode 1
What’s your favorite headcanon? There’s so many that I love. One of them being that the Infamous Puppy Debacle was about a hellhound. Another one being adhd Charles and autistic Edwin.
Do you have a favorite fanfic? (Or a few you want to shoutout) My Life Ended When They Called Your Name by @genevievefangirl , The Manuscript Of Real People by @paraphwrites , and the Royal Pain(e) series by @handwrittenhello
Would you rather watch Scooby Doo with Niko and Edwin, or play Clue with Edwin and Charles? I do love Scooby Doo, but I think I’m gonna have to go with Clue
Would you rather be a cat, or a crow? A kitty. I’d love to be a cat. Although the ability to fly is tempting
Would you rather have Charles’ bag of tricks backpack or have the ability to mirror travel? There’s definitely pros of both, being able to jump through a mirror out of awkward social situations is tempting, but the backpack is so fun, and maybe I could set up a cozy nook to exist in inside the bag
Would you rather be ripped apart one (1) time by the baby doll spider demon (after which, you would be brought back to life in whatever quality of health you were in before this happened), or have you live with the dandelion sprites in your room for the rest of your life? I’m terrified of spiders, but I’d rather be ripped apart once by the spiders than deal with the sprites’ insults for the rest of my life
If you could pick a pin (or pins) to add to Charles’ jacket, what would the pin(s) be? The little pride ghostie in the bi flag colors as a pin. And maybe one he makes with their agency logo on it.
What would Edwin’s absolute least favorite social media platform would be? Maybe TikTok? I’m gonna go with Twitter though
Who is Niko’s favorite member of the Scooby Gang? Honestly, I feel like she’s got different aspects she likes of all of them. Maybe Daphne as her favorite though, I think she’d like Daphne and some of the emotional understanding she has sometimes.
Which card would Crystal be in a tarot deck?
What would Monty’s favorite trinkets to be collect be? I feel like he’d love shiny rocks. I don’t know why, I just feel like he’s built to love random cool-looking rocks
If he tried swimming in his human form, would Mick enjoy it, hate it, or just find it bittersweet? I think he’d be very hesitant to try it, he’d have a little time where he enjoys it, and then just sinks into a bittersweet feeling of he likes the water but it’s not quite right, it’s not home how it should be, and that’s painful
Would the Cat King (in human form) chase a laser pointer? Oh absolutely. He’d thoroughly deny it if anyone found out, but he’d absolutely do it for at least a few seconds before he could stop himself. And then he’d keep up chasing it with his eyes, even once he got himself to stay still.
What was Jenny’s first tattoo? My theory is a black line-work tattoo of a sword through a skull
What type of music would Kashi listen to? I think he could get into enjoying pretty much any song. If he ever made a playlist, it would be the oddest mix of every genre you can think of, but would oddly work.
Would the Night Nurse ever answer to the name Charlie? I think no. It’s a nice idea, but it just doesn’t feel like it fits to me.
Did Esther name her giant snake? If so, what’s its name? I wish she named the snake, but I don’t know what she would’ve named it.
Which character do you relate to most? Charles (blame my father and the fact that red is such a good color)
What’s a song (that wasn’t in the show) that reminds you of the show? You’re My Best Friend by Queen. It’s just so Payneland to me
Which scene made you the saddest? The Charles flashbacks. They beat me to death every time
Which detail in the show do you wish they expanded more on? The ghost animals. We see them for like 3 seconds, I would’ve loved a case with them. Or a flashback episode of one of the old cases they mention, I’d have loved that so much
Do you think Esther and the Cat King are exes? Oh absolutely. Maybe it wasn’t a full on relationship, but something definitely happened. Is ‘situationship’ the term?
Have you ever been jumpscared by Owner Of A Lonely Heart in the wild? Yup. The radio attacks me with it on a near-weekly basis when I’m visiting my dad
When did you first watch the show? A year and a couple months ago
Have you gotten anyone else to watch the show? If so, how did that go? My dad started watching the show and texted me while he watched it to ask me if Edwin and Charles were brothers. So that was… wow.
Do you have any funny stories related to the show? So many funny stories from the Discord server. The origin of The Goo is one that’s particularly fun though
What’s your favorite thing about this fandom? The people. There’s so many great people here that are so amazing to talk to. I’ve made a lot of wonderful friends in a Discord server for this fandom.
Any self-promo you want to do? I write fanfic on ao3 with the username Dead_but_still_sarcastic. I’ve got several fics over there, including but not limited to: a Knight-Charles/Magic-Edwin au, a oneshot alive au where Payneland goes to the photo-booth together, an angsty Edwin hell fic, and a trans Charles fic
And finally, have you heard of The Goo? Yes, many times. The Goo is very important
The case of the 36 questions
For the 1 year anniversary of the show being canceled, I’ve put together a list of 36 questions (one for each year Edwin and Charles have known each other) about the show that you all can hopefully have fun answering. I know I love talking about the show, so I thought yall might enjoy a list of questions to use for an excuse to talk about it. You can answer all of them, you can answer some of them, you can let people pick numbers for questions to ask you, whatever you like. Just have fun with it.
Who’s your favorite character?
Do you have a least favorite character?
Which ship is your favorite?
What’s your favorite episode?
What’s your favorite scene?
Which costume in the show is your favorite?
What’s your favorite transition effect in the show?
What’s your favorite headcanon?
Do you have a favorite fanfic? (Or a few you want to shoutout)
Would you rather watch Scooby Doo with Niko and Edwin, or play Clue with Edwin and Charles?
Would you rather be a cat, or a crow?
Would you rather have Charles’ bag of tricks backpack or have the ability to mirror travel?
Would you rather be ripped apart one (1) time by the baby doll spider demon (after which, you would be brought back to life in whatever quality of health you were in before this happened), or have you live with the dandelion sprites in your room for the rest of your life?
If you could pick a pin (or pins) to add to Charles’ jacket, what would the pin(s) be?
What would Edwin’s absolute least favorite social media platform would be?
Who is Niko’s favorite member of the Scooby Gang?
Which card would Crystal be in a tarot deck?
What would Monty’s favorite trinkets to be collect be?
If he tried swimming in his human form, would Mick enjoy it, hate it, or just find it bittersweet?
Would the Cat King (in human form) chase a laser pointer?
What was Jenny’s first tattoo?
What type of music would Kashi listen to?
Would the Night Nurse ever answer to the name Charlie?
Did Esther name her giant snake? If so, what’s it’s name?
Which character do you relate to most?
What’s a song (that wasn’t in the show) that reminds you of the show?
Which scene made you the saddest?
Which detail in the show do you wish they expanded more on?
Do you think Esther and the Cat King are exes?
Have you ever been jumpscared by Owner Of A Lonely Heart in the wild?
When did you first watch the show?
Have you gotten anyone else to watch the show? If so, how did that go?
Do you have any funny stories related to the show?
What’s your favorite thing about this fandom?
Any self-promo you want to do?
And finally, have you heard of The Goo?
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The Hunter and The Witch~ Dean Winchester x f!reader
Description: They finally make the long awaited visit to her brother.
Warnings: fluff, maybe some light angst, banter, dog reveal 😬 (he’s my cute patootie pie). The title is based off of the song of the same name.
Word Count: 2.2k



Half Return
(Masterlist, Prev.Ch)
There are trees as far as you can see and mountains taller than you can conceive. The leaves have turned orange and brown, the air crisp and cool.
“Smile any harder and I think it’ll get stuck like that,” Dean remarks from beside me. I haven’t been able to contain my excitement since he suggested we finally drive up to see my brother.
I don’t know what made him think of it, maybe it has to do with him saying I can have anything I wanted after I helped with his back, or perhaps it’s because he feels bad that Jo cut me—my arm is still bandaged beneath my sleeve. Either way, I won’t complain or question it, though I already made it clear that if he tries to leave me there, I’ll hunt him down.
“Would that be such a bad thing?” I muse, leaning towards him to nudge his side.
He looks over, eyes dropping to my beaming smile, a smirk of his own curling at the corner of his mouth. “No,” he decides, bringing his eyes back to the road.
********
Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we roll up the driveway into a clearing. His house is off to the left, and all on the right side is farmland.
I can see the back of his head from here, crouching in the garden, taking care of the plants. His dog notices us first, floppy brown ears standing up, head tilting side to side. Excitement bubbles to its peak, and I hop out of the car before it can come to a full stop.
The big, light brown dog, recognizing me immediately, runs full speed at me, ears flopping and a large grin on his face.
I crouch down, arms wide and waiting for him. He skids to a stop before he bulldozes me down. Always gentler with me, he curves to the side, putting all 65 pounds of dead weight on me. He pants and licks my face vigorously as if to make up for lost time.
“There’s my boy,” I laugh, brushing my fingers through his sun-warmed fur of golden and brown. “Missed you so much,” I coo, kissing his head and the side of his snoot. “My baby boy.”
“Did you come for Boss or me?” a very familiar voice asks. I look up from the dog, my brother standing there with a warm smile.
People have always told us how much we look alike. My mom used to joke that we could’ve been fraternal twins, though I’m entirely sure that’s an exaggeration.
“Definitely him,” I answer, placing one last kiss on his forehead before standing.
Boss nudges my leg one last time before jumping and circling the Winchesters.
I step into my brother's arms, my head at his chest. His arms encircle me, squeezing me so tightly in the way he does when we haven’t seen each other in a while. He won’t always say he misses me, but I can tell the moment we hug, and it feels like I might crack a rib.
He pulls back, looking over me quickly. “You doing good?” he asks.
“I’m doing perfect,” I nod. “It’s been a bit crazy. You know, a lot is going on, but I’m good.”
He nods, accepting my answer and finally setting me free to greet Sam and Dean with that weird handshake-hug that guys do. Sometimes I forget that they’re friends too, Dean more so, what with them being the same age. But I like this image, the three of them smiling and exchanging pleasantries. Boss watches them too, shaking his tail all the while like he understands.
“Come bring your stuff inside,” my brother announces, waving an arm towards the house. “Maya is inside doing some dishes.”
I completely ignore him, running towards the house to see her instead. I burst through the screen door, Boss at my ankles, stopping short in the kitchen. She looks at me like a deer in headlights, dark-hair pulled back with a bandanna, little bangs sticking out. It registers to her, and she’s shouting with a smile, water flicking at me as she swings her arms out. I hug her tightly; she’s always felt like an older sister and sometimes even like a second mother to me. I swear, the best thing my brother has ever done is marry this girl.
“‘Took you long enough,” she grumbles, playfully.
“It’s been so long, oh my god. There’s so much to catch up on, you have no idea,” I ramble quickly.
She pulls away, keeping me at arm's length, her eyes wide. “Wait. Did you finally—”
“Uh, no,” I cut her off. “Not that.”
“Coward,” she says, pointedly.
“Hey!”
“You’ve been home barely three minutes, and you're already loud enough to wake the neighborhood,” B/n remarks, coming through the door with my duffle bag in his hand and the boys behind him with theirs.
“You’re sooo dramatic. You don’t even have a neighborhood to wake,” I point out.
“The animals then—”
“Do you want to see the baby chicks?” Maya suddenly cuts him off with a mischievous smirk.
“Um, of course I do. Who do you think I am?!” I exclaim, dramatically.
********
A handful of tiny, fuzzy, yellow baby chicks and headbutts from baby goats later, I make my way back to the front of the house. My brother and Sam are sitting on the porch, sharing a beer and talking about god knows what, but my eyes are somewhere else. Dean is sitting on the grass in front of the house, his arm resting on the leg he has propped up, a beer bottle sitting comfortably beside him, and running back to him is the dog with a ball in his mouth. I’m drawn to it—to him, this sight, although mundane, feels so right.
My feet carry me to him until I’m plopping down beside him just as Boss spits out the green tennis ball, panting heavily. He picks it up, despite the saliva, and tosses it for him again.
“Look at you two,” I smile, watching Boss take off at full speed.
“‘You have fun with your farm life?” he asks, taking a sip of his beer.
“Yes, everyone is so freaking cute,” I gush. “I even got to name one of the baby chicks.”
“Yeah?” he smirks, eyes dipping down my face. “What’d you name it?”
“Bell pepper,” I answer proudly, chin raised slightly.
He snorts, “‘Hell kind of name is that?”
“A good one!” I defend, shoving his arm. “What would you have named it?”
“Zepplin,” he answers a little too easily.
“Of course,” I mock him.
“Bad ass little chick,” he continues, smiling in that boyish way.
I’m about to tease him more when Boss comes trotting up to us, plopping the ball down, and then drooping onto the grass. Dean begins to pet him, giving his ears a nice scratch that makes him mush more.
“My two favorite boys together,” I murmur, petting along the dog's back.
“Favorite, huh?” Dean remarks, smugly.
“Don’t let it get to your head,” I retort, bumping my shoulder into his.
I can feel his eyes lingering on me, and I have half a mind to fight the urge to look at him too.
“Would you want a life like this?” he suddenly asks, voice more solemn.
“What do you mean?”
“Apple pie life,” he clarifies. “No more hunting, just…this.”
I look at him now, but he’s looking out over the farm, the cool breeze brushing past us. I know my answer, I always have, and yet looking at him, I’ve never been more sure.
“I would, yeah,” I answer, dropping my eyes to Boss while I continue to pet him. “Some day. If it’s in my cards.”
“You got close,” he points out. “You have your house and that job before I—“
“It wasn’t complete,” I cut him off before he could find a way to blame himself. “I had parts of it, but it wasn’t complete. It’s not the same, I wasn’t totally happy.”
“What was missing?” he asks softly, meeting my eyes.
Our fingers accidentally brush, knocking into each other's mid pet. And for whatever reason, neither of us moves our hand away, our fingers partially intertwined.
“I don’t know,” I whisper, but looking into his green eyes, I know what was missing as sure as I know that the sun will still rise tomorrow despite today. And I have to wonder if he knows it, too.
I hum a little tune beneath my breath, enjoying the peace of not running or dealing with weapons. It’s nice to do nothing.
Day dwindles on the horizon, and crickets begin their own little songs when the screen door closes with a clap. I glance up, B/n carrying out two mugs of something steaming. We finished dinner not too long ago, warm laughter shared over memories and absurd stories. It felt like home.
We’re all a little scattered now, the boys taking turns showering, Maya feeding the cats that I spent a good hour bothering lovingly, and I took myself to the porch. It’s chilly out, the tip of my nose and my hands cold from the crisp air, so when he hands me one of the mugs, I take it without question.
I keep the steaming mug close, curling up on the rocking chair as warm apples and cinnamon fill my senses. I take a tentative sip, melting immediately at the warm, rich liquid.
“Still the best cider I’ve ever had,” I proclaim, half mumbling into the mug.
“We started to sell some jugs of it,” he tells me, settling into the rocking chair beside me.
“I’ll buy you out, you're welcome,” I smile.
“That’s not what that means,” he corrects.
“Yeah, it is. I’m gonna buy and or steal all your product,” I explain, sealing the deal with another sip of the hot liquid.
“Buying out means you’re gonna take ownership of the selling,” he explains with a pointed look that reads of ‘I know what I’m talking about.’
“Oh,” I mumble. “Well, you knew what I meant, whatever.”
He shakes his head, snorting into his mug. We fall into comfortable silence, equally taking in the peace of nothingness, though it’s not exactly nothing; it’s the autumn trees waving back and forth with a little rustle, leaves crunching in the distance, and the windchimes singing us a lullaby.
“You could stay for a while, you know,” he says suddenly, breaking the silence. He’s looking out at the horizon, hiding behind another sip of the cider.
My heart drops a little in my chest, a quiet resignation settling over us like morning fog hugging the trees. I think he knows my answer and my reasoning before I can say anything, yet still he asks. He wants me to stay to keep me safe.
“I worry about you,” he continues in my absence. It feels like a pillow punch to my gut. Nothing hurts more than knowing you’re disappointing someone when you can change.
“I know you do,” I answer softly, not quite ready to open this box of emotions.
He shakes his head, frowning. “You know what it was like to hear that you were in the hospital?” he asks rhetorically. “I was sure that’d be the end, just like mom, and I’d be a hundred miles away, unable to do anything.”
“I know you worry, I’m sorry I scare you so much, but I can take care of myself. I’m an adult now, and I know what I’m getting myself into. I’m capable, I promise,” I explain carefully. I don’t want this to be an argument, though we rarely ever do argue about anything serious.
“I remember them bringing you home from the hospital. You’ll always be my little sister,” he says, solemnly.
I have to close my eyes for a moment, reel it all in. It will never matter to him how old I get or how strong I am; I’m still his only family, and he’ll always be my brother.
“I’m not ready to go home just yet,” I mumble. Of course, I miss my own bed and being in the comfort of my home, and sure, I’d go back for a little vacation. But, I don’t want to go home if it means I’ll be leaving the Winchesters and the life we’ve created on the road behind. This may have been the most absurd and scary year ever, but it’s also been the best year in a long time, because in between the tears, the fear, and the slaughter, there was laughter and connection. I know that’s a horrible connection to make, but I’ve found something normal with them, or at least something unnaturally normal.
“Okay,” he nods with a frown. Don’t get it twisted, this isn’t him giving up, this is him knowing he can't change my mind, or at the very least can’t take this away from me.
Somehow, I found a second home on the road with classic rock, bad jokes, lore books, and far too much caffeine. I’ve never felt like I’ve belonged anywhere, never kept friends easily, but in the back of that Impala, I think I’ve found something true. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. Is it such a bad thing to want?
(Next Chapter)
A/N: This is just a short little blurb, I didn’t necessarily have a reason to make it. This is based off of my relationship with my brother, and the life I set up for him in the story is what he’s working for in real life. The dog is also based off of his dog who is my baby 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
Tag list: @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @okayiamkassandra @fablesrose @bonkydarnes @star-yawnznn @toocrazyunsexycool @onlyangel-444 @seninjakitey @mystic-mara @mxltifxndom @stilesxreid @chaotic-luvrs @tiggytaylor @deanwasscaredbyacat @imaginexred @daisychaingirl @yasmin12312 @squishytap @i-am-fckn-sleep-deprived @wecangetlostinthepurplerain @moonyardz
#supernatural#fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester#the hunter and the witch#dean winchester x witch reader#sam winchester#slow burn#dean winchester x f!reader#dean winchester fluff#fluff#a little angst#farm life#autumn
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Your neck is perfectly teeth shaped
(III x Reader)

A/N: If you want to hear me shout into the void about this band (And others) Please follow me over at @lyricallymelodic, Unbeta'd so if you see an error no you didn't.
Tags: Role play, Making out, Biting, Love marks/hickeys, Clothes on, Grinding, Dressing up, on the wall. Degradation, Cumming pants, early ejaculation. Oral sex (Fade to black) No reader Genitalia mentioned.
Ao3 Link
Words: 1826
III walked into the living room after a long stream to a familiar sight. You sat on the couch, controller in hand playing Baldur's Gate Three, you had become particularly obsessed with this game, dedicating most of the hours you had off work playing through the fantasy game. III was delighted to see you get into the game, and most nights he wanted nothing more to lay his head in your lap and watch you play for a few hours before bed.
Tonight however he had something else on his mind, when he knew for sure you hadn't noticed him walk into the room he turned and headed straight for the bedroom. He tried his best to not cause too much of a commotion as he pulled out the new outfit he had bought. A red frilly shirt peasant shirt and loose black pants, having recently dyed his hair black he wasn't going to be able to copy your video game paramours silver haired quiff but he was pretty sure he could get the point across without it.
You had fallen for a particular Pale elf in the game, and had spent the last few weeks telling him all about Astarion. The morally grey vampire elf who had invaded your tik tok for you page and your heart. III was sure that there were many other partners out there complaining about their lovers taking a liking to the character, but III? He only saw this as an opportunity. He looked himself over in the mirror, checking that the shirt lay correctly, showing off his collarbone. He chews at the inside of his cheek as he fussed with the fabric and tried to tame his messy hair into some sort of slicked back style. He then adds the finishing touch, pointy elf ears, overtop of his own. unfortunately he would have to forgo the vampire teeth, after finding out through extensive research was done to figure out that he would not be able to bite anyone in a comfortable manner with any brand of costume fangs. He was only surprised someone hadn't figured out how to make fangs that you could bite people yet.
"Babe what should we have for- Oh!" You round the corner, about to ask III about…Something. You've entirely forgotten. You didn't know how exactly to process the sight in front of you. You almost wanted to ask if this was some kind of joke until he turned on his heel and a smile crossed his face.
"Hello my sweet, I did miss that face you know." He said the line with a rehearsed and slightly nervous tone. But that didn't seem to matter as you felt your heart skip a beat.
"Wha- Wait, you… Oh my god you are so hot right now." You managed to say as you look over his outfit. It wasn't just the outfit that had you flustered. It was the the way he had obviously been planning this for a while, the way he had been paying attention to your interests. Just the effort he put behind it was enough to make you feel butterflies in your stomach. However the way he sauntered up to you with a dark look in his eyes was causing your mouth to go dry.
"You startled me darlin' I wasn't ready for you yet." He muttered as he wrapped his arms around your waist. His pupils were blown with lust, he looked down at you with adoration and untold desire. Okay well, frequently told desire, but that wasn't the point.
"Do you need me to leave? cause uh, I can totally just go back to playing until you're done here." you asked with a smile. III was grinning ear to ear as he pulled you closer.
"I donno darlin', I think the surprise has been revealed y'know. The cat's outta the bag." He spoke softly as he leaned in closer, his breath hot on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "You smell so damn good baby." He muttered under his breath as he pressed his nose against your pulse point. You felt your mind going fuzzy and your body melts against his. III chuckled softly as he held you a little tighter. He was amused by your reaction to his actions. "Hmm, pet…you're so weak for me and I haven't even bitten you yet. How sweet."
"Holy fuck, you can't just say things like that, and like, fucking hell." You mutter softly as you tried to keep your wits about you. III was slowly backing you towards the wall behind you, soft kisses being pressed to the soft skin on your neck.
"Watch me, my sweet. I think I'll keep talking like this, with how much it excites you…" He pushed you up against the wall, his arm resting next to your head as he leers over you, his gaze locked onto yours as his other hand drifts over your side, grabbing your ass as he pressed his body against yours. You felt your heart racing as he leans closer until his lips are ghosting over your neck. He inhales your scent, his nose pressed to your pulse point, his hand squeezing your ass as he slid his knee between your thighs to press against your core. His teeth grazed over the sensitive skin if your throat and for just a moment you thought you might actually have died and gone to heaven because there is no way this is actually happening.
"Let me taste you darlin'… I promise I won't drink you dry…This time." III muttered softly against your skin as he gets more into character. You close your eyes as you picture it, this wasn't your bedroom in your overpriced two bedroom flat. This was the bed chamber of you vampiric lover, who loves you so passionately despite the fact that your life is fleeting and his is eternal.
"What's mine is yours my beloved." You muttered as you dragged your nails up his back, his groan of pleasure vibrated against your chest, a warm feeling build in your core as he traced his tongue over the contours of your throat. You grasped at the back of his shirt, a soft gasp escaped your lips and you felt your legs turn to jelly. III lifted you up, grabbing your thighs and holding you up against the wall, his pelvis pressed against yours. You felt the bulge of his hard cock through the pants as he left a trail of open mouth kisses over your neck and across your clavicle. He hesitated for what felt like eternity, the tips of his canines grazed your flesh. You couldn't wait anymore.
"Bite me III, please." You whined, pleading with him. Your hand rested on the back of his neck your other held onto his shoulder. He growled as he bit down on your pulse point. He pressed his body more firmly against you as he sucked on your skin. Once he was satisfied he released his teeth from your skin as it begins to blossom in a beautiful bruise.
"Perfect Darlin'" He slurred as he lifts you from the wall. III turned on his heel to face the bed carrying you the short distance so he could lay you out beneath him. You looked up at him eyes wide as he hovered over you. Your heart started racing in your chest as he began to grind his cock against your inner thigh, the sensation heightening your own arousal. You let out a small groan as you slid your knees up to wrap your legs around him, you needed him closer. III chuckled softly and he leans down to whisper in your ear. "You just want to be a good blood bag for me? Isn't that right?"
"Oh, fuck. Yes, I want to be a good blood bag for you, want you to drink your fill of me." You moan as you rocked your hips up to meet his movements. You felt the heat in your core as his clothed cock brushes over your center the sensation caused your heart to flutter and a moan to escape your lips.
"So needy for me eh? I should have known how much of a slut you are." He whispered along the hills and valleys of your bosom, nipping and kissing your skin at every opportunity, his sea blue eyes never leaving yours. His eyes were dangerously dark with lust. He was desperate for you, his hands on either side of you. You come back online momentarily as his nose nudges at the underside of your jaw, you lift your head to give him better assess. His teeth latch on to you as a growl is ripped from his throat, He kept a good hold of you as he thrust his hips against yours again and again, and you moved to meet him every time, holding onto him tightly until you both couldn't handle it anymore, you needed more. He let go of your neck and took your lips in his as he pulled at your shirt until it found its way over your head exposing your chest and stomach. He wraps his arms around you, holding your chest to his as he ruts up against you. You pull at the laces in his shirt as you kiss him back, taking his bottom lip between your teeth as the sting of fabric flys out of place with ease, his pale chest on display.
"Fuck, fuck…no,no,no,no,no! Shit!" III let out a stream of cusses as he realized he was already falling over the edge, His cock twitching in his underwear as he spills his spend in his underwear. He stops moving and his head hangs in shame. His forehead pressed against yours as he tried to catch his breath. "Sorry love, I guess I got a lil carried away."
"Sorry? For what? Baby that was sexy. Fucking hell III, watching you come undone like that." You tried to reassure him that you thought it was hot that had just happened. His expression didn't look particularly convinced until you guided his hand down the front of your pants to show him exactly how aroused you were. He looked up at you in surprise, which quickly turned to a mischievous grin.
"Oh…so you like how much of a mess you make of me then? I'll just have to show you how much I appreciate you love…" He muttered as he moved to nestle between your legs, pulling your pants and underwear down with him. You tilt your head back in pleasure, your eyes flutter close, entirely lost to the feeling of his mouth on you. You felt the bed move slightly as he started to rut his hips against the side of the mattress.
You were going to be there a for a while.
A long rest you could say.
~
Masterlist
Taglist: @silvernight-m @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @lover-of-books-and-tea @ierofrnkk @faretheeoscar @stellasplendens
#Sleep Token#sleep token iii#sleep token x reader#iii x reader#Streamertoken!AU#streamer au#x reader#sleep token fanfiction#sleep token smut#III sleep token smut#reader insert#gn reader
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virgin!reader, fem!reader, mdni 18+ only pls, overstim (what's new guys), fingering, squirting, pussy licking :D
you've only ever let toji rub your clit. truth be told, you're nervous to let him do more. obviously, you've sucked him off here and there to dispel his idea of him pleasuring you in the way he wants.
as much as you want it, as much as you know he'd make you feel so good—you don't want him to know that you can squirt... quite easily at that.
"baby," he kisses your neck, your cheek, "let me taste you, i'm dying for it."
rough fingers tease your clit, he groans at how wet your pussy's become. "tojiiii," you whine, legs shaking because he's already made you cum twice, "it's so embarassinggg..."
"how, baby?" he whispers and his voice sends shivers up your back, "i jus' wanna make you feel good. what are you so worried about, huh?"
you can feel him smiling into your skin, but your silence makes him falter. he withdraws his hand, "talk to me, doll."
"it's—it's just that," you stutter, shrinking in on yourself from embarrassment. his gaze is so intense that you make him look in another direction. "stop looking at me like that!"
he laughs, turning his head so he's able to kiss your hand, his gaze meeting yours once again.
"um, well.. i'm scared that if you finger me or whatever i'll... squirt." you mutter out that very last word so quietly he almost misses it.
he looks at you incredulously, "what? squirt?"
"yes! it's embarrassing okay!" you exclaim, hands coming up to hide your face. "my ex fingered me before he tried to put it in and when he saw me squirt, he said it was disgusting and didn't wanna sleep with me anymore!"
"he what?" toji gapes, irritation bubbling in his voice. he always hated that guy. in fact, when you guys broke up, toji was in a good mood for an entire week—not that he'd ever tell you that, though.
he gets off the bed and you feel your heart drop because you think he's leaving.
"yeah, so—toji! what are you doing?!" you yelp when he drags you to the edge of the bed. you look down at him like he's crazy. there's a feral look in his gaze, like he's getting ready to devour you.
"what does it look like?" he deadpans, "'m gonna eat your pussy."
you scramble to try and pull yourself up the bed, but he grips your thighs so you stay put.
"you know your word, baby." he reminds, not even looking at your face as he takes two fingers to part your slit, groaning at how wet you are.
first lick has your entire body tensing. he's disgusting with it, long tongue covering your whole pussy. he kisses and sucks at your clit, feeling his boxers grow damper at the sound of your moans.
"oh my god—okay! you don't have to—mmmphhhh!" he starts adding more pressure with each lick, and you don't even realize he's sneaking a hand closer to your leaky cunt.
you squeal when he slides a finger past your gummy walls, legs kicking out as you thrash on the bed. back arched, you fist the sheets underneath you as toji's finger prods at your insides, his tongue still relentless on your poor clit, alternating between flicking and sucking.
"pussy so fucking good, baby." he groans against your cunt, "can't believe you tried to keep me away from this."
"i—i just—" his hand comes down on the side of your thigh. it's not painful, just a warning.
"i don't wanna hear your excuses. i want you to cum, baby." he slurps at your clit, "'n it better be messy f'me."
you shake your head, "toji, i can't—oh my god, 'm gonna cum, please.. please."
you don't know if you're begging him to stop or keep going, but toji decides for you when he hooks his fingers up and presses against a spongy spot hidden inside your soaked pussy.
eyes widening, your whole body goes rigid and it's like toji's won the lottery. his eyes gleam with fervour as he hears your moans get louder and feels your cunt sporadically clenching down on him.
concentrated, he keeps his pace steady, needing you to fall over the edge for him.
"'m cumming!" you gasp, squealing as squirt gushes from your cunt, pushing his fingers out. some of it gets on his face, but he pays no mind as he starts to rub your clit, watching with awe as your squirt splashes around.
you're practically shouting as he hurls you into another orgasm, two mischievous fingers finding their way back inside as he makes you ride out your climax.
your hands come down on the bed, fists banging against it as you're overwhelmed with pleasure. toji watches as you writhe from how good he's making you feel, his fingers slipping out of your cunt and shamelessly popping them into his mouth.
"what the hell is wrong with you?" panting, you try to push him away with your foot.
"that was so sexy, doll." he grins ear to ear, redirecting your foot to sit on his shoulder, his head turning to kiss your calf. "can't believe you've been holding out on me."
your body twitches involuntarily and he chuckles. "damn i can't wait to make you squirt on this dick."
"w-what?!"
#soz guys idrk how to write pussy eating.. i just wanted to try :D#jujutsu kaisen imagines#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#toji smut#jjk imagines#toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk toji#toji fushiguro smut#toji fushigro x reader
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I had to tell my manager, borderline in tears, that I had to go home just minutes after clocking into my second shift after finally returning to work this week because my son’s father is so incapable of watching his own children that he had a tantrum until I came home. But I got to dance in the kitchen with my kids while my oldest very proudly made pancakes all by himself, and although I sobbed the entire way home, seeing my children smile at me with that much love almost made me forget it.
#I didn’t leave him with them alone ofc#my mom was also home but she said she wasn’t prepared to watch the baby and so I had to come home if he wasn’t gonna do it#this man told me to go back to work#told me watching kids was easier than working#spent an entire year berating me for being lazy and not working even though I was fucking half dying in the hospital and I’ve never not wor#even though I’ve been the primary parent and the primary supporter this whole goddam time#and then because I woke him up at 5:30 AM and he was hungover and tired from going out the night before and because my child is still adjus#to my absence#and was crying#he decided absolutely not#blew up my phone cursing me out and calling me selfish and accusing me of abandoning my child because I care more about leaving the house#sending me videos of my son crying and saying he wasn’t going to pick him up at all so I better come home#even though my mom said she watched him pick him up to console him immediately after the video so he was just being a#manipulative ass#telling me he wasn’t a babysitter and demanding I come back and even though he spent so much time telling me to go#he tried to tell me he told me not to#even though once again he said he was moving out last night and wouldn’t be giving me a dime so idk wtf he expected me to do#Sure with the right person I’d love to stay home and raise my children to think I want to go to work ???#but I’m not about to remain trapped and ar your mercy forever but#I could not stay and work after all that. My heart was breaking and I’m not strong enough to watch videos of my baby crying and not react#and even though my mom took him at my request she did not want to take care of him doe ten hours and I had to come home#and I just don’t know how she can continue to judge me daily and say things like you’ll figure it out when I’m trying my fucking hardest an#no one is able to help like it’s no one’s responsibility and I wish I could do it alone but I cannot stay home with y kids 24/7 and not rel#on him#and I csnnot go to work and support my fsmkly#Without him if I have no one to watch my kids#and I was sobbing so hard on the way home I almost couldn’t drive because I feel so trapped that I couldn’t breathe#truly an awful morning but I will spin the memory of my son laughing at the perfect pancakes he flipped#and my other son giggling for the first time when I tossed him up into the air#inside my brain so many times that it’ll erase everything else
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big dick ♡ choso
cw: smut mdni, virgin!choso, virgin!reader

୨୧
You thought it’d be slow. Gentle. Awkward.
You didn’t think he’d be this deep inside you, rocking your entire soul, before the first minute even passed.
“Fuck—‘m sorry, I didn’t mean to go that hard,” he pants, voice shaky as his hips roll against yours, “you just feel s’good. So warm, so tight and.. shit.”
You can’t respond. You can barely breathe.
He’s huge. Thick, heavy, deep—stretching you in ways you didn’t even know were possible. You feel full to the point of pain, except it’s so good, your eyes roll back when he thrusts again.
Your nails dig into his arms.
“C-Choso,” you whimper, voice cracking. “You—y-you’re too big, I can’t…”
“You can,” he groans, kissing your temple, rutting into you slow and deep, like he’s savoring every second. “You’re takin’ me so well. So fuckin’ perfect around me, baby. You were made for this.”
The praise makes your toes curl.
He was nervous at first. Blushing, stammering, touching you like you were breakable. But the second he sank into you—felt you squeeze around his cock like you never wanted to let him go, something snapped.
Now, he’s holding your thighs open, watching his cock disappear into you with every thrust, mouth hanging open like he’s the one being ruined.
“I didn’t know it’d feel this good,” he admits, voice all breath and hunger. “Didn’t know I’d wanna fuck you this bad. I can’t stop… I don’t wanna stop.”
Your thighs are trembling. Tears bead at the corners of your eyes. You’ve never felt pleasure like this—blinding, body-shaking, filthy.
“You’re crying,” he whispers, eyes wide, voice laced with guilt. “Am I hurting you?”
You shake your head violently. “No—no, I just—feels too good. Don’t stop.”
That’s all it takes.
He leans over you, thrusting harder now, deeper, dragging sounds from your throat you didn’t know you could make. You’re gasping, moaning, begging—reduced to nothing but the way he feels inside you.
His fingers find your clit.
“Wanna make you come on my cock,” he groans, rubbing tight circles while he pounds into you. “Wanna feel you squeeze me—come for me, baby, please.”
You do. You scream.
Your body arches off the bed, clenching hard around him, and Choso loses it. His rhythm breaks, hips stuttering, cock pulsing inside you as he comes with a loud, raw moan—buried to the hilt, pumping you full.
You’re both panting, bodies trembling.
And then… silence.
He doesn’t pull out. Doesn’t move. Just lowers himself onto his elbows and kisses you—soft, tender, still inside.
“You okay?” he whispers.
You smile, dazed. “I think you broke me.”
He laughs—blush creeping across his cheeks again.
“Guess I’m not a virgin anymore.”
“Yeah,” you whisper, “but now no one else will be able to make me cum like that.”
He grins, cock still twitching inside you.
“Good. that was the plan all along.” he says making you laugh
TL: @samm1e13 @syleepy @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @yanderebluelockfan @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @valexqpt @snowsilver2000 @mitsurisupporter @meikstv @ravenbc @mihyas-dieehefrau
A/N: no one fucking fucks with choso like i do
ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.
[Masterlist]
#choso kamo x you#choso kamo smut#choso kamo x reader#choso x you#choso smut#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#jjk x reader#choso kamo x y/n#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jjk smut#choso x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujustu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#anglbunny🐇♡#jjk drabbles#drabble#drabbles✿#jjk works 𓂂 𓇼˚。 •#jjk fanfic#choso kamo x female reader#jujutsu kaisen choso#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader
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I'm A BIG Stepper!
Synopsis. Too big? There’s no such thing as “too big”.
Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, saying it’s “too big”, FÉRAL boys, spítting, chokíng, them being big like REALLY big, cúmplay, oraI (male + fem), Choso’s rings, breéding, víbrators, creampíe, again - REALLY big, kinda mean Choso hehe, true form! Sukuna, dp, pet names, swearing.
Word count. 5.7k
A/N. When you accidentally choose “thought daughter” and half your synopses are questions WHOOPS.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - “That? M’bigger.”
“Yer killin’ me, doll.” Toji huffs out in ragged jealousy at those slow, sultry noises. “Look at you- just look at how she’s just begging f’me.”
Such cute lil’ whines leave your pretty lips as he works your puffy cunt open with that hot pink vibrator of yours. Soaked, thick - customized to the exact measurements of the achingly hard cock sat between his legs right now.
“B-but-” you gasp, eyeing down at the way your puffy folds were bulging around the toy. “S’barely even ngh- all the way in, Toji.”
“So?” he rolls his eyes. And Toji knows he’s being ridiculous, he knows it’s for his own good to stretch out your gummy walls so that you can take his massive size. But all it takes is another hard caress of that buzzing length against your poor g-spot for him to snap.
Eyes becoming crazed when your jaw falls slack, back arching up like such a slut up against his hard abs as you squeal, “Toji! Oh my god m’close—”
Close?
Suddenly, Toji can’t take it anymore - he needs to feel you wrapped around himself.
Now.
“M’gonna- wait what- ngh!” You’re batting your dewy eyes up at him when he drags the vibrator out with a loud squelch! All at once. Still reeling from disappointment, “Baby, why’d you-”
“Because.” he interrupts, and you keen when you feel the urgent throb! of Toji’s fat tip kissing at your swollen folds. Red and angry, leaking thick precum over your pussy lips in a pretty gloss. So mesmerizing that you almost miss the familiar flex of his thighs, the way his dark brows furrow in concentration. “-this pussy of yours says s’time for the real deal.”
It’s all that’s said before he’s suddenly dipping his girthy head just barely past your first ring of resistance. Difficult.
“Relax.” he hisses. Pushing in lingering, determined little grinds past each clench, still easy - still patient. For now. “Breathe f’me. Breathe f’me come on, She can do hah- do it, right, my girl?”
Shit, a part of him thinks he should’ve almost waited longer with the vibrator. Because Toji knows he’s big. He knows your cunt is so tight so heavenly he might just pass out right now. Until-
“Hngh! Toji!” you scramble onto your elbows when you feel his fat head finally bullies past to brush up against your hidden sweet spots. That little divot squeezing past to mark your walls inside. “You promised you’d hah- last longer with the oh vibrator tonight.”
Honestly, a part of Toji was impressed you were still able to form coherent sentences with the way you were being split apart on his monster cock.
He leans down to nuzzle your neck, “Awww, did I?” Hiking your limp legs further and further up his broad shoulders where he had you folded in half. “I don’t remember, maybe your pussy was jus’ c-calling t’me.”
“You- you liar!” you cry out, and he can’t help but grow impossibly harder. Fighting off that dangerous, feral part of himself that just wants to ram into you like some animal already. Because oh how he loved when you act like you weren’t bucking up mindlessly into the smooth staccato of his hips as he eases his way in. “Hngh- fuck you jus’ got- oh!”
The stretch - fuck the stretch. You never got used to it, no matter how many times he used that damn vibrator on you. Pushing you to your limits. It’s like he was nudging at your lungs already.
“F-fuuuck-” you can’t hold back your desperate moans, nails dragging reg marks down his biceps almost the size of your head. “Are you- ngh are you at least halfway in, Toji?”
“Nope.” he hums smugly, popping the p. “Though…”
And in a split second, he’s sitting up, with you splayed out so prettily on his fat length. Lips quirking into a mean little grin when two big arms of his help gravity pull you down, down, down onto his thick cock. Inch by fucking inch.
Turning his head to lick a long, languid stripe up his wrist. Groaning at the sweet sweet taste of your juices forming a sheen on his skin from the little “preparation” before. And fuck you think you feel him grow thicker - angry veins pulsing against every nook and cranny of your cunt.
Full. So full - and he wasn’t even all the way in yet.
“Oh- oh my god- fuck you’re so deep.” you mewl, body jolting with the inability to decide between wanting to run away or slam your hips down for more.
Toji notices - of course, he does - it was always like this, a few tears, a few whines, a few strokes with that pathetic “replica” of his swollen cock to stretch you out. He splays a hand out over your lower stomach, pressing down. Hard. Twitching wildly at that familiar bulge inside you, “M’so much deeper than that stupid toy.”
It’s all you can do to whimper, strained and utterly fucked out already. “Wh-what?”
“Heh, ya wanna know a secret, doll?” He’s leaning down to chuckle darkly in your ear - sending shivers down your neck, your arched spine, all the way to where he gives harsh thrust. Calculated. Once. Twice.
This time, not stopping until he was bottoming out.
Your puffy folds meeting his pelvis in a lewd kiss, his heavy balls smacking against your ass, thick cock settled deep - right where Toji’s been dying to be all night. Toji coos at the way your poor cunt was stuttering and bulging with the greedy effort to take him.
He plants a sloppy kiss right on your lips, “That vibrator’s made smaller than me.”
♡ NANAMI KENTO - Gentleman.
Now, Nanami Kento has always been told he looked like a gentleman - everything from his neatly styled hair, to his perfect suits, to the stern reading glasses always at his nose. Nanami Kento was a gentleman - both inside and out.
Well, except for that massive cock he hid away behind dapper dress pants, of course.
The one that always got so girthy and angry at the mere thought of not being stuffed inside your pretty pussy. The one that was currently beading hot precum at your pussy lips, forming a lewd little pool from where he was spooning you from behind.
The perfect remedy after a long, hard day at work - you, his cute lil’ wife.
“Bad day?” you whisper over your shoulder, Nanami’s nods coming out in feverish little puffs against your heated skin. “Then, I want you to put it in, Ken. All of it, don’ wanna waste time on preparation.”
And Nanami was never one to deny his wife - never one to doubt anything you wanted. But at this very moment, he’s loosening that speckled yellow tie he didn’t have the patience - nor the sanity to remove. Sliding the divot on his fat tip across your clit with a hushed, “Can’t, my love. I promised to not overwork you.”
You huff, “S’not overworking- just ngh- Ken-”
“Don’t.” he warns, hips rutting up lewdly at the mere sound of your voice. Sliding the mess of his glisteningly swollen cock right between your puffy folds. “Fuck- don’t. Jus’ had a bad day n’ this naughty pussy’s gonna make me lose control, darling. Have you calling out of work tomorrow.” He kisses down your neck left hand snaking down to give your cunt a gentle smack! The cool band of his wedding ring burning against your clit, “S’that really what you want?”
And it was meant to be a question to himself more than anything, really. A reminder that you weren’t even prepared yet - not stretched and teased to his heart’s content like usual. A reminder to fucking reel his sanity back before he breaks you.
But, alas, maybe you’re a genius - maybe you’re just stupid. Because you whine stubbornly, “Well, I hear it’s the best solution for a bad day, so why don’t you?”
In an instant, that’s all it takes for your leg to be stretched up in the air. The cozy bedroom chill hitting your bare cunt - only for a split-second, before Nanami’s achy tip is filling you up. Everywhere. Anywhere.
“Hold onto this.” his free hand presses his tie onto your shaky one, hip still pushing. Still rutting up in a steady pressure on your snug cunt. “Pull on it if m’going too rough- fuck- fuckin’ choke me I don’t care. Jus’ let me know because from now on…” he trails off dangerously.
But you’re not left to wonder what the end of his sentence will gift you. No, because you feel it.
He’s pushing in - nothing like the slow, languid strokes you were used to. No, barely even giving you the time to adjust while your husband just keeps pressing and pressing and-
“Ah! Ken!” you involuntarily tug on his tie when his sensitive slit massages at those syrupy sweet spots insides. “You’re so deep- fuck just fuck me how you want to.”
Nanami’s head feels light, vision getting spottier with each heaving breath he’s taking - maybe from your tightening grip around his tie, maybe from the way you’re squeezing him so fucking tight. But it takes him a few seconds to pull himself together enough to grit out, “Fuck- I want to. Oh, how I want to.” As if to confirm his statement, he’s thumbing apart your sopping slit, groaning at the sight of you drooling eagerly down his cock. “But you’re so fuckin’ tight I can’t ngh- s’this how you feel- fuck! I think m’gonna hafta take y’like this all the time, my love.”
Each word has him speeding up in jagged little pistons. Feeling so mean with the way he was bullying those cute moans out of you.
“I don’t care- ngh-” you babble, when his fingers roll over your clit. Squirming your hips down to meet his, trying to press up against those neat tufts of blond at his hilt. “-just want you all inside me.”
Shaping your cunt to this shape of him, losing his breath with each and every dense push inside your sloppy entrance. Still stuck not even halfway in yet - but you feel like you’re losing your goddamn mind.
“You’re so fuckin’ hah- hold on.” And then, your beloved Nanami pushes your leg up even further, craning his neck over to spit. A steady, sinful stream of saliva right onto the bulging mound of where he was sheeting himself in your pussy. Circling your clit, he hums in satisfaction at the mess he’s made, “Now I can ruin you exactly how I want.”
You open up so pliant for him, massaging every bump and ridge along his long, long length while you let him skim past. Being split open so well. So maddeningly.
Like you wanted to be ruined.
And just the thought of it is enough to push Nanami over the edge of his sanity - and to push the entirety of his raw, needy cock inside your tight pussy. Finally. Finally bottoming out.
“Ngh- shit-” he lets out a long breath, sharp canines puncturing at the sensitive skin on your neck. Hips stuttering and getting sloppy with each jittery push deeper inside. Even when Nanami feels your hips fucking back into his to meet the brick wall of his toned abs. His twitching balls sensitive against your ass. “Now, lemme tell ya how how it’s been a-” Just slamming his hips into yours, a ruthless depraved cadence. Fingers ruthless on your clit. “-long fuckin’ day without you.”
♡ GETO SUGURU - Till m’stupid!
“P-please!” you try - and fail - to pull off his need mouth from your poor, overstimulated cunt. Fingers clasping desperately onto his long, inky hair. “I jus’ wan’ you in me- hah-”
It’s around your fourth orgasm that night when you’re finally crying out in surrender, big fat tears rolling down your cheeks with each high, legs spasming and trying to run away from Geto Suguru’s mean mouth. Your breath catching in your chest when he only hums around your ravaged clit in answer.
“I dunno, gorgeous.” Geto teases, sloppy tongue darting around your pulsing hole. Stretching. Lapping up each and every drop of your syrupy cunt. “Don’ think she’s ready to take me, yet.”
Fuck, you knew what that meant.
You knew that meant another few sweet rolls of Geto’s tongue against your clit, another few bullying praises spat into your sensitive cunt while he dragged you through another high - another orgasm that wasn’t on his swollen cock.
And despite how much you loved the way your boyfriend teased and toyed your needy cunt with his mouth - you needed more.
So you tug once again on his dark locks, tongue getting loose with delirium, “You’re so mean, Sugu. So what if I j-jus’ wan’ your cock.”
Oh how he loved to have you begging.
At this, his glassy eyes meet yours right from where Geto was still making out with your pretty pussy in a slow, languid kiss. The squelches and suckles ringing in your ears over your own words. His brow quirks, already with the nickname, huh? Interesting.
“Can’t cum a-as good if it’s not on your cock.” you plow on. Oh, now it’s flattery? How cute. You manage to sputter out while your words don’t even slow him down, “And! And if you don’t-” Ah, Geto muses, this one’s probably the threat. What will it be? Last time it was making him do all the dishes. The time before that it was buying you that handbag you really loved- “-m’gonna go on a sex ban!”
Oh.
Oh fuck.
Now, if there’s one thing you know to never threaten Geto Suguru with, it’s a sex ban. But, alas, desperate times call for desperate measures.
So here he was - face wrenching away from the honeypot of your sweet cunt like it hurt to leave. Eyes wide as he scrambles to meet you, your slick glistening down his gaping lips, his burning cheeks - fuck, he’s never looked prettier.
“My baby…” Geto purrs into your ear, coming up to graze his lips against your in a messy crash of teeth and tongue. “Gorgeous, you never thought I’d be serious- right? Hah- sex ban my ass. You’re funny, real fucking funny.” But for all how confident he was, Geto was soothing out his words with the slightest tremor. Hastily sliding his furiously leaking tip between your sopping slit. Up and down up and down up and- “-cuz who said I could live another second without being in this cute pussy?”
As if to prove his point, Geto’s sliding his fat head past your puffy folds, stretching out your entrance so taut around his thick cock.
A big hand of his finds its way onto the small of your waist, and in a split-second Geto has your position flipped so that he’s splayed out on the mattress instead. Your limp body now toppling precariously where you were sat on his swollen cock.
“Oh.” his pretty mouth falls slack when his hazy eyes lock down at where the two of you were connected. Your pussy lips spread and sucking him up so well. He marvels, “Oh shit look at you. You always take it so well when you’re cockdrunk like this.”
And it’s true - Geto could barely feel that familiar little resistance of muscle. Instead, you’re letting his vein poke at your cunt welcomingly. Bullying himself inside.
You’re keening when an experimental thrust has Geto plunging in even deeper, throbbing veins massaging every nook and cranny of your gummy walls. You could feel him everywhere. And it’s like he could see the strain to take him. To milk him even greedier.
“S-Sugu-”
“Shhh, this is what y’wanted, right?” he’s breathing, strained - like he’s at the end of his sanity with each inch you’re bouncing down his length. “To be fucked on my cock? No matter how big?”
You don’t even have the ability to respond at this point - just the way he liked it. That smart mouth of yours too drunk to think of anything other than him. To only whine when he pools your salty tears on his tongue, murmuring into your skin, “Now now, ‘nough with the cryin’ hah- you wanted to be fucked stupid- n’that’s exactly what m’gonna do.”
Ah, he loved this part.
Loved how all those previous orgasms were crashing together to render you barely lucid when he’s shoving his entire cock up into your slutty hole. Glossy lips trembling when he hits the back of your cunt- already? Shit, that last orgasm must’ve hit you harder than he thought.
That slightly upwards curve of his dick was driving you wild now buried to his hilt. And only shoving himself deeper with each grind that Geto was bucking up to. Until his heavy balls rested behind your ass, neat black happy trail rubbing up against your skin. Until it was impossible to go any deeper.
Your drunken eyes are snapping up in surprise when feeling him grow even thicker inside you, the rough girth shaping out your sloppy hole. He rasps out a chuckle, “Wonder how loose you’ll be after a fifth one, hm?”
♡ CHOSO KAMO - Make him break!
Now, Choso knew your dirty lil’ tricks, he knew not to trust that sultry curl of your lips when you called out to him. That dangerous little glint in your eyes when you begged him to go deeper, one he almost misses with the way your heavenly cunt was trying to suck him up greedily. Almost.
Always playing with his sanity.
Always asking for more.
“But, baby.” he whines, pressing a concerned little peck to that adorable pout on your lips. Breath catching in his chest when you tug stubbornly on his bottom lip. “I don’t wanna- hah- don’ wanna hurt you, y’know?”
In response, you’re only wrapping your legs around his toned waist tighter, sure to leave sinful little marks at those dimples at the bottom of his spine. “I know what I want- n’ what I want is-” your elastic walls squeeze around his girth. Hard. “-more.”
Choso can’t help but let out a slow, hoarse drag of your name. Dark strands of his hair sticking to his forehead when he throws his head back, hips grinding down, down, down-
“Hah! You- oh-” his hazy eyes are flying open when he realizes he’s playing right into your evil hands. Biting his sharp canines down on your pulse - a little warning. “You know what happens when I go all the way, baby. M’not gonna fit- m’gonna lose control. M’gonna-”
“Please?” you hum sweetly.
He was about halfway in now - mouth watering at the way your pussy was spread open so shamefully for him. Already bulging and leaking onto the drenched silky sheets below with the struggle to take him - and you wanted more?
“Tha’s right.” you hum, and it takes his saturated mind a second to realize he said that out loud. And even longer to blink up and meet your hungry gaze, “I want more, Cho.”
Fuck, and it was so unfair. Maybe it’s the nickname, maybe it’s the way you buck your hips up sloppily, lewd squelches ringing in his ear when you bully his swollen cock just an inch more.
Maybe it’s just you. .
But that’s all it takes for him to gasp, eyes snapping wider - crazed even - hips stuttering so messily forwards before-
“Fuck, you’re such a little slut, baby.” And before you know it, Choso’s ramming his hips forwards. Letting the loud smack of skin-on-skin sound across the heady air, bruising. Painful, even. “Such a greedy little bitch-” Watching his throbbing length disappear, he’s sure it’ll leave marks - his heavy balls on your ass, toned pelvis against your thighs, fat cockhead hitting at your cervix. “-N’ s’what you’re gonna be treated like.”
It only takes one kiss of Choso’s leaky tip right against the bottom of your snug pussy before he’s cumming and cumming so hard you can almost feel him twitch at your lungs.
Not waiting for you to adjust, not even waiting for his high to bate. no, don’t make him laugh. Just spearing you on his long length, barely even easing your poor, quivering cunt into it before he’s fucking you into the mattress.
Fully bottomed out now - exactly as you knew would happen.
“No- no no no hold on.” Choso holds both your thrashing legs still with one of his, pushing past that feeble resistance while he finds his rhythm at your gaping hole. “This is- hah-” he groans, voice shot over your wrecked ah! ah! ah! Plunging inside you like he was molding your pliant walls to his shape. “Told you m’gonna break ngh-”
He was massive already - barely even managing to squeeze past and massage your dripping cunt. But oh the sweet overfill of his seed had you keening, scrambling to grab onto the sheets, the headboard, his shoulders to keep even an ounce of your sanity.
“Ngh- fuck!” you whine at the feeling of rope after rope of his thick cum sloshing around inside your plush walls. His veins throb! throb! throbbing! against your sensitive spots to make such a mess of you below. “Fuck- jus’ like that, Cho- keep- hah- keep goin’”
And you didn’t even have to ask. As expected, your boyfriend’s brows after knitting together, pushing your legs so far apart it burned. Abs flexing as his hips moved in jagged, desperate pistons to massage your gummy walls.
This was what you wanted so badly - the way he always breaks like this.
Always.
“Y’asked for more n’ you’re gonna get it.” his voice stutters, cracking ever so slightly with each smash into that spongy bundle of nerves. “More- hah!” Letting out a humorless, almost-shrill laugh, “You knew this would happen, huh?”
You’re just batting your lashes deceivingly innocently, pressing a honeyed peck to Choso’s snarl, “I highly hah- doubt-”
“Look at you.” he spits at your bumbling retort, “Can’t even speak.” Two thick fingers coming up to circle the thick globs of seed pooled at your ravaged clit, purposefully grazing against the sensitive nub. “Fuckin’ wanted more and you’re gonna- get it.”
Slamming into you fast. Out of control.
You open your mouth - no doubt to spit out some other taunt - but before the words leave your lips, he’s shoving his now-sloppy mess of his index and middle finger inside. Forcing the salty taste of his cum spilling out with each thrust, and the cool metal of his thick metal rings. You wanted to break him - and that’s what you’re gonna get.
“So you hah- better shut up that pretty mouth of yours unless I break the bed again and you along with it”
♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Twin bitches, twin bitches
“Enough admirin’ me.” Sukuna chuckles darkly from above you, reaching down to cradle your dazed head with a large, clawed hand of his. “The faster ya get back to doing yer lil’ job, the sooner that pretty cunt can take me.”
And it’s all you can do to heave for air, looking up defiantly at the two massive cocks kissing at your mouth. Barely getting a few breaths in before Sukuna’s hips thrust forwards once again to spear your heavenly mouth one of his swollen lengths. Smirking at the way your glossy lips bulge around him, “Yeah yeah, what? Got somethin’ to say, brat?”
You’re squeezing your soft palm up and down the drenched hilt of his other cock. Managing to gasp out, “I- want you-” Before your mouth is being fucked again like some little fucktoy - by both of them. Over and over. Taunting, “I want- you- now.”
“Now?” And Sukuna sounds genuinely surprised, baring his sharp canines in a shocked grin. “Y’think you can hah- already take me now?” Hissing as he drags your sloppy mouth up and off his sensitive lengths, only to question. “You sure about that?”
This angle gives you the perfect view of his intimidating cocks - massive, painfully hard. Fat tips flushed the same shade of pretty pink, angry and weeping all over your swollen lips. Twin veins throbbing urgently at your hot breath, both swollen lengths twitch so animalistically when you spit. Once. Twice.
“Heh- you always do surprise me, lil’ human.”
And shit you were goading him into it - toying with him.
But you didn’t expect that in all of two seconds, Sukuna would be lifting you easily off the ground with two big arms, wrapping your boneless legs around his waist to fit you snugly like a puzzle piece against his muscled body.
“Wh-what-”
“Y’asked, my girl.” he whispers, ragged at what a needy lil’ slut you were being for him right now. His other two free arms aligning both leaky tips at your quivering cunt. “N’ since you’re so fuckin’ spoiled, guess I gotta always hah- give ya what you want, huh?”
“You mean- oh-” It’s right around this time that you can’t think - you can’t even breathe. Can’t do anything but surrender to the two massive lengths bullying past your stretchy ring of muscle. Molding the entrance of your cunt to the shape of his cocks.
“Mmm fuck m’never gonna get tired of this stretch.” he’s groaning throatily, humming with each little half-thrust inside you. Just barely a push and pull. “So wet n- how the fuck hah- are you this tight?”
You scoff, mouth sharp even when it feels like he’s splitting you in half, “I can think of ngh- t-two reasons.”
And then Sukuna has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh - laugh - loud and baritone, the force of his chest rumbling having you slipping deeper and deeper down his massive cock. Losing your barely-there footing with each inch he’s feeding into your needy cunt.
You sputter, “Ngh- f-fuck you’re in so deep.”
“F-f-fuck you’re in so deep.” Sukuna mimics your moans in a pitch much higher than his own. Giving the fat of your ass a sharp smack! as he massages your way down. “M’not even hah- halfway in yet so ya better buckle up, brat.”
And it was true - he was still pushing in desperate, purposeful ruts upwards of his hips. Short strokes that you’d never have the king of curses do - unless he was feeling particularly nice.
Your legs dangle in midair, nails digging into his tan skin with each smack of his heavy set balls with each movement, leaving a smear of precum and spit. Sliding you down so much easier than he thought it would. Down, down, down…
“Ya feel me in here?” you’re gasping at the pressure of one of his sharp nails. Dangerous. Trailing down, down, down to draw an imaginary line on your stomach. One. And another one not too long aways, “And here?” At your cockdrunk little nod, he smiles - dark and wild. “Use your words if you ah- want what’s comin’.”
He feels you milk his cocks even harder at that, like you’re trying to drag out something delicious when you squeal, “Can feel you- can’t feel anything but you-”
The tip of his thick finger dances higher and higher. And he gruffs out, “Well, soon enough m’gonna be- hah here!”
That deep promise is all that runs through your oversaturated mind before Sukuna’s ramming into you - no mercy. Just shoving you down his throbbing cock until he could see them bulge outwards from your supple skin, leaving a lewd little mark right where he predicted it would be.
Bullseye.
“Oh fuuuuck, so nice n’ tight f’me.” Sukuna whimpers - he whimpers. Fuck, the feeling of your walls trying desperately to take shape to his cocks so addictive. So dizzying the way he can feel himself rubbing against one another, bulbous veins throbbing in time to an erratic staccato. “So nice and- and-” he’s losing his words now, slurring with each languid half-thrust up into your cervix. “-mine.”
The word seemed to have made something so feral and dark poke its head out of Sukuna’s exterior. Because then he’s dragging you sloppy cunt like he owned her, all the way from his weeping tips down until your clit was scratching against those tufts of pink at his hilt.
Slamming into you promisingly until you see stars, until you’re cumming. Electricity running through your veins just at the feeling of being so full.
Fucking you through your high, Sukuna only taunts, “Now this is where the real fun starts.”
♡ GOJO SATORU - NO CONTROL
“Why the- why the fuck-” your gasp is drowned out by the sharp rip! of fabric echoing across your boyfriend’s luxurious childhood bedroom. Pieces of your poor panties currently laying in tatters on its hardwood floor, “-do they make these things so easy access?”
As if they could be anything but easy access.
Not with the way Gojo had you bent over the nearest desk he could find, your wrists pinned, skirt bunched up, cunt slobbering and already struggling around where he was just dipping his fat head inside.
Yet, you still manage to hiss over your shoulder, “If- if it’s so ‘easy access’ then why the fuck did you hah- rip it, you fool?”
But ah you should’ve known better than to give Gojo Satoru one of your glares. Because that along with your honeyed insults have him twitching ferally inside you, the curve of his cock jolting perfectly against your hidden sweet spot. Of course.
“Because.” he gives you a sly chuckle, the very tip of his aching cock dragging along your gummy walls. “You should know this by now.” Nipping at the shell of your ear, “M’so big that even those panties are a problem, sweetheart.”
And oh the smug bastard, he’s pushing into your heavenly cunt in languid grinds. Savoring. Hypnotic.
You’re gasping when one of his calculated thrusts mashes against your sensitive areas, the slow push and pull having your nails almost digging into the wooden desk. Scrambling onto your very tip-toes to glide your gummy walls against his thick length.
“Toru…” you moan, hissing in warning. “Y-you better be quiet or else your hah- your parents are gonna hear us.”
“Hah! Me? Me?” he cackles, drinking in your bleary gaze, the way your mouth was falling slack with each tempo of his hips. “Think you should be more ngh- worried about yourself, sweetheart.” He’s pressing a hot mess of a kiss one your swollen lips, your shoulders. Down, down, down wherever he could reach down your arched spine, “Besides. We’ll be s-sneaky, m’jus’ puttin’ in the-”
And perhaps for the first time in his life, the great Gojo Satoru is utterly speechless. Words catching in his chest at the sinful sight right below him.
Your legs spread, shaking. Inner thighs smeared with the glossy sheen of the mess he’s making of your poor cunt. And you pussy- oh fuck, your pussy. With your puffy folds spread, bulging even with the effort to take it just past his fat head. Quivering and struggling with each experimental grind.
Fuck, it was hard to look at it, too. It made him throb so painfully - it made him grow bigger.
“Ngh! What the fuck-” you spit at the feeling of that familiar burn, your syrupy walls being stretched to their absolute limits.
“Shhh shhh- change of plans, sweetheart.” Is all Gojo grunts in response, bending his long, long legs at the knees to bully himself inside easier. Two big arms wrapping around your middle, reaching over to give your clit a determined swivel of his fingers. “M’gonna go about- halfway? Yeah, halfway.”
And yet, he sounds unsure himself. Voice just a pitch higher, breathy, like he was losing more and more of his sanity with each little half-thrust he’s gifting your poor cunt with.
Just quick, methodical little kisses of his hips to yours, heavy balls smacking against your thighs with each inch your greedy cunt is swallowing up. Milking the absolute fucking soul out of him.
“F-fuck!” you keen when that thick vein of his down the middle massages your good spot. The adorable sound making Gojo’s eyes light up, smirking as he hikes his knee up higher to piston deep into your dripping pussy. Heady with the squelches from below. “Th-this is hah more than- half Toru-”
Fuck, was it?
Gojo hadn’t even noticed - too drunk on the way you were squeezing his poor, overworked cock so tight. Until it was almost difficult to plunge into your dripping cunt - to split you apart on it exactly the way he wanted.
But, well, now that he was taking a long, hard look - he was just a bit more than halfway through. Brows raising in delight at the way your hips are pushing back in mindless little swivels for more.
“Then, I guess-” he trails off, two large hands of his coming to rest at your waist. A disappointed whine rips from the back of your throat when his ruthless hips slow down to a still, pulsing with anticipation. “-might as well finish the job.”
“Oh- what- you fuckin’-” The rest of your sentence is swallowed up in the way he rolls his hips forwards - fully. Inch by fucking inch. Catching in your ring of resistance less than all the way through, but still pushing. Still rutting forwards so animalistically. “Toru—” You whine at the stretch, the pure dizzying feeling of him shaping your cunt to the thick girth of his swollen cock. “S’too big- I can’t ngh-”
Pretty pink lips shut up your babbling mouth, murmuring deeply, “No no no no- no you can take it- you can oh.” Long, slender fingers coming up to roll against your poor clit, loosening your feeble reisstance, “Look at the- fuck jus’ look at the way you want me.” And you’re barely registering the hand smushing your cheeks together in an embarrassing pout, forcing you to look down at the steady, lazy torture of him splitting you apart on his massive cock. “This isn’t even fuck- me. Look at how you’re fucking back. How you want me so badly.”
And, usually, you’d snap at Gojo - tell him he’s too cocky for his own good.
But it was true.
You were meeting his sloppy, untimed bounced halfway through. Helping yourself be fucked into that expensive desk. And he’s pushing - so persistent.
So utterly wrecked when his leaky tip nudges against your spongy cervix, stars behind his eyes when his heavy balls smack your thighs. Unstopping - not until your ass was settled snugly against those tufts of white at his base. Finally, all the way in.
Through it all, he manages to rasp out, “Hey, did ya know the walls in his house are soundproofed?”
“...”
“So why don’t we go a proper round, sweetheart? Or five?”
A/N. I did NOT expect these to get so long but yk what I’m not upset.
Plagiarism not authorized.
#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk x you#gojo x reader#geto x reader#sukuna x reader#nanami x reader#gojo smut#geto smut#sukuna smut#nanami smut#tonywrites#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#choso x reader#choso smut#toji x reader#toji smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#toji x reader smut#satoru gojo x reader#toji fushiguro smut#nanami x reader smut#choso x reader smut#geto x reader smut
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─ A LITTLE BIT HARDER NOW!
WHEN HE PULLS BACK theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that.
cw. megumi x reader , stomach bulge , tummy pressing , size kink
Right now, Megumi has his grab on your thighs, blunt nails digging into soft flesh, thumbs circling pink bites on the inner sides. It's a routine that's starting to become familiar. Your hips are slightly lifted up from the bed, and he really cant explain why, but when he can see the outline of his dick through your stomach, he absolutely loses it.
You were horrified at the sight when you first saw it, but Megumi on the other hand? He was turned on the most he's been in his entire life.
He just loves pressing on the bulge in your little tummy. Its addicting—watching you squirm and whine and protest with little results. Seeing the way you cant decide if you want to stray from his touch or arch further into it. Loving how big his dick is compared to you.
"Fuck baby," he breathes out in awe. "See that? Feel it? Can you feel my cock deep inside you?" He groans as he pulls out all the way just to slam back into you, starting a fast, rough pace that doesn't seem to let up and makes the sound of sticky arousal totally embarrassing.
A hand retreats from where it's holding up your thigh to grab one of your own hands, wrestling the grip you have on crumpled sheets and guiding it down to your stomach.
"Wha- nghh, M'gumi, don't—!" A long, drawn out moan escapes your lips before the rest of your complaint can. Your hand is trembling, and too weak to escape his grab.
"C'mon sweet girl, don't you like how full I can make you feel?" He coos.
Your head falls to the side, attempting to push your face into the soft pillows, "N-noo... feels so weird..." The drawn out nature of your words make you sound unsure. Megumi doesn't believe that you don't like it, because oh, he knows you do.
"Awwh... you sure you don't like it, baby?" He says, faux innocence laced in his sweet tone. You pout. You know what he's doing to you, and hes so wrong for it. He leans in closer, tilting his head, teasing you so you get all embarrased—hot and flustered. "I should just pull out then if it's too much."
You shake your head so fast you almost get dizzy, unable to form any coherent words. Only small uh-uh's make it past your moans.
It's too hot. Megumi is so, very close to you right now. You're able to feel the radiating warmth of his body, his breath against your ear. With the added weight of his teasing, it becomes far too invading. You bury your face deeper into the pillows.
When you get like that, the heat always pressures you into spilling whatever you don't want to say—always. You make for a terrible, terrible liar.
"What about when I do it like this?" You face him again with curiosity. Your brows are furrowed, sweat beads down your hairline. Glossy eyes search his face in confusion in the cutest way ever before dilating in panic.
He adds more pressure and forces your hand harder onto your stomach, closing the little distance seperating the two of you to kiss you sloppily. You make a noise of shock, whining as he continues to knead your hand onto it.
Your cries melt back into the sound of pleasure, moaning into the kiss, your whining dying down.
When he pulls back theres drool collecting at the corner of your mouth. You're red in the face, eyes averting in shame 'cause you really do like it when he presses on your tummy like that. "Tell me how much you love it," he taunts.
When you're like this, you're able to feel all of him. Able feel every single thrust just grazing your cervix, senses going into overdrive as you subconsiously stop trying to fight his hold on your hand with the little to no strength you were using to begin with.
"I, hahh, love it! Love your cock s-so much! Feel so full... hah- aah—!" With one last thrust, your back arches, core unraveling around his length. Walls tightening, spasming in a way that makes Megumi spill all his praises. As your chest heaves heavily, your abdomen flexes and tightens, revealing the silhouette of your boyfriend's cock stuffed inside of you even clearer now.
The corner of his mouth quirks up in pride, "I bet you do, baby. I fuckin' bet."
He really should start doing this more often.
#jjk megumi#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen megumi#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu megumi#megumi fushiguro#megumi fushiguro x reader#megumi smut#megumi x y/n#megumi x reader#megumi x you
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Rappers ain’t shit, I might fuck with a baller.
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI!!!
“rappers really ain’t shit,” sukuna spits, grinding into you like he wants to rearrange your guts. “should’ve let me bend you over the second he brought you around.”
he fucks you like you owe him something. rough. mean. deep. filthy. his hand’s fisted in the jersey he made you wear—his number across your tits, his scent all over your skin. the same couch he used to smoke on with your ex is now where he’s got your legs pinned wide, dripping and stuffed full of his cock.
you don’t even recognize yourself—whining, trembling, letting sukuna do whatever he wants to you just because you’re pissed and petty and desperate to feel something—anything other than disappointment and anger.
and fuck, does sukuna know it.
“cheating on you?” he laughs low in your ear, one hand palming the bulge in your stomach, grinning when you cry out. “on this pretty little tight pussy? is he fucking dumb?”
you dig your nails into his back, squirming under him.
“don’t stop,” you pant. “don’t stop—don’t fucking stop.”
his fingers slide down to rub your clit, fast. “like i fucking would,” he hisses. “look at you. dripping on my couch like a little slut. tell me, princess—was he ever even fuckin’ you right?”
before you can get a proper answer out, he slips two fingers into your mouth, pressing them down hard on your tongue.
he grunts, hips rolling deep, slow, grinding like he wants to leave a mark inside you. “i bet not. couldn’t have been. pussy’s too tight—bet his cock was so fuckin’ small too.”
you whimper, clinging to him, sucking on his fingers like your life depends on it. every stroke knocks the air out of your lungs, every slap of his hips against yours sending another wave of heat crawling up your spine.
“you talk about him like that,” you gasp, barely able to speak with how hard he’s pressing his digits down on your tongue and how deep and hard he’s fucking you, “but he’s your friend, you know… you’re not innocent either.”
sukuna stills for a second, cock buried so deep you swear you can feel him in your throat. then he laughs, pulling his fingers from your mouth before curling his hand around your jaw to make you look at him.
“friend?” he echoes. “baby, i was never his fuckin’ friend.” then slaps your pussy once, not hard, just enough to make you jolt.
“you think i didn’t know what he was doing? huh?” he growls. “you think i didn’t see him sneakin’ around, fuckin’ those thirsty-ass groupies while you were waitin’ for his sorry ass to come home?”
your eyes sting, but the tears never come. not when sukuna’s dragging his cock out slow, letting you feel every inch, just to slam it back in with a brutal snap of his hips that makes your body jerk.
“i knew,” he says, panting against your mouth, “and you know why i didn’t tell you?”
“why?” you whimper.
his thumb finds your clit again, working tight, ruthless circles while he fucks you harder—louder. meaner. the couch squeaks beneath you. his jersey clings to your body, soaked in sweat.
“’cause i wanted to fuckin’ ruin you myself.”
your mouth falls open on a cry, body seizing up when your orgasm hits like a truck— fast and humiliatingly loud.
“look at that,” he huffs, fucking you through it, holding your legs wide like he wants to devour you. “you wanted revenge, right? wanted to feel something? you feelin’ this, baby? you feelin’ me fuck that bastard’s name right outta your fuckin’ mouth?”
you nod, frantic, eyes rolling back as he pounds into your overstimulated cunt.
“cheating on you…” he mutters again, like it physically pisses him off. his mouth presses to your throat, kissing just under your jaw. “he’s a fuckin’ idiot.”
he bites you, sharp, right where your pulse is.
“you want me to kill him?” he murmurs. “mh? talk to me baby—tell me i can. i would. swear to god, i fuckin’ would.”
“s’kuna!—fuck,” you cry, not even sure what you’re saying anymore, just chasing another high, dizzy from the way he’s fucking you like he wants to break you in half.
“look so fucking good with my jersey on,” he growls, dragging it up to watch your tits bounce. “gonna send him a picture of you like this, pussy all red and messy from my cock. make him watch the vid when i cum on your face.”
“you’re so—fucking m-mean,” you breathe, hips lifting to meet his thrusts shamelessly. “you’re just like him, if not worse—ah! s’kunaaaa! f-fuck!”
he grins, “maybe,” he says, licking into your mouth. “but at least i’d never fuckin’ cheat on you.”
and with that, he pulls out, flips you over with no effort and shoves back in from behind—so mean and deep, making you scream.
he yanks your head back by the hair, huffing against your ear.
“gonna fuck a baby into you just to piss him off,” he groans, balls slapping against your soaked cunt. “make him see you on my arm, belly round, lookin’ like my fuckin’ wife.”
you moan his name like a prayer, lost in it—lost in him. rough and sweet and dirty all in one. sukuna’s hand slips under your stomach, pressing down until you can feel every inch of him grinding against your front.
“pussy’s mine now,” he says, deadly quiet, kissing the back of your shoulder. “you hear me?”
you nod fast, babbling, “yours—yours, i swear—”
“good girl,” he hums. “now cum again, pretty. cum all over this cock while i fuck you stupid.”
and you do.
for the entire night.
© gojodickbig on tumblr. all rights reserved. do not cross-post, translate, copy in any way, etc.
#sukuna#sukuna x reader#sukuna x female reader#sukuna x f!reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuna smut#ryomen sukuna#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x female reader#ryomen sukuna x f!reader#ryomen sukuna x y/n#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna smut#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk x female reader#jjk x f!reader#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x female reader#jujutsu kaisen x f!reader#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen smut#sukuna jjk#ryomen sukuna jujutsu kaisen
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Nanami Kento's Breed Kink
Pairings - Nanami Kento x F! reader
Warnings - MDNI- Nanami is NOT NICE, he's a whole mf freak actually, dom Nanami, smacking, fingering, mentions of oral, p in v sex, creampie, breed kink (it's in the title lol) lil bit of aftercare hehe
Someone requested breed kink Nanami so heerre

Nanami Kento may seem well put together, quiet and borderline stiff, maybe even boring to some, but that was not the case at all, not with you.
He's loud in bed, guttural moans echoing in your ear, muttering filthy words while he'll fuck you from the back, filling you so full. He'll just talk and talk when he's fingering you, chuckling and mocking when you squirt all over him, muttering - 'messy little slut of mine'. You'll just cum more, he'll tease your hole over and over until you are just a little mewling mess, just how he likes you.
You've learned the moment he steps through the door and comes home, that he needs you. Whether it's you on your knees, sucking him while he tells you about his day, or it's him burying his face between your thighs after you bring him his favorite glass of whiskey, Nanami is just himself when he's here.
At first he held back a bit, but once he showed more and more and saw just how well you take it, he started to let go. Nanami Kento was a whole ass freak, in fact. At dinner with his friends and yours, fuck even with your family, he'll be fingering you under the table, whispering - 'aww, keep quiet, you're only my little whore' and immediately after be laughing at a joke, fingers stuffed inside you.
He was truly a menace!
The one thing new for you - and Nanami has really done a lot to your pussy these past few months - is when he says 'you'd look so pretty pregnant, darling' casually. You looked up at his hazel eyes in shock. You all are leaving dinner, he's driving that fancy silver sports car of his. You get flushed, when his hand comes to your thigh. 'Kento, do you really think so?' he chuckles softly. 'I know you would, I'd love to put a baby inside you'
You two barely make it home, he speeds too, no one would ever guess but the man does twenty over everwhere. No one would guess he's ripping your dress off, shoving his carefully ironed jacket and dress shirt on the floor. His huge muscles bulge and tense under his golden skin while he moves over you, pressing you down into the mattress. 'Kento... mnh...'
'Do you want a baby?' he asks desperately, rubbing his reddened tip against your slit, already drooling wetness, you gasp and nod quickly, he moans out, as he presses in. 'Want all my cum inside you?' you whine out, unable to answer, when you get a firm smack on the cheek, only making you soak his thick, veiny length. 'Answer me, pretty, be a good girl' you rub your stinging cheek while he pauses his thrust. 'Please, put a baby in me Kento'
Nanami loses it more than usual, your pussy will never really be able to take how big he is, how much it has to stretch to accommodate his girth. But she tries her damn best, and he makes sure to rub your clit, shoving your thighs up high... too high then, his strokes are hitting your cervix, making you scream out as the pain mixes with how fucking good it feels, bottoming out inside you. 'K-ken, what position is this?'
He smirks at you, his eyes have dilated so much they're black, folding you in half now. Your thighs brush against your breasts when he puts just a bit of weight on you, murmuring all calmly - 'A mating press, love, for you to take all my cum, make sure it gets you pregnant, round with me. Do you want it, my sweet little slut?' You nod, already pulsing around him, and he moans out - 'good girl' - trying to end you then and there.
Once Nanami has ruined your cunt, fucking you hard and fast, while muttering his filthy mix of degradation and love declarations, he thickens inside you, while you're closer and closer to falling apart. 'Ready for me to put it all inside you?' you nod eagerly, whining out as the slapping of his heavy balls mixes with the squishing of your cunt, until he busts inside of you, and you cum right with him, cunt milking him for every sticky drop to coat your walls.
Nanami doesn't just cum in you, no he's full psycho soon, shoving the cum that's pouring from your sore little hole right back in, brushing your hair back as he smiles at you. 'You did so good for me, but your slutty cunt is wasting it' you're wriggling, so sore, his white ropes dripping down his hand. 'Do you need more, darling?' your answer is really just a nod and an - 'ngh' - before he does just that, determined to get you pregnant tonight.
Nanami Kento is not a gentleman nor is he quiet, he's actually fucking insane and now his breed kink is next level. Luckily he'll give you a sweet bubble bath and make you breakfast the next morning - grinning at you and saying - 'you need to eat healthy if you wanna make it tonight, darling'.
Kofi link if you wanna buy me a glass of wine 🍷- Nanami Masterlist
#nanami kento#nanami smut#nanami x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#nanami x you#kento nanami#jujutsu kaisen nanami#nanami x fem!reader#kento smut#kento x reader#kento x you#jjk nanami#nanami kento x reader#nanami kento x you#divider by omi resources#kento nanami smut#kento nanami x reader#kento nanami x you
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06/24/25; 08:05pm
{ 18+ drabbles / headcanons }
[ their favorite positions ]
featuring: jinu, abby, baby, mystery, romance
[ minors don’t interact; by choosing to interact with this content, you have consented to viewing something n-fw despite the warnings. ]

jinu loves having you ride him.
he’ll flash you a cocky grin while settling himself back in bed with both hands placed beneath his head. your hips would tremble with need for him while making your descent down the shaft of his cock.
and once jinu was fully sheathed within you, it would take a herculean effort to hold back the need to cum inside of you, gritting his teeth while biting back his moans with a smirk.
“c’mon baby, is that all you got?”
despite your whimpers, a look of determination would be seen within your gaze as you braced yourself on his broad chest, thrusting your hips sloppily against his as it takes you a few tries to gain your momentum-
but once you were able to set a decent pace, jinu knew that he was a goner, unable to last even a full minute with you bouncing up and down his cock so passionately. his eyes would meet your gaze, large hands gripping at your bouncing tits while playing with your hardened nipples. each time you would come down on him, you could feel his hard cock brush against your swollen clit as the hedonistic sensation was enough to tip you over the edge.
and when you finally spilled yourself on his cock, jinu couldn’t help but meet your lips in a searing kiss, swallowing the rest of your moans as he pumped you full of his seed.

abby is addicted to folding you in a mating press, tossing both of your legs over his broad shoulders as he continuously fucks his cock into you.
the demon basks in the way he’s able to make your eyes roll into the back of your head all while muttering nasty things within your ear.
look at you, droolin’ on m’cock like a needy slut.
bet you can’t even think straight, eh?
fuck look at how pretty you are.
look at how your pretty pussy clenches around me, wanting to milk me dry.
his filthy words were doing things to your body, making sweet goosebumps erupt all across your body as abby used you as his personal fucktoy, slamming into your entrance over and over again that it made you lose your mind just seconds later.
your release hits you like a freight train, with your walls clenching around abby’s thick cock, your juices spilling down his shaft when he lets out a groan of your name.
“fuck, did you just squirt on me?”
by now, the mortification you felt was palpable, the embarrassment flowing through your very veins when abby lets out a deep chuckle. steadying your legs on his shoulders once more, he slams his cock back into you, the squelching sounds of your walls taking him in echoes throughout the room as he fucks you once more, making you cry out to him when he whispers hotly in your ear-
“you’re such a good girl f’me. how about i make you squirt three more times and we’ll call it a night?”

baby lives to see your ass bouncing on his cock, with his hands gripping at your waist as he keeps you in the reverse cowgirl position.
you brace your hands over his legs, feeling baby lay back as he simply watches you struggling to take in his thick cock. each time to bring your hips down on him, you felt yourself approaching your high-
yet you were too weak to go on.
your arms were hurting from how much you had to steady yourself on top of his legs, which made you whimper with need for him.
“babe… baby… i need help… i need you…!”
despite being unable to see him, you could feel him sitting up. he presses a lingering kiss against your temples, wrapping an arm around your naked chest, “was it too much for you? does my girl need help? how cute.”
with those final words, baby grants your wishes the moment he pistons his hips upwards, fucking himself into you as he made sure he was buried to the hilt each time he returns inside of your heat. you were let a drooling mess when baby finally takes over, unable to focus on anything that wasn’t his cock as you succumbed to the pleasure he was giving you.

mystery loves having you laying on your side, with a leg tossed over his shoulder as he drills his cock into you.
this position was a particular favorite of mystery since he could see the way your tits bounced in tune with his every thrust. his hands would worship every dip and curve of your body while his lips would place lingering kisses against your ankles.
the sounds that escapes from your parted lips were nothing short of music to his ears, and he could feel his cock growing each time he thrusts back into you. the silky feel of your walls and how he manages to hit your g-spot from this angle would ultimately lead to your undoing-
with you spilling yourself on his cock as you allowed a demon to bring you to the gates of heaven.

romance (being a true romantic at heart) would be the one who enjoys fucking you in the missionary position.
there was something achingly intimate about being able to watch your every expression as he slides himself into you-
basking in your soft mewls while interlocking his fingertips together with yours each time he thrusts his cock in and out of you.
just being able to press himself oh so close to you, becoming a tangle of limbs as romance wasn’t sure where you began and he ended-
it was during moments like these that romance felt almost human again.
with a growl of your name, romance would proceed to wrap your legs around his waist, bracing himself against the bed as he sped up his movements, wanting to hear more and more of your moans and keens that echo throughout the night-
feeding his need to completely taint you with his desires as he had no intention of ever stopping.
end notes: I AM OFFICIALLY A SAJA BOYS STAN!! JINU IS MY BIAS 😭🙌🏻 this is currently unedited, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted ♡
all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!
#jinu saja smut#abby saja smut#baby saja smut#mystery saja smut#romance saja smut#jinu x reader#abby x reader#baby x reader#mystery x reader#romance x reader#kpop demon hunters#kpdh#kpdh x reader#jinu x you#abby x you#baby x you#mystery x you#romance x you#writings 📖
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How about something smutty for the Thunderbolts headcanons 😳 Like how each of them would react to you making them cum in their pants
thank you so much for requesting and feeding my hyperfixation!! below you will find four separate baby blurbs for bucky, john, yelena, and bob. each section will have it's own summary, warnings, and whole lotta smut! enjoy :D
BUCKY BARNES X READER — you're with him in wakanda when he's cured of the trigger words in his head. he's able to touch you for the first time without feeling scared of himself. (established relationship, post-cacw | 1k words)
Bucky Barnes can’t remember the last time he felt this free. Maybe sometime in 1942, he guesses — before he got drafted, before Hydra captured him, before they put those goddamn words in his head. It feels weird that they’re gone now; to be without the dark cloud of impending doom that, at any moment, someone could utter the words and he’d just snap.
But now, freshly cured and living on the Wakandan countryside, he can touch you for the first time without being terrified of himself.
“You’re so pretty,” he mumbles as his vibranium hand trails up the expanse of your bare back. He keeps his flesh one on your thigh, smoothing his thumb over the plush skin there, and tilts his scruffy chin to smile up at you. He’s got you straddled over his lap, barely clothed and bathed in golden candelight, like some kinda angel brought to life.
“You’re pretty,” you correct with a lovesick grin, raking your hands through his silky, growing locks.
Bucky leans instinctively into your touch. “Don’t make this about me,” he says, squinting.
“It is about you,” you remind him with a giggle, ducking down to kiss his neck. “I’m supposed to compliment you—” Your lips brush his pulse in a chaste kiss. Bucky fights back a shiver. “—Supposed to make you feel good.”
“You do,” Bucky sighs a contented moan, pulling you further into him. “You always do…”
His vibranium hand curls up your back and towards your shoulder. His other one holds tightly to your hip. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck until your bare chest is flush with his scruffy one — until your clothed cunt brushes his cock, half-hard and throbbing within the confines of his boxers.
A moan rumbles in Bucky’s throat. You feel it against your lips when you press them to his adam’s apple. “Do you want to?” you murmur against him, voice low like honey. “‘Cause it kinda seems like you want to.”
Bucky’s head is too clouded to respond properly to your teasing. He just nods his heavy head and flexes his hips beneath you in a desperate attempt to relieve the pulsing ache in his boxers. You let him, and with his consent, begin to rock slowly over his lap.
“Say it,” you whisper in his ear.
“Want it,” he pants in yours. “Want you.”
“You have me, Buck,” you slur, trying to peer at him through the haze in your vision. Your panties drag over his stiffening cock and leave a damp spot at the center of them. You find yourself chasing your high just as much as Bucky’s.
You snuck a few sips of alcohol to quell your worry before watching Ayo recite the wretched words back to the man haunted by them. You feel the consequences creeping up on you now and find yourself rambling before you can stop it, half-deluded with pleasure.
“‘M already yours. My pussy’s already— shit,” you whimper in time with Bucky’s groaning when your clit drags over his lap. Through pants, you beg him, “Say you wanna fuck me. Please. Don’t wanna cum ’til you’re inside me.”
“Oh, fuck,” Bucky whines, face screwed and eyes shut tight. He tries to form the words in his head, but all he can think about is how wet you are — and how his leaking cock has left a damp spot in his underwear — and how the combination of both makes the friction between you so dizzying. “I wanna… fuck—”
“Uh-huh,” you tease with a slow nod when you sense he’s getting close. “You can do it, Buck. C’mon. There you go.”
He can’t tell if you’re trying to coach him into saying the words or push him headfirst into an orgasm. He hopes it’s the latter, ‘cause he feels himself bursting into his boxers a second later.
“Fuck!” he blurts when he cums, half-muffled and half-whined, like it pains him.
He holds your hips in both hands, keeping you still above him in a crueler grip than he means to. The quiet bedroom fills with the sound of crackling candles and his groaning. He tilts his face to the ceiling and moans into the golden darkness with his eyes squeezed shut. The sudden orgasm racks through his body in so many shivers up his spine, three warm ropes spit into the confines of his boxers.
“‘M sorry,” he pants when it’s done, still slightly airy from the aftershocks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t— Didn’t mean to.”
“It’s okay,” you promise with a soft laugh as your own building pleasure begins to subside. You cup his scruffy face in your palms and try to kiss him through the smile on your lips. “You deserve it, Buck,” you whisper against his mouth, between your delicate kisses. “You deserve everything.”
Bucky shakes his head between your palms and smooths his fingers over the bruises he unknowingly stamped into your skin. “Don’t care about everything,” he murmurs lowly. “Just you.”
Your eyes narrow in a sarcastic squint, though you can’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “Do you think we can get Shuri to erase the cheesiness from your brain, too?”
“Sure,” Bucky scoffs, smiling still, as he shoves you playfully onto your back. You giggle when you hit the mattress, caging your smile between your teeth as the man crawls back between your legs. He lies flat on the mattress, face-to-face with your clothed pussy. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
You nod, obviously sarcastic. “Mhm. Very much.”
“Maybe I’ll just go get her then,” Bucky murmurs, punctuating his quip with a kiss to your inner thigh as he spreads them apart. You shiver when his scruff scrapes your delicate skin. “Tell her to put me back under the ice—”
Your feet lock behind his back to keep him against you. Bucky laughs and curls his arms around your thighs as you prop yourself on your elbows to shoot him a death glare. “You’re not going anywhere, Sergeant Barnes.”
And, truth be told, Bucky’s exactly where he wants to be.
JOHN WALKER X READER — john hates when valentina pairs the two of you on missions together. until he doesn't. (enemies to lovers, pre-thunderbolts, cw for brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)
John Walker can’t stand you most days. You’re too reckless, too impulsive, too quick to put yourselves in situations that might kill you. He hates that Valentina paired you together just as much as he hates that he cares so much about your well-being.
He knows it’d be easier to let you get yourself killed, to have one less thing to worry about, but he somehow ends up kissing you instead.
“I can’t fucking stand you,” he grumbles through labored breaths, with your spit still shining on his swollen mouth. He cages your body between his larger one and the unforgiving wall behind you. The men guarding the vault outside surely won’t mind the sexual tension rising inside it, seeing as they’re half-dead already.
You smile in the face of his anger until the fresh cut on your mouth starts to sting. “But you can fuck me?” you pant, eyes glazed over as they dart back and forth between his dilated ones. “I mean, you want to, right? ’S why you locked me in here, isn’t it?”
“I locked you in here because there were three guys outside trying to kill you, if you forgot.”
“Two,” you correct in a witty deadpan. “I killed the third one.”
“And I killed the other two, who gives a shit—”
“You’re obsessed with me, Walker,” you grin, pulling him close by the belt loops on his suit.
Despite his near palpable rage, he melts into you with ease. The blonde man stumbles closer until he’s towering over you — hair messy from his helmet, face bruised, ocean eyes staring daggers into you.
“Well, that’s very presumptuous of you,” he gripes.
“I don’t think it is,” you lilt lowly and nudge his clothed crotch with your thigh.
You watch the words of an argument form and dissolve on his tongue all at once. John exhales hard through his nose as his eyes go glassy. He hadn’t realized how hard he was until you pressed yourself against him — how sensitive he was — how long it had been since he’d had any sort of release.
“Admit it—” you whisper, pulling him closer until his stiff cock is pressed between your bodies. He smells like cologne and copper pennies, likely from the blood darkening his navy blue suit. You’re almost sure you’d be able to feel his racing heart from here, if it weren’t for the thick layers separating you. “—You love me…”
“I hate you,” he corrects, though his dark eyes cloud with lust.
Your smile widens. The cut on the corner of your mouth begins to weep all over again. John reaches for your jaw without thinking, cupping his palm there and swiping the crimson away with his thumb.
“No, you don’t,” you coo with a shake of your head. The room goes quiet then, filled only by John’s heavy breaths and the clinking of his belt as you undo the buckle. You keep him close with one hand around his belt loop while the other creeps around the front of him. His breath catches in his throat when your fingers dip beneath the hem.
You don’t think he realizes how he’s rocking himself against your thigh. Or the way he subconsciously shakes his head in agreement.
“You’ve always thought about this, haven’t you?” you continue mercilessly, grinning when your fingertips meet the coarse thatch of hair above his cock.
John nods his heavy head and leans further into you, propping himself on the wall as his eyes flutter shut. He deserves this, he tells himself, for saving your ass a hundred times over. You owe him one, really.
“I know you have,” you whisper in his ear. “I bet you’ve gotten yourself off to the thought of me a thousand times.”
Again, John nods in response without ever really noticing it. Just like he doesn’t really notice the release building within him — like a creeping hand up his spine, or a tightening knot in his lean stomach. He just keeps rubbing himself against you, chasing a high he barely knows is there.
“But I think when you imagined me making you cum…” you trail off and smile when John moans against your pulse. “…You always thought it’d be inside me.”
John tenses at the thought of fucking you. He’s left trembling above you as a sudden orgasm racks through his body. The quiet room fills with his poorly heldback groans and your giggling while he cums in his pants. He feels the evidence, warm and wet, blooming in his boxers — just like the red-hot embarrassment exploding in his chest.
He pulls away to find you grinning like the devil.
“Told ya,” you monotone and pull your hand from his boxers, only slightly mourning the fact that you never actually got to touch him. “You’re obsessed with me.”
John scoffs, like he has any room to be ambivalent after humping your thigh like a dog. He zips up his pants, belt buckle clinking as he fastens it again. “You ruined my suit,” is all he can think to say as you walk past him.
You roll your eyes and wrench open the heavy door to the vault, stepping over the bloody bodies littered on the other side of it. “Bill me,” you call over your shoulder.
YELENA BELOVA X READER — yelena is full of adrenaline after a mission, and you only know one way to calm her down (established relationship, post-thunderbolts, cw for very brief mentions of injuries | 0.8k words)
Yelena Belova has you flat on your back. The rest of the Avengers tower is dark, quiet, and asleep — each of you recovering from the latest mission in the sanctuary of your bedrooms. The blonde Russian girl is too full of adrenaline to rest, though, never mind how much she could probably use the sleep. She’s a relentless force on top of you — because of the adrenaline, of course, and not because she nearly lost you.
She tugs your pants down your legs with a pair of merciless hands, bruised knees digging into the foot of the mattress across from you. The mattress squeaks with each of your movements, and you fight back a laugh. “Be gentle, Belova!” you scold in a whisper. “Walker’s gonna hear.”
(John had the misfortune of his bedroom being one story below yours. And the floors were surprisingly thin. Or so he says.)
Yelena scoffs, face screwed. “I don’t care,” she mutters, voice accented and low like honey. “Let him hear.”
She makes a big show of climbing back over your body, moving much more violently than normal over the worn bed frame, so it creaks louder beneath her. “Yelena!” you snap quietly through gritted teeth, but hold her gently by the hips when she straddles you just the same.
“What?!” she exclaims, louder than necessary for the late, late night, as she tugs her shirt over her head. She throws the fabric to the side, discarding it with the rest of your pajamas littered on the floor — leaving both of you in mismatched sets of old, cotton underwear.
“God, you’re such a child,” you grouse and cross your arms beneath your head.
Yelena grins. “Stop flirting with me,” she lilts lowly and ducks down to kiss you.
Your eyes flutter shut when her plush lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “We should rest, Lena…” you tell her, sighing when her teeth scrape your pulse. “We’re gonna be sore in the morning.”
You feel her mouth curl into a smile against your skin. “I hope so.”
“Child,” you repeat.
Yelena gets relentless rather quickly, feral in a way only a previous world-class assassin could be. She forgets about the exhaustion and the bruises that ache to the bone, littered across both your bodies. Her head fills only with thoughts of making you feel good, touching you like it could be the last time she ever gets to.
“Lena, Lena, Lena—” you echo, reaching for her wrist where her hand’s shoved into your panties. “Slow down,” you laugh.
“Why?” she whines.
You find her pretty face contorted in a girlish pout when you cup her cheeks in your hands. “Because we have all night,” you coo, smoothing your thumbs over her flushed jaw. “We don’t have to rush.”
Your words strike something deep in her chest. She refuses to let the vulnerability show.��
“I know that,” she scoffs, trying to look unbothered as you smooth the top of her tank top down her chest. You tuck it beneath her breasts, and her pink nipples perk when the cool air hits them.
“Good,” you hum, lifting your head to take her left breast in your mouth.
“I just— I wanted to make you feel good—” she whines in her low Russian accent, voice cracking when you nudge her clothed cunt with your thigh. “—Oh…”
You smile into her chest, teeth scraping her sensitive nipple. Yelena keeps you pressed against her with a hand on the back of your head. Your arms curl around her back to keep her flush to your thigh. You feel the warmth of her cunt against your skin, and the wet spot slowly forming there.
The stubborn girl turns into a puddle above you, in more ways than one. You feel her shuddering as she buries each of her moans in your hair. Your mouth leaves her nipple with a quiet pop, and a thin string of saliva threatens to connect you when you pull away.
“Are you gonna cum, Lena?” you coo, swollen mouth curling into a soft smile. “I’ve barely even touched you—”
Her fingers tighten in your hair. “Don’t stop, don’t stop,” she pleads in a broken voice.
You return to her chest, sucking on her sensitive nipple until she keens. She exhales a hoarse moan above you, flexing her hips over your thigh to keep her clit flush to your skin. She lets out several pretty “Uh, uh, uh”’s before tensing suddenly above you.
Yelena holds her breath, grips you tight by your shoulder and the back of your neck, and begins to tremble over your thigh. “Oh, shit…” she moans, then sighs. “Oh, shit—”
It comes out more disappointed the second time, as she pulls back from you to flash you a girlish pout. “What?” you laugh, mouth shining with spit, as you smooth a rouge blonde tendril behind her ear.
“I was supposed to make you feel good,” she whines, Russian accent sounding deep in her mouth. “I had it all planned— I’ve been thinking about it all day.”
“Well, then it’s a good thing we’ve got all the time in the world, right?”
Yelena’s frown curls into a more devilish grin at your words.
Neither of you get any sleep that night. Walker, included.
ROBERTY REYNOLDS X READER — a year after the void nearly destroyed new york, you're still teaching bob that it's okay to feel good (new-ish relationship, post-thunderbolts | 1k words)
Robert Reynolds is still getting used to touching you. He’s spent nearly every day with you since you found him — learning how to use his powers for good, how to touch you without hurting you, how to be human again. It’s been a year since then, and he’s starting to get the hang of it. But sometimes he thinks you have more faith in him than he does in himself.
You kiss him hard enough to bruise him on the center of the living room couch, with Sunset Boulevard playing quietly on the large TV behind you. Bob’s anxiety is only partly quelled by the rest of the Thunderbolts’ absence, but he’s still slightly scared of himself — what if The Void returned and swallowed him whole again? Who would be there to stop him from hurting you if it did?
You don’t seem half as panicked about the whole thing as your lips stamp wet kisses up and down the expanse of his long neck. “You’re so pretty, Bobby,” you murmur into his warm skin. “Such a pretty boy…”
Bob swallows hard at your praise, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He shifts uncomfortably beneath you on the sofa when he feels his cock twitching in the confines of his sweatpants. There’s a need for release inside of him that he can’t ignore, but he cares more about keeping you safe. Safe from himself.
You pull back, mouth swollen from your assault on his neck. “Can I…?” you smile and trail off, hands sliding down his clothed, lean chest to the waistband of his sweatpants.
Bob doesn’t know what you’re planning. It excites him as much as it frightens him. His mouth opens and closes like a fish until he finds the words. “Oh. I— I don’t— I don’t know,” he stammers through an awkward chuckle.
You shrug despite the pang of disappointment in your chest. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to—”
“It’s not that!” Bob blurts, rushing to hold you by the waist when you threaten to move off him. (He forgets, for maybe the first time ever, to be scared of touching you.) He swallows hard at the look you give him, blinking wildly with glassy eyes. “I just… I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You’re not gonna hurt me,” you assure him with a pretty laugh. “You don’t even have to touch me.”
Bob’s brows furrow. “What?” he wonders aloud.
You don’t answer him with words. You just flash him a mischievous smirk and shift on the couch until you’re no longer straddling him. You press your lips to his — once, twice, and then a third time — in a silent reminder to relax before your mouth trails down his neck once more.
You move past his jaw, to his pulse, and down towards his collarbone, sinking further onto your knees as you kiss down his body.
Bob exhales a shuddering breath and tilts his heavy head towards the back of the couch. He feels his hands start to ache with the urge to touch you. He balls them into fists, instead.
“Relax, baby,” you murmur between the kisses you press to his clothed sternum. “Let me make you feel good.”
Bob tenses beneath you when your hands brush his cock, growing harder in his boxers by the second. He squeezes his eyes shut and tries to ignore the need swelling inside him. “Um… Maybe we should…” he stammers, voice shaking. “Maybe we should, like, slow down?”
He covers his desperate plea with a wavering half-smile.
You nod, now fully on your knees between his spread thighs, and give him a kind, tight-lipped smile in return. “‘Course. I’ll go slow. Promise.”
You feel Bob trembling beneath your hand when you lift the hem of his shirt. Your fingers brush the fine hair sprinkled on his lean stomach as you press chaste kisses to every inch of revealed skin. He takes in a shaking breath, burning red hot under your touch.
He doesn’t know how to tell you how sensitive he is — how, if he thinks about you and your soft touches for too long, that he’ll explode. So he doesn’t. He just squeezes his eyes shut and tries to think about anything other than the way you’re making him feel just now.
“I’ll take care of you, Bobby. I promise,” you slur between languid kisses, holding his shirt up with one hand while your other teases the hem of his boxers. “I’ll make you feel so good—” Your lips brush the coarse hair peeking from his waistline. You flash him a pair of glassy, mischievous eyes.
“And maybe—” A kiss. “If you’re real good—” Another, a bit lower this time. “I’ll let you fuck me—”
Bob face twists. His brows furrow, his eyes shut tight, his nose scrunches at the bridge. He makes a strangled noise in his throat, growing so tense beneath you that it makes him tremble.
You just freeze, frightened that you might’ve done something wrong. You did just promise to take it slow, after all — and here he is now, cumming in his boxers.
He feels the warmth of his orgasm wetting the plaid fabric and sticking awkwardly to his skin. He fails to stave off the pang of embarrassment searing his chest.
“I’m sorry,” both of you blurt at the same time.
Bob’s eyes snap open, still slightly glazed over. “You’re sorry?!” he gapes. “What are you sorry for?”
You falter for a moment. “I don’t know,” you answer and start to laugh.
The pretty sound fills the quiet tower, and Bob can’t help but laugh along with you. He tilts his heavy head back against the couch as you rise from your knees, straddling him once more and avoiding the sensitive mess in his pants.
“Did it feel good, at least?” you ask, smoothing your palms over his trembling shoulders.
Bob nods and swallows hard. “Yeah,” he mumbles, then clears his throat. “I haven’t— Haven’t been with anyone in a while, so… I guess you could say I’m… a little out of practice.”
“Don’t worry about it, okay?” you coo, ducking down to press a chaste kiss to his mouth. Even with his eyes closed, he can hear the smile in your voice as you whisper, “I’ll whip you back into shape in no time, Reynolds.”
#published by bug#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes smut#bob reynolds x reader#bob reynolds smut#robert reynolds smut#yelena belova x reader#john walker x reader#sentry x reader#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you#thunderbolts imagine#thunderbolts#thunderbolts x reader#yelena belova x you#yelena belova x female reader#john walker x you#john walker x y/n#thunderbolts headcanons#robert reynolds x reader#robert reynolds x you#robert reynolds#robert reynolds imagine#mcu headcanons#mcu drabble
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size kink
── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──
Pairing | Jason Todd x reader
Summary | He as a size kink. That’s it lol.
Warnings | Smut, size kink, manhandling, praise, creampie, gaping, cockwarming.
Words | 1k
Notes | 😵💫 that fucking comic panel tho
Ao3 link | <3
Masterlist
Kinktober | day 6: manhandling + size kink

Can y’all help me come up with a title😭 I’m literally so exhausted and I just want to pass out but I have to post it within two hours for it to still be day 6 skfhsk
Jason Todd has a huge size kink… He’s so massive that it’s honestly hard not to because there are barely any female body types that aren’t smaller than him. Tall, big, buff— all smaller than him, usually by a lot too.
Especially you. You’re pretty much the same size as the average woman, but standing next to Jason— he practically dwarfs you. Whenever he holds your hand, you usually end up just holding two of his fingers because it’s more comfortable that way. Even when he places his hand on your thigh, he can completely cover the entire width of it.
Even though he loves the way it feels to hold you, how easy it is to lift you and manhandle you however he wants… one of his most favorite things is how small your cunt is too. It wasn’t abnormally small— it was proportionate to your body— but compared to his abnormally large cock? Even just compared to his fingers, you could barely take it.
He always tried to do as much foreplay as possible because, even though he thinks it’s hot when your face scrunches up in pain as you do your best to take him, he doesn’t actually want to hurt you or make it not good for you. So he usually eats you out, slowly working you open on his fingers. He almost always gives you at least one orgasm before even attempting to fit his cock inside you, but even after the time he made you come over and over again for two hours straight, you were still so fucking tight.
You let out these soft whimpers and sounds of pain that make his cock throb. Sometimes you gasp out and desperately cling to him, trying to ground yourself. He always eases his cock in slowly, holding your hand or cupping your cheek and whispering soft praises into your ear.
“So good at taking my cock, baby. I’m almost halfway.” You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, focusing on taking deep breaths and relaxing your muscles. Jason couldn’t help but look down between your bodies, watching his cock slowly disappear into your tight heat. “Almost there, princess.” His voice was low and thick with poorly restrained arousal. When he finally bottomed out, you let out a pained whimper and he closed his eyes, trying not to bust his load right then and there.
“Such a good girl. You’re doing so good, baby.” He murmured tenderly, leaning down to kiss over your neck as his hand snaked down to rub your clit. You usually signaled whenever you were ready for him to start moving and he’d slowly draw his hips back, then push in again at the same pace.
Sometimes though, he’d stand and hold you in the air, lifting you up and down on his cock, limiting your squirming significantly. Or if you were riding him, he’d grab your hips and move you however fast and hard he wanted— even if you put all your strength into staying seated or moving away, he was always stronger than you. It took practically no effort for him to lift you up and down, fucking you like you were his own personal sex doll.
While he usually liked being able to kiss you and watch your expression contort in pain as your walls were forced to accommodate his cock, he also liked putting you on your stomach. Sometimes he’d put you on your knees and push your face into the bed, but he liked laying on top of you even more. With his large legs caging in your much smaller ones, it made you even tighter. He loved being able to completely lay on top of you and wrap his arms around you, forcing you to feel every inch of his thick cock going in and out of your pussy. That position always made you feel trapped, but more in an exciting way rather than an anxious way because you knew he’d get off of you in a heartbeat if you told him to.
“That’s it… Be a good girl and just take it, baby.” He whispered breathily, lips brushing your ear. You let out a choked moan and he moved his hand to squeeze your neck. “You just lay there and let me use my favorite little fleshlight.” Every single time— without fail— your cunt would get impossibly tighter when he talked to you like that.
Something else he loved; the amount of come he released was proportional to his body as well… Sometimes he liked to paint your pretty face, completely drench you in his seed, but usually he liked filling you up. He liked dragging his hips back until his cock finally dislodged from your tight pussy that was practically trying to suck him in, and watching his come dribble out of your gaping hole, down your puffy folds.
“Oh, look at you, baby…” He cooed, voice raspy and thick. You whined and squirmed, enjoying the feeling of him filling you up and his seed leaking out of your abused cunt almost as much as he did.
“Squeeze that little cunt, princess. Try to keep my come inside.” He ordered softly, grabbing your ass and pulling you open to get a perfect view of your holes. He watched them flutter, but even when you tried your hardest, his cock had stretched you out too much for your hole to be able to tighten up again so soon.
“Poor thing… can’t keep my come in that needy little pussy.” He chuckled, collecting the leaking come on his fingers and pushing it back into your hole. “But that’s okay, baby. I’ll help you…” you let out a choked moan when he forced his cock back in, stretching you once again, “keep you nice and plugged up, huh?” He laid down over you again, but turned so you were both on your sides in a spooning position with his cock still deep in your pussy— It would usually stay there until you fell asleep, but sometimes only until he got worked up enough for round two.
(I’m still bad at ending one shots lol)
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