#I love his dirty talk- it's so degrading- | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

satrs · 1 day ago

Text

Say please.

SYNOPSIS. He falls under your control, lost in a messy mix of power, desire, and reckless passion. How far will he let you take him?

TAGS. MDNI! 18+ CONTENT!. unprotected intercourse. subby guys !!! Bréeding. size k!nk(?). a lil' soft in xav's. B job. handjob. guided màsturbation. praising. P job. Bòndage in caleb's. degradation in caleb's. chokíng in caleb's. dirty talk. edging. overstim. nìpple play. riding. Use of "good boy". TEASING. needy/shameless caleb. bratty sylus & rafayel. blindfolding in zayne's. mention of marrige in zayne's ^^.

FEAT. Xavier. Zayne. Rafayel. Sylus. Caleb. xfem!reader

✎ A/N; I'm ovulating so here ya go. D!CK THEM DOWN! D!CK THEM DOWN!. I’ll never beat the gooner allegations Sighhh. Have a nice read and day/night! <3

XAVIER ・❥・Lazybones!?

"You know",

You lean down, brushing your fingers through his golden strands, feeling their silkiness between your fingertips before cupping his face gently, tilting it up so he had no choice but to meet your gaze. His lashes flutter, pupils blown wide, his lips parted as a soft, needy whimper escapes him.

“You’re such a lazy boy, Xav’,” you murmur, your voice both teasing and firm. “I think we need to change that, don’t we?”

His breath hitched, his expression betraying just how much he needed this—needed you.

“Y-yes,” he whispers, voice trembling, his fingers twitching at his sides like he was waiting for permission to reach for you. “Please.”

A small, satisfied smile tuggs at your lips.

You lean down, capturing his lips in a slow, deliberate kiss. It's deep but unhurried, your mouth moving against his with a gentleness that belied the control you held over him.

Control you knew he loved.

You let it linger just long enough to leave him breathless before pulling back, a slick line of saliva connecting you both as you relish in the way he let out a soft whine, his body instinctively following, as if seeking more.

His chest rose and fell beneath your touch, his skin warm beneath your fingertips as you trace slow patterns down his torso, mapping the lean lines of his body. You're not in a hurry because, why would you? This is something to be savored.

“I want you to touch yourself for me, Xav'.” you murmur, voice calm but commanding.

His breath hitches again, and he let out the tiniest whimper in protest, his thighs pressing together for a moment before he hesitantly moves his hands. “Baby, please” he mumbles, babbling, even, barely audible, but obeyed nonetheless.

You watch him, every movement, every flicker of expression, your own fingers continuing to trace his skin, teasing, but never quite giving him the relief he sought.

You lean in, lips grazing the shell of his ear as you whisper, “Good boy, doing so well for me. Keep going.”

A shiver runs through him at your praise, his breath coming in soft, needy gasps as he follows your instructions. His movements become more eager, more desperate, but you not going to give in just yet. You reach down, your hand ghosting over his, guiding him, controlling the pace, making sure he didn’t rush.

“No need to hurry,” you sooth, voice a soft murmur against his skin. “Want you to feel everything.”

He whimpers at that, head tipping back against the pillows, exposing the elegant curve of his throat as another desperate sound escapes him. The sight's intoxicating.

His Hair splashed onto the pillow in a halo, rosey cheeks evident on his porcelain skin. Shallow breath against the shell of your ear as your fingers just barely trace at the base of his pained cock, pre spurting in need.

Your fingers slide down, intertwining with his, movements slow and calculated. He lets out another needy whine, breath stuttering, his body trembling beneath your touch. You take your time, drawing out every moment, the reapearing schlick schlick, schlick sound of his hurried wrist turning his brain into a mindless goo.

“Look at me, Xav'.”

His heavy-lidded gaze snaps to meet yours, pupils blown, lips trembling as he lets out another quiet plea. “Urghhh, P-please, I need—need you.”

Finally, you position yourself above him, thighs caging his shacking ones inbetween them, guiding his hand away and replacing it with your own.

He lets out a broken sigh, his fingers gripping the sheets as he surrenders completely to your touch. His body's yours to command, every breath, every movement dictated by the unspoken rhythm you set.

Your thumb catches onto his sensitive tip, draaaaging along his leaking slit so tortorously slow, wicked even. “Such a sweet boy,” you murmur, tracing the curve of his jaw before pressing soft kisses down the column of his throat. “So good for me.”

His fingers tremble as they clutch at the sheets, his legs shifting restlessly, breath coming in soft, uneven gasps. Every time your fingers catch onto a prominent vein along his shaft, he let out the most delicate whimpers, his body pliant beneath you.

It's a symphony of desperate need, each note echoing his obedience to you and you only.

You move with patience, savoring every tremor, every breathless gasp that leaves his lips. His body arched instinctively toward you, his moans growing more desperate, more pleading. “Please, pleasepleaseplease—”

You hush him with another kiss, deep and slow, sighing into his mouth as your fingers never cease their careful exploration. “Shhhhh,” you usher against his lips, “just let me take care of you.”

His head lolls back against the pillow, exposing his flushed skin, his chest rising and falling in uneven rhythm. The soft, whiny sounds that leave him sent a thrill through you, a heady mixture of power and devotion surging in your veins.

Time seemed to slow, stretching each second into something tangible, something euphoric. His every movement, every sound, is an offering to you, a wordless expression of trust and desire. The way he looks at you, eyes glossy with need, lips parted as if searching for the words to beg properly.

It makes your heart race.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” brushing your fingers over his wet, parted lips. He instinctively kisses your fingertips, sloppy, another soft wail slipping from his throat.

He nods, barely able to form words, his body shivering as you continue to toy with him, drawing out his pleasure, making him feel every ounce of what you're giving him. “Only for you,” his, voice breathless, rushed and desperate.

You reward him with another lingering kiss, swallowing his whimpers, fist twisting around his girth with tender control. His hands cling to you weakly, his body pliant beneath your touch.

Every movement, every sound, tells you exactly what he needs, and you give it to him in slow, deliberate jerks, focusing in on his keen crown, drawing out the moment until he's trembling from the sheer intensity of it all.

And when you finally allow him release, a deep surrender that leaves him panting beneath you, utterly spent yet completely at peace.

Fingers coated in his white, sticky semen, twitching cock still firmly in your hand as you milk him to the last drop, the lewd whines follwing suit. His fingers weakly reach for you, and you pull him close, letting him sink into your warmth, his soft, satisfied sigh filling the space between you.

“Good job,” pressing a kiss to his temple, you brush damp strands of hair from his face. He nuzzles into your touch, a sleepy, contented hum escaping him as he melts against you.

ZAYNE・❥・ So sensitive!

“My gosh, Zayne,”

you muse, fingers dancing over his glistening skin. Zayne shudders beneath you, his breath shaky as he grips the sheets. The warm glow of the bedside lamp casts soft shadows over his flushed form, every inch of him betraying his need.

You’re perched right above him, hips rolling just enough to tease, to keep him on edge. God, he's about to loose his mind.

He’s always so composed, so in control in every other part of his life, but here, with you, he’s wrecked, bare to your mischevous antics.

“Now, now, what’s got you so worked up, hm?” Your voice drips with amusement as you drag your fingers along his chest, feeling his heartbeat hammering beneath his skin.

"You know damn well—"

His lips part, but all that comes out is a heavy groan. You smile, leaning down to brush your lips against his jaw before whispering, “You can use your words, can’t you?”

Zayne swallows, hard, hands twitching like he wants to touch you but knows better than to move without permission. “Y-you—” His voice is barely a whisper, so wrecked already.

You tilt your head, “I-I -I what?” you mock him, stern, comanding voice almost startling him if it doesn't only make him grow harder against your tummy.

“You’re teasing me,” he breathes, heavy, piercing gaze of his making you giggle.

"Mhm," you hum in agreement, tracing his jawline before suddenly slipping a silk blindfold over his eyes, his vision going dark.

He inhales sharply, body tensing before melting beneath you. He loves this—loves the way you take away one of his senses, making him focus only on your touch, your words, the warmth of your body against his.

“So sensitive tonight,” you murmur, your fingers dancing lower, tracing his hipbones before ghosting over his eager, angry cock, not quite touching, just enough to make him whine.

He shifts beneath you, trying to get more friction, but you lift yourself just out of reach. “Patience, love.”

"Please." Zayne’s head tilts back against the pillow, a soft sound of frustration escaping him followed by a silent plea, making a smirk dance across your features, running your nails lightly down his chest. “Please what?”

He lets out a small, needy sigh. “Please, my darling wife. T-touch me.”

“Gladly.” you muse, pressing a soft kiss to his throat before finally wrapping your tender fingers around him. His breath stutters, a deep, broken moan slipping past his lips as you stroke him slowly.

His body twitches with each movement, and you can tell he’s already close—so responsive, so beautifully sensitive to every little touch.

“My husband 's doin' such an amazing job,” you whisper against his ear, your voice sending a shiver through him. “Had such a rough day, didn't you?”

“Y-yes,” he gasps, his hips twitching up into your hand.

You reward him with a slow, deep stroke, relishing the way he trembles beneath you. But then you stop, pulling your hand away entirely, leaving him aching.

Zayne lets out a soft whimper, his hands gripping the sheets tighter. “D-darlin'—”

You interrupt him with a light chuckle, dragging your nails down his stomach. “Relaaax. M' gonna take good care of you, yes?"

Before he can even think to answer, a whine slips from his lips as you shift, finally lowering yourself onto his lap, his tip catching your clit, robbing a shriek from you. He shudders violently at the sensation, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps as you glide along his length, slow, savoring, teasing.

“Feels so good,” you murmur, your hands sliding up his chest as you lose your patience, hand grasping the base of his throbbing cock before you align it to your flexing hole, sloooowly sink down onto him.

Zayne lets out a deep, broken moan, his head falling back against the pillow as you begin to rock your hips at a steady pace, thirsty hips claiming him, leaving him breathless. His hands twitch at his sides, wanting to hold you, to ground himself, but he knows better than to mess this up.

“That’s it,” you praise, rolling your hips just enough to drive him wild. “Taking it so well. C'mon, don't be shy now. Touch me. M' your wife, no?”

His hands finally reach for you, fingers digging into your thighs, his desperation evident in the way he clings to you. You let him have this, let him hold on, because he’s been so good, so obedient.

Breath hitching, his entire body trembling beneath you as his fingers twitch, desperate, in search for your hips now, delicately wrapping them around your waist, careful and wary.

He can feel the blindfold slipping slightly from his face, his intense breath turning him light-headded— he can't do noting but releash in the pleasure of your compressed hole choking him as if you've forgotten he's your husband— as if you wanted to kill him.

“I— I don’t— Can't-"

“You can,” you whisper softly, leaning in to press a kiss against his lips, a broken whimper from you following suit “You’re doing sooo good, doctor.”

The teasing nickname only adding fuel to his spurting fire, fingers ironclad on your hips, just resting there, trying to give his mind some sense of control despite the barbarous whine of your hips and him barely able to keep up, hell— even to hold on.

The pleasure builds between you, slow and intoxicating, and Zayne is unraveling beneath you, his body shaking, his voice breaking as he gasps your name.

“I have such a sensitive husband, hm?,” you murmur teasing evident in your voice even with his eyes blindfolded, hips rocking against him in a tantalizing, almost selfish way, trailing kisses along his jaw as you guide him toward his release. “C'mon, fill me up.”

And he does.

He lets go with a shuddering cry, his entire body tensing before his cock spurts inside you with greed.

You're pressing soothing kisses to his skin as he comes down from the high, slown rocking of your hips draaaging it out further, thick spurts of cum never ending, his breath still uneven, you coo at him.

You finally remove the blindfold, letting him blink up at you with dazed, glassy eyes.

He looks so beautiful like this—flushed, spent, utterly at your mercy.

“Did so well,” you whisper, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead.

He exhales shakily, his hands still holding onto you. “You’re going to be the death of me, dear” he mutters, voice hoarse.

You laugh softly, pressing one last kiss to his lips.

“Only in the best way.”

RAFAYEL・❥・Watch but don't touch!

"Nuh uhhh. Hands to yourself."

Your bottom lip cages between your teeth at his frustrated whine, eyes closed shut as your delicate hand swats his away.

Kitten licks against his angry cock head make his eyes roll to the very back of his skull, thigh clenching at any slight movement of yours. Teasingly, you blow against his stiff length, giggling at his hip stuttering up into the air.

"N-No fair", he says with such an adorable pout on his handsome face, you almost feel sorry.

Almost.

"M' just having a little fun, don't be a kill joy now", you muse, tongue lolling out with a wicked grin to your face that just screams you're up to no good.

His head falls back against the backrest of the couch with a loud groan once his senses get engulfed by your mouth throating his cock whole, sloppy gagging sounds reapeating over and over again- going on for hours now.

His head hurts.

Your warm mouth and his cockhead prodding at your tight throat with each headbop of yours. But once your hand sneaks under his thigh, goosebumps arising on his skin as you begin to fondle his hefty, cum-filled balls—

He's losing it.

"Urghhh, js' like that, m' gonna—"

A hitched breath gets caught in his throat, hips stuttering up into your mouth. Your hand firmly presses down onto his hip, plastering him still onto the couch so he wouldn't move.

"Do it, I dare you." you spit before resuming to your sloppy assault between his legs.

His head falls back, hand brushing over his face in frustration because he knows it's a threat.

"Please, baby. Pleaseee, pleaseplease, lemme'—"

"I told you. Do it."

His neck falls down, huffy breath hot as he meets your gaze, whining. And he knows what's about to dawn uppon him at the fierce look you shot him.

He knows he's fucked.

"No. Nononono, please don't be such a meanie, cutie. C'monnnn—!"

Your wicked smirk deepens as his chest heaves, every muscle in his body coiled tight like a bowstring about to snap.

His fingers twitch at his sides, aching to grab you, to tangle into your hair and ram into your mouth, but he knows better. He knows the rules you've laid out so cruelly, and the punishment that awaits if he dares to break them.

Hell— if he acts up, he might not be cumming at all tonight.

His cock throbs against your tongue, the weight of it heavy and hot in your mouth as you pull back just enough to flick your tongue over his slit, swirling the tip with slow, deliberate swipes, milking his poor swelling, mushroomy tip to it's limits, leaking pre indicating the brewing storm to soon come.

"Ohhh, baby, babybabybaby—"

Your hand tightens around the base of his cock, squeezing just enough to make him whimper, his hips desperately seeking the friction you're denying him. You pull off with a lewd pop, a thin trail of saliva connecting your lips to his flushed tip.

"What was that?" You ask innocently, tilting your head, fingers lazily stroking along his length, lewd moisty sounds ringing in his ear making him go dizzy. "Did you say something?"

His jaw clenches, the veins in his neck standing taut as he tries to reign himself in. But he’s losing the battle, his restraint unraveling with every teasing touch, every breathy giggle that escapes your lips.

"Y-You know damn well," he pants, frustrated, his fingers curling into fists on the sheets. "Need it. Need it soooo damn bad, cutie— nghhh!"

"Need what?" You interrupt with a tight head lock of your hand around his cock, sufforcating him, feigning confusion, as you pump him slow, torturous. His head slams back against the couch, almost snaping his neck with the force, a broken groan spilling from his throat.

"Use your words."

His breath shudders. "I need to cum."

"Mmm." You hum, considering. "You know, I don’t think you've earned it yet."

His eyes snap open, dark with desperation. "W-what? H-hahhh— c'mon now! S-stop it, js' fuckin'— godddd—"

Your free hand trails up his abdomen, fingers dancing over the sculpted ridges of his stomach before pressing down against his chest, pinning him in place. His heart hammers beneath your palm, each erratic thump evidence of just how close he is to unraveling.

"You wanna cum so bad?" You coo, leaning in, breath hot against his ear as you pump him faster, the slick sounds of your hand working him over making him whimper. "Then hold it. Don't you dare let go until I say so."

A strangled noise escapes his throat, his body shaking with effort. The need to release is overwhelming, every nerve in his body screaming for that final push over the edge. But he knows you're testing him, dangling his pleasure just out of reach, and he wants, no, needs, to be good for you.

"Ohhh, you're struggling, aren't you? Cute." You purr, dragging your tongue along the length of his swelling cock, reveling in the way his cock jumps in your grasp. "Poor thing, trying so hard."

"F-Fuck, I— I c-can’t—" he stammers, his voice wrecked with restraint, muscles locked in place as his climax hovers agonizingly close. So damn close he can taste it at the tip of his tongue.

Your smirk deepens. "Not yet."

His entire body seizes, his thighs trembling violently as you suddenly stop, your grip loosening entirely. His hips jerk up on instinct, desperately seeking the friction you’ve just denied him.

A choked whine spills from his lips, frustration darkening his gaze as he watches you lean back, tortured cock throbbing with need, reddish tip pulsating angrily, hefty balls squeezing in desperate need of release, you're licking your lips, savoring the taste of him.

"Awww, did you think I was going to let you finish?" You taunt, fingers dancing along his twitching thigh. "How silly of you."

His breath is ragged, cock twitching against his stomach, still leaking, still aching for the release you've stolen from him.

"You look so pretty like this," you muse, tracing idle circles against his hip. "I could do this all night. Over and over."

A shiver runs through him, his pupils blown wide because he knows you're not bluffing.

Your fingers brush over his cock one last time, teasing, just enough to make him shudder before you pull away entirely, standing up with a satisfied smirk.

"Who knows," You stretch, letting him see the full curve of your body as you climb onto his lap, casting him one last teasing glance, before you align his oozing tip to your entrance, pussy clenching around the hefty tip in excitement.

"Maybe you'll get to cum in me. How 's that sound?"

A broken groan escapes him, his hands gripping the couch in frustration. "Yer' evil."

With one last grin you sloooowly sink down on his length, lips caged between your teeth at the tantalizing strech, his hands brushing over his face at the immense pleasure and the sheer frustration of it all.

"And you love it."

Failing in trying to bite back his loud whine, his hips stutter up into yours, fully burying himself into you with one thrust, satisfied sigh rushing from his tense chest.

"I do."

SYLUS・❥・You were saying?

Sylus was a handful— a gorgeous, infuriating handful.

Cocky smirk, sharp tongue, and a tendency to push every single one of your buttons just to see how far he could get. But that was fine because tonight, he was going to learn exactly what happens when he teases too much.

"That's all you got? C'mon sweetie, you can do better than—"

You cut him off with a sharp grind of your hips, dragging yourself along his restrained form. The friction was intoxicating, your clit catching onto his silver happy trail, pulling a sharp moan from your lips.

"You were saying, Sy?" you mock, voice dripping with amusement.

Sylus squirms beneath you, his arms bound to the headboard, wrists tied tight with burgundy silk.

His cock twitches against his stomach, already leaking precum, but you aren't ready to give him what he wants just yet. You savor the sight of him, muscles tense, face twisted in frustration and pleasure.

"C'monnn," he muses, the brat in him still pushing. "I know you can do it."

Your hips never relent, never flatten, keeping a teasing pace that has him groaning, his body desperate for more. The tight clench of your velvet, silky walls around him, caging his crown so tightly in the depth of your pussy. And then—

A whine.

The Sylus just... whined?

You pause just enough to hear the hitch in his breath, the frustrated little sound he makes, like he's about to throw a tantrum. It makes something wicked curl in your stomach.

"Just—h-hahh, just—urghhh— slow down."

A cruel smile tugs at your lips. "Slow down? But didn’t ya' wanna tell me somethin'?" You tilt your head, faux innocence dripping from your voice.

Sylus tugs at the restraints, hips bucking uselessly. "You're driving me insane, sweetheart," he mutters, and you can hear the slightest edge of desperation creeping in.

"Good," you purr. "That means I'm doing a good job."

Oh, he's loving this.

You lean down, your breath ghosting over his throat before you press a lingering kiss there, your tongue flicking against his pulse point. He shivers beneath you, but when he tries to roll his hips up, seeking more friction, you immediately lift yourself off him, denying him entirely.

"C-come back." he gasps, eyes flying open, staring at you in sheer disbelief.

"Did ya' forget who's in charge here?" you coo, running a single finger down his abdomen, stopping just above where he wants you most. "Yer' not the leader of Onychinus when you're such a desperate mess under me, my darling Sy'."

His jaw clenches. "You can’t just—"

"I can do whatever I want."

Your voice is laced with authority, leaving no room for argument and he might bust right there, you're strict words sending more and more blood pumping to his already stiffened cock. "And right now, I think you need to learn some patience."

Sylus huffs, but the way his body trembles betrays his excitement. You trail a teasing hand lower, barely brushing over his cock before pulling away entirely. His frustrated groan sends heat straight to your buttony clit.

"You wanna be a brat, Sy? Then you get to wait."

His head falls back against the pillows, exhaling sharply. "You’re an evil woman."

You hum thoughtfully. "Maybe. But m' your evil woman. Besides," You lean down, eye to eye with those rubies of his, voice barely above a whisper and mere inches away from his moist lips, "you fucking love it."

And judging by the way his body quivers, the way his cock twitches in protest, you know you're absolutely right.

Shifting, you settle between his legs, your hands bracing against his thighs as you slowly press your slick folds against his length—not letting him inside, just rubbing yourself along him, teasing. His breath shudders, head tilting back, arms flexing against the restraints as his hips jerk.

"F-fuckkk," he breathes, voice strained.

"Language, Sylus."

His groan is almost pained, and you can’t help the way your smirk deepens. You drag yourself along his length again, letting your clit catch the head of his cock before rolling back down, watching him squirm beneath you.

"Please," he finally murmurs, voice breathy and wrecked.

"Hmmm?"

His jaw clenches, but the fight is draining from him. "Please, let me feel you."

You press a slow, deliberate kiss to his rosy cheek. "Do you really think you deserve it?"

His frustration bubbles over, his muscles tensing as he tugs at the restraints again. "I—fuck—I'll be good. Just— please."

That’s all you needed to hear.

Finally, you sink down onto him, inch by inch, letting yourself stretch around his length as he groans beneath you.

His head presses back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut as a long, desperate moan spills from his lips. His body trembles beneath you, entirely at your mercy.

You waste no time setting a pace that has him unraveling, your hips rolling with practiced precision, walls tightening around him just enough to keep him teetering on the edge. He’s panting, groaning, cursing under his breath, everything, really.

"H-hahh, honey, please—" he chokes out, muscles flexing with restraint.

You grin, knowing he’s barely holding on. "Not yet," you murmur, dragging your nails down his chest. "I’ll tell you when."

His entire body trembles, and you can feel his cock twitch inside you, warning you that he’s so damn close. You clench around him, but keep your pace steady, greedy walls contracting around him, hitching his breath each time, teasing him, holding him on that delicious edge.

You grind your clit against his pelvis, your own pleasure coiling tight in your stomach, and your moans start to mix with his. The build-up is intoxicating, and you can feel yourself tipping closer to release.

Fingers finding his nipples, you roll them between your fingertips, drawing a sharp growl from him, soon latching your mouth onto one sensitive bud with a wicked smile, his body arching into yours.

"J-just a little longer," you whisper, voice aswell as your movement stuttering as he rams at your cervix, leaning over him, your lips brushing the shell of his ear. "Don't give up on — fuck!— on me y-yet."

Those words only worsen his condition as his cock jumps inside you, his moans turn into desperate whimpers, his body tensing beneath you. "I—I can't hold it anymore," he gasps, voice aswell as his confident, dominant facade cracking with need.

"You will." you command, biting down on his earlobe.

Tears threaten to well at the corners of his eyes, his body shaking, every muscle locked in anticipation. You almost feel bad.

Maybe you should cut him some slack.

"Now, Sylus," you finally whisper, voice thick with pleasure, "cum for me."

The command shatters him. His hips jerk as he spills into you with a deep, guttural moan, his entire body wracked with trembling aftershocks. The sensation of him pulsing inside you pushes you over the edge, pleasure crashing through you in waves as you cry out, body clenching around his.

For a moment, all you can hear is heavy breathing, the aftermath of pleasure settling into your limbs. You brush a hand down his chest, soothing him as he slowly comes down, his eyes hazy, a satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

"Told ya you could do better," he murmurs, breathless and wrecked.

You chuckle, leaning down to press a kiss against his jaw. "And I told you I'd put you in your place."

His laugh is soft, spent. "Guess I should nudge you off more often."

You grin, fingers tightening around the restraints still holding him in place. "Careful what you wish for, Sy'. You might not be able to handle it."

"Try me."

CALEB・❥・Lovin' it.

Caleb is a man of discipline, restraint, and quiet devotion, a gentleman in the streets and, well, something else entirely when you have him beneath you like this—fully at your mercy. Wrecked and ruined.

And loving every second of it.

You straddle his waist, watching the way his chest rises and falls, his breaths shallow and desperate. His wrists are tied to the headboard, rope digging deliciously into his milky skin, and his flushed face is a sight to behold.

Disheveled brown hair clings to his sweat-slick forehead, his lips parted as he pants beneath you, his body trembling with overstimulation from the aftermath of his previous orgasm, his sticky semen clinging to your walls.

"P-please, baby. Yer' killin' me here."

Your nails drag down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake, your hips still grinding mercilessly against his overstimulated cock, dragging out every last ounce of pleasure he has left to give.

"Oh, come on," you purr, tilting your head as you roll your hips with slow, deliberate intent, hand forcefully pushing him down onto the bed.

"You're being a fuckin' liar. You love it. Just look at yourself."

His head tilts back against the pillow, exposing the elegant column of his throat as a broken groan spills from his lips. His body twitches, trembling, and his bound hands flex, fingers curling as though searching for something to hold onto.

Oh yeah, you’ve got him.

"You like being used like this, don’t you, Caleb?" you continue, dragging your fingers up his throat, thumb pressing into the side of his jaw just enough to make his breath hitch. "Like my own personal toy."

His entire body jerks beneath you, another wrecked sound slipping from his lips. The way he responds so beautifully to every single thing you do is intoxicating, so lovestruck and utterly in love with you, falling victim to each of your antics, making the heat in your belly burn hotter, the wetness between your thighs even slicker—if that's even possible.

"Fuckin' perv," you murmur, your grip on his throat tightening just enough to make his pulse quicken. "All spread out for me, taking everything I give you, hm?"

A strangled whimper escapes him, his hips bucking helplessly. His cock twitches inside you, still sensitive, still aching, but he’s at your mercy. There’s nothing he can do but take it.

"S’too much," he slurs, voice thick with pleasure, his body trembling with each roll of your hips. "I—fuck, I can't—"

"Can't what?" you taunt, your free hand moving to tug lightly at his nipple, relishing the way his breath stutters. "Can't handle how good I make you feel?" You tighten your grip around his throat, just enough to make him whimper. "I think you can. I think you fucking love it."

His moans are nothing short of sinful, his body arching into you as if begging for more despite his protests. His flushed chest rises and falls, his bound wrists struggling against the silk restraints, but there's no real fight left in him.

He’s too far gone, drunk on the sensation of you using him like this, taking what you need over and over again, he can barely count how many times he's spurted weak shots of his cum into you. But he can't have enough. He wants more.

"Look at you," you coo, easing the grip on his throat only to drag your fingers down his jaw, thumb tracing his bottom lip. "So desperate. So needy. And you call yourself a gentleman?"

His eyes flutter open, glassy and desperate. "M'—nghhh!, m' a gentleman—"

You let out a cruel little laugh. "Not right now. Right now, you’re just a needy, pathetic mess."

He groans, the sound dissolving into something dangerously close to a sob when you shift your hips, grinding your clit against him, drawing another pulse of pleasure from his already overstimulated cock.

"I—baby—" he gasps, eyes squeezing shut as he trembles. "I'm gonna—"

"Gonna cum?" Your voice is firm, commanding, and his entire body stiffens, obeying instinctively. "You're gonna pump me full like a good boy, hm?"

His breath shudders, his fingers clenching into tight fists. "Y-yeah. Yes. Fuck! Yesyesyes. M' yer' g-good boy. All yers'."

"Mhmmm. All mine. My sweet boy."

The praise alone makes his cock twitch, balls swelling, and you smirk, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to his throat before biting down just enough to make him whimper.

"Js' a little longer, mkay?"

He moans again, his entire body thrumming with desperation.

"I bet you’d let me keep you like this all night, wouldn’t you?"

He lets out a broken, gasping sound, barely able to speak. "Yes—fuck! — yes, please. Pleasepleaseplease use me. All of me. I—"

You keep riding him, gyrating your hips against his in harsh rams, watching as he grows more desperate, thighs trembling beneath you, his moans turning into pleading little whimpers.

"Please, pips," he finally gasps, his voice barely above a breath. "Please let me cum. I'll be good. Gonna- fuh-fuckkkk! Gonna take it. M' yer' good boy, right?"

Your fingers tighten around his throat again, your other hand reaching down to trail across his chest, biting back a moan as his cock smooches your womb with his twitch alone. "You wanna cum, Caleb?"

"Yesyesyes- Wanna- need ta'," he whines, his entire body tense, voice cracking under the weight of his desperation, hands scrambling against the tight rope around his wrist. "Please—please, I need it, I need you."

"You need me?" You smirk, dragging your nails down his chest again. "Yeah, I know you do. Look at you, fuckin' ruined. It's almost p-pathetic, really."

You're right there with him, your own climax coiling hot and tight in your stomach, and you lean down, lips brushing against his ear as you whisper, "Cum for me, Caleb. Fill me up real good, yeah?"

The command is all it takes to break him.

His entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as he spills thin spurts of weak cum inside you with a deep, shuddering moan, his bound hands flexing uselessly above his head, almost ripping the headboard with his sheer strength.

The feeling of him cumming, the heat, the pulse of him inside you sends you over the edge, your own release crashing into you like a tidal wave. Your walls clench around him, milking him for everything he has left, and your own moans mix with his, filling the air with the sound of bliss and ruin.

When you finally regain your senses, you glance down at him, watching the way his chest still rises and falls in heavy pants, his golden hair sticking messily to his forehead. His wrists are red from pulling against the restraints, lips swollen from where he's bitten into them.

You smirk, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his jaw. "See? You can handle it."

His breathy little laugh is hoarse, his voice completely shot, tugging at the rope binding his hands. "D-don't know if I can survive another round, pips."

You grin, trailing your fingers over his chest, feeling the aftershocks still running through his body.

"Guess we’ll have to find out."

#◛⑅·˚ ᵂᴼᴿᴷ #♡˳ᴸ&ᴰˢ #love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #l&ds smut #caleb smut #loveanddeepspace #lads #sylus smut #zayne smut #xavier smut #rafayel smut #lads rafayel #lads sylus #lads caleb

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soldiersgirl · 2 days ago

Text

SEE ME AFTER CLASS .ᐟ

summary ⭑ good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught and the professor is about to teach his favourite student a very important lesson on responsibility. (part one found here.) cw ⭑ pornstar!reader x pornstar!soldier boy. payback era. 18+ smut (mdni). porn with some plot. corny porn names. mean soldier boy. veiled threats. professor x uni student dynamic. manipulation. kissing. finger sucking. light slapping. sir kink. spanking. degradation. praise. dirty talk. begging. shoe shining (?). protected p in v (safe sex work is important). doggy. choking with tie. name calling (slut, whore, doll, dollface, teacher's pet). female masturbation. cumming on face. swallowing. word count ⭑ 4,567 words (lmao)

honestly, you thought you would never see him again. sure, it was... fun to work with him that one time and you really thought that it would be a one-time thing. you never really understood, or dared to question, how vought thought this would help soldier boy's image, but you were proven wrong immediately. sales for soldier boy merch sky-rocketed and similarly, the sales of your previous works on VHS went flying off the shelves. the people loved you together and each fan-mail you received were begging for you to reunite. you tried for months to put it off, wanting to keep the creative control over your own career. but with vought's offers becoming more lucrative, more rewarding, you couldn't deny them or him any longer.

and here you found yourself. on another set, in another dress that was too short for your own good and another smirking soldier boy standing behind you as you got your make-up touched up and hair styled to perfection in two cute pigtails. you brushed away the stylist and you frowned at yourself in the mirror as soldier boy reached forward and tugged on your 'tails before letting out a wry chuckle. you twisted around in your chair and gave him a scowl that naturally formed whenever he was around, but it quickly turned into surprise. he was devoid of his usual supe-suit and instead a tight white shirt hugged his muscled chest with a dark-green tie nestled around his neck and round frames perched on his tall bridged nose. he tilts his head, smirking like he knows exactly what you're thinking, gazing at you over his glasses.

"ready to be taught a lesson?"

"i'm ready for this to be over already." you sneer before turning back around, just catching his smirk faltering. "still got that monstrosity you call a moustache, huh?" you nod towards his infamous pornstache, still trimmed and styled to perfection. he would have it no other way.

"god, i had forgotten how much of you bitch you were." he hums before leaning down behind you and gazing into the mirror, much like the first time you met, and running his hands over his quaffed hair, tucking down any strays. "plus, i don't remember you complainin' when you were riding my face like a fuckin' rollercoaster at disney. so shut your shitten trap if you know what's good for you." he bristles as he smooths his stache over with his pointer finger.

"looks like you didn't fuck me hard enough last time. common issue for you, isn't it?" you cock your head to the side and pout at his reflection, only earning a grunt in return as his eyes never leave his own face.

"i'm gonna fuck you so hard, you won't be able to think of anymore of those witty comebacks you got there." the threat rolls naturally of his tongue as he tightens his tie and gives himself a nod. he lazily gazes down at you and offers a sideways grin. "if i didn't know any better, sweetheart, it's almost like you're begging to be ruined." he grabs the back of your head and forces you to look at yourself as he leans in and whispers. "don't you worry, the professor is gonna show you what a good fuckin' does to a bitch, like yerself." he nips at your earlobes and shoves your head forward before straightening himself up and walking to his dressing room to prepare himself for his big scenes. although your cheeks heated up with embarrassment at how quickly you fell under his spell, you couldn't deny the way your thighs clenched together at his promising words.

after working with soldier boy for the first time, no one had really lived up to him since. you had tried to find substitutions, tried to find the same excitement and thrill that coursed through your body at the touch of his hand or lips against yours, but to no avail. although you despised the man and everything he represented, you loved what he did to you.

as you bent down to buckle your mary-janes and pull up your patterned knee socks, you took a second to gaze over the set. wooden university desks were scattered around the room with books open to random pages and pencil cases spread about the set-up classroom. an old-fashioned military green chalkboard had been hung up and the set coordinators had even taken the time to scribble some drawings and equations across it alongside today's date in the corner. to make the set more believable soldier boy's oak desk had been cluttered with various half-marked essays, a gold-rim typewriter, a forgotten cup of coffee and a plaque that read "professor b. dover". you shot up and ran your finger over the indented letters, shouting over your shoulder to anyone in earshot.

"what does the b stand for?"

"ben, my real name." you flinch as soldier boy's strong hands come up and rest on your shoulders, causing your hand to fall and your shoulders to stiffen.

"so, professor ben dover? like bend over?" you scoff as you peel his hands off you and swivel to face him. he chuckles and nods as you roll your eyes. "is everything just a joke to you?" you sigh.

"lighten the fuck up, doll. not everythin' has to be so fuckin' serious." he tugs on your pigtail again and your head jerks along with it. you wince in sudden pain and this time, it was his turn to roll his eyes. "try to have some fun for once, eh? wouldn't kill you." he walks around and settles himself in his red velour chair, running his broad hands over the armrest with a smirk, enjoying the soft fabric beneath his rough fingertips. much like how he loves them against your soft skin. he pulls and tugs on his sleeves as you silently sit down by one of the desks and wait for the director to brief you and call action. you sigh and twirl on your hair as you rest your eyes dance around the room before naturally settling on soldier boy and his hypnotic gaze. although nothing is said, everything is shared and he has you exactly where he wants and you both know it.

"so! exciting, ain't this? the people loved you the first time, so this is gonna make us all very rich." the director clutches his clipboard as his eyes flicker between the two of you, each wearing an unimpressed reaction. "right. uh, it's the well-loved storyline. irresponsible college student misses a deadline and fails the class and her caring professor is willing to bend the rules to help her pass, but..." he holds his hands out to allow you to answer, like an interactive theatre stage. you raise your eyebrows in surprise and gaze at soldier boy for a second, his expression equally as confused.

"but i gotta fuck him first." you mutter.

"exactly!" he yells in delight. he gives his clipboard a smack, glances back over at the interns and set crew as they signal that the cameras are ready and the lighting is in place. "let's make some money." he gives you both a thumbs up before he rushes back into his director's chair and yells "ACTION!". you immediately enter the mindset of your character and forget the dislike for your co-actor that simmers under your skin.

"any reason why you stayed behind after class, young miss?" soldier boy raises his eyebrows as he tugs down his circular frames and lets his eyes roam over you, sitting cross-legged behind your worn-wooden desk with a slight pout on your glossy lips. you loudly sigh and close your math book before resting your chin in your hand and gazing right back at him. as he leans back and crosses his large arms, the velour chair squeaks as it struggles to hold his muscled build.

"i know i failed your class, professor dover, but i need your help. my best friend said she had made a deal with you before and... i really need to pass." your long, manicured fingers run along the edges of your book as you nibble on your bottom lip and bat your large eyelashes at him. he couldn't help but scoff, you played the role of innocent student almost too well, but he quickly caught and corrected himself.

"you can call me ben, we're outside of office hours." he starts before settling his judging gaze on you. "but... let me get this right." the chair creaks as he leans forward and rests his forearms on the desk, sighing loudly. "you think you can just bat your little eyes at me and i'll let you pass?" you lean back, skirt your fingers across the hem of your sundress before you uncross your legs to flash your underwear and cross them again the other way whilst you shake your head. soldier boy sucks his teeth and tuts loudly at the sight of your cute underwear. he couldn't wait to dive into them, like before, and feel how wet you are for him.

"oh, no, professor. uh, sorry, ben. not at all. i wouldn't–" you stop yourself and brush your hair away from your face. "i'll do anything to pass, sir. please. my dad's gonna be so mad if i don't pass this semester." you lean over your desk, resting your chest on top of your book and exposing your cleavage to him. "are there any extra-curricular activities i can do? anything i can help with?" you let one of your sundress straps glides down and rests on your upper arm, exposing more of your breasts. "i'm a quick learner, sir." you put on your best act for the cameras, wearing the role of innocent student like a second skin; second nature. you were just simply a desperate student begging for help from her older, wiser professor.

"yeah, i bet you fuckin' are." soldier boy scoffs under his breath before running his hand over his gelled hair and looking up at you with a smirk as his eyes dart down to your chest. "listen, doll. i–" you interrupt him by shooting up and walking around to the front of his desk, clasping your hands together in desperation.

"mr. dover. please. i'll do anything, anything you want!" you lean forward and grasp his hands in your small ones, a pleading glint in your eyes. your tits are almost spilling out the top of the dress and he lets out a low groan. he could barely even contain himself any longer.

"alright, alright." he throws up his hands, palms facing forward, signalling for you to stop your begging. "i'll help you, but first, i gotta teach you a lesson on obedience and responsibility. wouldn't you agree?" it was his turn to grab your hands, holding you frozen in place as he uses the other to forcefully grab your chin. "can't believe i have a classroom filled with sluts like you." he sneers, his nose scrunching and his glasses lifting, framing and highlighting the hunger in his eyes. "i've seen the way you look at me in class. the way you fuckin' bite your lips whenever i even glance at you. the way you clench those thighs beneath the shortest fuckin' skirts and dresses, i've ever seen." he huffs as your mouth gapes in embarrassment at each of his damning words. your hands instinctively crawl up your thighs and press themselves against your weeping core, just to feel any kind of relief. you caress and glide your fingers delicately over your most sensitive bundle of nerves, wishing it was his hands instead as he continues to deliciously degrade you. "such a dirty girl, aren't ya? i bet no one's ever touched ya, the way i will. the way you really want to be touched. used." all you can do is mindlessly nod in return, a slow grin taking up your face before he gives you a small slap. you open your mouth to complain but, he takes the opportunity to jab his thumb into your mouth and admiring the way your tongue curls and slides over it, sucking on it like your life depended on it.

he couldn't wait anymore.

he pulls his thumb out, reaches around and grabs the nape of your neck before yanking you forward over his desk and crashing his lips against your own. he devours each of your mewls and moans, smirking to himself at how quickly you fall under his spell. your hands skim over his upper body, feeling the white, tight shirt under your fingertips and finally, clutching onto his biceps as you let yourself succumb to his touch. he tugged back your head and revelled in the sight of your bitten, swollen lips as you tried to catch your breath, but soldier boy was never one to be patient. he grabbed one of your perfectly braided pigtails and tugged on it, almost leading you like a dog on a leash, around the desk until you're stumbling in front of him, as he settled back into this chair. his large hand brushes over your hair, trying to get it into place before fully leaning back and just watching you. your heaving chest, your trembling knees, and your blown pupils.

"christ.." he mumbles under his breath. "take them fucking panties off. it's time for your punishment, dollface." he pushes back his chair and slaps his lap before caressing it, inviting you. tempting you. you couldn't help but gasp as it dawned on you what he had in mind and you couldn't have tugged down your cute, cotton underwear any faster. you let them stay bunched at your ankles as you leaned yourself over his broad lap, his large frame swallowing you as you lay there at his mercy. his fingers traced the hem of your sundress, lifting it slowly as he watches it dance over the curve of your ass and settle in the dip of your back. "now, you know the rules, don't ya? you gotta count out loud and so, help you god, if you stop then we start all over again until you can fuckin' get it right." he palms your ass, spreading the cheeks apart before kneading them like dough and laughing dryly as you hang your head and only nod. SMACK! "answer your professor." you yelp out in pain, your head wrenching back and your legs futilely kick.

"yes, yes! yes, sir." you whimper. he gives you a nod before muttering a "good girl." and letting a second smack reverberate around the carefully curated classroom. "one!" you yell out. SMACK! "two!". SMACK! "three.." you gasp. each smack was harsher than the last, tears brimming in your eyes. you couldn't hear much besides your heartbeat in your eyes, but between the deafening beats, you could hear soldier boy's low chuckles between each assault on your delicate skin. he smooths his palm over your cheek, laughing as you squirm under him.

"only two more, good girl. you can do it, can't you? you're a big girl now. big college student who is gonna fuck her professor to pass." his taunting tone only adds to your pain and your undeniable pleasure. usually, your co-actors were sweet and somewhat rough, but soldier boy always gave you what you desired most, no matter how much you try to deny it. a groan from you, followed by another strike to your reddened cheek and a drawn-out "fooouurr...." as you let the tears run down your face and over your gasping mouth. SMACK! "five." you cry out and hiss, your body finally relaxing as he coos, leaning down to flutter kisses over the branded curve of your ass. he pulls you up and sits you on his lap, encircling his arms around you and hugging you tight as you share short pecks that grew increasingly more urgent; the desire simmering right below the surface. he slowly pushes his off his lap and down onto the floor, sitting your slick clit right against the tip of his shoe. he flicks his chin up, indicating for you to lift your arms and he tugs off your flimsy sun-dress and throws it carelessly across the classroom.

"now, my shoe needs shining, doll. you can help with that, can't you? said you'd do anything." he leans in and down, gliding his calloused fingertip down the bridge of your nose before tapping your nose tip. "get to fuckin' work." he lifts his oxfords up and bumps them against your slick folds, making you yelp and latch onto his thigh for support. you spread your legs more and settle against his shoe, rocking your hips and rubbing your clit against the top of his shoe. the sensation of the laces and bumps against your folds and unattended clit made you feel dizzy. no man had ever made you feel this desperate for praise, for their approval. and no man had ever expected this of you, but for soldier boy, you were willing to do anything. you gritted your teeth and frowned deeply as you concentrated on rutting and grinding, spreading your arousal all over his expensive shoes, fulfilling his wishes.

he loosened his tie and patted your head as you whined and moaned beneath him, your claw-like nails digging into his full thighs. he pulled off his tie and looped it around your neck, tightening it until rested nicely between the valley of your breasts, his fingers skimming gently over you; making you shiver and moan in anticipation. his touch, his attention was like a drug you couldn't get enough of. whenever he gazed upon you it was like the sun shone only on you and made you glow in its glory. he cupped your cheek and kept your gaze on him as he bumped and lifted his shoe against your glossy folds and basked in your mewls and protests.

"hm, such a teacher's pet. willing to do anything for a good grade." he hummed, his thumb dragging across your cheek and pinching it. "let me see how much of a mess you've made." he roughly pushes you off his shoe and you land with a small yelp. he lifts his shoe an inch of the floor and a gasp falls past his lips. his eyes catch the camera as he angles his oxfords against the harsh set lights; his shoe glistening with your dripping arousal. "haven't even fuckin' touch your cunt yet and you're so soaked." he groans in approval.

"ple– please, touch me, sir. i need you. need you." you sat up on your knees and reached out, your hand grazing over his growing bulge that was barely suppressed in his black slacks. "need to pass." you mumble as you attempted to open his belt, but he quickly brushed your hands away with a devilish grin as he gazed down onto you. like a king with an effortless sense of authority and you were nothing but his adoring follower.

"needy lil' girl. huh? you need to pass, you need to get fucked, you need my cock. you think you deserve any of it, doll? hm?" his grin softens as he toys with the tip of his tie, which sat snugly around your neck. "you think you make the rules around here? since when can a ditzy slut like you make decisions?" he grabbed and tugged on it like a dog leash, bringing you to your feet and following swiftly behind. his hands reached up and smoothing the top of your head, running his hands over your frizzy pigtails, teasingly down the side of your neck, over your shoulders until they circled and tugged on your hardened nipples with a sigh of content. you stand on your tiptoes and tenderly kiss his lips, his stubble grazing against your chin and cheeks as your tongue lapped against his. each harsh tug on your nipples was followed by flittering touches, each bite of your lip was followed by a soft moan from him.

he was as harsh and untameable as the sea, but interchangeably as soft and delicate as a soft summer breeze. he gives you one final peck and places his round spectacles on your face, offering you a small smile before he leads you to stand to the side of the desk and facing away from him, out toward the classroom. behind you, you hear the promising sound of his belt unbuckling and an expectant shudder runs down your back. you twist to peek over your shoulder, but your head is immediately shoved back around and you let out a school-girl giggle. the clang and swoosh of his slacks falling to the floor, the familiar sound of a condom packet opening and a loud hiss as he lazily jerks his leaking cock.

"now do like my fuckin' name and ben dover." he chuckles to himself and thankfully, you were facing away from the camera, as you dramatically rolled your eyes before he pushes you down onto the desk by the back of your head with a grunt. you fumble as the glasses almost fall off your nose and you push them up, just in time to look back and catch the sight you had been looking forward to. his hair tousled, his shirt unbuttoned and his large cock aching to be stuffed in between your familiar folds. he ran his tip up and down your slit, coating himself in your juices and gently tapping it against your clit. your knees buckled and your heart threatened to beat out of your ribcage; you could barely wait another second. a glob of spit lands in soldier boy's rough hands as he fists his cock one last time before prodding your entrance before deliciously sinking into you. your folds and walls welcoming him as your legs shake beneath you and soldier boy shudders behind you as he buries himself deep into you. your pussy clamped down and clenched around him as he caught his breath, before tortuously dragging himself back and slamming into you with no warning. you shot forward and held onto the edges of his oak desk for support as he picked up his pace, his balls rocking into your clit with a steady beat.

"fuck, oh my god, siiiir." you drone as his tip expertly nudges against your cervix, each thrust turning your brain to mush. "fuck, fuck! ngggh–!" his harsh grip on your hips tightens as he relentlessly slams into you. his breath ragged and his eyes wild as he takes in the sight of you beneath him, all for him. in this moment, the two of you completely forget the crew on set and lose yourselves in the sensation of taking out each other's frustrations on one another. he leans forward and fumbles for a second before grabbing the length of his green tie and tugging it back. your constricted airways make your eyes flutter as he wraps it around his large fist, burying himself deeper into you. the desk groans and squeaks under the force and weight of soldier boy ramming into your aching cunt.

"i warned you." he chuckles into your ear as he picks up momentum and fucks into you at a superhuman pace. you're reminded of his harsh words from before and you silently accept your fate. "should start callin' you the teachers whore." he gasps against your neck in between vigorous thrusts, grazing his teeth against your pulsating vein. "gonna teach you how to take a real cock, how to get fucked like a real whore. you'd like that, wouldn't ya?" an absence of an answer from you makes him tug on the tie, you gasp and struggle for air before he relents. "wouldn't you, dollface, hm?" he repeats.

"yes, yes! please, oh my god. teach me, please. i wanna be your pet, teacher's pet." you choke out. he releases his unyielding grip around the tie, making you fall forward and heave for air, pushing the sliding glasses up your nose again.

"rub your lil' clit for me, yeah? let the professor see how much you wanna pass his class." without delay, you slide your hand between your thighs and clumsily rub your wet clit in frenzied circles. your climax was charging at you like a runaway train and soldier boy could sense it in how you squeezed his length. "cum for me. cream all over your professor's cock." he mutters, sweat dripping down his forehead. with a few added thrusts and harsh pinches to your clit, your climax washing over you as your knees buckled whilst soldier boy used his strength to keep you in place. the wet squelch of your cunt drove soldier boy crazy, a ring of cum forming around the base of his cock and it almost tipped him over the edge. "are you my good lil' girl? my good lil' student?" he whispers as he pokes out his tongue, gritting his teeth as his abdomen tenses. so close.

"yes, sir. your best girl, best student! your good girl." you cry out and that was all he needed. to your surprise, he yanks himself out of your inviting cunt, pulls off his condom, yanks you off his desk and down onto your knees.

"open your mouth, whore mouth. lemme see that tongue." you lean your head back and flatten your tongue, readying yourself for his release. he pumps himself a few times before staggering closer to you, grabbing the top of your head to steady himself and loudly sighing as he cums all over your face. his mouth agape in awe as his seed glides down your heated-up cheeks and into the crevices of your mouth. he guides his tip down and rests it against your tongue as the last of his cum glides down your throat before you suck on his tip. "oh, fuck, doll..." he moans as you collect the scattered cum on your ring finger and suck it clean, showing your empty mouth to him.

"did i pass, sir?" you gaze up at him with those damn trusting eyes and swollen lips, your chest still heaving.

"with flyin' fuckin' colours." he huffs, brushing his loose hairs away from his face and grabbing his glasses back from you and lifting you back to your feet. the heels of mary-janes clicking against the wooden floorboards. "flying. fucking. colours." each word spoken in between chaste kisses.

"CUT!"

like every time before, your manager pushes past the set crew and wraps you in your pink, fluffy bathrobe, as well as handing you a face-wipe and a bottle of water. soldier boy loosened his limbs before pulling up the slacks and buckling them, giving you a satisfied nod accompanied by his wolfish smirk.

"think i got the job done this time, don't ya agree?" he laughs, frowning as the interns crowd him and ask him countless questions. he waves them away with a grunt, concentrating his laser gaze on you again. you simply scoff in return, acting unimpressed. he bristles and sighs. "c'mon, give a guy a break. we both know the truth." his cocky behaviour cloaking his need for approval from you.

"maybe third time will be the charm. isn't that what they say?" you wink before sauntering off with your manager following close behind. soldier boy stood stunned, speechless. in that moment, he made up his mind. he was going to do everything it took to be in between your thighs again, so help him god if it would be the last thing he'd ever get to do.

a/n: and we're back. just as fun to write as the first time and i hope everyone wants a third one because i'm already brainstorming some ideas! LIKES, FEEDBACK & REBLOGS are appreciated, if you loved this! ⭑ millie's masterlist ⭑ -`♡´- tag list: @bluemerakis @legalmente-loca @faiszt @vmiina @emeraldcrs @briiverse @figthoughts @sl33pylilbunny @jasvtsc @silverwoodlynx @bejeweledinterludes @yooyieu @0ccvltism @nperoconelcositoarriba @lanasgirlfr @velvetdandeli0n @iluvdeanwinchester @cowboysandcigarettes @daylighted @valjy @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @syrma-sensei @rositaslabyrinth @blossomingorchids @deansbbyx @mads-ackles @lunaleah @diawinchester217 @sunnyteume @drakulana @k-slla @deansbeer @h8aaz @samslovebug @missus-ackles @barnes70stark (comment or inbox me to be added/taken off)

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vinnyvamppp · 1 day ago

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I NEED A FIC OF THE NO GOGGLES MARK VARIANT!!!

specifically make him THAT KINDA FREAK we already know he loves to toy with others (from his battle with the Guards of the Globe) and is crazy asf with a sense of dark humor. My fic idea is where he’s with his gf and this is their first time having sex tg and she doesn’t know about his kinks or anything since she would just take his comments of him telling her to ‘try to choke him’ or basically to inflict pain on each other as a joke.

Slap Me Silly

Note: This is yummy, we like this, we NEED this. I've seen maybe two fics have elements of this, so lemme just—slide myself in. (the pic is a hint SOMEONE TIE HIM UP)

Warnings: Nipple play (most male receiving), Switch Lenless!Mark (YOU CAN'T TELL ME HE DOESN'T OCCASSIONALLY BOTTOM), Dom!Reader, Riding, Tit Squeezing, Biting, Dark Humor, Choking, Degrading, "Good Boy", Slapping, Dirty Talk, Porn w a Plot, Smut, and ofc the over usage of 'Dude'.

No Goggles/Lensless!Mark x Dom!Fem Reader

Word Count: 2,303

The apartment is quiet, save for the occasional hum of traffic outside and the soft rustle of fabric as you shift on the couch. Mark is stretched out beside you, legs spread like he owns the place—because, in his mind, he does. His grin is lazy, all teeth, and his dark eyes flick toward you with that ever-present glint of mischief.

“You keep staring at me like that, babe,” he murmurs, tilting his head against the couch cushion, “and I’m gonna start thinking you actually like me.” You roll your eyes, biting back a smile. “God forbid.” He chuckles, low and amused, and suddenly he’s closer—leaning in like he’s got a secret to tell. “Nah, I think you do,” he teases, his breath warm against your jaw. “Like, a lot.” You scoff, pushing at his chest. “You wish.” Mark lets himself fall back dramatically, spreading his arms out like he’s been struck. “Right in the heart. Dude! That was brutal.” Rolling your eyes, you reply. “You’ll live,” you deadpan.

“Oh, I always live.” He winks, and for a second, there’s something in his expression, something dark and knowing, a reminder of just how much weight those words actually carry. But then it’s gone, replaced by that ever-present smugness. His fingers drum against his thigh. “Y’know, I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Ha. Ha.” He smirks. “No, but really—since we’re both so hopelessly in love or whatever—” You snort, but he ignores you. “—don’t you think it’s weird that we haven’t, y’know, done anything yet?” His eyebrows lift, feigning innocence. “Not that I’m complaining. I like a good slow burn. Gets me all antsy and horny.” Your stomach tightens. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it. Mark is—well, Mark. Infuriating, cocky, always pushing just to see how far he can go. But he’s also magnetic in a way that makes it impossible to look away. And when he wants something? He gets it.

Still, you manage to play it cool. “I figured you’d explode if you went more than a week without getting laid.” Mark grins, tilting his head. “I do like explosions.”

You shake your head, but before you can throw another sarcastic remark his way, he moves. Fast. Not using his full speed—he’s learned his lesson about freaking you out like that—but enough to make your breath hitch as he’s suddenly towering over you, hands braced on either side of your hips. “Wanna hear something funny?” he asks, voice dropping just enough to make your pulse quicken.

You swallow. “That depends.” His fingers trail up your arm, barely touching, just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “You remember all those times I told you to try and choke or slap me?” You let out a brief chuckle. “You mean when you were being weird?” Mark hums, lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “See, that’s the thing—you think I was joking.”

Your breath catches. His eyes are half-lidded now, watching you with something between amusement and hunger. “…You weren’t?” Mark smirks. “Dude. You have no idea.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours. You stare at him for a second, searching his face for any sign that he’s messing with you. Nothing. Just that same cocky, lopsided smirk, like he knows something you don’t. His grin progressively widens as you open your mouth to speak, “You have to be kidding.” Mark tilts his head, feigning offense. “Why would I joke about something so serious? Dude, I’m hurt.” Here he goes again with the dramatics. “Oh, I’ll hurt you, alright.” The words leave your mouth before you can grasp them, but Mark’s eyes light up like you just handed him a winning lottery ticket.

His lips part slightly, tongue flicking out to wet them. “Please do.” You let out a laugh—sharp, disbelieving. This idiot. He’s always like this. Pushing buttons just to see what happens. You stared, more interested than before, your head shaking. “You’re insane.” Mark doesn’t miss a beat. “And you love it.”

You roll your eyes and, without thinking, lift your hand and smack him across the face. A sharp pop echoed as your palm struck his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Not hard, just enough to wipe that smug look off him. Or, well. That was the intention. Because instead of looking shocked or offended, Mark just stares at you. Slow blinks. Chest rising and falling a little too deliberately. “…Holy shit.” He gasps, making you hesitate.

He lets out a breathy laugh, touching his cheek where you slapped him. Then, with a grin that is way too excited for comfort, he looks back at you. “Dude.” His dark eyes go heavy-lidded, lips parting slightly as he exhales slowly, shaky, and wrecked like you just did something unspeakably good to him, and he’s already desperate for more. You blink. “What?”

“Do that again.”

You pull back slightly in hesitation, wondering how you even scored this crazy fuck. Taking notice, Mark clicks his tongue, shaking his head like you just deeply disappointed him. “C’mon, Dude. Don’t be like that.” He leans in again, voice dipping lower. “I liked it.” Your stomach flips. You open your mouth two seconds away from calling him an absolute freak, but Mark beats you to it. “See, this is why I keep you around,” he muses, like he’s talking to himself. “You get me.” He rasps with an estranged fascination, seemingly savoring the sting against his cheek. “I literally do not—”

“—you do, though.” He gestures vaguely. “Even if you pretend you don’t. Which is, like, really cute, by the way.” He pauses dramatically with a slight sing song “And hot.” You exhale through your nose. Okay. Fine. He wants to be weird? You can be weirder. So, with the most exaggerated sigh you can manage, you lift your hand and slap him again. This time, it’s harder. The slap lands sharp and sudden, a crisp crack that echoes in the quiet room. His skin is warm under your palm, the impact sending a fleeting sting through your fingers, while the faintest thrum of satisfaction lingers in the air between you. Mark's head tilts slightly from the force, but the way he laughs is low, throaty, and giddy. The kind that sends something hot and electric through your spine. His gaze snaps back to you, darker now. “Oh, yeah,” he breathes, voice thick with something you don’t quite know how to name yet. “That’s the stuff.” Your gaze flickered lower, his hips fidgeting. He was hard.

Mark leans in, close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath against your lips. He’s still grinning like he’s just won the lottery, panting like an excited mutt before he whispers, “…Your turn.” You took this as an invitation to explore his other kinks, his willingness empowering you like never before. The space between you ceased to exist in an instant, your bodies pulled together with an urgency that set your skin ablaze, his lips claiming yours like a force of nature. Groans filled the space within your mouths, his sloppy kisses trailing lower over your neck. You deserved such romance for your first time, but his body was already seething for more. His hand reaches forward, fingers tingling with excitement as they curl around your throat. He forces you down against the couch, the pressure against your windpipe causing you to gasp. Before he could do more your hand lashes out, striking his cheek with a resounding slap. He paused, welcoming the change from his usual dominance. "Fuck yeah," he growls, his voice thick and eager. "Don't hold back, babe."

Emboldened further, you push him back and climb onto his lap, straddling his hips. You can feel his hard already weeping cock pressing against your clothed sex, the heat of him seeping through the thin fabric of your panties. You grab his throat, squeezing just enough to make him gasp. "You like this, don't you? Being used like a little bitch?" You insulted, testing the waters.

Mark's eyes flutter closed as he lets out a shuddering moan. "Yes," he hisses, his hips bucking up against you. "I fucking love it." His hands grip your thighs tightly, fingers digging into your skin.

You tighten your grip on his throat, feeling his pulse jump under your palm. "Beg for it," you demand, grinding your cunt against his straining erection. "Beg me to choke you while I ride your cock." Mark's eyes snap open, gleaming with satisfaction. "Please," he rasps, his voice strained from your hold. "Please, please, choke me while you use my dick. I want to feel you squeeze the air from my lungs as you cum all over me."

A thrill runs through you at his words, at the complete submission and desperation in his voice. You release his throat, only to fist your hand in his hair, yanking his head back. "Good boy," you purr, before crushing your lips against his in a fervent kiss. You rake your nails down his skin, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

You whimper into his mouth, his hands moving to your ass, squeezing and kneading the flesh. You can feel him throbbing against you, his cock leaking pre-cum into his pants. Breaking the kiss, you lean back and hastily remove your top, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His fingers follow suit, bringing his shirt over his head as he refuses to blink even once. "Fuck yes, Mistress." He groans, voice strained as his eyes glued to your tits. "You're so goddamn sexy." His lips nearly prepared to worship you.

It was odd, you stared down at him enjoying the power you have over him. He could easily turn the tides at any moment, but he was so willing to fuck you with such courtesy. Your fingers gently tapped against his throat, just threatening, begging him to make a move that would cause your grip to tighten. Mark immediately sits back, panting and red-cheeked. You lift your hips, his hands shove down your panties and help you kick them off. Then, with a courage-building sigh, you line up his cock with your dripping entrance. Mark groans, his hands flying to your hips. "Need to feel your tight pussy around my cock." Without warning, he slams you down onto him, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion. You both groan at the sudden intrusion, Mark's head falling back as his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. "Oh god," you moan, savoring the feeling of him stretching you open. "You're so fucking big, where were you hiding this thing?!"

"I'm gonna fill this pussy up so good," Mark declares between giggles, his hips starting to move beneath you. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it's leaking out of you." The dirty words only spur you on. You start to ride him fast, your hips slamming down onto him as you chase your pleasure, barely allowing yourself to breathe. Your hand never leaves his throat, tightening and loosening in time with your movements. Mark's face is flushed, his eyes glassy with lust as he bucks up into you, meeting you thrust for thrust.

"Harder," you demand, squeezing his throat tighter, his eyes rolling back. "F-fuck me harder." Mark lets out a choked groan, but does as he's told, slamming up into you with renewed vigor. The new angle has him hitting depths you didn't know existed, making stars burst behind your eyelids with each thrust. You can feel the pressure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter as he pounds into your g-spot. Releasing him from your ever-desired grip, he protests, his hips punctuating as you let out a yelp. “Dude..!” He whines, exasperated before a resounding clap echoes against his cheek, his face growing warm as blood swelled. “Again! Again…!” He encouraged, and you followed suit devilering smack after smack. The feeling only rousing him more as his hips pressed further.

Arching your back forward, your tongue finds the blistering streaks left from your nails. Soothing them with the soothing stroke of the muscle, you lick over his nipples, teeth tugging on them gently. The small buds hardened slightly from the cold air, and his grunt echoed from above. “Holy shit... yes!” Coming up for air, he returns the favor, hands leaving your ass and latching onto your tits as he squeezes them like stress balls. It's painful, he knows but he attones as his thumb traces rings around your areolas causing mild pleasure.

Your hands returned to his throat, tightening like a vice. With a strangled chuckle, his cock twitched inside you as he floods your pussy with his hot seed. The feeling of him pulsing inside you, the overwhelming sensations overloading your senses, and the obscene squelching sounds of his cum filling you pushes you over the edge. You throw your head back with a scream as your orgasm crashes over you, your cunt spasming as you gasp. Were orgasms always meant to feel this strong?

Mark groans as he feels you contracting around him. "Milk my cock dry. Take every last drop." You continue to ride him through your climax, grinding your clit against his pelvis until the last waves of pleasure fade away. When you finally collapse against his chest, both of you are panting and covered in sweat.

You could barely catch your breath when he spoke up. "Dude, we're definitely doing that again," you murmur against his chest, exhausted, he chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath you. "Hell yeah we are." He says to himself. Without missing another beat, you're suddenly flipped over, his cock hardened with renewed energy. "Ready for round two?" He asks, tracing patterns against your calves as he spreads your legs over his shoulders. Now it was truly your turn.

Can you guys tell I love submissive or freaky men? Hopefully, this fulfills your request!

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stellamarielu · 6 hours ago

Text

on the job

joel miller x female reader

summary: you and joel are forced to work together, but neither of you can get past the others stubborn attitude or contractor!joel and interior designer!reader fuck in a walk-in closet

content: nsfw, 18+ mdni, pre outbreak!joel, he’s kind of a huge asshole sorry, teasing, degradation, dirty talk, slightly dubcon, fingering, use of nicknames such as princess sweetheart and good girl, finger sucking, unprotected p in v sex, rough sex, sex against a wall, kinda public sex bc it’s on a job site?? pull out game strong with this one

author’s note: based on this lovely request. i made joel a little mean bc it felt right but at the end of the day he will forever be babygirl. also, i know very little about both of these professions so i apologize for any inaccuracies in that department

You liked to think that you were easy to work with, always polite and mindful— pleasant even.

You mostly kept to yourself, especially when you were working on a project alongside others, however, not everyone shared your cooperative mindset.

In fact, you had worked with a multitude of assholes. Men who thought they held some kind of power over you, who flourished under the opportunity to demean and mock your job like theirs was more important, but none of them even held a candle to Joel Miller.

Your paths crossed when you were hired by a pretentious, middle-aged woman in Austin to help design the interior of her new home— a home that was still under construction.

To make yourself familiar with the layout, you visited the site multiple times in the weeks before construction was scheduled to finish.

It was always an easy and uneventful trip. You greeted the workers, took a few pictures, wrote down some dimensions and then you were gone in twenty minutes tops; but that all changed the day you met Joel.

You waltzed into the house, waving to one of the men you had come to know from your previous visits and then you heard it, a deep berating voice targeted directly at you.

“Who the hell are you and why are you on my site without a fuckin’ hard hat?”

You stopped in your tracks as you were met with an unknown face.

“Uh sorry. I’m working on an interior design project for the Johnson’s. They told me I was welcome to come check out the space if I needed anything.” You didn’t know why, but your voice was coming out in compliance, the tone hushed.

The way this man approached you was incredibly entitled and unabashedly rude.

Normally you wouldn’t let some asshole like this get within two feet of you, let alone talk to you like that; but this guy had you questioning your morals for a split second. He was tall, and broad, and handsome. The southern drawl slipping from the smug curl of his lips and the flex of his biceps as his arms crossed over his chest, had your words stuttering.

“Well, until my job is finished, and the Johnson’s have the keys to their front door, I call the shots. And I don’t do well with unexpected visitors walkin’ around while my guys are trying to get work done.”

Your mouth nearly hung open at his words.

You’d barely said a word to him and he was coming at you with a disgustingly brash and assertive attitude. What the hell was his deal?

“Okay...” The word was drawn-out as it fell from your lips in annoyance.

“Well, it’s kind of funny, because this is probably the fifth time I’ve been here, and none of your guys seem to give a rats ass, so how about you let me do my job and I’ll let you do yours.”

Finally, you had gotten past the stranger’s criminally good looks and stuck to your guns.

There was no way in hell you were going to let him reprimand you for doing your job. Afterall, you had every right to be here.

“Yeah well, my guys will let you do whatever you want when you’re prancin’ around here in tight little dresses and high heels. You think they’re just bein’ nice for the hell of it?”

His irritation was masked by amusement as he looked you up and down, dramatically raking his eyes over your body.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but I’d really appreciate it if you could just drop the attitude and keep things professional.” The quality of your voice was stern, juxtaposing the way his eyes on your body had you suddenly feeling a rush of heat throughout your chest.

Anger.

The warmth was an angry fervor, definitely not one of lust or temptation. It was a burning irritation for the man standing in front of you, not a curious warmth for how his eyes clung to every curve of your body, taking his time drinking in any exposed skin.

His smile widened as he watched you falter under his stare. “I’ll drop my attitude when you drop yours sweetheart.”

“Listen, Mr-“

“Miller. Joel Miller.”

“Okay, Mr. Joel Miller. I have work to do, so I’m just going to walk past you, take a few notes and I’ll be out of your hair. Deal?”

“Fine. But if I see you back here again you better be wearin’ a hard hat. Don’t need any trouble because you trip and hit your pretty little head.” He let his eyes wander down your body once more, his voice full of sarcasm.

“Yeah yeah, got it boss.” You scoffed as you pushed past his broad frame. You didn’t turn to look back, but you could practically feel his eyes burning into you as you swayed into the entry way, hoping it was the last time you’d ever have to speak to him.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t.

You ran into Joel a few more times, each meeting more infuriating and demeaning than the last. He always had a smart comment on his tongue or a mocking intention in his voice.

Joel Miller had quickly become the bane of your existence; yet, for some reason there was a part of you, deep down, that always hoped to run into him when you went to scout out a new project for the house.

Maybe because he was undeniably handsome, always walking around with a charming smirk on his lips and a devious glint in his big brown eyes. It was almost as if he were challenging you— seeing how far he could push you before you snapped.

He continued to test your patience as you now stood in the giant walk-in closet off the primary bedroom.

You were trying to establish a color scheme sophisticated enough to fit Miss Johnson’s impossible to please pallet while Joel was making unnecessarily loud noises across the room.

He was far from graceful, the slamming and pounding of tools was all you could hear as he worked on one of the many intricate shoe shelves on the wall.

“I thought this side of the house was done.” You were speaking without looking in his direction, your eyes following the paint swatches on the wall.

“Was.” Joel’s voice was gruff as he continued working.

“Until the queen decided she needed more storage for all her designer shit.” He was chuckling at his own words, side eyeing you from his spot kneeling on the floor.

“You are genuinely the most unprofessional person I’ve ever met.” You dismissed his rude comment about the woman you were both employed by.

“That right?”

You refused to look at him, but you could hear the delight in his voice.

“Absolutely.” Your response was curt, a quick and straight-forward delivery.

“Good.”

As if you couldn’t hate him more, the word leaving his lips had you turning your head sharply in his direction, an appalled expression plastered across your face.

“God you get on my last nerve.”

“That right?” Again, his lips tugged into a smirk as he looked at you.

You raised your brows in annoyance with a single nod of your head at his question.

“Good.” His voice was taunting as he watched you shake your head in frustration.

You brought your eyes back to the wall in front of you, not giving Joel another second of your attention.

After a few seconds of silence his deep voice broke into the room. “You know, if you weren’t so uptight, maybe I’d ask you out for a drink sometime.”

It took you a minute to register his words. Was he implying that he wanted to ask you on a date while insulting you at the same time? What a fucked-up, backhanded compliment; one that had your chest stirring with warmth.

“Well, I guess it’s too bad I’m such an high-strung bitch then.” Sarcasm dripped from your words as you kept your eyes trained ahead, your head spinning from Joel’s implicit interest.

“I doubt you’d last one minute in the bar I’d take you to anyway.”

His comment had your head snapping back again. This time his eyes were already on you, waiting to see a reaction.

“And why’s that?” Your voice cut through the room at his assumption.

“Because it’s not exactly a five star establishment, and I think you’re just like all these pretentious fucks you work for.” He raised an eyebrow at you before turning back to the shelf in front of him, tending to a few finishing touches.

“Always so put together, walking around here with your shoulders high.” He was nonchalant as he criticized you, hands busy taking measurements, not even paying an ounce of attention to the dirty look you were currently shooting at him from the other side of the room.

“You think you’re better than everyone, but you’re just another pretty face with an overblown ego.”

There it was. The final blow that had your body tensing with anger.

You couldn’t believe that just a few seconds ago you were letting him flatter you, swooning under the smallest inkling of positivity he threw your way.

He was the worst kind of guy, the kind that built you up just to tear you down. The kind that wanted to make you feel worse about yourself so you would go running to him for a semblance of positive reinforcement.

Joel Miller liked the chase— thrived off being such a douchebag that women somehow ended up falling on their knees for him. But you, you weren’t going to be that woman.

“Me? Talk about a massive-fucking-ego, take a look in the mirror Miller. You’re the one always making sure I know my place around here, acting like a fucking sociopath. It’s like you get off on being an asshole.”

He stopped what he was doing and looked directly at you, his expression unreadable, like your cruel words caused a switch in him to flip.

“Maybe I do.”

“What?”

“Maybe I like gettin’ under your skin, watchin’ you get all flustered.” He spoke slowly, setting down his materials and standing to his feet.

“Think it’s kinda cute. You’re always tryin’ to act all big and bad, but I know I make you nervous. I can see it in the way you look at me.” He didn’t move, the smirk on his face causing your eyebrows to furrow in irritation.

You crossed your arms over your chest, standing strong on your opinion that Joel was the world’s biggest asshole. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting his words get to you.

“You can stop wherever you’re going with this. I’m not here to play your little bullshit games, I’m here to do a job and get paid.”

“Who says you can’t have a little fun on the job?” His voice was laced with a deep seriousness as he set his tools down on one of the many shelves adorning the walls. You watched him over your shoulder but kept your back turned, your body still facing the wall.

“Turn around.” The command left his lips and you wanted to laugh at his attempt of authority but the sincerity in his voice stopped you in your tracks.

“What? No-“

“C’mon sweetheart, I think we both know you like bein’ told what to do.” His voice cut you off, the signature smirk on his lips sending a buzz straight to your head.

You didn’t mean to, or maybe you did, but your body turned to face him, watching intently as he continued speaking. His broad frame emphatic as he stood across from you.

“I bet you like it, having someone boss you around. Makes you feel a little inferior.”

As the words left his lips he began walking toward you.

It was a casual stroll, not intense or threatening, yet you felt your pulse racing and your posture slumping at his advances.

“Oh please. You need a reality check Joel.”

“Wanna give it to me princess?”

You kept the appearance of control as he continued moving forward, but internally you were fighting feelings of complete disarray.

You wanted to be offended— maybe even slap him across the face for his wildly inappropriate nickname and the implication of his words. But instead, you froze, his body now less than a foot away from yours and his words ringing in your ears.

There was absolutely no denying the way his statement had your thighs clenching and your head spinning. Something in his delivery, smug and dirty with his eyes holding a perverted hunger and a promise of follow through, made you weak.

You kept your body from jolting when you felt the touch of his hand wrapping around your waist, finding purchase dangerously low on your back.

“Bet you’ve never done anythin’ like this.” His voice was sturdy— rigid with power.

The weight of his hand was rough, his palm resting just above the curve of your ass. His touch was heavy yet temperate as he held you, softly pulling you’re your body further into his.

“Lettin’ some guy you barely know put his hands all over you.”

You watched his eyes carefully, your lips parted but you couldn’t find any words to fill them. You weren’t sure if you wanted to tell him to stop or keep going.

“Bet all the guys you hook up with are just as prim and proper as you. Can’t imagine that those dipshits graduating from UT with a business degree are fuckin’ you the right way.”

His other hand came to the small of your waist, the movement sending a faint gasp straight to your lips. Your reaction had Joel smirking, reinforcing his grip on your body.

“Probably don’t even know how to get you off.”

“You’re disgusting.” Your voice was a whisper. The insult that you meant to hurl his way dissolved in a pitiful sigh at the way his fingertips were latching onto you.

“Am I? Bet you like that too.” This time he leaned in, causing his words to land directly in your ear, his breath warm on your neck.

“Bet you want someone a little rough around the edges. Someone to fuck you real nice.”

As he spoke, his fingers curled into your body. His grip on you constricting.

His frame pushed into yours, sending you shuffling backward until your back was met with the solid friction of the wall.

“Joel..”

You were searching in your mind, trying to form an articulate sentence to explain why this was wrong; why you couldn’t be in this position with him.

But he had you trapped against the weight of his body— big and wide and rough.

Every single rational thought in your head dissipated, replaced by an instinctual need to have him fuck you against the wall of this ridiculously expensive closet.

He was right, you’d never done anything like this and the excitement of it— the risk, had your entire body burning with white-hot desire.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” His hands were holding your hips, pressing you into the wall with his chest dangerously close to yours.

“But I don’t think you want me to.” For a single second you could see an indication of honesty in his eyes as he looked you over, searching for any sign of distress on your face. And when he couldn’t find it, his stare narrowed and his hands held tighter, rotating your body in his grasp until your chest was pressed against the wall.

“I think,” He leaned into you, your ass pushing against the bulge in his jeans as his hum landed on the skin right beneath your ear.

“You want me to lift up this pretty little dress and fuck you nice and hard right here, against this wall.”

His hands found the hem of your dress, bringing it up just enough to bunch at your waist.

Your lower half was almost bare, the only clothing keeping your cunt from being fully exposed to him was the little black thong encasing the dripping mess that had now built up between your legs. It didn’t stop him from reaching between your bodies, pressing his thumb against your clothed entrance.

“Fuck- you’re soaked princess.” The first word was a prolonged throaty groan, the rest of the sentence fumbling behind it.

“How long you been thinkin’ bout this huh? Me touchin’ you, makin’ you beg for it.” He was having too much fun playing with you through your panties, his thumb threatening to dip into you even with the lace still covering your entrance.

He pushed against it, moving between your clothed folds and marveling at the wetness seeping through the material.

“I’m not begging.” You managed to hiss out a response, turning your head to peer at him, your cheek nearly pressing against the wall.

“Oh, so she’s always mouthy huh?”

You watched the diabolical grin eat away at his face from the power trip of having you trapped under his weight.

You could talk-back all you wanted— be as bratty and uncooperative as possible, but it didn’t change the fact that he had you right where he wanted you.

“Keep talkin’ baby, go on.” He innocently raised his brows at you, his voice taunting as the weight of his thumb danced between your legs.

“I Know you want this too. You act like you can’t stand me, but I see the way you look at me…” Your voice was quiet but strong as you held onto the last bit of composure you had left, using it to defy the man at your back.

You were trying your best not to lose your train of thought as you spoke. You wouldn’t give up the fight that easily, succumbing to his tempting words and lewd touches. You could tell Joel was used to getting his way and every muscle in your body ached to challenge him.

“The way your eyes are glued to my ass every time I walk past you.” You glared over your shoulder as the words drifted off your lips in a gentle accusation.

His dark chuckle filled the room as his eyes darted away from yours for a short second. Then his stare was back on you— more intense than before. The two of you watching each other, sitting in a pool of mutual revelation.

You both knew it.

You knew since day one that there was a shared attraction, an unspoken sexual tension hidden behind rude words and unsavory exchanges.

What was happening now was just a detonation of built-up pressure that had been stewing for weeks; evident in the wetness at your core and the bulge in Joel’s jeans.

“Anythin’ else you wanna say? Should probably get it all out before I have you all fucked-out on my cock.” His voice dropped to a low whisper as he hooked his thumb into your underwear, pulling the material to the side, not even bothering to take them off completely.

A soft gasp slid from your lips at the cool air meeting your newly exposed center, the slick pooling at your entrance only adding to the airy sensation.

“You’re so fucking arrogant.”

The words barely left your lips when you felt his touch meet your core, his fingers spreading your arousal.

You had more to say to him, you wanted to tell him how annoying he was and how you had lost every ounce of decency by letting him talk to you this way, but the words were caught in your throat as he pushed two fingers into you.

“Maybe I have good reason to be.”

Your eyes were squeezed shut at the unexpected feeling of him filling you with his fingers, yet you could hear the smirk dripping in his voice.

“You ever think about that sweetheart?”

His words were impatient, the initial drive of his fingers into your entrance was rough, but now they slowly worked into you. His movements were careful— cautious even.

It was as if he wanted to take his time, watching your body and listening to the shaky breaths leave your lips.

His hand worked between your legs, searching for the exact technique that would send you spewing profanities and crumbling against the wall.

He curled his fingertips at just the right spot, not too deep and not too forceful, just a gentle pulse that had an impulsive whimper pouring from your chest.

“Maybe I’m so arrogant because I know I’m good at what I do.” His words held a double meaning as he added a third finger to stroke your newfound sweet spot.

You almost yelped from the stretch, but you held it back as best you could, refusing to give him the gratification of your submission.

The position he had you in; back arched and ass pushed out, made it almost embarrassingly easy for the addition of a third digit as he watched them to sink into you.

You couldn’t help but hum in approval as he stroked you repeatedly, rubbing against the inviting drawl of your walls. You tried not to lose yourself at his fingertips, knowing from the familiar coil of pleasure in your core that he could have you coming on his fingers at any given moment.

“Thought you were gonna fuck me, huh?” Your voice was a string of moans as you tried your best to form a coherent sentence with his hand pushed between your bodies.

As much as you didn’t want his movements to stop, you also didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of making you finish when he’d barely even gotten his hands on you.

Knowing Joel, he would never let you live it down. He’d ride around on his metaphorical high horse and crown himself the king of female orgasms. So instead of letting him bring you to the precipice of release, you met him with a phrase of defiance. But your challenging words were really just a gateway to get what you wanted. You could put on a tough act, but at the end of the day Joel was right, you did want him to fuck you in way no one ever had— hungry and hard against the wall, right here in your client’s house.

In fact, the thought of it had taken over every fiber of your being. The anticipation of feeling him rail into you was clouding your judgement and coursing through your veins at an alarming speed.

“Think you can take it?” His growl stuck in your ears as he pulled out of you. The lewd noises of his fingers plunging into the slick mess at your folds was quickly replaced by the sound of him fumbling with his belt buckle.

“How d’you want it, huh baby? You the sentimental type? Want it nice and slow and deep? Or d’you just wanna be ruined? Want someone to be a little rough with ya?” He was asking, but you couldn’t help but note the rhetorical quality of his words as you heard the rustle of his jeans pushing down his thighs.

“That’s sweet of you to give me choice, maybe you don’t like control as much as I thought- “

Your sarcastic remark was cut short at the abrupt stretch of Joel’s length slamming into you.

“Rough it is then.” His voice was a deep grunt echoing from behind you as he paused, giving you a split second to adjust before pulling back out and thrusting into you again.

“Shit princess, didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight.”

His voice swam with amusement and pleasure as he watched the way his dick fully disappeared into you with each thrust of his hips.

Hands pulled at your waist as you felt Joel drive deeper with every breathless groan floating off his lips.

“Look at you, takin’ me like such a good girl.” The words weren’t sweet, instead they teased you, shooting out of his mouth with a mocking tenor.

You couldn’t keep your body from reacting to his praise, albeit contemptuous, the words still held a deep truth about the situation unfolding against the wall of your shared employer’s closet.

“Oh, you like that don’t ya? When I tell you what a good girl you are?” His voice was a broken growl of grunts and sighs as he fucked into you— vigorous and desperate.

His pace was unrelenting as he held onto your waist, pulling you back to meet him with every drive of his hips into yours.

He let one of his hands travel up your body until he was reaching for your jaw, tilting your head up and back until your body was arched at a sinful angle.

“See, I knew you just needed a good fuck.” His groan was right in your ear now that he held your head close to his, the grip he had on your jaw was firm.

It was becoming impossible for you to keep quiet, the strength and depth of his thrusts were causing explicit moans to skate past yours lips.

The hand that Joel was using to hold your face was now maneuvering to your mouth in an effort to muffle the obscene sounds rolling off your tongue. Two of his fingers pushed at your lips, hooking into your mouth.

“Knew that little attitude a’yours was all for show.”

You closed your lips around his digits as he railed into you, a guttural moan sliding up your throat and humming onto his fingers.

“Fuck.” His fowl groan was a direct result of your soft mouth sucking around his fingers, mimicking the way you had his cock encased between your legs.

You invited his touch onto your tongue, swirling around his thick digits and sucking him in deeper, earning a prolonged sigh from Joel as he fucked into you even harder.

Each stroke of his cock had your body pressing further into the wall— his pace was mean and unyielding, like he had something to prove.

With the hand not in your mouth, Joel reached around your body, his fingertips finding your clit and rubbing quick careless circles over the bundle of nerves.

Your body faltered under his touch, your knees slightly buckling, and if it weren’t for the weight of his body trapping you against the wall, you’d be a puddle on the floor.

He slowed his pace slightly, taking his time to find that spot along your walls again. The one that he discovered just minutes ago when he was three fingers deep in your dripping cunt.

Whines of approval vibrated against the pads of his fingertips still pressing down on your tongue. His hips began rocking into you at just the right angle— slow and deliberate, with the goal of feeling you coming undone on his cock.

“That it baby? Right there?” Again, his words were a sadistic tease, but his voice gave way to pitiful throaty whines.

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think with the way he was working you toward your release.

Everything felt so overwhelming, his unrelenting thrusts hitting you in the perfect place, his touch on your clit, rough and impatient and his fingers filling your mouth— all of it creating the perfect storm of inconceivable pleasure.

A jolt of relief surged through your body as the pressure inside you snapped. You let yourself fall further into the wall as Joel’s name slipped from your mouth in a chant.

Hearing his name on your lips in such a distant and dazed voice, had Joel’s cock pulsing. Your walls were clenching from your climax, sucking him in deeper and he couldn’t handle the abundance of warmth enveloping him.

Both of his hands came down to your hips, fingers digging into your skin as held tight.

His thrusts were merciless as he used you to reach his peak, chasing the familiar buildup of tension in his core as he drove into you at a startling pace.

Then he pulled out abruptly.

One hand on his cock, stroking just twice before spilling onto the skin of your lower back, the other pushing your dress further up your body to keep it from becoming a jizz painted mess.

Silence filled the room.

Neither of you spoke as your hands pushed against the wall underneath your palms. You stayed pressed there, Joel’s body still behind you evident in the ragged breaths leaving his chest.

Still no words were exchanged as you felt Joel take a step back, the warmth of his presence fading just slightly.

You dared to break your pleasure induced trance to look over your shoulder, only find him pulling his jeans back up his body and tightening his belt without even sparing you a glance.

You began to move until you were reminded of the thick warm mess resting on your back, keeping you from pulling your dress down.

Before you could do anything, Joel was back behind you, hooking his fingers into the waist band of your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stopped at your ankles to tap against your skin, prompting you to step out of them.

Once the lacy material was fully in his grasp, he brought them up to your lower back, using them to gather his spend. He cleaned his mess with the lacy material then pulled your dress back down to cover your lower half. A sticky residue was left on your backside as a plaguing reminder of what had just transpired between you.

You turned to face him, watching as he crumpled up your ruined underwear and shoved it into his back pocket with a smirk on his face.

“How about that drink? Could meet you tomorrow night, should be done here around five.” He was back across the room in an instant, gathering tools and not bothering to look in your direction.

His invitation was genuine, but his words lacked interest.

“I’ll get these back to you then.” His hand came to rest on his back pocket, fingers tapping against the denim holding your used panties.

A self-righteous smile sat on his face as he shot you a look of pure deviance before his eyes were back on his hands as they worked to gather his materials.

“Yeah, okay.” Your voice came out more flustered than you intended as you smoothed out your dress over your thighs.

Joel was heading for the closet door, tool bag clutched in his hand as he gave you one last gaze of victory.

“It’s a date.” The words were a grumble from his lips, the same ones that were busy parading a smug smile.

Then he left you standing alone in the small room, your mind racing around itself and your legs still trembling.

A subtle grin rested on your face as you stared down at the floor, trying to find some sort of equilibrium before even attempting to move.

The giant walk-in closet still encasing a lingering heat of reckless choices as you prepared to go on with your day— business as usual.

my masterlist

#posting this on my lunch break lmao #enjoy a little afternoon delight from me to you #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut

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rafes-slut · 3 days ago

Note

Getting back shots from rafe and when reader turns back to look at him he winks at her or gives her a cocky smile Yk something like thatttt

Look at Me

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x You

Warnings: 18+, smut, rough sex, backshots, choking, spanking, hair pulling, dirty talk, Rafe being cocky and possessive, overstimulation, slight degradation, praise, winking/smirking Rafe, no plot just filth. MINORS DNI.

You could barely catch your breath. Face pressed into the mattress, knees digging into the sheets, and fingers clawing helplessly at the comforter while Rafe held you down

The grip he had on your hips was bruising, fingertips digging so deep you were sure you’d feel them for days. His pace was brutal, hips snapping against your ass with a relentless rhythm that had you crying out into the pillows.

“Fuck,” Rafe groaned behind you, his voice low, raspy, filled with hunger. “You feel that, baby? How tight you are around me?”

You whimpered in response, back arching under his hold, and that only earned you a sharp smack on your ass, the sting making you jolt.

“Answer me,” he growled, thrusting even harder, and your whole body rocked forward from the force. “You know better than to ignore me.”

“Yes—yes, Rafe,” you choked out, the words tumbling past your lips between gasps. “So tight—fuck, you feel so good.”

His laugh was dark, almost cruel, and then his hand slid up your back, fingers tangling into your hair and yanking your head back just enough to lift your face off the bed.

“Good girl,” he rasped into your ear, lips grazing your skin. “You love it when I fuck you like this, huh? Face down, ass up, taking everything I give you.”

All you could do was nod, completely gone for him. Every hard thrust had you right on the edge, eyes rolling back as heat coiled low in your stomach.

Rafe suddenly slowed, hips grinding into you deep and hard, cock buried to the hilt, and you whimpered at the stretch, the fullness.

“Look at me,” he said, voice rough, commanding.

You tried, turning your head over your shoulder to meet his eyes—and that’s when he did it. That small, cocky smile curling on his lips, all confidence and dominance, and then—he winked.

Your breath hitched. Fuck.

Before you could even process it, he slammed back into you, picking up pace again, harder, deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing around the room.

“Yeah,” he growled, that smile never fading, his hand fisting your hair tighter. “That’s it, sweetheart. Take it. Let me see you fall apart.”

Your moans turned to cries as the pleasure built, each thrust pushing you closer, tears prickling at your eyes from how overwhelming it was.

Rafe leaned over you, chest pressed against your back, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “Don’t you dare come until I tell you.”

You whimpered, trying to hold on, thighs trembling, body quaking under his.

“God, you’re so fucking desperate. I can feel it—how bad you wanna come all over my cock.”

He reached around, fingers circling your clit, rubbing just enough to make you sob, and then he grunted, “Come for me. Now.”

And you did—loud, shaking, clenching around him as waves of pleasure crashed through you. Rafe didn’t stop, kept fucking you through it, hips relentless, chasing his own high.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he snarled, and with one final hard thrust, he spilled inside you, groaning your name like a prayer, like a curse.

He stayed there for a moment, buried deep, hands gripping you like he’d never let go. Then, that damn smile again as he pulled out, slapping your ass with a satisfied hum.

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plasticflowersinahistorycemetery · 19 hours ago

Text

exhibitionism

part VI

Pairing: SugarDaddy!Ben x Fem!Reader

Summary: He dressed you up, paraded you through rooms full of monsters, made you beg for release with a smile on his lips and a hand on your throat. He didn’t just want their eyes on you—he needed them to know you were his. Fuck the price of that drink anyway.

Warnings: 18+!, Ben once again being his own warning, age gap, language, misogyny, drug consumption, smut (kissing, biting, marking, slapping, dirty talk, clitoral stimulation, overstim, forced orgasms, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus/oral, p in v, cum on face, throttling, rough sex, semi-public sex, somnophilia, sexsomnia, dub-con, orgasm control/denial), mind games, manipulation, degradation, power imbalance, I may have missed some. (There's a bunch in this one, agh!)

Word Count: 6,817

A/N: It's done!!!!! Omg!!!! I am so sorry for how long this took. And I can only thank you guys for the reception to this series. I've loved every second of it. <3 God, do I hope I've proofread this one properly. I also LOVED writing Victoria into this one. I love Neuman so much. :') Please give me any feedback, my disgusting little mind loves hearing y'alls thoughts on my depravity. Smin signing off. Over and out. All the love.

Without further ado: EXHIBITIONISM

Power is not taken. It is given.

A glance across the bar. A drink set down without a word. A hand at the small of your back, guiding you somewhere you don’t belong.

It starts small—a single indulgence, a breathless yes.

Then, suddenly, you are on display. Draped over his lap, diamonds at your throat, whiskey on your lips. A possession. A prize. A thing to be seen.

Because men like him do not love. They own.

Friday evening.

The end of the week, the start of his time.

You stood in your bathroom, steam curling around you, skin still dewy from the bath, a towel wrapped loosely around your body as you moved through the motions. Moisturiser. Perfume. Little rituals that felt more like routine now.

The bag on your bed was barely packed. A formality more than a necessity. There wasn't much you needed to take—Ben already had everything for you at his place. Clothes, toiletries, things you hadn't even thought to buy for yourself.

You glanced around your apartment, the one he picked, the one he paid for. It was beautiful, curated, a place that should have felt like home. It didn't. Not really.

It felt like a waiting room. A place you stayed until it was time to go back to him.

Your stomach fluttered at the thought, and you weren't sure if it was anticipation or something else. Something darker.

Last weekend replayed in your head in flashes. Hot. Filthy. Unrelenting.

The sex on the floor—feral, desperate, raw. The way he dragged you against him, fucked into you with bruising force, kept pushing and pushing until you broke apart above him. The way he came with his hands gripping your hips like a vice, eyes wild, jaw tight, filth spilling from his lips.

Then later—another round, softer, slower, but just as consuming. The way he woke you up in the morning, face between your legs, hands pinning your thighs apart like he had no intention of letting you go. The low groans against your skin, the way his tongue worked you open, lazy and indulgent.

Lunch was an afterthought, a moment of normalcy that never lasted. The dinner you made? Completely forgotten the second he reached across the table, grabbed your wrist, and dragged you into his lap. The food went cold while he fucked you against the dining room chair, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your ass, growling Mine, mine, mine.

Sunday, he took you out for a drive. One of his vintage cars, because apparently, he had an entire fucking collection. The speed, the power, the way he smirked as you clutched the seatbelt while he pushed the car to its limits—everything about him screamed excess.

Then the week came, and you fell back into your other life. Classes, textbooks, essays, deadlines. But even then, he bled into it. Your remaining books arrived at your apartment, courtesy of Ben. So did a box of toys, lingerie, things you wouldn't have even known to ask for. You never questioned how he knew your sizes.

Tonight though? You had no idea what he had planned. The thought thrilled you. And maybe, just maybe—it terrified you too.

The knock came sharp and impatient, cutting through the quiet of your apartment. You blinked at the door, surprised—it wasn’t time yet. Ben was never early.

Then—

"Open up, love. Need to take a fuckin’ slash. Normally wouldn’t ask, but I’m about to piss meself."

Butcher.

You huffed a laugh, rolling your eyes as you padded over, unlocking the door and pulling it open.

He stood there, looking as unimpressed and impatient as ever, arms crossed over his chest like he had better places to be.

"You couldn’t have gone before you got here?"

"What, and use a public loo? Be serious." He grunted, stepping past you without waiting for an invitation. "Where’s the shitter?"

You just shook your head, smirking as you gestured down the hall. "Same place it’s always been. You did find this apartment, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah. I find ‘em, Ben buys ‘em. Ain’t that how this works?"

You didn’t answer. Just watched him disappear into the bathroom while you turned back toward your bedroom, finishing the last touches of getting ready. Your bag sat open on the bed, barely filled. Just a formality at this point. You didn’t need to take much—Ben had everything waiting for you at his place. Everything.

Perfume. Final touch-ups. A glance in the mirror, and you were ready.

When you walked back out, Butcher was already by the door, arms crossed again, watching you like he was assessing something.

"Ben said to make sure you got to the car safe."

You scoffed. "It’s literally right outside."

"Yeah, well." Butcher shrugged. "'E’s particular about things, ain't he."

That was an understatement.

You grabbed your bag, shaking your head as you stepped past him, heading toward the elevator. Butcher followed, hands in his pockets, too relaxed, too knowing. The car was already warm when you slid into the backseat, the city stretching out beyond the windshield as Butcher started the drive to Ben’s. You exhaled, settling in. The leather seats were too familiar now, the routine too easy.

A thought struck, and you glanced up toward the rearview mirror. "You know what we’re doing tonight?"

Butcher smirked. "Course I do."

You narrowed your eyes. "Are you gonna tell me?"

"Nope. Not allowed to spoil the surprise."

Your stomach twisted. That meant you weren’t just spending the night in. That meant Ben had plans. You weren’t sure whether to be excited or terrified. Maybe both.

The car slowed to a familiar crawl, the towering silhouette of Ben’s building swallowing the skyline, all glass and steel and quiet menace. Your stomach twisted—not with nerves anymore, not really. With anticipation. With hunger. With the ache that only he could satisfy.

Butcher didn’t say a word until he pulled to the curb. Just flicked his eyes toward you in the rearview and muttered, "Go on, then. Try not to be late next time."

You rolled your eyes, grabbed your bag, and stepped into the city’s pulse.

The lobby swallowed you whole in a hush of marble and low lighting, security nodding without a word as you crossed to the elevator. Everyone here already knew who you were.

Ben’s girl.

The elevator purred upward. Your reflection in the polished chrome walls stared back at you—lips glossed, dress strap slipping from your shoulder, hair curled just enough to look like you hadn’t tried too hard.

You looked like something curated.

The second the elevator doors opened, he was there. And then he was on you. He didn’t wait. Didn’t say hello. Just grabbed you by the waist and dragged you inside, kicking the door shut behind him with a low grunt, his mouth already crashing down on yours.

Hot. Claiming. Open. Tongue and teeth and possession.

Your bag slipped from your hand. You didn’t even notice.

His fingers found your jaw, tilting your face as he devoured you, groaning low against your lips like he’d been waiting days to taste you again.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasped between kisses, lips brushing yours, then your cheek, then your jaw. “Missed you. Been thinkin' about tonight all fuckin’ week.”

You barely got a breath in before he was on you again. Hands under your ass, palming the curves he paid for and protected like art.

Your laugh was breathless, dazed. “Hi to you too.”

He pulled back just enough to look at you, eyes hooded and greedy, lips wet and parted.

“Don’t need ‘hi,’” he muttered. “Need you. Right now.”

You melted. You always melted.

His hand smacked your ass once, hard enough to make you jump. He grinned at the reaction. “Come on,” he said, tugging you along. “Got your dress ready.”

Your heart fluttered. “You picked it out?”

“Course I did.” He looked over his shoulder with a crooked smirk. “You think I’m gonna let you wear whatever the fuck you want to somewhere like this?”

The bedroom door swung open, and there it was. Laid out like an offering. Cream satin. Barely there. Draped like water, strappy, cut to cling. It shimmered under the soft light, delicate and obscene.

You blinked. “It matches your shirt.”

Ben smirked, tugging his own cuffs down, the fabric clinging to his arms. His dress pants fit like sin, tailored within an inch of their life, the crisp line down his thigh pulling your eyes right where he wanted them.

“Yeah,” he drawled, smoothing a hand down his stomach. “Thought we’d coordinate. Make it real obvious you’re mine.”

You couldn’t stop staring at his thighs. Or his ass. Or the way the muscles in his back flexed under the thin fabric.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

His smirk sharpened. “Wanna ride it?” He asked, voice low, dirty. “Get your slick all over my pants? Hump me like a fuckin’ desperate little doll?”

Your breath hitched. You nodded before you could think.

Ben stepped closer. Close enough for his breath to ghost across your lips. His mouth hovered over yours, and you could already taste him.

Then—

“Too bad,” he whispered into your mouth. “We’re already late.”

And then he pulled away, leaving you reeling, skin hot, thighs clenching, dress untouched. You were already undone, and the night hadn’t even started.

You stepped toward the bed, the soft sigh of satin whispering beneath your fingertips as you lifted the dress. It felt like liquid in your hands—cream-coloured, near-sheer in the light, slinky and obscene, the fabric cool and supple as it slipped through your fingers. It had no sleeves, only delicate straps that promised to sit high and tight on your shoulders, leaving the curve of your collarbones and back exposed to the world.

The neckline was a shallow cowl, dipping just enough to hint at the tops of your breasts, but the real danger was the hem—indecently short, barely grazing mid-thigh. One wrong movement and the dress would bare you entirely.

Ben lounged in the doorway, watching like he was starving.

"You gonna let me see, or you just gonna stand there fondlin' it all night?"

You rolled your eyes, but your cheeks were already flushing. You turned away, stepping out of your clothes with a practiced grace you hadn’t known you’d learned until now. His gaze burned into your back, heavy and indulgent.

"Jesus fuckin’ Christ," he muttered, voice low and sharp. "That ass is a goddamn masterpiece."

You slipped the dress over your head, the satin cascading down your skin like a lover’s tongue, clinging to every dip, every curve. When you turned, his breath caught—audibly.

He stepped forward slowly, like a man approaching a shrine.

"Turn around," he rasped. "Slow. Let me see it all."

You obeyed.

His groan rumbled deep in his chest. "Fuck, baby. You look like sex and royalty had a kid."

You glanced down, brushing invisible wrinkles from the fabric, your skin prickling beneath the intensity of his gaze.

"You done ogling?"

"Not even fuckin’ close," he breathed.

He crossed to you, unhurried, one hand dragging down your arm to where your fingers were still clutching the hem.

"Heels. Now."

You slipped into the little black stilettos he’d left out for you—simple, strappy, cruel. They elevated you just enough to make your legs look endless. You felt dizzy already.

When you looked up, Ben was holding a small velvet box. He popped it open with one thumb.

Gold, emerald, and pearl.

The necklace glinted like it had been plucked from royalty. Emeralds the exact shade of his eyes, cut to catch the light and throw it back like fire. The pearls were soft, creamy, luminous against the sharper stones.

Matching earrings. A delicate clip for your hair.

“Ben—”

“I fuckin’ know,” he murmured. “They’re perfect. Like you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He took the necklace out, stepping behind you. His fingers brushed your neck, and you shivered as he fastened it in place. The cool metal kissed your skin like a promise.

Then the earrings, one by one, careful, reverent. The clip came last—nestled just above your ear, gleaming against your hair like something holy.

When you turned to face him again, his expression had darkened. His tongue swept slowly over his bottom lip, then he bit down on it, hard.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” he said, voice hoarse. “I should cancel tonight. Should drown between your fuckin' thighs instead. Spend hours there. Days. Never come up for air.”

You blinked, throat tightening. “Ben.”

He stepped in, chest brushing yours, one hand gripping your hip, the other ghosting down the front of your thigh.

“I mean look at you,” he said, nose dragging up the side of your neck. “Prettiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever seen. You got any idea what you do to me, baby? Any idea what it’s gonna take for me to keep my hands off you tonight?”

Your breath hitched.

He grinned, then reached into his pocket and pulled out something small and smooth. He pressed it into your palm.

A toy. Discreet. Sleek. Wicked.

He leaned close, lips brushing your ear.

“Put it in,” he whispered. “You got five minutes, doll.”

You swallowed hard.

He smirked. “Remote’s in my pocket. Which means your night? Belongs to me.”

The toy felt obscene in your hand. Small. Innocent, almost—until you slid it inside and realised just how not innocent it was.

You braced a hand on the bathroom counter, heart fluttering as the slick heat of it settled deep inside you. It didn’t vibrate. Not yet. But it felt like a wire pulled tight beneath your skin.

You straightened your dress, adjusted the hem. Checked your lipgloss. And stepped back out into the fire. Ben was waiting by the elevator, jacket slung over his shoulder, jaw working as he looked you up and down. He grinned the second your eyes met.

“Got it in, baby?”

You nodded once, already breathless.

“Good,” he said, hitting the button. “You look fuckin’ edible. Might not make it out of this building.”

The doors opened. You stepped in first. He followed. And the second the doors slid shut, he pressed the remote. The vibration hit low and sharp, punching a gasp out of you. Your knees buckled. Your hand flew out to brace against the mirrored wall.

Ben laughed. Deep and smug. Ravenous.

You looked up at him, eyes wide, lips parted.

He winked. Click. It stopped.

“Just checkin’ it works,” he said, casual as ever. “Wouldn’t wanna take faulty gear out in the wild.”

The elevator opened.

You tried to remember how to walk.

The air outside hit your skin like glass—cool and sharp and thick with the city’s low hum. The black car idled at the curb, Butcher leaning against the hood, arms crossed, cigarette pinched between his fingers.

He flicked it away when he saw you and pulled the door open without a word.

Ben helped you in first, one hand firm on your lower back, another trailing down the curve of your ass as you bent to slide in.

“Gotta start wearin’ longer dresses, sweetheart,” he muttered. “Or don’t. Shit, don’t.”

You flushed and sank into the leather seat. Ben climbed in beside you, legs wide, arm already around your shoulders like a fucking throne.

Butcher glanced in the rearview, deadpan. “Jesus. You two done dry-humpin’ or we takin’ the scenic route tonight?”

Ben grinned. “Shut the fuck up and drive.”

Butcher snorted but put the car in gear.

City lights streaked past in a blur. The toy inside you pulsed with phantom memory, your thighs pressed tight together. You shifted slightly, but Ben’s hand gripped your knee and dragged it back open.

“Don’t even think about hiding,” he said. “You wanted to play, you fuckin’ play.”

His hand slid higher, inching toward the hem of your dress. His fingers teased just under the edge, not touching the toy, but close enough to make your breath catch.

“She’s soaked already,” he said, loud enough for the front seat. “Fuckin’ faucet.”

Butcher didn’t even blink. “You keep talkin' like that and I’m gonna end up drivin' into traffic.”

Ben grinned. “That a compliment?”

Butcher’s eyes flicked to the mirror, landing on you.

“Never seen you like this, mate,” he said. “You’ve lost the fuckin’ plot over her.”

Ben didn’t deny it. Didn’t blink. Just grinned wider, like being unhinged over you was a badge of honour.

“Wouldn’t you?” He said. “Look at her. Fuckin’ perfect. Should’ve heard her the other mornin'—cryin’ on my tongue like she wanted to marry it.”

You slapped his chest, mortified. But Ben caught your wrist and kissed the inside of it, slow and filthy.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t,” he murmured.

Butcher groaned. “You two need a goddamn leash.”

The car rolled to a stop. Outside, the venue loomed—faceless, nameless, but humming with power. There was no line. No music. Just velvet shadows and the hush of wealth. Ben stepped out first, adjusting his jacket, looking every inch the monster in silk and tailored wool.

He offered you his hand. You took it. He pulled you in tight.

“Try not to make too many people fall in love with you tonight,” he said, lips brushing your temple. “I fuckin’ hate sharing.”

And then you walked through the doors, straight into the mouth of the beast.

The venue looked like nothing from the outside—just a black door, tucked between glass towers, guarded by two men in earpieces who didn’t ask for names. They didn’t need to. Ben nodded once. The door opened.

And you stepped into something else entirely.

All shadow and heat and reverence.

The floors were black marble, veined like smoke. Velvet curtains carved out the space into dark corners and dim alcoves, while the ceiling arched high above in glass and steel and soft gold light. The air was thick with perfume, cigars, and the kind of money that didn’t speak out loud.

Everywhere you looked—eyes.

Men in tailored suits with expensive watches and hungrier stares. Women like sculptures. Everything glittered, but none of it outshone the possessive heat of Ben’s hand on your lower back.

You felt exposed. Seen. Desired.

Displayed.

Ben leaned down as you stepped deeper into the space, his mouth brushing your ear. “You feel that?”

You swallowed.

He smirked. “They’re lookin’ at you, baby. Every one of ‘em.” His palm slid a little lower. “They wanna know who the fuck you are.”

You pressed closer into his side. Your heels clicked like a heartbeat against the marble. The dress clung in all the wrong—and perfect—places, and the toy inside you was a presence, a promise. Not on. Not yet. But waiting.

Ben steered you through the crowd like he owned it. And maybe he did.

You saw them before you reached them. John—smug, drink in hand, grin like a blade. His eyes lit up when he saw you. Not kind. Not warm. Just sharp. Earving stood beside him, dressed to kill and silent, a girl tucked against his arm like an accessory.

And then—

A woman. Short hair, sharp suit, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was laughing at something another man had just said—immaculate in grey, expression unreadable.

Ben led you straight to them.

“Stan Edgar. Victoria Neuman. This is my girl.”

Stan looked you over like you were data. Victoria’s smile sharpened.

“Pleasure,” she said, voice smooth. “Ben’s been...talking.”

You nodded, barely able to speak under the weight of their attention.

Stan only nodded once. “She’s very... visually efficient.”

Ben barked a laugh. “She’s more than that.”

You were still reeling from their gazes when John stepped forward, cocking his head as he looked you over with that same dripping smirk.

“Benjamin! You finally brought her out again, huh?” He whistled low. “Fuck me, you’ve been hiding a masterpiece.”

You stiffened. Ben didn’t. He stepped in front of you slightly, shielding you with his frame. “Careful, John,” he said, smile tight. “She’s not a museum piece.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” John replied, eyes still on you. “I’d pay to take a closer look.”

Ben’s laugh was dark. Low. Dangerous. His arm locked tighter around your waist.

“You wanna keep your teeth in your mouth, you keep that fuckin’ look off your face.”

John just raised his hands in mock surrender, but the hunger in his eyes didn’t fade.

You pressed closer to Ben, dizzy from the lights and perfume and how exposed your thighs felt under all that satin. He bent low again, his mouth hot against your ear.

“You’re doin’ so fuckin’ good,” he murmured. “Takin’ it all like my perfect little doll.”

His hand found your thigh.

The toy was still silent.

But not for long.

The booth was tucked into the back corner, elevated just enough to offer a panoramic view of the velvet-drenched chaos below. Private, but not hidden. On display. Designed to be watched. Just like last time.

Ben slid in first, legs wide, jacket draped lazily behind him like he owned the entire venue—he probably fucking did. He crooked a finger at you without speaking.

You stepped into the curve of the booth, your body already trembling with the residual tension from the car, the entrance, the stares. He caught you by the waist and pulled you down into his lap.

"Legs open," he muttered into your neck, the command so quiet it might have been a breath. "Whole fuckin’ night. You hear me?"

You nodded.

His hands skimmed your thighs as you settled, one arm anchoring around your waist like a chain.

And then—

The toy buzzed to life inside you. It was soft at first. Barely a tremor. But it landed like a punch. Your thighs tensed instinctively.

Ben didn’t look at you. Just reached for his drink and sipped. Moved you gently from his lap to slip further into the booth. The buzzing didn’t stop. You tried to hide it—to school your face into something neutral. But your hands clenched against your lap, and your breath stuttered. Your pulse was in your throat.

Ben leaned in like he was going to kiss your cheek. He didn’t.

"What’s the matter, sweetheart? Can’t sit still?"

You swallowed.

His mouth brushed your ear.

"Keep your face pretty. That’s all you gotta do."

You exhaled slowly, legs trembling, clinging to the champagne flute that had just appeared in front of you.

You didn’t even see her sit down. Victoria Neuman smiled like a shark in silk. "Ben hasn't stopped talking about you for weeks," she said casually, crossing one leg over the other. "Good to see he’s not losing steam."

Your lips parted—words stalling. The toy pulsed harder. A moan threatened to escape. You bit it back. Nodded.

"You okay, sweetheart?" She asked, eyes twinkling with a dangerous kind of amusement.

You nodded again. Barely.

She tilted her head. "He’s cruel when he likes someone. You’ll get used to it."

Ben hadn’t moved. He was still across the booth. Watching. Smirking. And then he turned the toy up. High. Constant. Devastating. Your hand trembled as you set the glass down. You could barely breathe.

"He likes them obedient," Victoria murmured, swirling her drink. "But not too quiet. You’ll do just fine."

And then he was behind you. You hadn’t even seen him move. His hands were on your hips, pulling you back into his lap, then your waist, then your throat. His mouth on your neck. Kissing, sucking, biting.

You gasped. He didn’t stop.

"God, you’re fuckin’ shaking," he rasped, voice raw against your skin. "You gonna come in front of her?"

Victoria just sipped her drink, unbothered. "You always were theatrical, Ben."

He grinned into your neck.

"You should see what she gets like, Neuman," he said. "Tries to ride my face so hard she almost passes out."

You whimpered. He bit your ear.

"Don’t come yet," he said, sharp now. Low and dangerous. "Not unless I say. You don’t want me to embarrass you, do you?"

You shook your head, lips trembling.

"Smile," he whispered. "You’re the prettiest thing in the room—act like it."

Victoria laughed. "She’s a mess. You always pick the messy ones."

Ben’s tongue dragged up your neck. His hand slid between your thighs, pressed over the buzzing heat.

"Look at her, Vic," he growled. "Isn’t she a fuckin’ masterpiece?"

You couldn’t answer. You were burning. Shaking. So close it hurt. And he hadn’t even gotten started.

They came in slowly, like the tide—first Stan, silent and surgical in his presence. Then John, already smirking. Earving behind them, ghost-quiet, eyes unreadable. Victoria didn’t move. She just sipped her drink, crossed her legs the other way, and looked amused.

Ben welcomed them with a lazy tilt of his chin, but he didn’t let you go. His hand stayed on your thigh. His breath stayed in your ear.

You were still trembling when you turned. One slow, shaking motion. You straddled him. Face to face, chest to chest, your thighs wide around his lap. Satin clung to your skin, the toy still pulsing inside you like a secret heartbeat. Your hands pressed into his shoulders like you needed the anchor—like you’d float away if he let you.

He didn’t let you.

His hands gripped your waist, strong and certain. And when you dropped your face into his neck, he hummed, low and pleased.

"There she is," he murmured, loud enough for them to hear. "My pretty little mess."

You could hear the clink of ice in glasses. The murmurs of expensive conversation. Stan speaking in numbers. John muttering filth.

But Ben’s hands were creeping lower. The toy buzzed higher.

You whimpered into his throat. He laughed.

"You feel that? Huh? Right here, surrounded by billionaires and snakes, and you’re shaking like you’re gonna fuckin’ break."

You nodded into his skin.

Victoria’s voice came soft beside you. "You’re doing fine, sweetheart."

You turned slightly, cheek brushing Ben’s jaw as you looked at her. She smiled. Not cruelly. But not kindly, either.

"He’s like this," she said, dry. "He just likes the ones who squirm."

Ben’s hand slid up your spine.

"You gonna be polite, baby? Or you gonna come all over my lap while Stan’s tryin’ to talk taxes?"

You whimpered.

Victoria’s hand brushed your back, light as silk. "Don’t worry. No one’s looking."

That was a lie.

Ben kissed your cheek like a lover. Then bit your jaw like a predator. "Beg," he whispered. "You wanna fuckin' come? Say it. Say it out loud."

You opened your mouth... and he turned away. "Edgar," he said, casually. "What’s the projection on Neuman’s little tax stunt?"

Your mouth stayed open. No sound came out. The toy didn’t stop.

Stan’s voice was cold. "Stable for now. But volatile next quarter."

You nodded at something Victoria said. You weren’t even sure what. She was still smirking. Still sipping.

"You're shaking," she whispered, voice meant only for you. "He won’t stop. Not yet."

Ben turned back to you. His eyes were molten.

"You’re close, huh? Gonna come for me, sweetheart?"

You nodded. Whimpered. Your legs were trembling. He kissed you—hot and slow and brutal. Then pulled back.

"Too bad."

He clicked the remote. And the toy went silent.

You collapsed into his chest, blinking through heat and tears and shame. He held you like a prize. Like a trophy.

Like something earned, but you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

Then, it started again. A hum—low and cruel—deep inside you.

You gasped before you could catch it. Not loud, but sharp enough to draw Ben’s eyes to you from the corner, his arm tightening around your waist like he felt it too.

"Jesus, Ben," you whispered, the words barely shaped.

He hummed against your ear, unbothered, his voice molasses-slick. "Thought you were relaxin’, sweetheart."

But he didn’t stop. Didn’t ease up. The toy kept humming—steady, deliberate, tuned to that unbearable pitch between ache and ecstasy. Your thighs trembled where they bracketed his. Your hands fisted the fabric at his shoulders.

And yet—

You looked at him. Really looked.

Ben was talking to Stan again, some quiet, low-stakes business chatter about offshore accounts or quarterly damage control. His voice was smooth, lilting, laced with sarcasm. He leaned back like he didn’t have you straddling him, wrecked and pulsing, on the brink of total collapse.

His beard caught the low light like it had a sheen. Soft at the edges, trimmed at the jaw. His throat moved when he laughed at something John muttered, a sharp bark that exposed those too-sharp canines. The corner of his mouth lifted as he sipped his drink with one hand, the other still heavy on your back.

And his eyes—

God. His fucking eyes.

Green like bottle glass and back-alley secrets, sharp as knives and stupidly beautiful. Bright even in shadow. They sparkled when he laughed, narrowed when he smirked. And he was smirking now.

Not at you. Not yet.

You pressed your cheek to his shoulder, the silk of his shirt damp with heat and breath and sweat. Your heart ached with how much you wanted him. Not just his cock, not just his control.

Him.

You swallowed the whimper building in your throat.

And then, soft as sin:

"Ben."

He turned. Just his head. Just enough to look down at you, eyes slipping slow over your face. One brow arched.

"You okay, baby?"

You nodded. Breathless.

"Take me home."

His face changed.

It wasn’t visible, not fully—not to anyone else. But you felt it. The way his hand stilled. The way his spine straightened. The breath he drew in, low and slow.

"Home?"

You nodded again.

"Please."

The word was a whisper against his collar.

His smirk didn’t return all at once. It built like thunder—low, slow, inevitable. His palm slid up your back, fingers curling at your nape. He kissed your temple. Then stood. Lifted you with him. Like you weighed nothing. Like you were made to be carried.

You buried your face in his neck, felt the beat of his pulse against your lips as he turned from the table.

"Excuse us," he said smoothly, like he wasn’t holding a trembling girl half-fucked in his arms. "She needs a breather."

Victoria’s smile curled like smoke. John’s eyes followed you, grinning like he knew too much. Stan barely looked up.

And then Ben was walking—shoulders square, strides long, your body cradled to his like some obscene treasure.

Through the hush of velvet and vice. Out the black door, into the night, back to where he’d promised to take you.

Home.

The car door shut with a soft click. And then you were gone. Ben didn’t wait. Didn’t give you time to breathe or prepare or brace—he just reached between your thighs, clicked the remote in his pocket, and the toy inside you purred back to life like it never left.

You jerked in your seat, legs trembling, a soft gasp curling from your lips before you could catch it. The city lights blurred past the window, glittering and disjointed, but you couldn’t see them. Couldn’t feel anything but the heat already pooling low in your belly, the friction of satin and skin and heat, and Ben’s hand on your thigh.

His voice came slow and slick in your ear.

"There she is. My girl. My good fuckin’ girl."

You whimpered, already clinging to his shoulder, your body melting into his side.

"You hear that little sound you make when I touch you?" He murmured. "Fuckin’ music. Could write a goddamn symphony off the way you moan for me."

He pushed the hem of your dress higher, fingers teasing at the edge of your underwear, toy humming so deep you swore your bones vibrated.

"Be loud, baby. Butcher doesn’t give a fuck. Hell, he’s seen worse."

As if to prove it, the partition between you and the driver stayed half-lowered. Butcher’s face was blank in the mirror, eyes flicking away like he’d seen this show before.

Your head tipped back as the pressure crested—your toes curled, your thighs trembled. You bit your lip but it didn’t help.

You came with a gasp, a moan slipping loose, high and broken. Your whole body shuddered.

Ben groaned like he felt it too.

"That’s it. Fuckin’ hell, that’s it," he rasped. "Goddamn you’re perfect." His hand didn’t leave you. Didn’t still. "You got another one in you, sweetheart? Huh? I know you do."

The toy kept going, and he pressed a kiss to your temple. You whimpered again, hips twitching involuntarily.

"You’re mine. You’ll give me as many as I want. You fuckin’ love it."

You came again before you realised you were close. A full-body quake, a cry buried in the thick fabric of his shirt, your nails digging into his arm.

The car slowed. Pulled into the private garage beneath his building.

Ben was out of the seat before the engine cut, hauling you into his arms. You barely remembered the door opening. You just remember the lift of your body, the strength in his arms, the way he growled in your ear:

"Can’t fuckin’ wait."

The elevator doors shut behind you, and before it even moved—he had you against the wall.

Dress up. Legs spread. One hand braced beside your head while the other slid between your thighs and pulled the toy free with a slick sound that made your stomach drop.

He stared at it for half a second, then shoved it in his mouth, sucked it clean.

"Jesus fuck," he groaned around it. "You taste like sin."

His fingers were already working you open again, sliding through your folds like he’d die if he didn’t feel you. Your body was limp and shaking, mouth parted, helpless.

You whispered his name.

"Say it again," he growled, tongue pressing the toy against the inside of his cheek before he tossed it to the floor.

"Ben."

The elevator pinged. The doors opened.

He didn’t stop touching you. Carried you into the penthouse with your legs wrapped around him, fingers still buried inside you, mouth on your neck.

The front door slammed shut behind you with a deafening crack. And then you were pressed to it. Your spine against solid wood. His mouth on yours—biting, hungry, rough.

"My fuckin’ girl," he breathed, tongue dragging over your lower lip. "My perfect little toy."

He rolled his hips into yours, cock thick and straining through his slacks.

"You know how long I waited for this? Huh?"

You could barely nod, already panting. He kissed you again. Lower this time. Jaw. Throat. Collarbone.

"Didn’t think I’d ever find someone like you. Someone who gets it. Who gets me."

Another kiss. Another thrust.

"You’re it, baby. You’re fuckin’ it."

And he was going to ruin you. Right here. Right now.

You didn’t feel your feet hit the ground.

Ben carried you across the penthouse like you were weightless, a trembling thing made of silk and need. The city glittered ahead, sprawling and brilliant, a thousand stories blinking against the sky.

He didn’t speak—not at first.

Just pressed you to the glass. It was cool against your back, shocking in contrast to the heat rolling off your skin. You gasped, arching into him, palms flat on the surface as the world stretched out before you like a stage.

Ben’s hands slid up your thighs, dragged along the hem of your dress.

"You feel that, sweetheart?" He rasped, breath hot against your jaw. "World’s right fuckin’ there. Every light, every eye."

His lips crushed yours before you could answer.

The kiss was filthy. Wet and starved. His tongue licked into your mouth like he was claiming it, biting your lip, licking over the sting. You moaned, open and soft for him, arms around his neck as you sagged into his heat.

"Fuck, you kiss like you’re already fucked dumb," he growled, barely pulling back, lips brushing yours. "Droolin’ for it. You hear yourself?"

You whimpered. Nodded.

His hands gripped your ass, lifted you slightly, enough to press you higher to the glass.

"Should see yourself," he muttered. "Lit up like a fuckin’ exhibit. My own personal display case slut."

Your body jolted with the words, thighs squeezing around his hips.

He laughed—low and wrecked—and then he turned you. Spun you slowly, reverently, until your front pressed flush to the glass. Your hands braced high. Your cheek flattened to the cool surface. The view blurred with heat and haze.

Ben crowded in behind you, one hand on your hip, the other sliding up your spine, fingertips dancing over the zipper at the back of your dress.

"You know how long I’ve wanted this?" He murmured. "Since the first fuckin’ night. You stood right here. Right fuckin’ here. And I thought—I’m gonna fuck her against this window. Gonna press her tits to it and split her open so the city knows she’s mine."

He kissed your shoulder. Bit it.

"And you came back. You fuckin’ came back."

You moaned, shaking. His hand slid between your thighs, fingers stroking through slick heat, spreading you open.

"Christ, baby. You’re soaked. You’re drippin’ down your fuckin’ thighs."

The sound he made when he sank to his knees was almost reverent. You barely had time to register the heat of his mouth before he was licking you open, biting softly into the curve of your ass, tongue working in tight circles over your clit while you sobbed against the glass.

And then—he stood. Dropped his slacks. No warning. Grabbed your hips. Pressed in. One long, brutal thrust that knocked the air from your lungs.

You screamed. Hands slipped on the glass. Your body jolted forward, breath fogging the skyline.

"There it is," he groaned behind you. "Tight little cunt, made to be fucked right here. Right where everyone can fuckin’ see."

His thrusts were vicious. Deep. Each one lifting you onto your toes. Your cheek rubbed raw on the glass but you didn’t care.

"Look at you. Fuckin’ perfect. Ruined. Mine."

He wrapped a fist in your hair, tugged your head back.

"Don’t close your eyes. I want you to watch yourself come apart."

You could see your reflection in the faint smear of light on the glass. Blurred. Wild-eyed. Lips parted. You didn’t recognise yourself.

Ben slammed into you again. You cried out.

"Whole city’s out there, sweetheart. But I’m the only one who gets to fuckin’ touch."

You were gone. Drenched. Gutted. Wrecked on the glass like art. And he was still going. Your cheek was still pressed to the glass when he pulled out of you with a low, guttural sound—like it hurt him to stop.

"Fuck this," he growled. "Need you on the floor."

He grabbed your hips, turned you, and you didn’t even resist—your knees buckled, dress hiked, thighs slick. He dragged you down with him, your back hitting the floor with a thud that rattled your lungs. Cold marble kissed your spine. The city lights spun above like stars on fire.

Ben loomed over you, shirt open now, chest heaving. His hair was stuck to his temples, his pupils blown wide. He didn’t look human—he looked like hunger in its final form.

He pinned your wrists above your head, straddling your thighs, eyes dragging over your body like he was committing it to memory before the end of the world.

Then he spit in his hand. Stroked himself.

Slow. Mean. "You’re so fuckin’ good for me it makes me sick."

You whimpered, legs trembling. He let your wrists go just to drag his hands down your body, over the curve of your breasts, the dip of your waist, gripping your thighs until you gasped.

"I’ve had every kind of pussy," he said, voice low and ragged. "And none of it ever felt like you."

He slapped your cunt. Not hard—but enough to make you jolt. Enough to make your eyes fly open and your breath catch.

"Like God made you just to take my cock, didn’t He? Huh?"

You nodded, lips parted, helpless. A mess beneath him.

He leaned in, nose brushing yours, voice dark and reverent.

"Tell me who you fuckin’ belong to."

You choked on your breath.

"Say it. Let the city fuckin’ hear it."

"You," you breathed. "You, Ben."

He kissed you like he needed it to breathe—sloppy and deep and consuming. Then he pressed inside you again with a groan that sounded like it came from his chest.

And started to move. Hard. Deliberate. His pace was brutal, hips snapping, sweat dripping from his chest onto your skin. Every thrust punched a sound from you—soft, broken, pleading.

"That’s it," he hissed. "Fuckin’ take it." His hands fisted in your hair, dragged your mouth to his. "You’re not goin’ anywhere, you get that?"

You nodded frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"I’d kill for you," he breathed against your jaw. "Burn this whole fuckin’ city down if someone touched what’s mine."

His thrusts stuttered. His jaw clenched.

"You’re it. You’re fuckin’ it for me."

You came with a sob—your body locking around him, clenching, shaking, teeth sunk into his shoulder. He cursed, loud and raw, bracing himself on one forearm as his other hand gripped your thigh.

"Fuck, I’m gonna—shit—I’m fuckin’—" He slammed in deep, buried to the hilt. "Take it. Take all of it, baby."

You cried out, fingers clawing at his back.

"Say you’re mine while I fill you up."

"I’m yours, Ben," you gasped. "Yours."

His hips jerked as he came—loud, guttural, filthy. You felt it spill inside you, hot and endless, his body collapsing over yours as he breathed you in like oxygen. He didn’t move right away. Just lay there, pressed to you, breath ragged, mouth at your ear.

"Mine," he whispered again.

Like a prayer. Like a promise. Like prophecy.

His chest was still pressed to yours. The air between you both felt heavy with salt and sweat and something so much deeper.

Ben didn’t speak. Not at first. He just lifted his head, gaze dragging slow over your face—like he was checking to see if you were real. Like if he blinked too fast, you’d vanish.

And then he kissed you. Soft. Just once. Not hungry. Not greedy. Just a press of his lips to yours that felt like a whisper, like a secret folded into skin. His breath stuttered as he pulled back an inch, eyes still locked to yours.

"Jesus Christ," he murmured, voice wrecked and reverent. "Look at you."

His hand traced your jaw, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. His brow furrowed like it hurt to see you this way—wrecked and glowing, trembling and perfect.

"I don’t know how the fuck I found you," he whispered. "But I did. And I’m never lettin’ you go."

He leaned in again. Kissed your cheek. Your brow. The tip of your nose.

"Not ever. You hear me?"

You nodded, dazed. Stunned. Still too full of him to know where he ended and you began. Your fingers threaded into his hair, tugged gently until he was hovering above you again, nose brushing yours.

"Same goes for you, Ben," you said softly. "I don’t want anywhere else. I don’t want anyone else."

His breath caught. And then he kissed you again. Deeper. Slower. Tongue licking into your mouth like he needed to taste every word you just gave him. His hands held your face like you were breakable. Precious. His. The kiss didn’t ask. It didn’t take. It promised.

When he finally pulled away, his lips were pink and swollen, and his eyes were dark with something softer than lust.

Something terrifying.

"Mine," he murmured against your mouth.

A whisper. A vow.

"Fuckin’ mine."

And you were.

You always would be.

Power is not always taken. Sometimes, it is worshipped. Wrapped in silk and spit, crushed between bodies, bared beneath glass. Given freely, and never returned.

It begins with a glance. A single indulgence. A breathless yes.

And ends here—on a pedestal of bruises and diamonds, teeth and devotion. A prize. A possession. A ruin dressed in reverence.

Because men like him do not love. They claim.

And some altars are built just to be bled on.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah. @itshellfire @drakulana @sl33pylilbunny @suckitands33 @nevercameraready @kayleighwinchester @lyarr24 @imtheworst123 @podiumackles @spxideyver @tinas111 @ohgodimgoungtodie @cevansbaby-dove @paristheonewhoreads @winchestersbgirl <3

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dearmisshoney · 2 days ago

Text

books and deep throat thoughts

synopsis. one afternoon at your uni, mattheo — the bane of your existence — snoops through your book (he can read?) and finds out you’re not the innocent goodie-two-shoes everyone thought you were. fixated on humiliating you as much as possible, he discovers books are somewhat useful and indeed pleasurable to ride read.

pairing. toxic! mattheo riddle x reader

content/mdni. fem!reader, nerd!reader, not-so-inexperienced!reader, allusions to virginity (nothing confirmed 😈) bully!mattheo (he is cruel), toxic! mattheo, possessive!mattheo, jealous!mattheo, slight mention of harry potter x reader (but nothing serious! NO CHEATING!), inappropriate use of books, humping/book-riding, face-slapping (with his cóck), enemies-to-lovers tension, degradation & teasing, slight praise, clit stimulation, deepthroat/facefucking (is there a difference? lmk), dirty talk, name-calling (whore, sweetheart, princess, baby, but also 2 instances of brains), overstimulation & slight dumbification, messy, no p in v this time folks

word count. 3.6k

a/n. had a dream about this one. mostly self-indulged, but i hope you enjoy it! likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶

“well, well, well, what do we have here?”

mattheo said condescendingly from behind you, making you jump in your seat from the sudden intrusion. he swiftly snatched the book you were reading with the tips of his fingers, gripping it with such delicacy as if it were the most precious jewel. sadly, that was just the impression he was leaving, actually holding the book as far as possible as if it were trash.

you should be used to it by now — the way he always comes in the afternoons in this empty club room to shoo you away for him and his friends to smoke and gamble all they want. unfortunately for them, you were allowed (and even begged) to occupy the room so that delinquents like mattheo won’t do dangerous stuff inside the university.

“brains reading her stupid books again?” he squinted his eyes at the opened pages, pursing his lips together in a mocking way at the black text on the pages. he twisted and turned the book in all directions, feigning interest, only to snicker at you after his examination. slightly closing the book— still keeping track of your page number with one of his fingers as a bookmark — he tilted the object towards your head and let it tap the top of your head.

“there’s still space left up here?”

oh, how he loved making fun of you and your bookworm attics. you didn’t do anything to him to deserve this, really. it’s just that your mere existence irks something in him.

mattheo riddle is a notorious bully at your uni, especially to solitary souls like you. but no one brings him joy like you do; maybe it’s the way you always make yourself small when you see him around, maybe it’s the way you scrunch your nose and avert your eyes every time he even breaths in the same room as you. maybe it’s the way you get quieter than usual, mumbling sometimes under your breath a half-assed retort to his jabs, or the way you look up at him with your puppy eyes in an attempt to soften his attacks.

bad news, sweetheart. it only makes him bully you even more.

“i read for pleasure.”

“and what do you know about pleasure, brains?” he scoffed in an instant at you, almost laughing out loud at your words. pff, reading for pleasure? yeah, and he gets into fights to bring peace among students. likely story.

cracking the book open on top of your head, he used you as a stand to skim through the text to tease you more.

“this shit putting you to sleep is– ” mattheo was ready to confirm that, yes, maybe books making you go to sleep could count as pleasure, but the end of his sentence got stuck in his throat right as his eyes fell on one of the words on the page.

“dick? DICK?”

and he burst into a hideous laugh, menace and surprise so clear in his voice. this was a such a great discovery for him… his favourite nerdy girl was enjoying porn at university. in plain sight. with no worry.

what a shameless little whore.

“mattheo, no! stop that!” he hear you protesting, trying your best to grab at the book and push it away from his hands. but he was faster, stronger, more determined than you to discover more of your depravity. so, removing the book from your head, he replaced it with his hand and pushed you down right back into your seat.

“you’re reading porn? at school? oh my god!” he went on to taunt you, continuing to keep you seated as he resumed his reading of the paragraph. if at the beginning of your meeting he was keeping the book as far away as possible from his face, now he was practically buried between the pages, devouring all the description and the dialogue of the sex scene.

“ugh– this is so embarrassing.”

you puffed out loud, slapping your palms against your face and scrunching every muscle into them. you were such a dumbass, making such a mistake around mattheo like you didn’t already know what kind of person he is. he will never let you get away with it. he won’t snitch, he likes to keep blackmail material to himself, but he will remind you about this every. single. day.

“of course it is! the goodie-two-shoe virgin reads this at university.” he said between laughs, still flabbergasted by the entire incident.

“she pulled his pants and boxers down in an instant. his dick sprung free of its confinements and slapped against his tensed torso, the messy precum already stain–”

“stop, please stop! i can’t listen anymore.” you felt blood boil up into your cheeks, the embarrassment getting the better of you. him reading a few sentences from the book was what tipped you over and made you want the earth to split and shallow you in that instant.

putting your hands on your ears and closing your eyes — in an attempt to completely block any input from mattheo — you smashed your forehead onto the table before you.

you were so done.

“now i understand why you said pleasure!” you faintly heard him say from behind you, probably still continuing to scan the pages. at this point, you hoped and prayed he will just leave the room and never come back.

a small thud resonated in the empty room, then some footsteps. and then silence. did he left? was the universe actually listening to your pleas? was it–

“were you touching yourself, princess?”

a deep seductive whisper sneaked between your fingers, hitting your right ear and making your entire body shiver. his voice, soaked with the most seductive tone you’ve ever heard, went down your spine, generating goosebumps all over your skin. something also did a backflip in your tummy at his lustful words, arousal pooling in your stomach and making your thighs clamp together.

“you are such a pervert, mattheo!” you snapped at him with anger, raising your head fast from the table to glare right at him.

“but were you?”

he was so close to you. so so close. and with his second question he reduced the distance between the two of you even more, now his nose almost touching yours, his eyes staring right into your orbs, trying to figure out your nasty secrets.

“no.”

“so if i check right now, i won’t find you allll wet and sticky?” he purred at you, lowering his gaze to your lower half. one of his hands wandered down there, sliding like a snake down your leg riiiiight above your knee.

your leg twitched underneath his palm, the heaviness of it making you needier.

“what does that have to do with me masturbating?”

the pads of his fingers made their way lower and lower towards your inner thigh, only stopping when they made contact with the material of your panties. the drenched material of your panties.

“i–it’s a biological reaction, even without me doing anything.”

a devilish, elongated oh, reaaaally? was whispered into your ear the moment mattheo dipped his fingers further down your clothed crotch. tapping you twice when he made contact with your sensitive clit, he signaled the beginning of slow circular motions.

“mattheo…” a sharp intake of your breath resonated in the room, joined afterwards by a breathy moan of his name. that made his shit-eating grin grow bigger, now smiling at you like a cheshire cat.

“see, it feels good!”

slow but hard figure eights were drawn against your hardened nub, making your legs all twitchy. if it weren’t for the big distance between you and the table, you would have surely knocked your knees against it a few times.

“doesn’t it, princess? how could you not–”

“n–no.”

“no?”

be it a cheeky retort or not, mattheo was actually angered by your little remark. gripping your right knee with his spare hand, mattheo forcefully opened your legs wider. your skirt was pushed away from your crotch, nicely folding around your stomach. now he had a clear view of your soaked panties sticking to your cunt, molded around your puffy folds and your clit.

“why are you lying to me, baby?” throwing your right leg over his lap, he continued his ministration on your pussy, right now with more precision. his thumb remained on your clit, pushing and prodding against it, while his other fingers were agonizingly tracing up and down your clothed slit.

“your pussy juices are all over my hand and you’re telling me it doesn’t feel good?”

oh, he was mad. really fucking mad.

his middle finger found your desperate little hole, needly clenching around nothing every couple of seconds. adding a bit of pressure with the pad of his finger, mattheo pressed the material of your panties in, creating a little valley for his curious digits.

“oh, i get it.” he said all of a sudden, abruptly ceasing all movement.

your tiny gasps of pleasure were interrupted by a long whine of dissatisfaction, but he paid it no mind.

“that’s not what’s happening in the book! right. riiiight.”

removing his hands from you, he stood up from his seat and moved away from the table altogether. you tried to turn your head towards him, to register his next moved, but did not have time. mattheo, with his muscular arms, managed to spin the school chair around and have you face him.

“you don’t want to be pleasured.”

he said through gritted teeth, somehow a bit offended, somehow a bit excited. keeping his eyes glued to yours, he slowly started to unbuckle his leather belt.

“you want to give pleasure!”

letting his pants drop to the floor with a small clanck, mattheo then opened the buttons of his shirt to give you that sexy manly torso you had been reading about in your stupid porn book. you were also graced with a nice view of his happy trail, fine patches of brown hair disappearing underneath his garments. his boxers were still on and, even though the blackness of the material did not offer much to the eye, your hungry gaze saw the stain of pre-cum.

and, of course, the outline of his hard cock.

“c’mon, sweetheart. you’ve read the beginning of the scene.” mattheo beckoned you to raise from your seat and kneel like a good girl before him.

“come suck me off.”

lust definitely possessed you. there was no other explanation as to why you, one of the most non-problematic students, was actually kneeling in front of mattheo, the top problematic student at your university.

“fuck, you look so good down there!” he groaned at the sight before him, his cock twitching in his briefs at the mere fact that he had you in such a position.

and when you did reach for his undergarments, pulling them down by the hem all the way to his ankles, his shaft slapped against his abs, smearing wetness all over his skin; but unlike the book, his cock then dipped downwards because of its weight, sitting now at eye-level with you.

“touch it, baby! it’s all yours to play.”

your embarrassment was beyond the roof, but so was your arousal. with delicate fingers, you grabbed the base of his cock and tugged it forward, closer to your lips. his red tip was so close to your warm mouth — he could feel your breath on it.

were you scared to take him in? maybe, after all you were a virg–

“oh, fuckfuck, shiiit.”

his soul almost left him when he felt your lips around him, a few inches already inside your wet mouth. your gooey tongue was tasting every single part of his cock, going flat along his sides and engulfing as much of his shaft as possible.

mattheo had to stabilize himself not to fall from the sudden pleasure, and thank god for an additional chair right by his side. gripping the edge of the wooden back, he continued to groan under his breath from your ministration.

“h–hollow your chee– oh my lord!”

there was no point in giving you instructions. it seems like you were connected telepathically with mattheo, already sucking in your cheeks and taking more and more of him in your mouth. a tear fell from your inner corner down towards your puckered lips, and that’s when you took him out of your mouth, short of breath.

your lips, wet from saliva and his precum, were still connected to his cock by a thick rope of wetness. you looked so pornographic before him, there’s no way he will not use this view in his future jerk-off sessions. and that lewd pop when the wet string broke… fucking sexy.

before letting you go back to business, he grasped the side of your head with his hand, palm sliding against your scalp and gripping at the roots of your hair. your eyes, sparkling with the desire to suck him dry, shot him the nastiest glare he has ever seen.

but he was curious of something.

“you’ve sucked cock before, sweetheart?”

he was sure you were a virgin. the whole university knew no one had a chance of getting in your panties. heck, he’s heard about people betting that you’d finish your studies still a virgin. yet, all this does not align with your exceptional head skills. surely porn books like that one weren’t that good of a manual, right?

your tiny nod of approval solved all the mystery.

your tiny nod of approval also ignited something in mattheo. and, this time, it wasn’t desire. something burned in his chest, something tugged at his heart the very moment you confirmed the fact that you did such a thing with another guy.

clutching your hair tighter, he tilted your face towards his. his brown eyes, still blown wide, were now piercing you with possessiveness and jealousy. his brows furrowed, his nose scrunched up, as he spat his next question right in your face.

“who was it? you better not lie to me, whore!”

keeping your face still, he shooed your hands away from his cock, grasping it with his own free hand. you cracked your mouth open, assuming he was going to ram his dick inside, but were only met with a wet slap. on your cheek. of his mushroomy tip.

“you don’t even talk to guys, so you must be– no.”

slap. your other cheek got the same treatment, your skin now stained with his arousal and your spit.

he remembered right in that moment that you have been paired with a guy for a project last week. but there was no way he–

“was it that four-eyed weirdo? potter?”

your eyes widened at his question, and he knew he got it right.

“you’ve sucked–”

slap.

“that nerd’s–”

slap.

“shrimp dick?”

slap.

“and here i thought you are a good girl.” his last slap landed on your lips, still slightly parted from before. nestling his tip between them, mattheo slowly pushed back into your mouth, this time not stopping at a few inches.

“open up, baby! i am gonna fuck that throat raw.” and he was going to keep his promise by the looks of it. not even stopping when you began to slightly choke around him, he stuffed you full of his cock. up to his very base.

your nose was now mere millimeters away from his happy trail; his shaft — a couple inches down your pulsing throat.

“i bet potter never reached that deep spot, huh?”

he was so mean, taunting you with your past experience with potter, while he swiftly started to thrust into your mouth. lips nicely enclosing around his girthy cock, they moved rhythmically and made mattheo feel like he was in heaven.

maybe, just maybe, he will forgive you if you let him cum down your throat.

“breath for me, sweetheart!” it sounded like advice, but, truly, it was a signal that he was going to increase his pace. placing both hands in your hair, mattheo now had full control of your head — bobbing you up and down his length, matching his own hips stuttering inside your mouth.

“atta, girl! fuck, you feel amazing!”

the sloshing sounds of your wet cavity, combined with his stickiness, echoed in the entire room. it was great that the room itself was more secluded, otherwise people passing by would surely realize what was going down in there.

and despite the deafening sounds of his thrusts, mattheo picked up the ruffling of your lower body and the failed attempts of your hands trying to give yourself relief.

“you’re such a pathetic girl!” he laughed out loud, amused by your needy behaviour.

“here, baby, use this.”

knocking around with his foot the book he has dropped — pages down — a while ago on the floor, he slid his shoe between the open pages and moved it in front of you.

“hump the spine like the whore that you are.”

at your visible hesitation, his voice hardened, and a command was issued.

“rub that cunt on it! now!”

moving closer to his foot, you plopped your pussy right on top of the book. the hard cover of the backbone pressed deliciously against your sensitive clit and, without waiting for an invitation, you started rocking your hips against it.

“see? you can listen.”

now, with you chasing your high like a whore with your porn book, he was more enthusiastic about fucking your mouth. hitting the back of your throat without any shame, he lost himself in the feeling of your sticky tongue and tight airpipe.

and, shiiiit, your expressions were doing something to him: your teary eyes, staring at him like a dumb whore, your lips, so deliciously abused by his aggressiveness, going all the way down to his navel with every move.

“don’t ever let potter fuck this mouth again, you heard me?” your eyes were more and more teary and so unfocused, all glossy and blown out; you definitely did not hear him. but he will remind you later. “this is my mouth now.”

dropping his hands from your scalp to the sides of your head, he grasped you tightly, even encapsulating your mistreated cheeks, and dragged you all the way to his torso for the finale.

“take all my cum, sweetheart! all of it.”

you had no other choice but to do as he says, your head practically caged by his hands into his abs. rutting your clit faster against the book, you tried achieving orgasm at the same time as mattheo. the solid material of the cover was a great bonus, and you thank past-you for spending a few extra bucks for a hard cover edition.

the feeling of his thick cum shooting down your throat, together with his moans, did it for you, making your whole body convulse and release all your arousal around the book. completely ruining it with your cum. the book could definitely not be used after this little rendezvous.

but it was all worth it.

“swallow it all, baby!” mattheo groaned loudly while emptying the last of his load in your mouth, creaming you for good.

he set you free after his high passed completely, allowing you to take a biiiig gulp of air. the sudden volume of air knocked you up literally; you fell backwards on your butt, detaching yourself unwillingly from the book.

“messy girl! my messy girl!”

mattheo groaned, towering above you as he was carefully tucking himself in. he was taking in the image of your wrecked body, proud of himself that he ruined you so well.

by the looks of it, you were still a bit out of it; muscles still spasming, eyes still foggy. that was none of his business, however. you brought this all upon yourself the moment you decided to challenge him with that nasty attitude.

kneeling in front of you, he gazed right at your lips – you seemed to have caught your breath. good. so, without a warning, he gripped the side of your cheek, stretched his fingers across it up to your mouth, and hooked one digit under your lips to open you up for an examination.

“tongue out, sweetheart!”

the pain of him stretching your mouth made you conform to his order fast, cracking open your lips and sticking out your tongue for him.

“you actually swallowed it all? nasty fucking whore.”

“you said to, so–”

there was something about mattheo loving to interrupt you at every moment. this time, he didn’t speak over you, choosing to push down his thumb on your sticky tongue to silence you.

“let potter touch you one more time and i will make sure he won’t walk for weeks. understood?”

his thumb was pressing down against your wet muscle with more force; all you could do was nod. you knew what mattheo was capable of. you saw how his victims look after a fight — poor potter would be hospitalized for months...

mattheo seemed pleased with your answer, humming approvingly at you. swiftly removing his hand from your face, you though he was done with you for today. but he had one more thing to say before completely vanishing from the room.

“i will also make sure you won’t walk for weeks either.”

he dipped his head closer to your ear, hissing condescendingly the repercussion you will face. he won’t beat you up — god forbid. and he made it abundantly clear by the way his palm sneaked all the way down to your overstimulated cunt. with a small slap on top of your wet panties, your legs jumping at his touch, mattheo ingrained his little threat in your body.

“see you tomorrow, princess!”

a/n. had a different ending in mind, but mattheo was too nice so i changed it :)

tags: @downbad4reid, @nottsangel

#~ 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘺 𝘫𝘢𝘳 #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle x reader #smut #x reader #fem!reader #bully!mattheo #toxic!mattheo #possessive!mattheo #jealous!mattheo #slytherin smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys smut #slytherin

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houseofaegon · 23 hours ago

Text

SKINNY DIPPING pt. 3 ✩ Wally Clark

Pairings: Wally Clark x Fem!reader

Warnings: +18 SMUT MINORS DNI. very slow burn. semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, teasing, heavy sexual tension, explicit dirty talk, praising, degradation, skinny dipping in a public pool, possesiveness/jealousy, light choking, rough gripping & mandhandling, overstimulation, wally being a cocky little shit and very possessive, kinda dom!wally, risk of getting caught, begging, breeding kink. wally whimpering???? (god have mercy)

Summary: For what feels like an eternity, Y/n and Wally have been nothing more than just friends. but that changes one reckless night when they decide to cross skinny dipping off their "100 things to do before crossing over" bucket list. Teasing and meaningless flirting turn heated, and the tension that has been simmering between them finally snaps. Under the moonlit water, boundaries blur, and their friendship is completely wrecked, in the best possible way.

Author's note: this is part 3!! part 1 and 2 are linked below! thank you so much for the love!! I'm so glad you guys liked this small series. I'm so sorry I took so much to finish this oh my god. university has been killing me lately lol but here is part 3! i might make more one shots like this with wally cause I love him so much.

Word count: 2209

Song choices: lose control - teddy swims, tear you apart - she wants revenge, closer - nine inch nails, flawless - the neighbourhood, do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, TiO - zayn, again - noah cyrus.

masterlist. part 1. part 2. part 3

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

Your entire body trembled as his fingers moved harder, faster, making your entire world narrow to the feeling of his fingers against your aching core.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, your breath coming in gasps, but you didn’t answer.

You couldn’t. Not when you were falling apart in his hands.

Not when you felt so good pressed against him.

So fucking good.

"And now, baby?" His tongue brushed over your lips, slowly. "Now you're gonna find out exactly what happens when you push me too fucking far."

The water swayed around you, rippling from the way Wally had you pinned against the smooth tile of the pool’s edge, his body pressed so tight against yours that there wasn’t a single inch of space left between you.

His breath was hot against your lips, his fingers working you in slow, devastating circles. Your body trembled against him, your nails digging into his shoulders.

"You're shaking, baby." His voice was dark, thick with satisfaction, his free hand gripping your hip so tight. "And I've barely even started."

You dropped your head back against the wall, a desperate whimper falling off your lips. He was teasing you, holding you right on the edge, his fingers slipping lower, pressing, dragging, barely dipping inside of you before pulling back—just enough to make you lose your mind.

More. Please, God. More.

“Wally,” you gasped, hips bucking against his hand, a desperate pleading sound.

But he only chuckled, dark and rough, his lips ghosting over your jaw. “No, no. You don’t get to rush me. Not after everything you’ve put me through. You’re gonna take everything I give you, exactly how I fucking want.”

His fingers pushed in deep, stretching you, making you arch against him, a broken moan slipping from your lips. He swallowed it with his mouth, his kiss rough, messy, nothing but teeth and tongue and desperation.

And then—he slammed his fingers inside you.

You cried out, back arching, water splashing against the pool’s edge as his fingers curled, dragging slow, torturous strokes along your inner walls, his thumb pressing deliberate circles against your clit.

Oh my god.

“Wally,” you gasped again, this time more desperate, your entire body tightening as heat coiled low in your stomach. “I can’t—I’m gonna—”

But he didn’t stop.

“Gonna what?” His voice was pure sin, his teeth grazing your earlobe. “Come all over my fucking fingers? Soak my hand while you scream my name? Say it.”

A sob tore from your throat as pleasure ripped through your entire body, making you convulse, your legs trembling. Your moan was so loud he clamped a wet hand over your mouth, groaning as he felt you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck,” he growled, his forehead pressing against yours. “That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl.”

But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Before you could even catch your breath, he dragged his fingers out of you—slick, messy—lifting them to your lips.

“Open,” he ordered.

And when you obeyed, sucking his fingers deep into your mouth, his eyes darkened, his cock throbbing against your stomach. He pinned you tighter against the tile; he panted against your skin. His fingers still in your mouth, your tongue lapping at them hungrily, and fuck—he felt it. The heat, the desperation, the way you sucked his fingers deeper like you were trying to drive him insane.

“So fucking pretty,” he murmured, voice wrecked with lust, his free hand dragging up your thigh, squeezing, gripping, spreading you open beneath the water. “You look so good like this. So desperate. So fucking mine.”

His fingers slipped from your mouth with a wet pop, trailing down your chin, smearing your juices and saliva across your skin. He gripped your jaw, forcing your head back against the tile, his eyes devouring you.

"You wanted to tease me?" he rasped, his voice low. "Wanted to push me until I fucking broke? Well, baby—”

His fingers trailed down your throat, over your collarbone, until he was cupping your breast, rolling your hard nipple between his fingers, making you gasp. He pinched, just enough to make you whimper, to make you need more.

"You like pushing me, don't you?" He gripped your breast tighter, his thumb flicking over the hardened bud, making you arch against him. "You like watching me lose my fucing mind over you."

"Yes," your voice a breathless mess, but you still smirked, your eyes filled with lust. Oh, you were loving this. You loved seeing him like this. Feral.

His growl was dark, dangerous, with pure need. His other hand moved lower, spreading you again under the water, his fingers teasing, pressing, torturing.

"You love this, don't you?" he murmured, his breath hot against your ear, making you shiver. "Love making me want you. Love knowing you drive me fucking insane."

His fingers ghosted over your soaked folds, barely touching, just enough to make your hips jerk. Your body was on fire, every nerve screaming, every part begging for more. He knew it. He could feel your body trembling in his arms. And still, he didn't give in.

He wanted to teach you a lesson.

"I could do whatever I want to you right now," he whispered, his lips dragging along your jaw. "And you'd let me. Wouldn't you, baby?"

You swallowed hard, nodding, breathless. "Yes. Fuck—yes.”

His smirk was sinful, dripping with possession. “Then say it.”

Your mind was a mess, wrecked, clouded with nothing but him. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

A dark chuckle rumbled through his chest. “There you go, baby, such a good girl.”

His fingers pressed harder against your entrance, teasing, circling—but not pushing inside. You whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand, desperate, needy.

“Poor baby,” he cooed mockingly, his tone dark, so damn cruel. “So fucking desperate. You need me, don’t you?”

“Please,” you whimpered, your body trembling, your nails digging into his shoulders. “Wally—please.”

"Please what, baby? Use your words."

"Need you inside me." Your voice was wrecked, raw with desperation.

He tsked, shaking his head. “Not good enough.” His fingers dipped lower, teasing your entrance, dragging slick, lazy strokes against your soaked folds. “You need me where?”

You groaned in frustration, your head falling back against the tile. “Inside me. Deep inside me. Please.”

"That's better," he murmured approvingly. "See how easy that was?" He slid his fingers inside you, stretching you open, slow, teasing, his thumb circling your clit in lazy, torturous strokes. “You’re fucking dripping for me. Been waiting for this, huh? For my cock to fuck you until you're begging for me to stop?”

Your entire body trembled, heat coiling low in your stomach, overwhelming, unbearable. “Yes—fuck—please.”

He pulled his fingers out, making you whimper at the loss, before gripping your hips and flipping you, pressing your chest against the wet tile. His breath was hot against your shoulder, his cock grinding between your thighs, teasing you, taunting you.

“You wanted to play?” His voice was pure sin, dripping with dark amusement. “Now, sweetheart, you’re gonna shut the fuck up and fucking take it like the good girl that you are.” He lined himself up, his fingers digging into your hips. “And you’re gonna fucking thank me for it.”

Then, with one devastating thrust—he slammed into you.

Your entire body jerked forward, a strangled moan tearing from your throat as he filled you, stretched you, made you take every thick inch of him in one deep stroke. The water rippled violently around you, waves crashing against the pool’s edge, your bodies colliding with pure, reckless need.

“Fuck,” Wally groaned, his fingers bruising against your hips. “You feel so goddamn good. So tight, so fucking perfect.”

Your nails clawed at the tile, trying to hold yourself up as he set a punishing pace, each snap of his hips sending a shockwave through your body. He wasn’t holding back—wasn’t teasing anymore. This was raw. Desperate. Dominant.

His lips ghosted over your shoulder, teeth scraping your skin before he bit down, hard enough to make you whimper. “This what you wanted?”

You could barely breathe, barely think. “Yes—fuck—yes.” Every nerve was on fire, every muscle clenched tight, and all you could think was: more, more, more. You needed more.

His chuckle was low, sinful. “Such a dirty girl. Wanted my cock so bad, didn't you? All you needed to do was ask, baby.” He slammed into you again, harder this time, deeper, the force making you gasp. "But you didn't ask, did you, baby? You fucking teased me until I couldn't hold back any longer. You wanted this the entire time, you little minx. Wanted me to fuck you senselessly."

He drove into you again, deeper this time, his cock slamming against your cervix, making you cry out. The force of it made your head spin, your vision blurring at the edges. You felt him, every inch of him, inside you, stretching you, filling you, claiming you, a possessive, almost desperate grip.

“So fucking good,” he panted, his voice rough with need, his breath hot against your neck. He began to move faster, harder, his hips bucking against yours, the rhythm relentless, unforgiving.

Your head lolled forward, your hair falling over your face, your breath coming in ragged gasps. He was pushing you to the edge, driving you insane, and you were letting him, wanting him to.

“Wally,” you moaned, his name a desperate plea, a raw, untamed sound.

"You like it like this, don't you?" he growled, his voice thick with lust. He pulled out, making you whimper at the sudden loss, his hands manhandling you with such ease, turning you around so that you're looking right at him, his eyes dark and possessive. "Fuck, baby. You take me so fucking well." He grabbed your thighs, lifting them a little bit more, and slammed inside you again, deeper this time, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, dilated, filled with a raw, feral hunger that made your heart pound against your ribs. "Look at me while I fuck you, while I make you mine."

He began moving harder, each thrust deliberate and powerful, his eyes locked on yours.

"Tell me you're mine," he commanded, his voice rough, his grip tightening on your jaw. "Tell me you belong to me, baby. Please."

"Yours," you gasped, your body arching against his. "Only yours."

“Come for me, baby,” he growled, his voice thick with desire, his hands gripping your hips, guiding your movements. “Give it to me.”

And you did. Your body clenched around him, your muscles spasming, a wave of pure, unadulterated pleasure washing over you, making you see stars, a raw, sensual ache. You cried out his name, your voice echoing in the night, your body convulsing around him.

He groaned, his own release building, his thrusts becoming frantic, desperate. He slammed into you one last time, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm, the feeling of him spilling inside you, hot and thick, made you whimper.

He collapsed against you, his weight heavy, his breath ragged and uneven. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, just held each other, breathing heavily, the silence broken only by the sound of the water lapping against the pool’s edge.

Then, slowly, he pulled back, his eyes searching yours. “Fuck,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, his gaze intense. “What did we just do?”

He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of your jaw, a gentle, almost hesitant touch. "Are you okay?" he murmured, his voice softer now, laced with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

You swallowed hard, trying to find your voice, your breath still catching in your throat. "I… I don't know," you whispered, the words barely audible. "Are you?"

He let out a shaky breath, his thumb gently stroking your cheek. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm not... But I think I'm okay with that." He paused, his gaze searching yours, looking for any signs of guilt, regret, or even fear. "God, you feel incredible," he murmured. "I think I might be addicted to you."

"We shouldn't have done this," you whispered.

He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, his eyes dark and intense. "Maybe not," he admitted softly, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. "But fuck, I can't regret it. I don't, baby, I promise. Not even for a fucking second."

"Wally," you whispered, your voice trembling. "What if we just ruined everything?"

He leaned closer, his forehead gently resting against yours. "Then we'll figure it out. And we'll do it together." His voice softened, yet the intensity remained, a promise buried deep in every word. "You're not losing me. No matter what happens, I won't let this break us."

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart ache and flutter all at once. Your fingers traced along his jawline, feeling the roughness of his stubble beneath your fingertips. "Promise?"

His gaze darkened, serious and unwavering. "I promise. I promise. I promise. God, I swear," he murmured fiercely, sealing the promise with a lingering kiss. "It's you and me, baby. Always."

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joostabernichtklein · 1 day ago

Note

Hi,

I NEED a NSFW alphabet

-🪼

-ofc anon, here you go!

⋅ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅Joost Klein NSFW alphabet⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

A = Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

He's so sweet after every single time even though he's sometimes so tired aftewards he always tries to comfort you in any way. Maybe running you a warm bath for you to relax or cleaning up the mess you both made before cuddling you to sleep

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also partner's)

He loves everything about you, but his favourites are definitely his parners thighs/ass/chest, but also your face. He just loves your eyes a lil too much

For him i feel like he likes his hands just because of you. Maybe your hands are smaller than his so it makes him feel a bit bigger...he also finds it kinda hot. He also likes his hair and tattoos

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a runny and not really sticky cum. He would love to cum in you if you're okay with it. If you're not then he loves cumming on your belly or chest just because he likes seeing you covered in his cum. He also loves seeing you swallow it after sucking him off

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

While you were both in your talking stage, the type of one that you just know the person loves you back yk, he would ask for pics of your outfits. You thought it was a cute gesture from him, but he actually secretly used to get off on them. Its the same when he saw you post a pic with you in a swimsuit. It drove him absolutely insane. You definitely have a secret album in his gallery

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He for sure had atleast 2 partners before you so he knows what he's doing, but its still a work in progress. He loves learning about you and your body finding out what makes you feel good

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

he's DEFINITELY a cow-girl enjoyer. Watching you bounce on his cock, seeing how your face twists in pleasure? HE LOVES IT!!!

And he loves the ol' missionary, who wouldn't tho? You don't have to move a finger, just existing and being pretty/handsome, while he chooses the pace? Count him in!

I can't forget doggy style- he escpecially loves how his cum drips down on the bedsheets when he creampies you (it'll definitely make him hard again)

I think it's safe to say he'll try any position with you, and if you both like it, he won't have a problem with doing it again ¬‿¬

G = Goofy (are they more serios in the moment? Are they humorous? ect.)

He's definitely more on the goofy side so he's not 100% serious during sex. One time when you were overstimulated and he instead of answering you got really quiet reaching for his phone, the next thing you know his song BOOM BOOM starts playing on full volume. After he had his laugh he stopped the music and got back to work

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? ect.)

Let's be real...he has a bush. He doesn't really shave but will make sure if you mind it or not. If you do so he has no problem with shaving.

I feel like his pubic hair is the same color as his moustache, something like dirty blonde

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

It depens on the mood honestly. He is a bit silly druing it. When it's your birthday he makes the whole day about you, ofc. The sex would be slow and very romantic. I see him most likely being messy rather than clean. He'd be gentle with you in the start but slowly starts to get rougher toward the end

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He seems like that kind of guy who masturbates every day ('case of his high sex drive 'n stuff). But after you guys start dating/sleeping together, he's totally satisfied, masturbating only if you two don't see each other for long (which i think he'd tell you proudly)

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He definitely has a degrading kink- lemme explain!! while I think he'd be more on the dominant side, he still loves getting called someting like a 'bitch in heat' or a 'whore' (tho pls praise him afterwards)

Dunno I can call it a kink, but he definitelly has a thing for thighs- no matter how big or small they are, he loves marking you there (if you want to ofc) and most of all, he LOVES cumming on them, he always feels so desperate afterwards too :(

Other thing that gets him going is praising you. It makes his ego thrive to be the one with power, to be the one to make you feel good with his words and he also loves calling you petnames (some of his favourite pet names and nicknames include: pretty thing, love, sweetheart, good boy/girl etc!)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Like i already said he's more on the vanilla side he loves the good ol' bed. He also likes shower sex, he finds it so hot. I also feel like he would want try different places for having sex kinda like all around the house like on the couch, in the kitchen, ect

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It's literally anything that has to do with you. If you're changing infront of him don't be suprised if 5 seconds later he's up your ass touching all over you body. Also being close to you turns him on so much. You two could be just laying in your shared bed cuddling and he just gets hard from being so close to you

N = No (something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

Anything to do with piss or shitting. Anything to do with hurting you or anything with age-play, daddy kink etc.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

When i tell you that Joost is a munch i mean it. I mean this video speaks for itself...so he definitely KNOWS how to work that tongue. He loves to eat you out/give you head whenever he can. Waking you up like this is also a must. He loves when you give him head as well. He finds it both cute and so hot when you try to fit his dick down your throat, getting dumb on his cock

P = Pace (are they fast and rought? Slow and sensual? ect.)

This honestly depens on the situation you're in. If its in the morning he definitely likes to slow and takes his time with you. I can so see him waking you up with either eating you out/giving you head

If the sex is after a show or a long time of you two not seeing each other he's definitely gonna be faster and more rough with you because he's just so pent up and missed you so much

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Again i feel like he's not really into quickies. He doesn't mind them before his shows or before you two are supposed to go out somewhere

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? ect.)

He's willing to take the risk honestly. When he's drunk he doesn't really care if somebody catches you two in the act. When he's sober tho he would be a little unsure but if he's really pent up he wouldn't mind giving in

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

He can get a good 2 rounds in if you give him a few minutes to rest after the first one. The 3rd round would be really pushing it for him, but he would try his best for you ofc

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them on a partner or themselves)

I feel like he wouldn't have any toys himself. If you owned one he wouldn't really mind and some time later in your relationship he would also use them on you or even compete with them. Aftewards he would ask you what felt better

If you didn't own any before you started dating I think he wouldn't mind buying a few just to try them out on you later

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

I already said this but he LOVES teasing you. Even tho he's really bad at it and often when you would beg him do to something more he'd give in pretty quickly

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, ect.)

He's not ashamed to moan or cry out your name, he loves to let you know how good you make him feel. He loves being loud just because you told him how hot you find it (cuz tbh who doesn't love a whiny men fr). He doesn't mind the neighbors hearing you two fuck. In short he's really loud

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I'm 100% convinced he had a specific wet dream about having a threesome with you and Aggu. You sucking on his cock, choking on the base, while Aggu fucks you in doggy style, making you moan their names prettily.

X = X-ray (let's see whats going on under those clothes)

He himself once said that he's circumcised so lets get that out of the way. I mean we've all seen some SPECIFIC photos/videos, like the one clip from Glassie Water (right?). So i would say he's a good 16,8 cm, 17 cm if he's really hard (6,6 - 6,7 inches) and lets just say he uses them well. His dick is a little bit curved to the left, not too much tho. The thickest of his dick is not too thick but also not too thin, just the perfect one to strech you out nicely

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Let's be real...he's a horny mf all day long everyday. He knows that his libido is high and would be totally okay if dont want to do anything but will definitely give you the biggest puppy eyes after you say no

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Most of the time he falls asleep quicker than you. Before he does tho he always checks on you to see if you're all set and comfy. He also loves to give you cuddles before falling asleep

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞𓆝 𓆟 𓆞

-not proof-read so if you see any mistakes my apologies

-hoped you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing this!!

-don't forget to send more asks!

#don't forget about wixx🪐⠀#joost klein #joost smut #joost klein smut #joost x reader #joost x you #justice for joost #joostblr #joost klein x reader #joost klein x you #18+ mdni #mdni #anon ask #anons welcome #thanks anon!#down bad

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vikuo-kuma · 1 day ago

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“To have Wings is To have Freedom”

—Teacher’s assistant! Hero! Reader x Various! Invincible

Warnings(?): Degradation, Kidnapping a random alien, might be a short chapter, probably sassy reader.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

——————————

Chapter 3

“Looks like my time was up”, the figure face away from the Guardians, only showing their back side to the team. “Oh?”, within a blink, the person looked like they teleported in front of Mark.

Gripping his chin and holding his wrist above his head, the person tilted his head towards where the ear piece was.

“A new pet to the collection of yours, Cecil? He looks just like a clueless little puppy”, they leaned down talking into the ear piece in Mark’s ear.

Mark felt a slight shiver down his spine, he was too stunned to even turn his head back. But he did get a good look at this mysterious person’s eye. Their eyes glistened with mischief, it seemed like they were grinning with pride.

Cecil’s eyes widened, not knowing how to respond. Why did that voice sound familiar yet so unfamiliar?

“Aw, the little puppy is flustered, how cute”, they tilted Mark’s head back, making him face them. Mark completely forgot about the Mauler twins, almost like he was hypnotized by the look of their eyes.

“Welp”

They backed off, releasing their grip from Mark. Instantly, Mark fell to his knees and he could feel himself trembling. However it wasn’t out of fear, it was something else.

“Ciao, wannabes!”, the figure made a peace sign while winking, before disappearing with the entity in front their eyes.

Everyone who was there turned to face Mark with a shocked expression on their face. While, Mark was still trying to process what had just happened. What the fuck.

———— (*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)

“Lena… I’m home”, you yawned, walking into the lobby of the house.

“So, you finally came home”, a male voice came from upstairs. You looked up to see him, Zack, otherwise known as Tech Jacket.

————————

A/N: I love Tech Jacket design and he’s underrated because Invincible did him dirty 😞

#x reader #atom eve #cecil stedman #invincible #invincible x reader #mark grayson #oliver grayson #rex splode #tech jacket

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chilling-seavey · 1 day ago

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The Silver Arrows (gr63 + nr6)

↳ A/N: I am so excited to announce that I have written this fic as part of my first ever participation in a writing fest! Rare Pair Fest gave me the perfect 'excuse' to write the fic that had been marinating in the back of my mind for weeks and although it was hard to keep it under wraps, I can finally reveal it to you all!

↳ Disclaimer: I am so sorry for this Lewis Hamilton/Brocedes erasure just to satisfy my own fantasy…I respect you and all your accomplishments, Lewis, this is just for writing purposes for this one fic, I swear. Additionally, Nico is not married in this specific timeline; I cannot stomach writing him being unfaithful to lovely Vivian.

↳ Written For: @rarepairfest || Read on AO3

↳ Summary: Abu Dhabi 2016 ends with the high of Nico's World Championship win. Out of everyone in the world, only George knows that Nico plans to retire now that he's won the title. On their last night as teammates, they decide to celebrate the end of an era properly.

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Teammate Nico Roseberg x F1 Grid Girl (Nameless)

↳ Word Count: 22.6k

↳ Warnings: 18+, smut, mmf threesome, George is bi-curious (with arguably internalized homophobia) and his teammate helps him explore, oral sex (m and f receiving), nipple play, spanking, dirty talk, very minor degradation ("slut"), begging, rimming, anal fingering, cum play, anal sex, vaginal sex, George cries from pleasure, use of condoms.

The grid at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix was buzzing with excitement for the last race of the 2016 season. Twenty-two cars were lined up in their grid boxes with mechanics and team members fluttering around them, working between the plethora of lucky fans who weaved their way through, donning VIP passes around their necks. The busiest section of the grid, unsurprisingly, was the front row, where two silver Mercedes W07s were lined up and prepped to perfection.

The Mercedes Formula 1 team was a force to be reckoned with ever since they took the Constructors title from Red Bull’s domination two years earlier. Since then, Mercedes had been at the top of their game in car after car that was virtually unbeatable. The engineering of such a beast was the talk of the sport but their impressive driver lineup was partially to thank too; without skilled drivers, their car wouldn’t be half as impressive to watch.

Nico Rosberg, just thirty-one years of age and starting from the second spot on the grid at the aforementioned Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, had been Mercedes’ pride and joy for six years. Despite consistently being a top contender during Mercedes’ dominant era in the last two years, he had always fallen just short of claiming the coveted World Champion title, narrowly outpaced by the likes of Sebastian Vettel and Daniel Ricciardo, respectfully. Heading into the final race of 2016, however, Nico held a narrow twelve-point lead in the Drivers’ Championship. Everything was on the line.

The driver breathing down his neck in the standings was none other than his teammate, George Russell. At twenty-six, George’s journey in Formula 1 had begun modestly with Williams, where he honed his skills and captured the eye of Mercedes who soon scouted him as their second driver. He joined the elite team just as they began their first season of success—a success many credited to George’s arrival. Though he had yet to claim a World Title, he was just twelve points shy of his teammate in the lead. What he wouldn’t give to beat his more experienced counterpart and snatch that Championship trophy before him.

There was no doubt that Nico and George were incredible teammates; arguably a pairing of an era. Both were fierce and strongly skilled competitors on the track but also got along incredibly well off track. Nico took George under his wing from the beginning, sharing in their history at Williams and helping to mould the development of their beloved Mercedes together. They were friendly with each other but, like the mindset of every Formula 1 racing driver, once they were in the car, it was every man for himself.

George stood outside his car, his focused gaze lingering on the bold red ‘6’ on his teammate’s car a few paces back from his as he fastened up his white race suit and made sure the wires and cords were in place. Nico was already in the car as the second passed towards the race start, helmet on and speaking to one of his mechanics who was leaning over the car into the cockpit. Tearing his eyes away with dire need to focus on his own race, George pulled up the headband from around his neck to secure it around the crown of his head to keep his hair out of his face, before taking his balaclava from the team member beside him.

Then, he was glancing at the young woman standing in front of his car, donning a purple dress and red beret, her gaze almost distant. He gave her a discreet once over before speaking to her, his words unintelligible.

She hadn’t anticipated being spoken to, especially not over the roar of the machinery and the twenty-two cars being started up, and so she leaned in a little towards him, “Sorry?”

George leaned in too with a small smile, speaking a little louder, “I said, your feet must hurt in those shoes.”

She glanced down at her ridiculously high heels then back up at him with a smile of her own, “It’s okay. I can lean my weight on this.”

She lifted the long metal dowel she had been holding onto, the sign secured at the top and reading RUSSELL 63 in bold type. The job of a grid girl wasn’t difficult (and arguably not important, either, in the grand scheme of things) but it paid sufficient money and she silently deemed herself quite lucky to have been assigned to the young and handsome George Russell for the season; always the one to be holding his sign in front of his car before every race.

Most of the grid girls weren’t acknowledged by their drivers and they were all strictly told to not speak unless spoken to so their shifts of standing and holding a sign were quite tiresome. George, however, always at least said hello to his assigned grid girl and, the odd time, shared a brief, surface level conversation. He was humble and kind and it always made her feel welcome in a grid riddled with men, or so he had hoped.

George pulled his helmet on over his balaclava and then climbed into his car, donned with the number 63 in brilliant sky blue against the silver livery. His team helped him get situated, hurrying to make sure everything was in order as the seconds ticked by. The crews started to move off the grid and that meant so did the grid girls. George was already intensely focused in his car so he didn’t even notice her slip away with her sign. She was used to it, going about undetected. It was her job to stand there quietly, after all, not to be his friend.

The grid girls made their way through the empty pitlane and into the large building that divided the circuit from the paddock. A perk of the job was getting to watch the races from the private Formula 1 VIP balcony and there, the girls gathered just as the formation lap came to an end. Twenty-two cars lined back up in their grid boxes to await the green flag at, subsequently, the illumination of the five red lights.

The engines rumbled from the cars, waiting patiently as the lights turned on slowly, one by one. George’s hands tightened on his wheel, staring up at them through his visor with nothing on his mind but to drive. Everything else fell away once he got in that car. He had a one track mind.

The five lights went out and he slammed his foot down on the throttle, tearing off from the first place line ahead of his counterparts and keeping his place. He cut into the first corner, keeping back his teammate with practiced ease and staying firmly in first. George let out a breath. Inhale, exhale. He just had to bring it home.

George drove a brilliant race; keeping his lead through all fifty-five laps without a single mistake. He knew it was yet another flawless race to add to his ever growing collection—another trophy to make room for on his shelf—but he knew it wasn’t enough. No matter how great of a race he achieved that day, his World Championship rested on the faults of his teammate. And his teammate was virtually faultless.

George led Nico past the checkered flag, ahead by only half of a second. As the two Mercedes crossed the line, fireworks erupted above the Yas Marina Circuit, bringing them home beneath sparks of pyrotechnics. As George slowed into his cool down lap, all he could hear was the roar of his car and the raggedness of his breathing, grounded by his racing heart thudding in his ears and an evil pit of disappointment churning in his stomach.

On his left, the identical car of his teammate met his pace and George raised a gloved hand out of his cockpit in a congratulatory thumbs up. Nico offered the same sentiment in return; and his hand was almost quivering with adrenaline. Just as Max Verstappen’s Red Bull and Sebastian Vettel’s Ferrari pulled up on either side of Nico for their own congratulations, George looked back to the road ahead to bring his car safely back to the team.

The radio in his earpiece crackled to life and his engineer spoke to him, “Amazing drive, amazing season, George. We’ll get ‘em next year.”

George pressed the button on his steering wheel to reply, keeping his answer polite and genuine and as void of the storm of emotions within him, “Yep. Thanks, guys. The whole team…everyone at the factory…everyone watching at home. What a season. Congrats to Nico. Onto 2017.”

Once parked in parc ferme, George went about the routine of getting out of his car without much thought. His mind felt like it was full of static, a jumble of emotions that he couldn’t quite work out in his hazy mixture of adrenaline and disappointment. On the other side of the pitwall, he could hear the roar of Nico’s Mercedes doing celebratory burnouts on the straight, clouds of smoke of burnt rubber rising from the asphalt and into the night sky.

George greeted his team over the metal fences, sharing hugs and pats in congratulations on his most impressive season to date. George knew he drove an impressive season and he knew Nico was just slightly better, but it didn’t make the sting of watching his dream slip through his fingers yet again any easier.

It was a blur for Nico, too, in his own way as he shared hugs of camaraderie with a few of his fellow drivers who came to congratulate him, barely recognizing who was who with how intense everything felt in that moment. Despite his internal battle as the pain of being runner-up settled uncomfortably in his heart, George met his teammate in the middle of parc ferme and gave him a congratulatory embrace, giving him a pat on the back and to his helmet. Through Nico’s open visor, George could see the crinkles by his eyes with how big he was smiling.

George headed into the FIA building and up the stairs to the cooldown room, his helmet and gloves in hand. The hallway was lined with the grid girls in their matching outfits and ridiculous heels, applauding for the top three, and he passed by them without another glance, still far too in his mind to think of manners at that moment. But, when he walked by that one familiar face just before reaching the door, she sent him a smile more genuine than the plastered on ones her counterparts wore. He smiled faintly at her in return and slipped into the cooldown room.

He set his sky blue helmet and matching gloves on the P1 pedestal and took the water bottle instead, unscrewing the gap and taking a lengthy sip to cool (and calm) down. Sebastian was already in there and he drifted over to George for a pat on the shoulder and a congratulations on his win and successful season. George tried to accept it with a smile but even he knew it must have fallen a little flat. In return, the well-versed five-time Champion offered him some brief words of wisdom that were drowned out by the influx of cheering coming from the hallway.

Nico came nearly bounding into the room, still donning his helmet and knee pads, embracing team members as he went. Lingering to the side with his water bottle, George watched as Nico took off his helmet and balaclava and set it aside to finally breathe, his blonde hair matted across his forehead and sticking up in all directions with sweat. George was sure his hair was no better and he turned back to the pedestal to take his Pirelli 1st Place Cap and put it on.

From behind him, Nico’s hands rested on his shoulders, giving him a little excitable shake to grab his attention. George turned around and Nico’s infectious smile had George’s bitter edge softening a little and he found his own lips turning up in the corners. Then, behind the explosions of fireworks and the noise of celebration muted through the windows of the cooldown room and the lively chatter from the hallway, Nico spoke in a lowered voice meant just for him, “Couldn’t have done it without you. Next year; yours.”

The honesty in Nico’s words hit him straight in the chest and George just stood there for a moment as his elder teammate—and, in the same breath, his mentor—gave him another pat on the shoulder. George stood and watched him for just a moment as he drifted away to speak with someone else, letting the meaning behind his statement settle on his conscience. Out of everyone in that room and, really, everyone in the world, only George knew the secret that Nico carried.

He was going to retire.

He confided in George that the season he won his World Championship would be the season he would announce his retirement from Formula 1.

With the adrenaline from the race diminishing and the reminder of how much George had accomplished under Nico’s wing, his momentary jealousy fell to pieces at his feet. Nico had meant so much to him over his career; even from his awkward beginnings at Williams and Mercedes Juniors…it had always been Nico who helped to mold him into the record breaking racer he was that day. To think they had just raced their last race together suddenly felt incredibly solemn.

George’s feet carried him across the room to where Nico and Sebastian were talking animatedly, sharing in their joy and excitement. The sight of him had Nico slinging an arm around his shoulders—having to raise up on his toes slightly to do so, however—and pulled his younger, lanky teammate closer, contorting him into a weird hunch.

“You’re a good rival, Georgie.” Nico teased lightheartedly. “Giving me grey hairs early and everything.”

Sebastian smiled between the two in their matching white and teal race suits as he sipped his water.

“Some might say I learned from the best but I’d have no clue who they’d mean.” George shrugged sarcastically, earning him Nico’s fist rubbing playfully at the top of his head. George slunk out from under his arm and gave his shoulder a shove, the two of them sharing lingering grins.

The post-race interviews and podium celebration went by in a blur for George. He hardly recalled lifting his first place trophy in the air or speaking to Coulthard about his feelings on the race and the season in front of the crowds, but, if nothing else, the shower of sparkling cider that was sprayed in his face by the hands of his teammate snapped him back into it. It would be their last podium shared and George was determined to make the most of it; drenching Nico in sticky expensive bubbly.

He and Sebastian shared the responsibility of pouring the remainder of their bottles into Nico’s mouth, the newest World Champion tilting his head back to catch the bubbling streams of liquid until it was cascading down his chin and his neck and soaking his race suit even more. George tried not to stare, not wanting the cameras to pick up on the fact that he was trying not to engrave the sight in his mind.

And then it was done. Trophies were carried off the podium and empty bottles were passed aside and media duties down in the paddock were completed routinely. George went through the motions like any other race despite the fact that he kept finding himself nearly glued to Nico’s side like he was his damn trophy-wife. He didn’t mean to look so pathetic, trailing alongside his World Champion teammate—whom he had four inches on; making his shadowing all the more ridiculous looking—through their post-race routines, but Nico didn’t bat an eye. He always liked George and was more than happy to accept his company on what only they knew would be their last race together. George was special to him.

They shared the excitement in the Mercedes garage where the team was spraying more champagne and hugs were going around from person to person. Even George got his fair share of hugs for a successful season and, of course, for helping achieve yet another Constructors Championship for Mercedes. Amongst all the chaos, George ended up in the striking quiet of the paddock out the back of the garage for a moment to breathe, leaving Nico to his conversations with nosy news outlets shoving microphones in his face.

George’s ears were ringing a little from the noise of the evening from the screaming of the crowds and the explosions of the fireworks, most of the paddock having either gone home or were busy in their associated garages to pack up from the end of the season. He rested back against the wall and took a cleansing breath, staring up into the inky night sky above Abu Dhabi and the waving palm branches along the strip.

The sound of a door opening had him turning his head to the side, watching as a group of grid girls came walking out of the building, back in their street clothes and chatting together. He stayed where he was, illuminated by the lights along the back of the Mercedes building, his eyes lingering on the one familiar presence amongst the small crowd. As if sensing his stare, she met his gaze and they shared a small smile. George cocked his head to call her over.

She parted ways with her colleagues, sharing end-of-season hugs and promising to stay in touch, and as they headed for the exit of the paddock, she made her way over to George. She hiked her bag higher on her shoulder, falling to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” George pushed himself away from the wall a little to stand in front of her.

“Hey, race winner.” she smiled fondly, her voice a warm polite drawl.

George shrugged, “Race winner is nothing compared to what I could have had today.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself.” she tutted, “Five points difference is almost entirely unheard of; you’re an incredibly impressive racer. This season was no more than a matter of chance at the end of it, really. Next year I’m sure you got him.”

“Yeah, well…” George faded out. His mind went back to the fact that he would have a new teammate next year, no longer sharing the highs and lows with Nico. It wasn’t his news to share and yet he really desperately wanted to tell her; to tell someone.

There was a pause between them.

George changed the subject slightly, “Are you coming back for next season?”

“Yeah, I hope so.” she replied, “Will you put in a good word for me?”

“You know I will.” George smiled honestly, his big blue eyes lingering on her. He added a flirty, “I want first choice for the most beautiful girl on the grid after all.”

“Oh really?” she flushed modestly, playing it off with a light tut.

“Yeah, really.” answered George with ease, “I think it’d look entirely wrong to have you out there holding any other driver’s number other than mine.”

“All I’m hearing is confirmation of the rumour that Formula 1 drivers are selfish.” she teased with a playful smile.

George laughed out loud, a warm, genuine sound that filled the night air in their momentary privacy. He was still in his racesuit and damp from champagne, his 1st place Pirelli cap still on his head and hiding his mess of cider-drenched hair. In the artificial illumination of the paddock under the night sky, he almost glistened, and the slight flush of his cheeks appeared extra rosy against his fair skin.

His brief laughter at her tease faded and the two of them just stared at each other a moment, as if memorizing one another. It wasn’t new, him staring at her. Most of the time he only really saw her when he was busy preparing for a race and she was stationed at the front of his car with his sign, but, in the odd times where nothing else held his attention, he always enjoyed staring at her. The fact that she always stared right back was almost thrilling, sending his heart doing somersaults in his chest.

After a moment, she broke their shared silence first, “Winter break is going to be painfully long.”

George’s lips turned up a little at the corners, as if easily understanding the underlying meaning behind her statement and sharing in its sentiment, “Incredibly so.”

“You know—” she started.

At the same time, George spoke too, “I wasn’t sure if—”

The two of them shared soft laughter at the synchronization and then she gestured to him to speak first.

“I was just going to say,” George cleared his throat, staring into her eyes like he always did when he spoke to someone, “I wasn’t sure if you’re living in the Monaco area but I wouldn’t mind maybe grabbing a coffee or something together over the break?”

Her eyes widened at his offer, taking by slight surprise, “Oh. I mean…yeah. Yeah, that’d be really nice.”

George’s face relaxed, “Yeah?”

Just then, the back door opened and out came Nico, surprisingly alone. He let out a heavy breath and stalked over to the pair of them, clapping his hand to George’s shoulder with that smile that hadn’t seemed to leave his face since the checkered flag.

“Hey, what’s going on out here?” he greeted.

George offered him a polite smile, hiding the slight swell in his heart at the sight of his beloved teammate, “Nothing. Just chatting.”

Nico glanced between you both and then sent George a pointed glance, “Just chatting? You’ve got a beautiful girl in front of you and you’re just talking about, what, the weather?”

“No,” she cut in with a casual statement, all without taking your eyes off George in front of her, even as Nico glanced your way, “he’s been a pretty good flirt too.”

Nico’s face contorted into an expression of amused pride and he looked back at his teammate, giving George’s shoulder a squeeze, “Oh, really now?”

George let out a breathy chuckle, pushing a hand through his hair, “I wouldn’t say flirting. Just...friendly conversation.”

“Friendly, huh?” Nico teased, his grin widening, tightening his hand on George’s shoulder, “Well, I’ve seen your every-day version of friendly, and let me just say, it’s not half as charming as what I just walked in on.”

She laughed softly, the warm atmosphere between the three of them feeling effortless, “He is always incredibly charming.”

“I should have known you’d be good at this, Georgie.” Nico badgered with a voice thick with friendly teasing, “Always a smooth talker when it counts.”

George chuckled softly, his smile returning to its usual confident charm without taking his eyes off the young woman in front of them, “I dunno, I’m still trying to figure out just how to properly impress her.”

Nico smirked, leaning in just a little closer to his counterpart with his hand squeezing his shoulder, his voice dropping to a lower, almost conspiratorial tone, “Well, you might want to do more than talk. You know, it’s the actions that really do it.”

She couldn’t help the slightly nervous laugh that slipped from her lips at what the older man was implying; her hand raising to cover her mouth and she turned her face away to hide her amusement. George was thankful that at least that way she would not have to face the crimson that was inching across his cheeks at the same time. Nico only grinned and gave George’s shoulder a jostle.

Then, he was speaking, “Right, so what do you two say we keep this little party going? I was thinking about having a little private celebration back at my apartment if you both would be interested. I’m flying back to Monaco tonight and you’re welcome to join me. Celebrate the right way, yeah? Just us. What do you think?”

George exchanged a quick glance with her, a shared look of intrigue and curiosity. His heart leapt into his throat: a private celebration…just them. When he didn’t see any hints of doubt on her face, he turned back to Nico with a slight nod, “That sounds good.”

“Great,” Nico said with that handsome smile of his, “I have to wrap up some things here but let’s meet at the hangar at 10:00.”

“10 is good.” George nodded in agreement.

“‘Sounds good’, ‘ten is good’; everything is good to you tonight.” Nico laughed teasingly, far too excitable to have much of a filter, and gave George’s bicep a squeeze as he stepped away. “See you then.”

As Nico disappeared inside, George turned to her with a soft smile, his voice quieter now, trying not to let the hints of trepidation appear, “Well, looks like we’re in for an interesting night.”

She smiled back and George could have sworn he saw a sparkle in her eye as she replied, “I’d say so.”

George was definitely not a virgin, he would have that known, thank you. He had a handful of girlfriends in his twenty-six years and plenty of blurry one-night stands or the odd repeat no-strings-attached connection—the joys that came with a Formula 1 career, really—and he prided himself on his well-trained collection of sexual experiences over the last decade. Sure, the beginning few were memories he kept locked away but he had definitely grown and, not to be cocky or anything, but he was sure his recent few partners in passing would gladly speak to his skills.

Despite the double-digit body count he held in his back pocket, sitting in Nico Rosberg’s Monaco penthouse that Monday night, George suddenly felt incredibly inexperienced. He had shared his teammate’s private jet back to the Principality, went home just long enough for a quick sleep and shower and shave, before finding himself sitting on the expensive white sofa in the living room.

Nico was across the room, pouring drinks at the silver bar cart, still buzzing off of his day-old Championship win and talking excitedly about this or that, his voice almost echoing in the spacious apartment. George bit his tongue from reminding him that technically he wasn’t World Champion until the formal awards’ ceremony in a fortnight; who was he to deny his comrade his excitement after he had been so kind and taken him under his wing for years.

On George’s right, his grid girl was sitting beside him in a modest floral dress with her hair done and a light face of makeup, resting on the couch where his arm was draped over the back. He could smell her perfume with how close she was and he kept catching himself glancing between her and Nico like he didn’t know where to look. She was listening politely to Nico’s ramblings, pitching into conversation where she could and seeming to fit in just fine with the two of them. George might have been a bit in awe of her for that.

It wasn’t unheard of for some of the grid girls to be invited to parties with the drivers and even to spark up hushed relationships with them here and there. Some of her colleagues spoke in whispers about their own thrilling one-night-only stories that had her sworn to secrecy; so once she found herself sitting in the multi-million euro penthouse with not one but both handsome Mercedes drivers, she felt a little out of her depth.

Naturally, she shifted a little closer to George’s side, marginally so. He noticed, stealing a glance her way, and his arm around the back of the couch dropped a little closer, just enough to brush his fingertips over her shoulder and the light fabric of her dress. He hadn’t realized how captivating her profile was until then, really taking a moment to stare at her in the cozy light of the living room and the orange-hues of the setting sun over the skyline.

Nico, finally finishing pouring the drinks, flashed a cheeky grin as he turned back toward the two of them with the three crystal glasses balanced in his hands, “Alright, I’m thinking we all need to toast to this incredible season.”

He came over to the couch and she and George took their glasses from him with soft thanks. Nico then sat on George’s other side, sandwiching him between them both, thighs touching. George scuffed the toe of his socked foot along the hardwood chevron floor as he shifted in place and raised his hand to meet in the middle to clink glasses.

From his left, Nico announced, “To two championship wins, being the best damn team in the sport for the third year running, and to George carrying on the Mercedes domination for years to come.”

George could feel the young woman’s eyes glancing between them at that last sentiment but no one spoke to it. Instead, they shared fleeting notes of agreement and clinked their crystal glasses together before taking a sip of their drinks. The momentary silence stretched on for a moment before Nico leaned forward, setting his glass down on the coffee table with an exaggerated sigh.

“You know,” he began, his voice laced with amusement, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen George this quiet in my life.”

The young woman laughed softly, glancing at George, “Really? He seems pretty comfortable to me.”

Nico smirked and lounged back on the couch himself alongside them both, “Oh, he’s comfortable, alright. Too comfortable, if you ask me. Georgie here normally never shuts up. He only gets like this when he’s got something—or someone—on his mind.”

George groaned, already feeling the heat in his cheeks, “Blimey, mate, do you ever stop?”

“Not when I’m right,” Nico shot back, winking past him to the woman on his other side, sharing in the moment of playful banter, “and judging by the way you’ve been sitting so close to her since the second you sat down, I’d say I’m right on the money.”

Where others might have been passive in the private company of two Formula 1 drivers, this young woman refused to back down, meeting Nico’s teasing gaze with a smirk of her own, “Maybe he’s quiet because you haven’t allowed him a word in otherwise since we got here.”

“Oh, she’s quick,” Nico declared with a playful grimace and a playful scoff.

George shook his head at his ridiculousness, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed his amusement. He could feel his heart beating hard in his chest and with another sip of his liquid courage, he wanted to see just how much he could push this. So he turned to the woman on his right, his voice quieter but no less playful, “I think he’s just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Nico echoed, feigning offense, “I don’t get jealous…I have no need to get jealous. I’m just...invested in my teammate’s happiness, that’s all.”

“Uh-huh,” she replied effortlessly, taking another sip of your drink, “and how exactly do you plan to ensure his happiness?”

Nico leaned back in his spot, his smirk taking on a more wicked edge, “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas.”

She leaned in, prying a little further, “Perhaps ideas that tie into your toast of ‘George carrying on the Mercedes domination’?”

George and Nico exchanged glances as if debating if they were going to bring up the secret that only they knew. George knew it wasn’t his place to speak so he let the silence linger for only Nico to fill it how he saw fit. Finally, after a beat, Nico’s eyes softened under the lingering stare of his younger teammate and he looked back over at her.

“Well,” he began with a breath, his voice steady but tinged with gravity, “between us three here, I’ve made a decision. After the awards ceremony this year, I’m retiring. I won’t be back in Formula 1 next season.”

George’s eyes flickered to the young woman to gauge her reaction, watching how her eyebrows raised and her mouth fell open slightly. She blinked once, twice, and then, “Oh. Wow. That’s…a big decision.”

Nico chuckled warmly and clapped a hand on George’s shoulder proudly, “Yeah. I’ll be passing the reins on to my very capable mentee here. So, I thought tonight could be a celebration of sorts—of everything we’ve accomplished together and our final season as teammates. One last hurrah.”

“That’s...huge,” she said finally, leaning back slightly as if giving the moment the space it deserved, “I mean, congratulations, of course, but it’s hard to imagine Formula 1 without you, Nico.”

“Yes, it will be an adjustment but it feels right.” Nico shrugged, glancing back at George who was already staring at him unwaveringly, big blue eyes almost unblinking. Nico was used to his teammate’s intense gaze, and he reached over to gently nudge George’s cheek with a friendly smile, trying to bring the mood back to where it had been. “Enough of the heavy stuff now. How about this celebration?”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” George asked, trying to keep his voice at an even tone so as to not expose the anticipation of the unknown that was bubbling up inside him.

“Well,” Nico reached forward to pick up his glass again, always such an expert at playing it cool, “I was thinking we could move somewhere a bit more comfortable…a little bit more intimate to kick this up a notch. What do we think?”

George’s mind raced as the unspoken invitation settled over them. His heart warred with itself—one part of him burning with curiosity and a longing he hadn’t dared name, and the other whispering that this wasn’t who he was. At least, not who he thought he was supposed to be. He glanced at the woman with them to gauge her reaction, surprised to see the intrigued smile on her face and the way her teeth sunk into her bottom lip. Without a word she nodded in agreement and then met George’s gaze to hear his thoughts.

Now both she and Nico were looking at him expectantly, and George didn’t know what to do. He had wanted to take her out properly first—have a real date, ease into something meaningful—before suddenly jumping into bed with her. And for a threeway at that. Yet the thrill it held, the lack of barriers or awkward first-date conversations, was tempting.

And then there was Nico.

George’s gaze flickered to his mentor, his friend, the man who had guided him through the ranks of Formula 1. Nico was everything George had aspired to be—brilliant, charismatic, unshakably confident. George had admired him since his awkward, gangly teenage years, staring up at the podium where Nico stood as the rising star. He couldn’t deny that he always knew Nico was attractive but he never let himself think anything more of that; their shared ice baths or training sessions were simply professional and he was very good at putting things out of his head when he needed to.

Oh, God, he had truly pushed so much out of his mind over the years: so much he didn’t want to burden Nico with—hell, burden himself with. Now, George was trapped between a beautiful woman and a gorgeous man with the offer of exploring more without complications or judgment dangling right in front of him. Was he really considering this?

For a fleeting second, his old instincts kicked in, the ones that had always whispered to him to stay safe, stay predictable. But then Nico smiled at him—warm and encouraging—and the last of his resistance unraveled. He knew he’d be absolutely stupid to decline. Besides, deep down he must have been prepared for this offer in some way based on how thoroughly he showered before coming over.

Fuck it.

The plush king size bed sank dreamily under George’s weight as he settled on the edge of the mattress. His eyes followed Nico’s movements as his mentor set his half-empty crystal glass on the nightstand with a dull clink, his navy button up already unbuttoned twice from the top. George wasn’t sure when he had done that but, regardless, now he found his eyes lingering on the pale triangle of exposed skin beneath the jewel toned fabric of his shirt.

He was torn from his thoughts by a gentle hand on his shoulder and, from behind him, his gorgeous grid girl leaned in to press a fleeting kiss to his cheek. She gave his shoulder a squeeze as she settled in place on the bed beside him, draping herself against his body and nosing at his earlobe. From only the fleeting touches but with the promise of more dangling in the weighted tension in the room, George could feel his cock twitch in his slacks in anticipation.

Nico finished their trio on the girl’s other side, the two men eyeing her up as she settled between them. Almost like he were an experienced pro in more than just motorsports, Nico’s hand gravitated to her thigh and just up under the hem of her floral dress. George’s eyes were locked on the subtle movement, watching the way goosebumps rose over her smooth skin under the ghostly touch of Nico’s slender fingers. Nothing had even happened yet and George was already feeling his heart racing hard in his chest.

“You look so nervous, George.”

Nico’s sudden statement had George’s attention snapping up from the girl’s lap to his teammate’s smirking face. He was sure he looked a mess, flushed cheeks and all. It was getting harder to hide the intrigue that he was once so good at pushing to the back of his mind.

“First threesome?”

George chucked faintly, trying to brush off the hints of uncertainty and anticipation brewing inside him without showing just how much out of his depth he really was, “Something like that.”

“We’ll take it slow,” Nico promised in a breath, his voice warm and low and comforting.

His hand slid farther along the inside of the beautiful woman’s thigh and her attention was drawn to him, pulled in by his alluring presence that even George couldn’t fault her for. Nico was, in all senses of the term, completely captivating. The woman between them was no less than beautiful herself and George had accepted that realization since the first few races of the season when she was assigned as his Grid Girl. Now, looking between them as the two beautiful figures stared at each other with a shared tension of desire blossoming between them, George didn’t know who to focus on more.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to grapple with that decision for long because they both then leaned in to share a tentative kiss between them. George’s heart leapt into his throat, watching as she and Nico eased into lingering kisses that filled the quiet bedroom with the soft sounds of their lips meeting and parting. With an instinctual lick to his lips, George watched the connection of their mouths and the lock of their lips, how they moved together like some effortless dance.

Her laugh was sweet and low against his lips and George could see Nico smile into it as his hand raised to cradle the side of her face. They were a vision George couldn’t look away from, taking in every atom of their connection like he wanted them engraved in his brain so he could still see them when he closed his eyes. He caught himself lingering on Nico’s profile a little longer, taking in the flex of his jaw and the lines of his face as he kissed the beautiful woman in front of him. In his hazy mind, George wasn’t sure if he wanted to be Nico or be the one he was kissing like that.

Forcing the thought aside, George shuffled a little closer to the pair and let his hand rest against her thigh, gently caressing just beneath the hem of her dress. Despite the uncertainty of the situation, George had gone through the rhythms before; well versed in touching and pleasuring women. The goosebumps that rose over her thigh as his fingers played with her skin were a hint of proof and the way her breath hitched as his fingers slid farther along her inner thigh sealed the confirmation.

She pulled away from Nico’s lips and turned her head towards George, easily taking him in for a just as needy kiss. George groaned lowly as he met her pace, eyes fluttering shut to melt into it as he tasted her mouth for the first time after a season of dreaming about it. Perhaps, if he was delusional enough, he would claim he tasted Nico’s mouth on her tongue. Maybe that’s just what he told himself.

With the ever-present awareness that Nico was watching them, George put on his best efforts, helping himself to her mouth with his tongue until she was whining into his sloppy kiss. Nico’s hands slid around her back and unzipped her dress and, without breaking away from George, she let the floral fabric fall down her arms.

She wasn’t wearing a bra and almost immediately, the older man’s greedy hand went right to her chest, pinching one of her hardening nipples between thumb and forefinger. Nico had a sly grin over his handsome face, watching the way her skin pebbled under his touch before he was dipping down to take her nipple in his mouth.

She broke away from George with a sweet smile and a little gasp, leaning back onto her hands to stare down at the way he sucked on her breast and slicked her up in his spit. George watched his teammate’s mouth work on her just as intently while his hand tugged at the bunched up fabric of her dress around her waist to encourage her to lift her hips so he could take it off of her. She complied obediently and the dress was discarded to the floor.

The rustling of sheets, of clothes, the panting of breaths, and the landing of wet kisses over slowly exposed skin; the bedroom was a flurry of rising passion. The trio ended up moving more to the centre of the bed, the woman’s lips being shared between the two men as they stripped down until the three were only left in their underwear. She was framed by two handsome, well built, athletic men, urging her hands to touch all over them, wherever she could reach. Despite her attention, George’s eyes kept flicking over her to Nico.

He looked so casual like he had been doing things like this all his life, busy tending to the beautiful woman between them with his lips on her neck and making her expression fall into withering pleasure with ease. George took his hand from between her legs, fingertips faintly slick from the dampness that saturated her panties, and, in a fit of bravery, reached his hand out to rest on Nico’s bare knee. The man didn’t even flinch, still licking and sucking at the woman’s neck.

George slid his hand up higher, feeling the faint hair and firm muscle of Nico’s thigh under his damp fingertips. He caressed his skin slowly, timidly, testing the waters and the limits. He felt so wrong for doing that, as if at any moment, his teammate was going to pull away from his ministrations and tell him off. But he didn’t. In fact, George could have sworn he saw him spread his legs a little wider on the bed to permit him closer.

The gorgeous woman giggled, watching George’s hesitation. With a brave hand, she took his wrist and pulled his hand across her lap and right to the front of Nico’s snug briefs. George nearly choked on his spit, eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at his hand on Nico’s crotch. He could feel the shape of his dick through his briefs, the warmth of him, the thickness.

George swallowed, trying not to think about the fact that he was nearly salivating.

“Is he hard already?” she asked in a purr, interrupting his short-circuiting mind as she pushed her hand through his hair.

George licked his lips, watching his hand timidly rub the obvious bulge beneath the thin fabric, barely managing out a, “Yeah…getting there.”

Nico pulled away from her neck with a playful smile, directing to the group, “We’re getting nice and acquainted now, aren’t we?”

His eyes were on George’s next, a storm in his irises that had the younger teammate’s stomach flipping with unspoken anticipation, and his smile still ever present on his face. Nico licked and bit his kiss-swollen lips as George palmed him warmly over his underwear, letting out a small hum of approval at the friction. George pressed his hand down a little harder, feeling the way Nico’s cock twitched and his hips bucked up ever so slightly against his touch. His lips parted in near awe.

The woman’s dainty fingers pushed through George’s hair again and scratched gently at the nape of his neck, pulling a small groan from his throat, his eyelids fluttering dreamily. He felt like he was dreaming; a wonderful, pinch-yourself kind of dream…and nothing that noteworthy had even happened yet. Then suddenly, he wasn’t quite sure who exactly made the first move, but Nico’s underwear was coming off and he was settling himself back against the upholstered headboard entirely nude.

Nico’s dick was impressively average. The thought had George almost laughing out loud with the irony of it all; Nico Rosberg, Mercedes’ Golden Boy, Formula 1 World Drivers’ Champion, a man larger than life itself, had a perfectly standard cock. Oh, how to humanize the man he had put on a pedestal for so long. Of course, there was nothing wrong with that and, even still, George found himself craving him more than ever. It was getting harder to push those thoughts to the back of his brain and hide them under forgotten memories.

George watched as the girl crawled her way up Nico’s outstretched legs and leaned over him for a sloppy kiss. Her lacy hot pink thong was nestled between her cheeks and George’s eyes lingered on the curve of her ass and the flesh of her hips and the slight arch of her back. His hand reached out to drag down her spine, feeling each soft bump of her vertebrae until he reached her tailbone and then caressed his warm palm over the shape of her ass. She pulled away from Nico’s lips and tossed her hair over her shoulder as she glanced back at George, giving him a sly smile and a little wiggle.

“You can spank it, if you want.” she told him.

Nico’s fingers threaded through her free flowing hair to brush it out of her face absentmindedly, his attention drawn back to George who lifted his hand just enough to drop it back down against her ass with a sharp smack. Her soft gasp was almost erotic in itself and George let himself squeeze the blushing flesh of her ass in his greedy hand. Then, without another word, she was moving down Nico’s body, kissing down his chest and faint abs and settling herself between his legs.

“Perhaps we should start off with our World Champion?” she purred.

George tried to ignore how that simple sentence sent a plethora of emotions through his mind and heart—a reminder he wasn’t World Champion and a reminder that he wasn’t either giving or receiving. Perhaps he would do well with some watching to start off.

So, George shifted forward on the bed for a better view as she teased her tongue along the length of Nico’s dick all while her siren eyes stared up at him. She took him in one hand, helping to smear the tip against her spitty lips before finally taking the head in her mouth. Nico sucked in a tight breath at the sensation and George’s eyes flicked up to him for a moment, watching how his face contorted in a pleasured furrow as he stared down at the woman between his legs.

She hummed pleasantly as if she was thoroughly enjoying herself and her free hand reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear. Almost by instinct, George reached forward and gently brushed her hair back from her face and held it in a messy makeshift ponytail for her so she could more easily start to sink her mouth lower on his teammate’s cock. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of her lips wrapped around his girth, the slight stretch of her jaw to accommodate him, the dampness that lingered behind from her mouth on every up-stroke.

Just then in a voice far too complacent for the circumstance, Nico cocked his head at George, “Come up here, mate. The view is incredible.”

George tried to ignore how the ‘mate’ made him feel a little funny and, instead, he gently let go of her hair and shifted farther up the bed to join Nico back against the headboard. From that angle, almost shoulder to shoulder with him, he could see directly down his naked body to where the woman was sucking pleasantly on his cock. George was entranced for a moment, watching her pretty face nestle itself lower and lower towards his teammate’s pelvis, taking more and more of him as her mouth made the filthiest sounds.

“Such a good girl,” Nico praised lowly, his voice thick with pleasure, while his hands took over in her hair to hold it back from her face himself, guiding her into her steady motions.

George tore his eyes away from the woman to glance to his right where his teammate was resting comfortably against down-filled pillows and the upholstered headboard. Nico’s eyes were heavy-lidded, pupils dilated with lust, and his jaw momentarily tightened in unrestrained satisfaction as a faint flush touched across the apples of his cheeks and down his neck. It was a version of Nico that George had never seen before; so pleasured and without inhibitions. Enchanting.

Nico let out a small breath that was laced in with a groan as the wet sounds of the woman’s mouth on him grew louder, more pronounced, as she worked him masterfully. George glanced back down at her, watching Nico’s fingers tight in her hair and how his bicep tensed slightly as he tried not to yank her too far down. Without a thought, George’s hand reached for the front of his underwear and gave himself a small squeeze over the thin fabric.

He hadn’t realized he was already growing hard until that moment, finding his dick straining against the material of his briefs under his palm. George sucked in a tight breath as the pleasure sensors sizzled under his touch and he kept his palm rubbing over his clothed erection with his eyes flicking between the woman giving the blowjob and the handsome man receiving it. A moment later, his attention still focused between his counterparts, George slid his hand under the waistband of his underwear to touch himself properly, giving himself a few lazy and restricted strokes with his fingertips.

It was a whole new situation for George; sitting there watching two people succumb to their desire right in front of him. He couldn’t look away at first, taking in every ounce of their moment, until, again, he glanced over at Nico sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. It was as if the look of his teammate’s expression was more interesting than the sight of the woman going down on him. George couldn’t look away.

After just a moment, as if sensing he was being watched, Nico glanced over at George and their eyes met. They were sitting so close together on his bed that it almost felt like their noses were about to touch. A sly smirk grazed Nico’s face, his blue eyes flicking between George’s own and his lips parted in near-wonder as he stared right back. A certain motion from the woman between his legs had Nico’s eyebrows furrowing for a split second and his breath inhaling, all without taking his eyes away from George.

“Like what you see, George?” Nico taunted, his voice a little breathless, the slight hint of an accent that embraced his words feeling a little thicker.

George licked his lips, his hand still working beneath the confines of his underwear as he firmly kept Nico’s unwavering gaze. Distracted by their eye contact, George didn’t even realize that his touch on himself started to grow a fraction more insistent.

“Yeah,” George replied in a breath, his chest feeling tight from how hard his heart was pounding, “Very much so.”

“Yeah?” Nico played some more. His eyes dropped down George’s lean and fit torso to the moving lump under the front of his underwear where his hand was moving around his cock. Nico, more sure of himself at thirty-one than George still was at twenty-six, reached out to grasp George’s wrist and pull his hand out, “So come participate. Never took you to be just a spectator.”

“I didn’t want to interrupt.” George protested meekly.

“What if I want you to interrupt?” Nico challenged.

The two men stared at each other for a moment, the only sounds in the room being their rhythmic breaths and the lewd noise of the woman’s mouth still working lazily around Nico’s dick. The tension was crawling up George’s spine and wrapping itself around his throat. He felt sick with anticipation.

Before he could make any move, Nico was sliding his hand around the back of George’s neck and grabbing firmly. It was a move he often did after races, a moment to pull their helmets together for a head bump in shared congratulations behind the noise of parc fermé, but here, now, it held so much more behind it. His slender fingers curled into the roots of George’s brunette waves, giving him a little tug at the nape of his neck to pull him closer. George couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped from his throat.

Their noses bumped first and George sucked in a breath, his wide eyes still boring into Nico’s half-lidded ones no matter how much he was turned on at that moment. He could feel Nico’s ragged breaths against his cheek and it had him habitually licking his lips once more, wetting them, mind whirling over what this night was going to progress into.

Then, in a moment equally fleeting and painfully long, Nico pushed his lips onto George’s.

The first kiss was messy and off-centre, earning more skin than lips to meet, but it was immediately followed by a second where Nico took the lead and slotted their lips together properly. George initially tensed, inhaling sharply into their motionless kiss and freezing in place. But, when Nico went to pull away, George all but lunged forward, grabbing the back of his teammate’s neck in return and yanking him back into a heated kiss.

Nico groaned lowly into it as they shared slow, sloppy, tentative kisses, hands grasping onto backs of necks and skin feeling hot to touch. As their heads tilted to deepen their kiss, George slid his hand down Nico’s chest, resting it over his pecs and feeling each rise and fall of his every breath. George’s mind was whirling, and yet, at the same time, felt like it was filled with nothing but static. Was this really happening? He would pinch himself but, fuck, he really didn’t want to risk waking up.

“Holy shit.”

The pleasured groan from farther down the bed had George realizing that he had almost completely forgotten that his gorgeous grid girl was even present. She had her hand still lazily stroking Nico with her wide, amused eyes staring up at the both of them with her bottom lip between her teeth. There was a certain twinkle in her eye that betrayed just how much she was into the unexpected sight before her.

“Don’t let me stop you.” she all but purred, reaching up with her other hand to tug at the waistband of George’s underwear.

He took her prompt without question and lifted his hips to shove his underwear down, leaving him just as bare as Nico, and then her hand went to his hard cock too, having them each in her grasp to pleasure them simultaneously. George shuddered both at her touch and the obvious fire behind Nico’s gaze directed right down to his groin.

Nico let out a playful wolf-whistle, “Impressive, Georgie.”

George could feel the blush trailing down his neck and over his collarbones, flushed from lust and from the unexpected praise and attention from his teammate. He shifted in place and grasped the side of Nico’s neck as he leaned in to start to kiss at his neck with a small whine. George’s legs fell open a little more, hips nudging up against the hand of the beautiful woman who was currently giving him a lazy handjob, all without stopping his ministrations along the column of Nico’s neck.

“That’s more like it.” Nico exhaled, almost a hint of pride in his voice, and he draped an arm around George’s shoulders to keep him close, succumbing to the sensations of the younger man’s lips on his neck. George could feel his eyes on him, how he stared at him as the woman tended to him in generous strokes. When she finally took George’s dick in her mouth, he pulled away from Nico’s neck with a tight gasp.

“Fuck.” George hissed, glancing down at her as she batted her lashes back up at him from between his lazily parted thighs.

He was nearly leaning entirely on Nico at that point, draped naked on the bed with his head resting on his teammate's shoulder, feeling the warmth of his bicep against his shoulder blade. It was as if any care or concern had dissipated in George’s mind—the presence of lust had a way of doing that. Shamelessly horny, he let his body mould with that of the man beside him as he succumbed to the warm, wet confines of the gorgeous woman’s mouth on him. Sure, it wasn’t the most mind-blowing head he had ever received but there was something about that situation as a whole that made George’s nerve endings tingle.

She shared the both of them, going back and forth to tend to each of them one at a time, making sure to keep the other nicely stimulated with her hand when it wasn’t their turn to take up her mouth. The men lounged together in naked bliss as they watched her, and George caught himself often glancing to his right just to stare at Nico just a little more. In the last six years that George had been in Formula 1, never had he experienced teammate bonding quite like this.

George couldn’t help himself as the magnetic pull in his chest urged him closer and he pressed a kiss to the corner of Nico’s mouth. The elder turned his face towards his younger counterpart, smiling that cocky handsome grin of his, before leaning in to meet him halfway for another proper tongue-led kiss. It stirred a feeling of unexplainable desire in George’s stomach, a thirst that felt far more quenchable now than it had in years prior when he had been smothering any fleeting concept of this that might have crossed his mind. Everything—Nico—was once so unattainable. Now, everything felt within his reach.

George’s cheek sizzled where Nico pressed the pad of his thumb, forcing his mouth open a little wider to push in his tongue. Like putty, George melted, parting his lips and accepting the invasion as he raised a hand to grasp the back of Nico’s neck and hold his mouth on his. There was a roughness to the way Nico kissed; like even this was a competition. On the track, George might have been his fiercest competitor, but, here, now, all he could do was fold under Nico’s assertive dominance.

After a moment, when they pulled apart to breathe, there was a string of spit connecting their lips and it broke, dripping down George’s chin. His wide eyes were all over the face of his mentor, trying to gauge his reaction or perhaps receive any hints of guidance as to what to do next. Nico smeared the slick of spit across George’s swollen bottom lip with the pad of his thumb before squeezing the younger man’s chiseled face between thumb and fingers, pinching his cheeks as he admired him.

“You’ve always been such a pretty boy.” Nico all but purred.

George felt his cock twitch in the firm grasp of the woman laying between his legs. Her soft giggle in awareness floated in the air of the bedroom.

And then, much to Nico’s pleasant surprise—and, in all honesty, surprise of George, himself—the younger man was shifting in place in a fit of bravery and then leaning himself over his mentor’s lap. The woman still held her hand around the shaft of Nico’s cock, watching in awe as George tentatively licked up the side of it and then wrapped his spitty lips around the head.

His heart in his throat, George had the sudden realization that he had never sucked a dick before or, rather, gotten anywhere as close to one as he was in that moment. Suddenly he was just there with his lips wrapped stupidly around the head of Nico’s cock and not knowing what the fuck to do next. What had he gotten himself into? He was in far too deep now.

The feeling of Nico’s fingers pushing through the roots of George’s hair had the tension in his body relaxing slightly, melting downwards into the mattress and over Nico’s thigh and, ultimately, causing his mouth to move deeper. With a gentle voice laced in pleasure, words chosen as if he knew just what to say, Nico spoke to him, “That’s it, Georgie. Give it to me how you like to receive it.”

The woman was still nestled between Nico’s thighs, her hand still holding his dick upwards for George’s mouth to sink further down on. With a giddy grin, she encouraged, “That’s so hot.”

George withered, letting out a faint moan with his mouth full of dick. Strangely, it was intensely arousing, as much as he might have hated to admit it. Sure, he liked pleasuring his partners but up until that point, it had only ever been women—never having even thought about how sucking dick could get him just as turned on. But, here he was, mouth fucking salivating, and almost instinctively finding a pace to start to bob his mouth around Nico-freaking-Rosberg’s cock like he couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

Nico still had his hand carding through George’s hair, petting him, applying just a little pressure to the back of his head as if to guide him downwards. George could feel his eyes on him, watching his every ungraceful move, likely seeing how unimpressive he was being, hardly able to take much of him in his mouth at all.

But then, Nico breathed out an almost dreamy, “Fuck, George…that’s a good boy…I know you can go deeper.”

Good boy.

Nico praised him in that same tone he used when they were in training sessions together—so kind and genuine and friendly—something so warm that made George just trust him from their first week of mentorship. That voice that pushed George to challenge himself, to lift more, run faster, push harder…anything to earn more of that professional praise from his mentor. That’s all it was, wasn’t it? Professional?

George’s entire body shuddered at his words and his hand reached over to hold Nico still, taking over from the woman. He tried to push himself deeper, gagging around him wetly as a result. Nico groaned tightly, his hips trying to nudge up into his mouth at the restriction.

“Loosen your throat and relax your jaw,” the beautiful woman instructed George softly, setting her fingers against his jaw to help him, “breathe through your nose…there you go.”

George whimpered and gurgled around Nico’s dick as it took up his mouth. It certainly didn’t feel average anymore with the way his jaw was already starting to cramp up from the unfamiliar motions. After a second, he had to pull back to breathe.

He stared down at the swollen red cock in his hand, glistened in spit and precum, easily slicking up George’s hand as he started to stroke it like he would his own. The pretty sounds that came from Nico’s throat spurred him on to keep that pace going, soft breaths and handsome moans that went right to his dick.

George was very aware of his gorgeous grid girl sharing the moment from beside him, guiding him without judgement. He couldn’t help but be drawn closer to her, too, emotionally and physically, as he leaned in to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She kissed him back without question, hands sliding over his broad bare shoulders as her tongue slipped past the seam of his lips and, at the same time, George kept his hand tending to Nico’s dick in firm strokes.

Almost as if sharing the same mind, she and George ended up moving downwards together and, as he took Nico back in his mouth, she leaned in to drag her tongue over his balls and along the base of his dick. George moved his hand away and, instead, set it over Nico’s abs, feeling the taut muscle there and the steady rhythm of his every jagged breath, giving them room to use nothing but their mouths on the World Champion.

“Jesus Christ,” Nico cursed through his teeth, staring down at his body as the two of them shared the responsibility of sucking him off.

Their tongues clashed as they licked up and down the sides of his cock, taking turns to take him in their mouths for proper suction. George could feel himself getting sloppier as the seconds passed, as if his rising lust was making him impatient for something more. He was always a competitive soul—perhaps it was a requirement to be a Formula 1 driver—and so soon he was wrapping his hand around Nico’s cock and guiding it away from the woman’s mouth just so he could have his turn again, determined to deliver the best results he could.

For a split second, as his throat struggled to accommodate the unfamiliar invasion so much so that his eyes were burning with tears, George swore he might entirely throw up. He tried to relax, easing himself down more with a gentle shake of his head, until, finally, his nose brushed the coarse trimmed hair that lined Nico’s pelvis. Nico tossed his back against the pillows and headboard with a stiff groan, his fingers flexing into George’s brunette waves with a tight tug of pleasure, holding him right down on him for a moment longer, just to feel the way George’s throat constricted around him.

“Fuck—” Nico dragged out the vowel before releasing George’s hair.

George sat back with a heave of air, coughing wetly and dribbling spit down his chin as tears streaked across his flushed cheeks. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, coughing out a raspy, “Blimey—”

The woman beside him smiled sweetly and leaned in to kiss up his neck rewardingly, nipping at his earlobe with a playful coo, “Baby’s first deepthroat.”

The men chuckled lightly at her statement, George’s face a flushed pink and his expression already looking entirely fucked out and not much had even happened just yet. But, before George could even get his wits about him, Nico was shifting on the bed and gently guiding George to take his place. They swapped positions in silent agreement and George flopped backwards on the expensive mattress and down-filled pillows with a panted breath, staring up wide-eyed as Nico took control.

“Think our boy deserves a reward for that.” Nico said, half to the woman with him and half to no one in particular.

“He definitely does.” she agreed with a smile, adjusting herself on the large bed so she was draped out beside George’s lanky body. Her hand immediately took to his chest in playful caresses that rose goosebumps under her touch.

George might have looked at her in that moment in any other instance, but with Nico clearly having a plan in mind, he couldn’t look away from him. Especially not when his teammate was guiding his legs farther apart so he could situated himself between them and lean down to kiss his thighs.

George inhaled tightly, arms draped lazily beside his head with his fingers curling into the pillowcase absentmindedly. He stared down at the way Nico’s soft lips pressed open mouthed kisses up his inner thigh—tender, patient—like he was something more than just that lanky, awkward, big-eyed kid with the shit haircut that Nico took under his wing six years ago. George’s mind swirled through every excuse in the book as to why Nico wouldn’t want him like this and on the contrary, why, it seemed, he so suddenly did.

The beautiful woman shared in the joy of kissing over George’s smooth skin, trailing kisses over his collarbones and shoulder and up the column of his neck. With all this attention, George was squirming. Nico tightened his grip on George’s thighs, holding him still so he could continue the ministrations of his lips without interruption, trailing higher and higher and higher. From the teasing alone, the anticipation, and the unfamiliar scratch of Nico’s stubble against his skin, George felt his cock twitch.

“Want it that bad, hm?” Nico teased lowly, his hot breath falling against the supple skin of George’s inner thighs.

George could only let out a small whine, almost entirely involuntary. His cheeks flushed pink at the sound that came out of him and his fingers clutched the pillowcase on either side of his head, trying to ground himself to keep from embarrassing himself in front of Nico. He had always been so concerned with what Nico thought of him but as he laid there, naked and waiting underneath him, he started to realize that Nico really looked like he wanted to be nowhere else but right there.

With a firm hand, Nico wrapped his fingers around the thick shaft of George’s cock and lifted it up and away from where it had been resting against his pelvis. Even from only that miniscule touch, George’s eyelashes fluttered as the heat of it shot up his spine and he pressed his teeth tightly into his bottom lip. From his throat came a tight, “Mm—”

Nico shined a handsome smile up at him as his hand slowly started to move in testing strokes, gliding along with the foreskin that hugged his cock, pulling downwards to reveal the swollen pink head. George’s breath caught in his throat and his eyebrows raised almost clean off his head, staring down wide-eyed at the very real visual of his own damn teammate touching him so sensually.

From beside him, George was aware of the girl beside him as she kissed his neck and her slim fingers rubbed over his nipples, grounding him in the familiarity of female companionship in this sea of uncharted territory. He felt like he was tingling all over from the way she played with his sensitive nipples to the lazy strokes of Nico’s ridiculously soft hand on his dick, his body thrumming with need and pleasure.

When Nico finally lowered his head down and dragged his flat tongue up the underside of his cock, George’s head fell dully against the pillow with a silent gape to the ceiling. And then, when Nico wrapped his lips around him entirely, George’s eyes quite literally rolled, head arching back a little more with his fingers tightening around the fabric of the pillow case.

The faint rumble of George’s chest could be felt under the woman’s lips as she kissed across his pecs and she smiled against his flushed skin, her voice as soft as velvet, “Does that feel good?”

George swallowed thickly as he heaved his head up from the pillow to look down at Nico between his legs, his expression settled in a permanent state of pleasured surprise as he watched his teammate set a gentle pace around his cock. When Nico raised his eyes upwards, meeting George’s gaze with those sea-blue eyes he had grown all too familiar with over the years, George withered. With a breathy whine, he answered the woman, “Ye-ah-”

The slight suction of Nico’s mouth had George’s response breaking in the middle into a gasp. His toes curled. It definitely wasn’t George’s first blowjob—not by a longshot, really—but something about watching Nico be the one to go down on him like that (with impressive skill, might he add) after so long of smothering any and all potential to the back of his mind had George really feeling like this was the best thing ever.

The woman’s tongue lapped at George’s nipples while her fingers toyed with them in precise rubs. All the points of stimulation on his body were ablaze and George felt drunk and he hadn't even finished the one cocktail Nico had made him earlier.

Once he settled into the feeling of Nico sucking him off, George rested his head back on the pillow with pleasured pants of breath and he slid a hand up the gorgeous woman’s spine and then guided her mouth to his by the back of her neck. They kissed sloppily and he fed her his sweet moans by the grace of his tongue, fisting the roots of her hair at the nape of her neck as if he needed something to hold onto.

With one particularly delicious suction from the mouth on his cock, George flew a hand down to grab a fistful of the blonde hair nestled between his quivering thighs. Nico groaned around his dick at the faint pull of his hair as if in surprise but he didn’t let up, keeping his hand moving in those idyllic twisting strokes while his mouth followed the rhythm, making sure to hollow his cheeks every time he pulled upwards.

George had to pull away from her mouth to heave in some air into his lungs, his breaths falling ragged as he felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in the pit of his stomach. Her forehead rested against his temple as her fingers played with his sensitive nipples, her voice angelic as she whispered filthy words to him to egg him on while Nico worked his magic.

“You like watching the World Champion sucking your cock?” she whispered against the shell of his ear, sending shivers down his spine, “Making you such a pretty mess, hm? You’d let him do anything to you, wouldn’t you?”

George couldn’t help the ever so discreet nod in silent response. His cheeks burned crimson at the realization of what he had just admitted. She smiled, half proud and half sly, but didn’t draw attention to it.

With one hand lazily resting between her shoulder blades and his other burrowed in Nico’s hair, George was sandwiched between the two most gorgeous people he had ever seen, he was sure. The lewd wet sound of Nico’s mouth gagging around him had George’s eyes struggling to stay open, his expression nothing short of erotic as he watched his newly World Champion mentor taking his whole fucking dick down his throat like it was his day job. George swore stars were spotting his vision.

He could feel his orgasm approaching, rising and rising to that precipice. He tightened his fingers in Nico’s hair, desperate to keep him going, so badly wanting to come in the warm, wet confines of his perfect fucking mouth—

And then, all at once, Nico pulled away and George was left with that rapidly fading feeling and a heaviness of disappointment.

“Nico,” George huffed, his voice thick and whiny in frustration, dragging out his name just a little longer than normal.

“Come on, we’re just getting started.” Nico replied playfully, politely wiping his mouth with the side of his forefinger and thumb as he sat back on his haunches, “Don’t want to come before you get to really enjoy yourself, do you?”

Although George partially wanted to protest, he knew he was right. He kept his mouth shut.

Nico cocked his head at the woman still curled up at George’s side, “C’mere, baby, your turn now.”

George watched as she untangled herself from under his arm and shifted to where she was directed, draping herself out on the spacious king size bed. Watching her move like that, flushed with arousal and donning only her skimpy panties, George couldn’t help but be drawn after her, following her into a new position and helping himself between her legs. She giggled sweetly up at him as he linked his fingers in the sides of her underwear and started to pull them down her legs and he couldn’t help but smile right back.

This was the gorgeous young woman he had been silently eyeing all season, desperately trying not to let the sight of her holding his name at the front of his car distract him from his race preparations. Now—although faster than he had anticipated—he had her in bed and he wasn’t about to let any opportunity pass him by. That was not what that night was about, after all.

George could feel how achingly hard he was, throbbing between his legs, made only worse by the generous attention from Nico moments earlier, but he stayed focused on his task at hand. With the woman’s panties dropped to the floor, George gently pushed her thighs apart and leaned down to kiss the inside of her knee. He tried to take his time but who could blame him for ending up almost rushing to trail kisses down her inner thigh. It was as if he could smell her, the natural pheromones luring him closer to her cunt until his nose was brushing against her clit and his tongue dropped out for a taste.

The sweet sound that slipped from her lips made him shiver and his arms went around her thighs to hold her on his mouth as he tongued lazily at her cunt. George had always been perfectly happy giving just as much as he enjoyed receiving and, in that moment, it was shown as clear as day across his face as his eyes fluttered shut with a pleased moan.

“Fuck—” she gasped to the ceiling, her fingers threading through his tousled hair in a snug grip.

She tasted as good as he had imagined on those lonely nights in hotel rooms and as his tongue worked her greedily, he couldn’t help but grind against the mattress with a muffled groan. Her hips pushed up against his mouth for more and he dragged his tongue up to her clit to kiss and lick and suck on it just to earn the prideful sight of her back arching off the bed with a mewl of pleasure.

The noise of foil tearing had George momentarily pulling away from her pussy, his lips and chin shimmering from how wet she was, and he glanced over curiously to where Nico was pulling out a condom from its wrapper. Nico shuffled closer to the pair of them and, much to George’s surprise, gave him a small spank to get him to move out of the way.

She must have seen George’s displeased expression at being interrupted because then the woman was offering him a curl of her finger and a sweet, “Come up here.”

He shifted out from between her legs to let Nico take his spot and he moved up her body, following her guidance to straddle her head. George’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip at the positioning but there was a twinkle in her eye that gave away her own sureness while her warm hands slid up his tone thighs and then wrapped around his throbbing cock.

She started stroking him in both hands, staring at his dick angled right towards her face as she spoke casually, “You’re really good at eating pussy, you know that?”

George chuckled modestly, “You think so?”

“Mm, mhm.” she nodded in passive agreement before guiding his dick in her mouth.

George withered and tilted his head back as he pushed a hand through his hair to get it out of his face before he was looking back down at her and the way her lips were wrapped so perfectly around the girth of his cock. His lips pulled into a tight line behind a stiff groan and his hips pushed a little towards her face to sink deeper into her mouth.

“Ready?” Nico’s voice came from farther down the bed.

“Mhm.” she answered around George’s dick.

When George glanced over his shoulder to watch, he noted the way she spread her legs wider and bent them back to encourage Nico closer. He had put on the condom by then, one hand grounding himself with a gentle hold on one of her ankles while his other slid the protected head of his cock between her slick folds. There was some strange heart stirring in George’s chest at the sight of Nico slowly pressing into her, the combination of their initial sighs and gasps at the sensation. He wasn’t sure if it was lust or jealousy…maybe an evil combination of the two. In the back of his mind, he wasn’t sure which individual he was jealous of in that moment.

He looked back down to the woman splayed out across the bed, taking in her furrowed expression of pleasure behind his dick in her mouth. Her sucking was languid now with her focus divided between him and the fact that she was now getting fucked. George nudged his hips forward again to encourage her silently, thrusting into her mouth just enough to earn a slutty whine from her.

“Shit,” Nico groaned from behind him, more to himself than anyone, and yet the tight hints of ecstasy in his voice sent a shiver down George’s spine, “that’s so fuckin’ good…”

She moaned around George’s dick, her hands grabbing at his thighs as they framed her head as her mouth tended to him sloppily. He tried to focus on her with one hand on his waist as he lazily trusted her mouth, shuddering at the feeling of the ridges on the roof of her mouth against the sensitive head of his cock and the way she moaned and whined around him. But, despite it all, George kept catching himself glancing over his shoulder to where Nico was.

The faint creak of the bed beneath Nico’s every firm thrust from behind him had George’s mind wandering to thoughts he had always been so good at repressing. He couldn’t stop staring at him, almost getting a kink in his neck with how much he was trying to contort himself.

Only seconds later, the tap on his thigh had George looking back down to the woman beneath him and she ordered with a gentle, “Turn around.”

George didn’t question it before he moved off of her and turned around to face Nico instead and she guided his leg back over her face to take his dick back in her mouth. George flinched at the sensation, settling into his place there as he appreciated his new view of Nico grasping onto her thighs and fucking her strongly. Nico sent him a sly smirk and perhaps there was a hint of a wink there too.

Not wanting to crush the poor woman entirely, George adjusted himself on top of her and settled forward onto his forearms on either side of her body, allowing her to keep his cock in her mouth as she pleased and earned him a front row view to the man of the year being balls deep inside her. George’s fingers grasped onto the duvet beneath them as his eyes trained in on the steady thrusts of Nico fucking into her sopping cunt and pulling back out in rapid succession. The lewd sound had his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, insides burning at the rhythmic pants of his teammate that were now more than just from a good workout.

Nico carded his fingers through George’s hair with a warm, tight chuckle, “You like watching, don’t ya, Georgie?”

The slight condescending tone in his voice had George’s stomach churning with lust and his eyes flitted up to Nico’s face who was already staring down at him intently. There was a slight darkness to his eyes that came with the onset of lust and it was an expression that George had to look away from due to the intensity behind it.

In silent reply—and, also, wanting to participate—George lifted a hand up to glide his fingers through the coarse trimmed hair along the gorgeous woman’s pelvis and let his fingertips graze her swollen clit. She gasped around his dick and George took that as incentive to start to rub at it properly, finding a pace of firm, tight circles that had her hands tightening on his thighs on either side of her head.

“Yeah…good boy,” Nico purred breathily, fingers still tightly wound in George’s hair.

“Christ,” George groaned through a lick of his lips, watching him fuck her so deliciously behind his fingers working sloppily on her clit.

“Hear how wet she is?” Nico asked.

It was easy to, really. George had been in a haze at the rhythmic sound of her sopping cunt taking his every thrust greedily, filling the bedroom with it. George slid his fingers lower to spread her lips apart to watch every inch of Nico’s dick filling her up snugly before pulling out only halfway and plenty smeared in her arousal. She made the prettiest sounds too and George at least had the privilege to feel the vibration of each around his dick in her mouth, but, selfishly, he just wanted more. He wanted a turn…with either of them, honestly.

Just then, almost like he could read George’s mind, Nico pulled out of her. He was so hard that when he did, his cock bobbed lazily in the air for a moment, right in George’s face, the condom glistening in the bedroom light. Always such a good teammate, George knew what he wanted without needing to be asked and he leaned right in and wrapped his mouth around it. Nico’s hand tightened in his hair and he let out a rumbling groan as George sucked him clean, seemingly unbothered by the taste of latex that lingered under the sweet taste of her creamy wetness.

“Who knew you were such a slut, George.” Nico chuckled, low and rumbling in his chest, eyes watching him suck him clean, “I mean, fuck, I knew you were a bit of a flirt but, mmph—”

George didn’t speak to how his teammate’s words sent fire through his veins. Instead, he let him pull his mouth off with his fist in his hair and Nico then slapped the head of his cock against George’s lips and tongue. George tried not to writhe behind the lewd action, still aware of the girl he was on top of who was swallowing down his dick eagerly.

He choked out a messy groan, eyelashes fluttering as he glanced up at Nico kneeling before him.

“Wish I knew you were into this sooner,” Nico purred as he smeared the protected head of his dick across George’s swollen bottom lip, “we coulda had a lot more fun as teammates.”

George didn’t have a moment to properly linger and process on what the fuck he meant by that before they were, yet again, switching positions. He somehow ended up with a box of condoms in his hand, having taken Nico’s place between the woman’s spread thighs. She was touching herself lazily, modestly manicured fingers swirling over her clit and messy pussy, batting her lashes up at him with that sweet smile he had grown so fond of over the season.

Nico was behind him, watching like a true and honest mentor, his hands resting on George’s waist and his lips trailing lazy kisses up the side of his neck. It made it extremely hard to focus on rolling the condom on, George discovered, but soon the wrapper was discarded to the side and he was shuffling closer to his beautiful grid girl.

He leaned down over top of her, sinking onto his forearms on either side of her head with her legs hooked around his thighs. They shared whispered giggling ‘hi’s in their newfound intimate proximity just before their lips met in a slow, sensual kiss. George ground against her a little, letting the length of his erection glide between her slick lips a few times, the both of them sharing soft pleasure breaths of anticipation.

And then he was sinking inside her entirely, slowly, patiently, making sure to draw the moment on so they could both feel every inch stretching her out. Her hands grasped onto his shoulder blades with a tight gasp into his mouth, skin slick and flush with sheens of rising sweat. George blinked a few times languidly to catch his bearings as he sheathed entirely inside her snug body.

Suddenly he couldn’t recall the last time he had a proper lay; the last time he had time or energy to properly take some girl back to his hotel room and fuck her emotionlessly into the sheets between the hazy lines of NDAs. Maybe it had been a while…maybe his mind had been too preoccupied.

Preoccupied with the woman now beneath him, staring up at him with the sweetest pleasure across her face, and preoccupied with the man situated behind him with his firm hands groping his ass. Nico gave him a spank. George hissed at the sting.

“C’mon, Georgie,” Nico taunted, “Fuck her good now.”

George slowly started to move, easing out of her about halfway before sinking back in entirely. The soft, pleasant hum she let out went right down his spine.

“Christ…” George muttered under his breath, words wavering with the overwhelming sensation of her pussy squeezing around him in all the right ways. His nose brushed against hers as their breaths fell in sync and she turned her face to his to capture his lips with hers in a sloppy kiss. He groaned into her mouth as he set a gentle pace, grinding deeply into her in curling thrusts that had her toes curling.

“That’s it…” Nico praised lowly from behind him. He followed George’s movements by a hand on his ass as if guiding him, feeling every tension and release of his muscles as he thrusted into the beautiful woman beneath him.

George shivered at the feeling of Nico’s lips on his spine but he didn’t let up, keeping himself busy with the woman he was fucking so deliciously. Nico kissed along the dimples in his lower back and his strong hands kneaded the flesh of his ass at the same time. When his lips pulled away, he gave his bum a sharp spank.

“Mmph—” George muffled in surprise at the sting, right into her mouth.

The woman giggled sweetly and ghosted her fingernails up and down his sides, touching him all over, adding to the sensations of the situation. Nico leaned down farther, his plush lips kissing the base of George’s spine and, finally, over the flesh of his ass. With a gentle, testing bite, Nico chuckled lowly at the way George flinched.

Nico pulled back again and went back to the massage of his hands over his glutes, squeezing and rubbing as George kept lazily rocking into the woman beneath him. With a hum of approval, Nico spoke, “Those gym sessions really pay off for you, George. I mean, fuck.”

“Mm, just wanna impress you,” George rambled without thinking of the implications of what he was saying. He meant it as in Nico was his professional mentor, okay? Seriously, he did.

Nico chuckled, “Well, consider me greatly impressed.”

The woman’s hands slid up the side of George’s neck as they gazed into each other’s eyes, pupils dilated with lust with every lazy stroke he gave her. She pulled her legs back a little more to allow him closer, making sure he was giving her every last inch in beautiful precise thrusts that had her mouth falling open in a silent gasp. God, she looked just as beautiful getting fucked as he had always imagined. He couldn’t stop staring at her.

He couldn’t stop staring at her even as Nico kept groping the flesh of his ass and kissing and biting over his hips and glutes. With one hand, Nico reached between George’s legs and gently squeezed his balls, urging a low groan of pleasant surprise out of the younger man whose hips jumped a little into their next stroke. George faltered a moment, unfamiliar with the situation, but Nico just encouraged him on with an angelic praise.

“Keep going, baby.”

George’s insides churned at the pet name, succumbing to its order without thought, and he went back to those slow but sure thrusts into the beautiful woman’s pliant body.

Nico spoke from behind him like he was the angel or devil on his shoulder with one hand gently fondling his balls, “Good boy. That’s it.”

George leaned down again to steal more kisses from the woman beneath him, letting his tongue explore her mouth with filthy bliss as they shared pleasured breaths. He was all too aware of Nico behind him, left in the darkness of his peripheral vision to really see what he was plotting. It didn’t take him long to figure it out, however, because not long after Nico removed his hand, he was, instead, spreading George’s cheeks and leaning down to kiss wetly right over his perineum.

The little breathy whimper that slipped from George’s mouth was almost entirely involuntary, breaking away from the woman’s kiss with a flutter of his lashes at the surprise of the sensation.

Staring up at his expression, she smiled, “Oh wow, yeah, you like that, don’t you, baby?”

Nico chuckled lowly from behind him as George entirely stilled, all of his senses turning towards him, waiting for more. He complied, leaning down again to, now, drag his tongue right up between his cheeks, once, twice, and then left a wet kiss right over his asshole.

George kept the unwavering eye contact of the woman beneath him, his expression frozen in surprise but not distaste either as if he were silently gauging how he felt about the situation at hand. He could feel the faint stubble of Nico’s trimmed facial hair against the supple skin of his ass, nestled between his cheeks that were spread by his teammate’s firm hands. George squirmed a little and, shamelessly, found himself pushing back on his mouth.

“Mhm,” Nico mumbled against him in a muted praise, tongue lapping at him purposefully.

His warm breath fell in soft pants against George’s skin, the younger man so attuned to every sensation that even the slightest touch had him shuddering. The woman beneath him dragged her fingertips up his biceps and back down as his arms framed her head, her siren-eyes staring up at him and every flutter of expression that grazed his face.

“Yeah, does that feel good?” she taunted sweetly, her manicured fingernails rising goosebumps over his arms, “Never had someone eat you out before, have you?”

“Jesus—” George choked out. That was answer enough.

His mouth fell slack as Nico pressed the tip of his tongue firmly against the puckered muscle and teased him with precise swirls. A small gasp slipped from George’s throat and he caught himself pushing back a little more. Nico moaned against him at his eagerness, the vibration making George whither.

“You’re so lucky,” the woman purred up to George, her well-crafted words spurring him on, “getting rimmed while being nestled in a warm, tight pussy. Best of both worlds, isn’t it, love?”

George groaned in response, as if his mind was so overwhelmed that all words just left his brain entirely, and the reminder of his current positioning had his hips nudging forwards into her some more. She let out a tiny moan in surprise, fingers curling around his biceps as he ground into her, finding a shallow pace that allowed him to keep grinding into her while also grinding back on Nico’s mouth. He felt like he was dreaming.

From behind him, Nico shook his head just a little to really nestle himself between George’s cheeks while his tongue and lips moving in a lewd sloppy dance. He was taking his time with it, working him into it, taking breaks from tonguing at his asshole to kiss and tease his cheeks and his perineum and even down to his balls. It wasn’t long before George’s body was relaxing under his touch and he could see him starting to open up just a little.

“Look at you, pretty boy,” Nico commended, pausing just long enough to spit right onto the tight rim of muscle and let his middle finger smear it in, “so ready and wanting.”

George panted out a, “Please.”

“Yeah?” Nico taunted, gently prodding at his asshole with the tip of his middle finger and letting it slip inside just to the first knuckle. His voice was honey sweet and laced with a hint of deriding that, on the receiving end, made rouge blossom across George’s cheeks, “Yeah, you want more, baby?”

George almost didn’t recognize his voice at how whiny and pathetic he sounded when he repeated his stupid little, “Please.”

“Such good manners.” the woman beneath him tutted.

She was so patient, George thought for a moment as he stared down at her and was lost in the comfort of her gaze. So patient to lay there, filled with him, while he was simply unmoving. Not even looking bored by it, she genuinely looked as though she were enjoying herself. In the intensity of the moment, George made a mental note to put a fucking ring on her finger.

Perhaps in his momentary distraction with the gorgeous woman staring up at him and his chaotic thoughts clouding his mind, he hadn’t noticed when Nico had retrieved a bottle of lube. The sudden pop of the lid tore him back to reality. He tried to look over his shoulder.

“This okay?” Nico asked, the lust in his voice momentarily replaced with that same serious and concerned tone he used when he was first leading George through a few beginner training sessions in that first year. Nothing like this.

“Yeah,” George replied in a breath, “I want it.”

The sudden drip of ice cold lube between his ass cheeks had George gasping tightly. Nico hushed him sweetly and his warm fingers followed, rubbing it in generously over his tight rim of muscle before prodding at it again. His middle finger found its way back inside him, easing down to the second knuckle before slipping back out a little.

Nico took his time, easing him open one finger at a time, relaxing him with kisses over the base of his spine and his hips and his thighs. George felt nearly boneless, and he was sure if he were in a cartoon, little birds and stars would be floating around his head. He slumped down onto his forearms on either side of the beautiful woman’s head and they both leaned in for a sloppy kiss at the same time.

Almost subconsciously, George started to grind his hips into her and, equally, back on Nico’s hand. Always having been a giver, he was finding his rhythm in what it entailed to be a receiver at the same time. And, God, had he not anticipated how good it would feel to have someone’s fingers up his ass; to have Nico’s fingers up his ass.

George moaned into her mouth, his fingers tangling in the messy locks of her hair that was draped out around her head as he had her pinned to the bed. Her dainty hands reached down to grab two snug fistfulls of his ass, keeping him spread for Nico’s fingers and to, also, guide his grinds into her as he pushed his cock deeper. His spread knees kept her legs splayed open on either side of his body, helping to keep him in perfect position with his hips up to welcome Nico’s fingers while his lips and tongue stayed tangled with hers.

From behind him, Nico was three fingers deep in George’s ass, slicked up heartily in lube until it was nearly dripping down his hand as he set a steady rhythm. The wet squelch of his fingers thrusting gently inside him filled the bedroom behind the trio’s panted breaths and soft moans and, with an attentive eye, Nico was laser focused on the way George was squeezing around his fingers. He was so easy to stretch open, so relaxed and trusting, falling so effortlessly into submission for someone who had no experience.

Nico leaned down and let his tongue join his fingers, just to give him a little treat of added stimulation, and his free hand rested overtop of the woman’s on George’s cheek in an absentminded action. George pushed back on Nico’s mouth more insistently, gasping and groaning into his kiss as his body ached for more. Between the touch of his teammate and the tight squeeze of that perfect pussy around his dick, he was nearly going insane.

As if reading his mind, Nico adjusted his position behind him, rising up properly on his knees between George’s legs, and he pulled his fingers out of him slowly. George whined at the sudden emptiness, breaking his kiss to try to look back at him over his shoulder with a kiss-swollen pout.

“Hang on, Georgie,” Nico all but purred, popping the cap on the bottle of lube again, with a tension in his voice as if he, too, were being held back.

The woman beneath him gave George’s ass a smack and he turned his face back towards her with a surprised gasp. Her feet were linked over his thighs and she pushed her hips up to meet his, trying to get him to go back to fucking her while Nico got himself ready. George dipped down to lick his way into her mouth again and complied, giving her a few hard shoves that had her jaw falling slack despite the pleasured expression on her face.

Nico spanked him weakly to get him to stop a few seconds later and, obediently, George pushed his ass back towards him as if presenting himself. Honestly, he wasn’t sure where half of these moves came from or where he learned them; it was as if his body and mind were working on some subconscious, instinctual level. It was fine, he was too horny to be embarrassed.

“Such a good boy,” Nico breathed, situating himself right up behind him and he dragged the protected head of his cock between George’s cheeks, “You still want this?”

“Yeah…” George exhaled, feeling like he had tv static in his brain, he was chalked so full of anticipation, “Just go slow.”

“Of course,” Nico rested his left hand on the small of his back while his other angled himself to press against his hole, “you know I’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you, Georgie.”

“Mm…” George bit his bottom lip.

The woman beneath him still held two hands on his ass to keep him open, staring up at him with comfort in her gaze. She spoke to him in a smiling whisper, “Deep breaths…just relax…it’s gonna feel so fucking good.”

“Mhm,” Nico agreed as he slowly started to press himself into him, “you’re nice and prepped too…all lubed up and everything…”

George’s fingers tightened around the bedsheets and at first he swore he was about to claw up the bed at the pressure that filled him, inch by steady inch. It was the strangest sensation he could ever attempt at describing. It wasn’t necessarily painful but it sure was unlike anything else he could ever think of comparing it to. His eyelids fluttered and he let out a short, shaky breath.

“There you go…” his sweet grid girl praised under her breath, “Nice and easy…”

Nico’s hands gripped his hips in a firm grasp as he bottomed out and he groaned out the most erotic sounding, “Fuck, George—”

George could have come right then and there, hearing him like that—hearing him moan his name like that. And once he slowly started to move, rocking into him in short, cautious thrusts, George’s eyes nearly rolled.

“Jesus Christ—” George choked out, hanging his head, almost forehead to forehead with the woman beneath him, “Feels so big…”

She ran her hands up and down his back, holding onto him warmly, asking with a smiling, “How’s that?”

“So..fucking good,” George mumbled as if he were drunk, his words a little slurred.

“Yeah, you like that?” Nico purred, voice thick with lust, his fingers kneading into the flesh of George’s hips with his pelvis pressed against his ass, “You like being filled?”

“Uh huh,” George stumbled out.

His eyes were struggling to stay open with the overwhelm of it all; being buried inside a beautiful woman and having an equally as beautiful man inside him at the same time. It was unreal. He had always thought taking anal would be incredibly uncomfortable and painful but, to his pleasant surprise, he truly never knew it would ever feel this good.

From behind him, Nico slowly started to ease out, only about halfway, before sinking into him again in a gentle, slow, testing push. George’s teeth sunk into his bottom lip through a muted groan at the slick friction, subconsciously pushing back into him at the same time.

“Shit,” Nico moaned handsomely, starting to thrust into him a little more consistently, a little faster.

George gasped tightly, his slender fingers curling into the sheets on either side of the woman’s head, still trapped on top of her (and inside her). His eyebrows were furrowed as if in concentration, focusing on every ounce of sensation that this night was offering, feeling every inch of his teammate’s cock stretching him out. George withered, his scrunched expression melting into pure, erotic pleasure as the seconds passed and, soon, his expression was straight out of a cheesy pornography magazine.

George’s eyes were closed so peacefully, long lashes resting against flushed cheeks, a low, warm moan falling from his chest as the slick sound of bodies filled the room. Nico was setting a good pace, fucking into him enough to have the steady clap of skin joining in the lewd harmony with the squelch of lube, and George swore he was in fucking heaven.

With a needy whine, George pushed back on him again, meeting his strokes with a quivering, “Ooh, fuck yeah.”

“That’s it,” Nico exhaled thickly, pulling a hand back to slap down crisply against George’s ass without stalling his movements, “good boy.”

The woman beneath him let out a little moan of her own as his shifting had his cock starting to thrust into her in messy, shallow motions, finally giving her some friction that she had been deprived of while patiently waiting for him to get comfortable. Her fingers grasped George’s back and her trimmed nails dug into his muscle, staring up at him with nothing but lust in her eyes and across her expression. With the way he moved, she was burning for more and he could feel it in the way her hands were pawing at his back, almost like she didn’t want to appear too needy but couldn’t hold it back anymore.

When he fluttered his eyes open again to meet her gaze, she barely had to say a word before he was leaning down and taking her lips with his in a filthy kiss. It was made messy by his ungraceful movements on top of her, torn between wanting to focus on fucking himself back on Nico or fucking himself forward into her. George moaned into her mouth between sloppy kisses and the fingers of one of his hands tangled into the roots of her hair in a snug grip.

A few seconds later, George broke away from her lips as Nico slowed his thrusts to a stop. Desperate to keep feeling that intense pleasure, George pushed himself back on him a little harder, a little faster, ultimately causing himself to fuck into the beautiful woman beneath him at the same time. Nico shuffled closer so George didn’t have to move too much, allowing him to be buried nice and deep inside his grid girl while still properly taking his teammate’s dick, letting him set his own pace and, ultimately, do all the work.

George choked over a needy groan, not caring how pathetic he must have sounded as his hands pressed hard into the mattress and he let his instinctual desire take over, shoving hard into the woman beneath him and letting himself recoil back against Nico’s cock. The three of them were a mess of panted breaths and pleasured sounds; the luxurious Monte Carlo bedroom rising in heat and housing the lewd harmonies.

“Fuck!” the woman gasped from the bottom of the trio, her legs tucked around George’s thighs, “You’re so fucking deep, holy shit—”

George’s jaw clenched for a moment, trying to hold himself back through the way she squeezed around him and how her nails dragged across his back. She truly sounded like he was fucking every sound from her chest, matching the pace of his sloppy thrusts even with his limited range of motion with Nico still so close behind him. The woman reached a hand down to rub at her clit, arching against the bed with a cry to the ceiling.

The feeling of Nico’s hand on his shoulder startled George out of his reverie for a moment but he didn’t falter for long, far too drunk on the euphoria to stop. Nico spanked him again with his other hand, still knelt motionless to let George do all the work. A true mentor; making sure his mentee knew the ropes.

“Look at you, Georgie,” Nico praised warmly, spanking him again, “such a little slut, aren’t you?”

George let out some sound that sounded equally like a moan and a whimper and something like choking on air. How was this real life? He felt like this was some out of body experience or some really fucked up wet dream and any second now he would wake up in his driver’s room with sticky shorts and a nagging dread that Nico heard him moaning in his sleep through the thin walls of the motorhome.

That definitely hadn’t happened before…

But here, now, that dreamy fantasy that George had once tried so hard to suppress was all too real and feeling all too good.

“Always such a good boy,” Nico praised on, his hand firmly gripping George’s shoulder and undoubtedly watching the way his ass jiggled with every collision of their slick bodies, “what would you twenty-year-old self think if he saw you now? Little Williams Racing protégé…never properly thanked me for giving you my seat.”

He was only teasing and George knew that—he knew Nico well enough by that point—but the words still stirred a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was almost as if Nico knew that his younger self idolized him to the point of guilt-ridden infatuation. Truly, honestly, what would younger George think if he saw what was happening now?

It was hard to think about with the state of putty his brain was in; molten from the pleasure and exertion of the moment. George was still going at it like it was a race of his own, feeling that all too familiar hunger for a win. He wanted to fucking come so bad.

It certainly didn’t help that the woman beneath him—who he had been fantasizing about since the first race of the damn calendar that year—was all but crying on his cock, writhing and moaning and gasping and doing everything he elaborately imagined. Why was this night suddenly his subconscious come to life?! Not that he was complaining by any means but he was certainly going to need a good few days to process this.

“Don’t stop! Fuck, I’m gonna come!” his beautiful grid girl cried out, eyes screwed shut and head tossed back, her hair splayed out across the wrinkled bed sheets, “Yes, yes, yes, yes!”

“That’s it, keep going,” Nico encouraged him with another swat of his ass, “Make her come. Make her come all over your cock.”

“Fucking…Christ…” George groaned through his teeth, desperately holding himself back as her pussy squeezed tightly around him with her impending orgasm.

She looked a vision when she came, falling perfectly silent as she gaped to the ceiling and her body shuddered and tremoured beneath him. George desperately tried to keep going, grinding insistently into her to work her through it. And then, her hands flew up to grab his waist as she gasped out of it, a dreamy smile coming to her face with a gasping, “Oh, fuck.”

George dipped right down to swallow up her lips in a kiss, sharing hungry breathless kisses as she slung her arms around his shoulders. Nico’s hands rubbed down his back and, with his younger teammate momentarily distracted, slowly pulled out of him. George broke away from the woman’s wet kiss to glance over his shoulder at him in protest.

He didn’t need to say a word before Nico was explaining coolly, “I want to look at your face when I make you come.”

George barely had a second to process those words before the woman beneath him was wriggling out from under him. The bed squeaked faintly with the ungraceful scramble of three to switch positions until George had taken her place in the centre of the bed on his back and she was situating herself beside him. His cock was still so hard that it was angled right up against his pelvis, swollen red and leaking all over the thin line of downy hair that stretched up to his navel. Nico, still, was kneeling between George’s legs and he grabbed the backs of his knees to push his legs up towards his chest.

George groaned tightly at the unexpected stretch with his body nearly folded in half. Nico soothed him with an easy and reassuring, “I know how much you can bend. I see you stretching in the gym.”

The awareness that Nico had seen him in the gym had George’s teeth sinking into his bottom lip. No, he hadn’t just seen him and been present and helped him out, he had taken notice. George couldn’t help but wrap his hands around the backs of his thighs to pull his legs farther back.

“Oh my God, someone’s eager,” Nico chuckled almost darkly at his obvious eagerness.

Normally, George might have offered some cheeky rebuttal, leaning into that comfortable banter between him and his teammate. But, instead, he had a very firm one track mind. With a bat of his lashes and a pathetic pout, George could only spill out a, “Please. Please put it back in.”

He might have been drunk on pure, raw need, but he still noticed the way Nico’s expression flickered with a sense of carnal lust at that simple beg. Then, the older man shuffled closer on his knees to position himself right between George’s legs, angling the protected head of his cock against his gaping hole.

“Yeah, please, Nico, please…” George rambled wetly, fingers tightening their grip on the back of his own legs as he watched intently.

From beside them, the well fucked woman reached out with the bottle of lube in hand and dribbled more onto the head of Nico’s cock and right over George’s perineum, watching it drip downwards. Nico smeared it in with his dick and then slowly pressed back inside him.

George’s eyelashes fluttered as he stared up at him, his breath coming out in a wavering, “Oh fuck.”

“Mm, that’s it,” Nico groaned lowly, sinking into him all the way until his balls were pressed against the curve of George’s ass.

“Mhm,” George bit his lip harder at the realization of just how close they were, buzzing through every nerve ending in every spot where his skin touched Nico’s. It was red hot. And now, being laid out on his back, George had a front row view to watch what Nico looked like when he fucked him.

Almost right away, Nico was finding his pace again with his hands pressed firmly on the backs of George’s thighs to keep him bent in half. With his breath halting in his throat for a moment, all George could hear was the sloppy squelch of the lube with every firm thrust from his teammate, creating a dizzying rhythm. His aching cock bounced against his pelvis, still wrapped in the condom that was smeared in creamy streaks from the beautiful woman he had just made come moments earlier.

George inhaled sharply, and without thinking, he reached out and set his hands on Nico’s chest as if to ground himself.

“Yeah, good boy,” Nico praised breathily as he kept thrusting into him, “taking every inch of me.”

George slid his hands down his chest, shamelessly touching him in all the ways he had pretended he didn’t want to right down to his waist where he pressed his fingers into his pale flesh as if to help tug him into his every movement. It was wholly erotic and George could feel his toes curling as his head arched back against the pillows.

“Sh-Shit, Nico—” George let his name slip from his lips in a whimper of pleasure. He let go of his teammate’s body to, instead, grab the back of his own knees to hold himself spread.

“There you go, Georgie,” Nico purred, wrapping his hands firmly around George’s ankles, “Take it.”

From beside them, the woman had been watching intently, not wanting to interrupt. Now that they had found their pace, she moved in. Her hand took George’s place on Nico’s chest, feeling the heat of his skin and the slight sheen of sweat under palm, and she leaned in to kiss his jaw. Without faltering, Nico turned his head to accept her lips on his, kissing her lewdly while still fucking into George.

“F-Fuck,” George stumbled out, watching the two most gorgeous people he knew make out right in front of him.

He felt like he couldn’t get enough. Of anything and everything. The only word his brain could think of was ‘more, more, more’. And, since he was so well past the point of no return on his shame or dignity, he let himself say it outwardly.

“More,” it came out like a raspy croak, breaking in his throat like he was barely pubescent, “Please, more.”

Nico and his beautiful grid girl broke apart and, in the light of the bedroom, George could see the hairline string of spit breaking between their lips as they pulled away. He stared up at his teammate as if he wasn’t sure if he had even said those words out loud.

“Needy fucking boy, aren’t you?” Nico chastised lightly, proving that he had, and then fucked into him a little harder until the clap of their skin got louder, “Always wanting all the attention.”

“Ohfuckyeahplease,” George heaved at the change in intensity, staring up into Nico’s handsome face with a blue-eyed stare that could melt ice. His eyebrows were peaked in just the right place to make him look as if he were in a state of awe, his lips pouted with a blubbering, “Please, please…just like that.”

“Such good manners,” the woman cooed as she rolled the used condom off his dick. He wasn’t even sure where she put it before she was leaning down and lifting his cock up from his abs and wrapping her swollen lips around him.

George, incredibly sensitive, had his eyes fucking rolling at that added sensation, one hand flying to the back of her neck and his other splaying across the sheets for something to hold onto. She sucked on his cock at the same pace as Nico fucked him, sending George’s head spinning.

“Ho-ly shit,” George withered. His head arched back against the bed with a choked gasp, “Holy ffffuck—”

Nico’s grip on his ankles tightened, his firm gaze sweeping between watching himself fuck into his younger teammate and staring at the expressions that painted George’s face. Flushed and horny, George was in a complete daze and barely unable to keep his eyes open although he tried.

The bed creaked under Nico’s every sharp thrust and he held George’s legs back farther so he could get a better angle. George crooned erotically at the stretch up his thighs (and deep inside him) and his hand on the back of the woman’s head kept her swallowing down his cock at the same time. She moaned and gagged around him, draped half on top of him to get herself facing down between his bent and wide open legs while Nico held control.

George writhed and moaned, sheets curled in his fingers with his other hand tangling in the back of her hair. He stared up at Nico the best he could no matter how much his eyes wanted to shut with the intensity of it all. He could barely offer a pleading little nod, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, mouthing a broken, “Yes…”

“Yes?” Nico echoed out loud, his eyebrows raising without a falter of his motions.

The woman lifted her head up from between George’s legs with a spitty gasp and cough, blinking herself back to reality for a moment before leaning in to kiss along Nico’s happy trail as he kept fucking into the whimpering man beneath him. When she moved back, she readjusted herself beside George and leaned down to kiss his neck instead and he couldn’t help the frown that came to his face as the rising intensity tapered with the loss of her mouth on his dick.

His arm was still lazily around her, hand cupping her bare shoulder as if to keep her from leaving his side. Not that she was planning on it because the way she was kissing and licking and sucking over his neck and collarbones made it very clear she was very happy where she was. George tilted his head back to give her room to kiss up the column of his neck and she licked over his Adam's apple and nipped at his jaw.

Nico let out a tight groan, “You feel so good, Georgie.”

George couldn’t answer behind the beautiful woman’s tongue helping itself to his mouth. His lips smacked wetly with hers despite the way his body jostled slightly with every firm thrust from the man above him, his slick cock bouncing. He was so fucking hard and so turned on that he was leaking all over his abs, smearing sticky precum across his flushed skin, and he just had to reach down to touch himself.

He barely got a hand around his dick before Nico was swatting his hand away to do it himself. Nico matched the pace of his relentless thrusts with his hand pumping George’s cock, giving him that glorious added stimulation that he had been craving.

“Ah!” George all but squeaked, breaking away from the kiss, “Nico! Fuck! Don’t stop!”

“Not gonna stop,” Nico promised breathily, his voice a velvety purr. His hand stroked him off, made easily slick by the combination of spit, precum, and the presence of lube that seemed to be covering almost every part of their bodies. Then, he adjusted his position just a little more, pushing into him just a little more straight-on, and like the flip of a switch, George’s entire body turned boneless.

“Ohh-hh-hh—” George withered, eyes rolling shut, “Fuck-ing— yes, right there—”

He could hear the sweet giggle of the woman beside him, barely recognizing the heat of her hand on his chest or her lips attaching themselves to his neck again, fingers swirling over his hardened nipples. The feeling of Nico drilling right into his fucking prostate had tears burning in George’s eyes and one trailed down his flushed cheek. George couldn’t lay still. Nico held a firm grip on his ankle to keep him from getting too far, fucking him into submission on his king size bed and expensive sheets.

It was fine, though, really. George felt too much like the personification of putty to really move, the logical part of his brain that was desperately clinging onto this newfound pleasure refusing to let him wiggle away from this. Nothing had felt quite like this before.

He felt as though the heat was rising in his body, a sizzling warmth pumping through his veins and swelling through his cock as it throbbed in Nico’s hand. George’s hands flew to the sides, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turned white, trying to steady his breathing with how fast and desperate it was coming now.

“Oh, look at you,” the woman praised him angelically, her words echoing in his ears.

“Nnngh—” was the only sound George could manage to get out as his body slowly but surely grew into tension. He desperately tried to keep his eyes open, staring up at Nico above him and the way his jaw was clenched in concentration. The pad of Nico’s thumb grazed over the underside of the head of his cock with every firm stroke and George could feel himself getting closer by the second.

“Come on,” Nico said through his teeth, keeping his firm pace going, “That’s it.”

“I’m gonna come…” George managed out in the most pathetic whimper known to man, making him sound like was about to sob. “Please…please, Nico, please, please—”

“That’s it, Georgie,” Nico praised. “Be a good boy and come for me.”

George had never felt the build up like this before. Sure, it had always been an overwhelming feeling but, now, he felt almost beside himself with the intensity…and it just kept building and building. His breaths were growing more and more jagged, laced in with moans and anticipatory whimpers that grew pitchier, fists tugging at the sheets with his bottom lip lodged between his teeth as he stared up at Nico.

When the build up reached its peak, George’s eyelids fluttered erotically like he was being fucking posessed and his breath caught in his throat, body tensing for a split second as if he had hit a brick wall. Everything halted.

Much to his surprise, the first shot of cum streaked right up to land across his cheek.

Quickly, it was followed by a second that landed across his lips.

George couldn’t even react to the fact that he just came so hard that he came on his own face as he felt like he had lost complete control of his body as his orgasm tore through him. He was sent into pleasured convulsions as Nico fucked him through it and kept stroking him off at the same time. More thick spurts came out, albeit more tame than the initial few, painting up George’s chest and abs in ribbons after ribbons as he sobbed out his teammate’s name with a voice filled with nothing but pure eroticism.

He sounded like a fucking pornstar as he gasped and moaned and cried through it. George, in all his hazy euphoric glory, swore it was never going to end; the intense waves of pleasure just kept rolling through him in a seemingly never-ending progression. It truly felt like he was experiencing an orgasm for the first time all over again. Unreal.

Nico let go of George’s cock in a hurried motion as he pulled out of him and rolled off the condom. He barely had it tossed to the side before his hand was taking its place around his dick and he gave himself a few desperate pumps. In seconds, he was coming too, streaking right up George’s abs, mixing in with his own mess of cum, and the last few drops painted the shaft of George’s softening cock.

George had barely had his wits about him to properly appreciate Nico’s face and sounds when he came; merely hearing the echo of his moans somewhere in the haze as he shuddered on his bed and let him come all over him. Blinking away the tears from his eyes as his orgasm finally tapered off into that post-euphoria buzz, George’s eyes was honed in on Nico’s flushed face and pleasured expression, watching as the older man dragged two fingers through his cum on George’s abs and then lifted his fingers.

George, as if driven by instinct, let his swollen lips part and let him slide his cum-covered fingers into his mouth. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Nico’s gaze, staring up at him as he sucked on his fingers and licked them clean. The slightly salty taste startled his taste buds but there was almost an underlying hint of sweetness that had George shamelessly enjoying it. Or maybe it was just the fact that it was Nico’s cum he was being fed, by the hand of the man himself, after near years of suppressing his strange desire for just that.

Nico pulled his fingers from George's mouth and then dragged his wet fingertips over his spitty lips, gathering up some of his own cum to then push back in against his tongue. With a breathless purr, Nico praised him, “Good boy…cleaning up your mess without a single complaint out of that pretty mouth of yours.”

George hummed around his fingers, eyelashes heavy and fluttering. When Nico pulled his fingers back out, a thin string of spit broke between his fingertips and George’s pouted lips. The woman beside them, who had been watching the whole ordeal with a front row seat, moved in to clean up the rest without a word.

Once her lips met George’s cheek in an open mouthed kiss, his hand blindly raised to rest around her bicep as she leaned in and started to kiss and lick up the cum that was still streaked across his cheek and smeared around his lips. The two of them soon melted into slow, sloppy kisses, breathless and wanton, almost more tongue than anything else.

When she pulled away, she swiped the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip and George draped an arm above his head with a breathy sigh as his eyes fell closed. He swallowed thickly as he caught his barings, melting into the comfortable mattress beneath him.

And then, with a tone taking on a bit more seriousness, Nico asked him, “You okay?”

George nodded, dazed, “Mhm.”

“Yeah?” Nico chuckled warmly, his hands rubbing up and down the outsides of George’s thighs that still framed him, easing him out of his pleasure, “You took it like a fucking champion.”

“You really did,” the woman agreed with a hint of pride in her voice.

“Fuck,” George croaked out, his voice suddenly so rough that he had to clear his throat. His eyes fluttered open again to look up at the two beautiful people knelt over him, his gaze drifting to Nico as he replied cheekily, “Yeah, you reckon we’re both champions now then?”

The trio shared breathy laughter.

The woman draped herself out beside George on the large bed and his arm naturally went around her, pulling her close as he turned his head and pressed a kiss to her temple. Nico shifted off the bed, announcing he was going to get a damp cloth to help clean them up and they let him go. Comfortable in the presence of his beautiful grid girl, George, at the same time, felt a strange emptiness as Nico disappeared around the corner and into the ensuite bathroom.

She tilted her head back against George’s arm to meet his gaze, bringing him back to their moment with a playful, “Quite the first date then, hm?”

George’s expression broke into a handsome grin and he offered a lighthearted eyeroll and a, “You can say that again.”

“Mm, I was surprised you asked me out, honestly,” she stated casually.

“Really?” George glanced at her. Her cheeks were still rouged from the remnants of their escapades. “Why?”

“Because it was always painfully clear that you had eyes for Nico.”

She answered like it was nothing more than a declaration of the weather. George shivered.

Before he could even figure out what to reply with, Nico returned to the room. With him, he carried three warm, damp cloths and the trio shared the responsibility of cleaning themselves and each other up, wiping away sweat and lube and cum from their flushed skin. Then, laying together in a euphoric tangle all together on Nico’s expensive bed sheets, nude, George was blissfully in the middle.

No one spoke for a moment; simply catching their bearings. George stared at the ceiling.

After a moment, he worked up enough courage to turn his head to the right to look at Nico. He was already looking back at him.

Nico’s lips pricked up at the corner in a small smirk and he took the initiative to lift his hand up to press the pad of his thumb against the corner of George’s lips, “You have a bit of—”

George stayed still, staring at him, as he wiped a bit of cum from the corner of his mouth.

George’s mind was spinning. Did he always have such thoughts about Nico because he felt protected by him? Just held him on a pedestal because Nico was the one who took him under his wing and helped him develop into the driver and title contender he was? Or was there more to it? As he laid there, naked, in Nico’s bed, it felt equal parts terrifying and improper and, yet, as if it were right where he was meant to be.

There was so much still unsaid between the three of them as the night dragged on, logistics and meanings behind their night together needing to be discussed. There was a lot George needed to wrap his mind around, having to figure out where he stood with both parties and what his own reflection of self looked like moving forward. It wasn’t all going to be figured out in one night. So, for now, he let himself simply take the moments as they came.

Technicalities could be smoothed over later. It wasn’t a race. Besides, he had the upcoming season to focus on and prepare for, in which he would be taking the position of first driver. He had big shoes to fill.

And eventually, a year later, with two races still left in the season and forty-six points ahead of the runner up, George Russell won his first World Championship.

He went over to Nico’s to celebrate.

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#⛓️‍💥#hoping this does better on here than it did on ao3 lol #f1 smut #formula 1 smut #nico rosberg smut #george russell smut #russberg #nico rosberg fanfic #george russell fanfic #nico rosberg fic #george russell fic #george russell x reader #nico rosberg x reader #nico rosberg and george russell #nico rosberg x george russell #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x you

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satancopilotsmytardis · 8 hours ago

Text

Head Empty, Stuffed...

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by @curufins-smile. Dabi has a hard time letting go in his and Shigaraki’s scenes until he starts pretending to be something he’s not. The escalation from that point to pretending to be nothing but a head-empty horny slut is not something he foresaw for himself, but he is absolutely not complaining when it makes him feel so good.

Contents: BDSM, Dumbification, Bimbofication, Feminization, Lingerie, Edging, Orgasm Denial, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, Creampie, Cock Cage, Dirty Talk, Degradation, Praise Kink, Daddy Kink, Prostate Milking, Spanking, Dacryphilia, Subspace

Word Count: 8,167

Dabi has, even after everything in his life has gone wrong, always been the kind of person who thinks he knows exactly how and where his life is going to go next. Maybe that innate sense is from how he was told he had purpose when he was born, maybe he is just someone who constantly seeks out a way to make his life mean something, but either way, he has always known what he would be. That thing has changed over the years, but visualizing his future was never something that he had trouble with.

Tomura Shigaraki might be the only time Dabi has been thrown a curveball and left spinning on his ass as he tries to figure out where he's going from here. Dabi wasn't expecting Shigaraki to be anything other than a villain obsessed with his own goals when he first heard about the League. And then he hadn't been expecting him to be anything other than an entitled, loser, brat, gamer-bro villain who was being bankrolled by real power in villain circles and he would just be a tool for Dabi to use to get to his goals. And then he thought he was a worthless waste of space when AFO got arrested. And then he thought that maybe Shigaraki could actually be capable enough for him to be worth Dabi spending his time with after the Overhaul thing. It wasn't until he watched Duster tear down the city around them in Deika as he convinced the army that was standing against them that he could be a good leader and that hitching his horse to this wagon until his own inevitable end was truly a good idea. Dabi has had a lot of thoughts about Shigaraki over the months that they've known each other, but he absolutely didn't have any concrete ones about the other man’s sexuality until he was confronted with it.

"Grand Commander," The PLF member that spoke was a woman, in her early twenties, bright eyes, big tits, and a sweet smile that had not convinced Dabi that she was innocent and coquettish as she was trying to present herself as she immediately got a little too close to Shigaraki as she introduced herself. "It's so wonderful to see the new direction that you've taken the organization in so far." She said, completely ignoring Dabi who had been in the middle of trying to set a time for he and Shigaraki to go over what he'd missed since he spent two straight weeks getting healed by the doctor so that he wouldn't be limping around here on his cane or dying of gangrene from the fingers that had to be amputated. "I would love to spend some time together one-on-one and hear about the other ways that you plan to make changes." She batted her eyelashes and Dabi would have gagged if he weren't so flabbergasted that anyone would make a pass at Shigaraki of all people. "I have a combat quirk, so if you're cleared for more strenuous activities, we could also do some training together sometime."

He'd opened his mouth to say something then, but Shigaraki had blatantly run his eyes up and down her body before he'd turned back to him. "We can meet in my office tomorrow at eight. I'll see you then." Before he turned and walked off with her.

Dabi had gaped after him, but when the shock and indignation wore off, he had figured Duster had just never gotten any attention from a girl before and the socially isolated gamer was just begging for attention and his first taste of pussy.

And then when he went back up to their wing of the villa after finishing all of his work for the day, he had heard her howling with her pleasure and begging for more through the walls until nearly two in the morning. Dabi had been just about to lose his mind, but thankfully, someone else spoke to Duster about the lackluster soundproofing in their rooms and he had contractors up there within the week to make sure the incident didn't repeat itself.

So fine, Dabi acknowledged that Shigaraki fucks. He could also say that chick was putting on a good show for whatever status she didn't end up getting from fucking the new leader. But that didn't stop other people from trying it with Duster too. More girls, guys, people outside of the binary, and Shigaraki accepted a handful. Dabi couldn't even tell what the other liked, given that the people he took to bed had such a wide variety of different traits, worked in different departments, and had completely different styles. But whatever. Shigaraki's dick was his business, and Dabi was going to go back to ignoring it. He could admit that he didn't expect Shigaraki to be the kind who was able to pull but that wasn't going to impact his work.

And then Shigaraki stopped seeing anyone else and Toga mentioned when he was helping her trim her hair that he smelled lovesick. The idea of their boss being so fucking influenced by his emotions like that had Dabi hording the knowledge like a knife in his back pocket. He thought that was fair given that they had tried to kill each other when they first met.

It was bad form for him to pull it out when he was trying to go over work with Duster in his office and he noticed that the other man seemed a little distracted.

"Put away the longing, hand job, I'm not just here to look pretty." He'd snapped and that had red eyes locking onto his with an intensity he hadn't been expecting. "Yeah, Toga told me about your crush, stop thinking about it when we're supposed to be working." He couldn't help pressing the advantage when he had it.

Shigaraki had tensed slightly and then he'd taken a slow breath, "What about outside of work?"

Dabi snorted and went back to the papers, "What you do with your dick outside of work isn't my concern unless you make it mine."

Dabi had thought he was being pretty clear that he didn't give a fuck who Shigaraki, well, fucked, but when they finished their work and he stood up to leave and Shig had caught his wrist, stepped right into his space, wrapped a hand around the back of his neck just gently enough not to kill him before his mouth had been over his own and he was being devoured, Dabi realized that neither of them had been playing with a full deck.

He had changed his expectations about Shigaraki a lot since they met, and even more when he'd gotten his head out of his own ass and actually started dating him properly. But Dabi had not been able to anticipate how much he would want to change where he was going next or who he was when he was with Tomura. Not giving up his goals, or changing who he would be outside of their bedroom, but inside of it? Oh, he had no idea just how freeing it would be to not have to think about that future or have any expectations on him but his dom's.

///

Dabi is going to kill someone. He might kill a lot of someones if he goes out this weekend to 'recruit' as they try to keep up the pretense that they still don't have the resources that they do now with the PLF. Besides, keeping the heroes, especially Hawks who is still trying to crawl back into his good graces after he blew up at him, and blew his tattered cover, when he pulled the sword on him after the High-End fight is a good thing. He should probably take a couple of days off and wander around in a city not too far from Fukuoka so that he thinks that he's just been slumming it there in the aftermath. After that, maybe he should try a gamble with the doctor. He's not going to turn him into a nomu now, not when that would get him the wrong kind of attention from the rest of the League, but maybe he could do something about the shitty medical care he's been able to get for himself since he left the hospital. At least Ujiko actually has a medical license. After that it would probably behoove him to take some time digging around the files that their spy in UA sent them. He hasn't heard much about his brother's studies since his internship started, not since that villain went to their house and Natsuo nearly got killed. He should also--

"Dabi."

He blinks, looking up from his laptop where he was finishing writing the meeting notes so that none of the other lieutenants, i.e. Geten, can pretend to have 'forgotten' something that they talked about and then go about doing the same old bullshit that he used to before they rebranded.

"I'm going to be home this weekend." He tells him easily, "Why don't you go get pretty and we can do something special tonight?"

Dabi didn't realize that his mind had been running so quickly it had seeped tension throughout every inch of his body until his lover offers him a reprieve. "Fuck off." The words are practiced and vicious, but everyone just thinks that he's, as Toga says, a complete prude when it comes to showing anything about his and Duster's relationship outside of their bedroom. They think he's just being prickly because that's what he does and Tomura is teasing him about it because he likes to see the rise that he can get out of him. It's a good illusion to keep because Dabi quickly finishes up the memo so he can go straight upstairs and do exactly what Tomura wants.

Dabi knows that no one in their right mind really would find him pretty, but thankfully, Shigaraki has bad taste and likes to play pretend with him. He likes to be in charge, likes to make sure that Dabi isn't thinking twenty steps ahead as he constantly rushes towards his own goals in the midst of their war. When they have time to be together, he wants it to just be them, not all of the screaming thoughts that race through his head when he gets like this. But being apart for another three weeks while his lover was getting treatments from the doctor and having to keep on top of everything in the PLF has taxed him in a way that he knows will only get worse if he doesn't take the relief that Tomura is offering him. Besides, now that they've found the right cocktail of play that they can use to give him that, he's more than eager to take it.

Knocking down the wall between their rooms, soundproofing the new space, putting in a second walk-in closet, and expanding the ensuite had been a project that took two months, even with the ability to use all of their own people who are also more than happy to use their quirks to speed up the work. But now their room is theirs, made perfect for them when they're inside. The separate seating area with Shig's game setup and the TV, the massive bed with the custom headboard that Dabi has been locked into more than once, a big tub so he can soak in it when he's been worked over too thoroughly to move for himself, and of course, the second closet.

This door is locked whenever they're not using it, both of them knowing that the chances of one of their friends barging into their room for something or another is still extremely high, and not wanting to compromise their privacy or Dabi's dignity by leaving it open. He has one key, Duster the other, and he goes over to the door and feels the last of his tension melt away as he turns it in the lock and hears that satisfying click ring through the room. Dabi enters the closet and immediately is hit with the smell of the soft floral perfume that is sitting on the vanity. Their normal closet is filled with their normal clothes. Tomura's suits, their villain shit, their casual clothes, and it is all just organized cleanly and neatly with an organizer that they essentially just dragged and dropped from some big online furniture store. That room is pragmatic, this room is for play. Dabi steps into the closet, the floor in this room carpeted with a thicker, plusher pale pink than the dull gray of the rest of their room. Three of the walls are covered with built-in drawers, racks, shelves, and cabinets to organize all of the things that they could ever need during play, from dildos, restraints, collars, and lube to leather, lingerie and heels.

Dabi goes over to the section that is absolutely lined from end to end with... girl clothes. He had just about killed Tomura when he suggested it, but after having to safe word out of half a dozen scenes, and then dropping two times he pushed himself to keep them going when his head just could not get to where it needed to be, he was ready to try anything. Becoming Tomura's baby girl had not been something he thought he would like, but it... worked for him. Dabi knows what he is and what he's not, and having Tomura treat him so differently during their play when he already innately knew that he was wearing a costume had helped him to get his head on board with the kinks they were exploring more than any amount of negotiation ever had. So when Tomura tells him to get pretty, he knows that it's time for him to stop being him and for Dabi to start... being Daddy's baby girl.

With how heavy his head has been for the past week, Dabi is more than ready to make things easier for himself by being Daddy's girl now, and he picks out his undergarments first. Different ones usually tell his Daddy what kinds of play he wants. The black strappy ones tell him that he wants him to be mean to him, the red ones beg for him to romance him and give him more pleasure than he thinks that his body can take, the white ask for him to be the one to corrupt him 'first', but Dabi passes over all of those and goes for the bubble gum pink set. His head is too big and heavy and he wants to be stupid for the weekend. He wants his body to feel good and to be able to look at himself and pretend that he's pretty. So he picks out a thin lacy pair of panties that make his cock and balls look so cute inside of them and a pink and white bra with push-up demi cups, the pillow-soft padding pushing the muscle of his chest up so that he looks softer there like he has a cute pair of tits nearly spilling over the edge of the cup trimmed with pink lace. He can't help running his hands up over his chest, biting his lower lip as he sees how much the undergarments alone have already changed how he looks and have made his head feel a little lighter. He can be cute like this.

Dabi loves to go through the rest of the clothes. Daddy sometimes lets him go on shopping sprees with his credit cards, but sometimes he just buys him boxes of new clothes that Dabi doesn't get to see until he picks them out. It makes him feel so spoiled as he gets to walk up and down the rows and select his baby girl clothes for the day. Dabi's whole body goes hot when he sees the micromini skirt that has a little white petticoat attached to the underside that he knows will show his Daddy his ass if he moves at all and he takes that off of the hanger and shimmies into it, before picking a garter, ruffled headband, white stockings, and a pair of pretty heels that he has to sit on the big pink heart-shaped ottoman to put on. They make his legs look nice and push his weight onto his toes, giving him the illusion of a fuller butt beneath the skirt. He's so cute like this and he's a little giddy as he goes over to the vanity. He's already giggling to himself when he realizes that he can't actually pull his skirt low enough to sit on, his panties against the stool as he reaches for his makeup and perfume to make all of him softer.

He adds a fruity scent to his skin to soften the stressful tang of smoke that has been clinging to him after having to be responsible for so long while his Daddy was gone. Then he makes sure that his lashes are curled and there's mascara making them thicker and fuller, making his eyes pop, and covering his lips in a fruity pink sparkly gloss that makes his skin soft. He looks so cute like this. Toga would be jealous of how many cute clothes he has, how cute he gets to be when his Daddy takes care of him. He doesn't know when his Daddy is going to finish with things elsewhere and it's too hard to think about finding wherever he threw his phone when he got into the room, so Dabi stays at his vanity and picks out one of his pretty sparkly nail polishes too and starts to work on those as well.

When they're all painted and all that's left is for him to wait for the top coat to fully cure, he gets up from the vanity and goes out into the rest of their bedroom. Daddy still isn't there and Dabi huffs and throws himself onto their black leather couch, trying to take the remote between his palms so that he doesn't mess up his nails. It's still hard to hit the right button to turn it on, and he immediately starts to scroll through the channels. The TV is always left on the news, but that makes his head full and he knows that baby girls are supposed to have empty heads and holes for their Daddies to fill. So he can't watch something like that. So he clicks through the channels, flitting between a shopping program and a saucy magical girl show that's only on one of the special channels his Daddy got on this TV for them to enjoy. Dabi wonders if his Daddy would buy him all of the pretty sparkly jewelry being advertised and then make him feel good with only that glittering on his body, but then they start to talk about a new air fryer and he switches to the magical girl show and watches as the domineering villain catches the hero with their legs spread wide around a bench that morphs into an undulating snake that starts to move through the city streets. The movements of the snake rub against the hero's crotch, sending waves of pleasure through them as they try to struggle out of their restraints and stop themself from getting so visibly aroused by the treatment as the villain lets the whole city see how humiliated and needy the hero actually is when it comes down to it. Tha has Dabi's clit starting to harden in his panties and he starts to squirm on the couch reaching down to palm himself through his panties. The soft lace puts so much texture against him as he squeezes himself and lets out a moan from how good that feels.

"Already emptying that pretty head for me, princess?" Daddy asks as he shuts and locks their door. Dabi immediately squeezes himself again, spreading his legs wider so Daddy can see how cute he looks in his pretty clothes he bought him.

"Uh-huh."

"Did you finish sending that memo to everyone?" He asks as he starts to loosen his tie.

Dabi blinks, his hand falling away from his crotch, "Yeah, Duster, wha--"

Daddy clicks his tongue with clear derision. "Not empty enough yet, but that's okay, baby girl. Daddy is going to help you become the stupid, needy slut that you were made to be."

Heat rushes fresh through his body, his clit starting to harden and his nipples pebbling inside of his bra as he lets out another needy moan at just the suggestion. Yes, yes, he wants that. He wants to be nothing but empty holes for his Daddy to fill. Daddy goes into the closet and Dabi sits up a bit more on the couch, checking to make sure his nails are dry so he doesn't make any messes that might distract him. When Daddy comes back out he's holding a new toy and a small case. It's a black pillow made of a velvety material that he recognizes as the waterproof kind that their favorite blanket is made of, and it has a strange plastic hole in the center.

"I know that your head gets filled with so many thoughts when Daddy isn't here to make sure that you stay pretty and stupid, princess." He says, leaning down to press a kiss to Dabi's temple before he starts to arrange the cushion on the couch. Daddy then unzips the carrying case and takes out a dildo much smaller than his cock and Dabi pouts. He's gotten so spoiled from having his Daddy's cock that anything smaller feels like a punishment. Tomura chuckles when he sees his expression, "On your hands and knees, baby girl." He gives the order as he locks the dildo into the plastic housing on the pillow. Dabi immediately moves into the position he wants, and Daddy rubs his hands along his ass, his gloves already in place so he doesn't have to worry about Dabi hurting himself if he does something stupid like moaning and spreading his legs wider as he pushes back to try to get his Daddy to touch his pussy sooner. The biting slap that comes down over one cheek only makes his clit twitch hard in his panties and Dabi can't help how hot it makes him.

Daddy doesn't even take his panties off, he just uses one hand to stretch them to the side, his other squirting icy lube against his hole so he's nice and wet for him. But he doesn't unzip his pants and give Dabi what he wants. Instead he presses a finger inside of him, making sure his insides are wet too and Dabi tries to entice him more by heating his body a little more with his quirk. That has Daddy pulling that finger out so he can land a spanking right against Dabi's pussy.

"Naughty girl. Thinking you can manipulate me. Thinking," he clicks his tongue derisively and Dabi whimpers. "It's a good thing I came home when I did, otherwise you would have forgotten completely that good sluts aren't supposed to think."

"I'm sorry, Daddy." He chirps, resisting the urge to push himself back into the touches so he can get more.

"You're not going to be anything but an aching clit and a dripping cunt for me, soon, princess." Tomura promises him. "Because you're going to sit right here," He pulls Dabi up again and has him position himself over the smaller dildo. "You're going to sit here and watch the pretty colors on screen while your pussy gets all warmed up for Daddy's cock." He says before reaching back into the carrying case and taking out a little bullet vibrator. "You're going to tease your cute little clit until you're all wet in your panties and Daddy is sure that you don't have any thoughts rattling around in your head." Dabi's body goes warmer as his Daddy tells him what to do. "But if you cum before I give you permission, then Daddy is going to have to punish you, baby girl."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Good girl. Now let Daddy see you stretch your pussy."

Dabi eagerly holds his panties aside as he sinks down on the false cock, letting it start to stretch him in a much less satisfying way than he knows his Daddy's cock will when he gets it. Then Daddy gives him the bullet and lets him turn it on. The vibrations that start to go through him as he reaches to rub it against his head has another moan immediately tumbling from his lips as his Daddy moves so he can see the TV again. He would have pouted as he realizes that Tomura is going to shower and change if not for the fact his Daddy takes one more thing out, a little black remote from his pocket. He clicks that on and Dabi keens as the pillow starts to move beneath his spread legs, the dildo starting to fuck into his hole slowly. He starts to move in time with it, his clit hardening so much his skirt is tenting and his panties are stretched as he starts to make himself feel so good.

///

Dabi isn't sure how long his Daddy has left him like this. He doesn't know how many episodes of this show have flashed over the screen or how to count the number of times he's had to take the bullet away from his clit. His whole head is foggy, his body trembling. There is smoke leaking from his seams and the heat of his quirk is making his skin glisten with a thin sheen of sweat as his clit aches. His balls are so tight and the dildo inside of him has rendered his wall so sensitive that every slow mechanical thrust is leaving him on the verge of tears. He wants to cum so badly, but he can't. Daddy said he had to wait. But it's so hard to remember that when his whole body is so tight from forcing himself away from his completion again and again.

He keeps running the bullet along himself, having to touch different parts of his oversensitive flesh so that he doesn't spill without permission, but the sharper that the vibrations begin to feel against him, the less he remembers that he's supposed to stop. Or, rather, the less he cares. He wants to feel good. Good girls bounce on cocks, they let their pussies do the thinking for them, they get to feel good all of the time. Dabi is a good girl. He's so cute when he sees himself in the reflection of the screen whenever it goes dark between scenes. He's cute, and good, and he is so, so horny. He wants to be allowed to feel good. Dabi feels himself getting close again and he can't make himself take the bullet away or try to angle himself up so that the toy inside of him isn't rocking so deliciously against his aching prostate anymore. He keeps the toys right where they are and he chases that good, good feeling that he's been starving himself of for the past however long he's been here.

He is just about to tip over that final edge before both toys abruptly turn off completely. Dabi cries out, trying to push the dildo deeper inside of his pussy, trying to find a button on any part of the bullet, tears filling his eyes as his foggy head fails to make sense of what's happening. He was so, so close. He just needed a little more--

"Are you really such a stupid little bimbo that all of Daddy's orders leaked out of your ears like how your pre soaked your panties?"

Just hearing Daddy's voice has him moaning, arching back against the couch so that he can rest his neck against the back of it and look up at him. Daddy's long hair is wet from his shower, his chest bare, and he smells so good that all he wants to do is shove his face against his skin as he brings their bodies as close together as he can.

Daddy doesn't make him try to speak, reaching down to take the bullet from his hand and then rubbing his fingers along Dabi's clit through the lace that is sticky and so wet from how many times he's gotten so close that there is a puddle on the cushion where he's been riding the toy. "But you did get all wet for Daddy without cumming, which means that you don't have to be punished."

"Thank you, Daddy," he chirps automatically. He doesn't like it when he gets punished. Not when that means he doesn't get to feel good the way that Daddy always makes him when he's good.

"Take off your panties, baby girl." Daddy tells him, straightening up so that he can come around the side of the couch.

Dabi tries to move quickly, but his legs are so weak from riding the toy that it takes him a second to even just stand. And when he does, he nearly collapses into Tomura, but thankfully his Daddy is so strong and sure that he catches him. Dabi can't help giggling as he teeters a little on his heels and that makes Daddy smile too.

"My ditzy little girl."

"Uh-huh," He agrees, but manages to get his feet under him so that Daddy can sit on the couch. Tomura was only in a towel, and he sheds that as he sits, letting Dabi see every inch of him. His whole brain feels hot and soupy as his eyes drag along his Daddy's body. Over the swell of his pecks, the strong line of his shoulders, his thick arms, cut stomach, the sharp v of his hips that lead the eye to muscular thighs and the thick, long cock that hangs between them. Dabi's pussy can't actually drip just from seeing him, but he knows that it would if it could. As is, his clitty is twitching in his panties again, and he needs to get out of the scrap of lace that is confining him now. As he shimmies the soaked fabric off of him, trying to do it without getting the icky mess on his stockings or shoes, Daddy opens the lube and pours some into his own palm, reaching for his pretty cock and starting to stroke himself as he watches Dabi partially strip.

"You look so cute like this, princess. Turn around."

Dabi is more than eager to turn for him, giving a little spin that makes him stumble on his weak legs before he fully turns away from Tomura.

"Bend over, baby girl. Let Daddy see how pink your pussy is."

Dabi has to brace one hand against the coffee table as he folds over at the waist immediately, his other one going to his ass as he feels his skirt pull up to expose most of him. He doesn't bother trying to tug it down, he wants to show Daddy how hungry his pussy is, and he spreads his cheek open with the other hand, feeling some of the lube from the dildo slip out and drip along his taint.

"Mm, so cute, all pink and puffy like that, princess. Daddy is going to make you do the same thing when he's all finished filling up your slutty little holes. Gonna take a picture and make it the background on all of your devices so that every time you open one, you remember that you're not supposed to be anything but my needy little cumdump."

"Daddy," it's not a protest. It's a moan, a plea, as he has to quickly lift his hand from the table to push his skirt hard against his clit as it gushes another stream of pre as the thought of never forgetting this makes him so warm.

"Did that get you so close, princess?" Daddy's voice is mocking, but when he looks over his shoulder to nod weakly, he sees that he's smiling. "Okay, baby girl, come here."

Dabi straightens up right away, his skirt pushed up around his clit that's so hard that he's going to turn purple soon, as Daddy leans over the back of the couch to pull another box up from the other side. He stands in front of his Daddy, trying so hard to think through the fog enough to find his words. "I wanna be yours Daddy."

Tomura pauses with one hand in the box. "You're already mine, princess."

"Like this." He admits, feeling warmth in his cheeks as he plays with one of the layers of his little skirt.

"Oh?" He stops stroking himself, his cock hard now and making Dabi's head dizzy with arousal as he licks his lips, knowing that he will taste so good if he takes him into his mouth instead of his aching cunt. Tomura wraps his hand around Dabi's hip and pulls him between his spread thighs. "You want to be Daddy's just like this? Not the scheming little brat, just Daddy's good, dumb, horny slut that doesn't think about anything but getting his pussy filled?"

He can't hide how badly he wants that when his whole body trembles and Daddy can see how the words immediately have thick drops of pre beading on his head and dripping over his skin.

"You can be Daddy's dumb slut all the time, princess." He purrs. "But you'll have to be trained properly. Right now you're such a needy little bitch, you wouldn't be able to walk around in all of your cute little outfits without being tricked into letting someone else touch you and you're Daddy's set of holes."

"I'll be good, Daddy."

"We're going to see about that. I have something that you'd need to wear until I know that you wouldn't let anyone else touch, and so I know that my silly little girl won't get so distracted from his own cute clit that he touches himself without permission. If you can wear it for the rest of the weekend, then Daddy will let you wear some of your princess clothes out on Monday."

"Okay, Daddy!" He agrees immediately. He wants to wear more of his cute clothes. He wants to have his pussy filled. He wants to have his skirts on so that Daddy can decide when he wants him wherever they are and he can bend over for him to fill or drop to his knees right there so he can get his mouth splattered with his cum.

The smile Daddy gives him is so sweet the second before the grip on his hip goes bruising. It goes so tight to keep him in place as Daddy takes the ice pack from the box and presses it directly to his clit and balls, the heat of Dabi's skin so intense and the sharpness of the chill so bright that a hiss goes through the air before he squeals as it instantly starts to melt against him. The cold bites at his princess parts and makes his arousal from there ebb so sharply that Dabi's eyes are filling with tears and his whole mind goes cloudy with heartbreak. He was being a good girl, wasn't he? So why is his Daddy hurting him like this?

The sob that tears out of him is shushed by his Daddy. "It's okay, baby girl. Daddy just wants to see you little."

He doesn't want to be little, he wants to cum, but then Daddy takes away the ice pack when he's all soft and as small as he can go from how badly his body reacted to the cold. Before he can find words, Daddy exchanges the pack for a pink silicone... thingy. Dabi hasn't seen a thing like that before. It looks like a little cup with a ring on one side of it and a little slit going through the tip. Daddy pulls him closer again and he slips his clitty into the tube part before the ring goes around his balls. The tube is textureless inside and once his balls are in place and the sleeve is pulled to the right position, Dabi is squirming again because it feels... little. Not too tight, but it's hugging every part of his clit and he doesn't understand what this toy is for. Daddy uses a little pink padlock to snap the two pieces together and lock them in place. He looks down, reaching for the hem of his skirt so he can see that his clit has been pressed small and tight to his body in a way he hasn't ever had done before. It looks... different.

"There, princess, look at how cute you are in that pretty pink clit cage." Daddy coos at him.

Dabi manages a sniffle. "Cute?" The rest of the words flow through his mind and out the other ear.

Daddy smiles so sweetly. "Absolutely adorable, baby girl. So cute that Daddy doesn't want to wait to have your tight little pussy any more. Come here, precious, in my lap. Daddy wants to watch your pretty tits bounce."

The compliments make his head feel much softer than it did a minute ago and he climbs into Daddy's lap eagerly. He's even happier when he doesn't have to lift himself into the right position. His Daddy is so strong now with all of his special quirks, so Daddy lifts him, hooking Dabi's knees over his shoulders, and bracing him with one hand against his thigh and the other arm supporting him around his lower back. Then he starts to lower Dabi down onto his cock like he's nothing but a fucktoy. Dabi moans at the first press of his thick head against his hole, the sharpness of the ice and strangeness of the clit cage enough to have distracted him from how badly his insides wanted to be stretched properly after being teased with the little toy for so long.

That arousal comes flooding back now but... it can't go to his clit. Dabi keens, looking down at his heaving chest as Daddy sinks him all the way along his length so hard that his tits really do bounce. Dabi gets distracted by the movement for a second, liking the way that he looks in the push-up bra as he jiggles. But then Daddy draws him back up and slams him right back down. The movement of the toy had been slow and aiming to abuse his prostate constantly, but now he's so worked up that these harder, deeper thrusts, brush past it and make him see stars as those untouched, unstretched parts of his pussy are made to take the brunt of the stimulation now. And it's good, it's so, so good, but it doesn't have his clit filling after being chilled. It has his whole body tingling hotter because his arousal can't go where he's used to it. Dabi wants to find words, wants to figure out how he's supposed to cum with the cage on, but Daddy doesn't slow down. He pushes in harder and harder on every thrust, faster and faster as he drags Dabi's body down into them rather than letting gravity take any of the work.

All he can do is moan, reaching for Daddy's hair, tangling his fingers in it and getting even louder when he manages to drag him in closer so that Daddy puts his mouth on his bouncing tits. He catches the center of the bra between his teeth and tugs it down as he lifts Dabi high along his cock, making his tits pop out over the top of the cups when he's tugged back down roughly a second later. With his nipples exposed, Daddy wastes no time in bringing his mouth there, sucking and tugging his piercings with his teeth until his tits are aching almost as badly as his clit that still isn't being allowed to get hard in the tight silicone that is trapping it. Dabi doesn't know if he's ever whined and howled at the way his body feels as he's made to experience his arousal in a completely new way, but every pulse of pleasure through his body that isn't allowed to go to his clit heightens the sensations elsewhere.

He wants to cum so badly, he's wanted to cum for forever now, surely. It's been years at this point, surely, but Daddy doesn't let him. The tight hold on his clit doesn't let him. He just has to writhe as his tits are tortured and his cunt is fucked so roughly, so perfectly, his whole body folded in on himself so that he can be made the perfect toy to satisfy his Daddy's needs. He likes to be used for his needs, so when Daddy keeps fucking him hard as Dabi's own frustration sends sharp tears along his cheeks again, he does get a little relief and satisfaction when Tomura's mouth shifts from his tits to his cheeks so that he can lick away the bloody tracks of tears before he fucks up into him hard one more time before Dabi is mewling as he's filled with Daddy's cum. His whole body is so hot that the thick splash of his seed spilling deep feels cool inside as he is held in place to be pumped full.

"Mm, fuck, princess. Love your pussy so much, don't know how I'm going to get anything done if you're walking around so eager to get filled like this again. Maybe Daddy will need to buy you a few longer skirts so that you can sit in his lap all throughout our meetings. Gonna have to teach you to be quiet if I do though, because I don't think my stupid little slut will be able to stop himself from babbling to everyone about how much he likes to warm his Daddy's cock."

Tomura just came, but Dabi still hasn't been allowed to and he is trembling hard in his lap, sobbing with his need as his hand goes down to his clitty. He tries to tug at the tight ring around his balls, the tighter sleeve that keeps him small and soft no matter how badly he wants to cum, and neither budge. When he can't get them off he tries to rub himself, squeeze himself, through the silicone, and Daddy laughs at his desperation.

"You have to keep it on if you want to stay Daddy's little slut forever." He teases. "You're practicing to be a good girl on Monday, aren't you, baby girl?"

"I wanna cum, Daddy," he whines desperately. "I wanna feel good." It's sheer petulance when he keeps trying to rub himself off fruitlessly as he sobs. "Dumb whores are supposed to feel good! Pretty princesses are supposed to get spoiled!" He's supposed to be both of those things. He made himself a pretty princess for Daddy today by picking out his pink panties. He made himself dumb by emptying his head of anything but the gratification that he's been craving for so long now. He wants to have what he was promised right now!

Daddy laughs at him and makes Dabi squeal as he sinks two fingers into his pussy right alongside his softening cock. The extra stretch has Dabi keening, his toes curling as he feels some of Tomu's cum gush out of his abused pussy. But then those fingers are crooking and rubbing. Like the toy before, they find his prostate and start to prod at it relentlessly. "You're going to do something else today, baby girl. Daddy is going to show you something that will make you even better at being his good little slut. Something that will make him so happy and that will make sure that your needy body learns that it only gets to feel good when Daddy says so. This way you won't ever get so distracted from your own tits or how cute you are and start to touch yourself. You want to be a perfect little slut for Daddy, don't you?" Daddy doesn't wait for his response, rubbing his fingers inside of him deliberately again. "Don't worry baby girl, you don't actually have to listen to any of that, I know it would be too much for you to process right now when Daddy's made sure that your pussy is so full and your head is nice and empty."

Dabi keens in response, rocking down harder on the fingers as best he can, his head is too foggy to make sense of Daddy's words. He just wants whatever pleasure he can get from him.

"Come on, princess," he coos, "Just let go. You aren't anything but what I make you now. And I want to see my little girl squirt."

His body doesn't feel the same way it ever has before when his arousal peaks. It doesn't send pleasure pulsing along his clit, it doesn't even feel like the good, satisfying full-body sensation that comes from when his Daddy makes him cum from his pussy instead. No, this sends that heat that was burning up under his skin to deep inside of him, aching at his root even though his clit is still held soft in the cage, before he's letting out a higher pitched, embarrassed moan as all of the sudden his clit is spilling everywhere. It doesn't pulse out a few spurts of thick white cum, instead a thin pearly liquid starts to stream from the hole at the tip of his cage, Daddy shifting their positions then to lay Dabi back against the couch as he keeps rubbing his fingers hard against his swollen prostate with one hand and his other, now free, hand reaches to his clit and teases his slit as he spills, and spills, and spills. Dabi's whole body trembles as he makes a big mess, so much more fluid coming out of him than he's ever felt before and leaving him absolutely breathless as the burn of arousal in him only seems half satisfied when it finally stops.

"Mm, there, such a good little whore. Spread yourself open for Daddy, baby girl." Tomu demands as he pulls his fingers out of his hole and wipes his cum off on Dabi's skirt. He feels so dazed, but he follows the instructions automatically, one leg falling open so far it slips off the edge of the couch. Dabi reaches down and makes sure his pussy is as spread as it can be, shivering as he feels how wet he is, soaked with everything that came out when he... squirted, and all of Daddy's cum spilling out too. Daddy reaches over for his phone and doesn't hesitate to take pictures of him while he's so dazed and messy. "There, baby girl. You look so cute like that." He sets the device aside and then regards the huge mess that they've made of the couch.

It's a sharp relief when Daddy doesn't try to make him put his head back on straight, instead standing so that he can lean down and pluck Dabi from the couch.

"I know it's going to take more than one time to make sure my baby girl is trained properly. But that's okay, I think that you still have enough energy for Daddy to smudge your pretty lipstick, don't you, princess?"

Dabi doesn't even really hear the words. He just sees his Daddy smiling down at him sweetly and nods along. His head is too empty to try to think for himself. It's such a good thing he has a Daddy to do it for him instead.

///

Thank fucking god Duster doesn't take the shit he does when he's completely in bimbo mode to heart without actually checking in with him, because Dabi would have killed them both if he'd come out of the headspace in the middle of a meeting when one of the other lieutenants said something stupid only to realize he was dressed like a girl. Thank god he can say 'no' to the things he might have said 'yes' to when he was absolutely desperate for all of the good floaty feelings that come for him when he's in his subspace. So when Monday rolls around he is back to doing his work with the efficiency that he always has, in his usual villain gear.

But maybe it's just another testament to how completely Tomura has thrown a monkey wrench into his plans for himself and who he thought he would be leading up to his death, because beneath his dark pants, the soft pair of pink satin panties and the tight cock cage that is keeping him cute and small for his Daddy are keeping him aware of what else he'll become whenever he has a chance.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed please consider leaving a comment/ask. If you'd like to get a commission, consider checking out my guidelines at the bottom of my pinned post! Commissions are half price until the end of March!

#my writing #shigadabi

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