#I was promised LOWER TEMPS

[cultivating-wildflowers]

☁️

[realness-remade]

marble garden zone music healing me

[screampied]

𝜗𝜚 B- BIRTHING HIPS ?!

☆ sum. no one expects the pretty sweet wife ( you ) to have such good birthing hips! not even him. gojo, toji, sukuna, nanami, choso, geto.

wc. 5.9k

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, established relationships, ex-husband! toji, semi-public (nanami), bręeding, riding him ‘till he breaks, cowgirl + reverse, cęrvix kissing, reader with the STAMINAAA, (1x) usage of "mistress", squīrting, ass worship, spīt, shotgunning (toji), size kinks.

SATORU ★ GOJO.

“h- hah, ooh sweets,” satoru would swallow thickly, every sticky digit on his fingerprints tightly gripping into the bare soft flesh of your fidgeting ass.

you swerved in seductive circles, maintaining direct eye contact while he’s stuffed inch after fat inch inside of you.

as hurried, shallow pants leave his glossed lips, satoru gives your ass a playful little spank, encouraging your tempo to accelerate with quicker hits against his lap.

“when you said you.. had a birthday present for me i-” and his voice sheepishly lowers, feeling an incoming moan travel its way up his parched throat at you suddenly surprising his face with a barrage of open-mouthed kisses. “i didn’t think y’meant your ah- hips..”

“you complaining, ‘toru?” you’d cheekily hum, combing a few fingers through his perfect hair. your ears instinctively perked at the cute, small sound of satoru’s mewl just from you running a few digits down his overly tender scalp.

your cunt was just sooo unfair-

it swallowed each inch, feeling your gripping walls wring him tight like a vice every single time..

you even spot sparkly tears glossing on his glittery lashes from the immense, raw pleasure.

“n- no! no, ‘m never complaining, promise,” he’d speak in a rush, melting right as your lips sneak a wet kiss against his mouth. a string of saliva cowardly runs away from both pairs of shimmery lips before you feel him shiver underneath you.

you were perfect- and satoru was the one who thought he had the most stamina. in reality, though, it was you. the two of you ended up losing track of time—and it’s probably been hours upon hours of you riding your husband into straight blissful oblivion.

you’re so up close that you had a clear view of him, drinking up his pretty, vocal moans as you attack his lips once again with a three-second kiss. “a- ah, i just—” he stammers, pawing sweaty palms at your ass.

you were just so ruthless- your rear, your hips, your fuckin’ knees… you just knew no bounds..

you rolled your waist in a way where it gave him a plethora of shivers. you moan, feeling the prints of his sticky fingertips dig into your skin as his tip thrashes its way around your cunt. “i.. i forgot- forgot- what i was gonna,” he’d whine, whitish brows curling into an arch. “my god-” he hiccups.

just as your hips dip inward, proudly taking in every fat inch inside of you deeply, he knew that this was it.

satoru was seeing white—not only seeing white, but he was shooting it too.

creamy gooey wads that drizzled inside of your cunt, filling you to the very brim with his lustrous knot. his cum pours inside of you oh-so sloppily and you gasp as your jittery legs forcibly cling onto his thighs like paste.

sharp pounds of skin were rough - barbarically slamming against each other at full speed even while he was still cumming.

with the sole help of your hips, you’d turn the strongest into the whiniest..

he’s whining once he continues to spray such thin ribbons inside of you, filling your cunt to capacity with seed as his right thigh grows limp.

satoru’s flushed- and his jaw was cutely dropped with his eyes bulging wide out of their sockets. it was as if your ass moved in slow motion—you were still riding him but the temp was much, much slower..

his long limbs slowly spread themselves apart as you straddled over him, staring intently into his eyes with an impish smile. satoru’s panting just as much as you. you peer at how his snowy-white hair’s all ruffled - nearly matted as he awkwardly runs a hand through.

“aw,” you’d press another kiss against his twitching mouth, feeling his naturally glossed lips tremor beneath yours. it was so, so much- and your cunt stored every velvety drop. satoru felt your ass greedily rounding itself back onto his leaking cock as you planted your palms on his chest.

his heart-

it’s racing, and he could barely even look you in the eye. satoru was embarrassed, but he didn’t want you to stop. not now - not ever.

you knew that for a fact because a small pout started to crease against his thin pink lips once, he felt your hips coming to a devastatingly slow. “why’s the pout, birthday boy? still not satisfied?”

“h.. how can i not be with those unfair hips,” satoru moans, taking pauses for each gulping breath as if was going to be his last.

strong, brawny arms wrap around your waist before he pulls you close, feeling a bubbly white ring coat its way around his thick base. satoru grunts at your hips coming to their final concluding stop, and he smacks a hand against your ass.

he looks down between the white mess that paints between thighs, moaning at the sight of your stuffed cunt before sighing deeply. “mhm- so perfect. h- happy fuckin’ birthday to me.”

as you writhe around his cock that’s still languidly emitting out such thick ropes from the gummed inside, you pepper his face with kisses. satoru moans at your touch as his hands reel your hips back into him.

“y’know, for the strongest, you really gotta work on your stamina,” you tease, watching that same pout gloss against his lips. satoru’s groaned silently as he pumped you full of chalky amounts that forevermore continued to ooze down the sides of your legs. you hovered over him, brushing a soft thumb over his cheek before leaning in to whisper against the shell of his ear. “how ‘bout we do every round for every year you turned, including today?”

“heh- sweets,” satoru tilts his head, doing the quick math in his head for about a millisecond before he pulls you into his beefy chest. a scarred hand guides a warm path down your arched back as he inhales your scent—huskily grunting into your neck before chuckling. “then we’d be goin’ for like.. thirty-four rounds.”

“exactly,” you coo, and satoru ogles as you remove his blindfold that lazily hung just above his eyes. bawling it into your first - you put it into his mouth and he lets off a muffled groan. satoru falls back against the satin-covered pillows of the bed with the flesh of your bare ass still in his hand before he blinks thrice.

oh.. you looked so pretty..

towering over him like this when it’s usually the other way around.

satoru leans into your touch once you tenderly cup his face, winding up your bucking hips by introducing that beloved teeth-shattering thrust that never failed to drive him crazy.

“ngh- lie back,” and satoru starts to moan continuously with his blindfold clogging his throat before you start to ferociously slam your hips onto his lap. “let’s s.. start from the beginning though, round one, birthday boy.”

TOJI ★ FUSHIGURO.

bleary-eyed and hazed, toji groans, staring at how perfectly your ass effortlessly tossed itself back against him..

in the background of the dimly lit room with a few exceptions of lit candles, some old western movie played in the ambience. he couldn’t keep his attention on the vintage film anyway, not when you were riding him so so good.

“fuckin’ shit, babygirl,” he’d lean back, hooking a beefy arm around your waist. as you lean in close, your soft right cheek tickles against his prickly growing stubble. a stubby rolled blunt sticks out between his teeth as grassy eyes his continued to droop from his erotic high.

your hips were insane - and every gruesome swerve of your ass gives him whiplash. “remember when you…hah- used ‘ta ride me like this on our honeymoon? heh, don’t tell me y’er still in love.”

“mmng- shut up, toji,” you’d moan, clawing a hand at his dingy white tank. toji feels your eyes lingering on him and you can visibly see that haughty smirk wickedly trying to carve its way against his crooked lips.

oh, how you loathed him.

you told yourself it was supposed to be the last time, but the last time always turns into one more, then two more, then three..

but that of course never happened.

the abnormally thick tension between you both forever grew. as you leaned against his hairy chest that was protected with the thin fabric of his tank top, you took the blunt from his lips before faintly inhaling the pungent smell.

“just shut up,” you’d whisper against the shell of his ear. toji grunts once the ruddy crown of his cock sloppily rams its way deeper further. your hands meet his chest and toji drops back, staring at you with a raised brow as you pin his beefy arms over his head. your hips continued to be robust, creating such vigorous thrusts that it made him clench his teeth in longing desire. “n’ let me ride you.”

“y…yes, ma’am,” toji breathes, his voice shifting more raspy from each direct hit of your deliciously springy hips. your cunt was just so precise, and his swollen tip repeatedly mashed its way thoroughly into your pulsating g-spot. it uses that pretty spot—imagining it’s a target and he hits it perfectly, bullseye every time.

the lightning-shaped veins ran through his bare arms as you held them over his head, dragging your bouncy ass back ‘n forth until he groans.

it was just something about your body that hypnotized him. your hips practically rolled into toji, moaning against his lips until hot smoke poured between the pried open cracks of his lips.

it lands against your tongue—and it’s flavorless, but you playfully lick the corner of his lip, feeling him shiver underneath you. “goddd- those fuckin’ hips. work ‘em, girl, fuuuck . . me.”

the way your pussy was just so sloppy too. the mere definition of wet. your slick clings against toji’s hefty sack like there was no tomorrow.

you had a watery grip that always made toji loll his eyes in lewd elation. the bed was almost louder than the combined moans of you both, and it even seemed like its constant groans and yelps were trying to compete.

“not so cocky now when you’re close, hm?” you’d airily whisper, feeling toji’s arm trying to flop itself back down. you grab his wrist, hearing the cute stubborn smack of his lips at your abrupt hold. “ahhh- touch, but no looking, baby.”

“bratty girl,” toji cocks his head, the lump in his throat nearly having him gasp for air. your hips were simply not fair - and pretty soon, he was coming close. your cunt’s wetly swallowing the entirety of his stout cock, twirling around his lap before viciously slamming down on his cock repeatedly.

your sweet, harmonic-like moans were pitchy and loud, but between your legs—you were far far louder. you swerved in erratic arcs, and each squelch that left from your pussy sounded wetter every time. you watched how toji’s defined abs bleed through his tank. “fine then. make me fuckin’ cum - c’mooon,” and he sharply brings a hand toward your ass. “make y’er lovin’ doting husband proud, yea?”

“and you call me the brat,” you’d grumble, leaning back in to swap the rest of the puffed smoke that lingered in his mouth. toji snickers, feeling your ass than its way in each ‘n every direction. your rhythm was just… perfect!

you’re moving in circles, you’re moving forward, hell, you even toss your ass backward just to watch his leafy eyes roll to the backs of their sockets. your cunt’s just profusely dripping wet, and he could feel you soaking from the inside at each sloppy bounce of your berserk hips.

toji’s trying to keep up his cocky façade, but with your unpredictable movements—he was screwed. “heh- atta girl, that’s my girl. ‘m all yours ‘n y’know know it,” he grunts, bruising your cervix repeatedly with smooch after smooch with the help of his plump tip. toji’s got your hips firmly by the palms, bouncing you harder on his hardened cock to make you babble out his name like it was its own sort of chant.

‘toji toji toji!’ was all you could whine out with your head empty and dumbed down from putting your hips to work.

“mhm- even if divorced, this pretty pussy always knows who it belongs t— fuck!”

mid-sentence, toji ends up cumming at that beautiful sharp smack of your ass that makes him nearly choke on a hoarse grunt. his grip against the fat of your ass loosens and his cock’s growing weak and soft, trying to retreat itself out of your pussy. it’s thin, slimy ropes that end up tangling with your treacly juices create a lewd cobweb that glues against both fleshy mounds. “mhm, soo fuckin’ good, toji,” you’d moan, slowing the rocking of your unsteady hips as he finally succumbs to his high.

the movie still quietly plays in the background, and you lean in—snatching the blunt out of his lips before kissing him. the taste of earthy, spiced smoke lands on your tongue once he returns the sloppy gesture, groaning into your mouth as he’s dumping load after hot load into you. “mmph-,” toji shivers, feeling your arms run down his beefy biceps, feeling all over his ripped body.

you couldn’t lie- you kind of missed him. kind of..

your hips still buckled and the friction makes him hiss against your teeth. “goddamn, i can’t.. feel my legs, baby girl,” he grumbles, tilting his head back slightly once your hips dip forward. “can’t stop . . cummin’ fuck-”

“seems like we gotta work on that stamina, old man,” you’d sneer, wriggling your ass once the last final spurts of cum fill inside of you. toji’s eyes then suddenly narrow at you, and you grin before he sits up. “what?”

“old man?” he repeats.

“yeah, old m-”

and it’s almost comical how you were literally straddling his lap—and now, you’re laid flat on your back with your knees rudely shoved up to the top of your chest. there’s a carnal look in toji’s eyes, and you gulp once you glance down at his feverishly hot cockhead that’s weeping with pearly droplets of dried cum.

“yeah, okay,” he grouses, earning a sweet moan from you once his tip harshly smacks against your tender opening.

toji spits on his palm before spanking your pussy, feeling you writhe in anticipation before he pulls your legs further back. his body hovers over you before he sticks his slick-covered fingers in his mouth for just a second to get a taste—aligning his fat tip before snickering at how eager you were to open up for him again already.

“let’s see just how quickly this ‘old man’ can break his pretty wife’s pussy then, hmm? just like old times, baby.”

NANAMI ★ KENTO.

if it was anything nanami kento despised more than constantly working day ‘n night at the office on constant repeat, drowning in piles of paperwork and getting his ear talked off by calls was leaving his pretty horny wife unsatisfied.

“sweetheart-” nanami timidly groans, slouching back against his rickety office chair. you were just nasty with your hips, slapping your ass against his cock that’s repeatedly reaching deep deep deep angles with little to zero effort.

it makes nanami pull on his checkered tie that’s a tad bit loose, tapping his heel against the wooden-cold floor. “ ‘m still…on the job,” and his voice pitches huskier from each languid stroke. your gaping cunt was hungrily sucking him in, flawlessly bruising your cervix with a multitude of french kisses. “but actually, this is . . better than staring at a computer screen all day.”

“yeaah?” you whisper, sneaking your spit-glossed lips near his chin. your body was straight-up sensual. nanami couldn’t keep up with the constant bouncy reel of your hips and the way you grind so lovingly against him.

the buckles of nanami’s belt clang as you rut against his lap, rubbing against the slim fabric of his pulled-down slacks.

as the office chair turned and swiveled, so did your hips. every few seconds, nanami would peek through blurred peripherals and hope no one would walk by his secluded cubicle.

“so paranoid, baby. hey, look at me, hey-” and as your hands crawl their way toward nanami’s chiseled cheeks, fawn eyes lock against yours within an instant. he’s sweating bullets, and you moan at the feeling of his cold watch band ghosting down your skin. “mhm, good. eyes up here, all on me. eyes on your poor wife who hasn’t been touched alllll day.”

“hah- more like.. you touch yourself by video calling me while showin’ off the toys i buy you,” nanami sighs, preventing himself from eye-rolling at the cunning grin that’s trying to compress against your lips. he was right though, whenever nanami was at work and you were at home—you’d call him, sometimes video call.

sliding your hands down your body… touching yourself while wearing his work clothes… purposely making a bit of a mess on his side of the bed too.

“can’t help it when my husband looks like you,” you whisper, leaning further forward so that your tummy’s pressed up against his tailored button-up. his cologne was always loud, he was wearing one of your favorites too.

it always smelled like a mixture of dirty cinnamon and rich, seductive chocolate. nanami quietly grunts, low eyes peering at his bright computer screen that had dozens of tabs open.

so overworked..

but he couldn’t lie—your hips always knew how to relieve his stress, make him forget all about his important tasks and documents he had to go over. your cunt’s just so greedy though.

every pump of his cock hastily drives through you at high speed, hips steadily forming such rough collisions with each crashing thrust. with the way you were riding him, he started to have thoughts of getting you pregnant. “f- fuuck.” he’d groan, sexily tilting his head to the left once your lips made their way onto his skin. you’re soft- creating a trail of invisible kisses as you rode him so good that he didn’t even notice his phone was suddenly ringing.

brrrriiiiiiinnng!

it’s the office phone—and it’s the same, high-pitched ringtone like always that was merely akin to nails on a chalkboard. “mmh- important phone call, ‘ken. must be important,” you’d teasingly moan, bringing your rocky hips to a brief pause. nanami groans in annoyance at the interruption, stretching his split knuckles one by one. with a lively hum, you playfully pout. “ ‘s okay, i can always…wait-”

“no- no,” nanami grumbles, soft brown eyes nearly rolling back due to the thick gaping stretch of his cock mending your insides with such ease. he pulls you into him, giving your ass a needy squeeze. lowly whispering into your ear, nanami sighs before answering the phone. “be a . . good girl ‘n keep those hips movin’ sweetheart. i’ll be quick.”

“yes, sir.” you’d play along, feeling his dick twitch between your saturated folds—and oh, you knew that made him hard. secretly, you knew nanami always did have a sir kink.

your ass slammed into nanami’s lap violently, and he’s feeling himself grow weaker and weaker the more your weight presses on top of him. “nanami, speaking,” he’d gruffly answer, trying to conceal his pantingly deep breaths.

you couldn’t really hear much except gibberish, but you started to get louder the more his mushroomy tip vertically drags its way down your sopping cunt. ‘mmph!’ after ‘mmph!’ would come out of you—and you were so vocal that he had to put a palm over your mouth.

nanami deadpans, clearly knowing what you were up to. “uh.. uh huh, i see,” he continues, groaning once his cock slides its way near your clit, tapping near your slick entrance before sloppily ‘popping!’ itself back out.

you bring a hand toward his veiny cock, slipping it back in before you then realize—you’re drooling all over his palm. “nasty.. girl,” he whispers under his breath, forgetting that he had someone on the other line.

the colleague on the other line said something along the lines of ‘what the…’ and nanami quickly backtracked. “ahem- i mean, yes. that sounds good. i should be free… monday.”

with the conversation coming to a close after a few overly prolonged seconds, nanami ends up cumming mid-conversation. the phone ends up dropping against his desk, and nanami groans, wrapping his arms around you while spewing out hot masses of cum.

“fuck- fuck sweetheart, oh, m- my,” he’d stammer, blond brows twisting together at the feelings of elation. it’s fiery hot - seeping deeply into your core so much that it even dribbles down your thigh. your cunt’s all puffy — prettily glistening with remnants of bubbly cum tearing from your folds before you kiss him. nanami moans against your wet, quivering lips as clashing teeth battle with each other.

as your grinding hips earn out a soft moan from him, he swallows your whines, tucking you underneath a sleeved arm before spanking your ass. “god, m- might have to propose to you again. ‘m still cummin’.”

and as you’re still straddling him with both sweaty bodies smushed against each other, your ear twitches at the quiet mumbling sounds of the phone that were never hung up.

“mr. nanami, what… on earth… did i just listen to.”

SUKUNA ★ RYŌMEN.

sukuna gravelly groans, huffing out low ‘fuck’ ‘s and ‘ugh’ ‘s after each spongy bounce of your ass.

the wholly cruel stretch of his cock buries itself deep within you making him click his tongue. sukuna was always a perfect fit — sometimes it took a bit of stretching, but he always knew he was around and inside. his cock knew each and every route, studying every slippery orifice and corner of your gummy, squeezing walls.

sinister, red eyes trail down your bouncing frame before he snickers at the cute taunting thrusts of your hips. “some . . nerve, woman,” he huffs, his lungs failing to keep up with your barbaric stamina. a sleazy grin tries to tug against both corners of his lips as he firmly grips your ass, spanking you again to encourage you to go faster. “ngh, ridin’ me while wearin’ my kimono? must hah- have some kinda death wish.”

the fabric wears your entire body loosely, and sukuna can’t help but gawk as you jerk your hips at such a sloppy tempo.

your pussy’s overwhelmed with all the fat inches of sukuna’s cock that mercilessly bullies its way into you. like always - he knew the exact layout of your pussy, and you moan once he presses a hand on your tummy.

“actuallyyy, they look better on me,” you quietly mumble, licking a stripe up his neck. sukuna inhales a sharp breath, scarlet eyes knocking further to the very back of his tilted skull. he was always a fool for your touch. “don’t you agree?”

“such a smart mouth,” sukuna grabs your entire chin, steadying your hips with another. out of the many enemies he’s faced—your hips were the far brutalist he’s ever been up against.

you didn’t know when to quit.

you moan at the soft pricks of his honed claws nipping at your skin, hearing the loud, pitchy sounds of both sharp rutting hips clashing in sync.

sukuna can’t help but stare—stare at you, at your body, and especially at the way you continuously threw your ass in circles, circles galore.

“think my wife’s gettin’ a ‘lil too spoiled,” he growly murmurs, tracing the claw of his thumb over your lip. your cunt’s never felt so full - his tip was just as mean as he was. it drags its way through a lewd pattern, caressing through every part of your gummy walls before seeing your eyes bulge to the size of saucers. “aw, look at that face. ‘s too big for you again, like always, hm?”

“s- shut up, ‘kuna.” you moan, pushing him back against the wobbly throne that sounded like it was about to snap into two within seconds. with a stubborn ‘hmmph!’ he lands on his back, eyeing you with a quirked pink brow.

with your knees bent to a certain degree, you started to guide your hipsby rocking it back against his lap. you knew how to swerve and grind. making the curse groan continuously from each slap of your hips, he spanks your ass while scoffing angrily under his breath.

sukuna didn’t have a weakness - besides you.

you had a type of arch that was killer.

all sukuna did was lie back while he watched you work. your ass bounced and bounced as skin against skin relentlessly ricochets onto each other. he didn’t even realize how his jaw was tightening. your grip was enticing—your cunt was slick as ever, drowning the entire shaft of his thick cock with your dripping sap. “g- goddamn, woman,” sukuna groans, his voice softening a bit.

who knew something as such as hips was enough to put the sukuna ryomen in check?

the penetration ended up turning sloppy within each ‘n every round that progressed, and sukuna’s tip was practically making love with your sensitive g-spot.

the stimulation had you moaning into his neck before you gasped, feeling him grab your hips. sukuna glances at you, feeling your sturdy hips nearly slowing down before he tauntingly tsks his tongue at you. “hah- don’t slow down now. you wanted ‘ta fuck me, so fuck me with those pathetic- hah, hips, girl.”

he’s just so big - you couldn’t help but whine out repeated inaudible whimpers. his custom made kimono loosely flows over your body as you continue to move with the constant creaks of his throne groaning from each bounce of weight. “f- fuck, ‘kuna,” a gargled moan bubbles out of your throat as you press a sloppy kiss against his lips.

sukuna’s jaw easily goes slack, and the rough slams of your ass left him spacing out in no time. your cunt’s so powerful that he gets transformed into another dimension for a split second. milliseconds pass and the demon sees nothing but pure white, and that’s when he cums.

sukuna lets out a gruff battle-crying groan once he releases—pouring such a gluey batch of cum into your cunt. it’s hot - messily oozing its way into you, a few spurts dribbling down his fat base that’s a blushing pink. a gravelly grunt leaves from sukuna as he grips your ass, making your hips circle their way slower against his pelvis.

“ugh- the audacity of this w- worthless pussy,” he stutters, shakily chewing on every word from the elated pleasure that comes from his finish. sukuna’s crimson eyes roll, and he bares his fangs deep into your neck as his creamy knot deepens inside of you. “fuck.”

“oh, don’t tell me you’re gettin’ tired already, m’lord,” you’d tease, saying that title, knowing how he’d always get hard whenever you addressed him in formal manners. sukuna’s faintly trembling underneath you, and he hisses at the sticky sight of his own cum that starts to paste against the undersides of your nearly numb thighs. eagerly, you buck your hips into him again, watching his eyes carnally widen. “one more round, ‘kuna—yeah?”

with a quirked pink brow and lowly hooded eyes, he’s panting heavily. sukuna’s cock twitched inside of you, practically creating a bulge just from how ridiculously thick he was before he sighs.

“y- yeah, one more.”

“one more what?”

sukuna shoots you a glare but it soon falters once your ruthless rocking starts up again.

you’re rough, burying your knees into his thighs as your ass smacks against his cock - making him groan out a needy whine.

“fuck- one more round.. mistress.”

CHOSO ★ KAMO.

every time you rode choso, he can’t help but fall in love with you - again.

it was just something about your hips. something about the way you moved, the way you stared deeply into his eyes, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. your voice alone was enough to make him finish, pumping you full of viscid wads that swam their way right into your warm, welcoming womb.

“s- so fuckin’ hot,” he’d whine out, studying each hop of your hips with bleary half-open eyes. if you squinted just enough, you’d spot how his pupils were gradually turning heart-shaped. you sensuously rolled your hips in a way where choso was at a loss for words.

“mmh- baby,” he’d groan, feeling your thighs lift before slamming straight back down. your cunt sloppily clamped down on his cock tightly, wringing choso dry and milking him for all that he was worth. “don’t- don’t stop, please- don’t stop, fuuuuck.”

flimsily, you threw your arms around over his shoulders that were so tense-slacked.

as you’re right next to his face, choso’s frantically panting—puffs of air leaving from his parted lips with greasy black strands sticking to his forehead. choso’s just glossed with sweat, and his hands start to slowly creep their way to the bottoms of your plush thighs. “touch me more, ‘cho,” you’d moan, grinding yourself against him in circular motions.

choso’s cock was hard - so so hard. you felt it, and it’s as if time stood still when it happened.

the blushing crown of his shaft securely squeezes its way through your pinching walls, introducing itself to your convulsing g-spot.

“chosooo, chos—oh!” you’d shriek, your thighs immediately collapsing against his. the stimulation of his crowned head smearing around the spongy texture makes you short-circuit for a moment.

you probably looked cartoonish. nothing but white painted the insides of your rolled eyes with your jaw goofily dangling open, furrowing brows curling up in such bawdy pleasure..

“a.. are you okay? does it hurt?” choso stammers, awkwardly cupping your face with big, roughly textured palms. your cheek falls into his hand as you smile, bringing a kiss toward the tip of his nose while leaning into his gentle touch.

“baby, ‘m fine,” you reassure him, watching choso’s shoulders sag. choso’s hands snag at your ass as his head falls back. the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat never stops bobbing, and he throatily groans once he starts to feel your wobbly hips pick up again.

“o..ooh! keep hittin’ there- yeah, right there,” and choso sucks his teeth as he not only hears but feels your pussy slickly slide on his cock. ravened eyes of his eventually flicker down at your neglected, bouncing chest and choso cutely sighs.

humming, you hold his chin while rubbing the pad of your thumb over his sheeny pouted lips. “go ahead, choso. feel ‘em.”

he’s touched you probably dozens of times. the two of you were married, and yet he was always hesitant, waiting for your approval. right when you gave it though, choso couldn’t contain himself anymore.

you gasped once choso quickly sank his face in between your chest, cupping his mouth around one of your bare nipples. “mmp-” he’d let off a muffled moan against your skin, the muscles in his face relaxing as he felt you patting his head.

you were still riding him, strenuously smacking your hips on top of him - each squelch from your cunt never failing to pitch higher and higher.

the arch of your back stretches further, and you feel his hand swat against your ass. choso’s tongue sloppily swirls around your tender nub before it turns into wet suckles. “f- fuck, jus’ like that, choso,” you’d whine, hearing each loud ‘pop!’ sound away from his lips once your tit occasionally slides out his mouth.

choso’s weakly rutting into you too, but one of his arms wraps around your hips - pulling you closer. you’re rocking back and forth, hearing him moan against your skin before he starts nipping. “ ‘m gonna c.. cum,” his eyes widen, digging slender fingertips into the right cheek of your ass.

and his voice shook at each pounce of your hips. you’re riding him until he breaks - literally.

the split of choso’s tip rummages its way through your tight, clenching walls, steadily jackhammering its head toward the hood of your clit. your thighs nearly snap together shut at the long-awaited pressure, and you wrap your arms around his slim torso.

“fuck, oh f- fuck ‘m gonna cum too, choso,” you’d whimper in his ear, feeling his body underneath you cutely shudder. your hips were just delicious.

he’s nearly forgetting to breathe with how damn good you rode him - with how you rotated your ass, rocking your waist, barreling all of his inches. choso’s heart thumped straight out of his chest, and one glance of you was all it took for him to realize he was falling in love with you again.

“ugh- fuck me, baby—use me, oh f- fuck,” he’d start rambling, the sweaty prints of his thumbs swirling circles around the occasional dents in your back. he found it so attractive how each time you moved or rocked against him, your muscles would cutely tense at the excessively wide stretch of his cock. “need you. i…hah- need…you,” he’d murmur between pauses of sharp breaths, and choso’s entire body slumps back within seconds.

one final thrust and he’s cumming - hard.

you end up finishing too — gushing straight out, poor trembly thighs collapsing right over his meaty thighs that were the mere definition of ‘numb’.

you’re whimpering as he’s filling you up with satiny ropes that tangle with your syrupy slick that soaks the head of his cock. “fuck, ‘cho, that’s it. r- relax,” you’d swerve your hips around, watching choso’s abs clench underneath you. you’re riding him so good that he thought he was gonna get pregnant.

you’re drenched - bringing two fingers toward your cunt, coolly spreading your pretty entrance apart. your clit’s pulsing, and you’re moaning once you see small masses of cum spilling down your clit. “you’re always so messy.”

“hah- for… you,” choso sighs, a sleazy grin forming across his lips. his hand still remains glued to your ass and he grunts, sneaking a hand between the crack of your thighs. “mmh- i think.. i want you to do that again, baby.”

“what?” you bring a chaste kiss toward his lips, swallowing the incoming whine that leaves from choso’s lips. he’s never tasted sweeter - and you could feel his body quiver at the feeling of your hands sliding down his chest.

choso moans against your lips, pressing his forehead against yours. “s.. squirt,” he purrs hoarsely, and you gasp once he lifts you, making you lie back this time. darkened eyes fall toward between your sprawled-out legs and he nearly drools — taking in the pure sight of his cum wetly streaming down your pearled nub. choso whines against your cunt, taking one long lap of his tongue, relishing at the messy taste of both mixtures of arousal - yours and his.

with a pout, choso starts to clean you up, smearing the bridge of his nose against your twitching cunt before meeting your gaze. “squirt again, pretty girl. i.. i wanna taste it this time,” and he gives your swollen heat a wet kiss.

“pretty please?”

SUGURU ★ GETO.

geto could practically feel his mouth watering once he saw that sweet, perfect arch of yours.

he’s used to seeing you in front, up close ‘n personal but no.. you wanted to try riding him in reverse. not only that, but you decided to ride him in reverse while he was still very much sensitive.

“ooh, p- princess,” he’d grunt hoarsely, tasting the treacly sweet stream of saliva pooling into his mouth. the buds that live on his tongue ached at the hot, comforting squeeze of your cunt. geto’s still getting over his recent orgasm—globs of cum still sticking against his cock and glossing wetly between your quivering legs. “ugh- you’re killin’ me here with that pretty fuckin’ arch of yours, y’know that?”

“mhm, good,” you’d reply in a hurried tone, feeling his lust-like gaze lock against your ass. you weren’t even going fast and yet, your hips already had him on a leash.

geto couldn’t stop staring - nor could he keep his strong, callused hands to himself.

you moaned, planting your hands against the crumpled-up sheets before gasping. geto makes you arch more, getting a pretty fogged-eyed view of the way your backside curves over his lap right before his eyes. “hah- suguru, don’t stop touchin’ me.”

“didn’t . . plan on it, pretty,” he rasps, trailing his eyes down at the rocking curvature of your waist. you’re fuckin’ moving, and with your hands gripping onto his knees—you threw your ass back against him time and time again. geto groans, feeling his reddened tip that was still leaking swab its way around your clit like a q-tip. your ass had a grip that made him nearly choke on the treacly saliva that sticks near the back of his tongue. “god- so perfect, look at you, girl. so hah- damn gorgeous when you’re on top, fuck.”

“mhm,” you’d bite back a moan, the sensual rolling of your hips turning more intimate by the second. his dick coarsely stretches through your slavering insides, sloppily pumping you full with each ‘pop!’ squelching out from between your thighs. geto keeps his gaze locked on your ass the entire time, and that’s when you start to bend your knees.

you arch lower, zealously wriggling your ass before bouncing on his cock and that’s when you hear him starting to whine. “fuck- so big,” you’d gasp, taking control of the tempo by steadily veering your hips like a boat. “hold my hips, sugu. hold ‘em while i fuck you.”

geto lets off a guttural groan, swatting a clammy palm against your backside before both hands attach near your rotating waist that’s raining with sweat from all angles. you’re merely glowing and it’s just so pretty.

“tch- you’re gettin’ cocky, princess,” he’d mumble, his voice turning shakier as your ass frantically ruts into him at full force. his sweltering hot tip’s on the verge of splitting you open and you moan each time you feel its overly vast curve delve straight inside your pussy, nastily dragging its way down your sopping valley. tossing his head back, geto’s abs instinctively clench through his shirt before he whines again. “ ‘m only lettin’ you take charge ‘cause i—”

and geto pauses abruptly, violently clenching his teeth at the slick pasty feeling of your pussy trapping the entirety of his thick length. breath snatches out of his chest before he groans loudly, spanking your ass with the corners of his lips twitching into a pout.

“o- oh fuck, ‘m gonna fuckin’ cum again,” and the words whine out from his lips oh-so prettily, grunting each time you slam your ass back down against his cock. his bulbous tip deepens its angle inside of you, rolling his eyes from the sudden pressure arising.

he’s never felt hotter — and geto nearly blacks out completely once you start to purposely slow down, sneaking a hand back to smack your ass right in front of his face while craning your neck. “yeah, give it t’me then, baby. don’t miss a fuckin’ drop.”

“such a s.. slut,” geto groans, nearly getting hypnotized by how good you’re dragging your hips in figure eights. they gradually shift into circles—and he’s buried deep deep deep, pounding into your cunt rawly until he ends up shooting blanks again. you end up finishing too, and it feels like a deep sigh you are finally letting go. shockwaves and electricity pierce through every nerve and vein through your body, and your mouth drops open—feeling your teeth chatter once your hips back their way up against him in reverse.

geto’s body underneath you immediately shudders and oh- he’s whimpering, feeling the weight of your rickety hips steady.

as his mouth grows dryly arid, geto lets off a weary ‘phew’ as the core muscles in his abs tighten.

viciously thin ropes of cum shoot into you. globs of it seep deep inside of you, watching as your cunt sloppily spits remnants of it on its tip—coating the shriveled-up base of his cock that’s been perfectly milked. “b.. baby,” he hoarsely groans, hands still stuck to each side of your hips.

it was such a pretty sight — your cunt remained stuffed full with buttery ribbons of cum that ran down your thighs before he spanks your ass.

“jus’ . . gimme a minute. think your pussy really hah- broke me,” and geto gives the right of your ass cheek its final needy squeeze before sighing in defeat. “f- fuuuuck, girl.”

[superswet]

🌲 road trip.

scott miller x reader Synopsis: when your camping trip with scott gets cut short because of a work emergency, you nearly kill him and every member of storm par, intent on making your ire well known on the drive home. but when you push scott too far, his impatience has other plans. or “If I have to pull over, you won’t be able to walk for a week.” Word Count: 13.3k Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI!!!, no use of y/n, bdsm, established dom/sub dynamic, pet names (honey, sweetheart, baby), brief mentions of serial killerisms (teasingly… maybe), semi-priv public sex (in a truck), scott has a whore mouth (again), groping, belting (f! receiving), spanking/slapping (f! receiving, breasts & v), oral (m+f), nippleplay (f! receiving), unprotected pinv, orgasm denial, fingering (f), cumplay, breeding A/N: when the "just a quick one shot" turns into a beast... oops? 😬 thank you to my proud sponsor aka the scott rot™️! if you enjoyed, pls feel free to reblog or give it a like and as always, my inbox is open if you want to chat!!! 🤍

On hour two of the drive back to OKC, you think you’ve lost your mind.

What had begun as a much-anticipated weekend road trip with Scott — an incredibly overdue escape, though you weren’t exactly keeping track — had swiftly turned from enjoying the fresh, open air and the promise of an entire weekend distraction-free, to a mountain of frustration that battled the ones in the distance. All because your charming, secretly sentimental boyfriend had wanted a picture of you and the sunset for his lock screen.

If you weren’t so upset about it, you probably would’ve laughed.

But this was the fourth (fourth!) time that something had gotten in the way of your Scott Time, and, look — you needed it. So. Fucking. Badly.

Which was why when his phone had gone off again, after Scott had ignored the voicemails Javi left him, you were so, so very tempted to hurl the fucking thing into the pond. Instead, you sat there, already trying to think of a way to get your lick back with the fact that he was the one who’d insisted that going off the grid meant going off the grid and electronics simply took away from the nature of it all, the hypocritical ass. And you’d watched, with dawning realization and equal devastation, as Scott’s entire demeanor had shifted from peeved that Javi even had the audacity, to shutting his mouth and speaking in yes, sir’s and I understand, sir’s.

Oh, Marshall Riggs was going to get an absolute earful the next time y’all sat down for Sunday dinner.

But first, you had your sights set on Scott. And, quite frankly, he deserved every second of petulant that you were giving him.

When he adjusted the air conditioning, you dropped the temp lower. When he found a good station on the radio, you changed it. When he asked for one of the snacks by your seat, you munched on it first, mumbling a fake apology when you passed him a small piece. And when you finally started talking, it was one word answers: yes, no, dunno, sure, fine, whatever.

And every time he gripped the steering wheel just a little tighter, you felt vindicated by the fact that it was ticking him off.

Good. You were ticked off. And unbelievably, atrociously bored. There were only so many things you could do in his truck while you were half giving him a cold shoulder. And, well, after the last time you’d reached for the volume and he’d caught your wrist with a stern ‘knock it off’, like you were a child, you’d resorted to pouting out the window, then sifting through his middle storage, and then snooping through his glove box.

All of which were boring, in the exact way that only a man’s truck could be boring. Who didn’t have a car Chapstick, but could have packs of gum hidden everywhere? And where were the just-in-case napkins? And what did he even use pliers for?

Your brattiness — no, curiosity — wins over the agitation that still simmers just under the surface. You turn to Scott with a mischievous grin as you hold up the pliers. “Be honest. Are you secretly a serial killer?”

Scott glances at you, then at the pliers, before rolling his eyes with a faint smirk. “Caught me,” he deadpans, his voice carrying just enough sarcasm to draw out your giggle.

“I knew it.” You dig further into his glove box like you expect to find a pair of gloves, which stupidly has you giggling because you’d lost your mind, see, and there was no way there’d actually— Oh. Shit. He really did have gloves. “You’re the worst serial killer I’ve met. Your whole murder kit is in here and you haven’t even tried to kill me yet?”

“Getting close to it, honey,” Scott quips, a teasing edge to his voice that makes your heart flutter. His eyes stay fixed on the road, but you catch the slight twitch of his lips, betraying his amusement.

Until you keep it up, making an exaggerated show of pulling out every item you find, each discovery more dramatic than the last. The subtle tightening of his jaw tells you that rummaging through his stuff is getting more of a rise from him than your earlier silence had. His grip on the steering wheel tightens, the whites of his knuckles glowing under the moonlight, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of satisfaction at the sight.

Curling your knees to your chest with his newest item in your lap (a bundle of zip ties), you bat your lashes up at him with feigned innocence. “Am I bothering you, baby?”

“Nope.” Scott, to his credit (you pretend it’s not because you’re his girlfriend but because he just chooses to be kind), swallows down whatever shitty retort is on the tip of his tongue as he shakes his head. “Not at all.”

His eyes flick briefly to you, then back to the road, as if anchoring himself, before he plasters one of his obnoxiously fake smiles on that doesn’t reach his eyes. Your own smile slips at the blatant irritation bubbling just beneath the surface, hating that look, knowing he knew you hated when he was fake with you. He reaches over, his hand finding your knee — not in the usual affectionate squeeze, but more as a grounding gesture, a silent plea for you to stop before you push him too far.

“You might want to close that now,” he adds, his voice soft but laced with an unmistakable edge as he jerks his chin toward his still-open glove box. “Before I really lose my patience.”

“But...” you start, pouting a little, your fingers lingering on the edge of the glove box. “I was just having fun. I mean, what else could be in here? Secret spy gadgets? Hidden treasures?”

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens. His patience is fraying, each word clipped and precise as he says, “Close. It. Now.”

You relent, closing it with a dramatic flourish and an equally exaggerated sigh. “Okay, okay. Glove box exploration time is over.”

Scott exhales, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Thank you,” he mutters, though his eyes still carry a hint of irritation as he changes the radio station a couple of times, scowling at the country crooning through his speakers, before just shutting it off.

“You sure you’re okay?” You test, still pushing his limits. You figured that Scott knew you better than that. That you knew him better than that. Nearly seven months together — again, not that you were counting — and he really thought you couldn’t tell when something was off?

You continue, “Just because… Well, you seem a little stressed. Is it because you didn’t get to tie me up and torture me back there by the pond? I mean, I’m sure you’ll get another chance someday, like when cows fly, but—”

“Are you done?” Scott huffs, shooting you a look.

You don’t back down from it, leveling him with your own hard expression. When he’s forced to return to the road, breaking eye contact first, that prideful part of you purrs. He sighs. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but I don’t have any other choice. So sit down, shut up, and stop fucking with my system, please.”

He says the last through gritted teeth, and as much as you loved to antagonize him, you knew when to push and when to not. Putting the last of the stuff back where you’d found it exactly how you’d found it, you stuff your hands under your thighs and pout quietly until he visibly relaxes again.

“You’re not being very nice,” you mumble, the silence that encases you both too much to bear.

Scott runs his tongue over his teeth, then looks over at you, his expression hard. “And you’re lucky I haven’t spanked your ass raw for that attitude yet.” Surprise must flash across your face, because a smirk twitches at the corner of his mouth that he quickly masks. “What? Did you think I would just let all that slide?”

“No.”

Maybe.

“Liar.”

Damn it.

Before you can say anything else, Scott reaches over, gently but firmly tilting your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze as his eyes leave the road for a second. “Do I need to remind you of the rules?” he asks, his tone shifting from frustrated to something far more controlled and deliberate — each word laced with a quiet authority that sends a shiver down your spine and makes your blood run hot.

It’s a tone you’ve come to know all too well, one that signals a subtle shift in the dynamic between you, a reminder of exactly who’s in charge.

To anyone else, it might have sounded like another classic Scott lecture — a stern word from someone who was used to being in control. But you knew this side of him intimately well, understood the depths of what he was really asking. This wasn’t just about a conversation or setting you straight; it was a command, a subtle but potent assertion of the power he held over you.

“Answer me,” he prompts, his voice dropping to a low, steady hum that makes your pulse race. “Yes or no, honey.”

“No,” you breathe, testing the waters of defiance.

“Let’s try that again.” Scott’s grip remains steady on the wheel, but the weight of his gaze feels like a tightening hold around you. “No, what?” he asks, his voice low and demanding, leaving no room for anything but the correct response.

You swallow. The tension between you is thick and electric. “No, sir.”

He holds your gaze for a moment that feels like an eternity, long enough for you to actually worry about him being behind the wheel. But a quick glance at the road reassures you — he’s in complete control, staying perfectly between the lines, maintaining a comfortable distance from the cars ahead and behind.

His eyes flicker to your mouth, lingering there with a deliberate intensity. “We’ll see.”

A noise of discontent escapes you immediately when he returns to his side of the truck as if nothing happened, all the air leaving your lungs. We’ll see. That was it? No good girl? It’s a reprimand all on its own, defiance filling you quickly.

What was the point of his rules if he wasn’t going to listen to them?

First with his phone, which had gotten you here in the first place, and now this. You pout, crossing your arms as you glare at the car in front of you, hating everything about this weekend. God, you’d both been so exhausted from the drive to the campsite that you hadn’t even touched him like he’d promised you could **— **on top of the week he’d already instructed you not to touch yourself.

And now Scott was going to be buried in work again. He’d drop you off at home just to drive another hour or two to who the hell knew where, and from there it was back to the office to get the paperwork rolling, call the banks, pouring hour after hour into making sure this deal went through. All because Riggs had decided his time off was more important than yours.

But it wasn’t. You’d waited eons for this. And you were damned if you were going to let both him and Scott stop you.

Slowly, so slowly, you angle yourself toward your boyfriend, his eyes distant as he readjusts in his seat and fishes absentmindedly for a piece of gum to smack on. For a moment you can’t help but admire him, appreciating the way he filled out the seat, the way his jaw worked with the gum, how when he got lost in his thoughts and had a particularly interesting idea he swiped his fingers along his perfect, full mouth.

He was masculine without any effort, intelligent and calculating, and, despite this weekend, was the most attentive boyfriend you’d ever had.

And you ached for him.

Just that tone shift alone — from Scott to sir — had spiked your temperature, leaving you warm with the lack of air conditioning. You knew better than to reach for the knobs, even if the thought of him pinning your wrist down had your thighs pressing together. So you shift forward to unzip his jacket you’d stolen, meaning to shimmy it off, when you catch his eyes on you.

Instead of taking it off completely, you let the gray fabric bunch to your elbows. His eyes slide from the way it now sits on you to your white tank top before focusing back on the road, his gum making that unmistakable snap! he always did. “What’re you doing?” He asks, stealing another glance as you wriggle in the seat.

“Just hot, baby,” you hum, which wasn’t a lie.

But there’s no way to be subtle as you collect your hair into a ponytail and tie it with your scrunchie, just like there’s no way Scott can be subtle as he zeroes in on your hair being up or the fact that your tits jiggle with every bump or dip in the road. His hand flexes on the wheel, quick to snap his attention to the mirrors, as if he’d been checking them in the first place.

You bite back a smile.

By the time Scott is pressing on the brakes, an accident brings the two-lane down to one, one foot is propped up on his dashboard, your head turned to face him with every sigh that leaves your lips. With nothing to pull his attention now other than the slow crawl, his eyes catch yours again, his guard dropping as he falsely believes you’ve listened.

And that’s when you make your move.

“Baby,” you groan, wetting your lips as your fingers brush across his sleeve. Your other hand rests against your knee, slipping down along your thigh while you bat thick lashes up at him. “Can you turn the air on, please? I’m dying.”

“Mhm.” Scott does, following the invisible line your fingers paint across your skin as the air kicks on. The cool air is welcomed and the content noise that leaves you isn’t entirely fabricated. When his hand drops to rest on your thigh, you know he feels how flushed you are under his cold touch. And you know he feels you arch into it. “How’s that? Better?”

“’ Little.” Not even close, but you play it up now that you’ve got him. “Still too hot.”

“Sorry, honey,” Scott’s deep voice is genuine, frowning a bit as he squeezes your thigh. “Got it the lowest it can go. Need me to roll a window down?”

You shake your head. “It’d just bring all the hot air in.” Something he should’ve known, but you couldn’t blame him for being a little distracted. You press on, confident, still inflecting that whine in your voice. “Your hand feels good, though.”

His touch inches up your thigh in response, sure that he’s not even aware he’s doing it. As your touch moves in time with his, you drag your free hand across your chest, pressing against the leather of his seats and pushing a strap off your shoulder. The cool air directly hitting you causes a flurry of goosebumps to rise and your nipples to poke through the fabric, chest rising and falling as you make a show of overheating.

Scott snaps his gum again, removing his hand to tug gently on his jacket. “What did I say about going through my stuff?”

“Oh, you left it at my place. I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.” You try to play innocent, but the smile you give him is nothing short of mischievous as you intentionally arch up into his touch. “Do you want it back, sir?”

He’s quiet for so long that you think he’s returned to the road. Instead, his eyes are locked on the thin tank top that clings tight around you. A quiet hum echoes in the back of his throat as he runs his knuckles over the swell of your breast, dragging slowly across your nipple, before he seems to think better of himself and places both hands back on the wheel.

“Keep it.” He grunts, “It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Really?” Despite how you try to hide the happiness from your voice, you fail miserably. Scott didn’t offer many liberties, especially not with his personal belongings. You don’t let the distance keep you far, unhooking your seatbelt and leaning over the center divider to beam up at him.

“Really.” Your heart pitter-patters in your chest when he hums again, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. His eyes slide back to the road, still at a slow crawl. “Don’t get any ideas, honey.”

Oh, you had about fifty different ones, most of which included seeing how far you could go down this new avenue. You drop a kiss to his shoulder, nuzzling against his cold skin, slipping your arm through his and guiding his hand back to your thigh. Scott squeezes again, a small warning to behave. But since when did you do that?

“Come on,” he taps an index against you after a few minutes, “Buckle up. Safety first.”

“But—” You pout, wrapping your arm around him tighter. He could drive with one hand, and besides, you were barely moving enough for a seatbelt to matter. “You feel so nice. And you’re always away for sooo long, baby. And now you’re gonna be gone again?” Brushing your nose along his jaw, you let your hand drop casually to his thigh. “I just miss you.”

“It’ll only be for a few days.” He shifts under you, chewing his gum slower. No doubt weighing whether he should let this continue or end it early.

“A few days too many.” You feel him inhale as your touch roams, sliding over his muscled thigh and across the zipper of his jeans. He’s already half-hard, the outline of him growing more apparent as you continue, “Do you know how lonely it gets without you? Knowing I can’t cuddle you… Kiss you… Touch you?”

You grope him where you know his weak point is while leaning up to scrape your teeth against his earlobe. His hips lift of their own accord as he instinctively searches for more, his grip on the wheel tightening as he squeezes your thigh in his big hands.

You hide your smile as he thickens under your palm. And smile wider at the growl in his voice as he orders, “Behave.”

“Am I breaking any rules, sir?” With your lips at his ear, every needy breath against him has Scott tensing in response.

Your shorts ride up — and so does his hand, until he’s close enough that you can grind your clothed heat into him. It’s just a single roll of your hips, keeping pressure where you crave him, but it has you whining all the same.

“Please, I missed you so much… I miss touching you, feeling how big you are in my hands…” You drag your palm against his thick length, fully straining against his zipper now, his breath coming out heavy as you grip him. “Please, please, just let me taste you. I’ll be such a good girl, I promise. Wouldn’t I look so pretty with your cock stuffed down my throat? Sounding so pretty as I choke on you?” You whimper against him, the sound small and needy. “Please, sir?”

The combination of your fingers wrapped around him and the feel of your tongue lapping at that sweet spot on his neck has Scott groaning, the noise coming from deep in his throat. Before you can react, he presses you firmly back into your seat, keeping you pinned with his hand across your sternum while you try to fight against the distance he forces between you two.

“Behave.” His gaze meets yours, dark and heavy and no-nonsense.

Your cunt clenches at the authority in his tone, nipples peaking in response. Scott slips his palm under the fabric of your shirt, kneading your heaving chest and rolling the hardened nub between his index and thumb. You writhe at the sensation, a moan spilling out of you, until he pinches you hard enough that you gasp. Just as quick as it happens, he pulls out just enough to bring his palm down roughly against your tit.

The sting of the impact has you arching off the seat as your cry pierces the silence.

Scott presses his index to your mouth in warning as the police lights finally illuminate his truck, the accident off to the side. You’re breathing too heavy to pay attention to it beyond that, not caring about anything happening outside of this truck, and you pass by quickly without any incident.

The air is still heavy as you meet his gaze. And you can’t help when your fingers grip the sides of your shorts to bunch the material in your hands, greedily grinding into the taut seam aligned perfectly with your center.

Scott watches it all silently. “You want to be my good girl?” His fingers draw invisible lines down your thigh, spreading your legs apart with just a touch. You comply easily, nodding as he smooths his hand along your skin and ignites a fire inside you. “Then fucking act like one.”

There’s no warning when he slaps your pussy hard, the denim digging painfully into you. Your hands fly out to grip whatever you can as your hips stir against the pain, crying out as another smack sounds, punishing your disobedience.

And still, you can’t help but whine out for him. “But I need you! I’ve been so, so good this whole time, I swear. Even when you told me not to touch, even when I wanted to so badly— I listened, I swear I did.” Pouting over at Scott, you whimper. “Please, I promise.”

“Go on. Keep it up. Do you think you’re listening now?” His hand tightens to a fist as he rests it hard against the center divider. His gaze pings to the time display on the dashboard, then to you. “The more you misbehave, the longer you wait. Was a week too short, honey? Do we need to extend it to two? Three? Can you even wait that long without disobeying me again?”

You can barely answer, only whimpering out as you press yourself into his arm, careening out of the seat. His hand clasps hard around your wrist when you reach for his zipper again, cutting off whatever noise is in your throat with a low growl.

“If I have to pull over,” he grits out, looking you dead in the eyes, “You won’t be able to walk for a week.”

You level his hard gaze with your own even as your heart pounds heavy, his threat thinly veiled as his grip tightens around your wrist.

And you swear you don’t mean to, but the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. “Can you go that long without fucking me? If I can’t touch, neither can you. Not a kiss, not a hug, I won’t even let you fuck my mouth!”

As your frustration boils over, you breathe raggedly against yourself, fighting to rip your hand out of his strong grasp. He’s quiet as he watches you, the look in his eyes betraying nothing that simmers underneath the surface.

Calmly, too calmly, he continues driving, following the road as the dark trees pass you by. When he moves off the pavement to turn down a dirt road, your heart flies to your throat.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, looking behind you as if expecting anyone else to follow, but it’s just you on the solitary single lane, his tires crunching on the dirt road. “Scott?”

His mouth stays shut, turning into a clearing of trees. You usually love the outdoors, but the forest around you looks foreboding and eerie, the trees looming large overhead. You glance out the window to the night sky, but there’s not even a twinkle of starlight here. Just inky black nothingness.

He shuts the engine off, taking the headlights with it.

You think you stop breathing.

“Get in the back.” His order is quiet against the silence but travels along your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Now.”

As much as you want to protest, the words catch in your throat, refusing to form. Instead, you wordlessly climb over the center divider, dropping his zip ties into the cupholder with a deliberate clink. Your bags, shoved angrily into the back when he’d asked you to pack up, tumble to the floor, landing in a haphazard pile as you settle into the backseat.

The sudden darkness engulfs you, your eyes straining to adjust to the dim light. You can barely make out Scott’s silhouette, his intense gaze fixed on you before he opens his door with a determined click.

Silently, Scott slips out of the driver’s seat, the slam of each door echoing through the night like a final verdict. You hold your breath as he rounds the truck, each crunch of his boots against the twigs and leaves sounding louder than meant to be. The backseat door opens, and he slides in beside you, the leather creaking softly under his weight.

You find your breath again when his hand, warm and steady, smooths around your ankle, his touch both grounding and possessive. He makes room for himself, his presence filling the confined space with an electric charge. The air grows thick with anticipation as you sit there, the darkness around you deepening, your heart pounding in your chest.

Scott’s fingers trail up your leg with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and controlled. His eyes never leave yours, the intensity of his gaze holding you hostage. “You didn’t think I’d let you off that easily, did you?” he murmurs, his voice low and commanding, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your eyes dart to either side of you, searching for some sort of escape. But it was too dark outside to see, the woods maybe terrified you a little bit without Scott by your side, and even if he chased after you — and you weren’t bratty enough to do that — you had absolutely no idea how to get back to a road, let alone the road.

And, well, you didn’t really want to get away from him. Just the punishment you knew he would dole out for your disobedience.

Still—

“I thought we had to get back to the city,” you squeak out, voice trembling against your better efforts as you try to plead your case to deaf ears, “Riggs– Riggs said you needed to be back, right? And you know how far my place is from your office, and—”

“We have time for this,” Scott interrupts, his voice firm, a low rumble that leaves no room for argument. He presses his index to the pout of your mouth, silencing you. It sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath hitching as you squirm under his grip, eyes wide and pleading.

If you were a deer in headlights, Scott was a hunter. And he was a damn good hunter.

Scott’s beautiful mouth curves into a grin, his eyes darkening with a hint of amusement. He leans in closer, his presence overwhelming, the scent of leather and the outdoors mingling with his intoxicating scent. The tension in the air thickens, every sound amplified by the stillness of the night. The rustling leaves outside, the distant hoot of an owl, even the faint hum of the truck’s cooling engine — all seem to echo the pulsing beat of your heart.

You can feel the rough texture of his jeans against your skin as he shifts, making himself comfortable, his body pressing against yours in the confined space. His hand, warm and commanding, moves from your mouth to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips.

“You’re not going anywhere until I say so,” he states, his eyes gleaming, all possession and affection. His words wrap around you like a promise, binding you to this moment, to him.

You swallow hard, your throat dry, the gravity of everything sinking in. Scott’s eyes lock onto yours, a silent command for your complete attention. His other hand slides down your arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake, before settling on your waist, pulling you even closer.

“Relax,” he whispers, his breath warm against your ear. “You’re safe with me.”

Your lashes flutter as a noise sounds in the back of your throat, caught between a plea and a whimper. You trusted Scott more than anything, and knew, without question, without fear, that he would never do anything you didn’t want.

And god, you wanted him bad enough that it ached.

“I need you to understand a few things, honey,” Scott continues, his voice still that deadly calm, his finger dragging slowly down your chin, tracing a deliberate path down the column of your throat. “I can tolerate you being upset. I’m not happy about it, either, despite what you might think.”

He pauses for a moment, letting his gaze lock onto yours, his eyes dark and unwavering. “But what I won’t tolerate,” he says, his tone sharpening as he closes his hand around your throat with a possessive grip, “is your disrespect.”

“But—”

“Shut up.” Scott’s voice is a low, dangerous growl as he tightens his hold on you, his thumb pressing firmly into your pulse. The pressure is confident and calculated — the kind of control that comes from having done this countless times before. “I’m not done.”

Defiance bubbles up and fights Scott at every turn, and despite the way you wriggle under him, your eyes grow hazy with need at the feel of his hand around your throat. God, you knew exactly what those hands were capable of; sweet, delicious torture, doling punishment and reward with equal passion. “But—”

“Why can you never fucking listen?” His voice drops to a growl that vibrates against your ear, his body shifting so that his weight presses down on you. You whimper at the added pressure, your fingers instinctively fisting the fabric of his shirt, trying to hold onto something solid.

Scott notices. With a swift motion, he knocks your wrists away, gripping both of them together with a firm, unyielding hold. When he pins them above your head, possessive and commanding, you can’t help but moan, growing pliant under his weight.

“Maybe I do need to remind you of my rules,” he says, his voice a dangerous purr, “since you seem to like breaking them.”

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your cheek. Every word is low and steady, completely in control. “You’re going to pay attention now, aren’t you? You’re going to listen to every word I say.”

Your pulse races under his thumb, the pressure making it difficult to focus on anything other than the commanding presence of his body pressed against yours. The conflicting emotions — fear, need, frustration — swirl together, drawing the breath from your lungs.

Scott’s eyes meet yours again, the dark intensity he’d first set on you softening slightly. “Do you trust me?” He asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, carrying with it both a challenge and an invitation.

“Yes, sir,” you breathe. Always.

“Good.” He presses a tender kiss to your temple and cheek, nudging his nose into the curve of your shoulder and kissing the column of your throat. Your body responds in kind, arching up into his generosity, the calm before the storm, as he slowly releases his hold on you. One tap against your wrist is a silent order to keep them there, and you thread your fingers together, looping them into the door grip as he kisses his way back up to your mouth. “Because you’re going to hate me tonight.”

You want to tell him that such a thing is impossible — there was nothing Scott could do that would make you hate him, no matter how much of a pain in the ass he was sometimes — but he doesn’t give you a chance to speak. Lifting you up, or at least as much as he can in the truck with his hulking size, Scott draws a hand around the curve of your waist, pushing his jacket aside to expose more of you.

“Take this off.” He orders. His expression melts back into one of superiority, one you’re all too familiar with, and you try not to pout when he continues with, “I changed my mind. I want it back.”

“Want what back?” You hum, fingers twitching. You debate the pros and cons of pointing out that you can’t take off his jacket with your hands still pinned in place, but bite your lip instead. You were already pushing the envelope — a lot — by feigning innocence.

“You know what.” Sensing that you’re still… sort of… listening, Scott, taps your wrist twice, freeing you of your position. Under his tone, your fingers close around the material of his comfortable clothing, lifting to slip it fully off your frame. You drop it next to your stuff with your eyes trained on his. “When I’m convinced you can behave, I’ll consider giving it back.”

That snaps your mouth shut. Pressing your lips together, you nod as you place your hands back in their previous position, the only tell that he’s satisfied by your change of heart being a slight twitch of a smile.

“I didn’t say you were done,” he drags his gaze along the length of you, his touch following where his eyes roam until he hooks a finger around the belt loop of your shorts. “Take these off, too, and turn around.”

Electricity charges through you at the command in his voice. Your movements are slow, careful, as you try not to bump into anything as you slide out from under him and remove your shirt. Your shorts follow, but he stops you as you hook your thumbs under the waist of your panties, both of his large hands sliding on your hips to face you opposite him.

He’s massive against you, your back pressing against his chest as his hands roam freely, trailing up the length of you and then down your arms to place your hands back in their previous position, fingers curling around yours in a silent gesture. And then his touch returns, calloused fingertips dragging over every spot of your soft skin, cupping your breast in his hand as he sighs against your neck.

You feel the hard length of him straining against his jeans as he pulls you to him, every caress coaxing a fire in you. Even though you want nothing more than to touch him, to take him into your hands, he has you caught. You really wanted that jacket.

And you hated disappointing him.

His touch wanders to your ass, squeezing the flesh in his hand before he smooths a hand up your spine, signaling for you to bend over. You comply with shallow breaths, the warmth of him missing when he puts even more space between you.

“How many times do you think you disobeyed me tonight, honey?” He asks, the question making your heart stutter. He continues to knead your skin, but with your angle, you can’t see anything happening behind you. “I’ll let you guess.”

You try to think back, but everything is hazy now. When you got in these moods — which was more often than not — you had a hard time telling which rules were broken and which weren’t, because, well, you tended to do it a lot. And you knew Scott well enough by now that even if you guessed any number, it wouldn’t be specific. It wouldn’t be right. Guess lower, and he’d add more. Guess higher, and he’d use your number, then remind you of the true one after it was all said and done.

A gasp escapes from you as your eyes flutter shut. Fuck. “I– I don’t know, sir.”

If he’s surprised, he doesn’t let it show. Instead, he just hums, adjusting the twisted straps of your underwear higher up on your hips. “Thirty-two times.” He lets that sit heavy in the air for a moment, your breath stalling in your throat. “You know what happens when it gets that high, honey.”

“You use the belt,” you whisper, the words barely audible.

Scott nods. “Mhm. I use the belt.” The soft, metallic clink of his buckle coming undone is followed by a steady hand against your hip, smoothing circles along your skin as you begin to tremble in anticipation. “Shhh. You know the rules. Count.”

The first point of contact is always the worst. He lets the moment play out, your body tensing and easing as you wait for any sign that it’s coming, but he gives no indication when he stops touching you. And then the sharp sting as leather meets your rear, the folded-over halves biting into you with practiced efficiency.

Your eyes squeeze shut, fingers tightening around the handle as you gasp out, “One.”

By the end, your muscles are taut and your backside is red and flaming, your whimpers spilling freely from your mouth. It takes more effort than you’d like to admit to hold yourself up, trembling with exertion. Scott rubs his hand along your curves, having given equal attention to both cheeks, a content noise sounding in the back of his throat as you still careen toward him.

“Last one, honey. You’re doing so good.” He praises quietly, the only encouragement you need as his belt goes sailing toward you again, leaving another welt in its wake.

“Thirty-two!” Escaping through gritted teeth, you jerk forward with the impact, breathing hard and heavy when you hear the clink of his belt falling to the floor.

Scott taps twice along your stomach as he brings you up to his chest, careful to leave space between you as he smooths over your sore muscles, easing the pain. He presses kisses along your throat, your shoulder, letting you shake against him as you lulls you down from the high, every touch soft and affectionate. “That’s it, I know… Shhh… Did so good for me, honey…”

Each sweet nothing brings you down, continuing to press kisses against your skin until your breathing evens out. Scott sets his hands to your hips, holding you firmly, nudging the space just behind your ear.

“If you just listened, I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He reminds, letting your hands drift over his. Despite the softness of his tone, you still catch the authority seeping through every word, and you know it’s far from over. “I don’t like how you spoke to me today, honey.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” you breathe, meaning them truthfully. Scott presses another kiss to your skin in acknowledgment. “I was just upset. I wanted to spend this weekend with you, and—”

“Am I not making this time now?” He questions, cutting you off. When his touch wanders between your thighs, fingers circling your clothed clit, soaked despite his brutal treatment, he groans against you. “What was it you said earlier… That I couldn’t touch you? That you wouldn’t let me?”

Vaguely, through your hazy mind, you remember saying that. But you keep your mouth shut, quiet little noises escaping as he continues to please you, easing away the pain he’d caused. Your desire for him, so neglected because of his orders, coils deep inside you as he recites your perfect tempo — having spent hours exploring, learning, and committing what you enjoyed to memory.

“Let’s make one thing abundantly clear,” he continues. “Every part of you is mine to touch, spank, suck, lick, and fuck as I please. Any time. Any day. Any place. Those are the rules you agreed to. If I want you just like this…” Adding pressure, he holds you up as your knees buckle against him, “I will, for as long as I want. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Your words come out shaky, breath hitching with every skilled circle of his fingers. “I understand, sir.”

“Then show me you understand.” Within a second his touch is gone, leaving you delirious as you search for him. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you, twisting to watch him slip off his shirt, then ease himself down on the backseat with a foot firmly planted on the floor. His fingers hover over the button on his jeans, flipping it open as his dark gaze trains on you. “Come here.”

You comply immediately, drawing forward as his hand slips in your hair. Scott pushes down the restricting fabric, slipping his hand into his black briefs, freeing himself from his jeans. Your mouth waters at the sight of him, thick and veiny and dripping with precum, his fist stroking himself as he holds you there, coating his length with his desire.

“Look what you do to me,” he whispers, drinking in every shallow breath, the way your eyes remain fixed on his hand, how your hips stir with every twist like you imagining yourself riding him. “Even when you’re a fucking brat, I can’t get enough of you, honey. Always so fucking hard for you. You have no idea…” He releases himself to cup your chin, spreading himself over the swell of your mouth. You greedily taste what he offers, tongue lapping at him before sucking on the tip of his thumb. “I’d spend an eternity inside you if I could.”

Those words — the claim, the rare admission — makes your heart somersault in your chest.

Without waiting for his command, you crawl between his legs and sink to draw your hand along his jean-clad thigh, a silent plea echoing in your eyes. As he wets his lips, you grip his length in your hand, his girth barely allowing you to wrap fully around him. Scott’s breath hitches as you stroke him exactly how he prefers, your hand sinking lower with each slow, deliberate movement.

He’s hot and heavy in your hand, the tip of his cock as pink as his lips, and you pay special attention to it, thumb smoothing along the sensitive underside of him. The soft action has his hips bucking up into your touch, breath hissing between his teeth as he wraps your hair around his fist.

No matter how many times you were in this position, nothing changed how exhilarating it was to have brief a moment of power over him.

When you move to take him into your mouth, your tongue flat and eager, Scott wraps his fingers around your throat, that playful glint in his eyes replacing quickly with hellish intent.

“Did I tell you that you could touch?” He murmurs, releasing his grip on your hair to pluck your hand off him.

You want to point out that he didn’t seem to have a problem with that when he’d been half-thrusting into your hand, but the look in his eyes silences the retort on your lips. So you let him grip your wrist, and your throat, sure he can feel the heavy pound of your pulse as you whimper at the interruption.

“I just want a little taste,” you plead, jutting your bottom lip out and batting your thick lashes up at him through a heavy-lidded gaze.

Scott just shakes his head. And you feel the coil of defiance begin again.

“Don’t you want my tongue on you, sir? Licking up every thick inch of you? Seeing how much I can take in my hot little mouth?” You know you’re pushing it with how his grip on your wrist tightens, but fuck, you needed to feel him, to touch him, especially after he’d denied you the pleasure of it for so long.

You shift so your free hand wraps around his shaft again. Scott grunts as he watches you play with him, your small hand moving effortlessly along his girth. With both his hands occupied, he has nothing to stop you from doing what you want, what you need, as your gaze flickers down to openly admire his masculinity. “Don’t I look so pretty when I choke on you, baby?”

Despite how his gaze darkens and he twitches in your hand, Scott releases your wrist enough to rest his hand on the edge of the backseat, his brow raising. “You’d look prettier if you listened, sweetheart.”

The condescending nickname rolls through you, your face twisting in disgust at it — he knew you hated it, knew it reminded you of the old men who often tried to make passes at you. It disgusts you enough that you release him from your grip, watching a smile slowly spread on his face.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you whisper, not trusting your voice to sound weak with his fist still around you.

“And I thought I told you to listen, but you don’t seem to be doing a good job of that even after the belt.” He shifts his grip from the front of your neck to the back of it, pulling you closer. “What’s my name?”

You hesitate at how hard his gaze is trained on you. “Sir.”

He nods. “And what did you call me earlier?”

Oh. As the dots connect, realization flickering across your features, Scott’s eyes mirror your understanding. He doesn’t give you a chance to say it, continuing, “Until you can learn to listen, you don’t get to cum until I say so.”

You wait for a day, an end time, something that’ll make counting the days at least a little worthwhile — but it never comes. Instead, he just stares at you, waiting for you to defy him again, waiting for you to open your mouth, to push back. But his fingers twitch like he’s going to reach for his belt again, and the thought of that on your already raw backside makes a whimper escape.

“I understand, sir.”

His gaze softens for a moment — and a small part of you hopes that he changes his mind, that he’ll take it back… But Scott was never that type of man. Once something was final, it was final. No amount of begging or pleading could win your case.

He cups your face in his hands like he knows what he’s asking may push you past your breaking point. Never in the months you’ve been together has he implemented something indefinitely, but you’ve never pushed back this much. When his mouth roams over yours, gentle given the circumstances, you taste the sharp spearmint of his gum as his tongue explores you, soothing your whimpers and whines until you’re somewhat relaxed under his touch.

“Are you going to be a good girl if I let you blow me, honey?” He asks, lips ghosting over your mouth, your jaw, pressing a kiss against the column of your throat. You nod, not trusting your voice. “I mean it. No whining. No pleading. No biting.” His gaze flickers up to yours as a memory passes through both of you, your cheeks heating up, caught. He knew you too fucking well. “If I want you to choke on me, you’re going to choke. If I want you to wrap those pretty lips around my head, you will. And if I want your mouth not on me at all…”

“I’ll listen, sir,” you promise, breathless, squirming with need.

Scott’s eyes flash with approval, pressing one more kiss to your mouth before he settles back down against the leather. You follow, slow, cautious, your hands pressing into his thighs as he grips himself.

And when you wrap your lips around him, everything else fades away. You take him at his pace, slower than you would prefer but dutifully obeying his silent instructions, your hair coiled around his fist. The taste of him on your tongue has your eyes glazing over with desire, flickering up to watch him watch you, your head bobbing around his length, spit sliding down his shaft as he makes you take him deeper, deeper, until he’s hitting the back of your throat and there’s still inches between you.

Scott groans as he pushes you further, trained on how your body instinctively fights him, taking his cock entirely in your mouth when your nose brushes the soft skin of his abdomen. Your core drips with need, soaking your panties, at the guttural sound that escapes him: all masculine and intoxicating. You crave more of it, more of his approval, more of him — but he pulls you off with a pop, a trail of saliva traveling from his swollen head to your mouth, before doing it again and again, each time longer than the last.

“So fucking good,” he pants, pulling you off him again, his eyes blown as you suck on his tip like a lollipop.

Your tongue swirls around his head, wrapping your hands around the rest of him that you don’t swallow, little moans escaping.

And then he’s pressing you back down again, his grip holding you stationary as he thrusts into you like he can’t help himself, every action powerful and erotic as the sound of your throat taking his vigorous pace fills the truck. As he fucks your mouth, you knead your breast in your hand, pinching hard at your nipple when the desire to slip your hand between your thighs nearly overcomes you.

Scott watches it all with a growing arousal, his voice deep as he groans. “Fuck, honey, just like that. Want you to remember this next time you think of talking back,” he says, eyes closing briefly at how good you feel. “So fucking perfect with my cock down your throat. Does that make you hot, honey? Wanna rub that fucking clit while I fuck your face?”

You moan around him in response, something between a yes and a please that sounds more muffled than an actual word. Every time you take him deeper you feel that hot flash of aching desire pulse through you, your blood hot, sure that even through your panties you were dripping all over his leather seats.

The thought has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Scott’s growls turn positively primal as he pulls you off. “Keep making that face and I’m gonna cum right down that pretty throat.” He lifts enough to bring you to your knees, wrapping an arm around you to pull you flush against him as he drags his heavy touch along your naked frame. “You don’t want that, do you, honey? Fuck, I can smell how soaked you are for me.”

He wastes no time as he slips his hand beneath your panties, fingers sliding easily between your slicked folds as he groans. “My dirty girl. You like my filthy fucking mouth, honey, is that it?” Scott pushes a finger inside you, your body arching up into his as you nod, a breathy noise escaping. “Like when I tell you how good you feel? How fucking hard it gets me? How I dream about fucking you every single night when I’m away?”

God, yes. You assumed — but never asked — about what he thought when he couldn’t be near you, but the confirmation that you were on his mind just as much as he was on yours makes you clench around his finger.

“I’m gonna taste you,” Scott promises, his voice ragged. “And then I’m gonna fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the city.”

It’s all the warning you get before he presses you down onto the seat, his mouth capturing yours as he settles atop you. Your body is pliant underneath his, gripping every inch of him, while he trails his mouth along your soft skin. Fuck, you felt like heaven to him — so smooth to his calloused hands.

And you made the prettiest noises when his mouth descended on your nipple, sucking and flicking at the hardened nub before giving equal attention to the other, all too aware of how your hips roll helplessly as he kisses his way down your tummy.

“I love how desperate you get,” he groans, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties, drawing them down your legs. He nudges your legs apart with his nose, dragging his teeth along the sensitive skin of your thigh. Thick fingers spread your folds apart as he takes you in, the touch making you reach for something to hold onto.

“Please,” you whine, running your fingertips along his shoulder, propping yourself up as he sucked a possessive mark into your thigh. Scott just hums, moving to the other, relishing in the sharp intake of breath as he nips at you. “Please make me feel good, sir?”

“You gonna be good for me?” He asks again, blue eyes flicking up to meet yours, his question serious as he nears the apex of your thighs.

You nod, tongue darting out between your lips as his focus momentarily breaks, darting down to watch how his fingers slide effortlessly over you, teasing your clit. “I’ll be good, sir, I swear.” Just as long as he keeps touching you like that, you’ll agree to anything.

Scott hums, playing with you for long enough that you think he’ll tease you into oblivion. But then his tongue darts out. licking a hot stripe up your center, and he groans, and you… You have just enough time to fall back to seat before his mouth is upon you.

The way he claims you with his tongue makes the wait worth it. Scott isn’t shy about feasting on you, his wet fingers slipping to spread your thighs further apart for him, lapping at you like your pussy is a melting ice cream cone on a hot summer day. Every swirl of his tongue, every flick against your clit, every long drag that has you gasping for breath, your mouth falling open while he readjusts his grip to keep you steady.

Scott groans as he collects your desire on his tongue, pulling back enough to revel at how spread open you are for him. He spits, the lewd action making your head spin, before his fingers rub it through your folds, circling your entrance while his other reaches up to knead your breast.

“I wish we had hours for this.” The admission is low in his voice, ragged from claiming you, pressing a kiss to your thigh as you try to still your hips against his torturous fingers. “Just as sweet as I remember, honey. Better. Fuck, you taste so…”

He doesn’t finish his thought, descending upon you again as his mouth attaches to your clit. You cry out at the special attention he gives it, teasing you just right, his tongue swirling and flicking and lips closing around the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips move on their own accord, fingers digging into his brown curls as you grind in time with his tongue. Scott gasps as his touch abandons you to stroke himself, the angle uncomfortable in the cramped space of his backseat.

You clamp down on your bottom lip when your orgasm builds faster than you expect it to, hoping to stifle the increase of noise as he brings you closer and closer. Scott just keeps his brutal pace, those dark blue eyes drinking in the sight of you.

“Sir—” Your breath comes out hot when he groans, the vibrations of it nearly toppling you over the edge. You want so desperately to listen, fighting the way he coaxes it quicker, something heady and mischievous sparkling in those eyes, but it’s too much, he’s too much, that invisible rubber band pulling tighter and tighter, your control slipping, the wet sounds of his tongue dragging over your heat too much to bear—

You scream out as Scott pulls away entirely from you, all that tension coiling tight with nowhere to release, and watch helplessly as his expression flickers somewhere between smug and disappointed. You tremble against the loss, little twitches that give away how close you were from disobedience, your whine high and keening.

“Oh, honey, were you close?” Scott coos, his tone full of condescension as he rests his cheek on your thigh, an evil, wicked, vile grin teasing the corners of his mouth. You glare at the dimple in his cheek. “You think I’m dumb enough to not know when you are? That your pussy doesn’t tell me when you’re trying to be quiet? I know all your tells, honey. Every. Single. One.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to reply, his palm coming down hard against your open heat. The slap has you spiraling, a cry escaping you as your back arches up off the leather, the pain lingering uncomfortably as your ass grinds against the seat. Scott wastes no time crawling up your body, swallowing all your pitiful noises as you taste yourself on his tongue.

His teeth sink into your bottom lip as he pulls away. “Not tonight, honey.”

Your heart seizes in your chest at the confirmation — having suspected it, but half-hoping that he’d forgive your past sins if you were good enough. Scott just grins, lifting so all his weight isn’t settled atop you, running his hands down the still-twitching frame of your body, pushing his jeans down further as one hand drags along your hip.

“Please?” You beg, taking his face in your hands, blinking big doe eyes up at him. “I can’t—”

“You can.” His confidence in you is unwavering, pausing his movements to give you his undivided attention. One kiss, two, three, to the corner of your mouth, each softer than the last, bringing you down from a high he stole away. “We’ll test those limits properly another time. I have so many ideas…” He trails off with a groan, seeming to think better of listing all the ways he could make you bend to his will. “But you can. And you will.”

A whimper escapes at the finality, but you manage a weak nod. It’s all the encouragement Scott needs to draw your leg around his hip, slotting himself between your parted legs. The weight of him dragging through your slicked folds presses a gasp into his shoulder, your arms sliding around his broad frame.

And then he’s sinking into you, stealing the breath from your lungs as your taut body stretches to accommodate his size.

He’s massive — and delicious and throbbing and every other perfect word in the dictionary as you forget how to breathe, how to think, the more he buries himself inside you. You hear his strangled moan against your neck as your head tosses back, pulling him closer, hissing as he draws back just to press right back into you.

He works you just like that for what feels like hours, pushing and pulling, slow as he presses kisses to your skin, holding your hips steady. You know he’s holding himself back, that he’s letting your body get used to him after so long apart, after little more than a press of his fingers and tongue at your entrance. It makes your heart flutter in your chest — he could have fucked his way ruthlessly through you and you would’ve taken every second of it just the same, but the fact that he pauses to take his time now, to lengthen a moment that he shouldn’t be having in the first place…

God. You loved him.

You both moan as he bottoms out inside you, his hips driving forward just a little further on instinct. “Fucking missed this,” Scott pants, careful as he slides a palm under you, lifting your ass off the seat to thrust inside you again. Your gentle touch trails across his broad shoulders and down his arms, a silent message for him to keep going.

And then he fucks you like he promised.

It’s a combination of everything: the time apart, the time you had left, how neither of you could seem to get close enough to each other. He splits you apart and brings you back together with every snap of his hips, filling you exactly how you need, gasping against each other as you angle up to meet him halfway.

Your mouth presses feverishly to his, the sound of your desperate moans filling the small space against the way your body greedily accepts his. Scott stalls his tempo just enough to pull away, sliding his hands back to your hips to lift you onto him before returning to his brutal pace, the new angle giving you a perfect view of his cock stretching you out.

“Being so good for me,” Scott hums, pleased, his fingers splaying over your belly as he ruts deeper into you. The intensity of it, of him, makes you blink back stars as his heady gaze is trained on yours, grabbing onto him as he continues, “Feels so fucking good, honey, fuck.“

Your eyes slip down to watch as he slides in you, the sight of him hard and coated with your arousal making you moan. Scott grips the back of your neck to keep you there, your body curled up into whatever mold he desires, pressing your knee back to the cushion as he shifts himself closer.

“Dirty fucking girl, you like that?” Scott’s voice turns guttural with how you tighten around him, your pretty moans like music to his ears, “Like watching your little pussy take my cock? Seeing how fucking good I stretch you out?”

You nod, another moan spilling from your mouth, only to whimper when he slides fully out of you. The crude smack of his cock against your clit only makes you hotter, your skin on fire as he plays with you, always in control. “Tell me,” he groans, teasing as he grinds himself against you. “Let me hear you, honey.”

“I love it,” you pant, unable to tear your gaze away from his thick length. You want desperately to reach down and press him where you crave him most, but you resist, fingers curling into fists at his sides as you plead, “Please fill me up, sir, I need it. Need you to fuck me, need you to claim me, need you to make this little pussy all fucking yours, please.”

It’s all Scott needs to press into you again, his pace hard and demanding with your wishes. He slides an arm underneath you to hold you steady, his teeth leaving marks on your neck, your shoulder, your collar, pressing moans into your skin with every rough piston of his hips, the sound of skin on skin, and your hard, labored breathing filling the space. And then he’s flipping you over, your hands and knees pressing into the leather as you push back against him, delirious with the new angle as he tugs you up, your back to his chest.

The possessive, strong grip on your waist slides up to knead your breast while he thrusts into you from behind, his lips at your ear, growling every profanity under the sun.

“This what you want, honey?” His hips snap hard into you, the contact against your sensitive ass making your eyes roll back into your head. The mix of the pleasure and the pain he gives you is unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. Scott always finds the perfect balance, his hand sliding between your thighs to tease your clit, your body wanton against him. “Being claimed? Owning you completely?” At your answering moan, he grins. “Could you handle it? Being mine in every way?”

“Yes,” you moan, trying in vain not to swirl your hips and failing, searching for more while he rolls your nipple between his fingers. “I’m already yours, sir.”

“Yeah, honey, I feel it.” They come out strangled as you clench around him, your body responding eagerly to every touch. “So sweet right now, aren’t you? Wanna cum so badly, don’t you?” You whimper out as he angles himself deeper inside you, hitting that spongey spot in time with his ministrations. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, as he finds the perfect pace to drive you closer to the edge, dangling just on the precipice of release. “Bet you’d agree to anything right now just to cum, wouldn’t you, honey?”

Head tossing back against his shoulder, you dig your nails into his jeans where you hold him to you, looking at but not seeing the reflection of how he commands you, his mouth drawing along your neck. “Please,” you beg, trembling with the exertion of holding yourself together. “Scott— Sir, please, I’m so close—”

“I know.” Cooed, mockingly, along the column of your throat, he ceases every torturous move as he stills inside of you, his hands quick to press your hips down against his. The sudden lack of attention makes you cry out, chest heaving, as he steals your orgasm away again, the frustration and desire mixing until you’re growling through clenched teeth.

Scott just grins, watching it all with a gleeful expression, that dark look swirling in his eyes as he doesn’t dare move an inch. “You can be as nice as you want, honey,” He presses a patronizing kiss to your shoulder, that alone having you twitching against him, small little sounds that you can’t control escaping as he toys with your fraying edges. “I’m still not letting you cum tonight.”

“But—” You think better against talking back, clamping your mouth shut as you whimper again. “When?”

“When you’ve earned it.” Scott slides his hands over your body, dragging along your peaked nipples, taking both breasts in his large hands and groaning as he touches you. “You want to earn it, don’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp automatically, your hands fisting handfuls of his brown locks as he sucks another possessive mark on you. “Please, sir.”

“How far would you go?” His voice carries that inquisitive tone that speaks of danger, the kind that has your cunt fluttering around him in response. He grunts against you at the sensation, still unmoving, just thick and hard and throbbing in you enough to leave your mind reeling. Your breath stalls when his touch wanders down to press at your belly. “Would you let me cum inside you?”

Every thought in your brain scatters at those words, wanting and needing before you can even voice it. He’s never asked; always pulling out to paint your chest, your back, your face. But the way he asks, his voice quiet yet desperate, the unmistakable edge to it that tells you he’s been thinking about it for a while, waiting for the right time, the right moment — suddenly his insistence on if you’d brought your birth control comes to the front of your mind, and you know. Know he’s been planning this. That if it weren’t here, it would’ve been sometime this weekend.

Scott is patient as he lets it all sink in, studying you, waiting for a shift of an expression, or your body responding against his desires. Something dark awakens in him at your whimper of approval.

“You’d look so fucking pretty like that,” he continues, slowly resuming his pace, much slower now than it was before, as he groans every fantasy he’s dreamt of for the past week into you. “So full of my cum… It wouldn’t all fit, would it, honey? But you’d beg me, wouldn’t you? Beg me to fuck it deeper in your sweet cunt?” Your breath labors as he grunts out, teeth sinking into your skin. “Beg me to put a baby in you?”

Fuck, yes.

You writhe against him with every word out of his mouth, your moans spilling freely as you nod, desperate, agreeable, unaware of how much he wanted it, obsessed about it. How the sight of you in his clothes made him want to put a ring on your finger, how every time you came over to his place he had to fight to ask you to move in, how the idea of your belly swollen with his child made him so horny he couldn’t think about anything else some days, how the thought of you and forever were so intertwined to him now that he couldn’t imagine anyone else to spend the rest of his life with.

All sappy, sentimental things that he didn’t dare voice, locked tight between his teeth, letting only a little spill out.

The need to own you, to claim you, was overwhelming. Scott wanted nothing more than to fuck you hard enough to make your brain flicker off until you couldn’t even speak, until you were completely at his mercy, until every drop of him was spent inside you. Possession and desire bleed into one — just waiting, aching, throbbing, bruisingly so, for your voiced consent.

“I need it,” you finally choke out, trembling, your voice utterly broken. “Please give it to me, sir? Please, please, pretty please?”

Scott moans, long and deep and loud, as he buries his face in the curve of your neck. And then he’s pounding into you, every muscle of his body pulled tight as you wrap around him like velvet perfection, his grip hard and unyielding against your hips as every rough slam of his hips into yours sends your body jolting forward. Your hand slaps to the window in front of you, leaving prints against the foggy glass, and he follows greedily, pressing his weight into you as he spreads your thighs further apart with a growl, fucking you into the seats.

Your orgasm painfully lingers, every needy moan spilling from your mouth only driving him further into you, wild with need, no longer the controlled man you knew but something more animalistic, primal.

“Fucking take it just like that,” he growls, not even sounding human, every word gritted through his teeth as you feel every thick inch of him around your slick walls, his hand slotted between your thighs to part your folds, sinking deeper until there’s no space left. “F-fuck, that’s so fucking— Perfect, honey, fuck— Pussy’s fucking made for me—”

He’s close — you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven as he chases his release, the way he roughly grasps your chin to kiss you, sloppy and more tongue than lips, how his fingers leave Scott-shaped bruises wherever he grips you, his blunt nails biting into your hip, your sides, your breasts as he struggles for purchase. You don’t realize you’re sobbing in pleasure until he wipes your tears away, until he praises how good you’re being taking him like this, groaning when your body responds eagerly to his positivity.

You dance in time with him, meeting him halfway, angling your hips up just right. And you feel, rather than hear, the way Scott moans in ecstasy as he finds that perfect spot in your heat, numb to anything and everything that isn’t his thick cock pounding your weeping, used hole.

You think you cum — or maybe it’s just the last shreds of sanity leaving as Scott reaches his peak, nothing but your eyes rolling to the back of your head as he fills you with his seed, rutting up against you until it’s painful, the warmth of him spreading into you. His heart pounds against you as he slips his hand to your belly, pressing you closer, his breath hot and ragged against your skin as his hips twitch until he’s emptied out, fucking the last drops of his cum into you exactly like he’s dreamt.

And when you come down your orgasm sits uncomfortably high and untouched, a broken sob escaping you as he pulls out with a wet pop.

You feel his cum slide down your swollen cunt and flinch with sensitivity as he’s quick to collect himself on his fingers, fucking it back into you. The tension coils tightly inside of you until you’re sure you’re begging him to stop, the pleasure and pain completely overwhelming, exhausted with the effort of obeying his orders as he presses his digits into your used hole.

When you think just about to break, he stops.

And you know you’re going to kill him as he steals your release for a third time.

“Good girl,” Scott whispers, pressing kisses along your soft skin, his hands soothing every part of your twitching frame. You don’t have the strength to ask for more as he pulls you into his arms after sliding your panties back into place, letting you come down as he finds his peace in caring for you, murmuring sweet nothings while your body is pliant against him.

You nuzzle into him when you feel more in control of yourself, your heart slowing to a more steady pace. His name falls softly from your lips, your arms snaking around him to hold him close, his fingertips soft along the small of your back.

When he presses his mouth to yours, you melt into his embrace, exploring him lazily until he’s pulling away, brushing your unruly hair out of your face. “Mine.” He praises with a smile, that dark expression gone, leaving nothing but bright, shining blues you could drown in for hours. “All fucking mine. I own you.”

“Mmm,” Despite the weary in your bones, you can’t help but smile back, a giggle escaping, “Do you?”

Scott doesn’t need to slip his hand between your legs for you to get the picture, just hooks a finger along the waistband of your ruined panties. “You just let me prove it, honey.” He leans forward to kiss you again, slower this time, before pulling away with a regretful sigh when the distinctive chime of his phone goes off. “Need help getting back in your seat?”

“Already?” You whine.

“Gotta go, honey.” He taps your hip, twice. Non-negotiable. “Come on, before the bears smell you and want you for themselves.”

That has you cracking a grin. “You wouldn’t fight a bear for me?”

“What do you think the murder kit is for?” One last kiss to your mouth. “’Course I would. Just not tonight.”

You pout further, but let him grab your long-forgotten clothes off the floor, making yourself presentable again before he does the same. And when you settle back into the passenger seat as he starts the engine, you let your head rest against the window, bubbly and content and happy. Even if you know it won’t last when he has to leave.

As Scott drives through the familiar city streets, you hate the knot of apprehension that clogs your throat when your mind wanders too far about him being gone. Out on the field, anything could happen, even if it was just one of his routine visits. The people he spoke with — if he approached the wrong one, it would be so easy for them to lash out. Scott was a big man, he could take care of himself, but that didn’t stop your fears from pressing down against you.

His hand is firm on your thigh, thumb stroking soft lines in your skin as he catches your expression. And then his truck takes a turn in the opposite direction of your apartment, heading toward his house.

“Where are we going?” you ask, your voice tinged with confusion as you try to shake off your emotions.

Scott’s grip on the steering wheel tightens just a fraction, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. “My place,” he answers simply. “You’ve been up all night, and I’m not about to drop you off and leave you alone like that.”

You frown, the earlier emotions fighting to come back; you glance quickly out the window, cheeks flaming as you’re caught, hating that he’d noticed your weakness. “I’m fine, Scott. I can—”

“No,” he cuts in gently, but firmly. “You need rest. And I’ll rest better knowing you’re somewhere comfortable.” His eyes flick toward you, catching your reflection in the dim light of the street lamps. “Besides,” he adds, his voice lowering to something more intimate, “I’ve got a bed that’s been missing you.”

It’s not a request, and the way he says it makes your heart skip. You know he’s right. As much as you’d wanted to protest, the thought of sleeping alone in your own bed feels wrong, especially with the lingering warmth of his touch still buzzing under your skin.

By the time you pull into his driveway, the familiar sight of his place is almost a comfort in itself. Scott’s fingers brush over your thigh before he parks the truck, a silent reassurance. “I’ll be gone for a few days,” he murmurs, shutting off the engine, “but I want you here. I want you safe.”

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with a meaning he’s too stubborn to say out loud, but you feel it all the same. He reaches over to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering on your cheek. “Let me make sure you’re okay.”

You nod, unable to find the words, so you just lean into his touch. Scott doesn’t need more than that. He’s out of the truck and rounding it to your side before you can even blink, opening your door and offering his hand.

“Come on, let’s get you inside,” he says softly, tugging you out and pulling you close against him. His arm slips around your waist as he guides you to the front door, his hold steady and reassuring.

Once inside, the warmth of his home envelops you both, and you feel the tension in your shoulders start to melt away. He’s quick to guide you to his bedroom, knowing the layout of his place better than anyone, but still taking the time to make sure you’re comfortable, handing you one of his shirts to sleep in.

As you slip under the covers, Scott pauses at the edge of the bed, eyes lingering on you. “Get some sleep,” he tells you, his voice gruff but tinged with affection. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You reach for him, and he doesn’t hesitate to slide in beside you, pulling you against his chest. For a moment, you both just lie there, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear soothing you into a drowsy haze. Scott presses a kiss to the top of your head, his hand resting protectively over your hip.

“Sleep, honey,” he murmurs, his voice the last thing you hear before sleep claims you.

In the morning, you wake to the sound of his alarm, the room still dark. Scott’s already dressed, but he hasn’t left yet. He sits on the edge of the bed, watching you with a softness in his eyes that he rarely lets show. He reaches out, brushing his fingers through your hair as you try to rustle yourself awake.

“Go back to sleep,” he says quietly, his thumb grazing your cheek. “I’ll be back in a few days. Promise.”

Before you can respond, he leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of his lips. You smile, eyes fluttering shut as you drift back into a peaceful slumber, the last thing you feel is the comforting weight of his hand slipping from yours.

When you finally rise, well rested but achey from the night’s exertions, the sun is high in the afternoon sky and his house is empty, his truck missing from the garage. You wander into the kitchen in search of a cup of tea, pulling the kettle out from underneath his cabinet. And when the steaming mug is in your hands, settling into the breakfast nook that overlooks his backyard, your eyes fall upon his jacket, folded neatly atop all the stuff he’d unpacked while you were sleeping.

And you know he loves you as much as you love him.

[lipglossanon]

Hey Pretty, Won’t You Take A Ride With Me?

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{previous installment} || {next installment}

stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, feelings are starting to happen 👀, dirty talk, flirting, jealous Leon, kissing, unprotected sex, fingering, creampies, breeding kink, boyfriend/girlfriend role play (it’ll make sense 😂), car sex, semi-public sex, pussy spanking/slapping, squirting, slight cockwarming

So so tired (finally back from vacation!) and wanted to get this out! 😘 so def not proofread 🤣

Title from Hey Pretty by Poe (also a nice remix)

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“What do you mean it’s family bonding?”

“That’s exactly what I meant, family bonding,” your mother sighs, exasperated with you already, “we’re all going out for the day to spend some quality time together.”

You groan, slumping down on yourself from where you sit on top of the kitchen counter. 

“Besides,” your mother ignores your eye rolling, “it’s the company picnic and they want us to bring our families. It’ll be a nice day!”

“But mom—“

“The car’s loaded up, so we’re ready when you are,” Leon’s voice cuts you off. 

You glare over at him and stick out your tongue, “Rude.”

He grins and flips you off, “It’s just my charm, Princess.”

You roll your eyes at him and turn back to your mom who’s finished grabbing her purse, “It’s gonna be so boring; you’re just going to end up schmoozing with your boss anyways.”

“Honey,” your mom sighs again, tugging your arm, “it’s not going to kill you to hang out with your family for the afternoon.”

You slide off the counter with a groan, “Fine.”

You look at Leon who’s staring at your thighs. With a frown you look down and see the tail end of the bruises he left on your skin the other night poking out from the edge of your shorts, making you quickly tug them down before your mom sees it. Leon’s eyes jump up to yours and he smirks. 

“How about this,” she points to Leon, “you two can carpool and after a few hours, I’ll let you leave the picnic early. We got a deal?”

You squint your eyes at Leon who only shrugs. 

“I’m game,” he gives you the fakest smile, “what do you say little sis.”

You purse your lips but slowly nod, “Sounds fine. And you promise we can leave early?”

Your mom laughs and gives you a one armed hug, “Promise, sweetie. Now c’mon we don’t want to be late.”

Leon waits and lets your mom walk out before falling in step with you.

“Aren’t you excited?” He teases you, his hand ghosting across your lower back and ass. 

“Cut it out,” you elbow his ribs. 

“Hurry it up you two!” Your stepdad calls from the front door, jangling his keys in hand. 

“Yeah, Leon,” you exit the front door first, Leon on your heels. 

Your stepdad closes and locks the door then tosses a second set of keys to Leon. 

“Just follow us and drive the speed limit.”

Leon nods, “I know the drill.”

Unlocking the car doors, Leon climbs into the driver’s seat while you get comfortable in the passenger. 

Your parents pull out of the driveway and honk. Leon huffs while rolling his eyes and you snort at his attitude. 

He side eyes you, “Play nice, princess.”

You bat your eyelashes at him, “I am nice.”

It’s his turn to snort, “Sure thing.”

With that, he pulls out onto the road and follows after your parents. 

It’s actually.. nice. The radio is tuned to a variety station and Leon lets you control the temp, blasting AC against the muggy heat outside. 

“Think it’s gonna rain,” you muse out loud.

Leon only hums in agreement, eyes on the road. This gives you the opportunity to take in his thick biceps and forearms. You press your thighs together when he drums his hands on the steering wheel, making his muscles and tendons flex. 

You bite the side of your thumb imagining those arms holding you up, pressing you against a wall and—

“Think there’s going to be a lot of people at this thing?”

Leon’s voice pulls you from your daydreaming. 

Blinking, you look at his side profile and shrug, “There usually is; we’ve been going to these for a few years now.”

“Oh?” he glances over at you, “well what can I expect?”

You sigh and turn your attention back to the window, “Just a bunch of ass kissing and lame family games. Same tired old shit that literally no one cares about.”

He laughs and you look back at him, eyebrows raised. 

“S’just cute is all,” he gives you a soft grin, “you don’t get so fired up all that often.”

“Shut up,” you grumble, fighting down your own smile, “you’ll see what I mean.”

You lapse into a comfortable quiet and before you know it, Leon’s pulling into the packed parking lot. He parks as close to your parents as he can and shuts off the car. You both get out and walk over to the trunk of your mom’s car. 

She comes around the side waving a blanket at you, “You two can grab this and go find a good spot in the shade.”

Leon bundles the blanket in his arms and motions for you to lead the way, “After you.”

Sighing, you guide Leon into the venue and trek over to where you usually setup at this company picnic. 

“Hey!” 

You both turn at the voice. 

You smile, “Oh hey, Steve.”

Steve walks up to you two, a big smile on his face, “Hi! I thought you were bailing this year.”

You roll your eyes, “I tried. Oh Steve, this is Leon. Leon, Steve.”

Steve waves excitedly, “Nice to meet you.”

“Sure,” Leon looks at him, dead eyed expression on his face, “c’mon princess, we gotta setup.”

“Yeah,” you smile at Steve as Leon tugs you away, “well I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

“See ya!” Steve calls out, catching a red haired girls attention and taking off in that direction. 

“So that’s Steve?” Leon grimaces. 

“Yep,” you pop the p on the end, “and if you notice the girl he’s latched onto, you’ll see that that’s Claire.”

His upper lip curls but he only pushes you to keep walking. You stifle a laugh and finish the walk over to the usual spot your family uses— it’s under a big tree on the edge of the venue, perfect for keeping out of the way or interest of anyone. 

As soon as you and Leon spread out the blanket, your mom and stepdad join you carrying a mini cooler filled with drinks. 

Your mom frowns at you, “Same spot as usual? I thought we’d try somewhere different this year.”

You fold your arms, posture stiff, “Nothing wrong with this spot.”

Your mom sighs but doesn’t argue any further. 

You see Leon look over at his dad who only mouths ‘I don’t know’. 

Your mom claps her hands and smiles, “Well, let’s go sign up for some group activities.”

You shrug and drop your hands to the side. Your mom grabs your stepdad’s arm and leads him over to the sign up table. 

“You good?”

You turn to Leon grabbing a water out of the cooler. 

“Yeah,” you wave your hand, “it’s nothing.”

His steady gaze makes you fidget and look down at your feet. 

“My dad and I picked this spot the first time we had to come to these,” you clear your throat, eyes glancing back up at him, “S’all it is.”

“Ah,” Leon’s expression softens. 

“Anyways, yeah, well now we have some dumb games to look forward to,” you rub your arms, “so, uh, might as well go join them.”

“Sure,” Leon drops the water bottle back into the cooler and falls into step with you. 

“So you probably know a lot of people here,” he nudges your arm. 

You groan in annoyance, “Too many. Bet you money that someone at some point is going to come to us and ask ‘oh aren’t you just the cutest! I remember when you were this tall!’,” you bring your hand up and hold it even with your waist. 

“Stop,” Leon shakes his head, “there’s no way someone is actually going to say that phrase.”

You smile cheekily at him, “You’ll see.”

You both meet up with Leon’s dad and watch as your mom finishes signing in with a volunteer. She walks over with little wrist bands in her hand. 

“One for each of you!” she hands them out, blue for your mom and stepdad and green for you and Leon. 

“Great,” you deadpan. 

“Honey—“

“Oh my gosh, I haven’t seen you in ages!! How have you been?”

An older woman cuts your mom off and gives her a quick hug. 

“Good, good!” Your mom practically beams, “how have you been?”

“Good,” the woman laughs and then catches you out of the corner of her eye. 

“Oh my goodness! Aren’t you just the cutest thing!” she grabs your hands in hers, “you’ve grown so much! I remember when you only came up to my waist!” 

You watch Leon cover his mouth, but you can still see the grin on his face. 

“Oh and this must be your boyfriend,” the woman coos, eyes taking in Leon next to you, “my he’s a handsome boy.”

Your eyes cut to Leon who barks out a laugh, red tinging his cheekbones. 

Your mom also starts to laugh, “No, that’s Leon. That’s my new stepson. I guess I should’ve made introductions sooner.”

“Oh my mistake,” the woman blushes and laughs, “oh I see—,” her attention shifts to someone in the distance, “oh! I must go, but it’s so lovely to meet you.”

She jogs off yelling and waving at another picnic attendee. 

“That wasn’t awkward at all,” your stepdad dryly states. 

You laugh so hard you snort and cover your mouth, giggles still sneaking past your palm. You catch Leon’s flushed face and lose it again to a fit of giggles. 

Your mom clears her throat, “Yes well let’s head over to the games area; since there’s four of us, we’ll need to pair off.”

Leon throws his arm over your shoulders, “You’ve got me now, so we’ll definitely win.”

You roll your eyes, “Mmhmm, we’ll see.”

With the arm around your shoulders, he pinches your cheek, “Have faith, little sis.”

“Sure thing, big brother,” you simper, clasping your hands to your chest, “my hero.”

He pinches your cheek again and tugs, eyes dark, “Be nice, Princess.”

“We’ll meet up at our spot after the race,” your mom remarks, shielding her eyes and looking around, “oh there’s my boss! We’ll meet up with you kids later.”

Grabbing her husband’s hand, she rushes off in the opposite direction. 

You elbow Leon in the ribs and he slowly drags his hand across your back to his side. 

“Quit it,” you hiss, feeling flush. 

“C’mon,” Leon links your arm with his, “show me where this thing is at.”

You try to wrangle your arm back, but Leon holds on tight. 

Sighing, you relax in his hold and start to walk to the middle of the venue, “It’s over here.”

The heat from Leon’s side seeps through your T-shirt making butterflies flutter in your stomach. 

“You know you should be a lot nicer to your handsome boyfriend,” Leon’s voice lilts higher on the last two words as he pokes you in the side. 

You squirm and smack his arm, skin tingling, feeling hot all over with embarrassment and giddiness, “Shut. Up.”

To your dismay, he just laughs at you.

“C’mon, Princess,” he leans his head down to whisper in your ear, “gotta be sweet to me or people will think my girlfriend doesn’t like me.”

Your stomach dips in excitement, but you ignore it and nudge Leon in the ribs, “You’re being annoying, Leon.”

He snickers, “Isn’t that what big brothers are for?”

You roll your eyes, “You can’t be both you dork.”

He hums and grin wickedly at you, “Says who, Princess?”

Shivering, your nipples tighten in your bra as you look away, “Says everyone.”

He only shrugs in reply, eyes glittering in the sun.  

“You really think you can win?” you turn your attention back towards him, changing the subject. 

“Of course,” he scoffs, blue eyes roving over your face before making eye contact, “I’m gonna win at whatever it is.”

“You trying to show off?” you tease, squeezing his arm. 

He grins crookedly, “Don’t you wanna see how good your big brother is?”

Your breath hitches and you watch as Leon notices, eyes darkening. 

“You wanna win for me?” you whisper, eyes hooded, warmth pooling in your abdomen. 

“Yeah, wanna show off to my girl, show her how much better I am than anyone else here,” his voice is heated and deep as his heavy gaze takes in your hazy expression. 

“Okay,” your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them, “then win it for me, big brother.”

You feel his body tense next to you. 

“What do I get when I win?”

You tap a finger against your chin, “Hmmm, how about a kiss?”

“Yeah?” His eyes drop to your lips, “I’ll take that deal.”

Your lips curl into a smile, “Then deal.”

Walking up to the starting point of the race, there’s already a huge crowd of people. 

“Greens lining up now,” a man calls through a bullhorn, “greens at the starting line!”

Leon slips his arm out of yours. He runs a thumb across the apple of your cheek. 

“Wait for me at the finish line?”

You smirk at him and hold up your wrist, “But I’m also a green. So looks like you’re gonna have to outrun me if you want to win.”

You laugh at his slack jawed expression. 

“Poor Leon,” you coo, patting his broad chest. 

Someone bumps into you, pushing you further into Leon’s personal space. 

“Ah, sorry,” a rich voice laughs behind you, “a little clumsy.”

You turn and give the surprisingly cute guy a shy smile, “It’s okay, no biggie.”

The guy smiles even wider at you, “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before.”

You laugh softly, “Unfortunately, I’m here every year.”

“It’s the worst isn’t it?” he chuckles, “my dad’s always dragging me to these.”

“For me, it’s my mom,” you roll your eyes, “and it’s the same thing every year which is super lame.”

“Exactly!” He laughs. 

All of a sudden you feel a line of heat down your back as Leon presses his chest against you, arms draped over your shoulders as he rests his chin on your head, “What’re we talking about, sweetheart?”

The guy’s smile drops from his face as his eyes swap nervously from your face up to Leon’s.

He takes half a step back, “Well it was nice meeting you!”

You watch as he turns and darts off further into the crowd. Warmth zings through your body as Leon pulls you even tighter against him. 

“You going to ignore me for some stranger?” His voice gives you goosebumps as he whispers in your ear, “how mean.”

“Leon,” you soften against him, relaxing back in his hold, “I was just being friendly.”

“Uh huh,” he rumbles, “and I’m sure he thought you were just being friendly, too.”

He lets go of you, leaving you feeling dizzy and off balanced.

“Last call for greens to the starting line!” the bullhorn rings out. 

You and Leon line up with the group, shoulders brushing. 

“Good luck, brat,” he pinches your side meanly making you gasp. 

You go to smack his shoulder but the starting gun goes off and everyone makes a mad dash for the finish line. 

Leon bolts out in front of you. 

“Cheater!” You yell at his back. 

He flips you off but keeps running. You jog a few steps but decide it’s a bust. Stepping out of the throng of people, you make your way down to the finish line, but now on the outside of the run. Once down at the finish line, you stand on your tiptoes looking for Leon’s distinctive hair. A pair of arms wrap around your waist and twirl you around. 

You squeal and smack at the forearms wrapped around you. You hear Leon laugh in your ear as he sets you back down. 

“Gotcha, princess.”

“Fuck off,” you shove at his chest even though he doesn’t budge. 

He grins at you, “No can do, you owe me a prize.” 

He dangles a cheap plastic medallion with ‘1st Place’ stamped in wonky lettering in front of your face. 

You laugh, taking the medal from his hand, “No way!”

“Way,” he crowds into your personal space, “so?”

“I guess I have to,” you try to act serious, but the smile won’t leave your face. 

You grab the collar of his shirt and tug him down closer to you while you push up on your tippy toes; you press a soft kiss at the corner of his mouth, lips barely grazing his. 

You settle back on flat feet and let go of his shirt, “Congratulations.”

He slips his fingers through the belt loops of your shorts and yanks you forward; he holds you against him as he licks into your mouth, tongue hot as it slips past your lips. You whine and sag against his broad chest as he practically tongue fucks you in front of all these strangers. 

Pulling away, you gasp in a quick breath, “What’re you doing? What if our parents see?”

Your eyes dart around nervously, but there’s no denying the heat building between your thighs. He smirks down at you, making your belly swoop in excitement. 

He noses along your hairline until his lips press against your ear, “Kissing my little sister, what else? And don’t worry they’re nowhere around, I looked.”

You bite your lip to stop the moan bubbling out of your throat, but Leon doesn’t stop there.

“So funny none of these people know, they just think you could be my cute little girlfriend,” he chuckles, tongue dipping in your ear making you shiver against him, “haven’t got a clue that I’m your big brother.”

You moan at that, softly where only he can hear it. He hums and goes to dip his head down, but jerks back from you like he’s been shocked. 

“It took forever for us to find you!” 

Leon gives his dad a strained smile, “Yeah it’s pretty crowded huh.”

You scrub your hands across your face and turn on shaky legs to face your mom, giving her a quick smile and a wave. 

She nods, “One of our bigger turnouts,” then she sees the glint of yellow in Leon’s hand and gasps excitedly, “did you win?!”

“Oh,” Leon rubs the back of his neck, “uh yeah, I did.”

“He was so good,” you add slyly, grinning at Leon, “right, big brother?”

He rolls his eyes at you, but you see a blush dusting the bridge of his nose. 

“Let’s go eat,” your mom suggests, “I’m starving.”

She links arms with you and starts to talk about the new boss she just met while your stepdad and Leon trail behind, softly conversing with each other. 

Before you know it, the minutes bleed into hours as the afternoon drips by like slowly melting ice cream. Your mom and stepdad leave to go mingle, sticking you and Leon with cleaning up by yourselves. 

Afterwards, sitting on the picnic blanket, you wrap your arms around your legs and prop your chin on your knees. You watch as your mom and stepdad get pulled into yet another conversation with her coworkers.

Leon’s knee bumps into yours, “Stop being so pouty.”

You tilt your head to the side to look at where he’s lounging back on his elbows next to you. 

“I’m not pouting,” you say, although you know you most definitely are. 

“Suuure,” he snarks at you.

You sigh, “It’s just.. well, she drags me to these things every year.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Okay?”

“It just sucks. She brings me along and then I’m left here by myself while she talks it up with everyone. It wasn’t so bad when dad—“

You cut yourself off, feeling embarrassed. 

You raise back up into a sitting position and cross your legs, “Never mind.”

He raises up to sit next to you, bumping your shoulders together, “No, c’mon tell me. I wanna hear.”

You pick at the loose thread on your shorts, “Well when dad was here it wasn’t so bad cause we’d goof off and make it fun. We’d pick out people and invent some silly job for them or what ludicrous name they could have. It just—“

You trail off feeling tears prick your eyes. 

“It didn’t suck,” he murmurs, reaching out and holding your hand, “sorry for bringing it up.”

You huff a small laugh, “No, it’s— you didn’t do anything. I just hate being here. Last year it was just us two, so essentially just me.”

Glancing around and noticing no one’s even near you two, Leon squeezes your hand. 

“Hey,” he noses your hairline and presses a kiss on your ear then your cheek, “I’m here, okay?”

“I know,” you give him a shy smile paired with watery eyes, “you’ve actually made today a lot of fun, so thank you.”

“Any time,” he presses a quick kiss on your mouth before pulling away. 

Your wide eyes look around as you whisper, “Leon!”

“What?” He grins, “it’s just us.”

“This time!” You whisper loudly, “you can’t just keep kissing me in public, especiallywhen our parents are nearby!”

“So you’re saying I can kiss you in public when they’re not?” His grin widens.

You gaze at him, mouth parted in disbelief, “You—“

“Kids!” your mom calls out cheerily, waving as she walks up. 

You turn to face her, Leon slipping his hand out of yours. 

“It’s starting to get late and some of us are going to stick around to help clean up,” she smiles at you two, “so you can head on home.”

You notice that the sun has started to set. Dark looking storm clouds are rolling in over the horizon. 

“Oh, I didn’t realize it was that late,” you stand up and brush off your shorts. 

Your mom pulls you in for a quick hug, “Thank you for staying today. It means a lot.”

You shrug awkwardly, “No problem, mom.”

She lets go of you and turns a stern gaze to Leon who’s now standing next to you, “Drive safe, young man.”

He gives her a mock salute, “Will do, ma’am.”

She smiles at him and pats his cheek, “Okay, I’ll see you guys at home.”

And with that, your mom spins around and walks off to re join her husband. 

“You ready then?” 

You glance up at Leon, “More than.”

On the drive home, the storm clouds finally break and heavy rain comes pelting down. The windshield wipers seem to be working double time, but it still makes it hard for Leon to see the road. 

“About a half hour away,” Leon nods to the GPS, “I’m gonna pull over into this park until it lets up some.”

“Okay,” you easily agree with a shrug, “you’re driving.”

He pulls into the empty lot; the small park has an even smaller parking lot to match. Leon shuts the car off and the sound of rain drumming against the roof lends itself to a soothing atmosphere. 

“I love the rain,” you sigh, gazing out the window. 

“Mm it’s nice,” Leon hums. 

He looks over at you until you finally catch his gaze. 

He grins lazily at you, “C’mere.”

You smile confusedly, “What?”

He pats his lap, “Come sit.”

A rush of heat shoots through your body. You carefully shift until you can climb over the center console and onto Leon’s lap. Your back brushes against the steering wheel and your legs are folded on either side of his bulky thighs.

His warm hands settle on your hips, gripping them to pull you snug up against his chest. 

“There we go,” his whisper falls into the space between your lips. 

Feeling shy, you tuck your face into his neck. 

“Thank you for today, for being nicer than usual,” you press a soft kiss into his skin. 

“It’s no problem,” he pokes your side making you gasp and sit up.  

“Still,” you run your hands through his hair, “thank you, Leon.”

He groans and leans his head back against the headrest. You scratch along his scalp and his eyes slip shut. 

“Mmm gonna have to be nicer if this is what it gets me,” he sighs out. 

You laugh softly and continue to run your hands through his hair. A comfortable silence only broken by the sound of rain fills the quiet. Thunder rolls in the distance and the rain starts to come down even harder. 

Leon’s voice rumbles in his chest, “You ever made out in a car, Princess?” 

Flustered, you bring your hands down to drape around his neck, “No.”

“Good,” he smirks, “I like being your first for things.”

“Leon,” you squirm in embarrassment. 

He holds your hips still, “Behave. You keep moving like that and it’s gonna be more than making out.”

“Yeah,” your eyes drop to his lips, “is that a promise big brother?”

His lips thin, a mean look coming over his face, “Don’t be a brat.”

You lick your lips and smile sweetly at him. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, big brother.”

His hand comes up to your jaw and he brings your mouths together in a messy kiss. 

“Such a fucking tease,” he groans into your mouth. 

“Leon,” you mewl. 

He fucks his tongue in and out of your mouth, spit dripping down your chin making your cunt throb as you squirm and rock in his lap. His hands help your hips pick up a rhythm that has you panting and moaning in your kisses.

“So sweet,” he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your lips. 

He rubs his thumb over your bottom lip, breaking the strand and smearing spit all over your mouth, “Sweet little sister.”

Your eyes flutter as slick fills your panties, making the slow grind on your clit wet and slippery. 

“Leon,” you whimper, lips brushing against his, “my panties are sticking to me.”

“Fuck, really?” he bites your bottom lip harshly, sucking on it before letting go with a small pop, “big brother making your little pussy cry, princess?”

“Uh huh,” you grab one of his hands and guide it to slip under the leg of your shorts. 

His fingers stroke your clit on the outside of your soaked panties. 

“Shit,” he hisses, fingers feeling around the flimsy fabric barely covering your aching cunt. 

“So wet,” he presses his face into your neck, groaning, “haven’t even touched you yet and you’re fucking dripping.”

Your hand dips between your bodies to roughly stroke him through his jeans. You feel his cock kick and throb against the palm of your hand. 

“Get in the backseat, baby,” he pulls his hand away from your wet heat and smacks your ass. 

Leon’s dark eyes watch you clamber over the console and into the backseat. He follows you immediately and maneuvers you both until he’s seated against the door with you straddling his lap. The windows in the front are completely fogged while the ones in the backseat slowly catch up. 

“God, been wanting you all day princess,” he pulls you into a heated kiss, “driving me crazy in these fucking shorts.”

“Yeah?” you whimper into his mouth. 

“Mmm, yeah could see the bruises I left on your thighs reminding me of how sweet your hot little cunt tastes,” he licks into your panting mouth, lips slick with spit, “couldn’t even touch you how I wanted.”

“Leon!” you roll your hips down onto the outline of his hard cock, “how’d you want to touch me?”

He hisses, “Like I’m doing right now, Princess. Random assholes staring at you, couldn’t even show’em what’s mine.”

He growls and bucks his hips up, pressing just right against your clit. He kisses the moan out of your mouth. 

“M yours, Leon,” you whine when he pulls his mouth away to nip and suck at your neck. 

“Yeah you are,” he sucks a bruise into your neck, “my pretty little sister, right?”

You claw at his shoulders, pressing your throat harder into his teeth, “Yeah, yeah, ‘m your little sister, no one else’s.”

“Fuck,” he moans, a raspy growl that goes straight to your throbbing cunt, “mmm or maybe you’re my sweet little girlfriend that I’m going to fuck in the backseat, huh?”

“Leon!” you keen, grinding down even  harder on the outline of his cock, clit throbbingin your panties, “want that, want it so much.”

He groans, tongue slipping into your mouth, “Gonna fuck my girlfriend’s pretty pussy til she’s creaming my cock, right?”

You nod your head quickly, “Yes, yes, please.”

“Show me your tits, baby. Wanna suck on those nipples and get this pussy nice and wet,” he pulls away, blown pupils holding your gaze. 

“Leon,” you gasp, yanking your shirt up over your head. 

Before you can undo your bra, he tugs the cups down until your breasts are spilling out, nipples tightening under his gaze. 

“Damn,” he whispers, “so fucking hot.”

He grabs your hips to slowly grind his dick into the damp heat of your pussy. His mouth latches onto a nipple and he eagerly suckles the hard bud. 

“Sensitive,” you mewl, hands moving from his shoulders to tangle in his hair. 

He ignores you and continues to suckle and teasingly bite your hard bud before switching to the other one. He continues to drift back and forth, teasing and sucking your nipples until they’re sore and puffy. His eyes slip closed with a moan when you tug his hair harder. 

“Big brother,” you whine, “you’re sucking too hard.”

He growls but pulls back from your chest, “So spoiled.”

You pout and press your hips down harder making him moan, “But you like spoiling me.”

“Yeah I do, little brat,” he shifts to pull his own shirt off and drop it on the floorboard. 

You whimper and drag your hands from his shoulders, down his broad chest, to his abs. 

“You’re so hot, Leon,” you pant, nails scratching his skin making his abs flex, “you make me so wet.”

“Can’t just say that shit,” he grits out, grabbing your hands in his, eyes dark and hungry. 

“But it’s true,” you whisper biting your lip, eyes big. 

He reaches between you and thumbs open the button on his jeans. 

“Take those fucking shorts off before I do,” his voice rasps, helping you raise your hips. 

As soon as the material of your shorts and panties are shoved down your thighs, he presses two fingers into your soaking wet pussy. 

“God damn, baby,” he watches as slick drips down his wrist, “you’re so wet for me.”

“Need you,” you whimper, “please.”

“I got you,” he tugs his own jeans and underwear down; his hard dick bounces up against your thigh smearing a sticky trail of precum. 

“Easy, baby,” he grabs the base of his cock and slaps your pussy, “ready to sit on my dick?”

“Yeah,” you pant, lifting yourself up so he can glide the head of his cock against your swollen clit to dip inside your slick hole. 

“Please, Leon.”

“Please, what?”

You whine, “Please big brother, want you to put it in.”

He chuckles meanly, “Put what in Princess?”

Your pussy clenches around nothing, slick dripping down onto Leon’s cock just teasing at your hole. 

“Please, big brother I need your cock in my pussy,” you whimper, hands scratching at his chest, “want you in my needy princess pussy.”

“Fuck, you play dirty, sweetheart,” he groans sinking the first couple of inches into your wet heat, “can’t say no to that now can I.”

He grabs your hips stilling your movement; he’s only halfway in your pussy and it’s making you desperate.  

“Leon,” your eyes water, “please, please I need it. Feel so empty,” whimpering, you drag your lips across his jaw, “don’t you wanna fuck your girlfriend’s wet pussy?”

“Fuck,” he hisses, slowly easing you down, his cock sliding deeper but still not bottoming out.

“Gotta savor this one princess, s’gonna be a slow fuck for your little cunt.”

Your thighs spasm as you hiccup a moan, tears filling your eyes. 

“But Leon—“

“Uh uh,” he clicks his tongue, eyes dark and mean, “big brother knows what’s best.”

Your cunt flutters around his cock making you both moan. Even though he’s only teasing the first few inches of his cock in and out of your pussy, it sounds wet and dirty. 

“Fuck me,” he huffs a laugh, “you’re leaking so much it’s dripping down my balls. You’re gonna get the family car all dirty, baby.”

Your back arches as you press your body weight down; you feel Leon sink further into your cunt before his hands grip your hips like a vice. 

“What did I say? Do I need to spank your slutty cunt? To make sure you’re listening to me?”

You whimper, “M-maybe.”

“Oh?” he grins, “do I need to spank that needy pussy and show her who’s in charge?”

Your eyes slip shut as you nod, “Yeah, yeah, big brother needs to spank my pussy.”

He growls and pulls you up off of his cock; you whine and writhe your hips but he sets you back down in his lap, pussy lips sandwiching his dick. 

A faint buzzing comes from Leon’s phone tucked into the center console. 

You rock your hips forward and shiver as your clit rubs against his cock in a slippery drag of friction.

“None of that,” he smacks your thigh, pulling your dazed expression up to meet his heated gaze, “you ready?”

“Yes,” you grab his hand and push it against your soaked cunt, “spank my princess pussy; she needs big brother to really give it to her.”

“Fuck,” he bites out, “fucking slut.”

He cups the wet heat of your pussy then brings his hand back and smacks upward, covering your mound and swollen clit with his palm. 

You whine high in your throat, hands reaching behind you to hold onto his thighs for purchase. 

“That’s it,” he murmurs, “be good and let me spank you.”

“Uh huh,” you lean back onto your hands, arching your hips to put your pussy more on display, “need my boyfriend to really give my naughty pussy a spanking.”

“God damn,” he clenches his eyes shut a moment, then looks back down at your puffy clit and drippy cunt. 

“Got a slutty fucking girlfriend don’t I,” his voice rasps, smacking your pussy again and again and again, “or should I say slutty little sister, just letting her brother play with her pussy whenever he wants.”

The sharp stings fade into a low heat with every slap, making your clit throb and hole clench on nothing. Your hips jump up into each slap, thighs trembling. 

“Hold still,” his voice darkens, “and let me spank your slutty cunt.”

“‘M not slutty,” you gasp out, “m just needy.”

“Is that right?” he mocks, dragging his middle and index finger through your slick before circling your sore clit. 

“I guess it can’t be helped,” he sighs, fingers dipping into your hole, “big brother will have to fill up this wet and sloppy cunt.”

“Please,” you arch down onto his fingers, “Leon, big brother, I need it.”

He pulls his fingers away and lines his cock up with your wet clenching hole. He presses in with a low groan as you rock your hips down until he bottoms out completely. You wince at how deep he is inside of you; the fat tip pressing against your cervix making you rock forward, enjoying the ache deep in your cunt. 

“So deep,” you pant, nails digging into his forearms, “hurts.”

“It does?” He coos all fake sympathy, “guess I should pull out then.”

“Nooo,” you clench down tightly. 

“No?” he grinds his cock upward making your eyes roll back from the pain blooming into pleasure as your hips jump. 

“If it’s too deep I need to pull out,” he kisses your cheek, “don’t want to hurt my sweetbaby sister.”

You whimper as he slips back just a little and then presses hard into your fluttering walls. His tip kisses the opening of your cervix making you squeal in pain, but he holds your hips down making you take it. His thumb moves to brush against your clit in soft, teasing circles. 

“Hurts, princess?” he licks the tears dripping down your face, “is it too much? Does your boyfriend’s cock stretch you out too far?”

Nonsensical sounds come from your lips, tongue lying heavy and useless in your mouth. He keeps grinding too deep and touching your clit with delicate fingers, making wires cross in your brain until you feel nothing but white hot pleasure overtaking your body. 

“Are you fucking cumming?” he whispers in awe, feeling your walls milk his cock as slick drips out of your spasming hole. 

“Fucking hell,” he slowly eases you back, his cock still inside your pussy just not as deep as before. 

“Leon,” you slur, eyes hazy, “s’good.”

He laughs, “Sure seems like it, baby. Want to just sit on my dick, keep me nice and warm for awhile? Til you’re ready to go again?”

You hum a sound of agreement, “Sounds nice.”

He groans, “Yeah it does.”

He helps you shift your hips so his cock isn’t pressing into you too deeply and he brings your mouth in for a sloppy kiss. 

“Love kissing you,” he coaxes you to open your mouth wider, “always so eager.”

You feel giggly and warm, “Love kissing you too, Leon.”

He sighs in your mouth, tongues slowly sliding together between your lips. His kisses turn slower, sweeter— tongue licking into your mouth, tasting you as deep as possible. You feel his cock kick and throb in your sensitive cunt. Shifting, you press yourself down a little more firmly, pussy walls gripping his cock tightly. 

A faint buzzing comes from the floorboard where your shorts were tossed. Leon pulls you further into his chest, rolling his hips up into your soaked pussy. Buzzing happens again but this time from the center console; you both ignore it as Leon presses the fat tip of his dick and grinds along the spongy spot in your cunt that drives you crazy. 

He pulls away from your sloppy kissing, pupils so big his eyes look black. Both phones are now buzzing with calls. 

“s’that the spot, sweetheart?” He grinds his dick deeper in your squelching cunt. 

“Leon,” you keen, hands tugging his hair, “it’s so good, you feel so good inside me.”

He growls, hips thrusting up into you harder, faster. 

“God, princess, got the best fucking pussy,” he bites your jaw, “little cunt made for my cock.”

His fingers tease across your wet, swollen clit. 

“Yeah, yeah, please,” you pull your hips and drop them back down, “so good, big brother.”

He presses the back of his head against the car door’s fogged up window, eyes hooded as he watches you bounce on his dick. He keeps his fingers on your clit, stroking and pinching, making you buck your hips into the feeling. 

He watches as a frown forms on your brows, your hips slowing down. 

“Leon,” embarrassment colors your voice, “we have to stop, I-I gotta pee.”

He grins wolfishly, “You ever squirted before, sweetheart?”

“N-no,” you frown, hands pressing against his abs trying to slow his thrusts up into your dripping pussy but he keeps hammering up into you, “s-stop or I’m gonna—“

“S’fine,” he soothes, grinding his dick in the same spot, “want you to squirt on my dick, baby.”

“I c-can’t,” your lip quivers, tears pricking your eyes. 

“Sure you can, Princess,” his fingers rub your clit more firmly, “c’mon want you to soak the backseats.”

He grins wickedly, “Our parents will never have t’know.”

Another harsh grind against the spongy spot in your cunt has you locking up, your back arching as your orgasm overtakes your body. 

“Leon!” a gasping wail leaves you as you feel slick gush from your pussy, soaking your thighs and Leon. 

“Fuck, fuck!” Leon grabs your hips and holds you flush with him as he cums inside your still clenching pussy. 

You feel the heat as rope after rope of sticky cum fills your spasming cunt. Slowly, you settle back on Leon’s thighs, his dick plugging up your cunt keeping most of his cum inside. 

His hands are still gripping your hips tightly, making your walls pulse, softly milking him still. 

“Oh,” you exhale, and pull your nails away from where you dug them into his chest, leaving nine bloody crescents to frame his pecs. 

“S’okay, sweetheart,” he grins at you, all sweetness and soft eyes, “got nothing to complain about.”

“Ah,” you squirm feeling embarrassed, “that was..”

“Hot,” he rubs his thumb over the apple of your cheek, “gonna need a repeat, princess. See if next time I can get you to squirt on my fingers.”

“Leon,” you pout, body feeling hot. 

A loud consistent buzz breaks through the fog in your brain. 

“That’s been going off for awhile now,” you bite your lip. 

Leon raises up, wrapping his arms around your back to keep you seated on his cock. He leans up further and fumbles around the center console til he pulls back holding his phone. 

He accepts the call and puts it on speakerphone, “Hey Pops.” 

“Where the hell are you?! Are you okay?”

Leon ducks his head, even though his dad can’t see it, “Uh yeah, the roads got bad so we pulled over. Sorry my phone was on silent so I didn’t realize you were calling.”

A pause from his dad before he sighs, “Well as long as you’re okay. Just next time let someone know, okay?”

“Will do, Pops. Sorry to worry you.”

“Let’s try not to do it again, son,” his dad chuckles, “drive safe.”

“I will.” 

And with that the call ends, basking you two in silence except for the light drizzle of rain hitting the car. 

Leon jostles you again making you gasp as his half hard cock slips out a few inches. 

“Shit,” he hisses, “let me—“

He grabs his t-shirt off the floorboard and slips it underneath you as he pulls completely out. You whimper as his cum drips from your sore cunt. 

“Sexy,” he murmurs eyes going dark again, running his fingers through your slick folds to tease at your hole. 

“Leon,” you whisper, grabbing his wrist, “shouldn’t we go home before we worry them more?”

With his free hand, he easily moves your hand from his wrist and slots your fingers together. His other fingers dip into your cum filled hole but don’t go any further. 

He brings up the hand he’s holding and kisses your knuckles, “One more round couldn’t hurt, princess.”

A beam of headlights cross the car’s interior as another vehicle pulls into the parking lot. 

You squeak and duck your face down into Leon’s neck, who chuckles and pulls you down to lay on top of him in the backseat. 

“What’re we going to do?” You whisper scream at him, tilting your head up, eyes wide and anxious. 

He gives a half hearted shrug underneath you and spreads your legs further to slide his cock between your thighs. You feel it stiffening against you cunt, dragging cum and slick all over your pussy lips.

“About to fill you up again, baby,” he kisses your ear, “gotta keep quiet though, don’t want them hearing you getting your little princess pussy fucked by your big brother.”

You whine, hips grinding down on his dick. 

“They wouldn’t even know,” you whisper hotly, “like you said earlier, probably just think I’m your girlfriend.”

“Mmm they might when I make you scream big brother over and over again,” he laughs meanly, pinching your ass making you buck into his hips. 

He pulls one of your legs up higher and slips his cock into your pussy; it’s an easy slide for his fat cock at this point, bottoming out quickly. 

You whine into his shoulder, eyes fluttering from feeling sore and used. 

“There we go,” he coos mockingly, “just let me fill up that slutty little pussy, right baby sis?”

“Uh huh,” you drool into his skin, teeth nipping to muffle any sounds you’re making, “fill me up so good.”

He’s slowly grinding his cock in you, pelvic bone catching your clit with every circle of his hips. Your pussy is so sensitive, you feel yourself edging closer and closer to an orgasm. 

“Leon,” you sigh, cunt milking his cock as he slowly fucks in and out of your pussy, “you feel so good.”

He laughs at you, “Mmm I know, your tight hot pussy hasn’t let go of me since I slipped my dick in.”

You whine, walls fluttering at his words, “Can’t help it. You’re too big.”

He grips your ass in both hands, squeezing til the fat dimples between his fingers, “Nah you just got a little pussy. A cute little pussy that matches my cute little sister.”

You lay against him, mouthing at his shoulder and moaning as he keeps sliding in and out of your clenching hole. Slick is dripping out of your cunt and all over his cock, sliding down to coat his balls and thighs. 

“This is the juiciest fucking pussy,” he growls in your ear, cunt squelching on every slow push and pull of his dick inside you, “do you hear how wet you are? God so fucking hot.”

“Mmm,” you slur, eyes lidded, “so stretched out, big brother.”

He groans, hips humping up into you for a few thrusts before he slows down again. 

 “Leon,” you whisper against his shoulder, “m gonna cum.”

“So soon?” his voice is low and deep, making goosebumps raise across your skin, “feeling that good, Princess?”

“Yeah,” you mewl.

“Say who’s making you feel so good, baby,” he growls, smacking your ass. 

You roll your hips down harder at the sting and pant, “Big brother. Big brother fucks my little pussy so good.”

“Again.”

Your drooling, eyes dazed as you moan, “Big brother makes my little Princess pussy feel so good.”

“Good girl,” he condescends, “that’s right, no one fucks this pussy as good as me. In fact no one better fuck this pussy except me, right?”

“Uh huh, no one,” you shudder, “all yours.”

“That’s right. My little sister’s pussy is all mine,” he grunts, rocking you together faster, “gonna cum in you again, keep your little pussy full.”

“Need it,” your nails dig into his biceps, “fill me up, big brother.”

“Yeah, you love me breeding this cute pussy,” he grinds up into your clenching heat, “girlfriend’s got the neediest fucking cunt.”

A high reedy cry leaves your throat, pussy walls eagerly pulsing around his dick, “Yeah, yeah I do. Big brother!”

His hands come down to squeeze your ass, the fat dimpling between his fingers. He fucks into your pussy with short deep thrusts. 

“Mm cumming,” your toes curl with the mounting pleasure ramping up in your body, “Le—“

You muffle your scream by biting down into Leon’s shoulder hard. Your orgasm makes the muscles in your thighs jump, hips humping down on Leon’s cock. Distantly, you feel him press up into your pussy and fill you with hot, sticky cum all over again. 

Dizzy, you slump down onto Leon’s heaving chest. 

You feel him run his hands up your back to pet through your hair. You nuzzle further into his chest with a hum.

“S’nice,” you whisper into his skin. 

“Mmm,” he pets down your side before dragging fingertips across your hips, “think you’re gonna bruise, sweetheart.”

You push yourself up from his chest, eyes looking out the windows; seeing the other car is gone, you raise completely up. 

“You will too,” you point out, fingers skating across the spots you bit and crescent marks from your nails. 

He smirks, “Gonna get a lot of guys asking me who I fucked so good.”

“Leon,” you smack his arm, “so mean.”

He chuckles and smooths his hands down your thighs, “Yeah but you like it.”

Shyly your gaze drops to his mouth, “Yeah, I do.”

“As much as I’d love to keep you here all night, we probably should head back home,” he pats your hips.

Grabbing his shirt from before he slips it between your bodies. 

“Up, princess,” he helps you raise your hips and presses his shirt against your puffy cunt. 

“I’ll never get tired of that,” he groans, shifting his gaze from your leaking pussy  back up to your face, “need you to get dressed before I change my mind.”

Feeling a swirl of emotions, elated-aroused-fond, you nod your head and grab your panties and shorts. You slip them on after wiping down as well as you can.

You frown at the shirt in your hand, and look at Leon who’s got his jeans back on and scratching at his head with a yawn. 

“What shirt are you gonna wear?”

He shrugs, “I’ll just say it got wet and I didn’t want the seat to get wet so I took it off.”

“Oh,” you fold it inside out, keeping the mess hidden, “well hopefully that works.”

Leon helps you climb back into the passenger seat; he follows and slides into the driver’s side. Cranking the car, he cuts on the defrost to help with the fogged up windows. 

You two sit in a comfortable silence and watch the rain mist against the windshield. 

“I had fun today,” you whisper, a secret just between you two. 

He grabs your hand and kisses the back, “I did too.”

[thehorrorgirlstyles]

Opposites attract

Part 4

Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Find P3 Here!

Warnings: 18+ smut, male masturbation, degradation!kink, pet names, cussing, squirting, little bit of praise!kink, derogatory words, harassment, bullying, public sex, some breeding kink, dry humping

(Note warnings are for the SERIES not the specific chapter)!!!

Minors don’t interact!

Summary: Eddie helps you through a hard time by giving you the treatment you deserve in more than one way...

Recap: Eddie and you moved one step further after your ex boyfriend lashed out on you at the party, things finally getting steamy after longing for Eddie!!!

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

It has been a week since you've seen or heard from Jason. Your mom tells you that he has come by every morning before school to talk to you, but you refuse to ever see him again, telling your mom that you're too sick to talk. Little does she know that you've been sneaking in Eddie Munson every night through your bedroom window, which in your defense is totally valid. With Eddie there you feel save instead of worrying that Jason will come in the middle of the night to KILL you....totally not for the reason of you being horny or anything. I mean honestly it isn't your fault it's Eddie's for being so irresistible. How everyone at school thinks he is a freak will forever be questionable to you. How it took you so long to realize your feelings for Eddie is also questionable.

Today is the day you have been draining for your mom is forcing you to go back to school, she bought the sickness for a week, but she's over the lies now.

"Y/n you're not pulling this again honey it has been a week and your friends and boyfriend are worried about you....Do you know how many times Jason has called this house?" she points to the phone that has been ringing for the past hour. Does this guy ever give up?

"Mom please I really am sick, I swear...Check my temp".

"No, you're going to school and that's final, even if I have to drive you myself".

__________________________

It's your first day back after missing school in your final attempt to avoid bumping into Jason, which you hope will never happen again, considering the guy literally hit you and you've been covering it up with makeup. Everyone still thinks you and Jason are together, not knowing that the past week you've been going out after your mom leaves to visit a certain curly head.

"Hey y/n, where have you been are you okay?" Robin finds you by your locker, "You know it's unlike you to miss this many days and in a row too...Oh and you will not believe it Chance and Chrissy totally slept together at Tina's party...Speaking of which where did you run off to?.. Also the girl from band sh-"

"Robin!" you cut her off, "Please can I just put my books away first and then I'll answer all of your questions I promise".

"Oh yeah your right, I'm sorry...there's just so much to talk about and you've missed so much and we have been worried, but also I'm excited your back because I really need your help with something, oh and Jason he-"

You slam your locker shut, giving her a look.

"Sorry" she shuts up.

"Look, all you need to know is that I will not be seeing Jason anymore" You smile at her and walk towards your class.

As your walking you spot Eddie lecturing Dustin and Mike, "Look you either find a replacement or I'll personally hunt you down myself, Vecna isn't the one you should be worried about little ones" You overhear him say when he looks up and spot you walking his way.

He moves Dustin to the side to get to you, "Hey, there you are", he says smiling at you, "M'lady" he kisses your hand and bows.

"Why thank you kind sir" you play into it and curtsey back.

He pulls you to the side and lowers his voice, "Hey how are you doing, you know being back and everything, I swear if Jason even dares to speak to you I wi-"

You cut him off, "Eddie I'm fine I swear and besides you have definitely been taking good care of me" you wink at him.

He smiles, his eyes darkening "I haven't even showed you the best part" He moves you closer to him, leaning in to kiss you.

"Well isn't this a surprise" you back away and find Jason standing behind Eddie, your smile dropping. Eddie's grip on your waist tightens. "Well don't stop on my account, please continue", He speaks loudly starting to clap.

"Hey man you better leave us alone before I-", he interrupts Eddie, "Before you what, Sleep with my girlfriend, inflict her with your devil worshipping cult..I mean come on freak there's only so much you can do until someone might retaliate and do something back....Oh wait maybe someone already did" he points behind him to the trash which beholds Eddie's guitar broken into pieces the strings standing up.

"Eddie" I look at him to see him in shock not moving or saying anything, completely heartbroken. "Jason!" He stops laughing, "This is too far even for you, Eddie has spent hours saving up for that guitar, you're a fucking asshole" You stomp towards him and punch him in the face.

"OH MY GOD I think my nose is broken", blood streams from his face as he screams out, "YOU FUCKING BITCH YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS Y/N, YOU HEAR ME YOU SLUT, I WILL KILL YOU AND THAT FUCKING FREAK!" you hear him yell as you grab Eddie's hand and run down the hall. So much for a first day back...

NOTE: I'M SO SORRY THIS WAS RUSHEDDDD! I'm starting college so it might take me a few days to post again, I'm trying to get out as many stories as I can, but I may be a little busy with life..... PLEASE BE PATIENT< THANK YOU :))))

Part 5 will be posted soon.... AND WILL BE PURE SMUT FINALLYYYYYYYYYY

last part??? Maybe.....

Tagslist: @itzkawaiix, @lotrefcp, @morganlolitta, @angelluv111, @dreamerjj, @littlemissnightmare, @biijancaposts, @josephquinnsfreckles, @skyesthebomb, @fandom-princess-forevermore

As always I hoped you enjoyed!

[nevadancitizen]

-> SEEING DOUBLE

synopsis: könig thought he was the only one that could hear and see you for a while. that is, until horangi mentions someone singing.

word count: 1.8k

characters: könig, horangi, player! reader, reader's unnamed friend

trigger warnings: mention of canon-typical violence, mentions of/thoughts of relapse (horangi’s past gambling addiction), hornagi is like obsessive too lololol (also forgot to add STILL insp. by/referencing @simp4konig 's self-aware könig piece)

notes: uh pov switches from omnipotent third-person könig to omnipotent third-person hornagi. oops lol also the temp. is in fahrenheit in celsius it would be ~26 degrees

König thought he was the only one for a long while. All these operators around him were only given minds through their code and pixels – König was the one with an actual brain in his skull. 

That was, until another operator heard you. 

You – and, someone else, maybe a friend from your world? – were singing along to some song unknown to König, mumbling the parts you didn’t know so well and bursting with energy at the parts you knew by heart.

König was waiting for the mission time to arrive in the armory, quietly listening to you and your friend. He felt some warmth from you – a small percent of what you’re capable of making him feel. Just enough to know you’re there, that you have eyes on him, to know the singing isn’t a delusion.

Horangi was also in the armory, his footsteps light as he peruses the wall of firearms. He plucks a Fennec 45 from the wall before turning it over in his hands and inspecting it – though he seems distracted while doing so. 

He turns to König and adjusts his sunglasses. “Do you hear that?”

König looks up from the stray skid mark on the floor he was looking at. “Hear what?”

“The…” Horangi gestures vaguely around him, then taps his earpiece. His voice drops to a lower volume, like he didn’t want anyone else hearing. “The singing. Do you not hear that?”

König stays silent for a moment. He checks over his shoulder to make sure no one else is in the armory before turning back to Horangi. “I hear it.”

Horangi breathes a sigh of relief, but doesn’t say anything else. He settles his ass on one of the thick, plastic ammo crates, fiddling with the Fennec 45, repeatedly pressing the magazine release before pushing the magazine back in. 

The singing stops, leaving only the music playing. Then, a voice is heard – “I’ve never seen Horangi do that. What is he, nervous?” 

And then, your voice – “Hey, don’t bully him!”

Horangi’s back snaps straight up as he looks around the armory. “What was that? Is someone else in here?”

König pulls at his hood so he can see Horangi better. “You’re really hearing them?”

“Yes.” Horangi looks at König. “Where are they?”

König shakes his head. “It’s best if we discuss this later.” In reality, König was dying to discuss this with another person – it was as if this heavy burden had been lifted now that he could talk to someone about you, about this video game they lived in, about everything while actually having something to back him up. 

Only a few seconds later, the siren sounds and it’s go time. Footsteps hit the ground and operators rush to the rooftops to be taken away to the hot zone. 

When both Horangi and König are secured on the helicopter, they don’t talk for a while, only sharing occasional glances (silent promises that no, the other is not insane, and no, this is not the start of a mass hysteria outbreak).

When boots hit the ground, König feels that oh-so-familiar warmth flood his body, blooming like a lotus from his chest to his limbs. He nods to Horangi to stick close. 

The music was turned down and all focus was on the battlefield – your silent guidance gave König commands to carry out, while your friend did the same with Horangi. 

Commands are barked out by the operators, you and your friend give excited praise, and the battlefield is a mess of noise. Bullets fly every which direction, sprays of brrrrrr-AT! echo off the abandoned buildings, some of which were still in the process of being built. 

This is urban warfare. 

As a SpecGru operator turns the corner, König pulls Horangi back behind a concrete half-wall (half because the rest of the wall had been sloughed off by explosions). To König, the touch is nothing, but to Horangi? Oh, that touch felt like bliss. 

It was you, striking a match and tossing it into the full burning barrel that was his lungs. Horangi pumped air into them like he was having a goddamn panic attack so that when his lungs caught fire, the rest of him did too. Your fire was slow, yet burning and hot all the same. It made him want to collapse in your white-hot flame and be consumed by you and not even care that he was ash and –

The feeling was gone, and Horangi was normal again. As normal as he could be when shivering in full tactical gear while it was eighty degrees out. 

König’s voice breaks through the haze. “Horangi?”

Horangi shifts so that he’s sitting with his back against the concrete half-wall. “Yes, sir?”

“You solid?”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. “The voices… our voices. The ones…” he gestures to his earpiece. “I heard them. And then I had a hot flash when you touched me.”

“Focus,” König hisses. “There’ll be time for that later.”

Horangi presses the magazine release and pushes the magazine back in. He peeks out from behind the concrete half-wall, then ducks back behind it. 

“Ready, sir?”

“When you are.” 

The battle is easy for König and Horangi when a benevolent being and a lesser one are controlling their every movement. It doesn’t hurt that the warmth serves as adrenaline, a body high that keeps them both alive and bold. Battle chatter fades into the background when that song and your rushed praise fills their ears and makes them feel warmer than you already make them. 

When the last opposing operator falls, the message is relayed until every KorTac operator is back at the helicopters. 

“Wheels up in two!” the pilot calls out. 

König and Horangi move together up to the cabin of the helicopter and silently sit next to each other, hands working deftly to buckle themselves in. 

Horangi tilts his chin up and lets the back of his helmet hit the headrest. He takes his sunglasses off and wipes them of dust and a spurt of blood. His eyes wander over the ceiling of the helicopter, quietly listening to you and your friend celebrate. 

“Who are they?” he quietly asks König. 

König leans closer to Horangi, the hem of his hood brushing Horangi’s shoulder. His voice is quiet. “I call them players. I know the one who told the other not to bully you. We… I don’t think we exist on the same plane as them. I think of them as a god. They help me – us, now.”

Then, König leans closer and whispers your name like a single-word prayer. 

And, fuck, how Horangi wants to fall back into gambling so he could whisper your name into his cupped hands while he’s shaking the dice just as he rolls that blessed seven. His breath falters for a split second as he thinks of the divine luck you’d bring him at the craps table, your fingers – assuming you were even human, or humanoid – trailing down his arms, touching his wrist to imbue his hands with your power. He’d happily worship you if it meant feeding that rush when the payout is high, and… shit. Hornagi takes a deep breath before he quickly corrects his thoughts and directs them elsewhere. 

He doesn’t even know where those thoughts came from. Well, he knows where the thoughts of relapse come from, but he doesn’t know where the thoughts about you stem. He’s barely felt your warmth, yet in your presence, he doesn’t want to be the big bad tiger – he wants to be the housecat that rubs up against your legs and gets away with knocking pill bottles off the counter. 

“Can you feel them?” König asks in a hushed whisper.

Horangi nods. Your fire is a dull thrum in his chest, but your heart is beating right next to his nonetheless. “Yes.”

König knocks his knee against Horangi’s. “Focus on something small. Circular. Like a light. That’s how I see them.”

Horangi hums and looks at the ceiling. He focuses on a small red indicator light, his eyes unfocusing as he keeps eye contact with the tiny LED. And, slowly but surely – just as König said – something else came into view, slowly creeping into his peripheral vision. 

It was a small bedroom – a shoebox, really. Dimly lit by fairy lights. A bed, a desk, a dresser… Someone was on the bed, and the other person was in the desk chair. They were both holding game controllers, facing each other. Talking. 

“We need to play their Thanksgiving album,” the person in the chair says. 

“To what, pregame for Thanksgiving?” the person on the bed laughs. “That’s months away.”

And with that angelic laugh, Horangi knows that’s you. The person laying on their stomach on the bed, with your perfect smile, perfect fingers holding the game controller. 

You reach for your phone and unlock it, the screen lighting up your face. You tap at it a few times before too-loud music starts playing – a man yelling about how dangerous gas station tweakers are.

“Ay, turn that down!” your friend protests. 

You grunt and turn it down a little. The music is hard funk-trap, and you and your friend sing along. It’s something like – “Closed casket funeral, but Imma have to peek in; tryna get real, like, sorry, I was sleepin’!”

Hornagi quietly listens to the rest, keeping his eyes still so he can keep you in his sight. You and your friend prattle off the rest of the song, even going as far as vocalizing the instruments. 

When the song ends, you roll on your side and face your friend. “We should listen to their Halloween album next. Then their Christmas album. Then their Valentine’s Day single. And then start up their Thanksgiving album again.”

God knows how Horangi would let you. He’d love to watch you do anything – even if you’re doing nothing. He’d do anything just to reach out and touch you. Run his hands over your face and watch your nose scrunch up at his touch, your eyes squeezing shut. Your smile would be just like the one you’re wearing right now, accentuating the apples of your cheeks perfectly. 

And he’d love to sit with you as that artist’s Halloween album, Thanksgiving album, Christmas album and Valentine’s Day single play, even if he didn’t understand the slang the men used. He’d rub his hands up and down your back – anywhere he could touch you, really – as you explained what they meant when they said they were gonna “pop a thirty an’ get real sturdy.”

And maybe one day he’d make that a reality.

[charles-leclerc-official]

Hi lucii!

I was wondering if Imola's temperature being lower(I'm pretty sure) than Miami's would greatly affect the sf24? Will the upgrades negate that? Ferrari seem pretty confident in them.

Also I was wondering if there is like a limit to how much a car can be upgraded over a season or weekend? Bc it looked like McLaren overhauled basically the whole car from the list of updates that I had seen.

Thank you!<3

So we are still a ways out from Imola, 2 weeks and it will probably be cooler but weather can change a lot in that time so I am not going to assume. You are right that temp trends mean it will be cooler. But not enough to be detrimental to the deg issues we've seen so far.

And yes the upgrades are going to address this as well so I do not think it will be as big of a problem as we've been seeing so far this year.

Ferrari seem very confident in the upgrades and since the sim has been very accurate it means they are very likely to give the gains and performance promised.

The limit to how much a car can be upgraded comes down to the cost cap. Teams need to think carefully about this and plan ahead. So the car can be changed as much as possible within the limits of the cost cap. But because changes and development are so expensive it means teams only have so many chances to take their car in the right direction for a season. Ferrari have 3 big upgrades planned for this season as it stands, the first of which as we all know is coming next race at Imola!

Another limiting factor is wind tunnel time during the season, this is determined by current standings, so since Red Bull is leading they get the least allotted wind tunnel time. So that is also a factor.

There are certain parts I believe that are not allowed to be upgraded or upgraded only once(power unit) but the aero and most other components can be changed as much as a team wants so long as it's within the cost cap.

They have described this as the SF-24 2.0. A lot of components have been redesigned, updated and replaced. The car will look different. So it's exciting especially because Charles and the team seem happy with what they have seen from these upgrades so far.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 28

(Ch. 27) ... (Ch. 1)

II Gallery II Symbol Guide II

Summary: “If we could light up the room with pain, we’d be such a glorious fire.” - Ada Limon

WARNINGS: Graphic Violence, Death, Espionage, Survivor's Guilt, the usual.

A/N: I'm so sorry it's taken me fucking FOREVER to get this out, y'all! A LOT has been going on in these past months (the demise of a longterm relationship, renovations on my house, new jobs etc) but I hope this is worth the wait! 💖

Taglist: @latibvles @softguarnere @brassknucklespeirs @mccall-muffin @lieutenant-speirs @bellewintersroe @emmythespacecowgirl @holdingforgeneralhugs @parajumpboots @hxad-ovxr-hxart @sleepisforcowards @suugrbunz @ax-elcfucker-blog @chaosklutz @mads-weasley @vibing-away @eightysix-baby @ithinkabouttzu @emmylindersson @flowers-and-fichte

Contemporary: Midnight, December 3rd, 1944. Liart Station, France.

When the door to her private train compartment was opened, Alix made a silent promise to herself: As soon as the war was over, she was turning in her goddamn resignation letter to the OSS and going home. She couldn’t handle any more surprises on the job, not like this one. 

“Sorry, I’m late, gorgeous," a lowered voice had remarked wryly as soon as the compartment door slid shut once more.

"You wouldn’t believe the traffic.”

The whisper came from a young man in a heavy coat who casually dropped into the seat next to her as though he belonged there. The dark brim of his fedora was pulled low over his eyes, casting his face in shadow, but she didn’t need to see its entirety to know who it was; she would recognize that gravelly voice anywhere. 

“What are you doing here?” she demanded out of the corner of her mouth, making sure to keep her expression neutral as she flipped through her newspaper and fought the urge to smack the newcomer with it. 

“Thought Nix woulda told ya,” Liebgott looked almost amused, a smirk playing on his lips.

He too spoke out of the corner of his mouth; someone had taught him well. 

“Donovan needed an interrogator with an Austrian dialect. Said this one’s gonna be a real doozy. Called me in as a temp.” 

Alix’s dark eyes narrowed, causing her blue contacts to sting.

“You’re the floater? You’re–” 

“Lieutenant Fritz Eberhardt,” he finished with a nod, casually taking his right hand out of his pocket to reveal the worn, silver skull ring of the Werwolf Kommandos, engraved with the tell-tale motto of the SS:

‘Meine Ehre Heisst Treue’. 

My Honor Means Loyalty.

How ironic.

The paratrooper and translator shot her a roguish wink, leaning back with an arm stretched out lazily along the back of his seat like nothing was wrong. 

“I've been assigned to accompany you to your Paris engagement, Fraulein." 

The spy stiffened.

This was the first time that she could recall ever seeing Joe out of uniform and it would be a shame to get blood all over his nice coat but sweet Jesus, Alix was about ready to make that sacrifice.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the auburn-haired girl muttered under her breath. “You’re going to get us both killed.” 

“You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me,” Joe chuckles. “Trust me-”

"Right, because that's gone so well for me before," the spy snapped sharper than intended.

Joe's eyebrows shot to the compartment ceiling, his cocky demeanor gone in a flash, replaced by a sudden scowl.

"The hell's that supposed to mean?" 

Before Alix could find the words to reply, the shrill whistle of the train screamed out, indicating their departure from Liart Station and the spy took a shaky breath, hearing the rumbling of the wheels on the track underneath them.

She was stuck with him now.

Trying to ignore the ache in her chest at Joe's unexpected presence, Alix tried to force her unfocused eyes to stare at the newspaper in her hands but the words only blurred before her.

"Didja do a bug sweep already?" Joe inquired with a casual yawn as he glanced across her to the window, while Alix flipped the page of her newspaper so hard that she nearly tore it. 

"Of course I did," the spy answered indignantly, unable to contain her irritation.

"That's why you were supposed to come early: to help me look. Listening devices could've been anywhere in here." 

“Don’t gimme that shit,” Joe scoffed in an almost dismissive tone as he tapped the filter of his Reemtsma cigarette.

“Since the liberation, the Krauts have lost a lot of resources and stick to their secret little underground social clubs or whatever. I got the whole rundown from HQ.”

Alix huffed.

Joe was right, damn him. 

While on the surface, France had cleaned up its act, the rotten undergrowth of Nazis and their collaborators remained, festering beneath the surface. 

The chances of them taking the time to bug train compartments were miniscule at best.

“Still,” she responded with a petulant roll of her eyes. “You should’ve been here on time. You never know.”

"Yeah, well you ain't the only one with shit to take care of, okay? I got held up." 

Alix's dark eyes flickered up from her newspaper. 

"Define 'held up'," she said coolly, an undeniably bitter edge to her tone. “What, pray tell, was so pressing?”

Joe crossed his arms and took a long drag off his cigarette before replying snippily,

“Wouldn’t you like to know, Tatiana.”

"It's Tanya, Alix snapped before flipping another page on her newspaper as though she were reading it instead of boring holes into Joe’s face.

“And I would like to know, actually. Because I'd like to think you wouldn't be late to your first assignment without a good reason but maybe I don't know you as well as I thought." 

“Fine.”

Joe's warm brown eyes were suddenly as hard as the wood paneling in the compartment they shared but he shifted the side of his coat up nonetheless, just enough to show a huge cherry-red stain that had blossomed across one side of his ribs.

"There, that a good enough reason for ya?" 

“Madonna mia!” Alix exclaimed, all pretense of anger gone in a flash. “What the hell happened?! Are you alright?”

Joe shrugged nonchalantly.

“Somebody did a shit job friskin' the prisoners so ol' Jerry got to bring a fuckin' boot knife with him to interrogation,” he muttered as he readjusted his coat. "'S not as bad as it looks.”

"Did you have Gene take a look at it?" Alix asked, eyeing his red-soaked shirt with concern. "That's a lot of blood…"

"No, I didn't have 'Gene' look at it," Joe shot back, a mocking edge to his voice as he spat the medic's name, biting down on his cigarette.

"’S fine. Barely a scratch." 

The auburn-haired girl snorted, unable to keep the skepticism out of her tone.

"Right, and I'm the Queen of England."

The translator took a long drag, his expression unreadable. 

“Well, I ain’t your problem anymore,Your Majesty,” he remarked sardonically as he let the smoke curl into the air.

"So you can lay off."

  “You’ll always be my problem,” Alix grumbled under her breath and the pair lapsed into a chilly silence, broken only by the occasional rustling of the newspaper under her fingertips and the rumbling of the train on the tracks.

Still keeping her head angled downward to avoid that familiar ache that seemed to rise in her chest whenever she looked him in the face, Alix let herself study the compartment instead.

In truth, their private compartment was borderline ostentatious – plush maroon upholstery upon the seating, rich mahogany paneling upon the walls, thick velvet curtains adorning the windows to keep the outside world at bay– but the spy could barely concentrate on the luxurious decor either.

Instead, she found herself studying Joe's hands. She still had only fleeting memories of him from before her fall but his hands were one of the few things she remembered the most. 

They had been paler back in England, not yet marred by the blood and grime of the battlefield, the blue veins still snaking up the back all the way to his wrist. She remembered tangled sheets and breathless laughter as they each struggled to catch their breath. She remembered her own scarlet-polished nails tracing each vein in the hand resting beside her, feeling the way his pulse would quicken when she smiled at him.

His fingers were still as calloused and long as she remembered, almost graceful in their strength, and she could still feel the ghost of them interlocking with her own like missing puzzle pieces finally finding their way together.

There weren’t any more ink stains on his fingertips, Alix realized, and she was suddenly half-tempted to make a snide remark about chasing two girls and getting neither, but she kept her silence. 

No need to make an already awkward situation worse, she thought as she chewed on her bottom lip.

Like it or not, they had a mission to complete.

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━∆∆━━━∆∆

The French countryside seemed to pass by in blurs of green, gold, and blue, like the vibrant swirls of a priceless Van Gogh but Alix hardly noticed. 

The spy had been fiddling with the worn handle of a discarded leather briefcase that had been left behind in the luggage rack under her seat. Beside her, Joe was violently twisting the Werwolf skull ring around and around upon his finger, wrenching it with such ferocity that it looked as though he might tear his finger off in the process.

"I hate this," he muttered bitterly, seemingly more to himself than to Alix as he glared down at his calloused hands. 

"I fuckin' hate this." 

"Hate what?" the spy inquired softly, cocking her head and allowing some of her auburn hair to fall over one shoulder.

Joe glanced up at the sound of her voice, clearly not expecting her to speak to him, but he recovered fast as ever.

"This," he replied simply, gesturing to the Werwolf skull ring. 

"Wearing this. Gevalt, it makes me wanna claw my fuckin' skin off.” 

Alix felt a pang of sympathy. She couldn’t even fathom the excruciating cognitive dissonance Joe must be experiencing right now, playing a role he despised…but why bother playing it in the first place? 

Why put himself through the unnecessary pain? He was only a floater– a consultant– for this one mission. He had the power to back out at any time. It didn’t make sense but then, nothing about Joe seemed to make much sense lately.

Alix watched as he lit up another cigarette, his third in an hour, glaring across her, out the window at something unseen. 

He was chainsmoking again, like he always did when he was agitated, and all she could do was let the silence sit and watch him wrench the skull ring harder and harder around his finger.

It was unsettling when Joe was quiet: his rage she could combat; his brooding she couldn’t.

The auburn-haired spy found herself sneaking quick glances over at him out of the corner of her eye, the tension hanging thick in the air around them like the early morning fog.

Surprisingly, Joe was the first to break.

“Look, you got somethin’ to say, just say it.”

“What is there to say?” Alix retorted, her grip on the briefcase’s handle tightening considerably. 

“I’m perfectly capable of traveling on my own. I don't need a floater and I certainly don't need you.”

Joe crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the seat. 

“Well tell that to Donovan then, ziskeit,” he yawns. 

"'Cause I got orders to watch your six till the job's done." 

Alix opened her mouth to complain but she was interrupted by a light knocking on the compartment door and Joe immediately shoved his right hand deep into his pocket to hide the infamous skull ring. 

A disgruntled train attendant appeared, regarding both Joe and Alix with the same beady, bloodshot stare as he stepped inside, sliding the door shut behind him.

“Papers,” the Frenchman demanded with an outstretched hand.

Alix nodded with a casual “Certainement” and set aside the discarded briefcase, retrieving her false identification from her handbag and passing it to the man with what she hoped was a convincingly haughty eyeroll. 

The attendant--whose yellowed nametag identified him as Guillaume-- wore a peevish expression almost identical to their old CO, Captain Sobel, which brought a smirk to Alix's face.

The thought of the sadistic superior officer who had made their lives hell for so long being reduced to a glorified bellhop punching tickets and checking IDs was enough to bring them both a smidgen of joy.

Her gaze flickered over to Joe, who returned the smirk with one of his own, the inside joke seeming to almost bridge the gap between them.

The attendant skimmed over Alix's paperwork, handing it back to her without issue, and then it was Joe's turn.

“You, identification.”

Compliantly, Joe dug into his jacket pocket for his passport with his left hand but as he passed the small booklet to the attendant, it slipped from his fingers toward the carpet. 

Automatically, the translator’s dominant hand shot out of his right pocket to intercept them but it was too late: the skull ring on his right hand was in full view. 

The attendant swore as he snatched up Joe’s fake Austrian passport, staring down at it and back to the tell-tale ring as his face reddened with rage.

“Y-You-” he snarled, his lip curled in disgust and a gloved finger shaking as he pointed at Joe. “You are-” 

“Wha- No, no!” Joe protested, immediately reaching out for his passport back in a desperate bid to quiet him. 

“I’m not-” 

But the Frenchman shoved him off roughly and spat an anti-German epithet at him as Joe’s back hit the seat.

“Boche!”

Joe’s eyes narrowed instantly at the slur and he came back strong, lunging forward to seize the attendant by the collar but Alix stood up, trying to shove her way between them to keep the scuffle from getting out of hand. 

The auburn-haired spy could smell the heavy stench of cheap wine on the older man's breath as she separated the pair and she knew there was no reasoning with him.

The drunken attendant spun on his heel, immediately heading for the compartment door, his final words slurred as his rage boiled over. 

“Filthy swine! Nazi pig! You-”

Alix felt a block of ice drop into her stomach as the man’s large, gloved hand reached the door handle. 

It was no secret that since the liberation, people of German extraction weren't exactly welcome in most of French polite society. 

The épuration sauvage was in full-swing, thousands of suspected collaborators being beaten, tortured, and executed by incensed crowds of French people.

If this man went and ran his mouth off about a Werwolf Kommando on the train, Joe could be mobbed as soon as he set foot outside their compartment. 

This chilling revelation seemed to flip a switch in Alix’s brain: If the man left their compartment, Joe’s life could be in danger.

She couldn’t take that risk.

Slipping behind the drunken attendant with the silent ease of a tigress, the world seemed to slow around her as her training kicked in. Hopping onto the seat for a better vantage point, Alix reached out and yanked the attendant backwards into the compartment by the collar. 

The man staggered a couple steps back, thrown off-balance in his surprise, just close enough for Alix to deftly slice the small blade of her lipstick knife across his throat.

The weapon reached the targeted arteries with surgical precision, right below the larynx. Now unable to scream, the man could only gasp and gargle as his legs gave out and he sank downwards toward the carpet in a heap. Following him down to the ground, Alix gathered the excess fabric of her dress's skirt and slapped the material over the wound to stifle the bright arcs of blood that were spurting out like a gruesome fountain.

The pale lace was already growing heavy, turning from an icy blue to a deep, blood-soaked maroon, the arterial spray oozing through the delicate material slower and slower as the man’s heart gradually stopped beating. 

Then the attendant went limp, his jaw falling slack as a sickening gurgle emanated from his cut throat, and the auburn-haired spy knew he was gone. 

No loose ends, she told herself inwardly, repeating the instructions of her superiors over and over like a mantra in her head.

He could have gotten Joe killed. You did the right thing.

But did she? 

She didn’t even remember pulling the knife, not really. 

Not that it mattered: a civilian was still dead.

Alix’s hands were shaking as she stared down at the attendant’s lifeless form, too scared to see the shock and revulsion written all over Joe’s handsome face. 

He’d never seen her kill, after all. 

If he didn’t hate her before, he most certainly would now.

But when she finally looked up, there was nothing like that. 

No disgust, no outrage, no fear.

Instead, there was the same old glint to his gaze and an unspoken warmth in his whiskey-brown eyes that filled her with a strange calm.

“Well ya didn’t hafta do all that, Zees,” Joe remarked finally as a small, lopsided smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“But I ‘preciate it. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t,” the auburn-haired girl muttered as she knelt, quickly rifling through the corpse’s bloodied uniform for anything useful. 

A billfold full of francs and an identification card from the train company.

Alix handed the wallet over to Joe, averting her gaze to ignore the way her pulse quickened at the brush of their fingertips.

“He was putting the mission in jeopardy,” she added lamely and straightened up, shifting the thick curtains to the side so she could undo the window’s latch.

“Yeah?” Joe snorted as he dragged the lifeless body by its outstretched arms to the open window and turned back to shoot her a sly wink over his shoulder.

His usual crooked grin quirked up one corner of his lips wryly, almost flirtatiously, and the knowing expression in his whiskey-colored eyes caused a small flurry of butterflies to appear once more in her stomach.

It was like he could see right through her.

“Well Ziskeit, ‘the mission’ thanks you.” 

With a grunt, the scrappy paratrooper managed to haul the corpse half onto the window’s ledge before turning back to his partner.

“Now let's get this mamzer dealt with, huh?”

Alix hoisted the corpse's legs up, giving it a final, unceremonious shove out the window, sending it rolling down into the snowy French countryside somewhere.

That was one problem taken care of...But unfortunately, there were more where that came from.

"Madonna mia," Alix swore as she frowned down at the blood-spattered blue material of her dress.

“I gotta dump this somewhere.”

Joe took his seat again and shrugged, watching Alix's nimble fingers close the window once more and re-draw the curtains.

“So change then." 

The auburn-haired girl balked, nearly losing her footing in her surprise.

“Right now?"

“Nah, next Tuesday,” the paratrooper deadpanned with a melodramatic roll of his eyes. “Christ, Zees, you're actin' like I ain't ever seen ya undress before. Hey, remember that one night at your billet when-”

“Don’t remind me,” Alix muttered, the infuriatingly obvious blush of her cheeks making her grit her teeth as the night he is referring to comes back in vivid colors.

She shook her head to banish the memories, her straightened auburn hair tumbling down her shoulders.

"Besides, it was a long time ago anyway. It doesn't matter now."

The lie tasted bitter as cyanide.

"Yeah?" Joe took another slow drag off his cigarette, watching the smoke curl up to the ceiling before he spoke again, his raspy tenor flat with thinly-veiled hurt.

"Guess that's the difference between you an' me. 'Cause to me, it matters a fuckin' lot."

[andthatsp1]

RB is so quick with fixing max's car I wish ferrari could be like that too. Charles perfect laps only yield p5 qualifying with that car, I feel like it's such a waste of perfect laps. How much do you think the temperature drop play a role in the car being this bad?

I think what we've been seeing with RBR is how narrow their setup window truly is. Several times this season, they have had absolutely horrific practice days only to turn up on saturday and be right back in it, whereas the Ferrari has generally been more of a "what you see is what you get" kind of car. Ferrari certainly knows it's weaknesses, but it's just not something that can be turned around with set-up tweaks alone.

That said, it seems like Ferrari did actually find some improvement themselves, at least in terms of drivability (less crippling understeer!) because the track temp was pretty similar between the two qualifying sessions, and while it was on the lower side, I don't think it's the only thing to blame. Lusail was never expected to be a strong track for them because the long, high speed corners are something the car has struggled with all year, a problem which dates back to the SF-23. However, the comparison in performance between last year and this year looks very promising! And we still have race pace on our side, so if they can stay on top of the graining problem, there's still a chance of moving up some.

tldr: I think the temps aren't ideal, but it’s more of a circuit problem. The Ferrari is performing better than expected, it's just that Mercedes and Red Bull found their way into the mix too.

[exclectical]

Something

Hey @chordsykat! Thanks for the sneak peek and making me feel better the other day. This one’s for you!

==================================

He didn’t look like much to the untrained eye. All limbs and not a muscle in sight. Blond locks that could use a trim toppling over a pronounced brow ridge. Sure, he was one hell of a guitarist with an affinity for unearthly dark tones and lower-than-low notes, but you’d never know for how unmistakably bright his whiter-than-white outfits always were.

But sat on the back of her Ducati, a blazing beacon in the darkness that had engulfed the desert; he was definitely something.

“It’s takes a long times to gets darks, ja? This ams whats these people call winters? Fff!”

“It’s Arizona, you Swede.”

“Woo, it’s likes an hundreds degrees, Caja!”

Before they’d dismounted, the temp gauge on the bike was reading eleven, Celsius. Warmer than Stockholm in January, for certain. It had been a while, but she still remembered her first tour of the states.

Skwisgaar hadn’t experienced the American Southwest before, and he’d been a wide-eyed wonder since their bus drove by the first cactus. He was so green that an admission of having rarely left his home town and a hint of Swedish nationalism (complete with mistrust of people from Denmark whom he was still mislabeling as Dutch) barely surprised her. 

Considering his timid nature and her status as centerpiece to a globetrotting musical hits factory, it was a wonder they ended up being friends at all.

But she couldn’t deny that he was, indeed, something special. The way he perched on the motorcycle, gangly legs scrunching his hands together as he admired the emerging light show of a million stars and one fat red moon contrasting an azure sky. So much like a storybook prince who had found his happily ever after.

So much like she was, once.

The Dane pulled a small titanium cylinder from her jacket pocket, tapped some fine white powder onto one of her keys, and took a nose full.

“You hurtings?” Skwisgaar asked, and the concern in his voice clung to the guilt she felt over doing such activities in front of virgin eyes. “We can go back to de buses.”

“Nej.” She lied. In truth, she was always hurting these days, due in part to certain occupational hazards. Which occupation had been doing more damage remained the true mystery, there. “T’is is special night. We should enjoy it.”

He smiled and turned his attention back to the universe at large. “Hej, Caja. You thinks we ams likes de stars up theres?”

Alone, cold, and burning. Sometimes, she did. “And ‘ow is that?”

“I means like special. Like how some has more lights than other ones? How everyone in the world can gets to sees the brightest ones? Likes that one!”

He kicked his long legs in a joyous display while pointing to the easily identified North Star. Even in a sky full of its brothers, even next to the great red moon, it sparkled like nothing else around it.

“Did yous evers see anythings dis..?”

“Radiant?” She had her eyes on him as she said it. 

“Ja.” He affirmed. “Dats the words.”

“I ‘ave not.” She put her head on her knee and continued to look at him, still smiling like the innocent goof he was. It made her smile, too. “I promise to let you know as soon as I do, Skwisgaar.”

She would never get the chance to make good on it. She didn’t know it, but time would have other plans for them, soon enough. A different star burned on the horizon, and in a few years, life as they knew it would be nothing like the one they were living in the moment.

But, for that brief shining moment, there was something.

[acti-veg]

Hi Acti-veg! I've seen some really promising news and wanted to share. To start, as climate change wreaks havoc, its gettin really hard for me to garden in my place of residence. Which kinda sucks because I bought some expensive grow beds during the pandemic, but nonetheless, I'll figure out a use for them, (leaning heavily towards native pollinator beds to help out the humming birds and insects in the area)

But I've been considering just moving everything indoors. We're fortunate enough to have a basement, and its temperature controlled, so Hydroponic gardening like PlantedInTheGarden's 8x8 grow tent set up on youtube. And get this! Apparently even fruit trees could be grown hydroponically if given adequate temp, space and nutrients

Do you think growing tropical fruits like citrus and avocado hydroponically could aid in [cough The Piers Morgan-esque Avocado transportation fumes debate that non-veggies are so fond of 🤭]

But more importantly with furthering the initiative and bringing accessible fruits and veggies to a wider audience outside of their climate regions? Tropical fruits with none of the tranportation CO2?

That sounds like a good idea! The lower transportation costs is really a comparatively small benefit, since transportation emissions (despite seeing a disproportionate amount of public focus from people trying to deflect from real solutions) are relatively small compared with production emissions.

The bigger win for hydroponics and vertical farming systems would be the lower land use, lack of pesticides, the lack of soil damage, lower energy and water costs and higher yield. The only real problem is that it is initially expensive to set up, and those engaged in more traditional farming methods would need better access to education on how to set up these kinds of systems.

WhatI'd like to see are government subsidies for sustainable local produce, particularly when grown for non-commercial, community consumption in urban areas. Unfortunately, we spend most of our subsidies on meat and dairy, because of the enormous influence these sectors wield in politics.

[tea-with-evan-and-me]

Part 7: The Rehearsal

"Are we going to the rehearsal together tonight?" A text from Evan.

"Absolutely. Are you coming here?" I reply

"I can. I'd like to come a little earlier if that's ok." He sends a devil emoji.

"Sure as long as you behave yourself" wink emoji

"I promise nothing."

The rehearsal is at 6 and Evan shows up at 4. He rings the bell. I go let him in and he is carrying his shoes and his outfit for the night.

I open the door and he walks in. Sets his clothes down on my couch.

"Hey, sorry I'm not showered yet" I say as I give him a quick peck on the lips.

"What a coincidence, I'm not either"

Without warning, he sweeps me up bride style into his arms making me squeal and heads for the bathroom. Once inside he puts me down and inches his face towards mine. He leans in to kiss me, but when I move to meet him, he pulls away teasingly. Then he buries his face in my neck and kisses it softly. Then the other side. "mmm you smell really good" he says.

His hands find their way under my shirt and to my braless breasts. He cups and squeezes them while he kisses me. He rubs my nipples with his thumb and then removes one hand from under my shirt to pull my hand towards his erection. I squeeze through his sweat pants and he sucks in air between his teeth. I pull his band out and tuck my hand into his boxers. He's so hard I can feel the vein in his penis and I start tracing it up and down with my thumb. Apply slight pressure. He whimpers and closes his eyes.

He lowers his mouth to my clothed erect nipples and surrounds one with his hot breath. My head falls back. He lifts my shirt over my head and tosses it to the bathroom floor. He pulls my pants down and takes them off. He breaks away and starts the shower. As he's waiting for the temp to become warm, he undresses himself completely.

He tests the water and turns the shower head on. Then he turns to me and puts his hand out to me. I take it and he steps into the shower and then holds my hand while I step in. When I'm in he gently pushes me up against the shower wall and with one big, strong hand he holds both my arms above my head. The other hand finds it's way south. As his fingers find my clit he shoves his tongue in my mouth stifling my moan. He's rubbing softly and quickly and my legs get a bit shaky. My stomach feels a little queasy as I start to feel that desire pit deep in my belly. The water mixing with my fluids makes a slick surface for his fingers. My climax is growing and it's growing fast.

"I'm gonna cum, Evan" a breathy whisper

The flicking on his fingers gets lighter and quicker. I start to get super lightheaded. I can feel it coming and I start to make soft noises that get louder with each quick flick of his long fingers. Louder and louder until I fucking explode on this man's hand. My screams sound so loud in this confined space. He carries me through and keeps flicking even though I'm super sensitive. My legs give and I start to slip down. He catches me. He presses me against the tiles with his body. The water hitting us. His erection is poking me. It's hard as a rock. He looks directly into my eyes. His look is primal and he speaks. His voice is low and lusty.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks rhetorically.

I'm breathing hard. Trying to stop the white spots behind my eyelids. When suddenly he lifts one of my legs to his hip. He brings the other one up and lifts me the rest of the way.

"Wrap your legs tight around me babygirl" he's breathless. I do as he asks and he plunges himself into me. I feel the shudder.

"Do it again, please Evan!!!"

He pulls out slow and then plunges into me again. My toes curl.

"Again!!!" I scream.

Pulls out slow and plunges. This time I'm right on the edge so I shout. "Again! Please! I'll do anything you say!!"

He pulls out and plunges. 3 times in a row. Quick and methodical. I scream his name up into the air as a second orgasm rips through me. The second is stronger somehow and pure raw screams are coming out. Those damn white spots behind my eyes again.

He doesn't wait for me to come down off my high as he starts thrusting fast and hard. He's grunting with each thrust. He sounds like a wild animal. It turns me on thinking about how hard he is for me and how animalistic he sounds. Somehow, my body wants to explode again and this time as I do my muscles clench onto him and it sends him into an orgasm that leaves him screaming. His fist hits the wall next to my head. His voice is rough and high. His eyes are screwed shut. His face contorted. I can feel his hot cum inside me. It's warmer than the water. His come down is endless. He can't stop moaning. They slowly get softer until he drops his head to my shoulder. His wet hair against my face.

He finally releases my legs and I scoot down. He stumbles backwards and I steady him.

He's breathless "I don't know if I've ever cum that hard in my life. Fuck. You were so goddamn horny for me and I felt so sexy and wanted. You felt so soft to me. It just pushed me over the edge."

I kiss his face. His nose, his chin, his cheek, his forehead. I brush wet curls away from his eyes. We help each other bathe.

When we get out and get dressed for the rehearsal dinner we both feel a bit lazy. We are running slightly late, but not by much. We are only a few minutes late arriving.

It feels good to rehearse walking with him. I feel as if I've known him for ages. I feel proud walking next to him. Especially with Blondie watching us. Evan and I share this secret that we had the best time of our lives earlier today. I feel like we are glowing.

At the dinner we sit together and hold hands as the wedding party makes speeches. I get up and say how happy I am for the truest couple I know. And how much Julie means to me. Evan makes a speech for Tom talking about years of shenanigans and support from one another. The food is so good. It's a wonderful night.

"What time do you have to be at Tom's in the morning?" I ask Evan

"Pretty early. Like 8."

"I'm even earlier than that. So, I guess we should go home separately tonight?" I say.

Evan rubs his thumb over my jawline, smiles and leans in to kiss me.

"Nat, can I tell you something?"

"Sure you can" my eyes are soft and I smile.

"I think I'm falling in love with you" he whispers

"Me too" I nod encouragingly.

"See you tomorrow then" he kisses me again

"Tomorrow" I say and smile.

👀🍿

[sheinhome]

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[campmurderparty]

jeannie & ford.

“Unsurprising!” jeannie commented with a slight roll of her eyes. Though she liked tara well enough on most days, it didn’t mean that she never had any bratty thoughts about the bartender. In general, she felt like she was the one keeping the whole of merlotte’s together (the other employees thought the complete opposite, that jeannie didn’t do enough sidework and had horrible work ethic). When she was in the weeds, no one was really jumping up to help her, but that was mostly her own fault. Everything felt like jeannie’s fault, so she tried very hard to put the blame on everyone else. The man in front of her probably wouldn’t be exempt from her wrath if he pissed her off–something incredibly easy to do.

For now, though, he was seeing her good side. Which only strengthened when he uttered his order.

A tru blood!

Ha-cha-cha, jeannie thought. An actual vampire sitting at the bar? Somehow, it felt like the busy restaurant slowed down around her. No longer did she hear arlene’s bitching about being oversat or mrs. fortenberry’s shrill rants. No longer did the bright lights blind her, lowering until there was just a halo around the vampire, the rest of the world falling into the shadow of the chiaroscuro. She hoped he was actually a vampire and not some loser that wanted to trick or scare her. One time some college kid ordered a tru blood on a dare and tried to convince her that he was going to bite her neck later when she was to leave work. He was entirely convincing.

Looking at the man now, it didn’t take much convincing to make her believe he was the real deal. At first glance, he seemed like any other customer that walked through merlotte’s doors. Just another hick in a hick town that jeannie was desperate to leave again… only that she had nowhere else to go. Bon temps was a glue trap and she was the fly that willingly landed on it, only to dream of flying free again someday. For just a brief second, she hoped that he’d be the one to free her. She heard so many stories of other girls her age that got swept off their feet by some romantic man that drank her blood and took her on extravagant vacations. She also heard about girls her age that got murdered by a hungry vampire that either blitz attacked from behind or seduced them with false promises. Maybe mrs. fortenberry was right to tell anyone that would listen to never look in a vampire’s eyes, that they could make you do things with just their gaze.

Could he compel her to do his bidding over a bartop? Was she safe from his power when he wore that hat? 

It didn’t take her a moment to believe that he was the real deal, despite the good ol’ boy accent and the uniformly outfit. Sitting at the bar, he blended in seamlessly, didn’t he? Almost seamlessly. Now that he had her full attention, she noticed there was something a little dark about him. Something that suggested a hint of danger, a hint of gravitas. A command for respect that jeannie was unlikely to give. Which made him infinitely more interesting than any other patron. Cowpoke dracula. Wow!

“Alright then.” jeannie’s smile grew into something genuine, incredibly intrigued. She began to search underneath the bar until she found the one box of tru blood that sam had leftover. The others had been thrown out since no one ever ordered them. Until now, of course. Popping back up, she brandished one bottle on the counter in front of him. “Sorry, we only have A-neg. I hope that’s okay.” putting one hand on her hip and the other on the bar, she leaned forward and watched carefully. “Oh, do you need me to microwave it or somethin’? I didn’t read the directions before I gave it to you. Oops.” she was just too excited.