#both of these shirts were $40

[j-esbian]

the way that SO many people have been conditioned (on purpose by clothing companies, let’s be clear) to think “cheap” fabric is always uncomfortable. and if it’s thin? that just means it’s soft :)

[mayakern]

Things are bad right now.

As many of you know, way back in 2020 we weren’t sure if our business was gonna make it. Our factory was already on break for Lunar New Year–a month-long holiday for many businesses in the area–and with the announcement of COVID19, everything shut down indefinitely. We knew immediately we were in for a bad time. Despite our fears, our sales grew so far beyond anything we ever expected, to the point where we had to hire two employees just to keep up with demand! 

Unfortunately, even after our factory reopened, our problems were not over. Their quality drastically declined almost immediately, to the point that a significant amount of our  fabric would literally fall apart in transit between the factory and our office. Because of this, we discovered that our sales rep had no idea what she was doing and knew nothing about the factory she was representing, so when we told her the fabric was garbage her response was “👍 factory said it’s good!” At the beginning, only roughly 10% of our new product was defective and we were able to sell the affected items with a reasonable discount. By the end of our relationship with that factory, 40% of our midi skirts and 70% of our miniskirts were defective, some affected so severely that they practically fell apart when touched. And still, our rep said everything was fine and there were no problems and the fabric composition had not changed.

So in 2022 we changed factories. We hired Ash to handle this since I was way too busy managing fulfillment to do the amount of research and communication necessary to find us a factory that met our criteria. Finding clothing factories that can make clothing over a size 2-3X is significantly more difficult than one that can’t because it often requires larger and more expensive machinery. But Ash did it: she got us set up with a new factory that has excellent certifications for both their labor practices and their methods for textile production, that delivers consistent, high quality sewing on well made fabric that can be printed without suffering loss in detail–and she was armored with the knowledge for what makes a quality garment so she could check them if they tried to screw us on quality. Their minimum orders were way higher than our previous factory’s, so we decided to focus on ordering more units of fewer designs. We ordered way too much our first round–some of those designs were in stock until the 2024 blowout sale! But it worked out, and slowly we had a warehouse full of stuff to sell.

Fast forward to 2024, business is slowing down between the economy being bad and what seemed to be a general skirt fatigue amongst our customers. We tried expanding into shirts, which would’ve been successful if our minimums were lower. In the late spring we realized we were in trouble if we didn’t make drastic changes and we ultimately decided to end in-house fulfillment and transfer to a third party fulfillment center that would support domestic shipping in Canada and eventually the UK, EU, and Australia. In order to make that transition affordable we drastically discounted everything and that sale was super successful! We were able to begin shipping from the fulfillment center with an almost clean slate, even if it did mean having to close the store for almost two months and thereby missing out on two very important months of sales.

Unfortunately, we were stupid. We continued to order new designs on an every other month schedule instead of switching to an every month schedule, forgetting that having a backstock in a variety of designs is what previously helped us float between orders and now we quite literally didn’t have enough inventory to match the sales we made for last year’s holiday sale.

That brings us to now.

We’re a little stuck. We have a round of skirts in production (yay!) but they won’t get here until February (boo!). To get back on that monthly cycle we would need to order the next round of skirts right now, but we can’t pay for production until that next round of skirts gets here; if the current sale goes well, it’s paying payroll, not production. We are currently in the very difficult, horrible situation of not having enough money for next month’s payroll unless we are somehow able to make significant sales with our very sparse inventory.

We’re scrappy and we do our best to adapt to disasters and I’m sure we’ll find a way to adapt to this one as well, it’ll just take us some time to get there. Basically we’re going to be okay eventually–hopefully later this year–but in the meantime if we seem frantic, now you know why. 

If you’re been considering trying out our viscose shirts but haven’t been able to justify paying full price, they’re on clearance PLUS half off right now! That’s $9-$15 for the viscose tops, and other tops on clearance are $20-$45. Some of the shirts we’re having a LOT of trouble selling are now priced below cost to help us recoup some of the money we spent making them.

Any amount of support helps right now. Sharing posts, telling your friends, buying a $9 shirt–all of it helps. If our clothing isn’t your thing, we also have a Patreon you can support for as little as $1 a month. https://www.patreon.com/mayakern

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you have a great rest of your day and that 2025 is a brighter, kinder year for us all.

[heavenbarnes]

I used to date an older guy (like mid 40s) a few years back and I always got stupidly turned on when he fixed stuff around his house?? Like, he just knew hot to do it and did it. No googling, just him and his tools. Feel like it would fit somewhere in your older bf Simon stuff.

god love a fully capable “fuck it i’ll do it” type of man 🫶🏼

you know that your older bf!simon doesn’t believe in hiring tradespeople for a service.

“why would i pay someone to fuck about in my home?”

“they’re not fucking about, si! they’d be fixing the sink”

“i’ll do it”

you have no doubt that simon was more than capable of fixing things around the house but you also wanted him relaxing when he was home.

turns out he couldn’t relax at the thought of another man doing something for you.

so you let him do it, you threw your hands up and waved your white tea towel in defeat as you heard him banging around in the garage for tools.

hearing the faint sounds of grunting and the occasional swear word coming from the bathroom, you thought it might pay to go and see how he was getting on.

fucking hell.

simon was on his back, arms stretched up above him as his hands dwarfed the pipe they were wrapped around. t-shirt riding up, lines of his stomach leading right to his belt, knees bent and boots firmly planted on the floor, you could honestly just-

“oi, you gonna’ stare or help me?”

now how the fuck?

“your heads in the cupboard, how did you know-“

“i always know where you are, pass me the wrench”

crouching down beside him, you handed it over and stayed down there to watch him work. scarred knuckles wrapped around the handle of the tool, other palm flat against the base of the sink so you could see the veins.

he was something else entirely.

“how d’you know how to do all this?”

“taught m’self, come hold this”

you reached over to replace where his palm was so he could have both hands back. “but why? surely other people don’t learn all this?”

“other people don’t care about their sweet’art not having to lift a finger- move your finger for me”

the more you stretched to hold the sink, the more you felt yourself losing traction with it. naturally, simon noticed before you did.

“y’need to get closer, cm’ere”

tools landing to the side of him, two large hands plucked you up till you were dropped in his lap. precarious situation but you couldn’t deny the sink was a lot easier to reach.

you stayed like that, letting simon work in peace as you enjoyed your view. honestly, he could invite you to the end of the world and you’d just be happy to hold his hand.

one hand splayed out on his chest, the other holding the sink, you suddenly felt a tickle forming at the end of your nose. before you knew it, you were pulling your hand back to scratch it- the one holding the sink.

you panicked, realising it could very well land on simon’s head. but it didn’t, it stayed completely still. face screwing up, you leant in again to give the sink a nudge only to find out it was totally fixed.

“what the hell, si? why’d you have me doing all that?”

you saw the smirk on his face as he flashed a look over at you. suddenly, you realised you weren’t the only one enjoying the view.

the hand that didn’t have the wrench came out to give you a pat on the side of your hip.

“c’mon sweet’art, i can’t get anything outta’ this?”

[xo2dee]

NOW LOADING. .

DMC MASTERLIST

40 CHIPS

PAIRING: Dante x (Fem)Reader WARNINGS: MDNI/18+ ONLY. Vaginal sex, creampie, strip poker WORD COUNT: 4,688 SUMMARY: Either his luck really was that bad, or he just liked to let you win all the time.

A/N: i've never played strip poker or poker itself so if you see any inconsistencies mind ur business,,, also had dmc 5 dante in mind writing this

On rare occasions, there were nights you got Devil May Cry to yourself, and there were night you got Dante to yourself. And on some of those rare nights, you got both in one sweet, little wrapped present. On those particular nights, you and Dante liked the up the scales in your relationship and have a little friendly competition of a game between you two to see who would come out on top for the night. Such was a night, and you and he were at it again playing a dangerous game to see who could come out on top of the other and got the ‘prize’ the other was promising.

And in your favor, you held the cards for the winning hand.

Tensions were high, your eyes glazed over in determination as you stared over your choice of weapon for the night against your opponent as he chose his next move very carefully. It was a game of chance and skill all wrapped into one, your hand a winning one as you held the ultimate dealbreaker within your fingers while your opponent continued to slip and fall and take the hits you were so careful to deal out. For once he was off his usual slight above you, his eyes squinting over his own weapon as he watched you carefully before lying down his next hit for you to counter.

And once again, he missed his mark as you dodged and laid down your next attack. His eyes quickly darted over to what you had done, then you watched the defeat cloud his eyes as he groaned and hung his head down when he understood what it meant. Jackpot, indeed.

“C’mon, babe, cut me some slack,” your boyfriend grumbled, falling back into his chair with a sigh as he eyed your winning hand of cards laid across from his.

You only shrugged with a smirk, though you couldn’t but feel like he was holding out on you. Or if his luck really was as bad as he was always complaining it was. “There’s no possible way you’re this bad…”

Dante scoffed, sitting back up straight as he grabbed at the back of his shirt with a wink, “I can still come back from this.”

A laugh escaped you, pulling another pile of chips toward you as he removed his shirt, “Right… all I’ve taken off is two socks.” One of your legs kicked up to show him the missing clothing, the rest of your clothes still on your body as Dante was only left in his pants and two folds away from losing the game of Strip Poker. The entire thing had been your idea of course, an excuse to get Dante as naked as possible while you remained as clothed as you could before you got the winning prize from him. He was too eager to play a round of Strip Poker, a cocky smirk on his face telling that you’d lose and he’d be happy for you to take your clothes off for him… Yeah, he ended up eating those words the first time he had to fold and took his coat off, claiming he’d ‘get back at you’… To which, you were still fully clothed while he only had his pants and boxers left.

The sound of him shuffling cards brought your attention back, giving the each of you a new hand before he squinted at you in suspicion, “Have you been holdin’ out on me?”

“Not really,” you flipped your cards over in your hand and held back your grin, eyeing him from over top of your cards with a suggestive raise to your brow, “maybe your luck isn’t as good as you think…” And then you laid down your hand – a straight royal flush within your hold as you grinned full of teeth and victory watching his eyes bulge as took in the symbols along the corners of your deck.

And another piece of his clothing was coming off.

“Damn,” he rubbed his hand across his jaw, immediately folding his hand as he scooted his chair back enough to begin unbuckling the belt of his pants, “this is my last piece of clothing too…”

You blinked, raising an eyebrow as he began shimmy off his pants, “Don’t you still have –”

The sound of his belt buckle clanging against the floor silenced you, and then sitting up straighter to peek over the edge of the table let you see the beginnings of his happy trail and that was too prominent and his hips were too visible for him to be wearing anything else… Leaving him to be completely stark naked… And he was just sitting there with a new hand continuing to play like you hadn’t just stripped him naked and beat him in a landslide victory of Strip Poker.

Dante scratched his chin, looking up towards the ceiling fan that you turned off before glancing at the window in confusion, “…Do you feel a draft?”

You could only gawk, wondering he’d been walking around the entire day in leather pants without any underwear before you voiced that question while your hardest to not peek up over the table to see the rest of his exposed skin, “Are you not wearing any underwear?”

His index finger came up to rest against his lips, “Shhh, pretend I am – we can keep playing,” Dante started to reach forward to shuffle the deck once more, a grin on his face as you felt your panties grow damp once you realized the victory you had won. “I can still come back.”

“Nu-uh,” you jumped forward, snatching the cards out of his hands and then pulling the rest of the stack of chips towards you in your winnings, “I don’t think so. Don’t be a sore loser, Dante.” You shifted in your seat before pressing your feet fully on the ground, discreetly rocking your hips along the chair’s seat to warm yourself up for what you had planned.

Dante seemed none too aware of your rising arousal nor the slight rocking of back and forth you were doing, holding up both of his hands in a gesture of peace as he relaxed in his seat, “Whatever, I fold, I fold…” his arms crossed over his chest, further enhancing the size of chest as you watched a bead of sweat trail down into chest hair and furthering down onto his abdomen, “So what’s this ‘huge prize’ you want?”

It was like picking up your cards and seeing a straight Royal Flush again, your win on the horizon as soon as he asked the question. But it wasn’t like Dante didn’t have a clue – he wasn’t stupid, he knew exactly was turning the gears in your mind the moment you asked him if he wanted to play Strip Poker. Of course, he could’ve been wrong and you were planning to make him walk around the Devil May Cry in nothing but an apron… though you held no such plans when you had Dante baring all and stuck in a chair across from you. And if you chair broke again… well, you’d just get him a new one.

You gave a small smirk, mischief alight in your eyes as you propped your elbows on the table and folded your hands together, “You.”

Dante shrugged, holding out his arms as he presented himself to you before you quite literally felt the heat begin to emanate off of him, “I’m all yours, babe.”

Sliding your chair back from the table, you mentally patted yourself on the back for wearing a skirt for the day… Just something about the way of Dante being naked and you completely clothed that made your stomach flip as you felt your underwear grow more and more damp. Raising one finger in the air before tapping it your nose, you told him, “I’ll give you one free pass of clothing I’ll take off.”

A lone eyebrow arched up, eyeing your body of what he could see as seemed to actually contemplate the answer before clicking his tongue, “Do I get to choose?”

You thought about it before shaking your head, having your own ideas for how the rest of the night would go as you slid your hands up into your skirt and pulled your panties down before kicking them over to him. He caught them with ease, peering at them in his palm as his eyelashes fluttered and the skin along his chest started coloring into red while you slowly sauntered over to him with clenched thighs and a smile. And in return, you got the pleasure of watching his Adam’s Apple bob with the long and loud swallow he made once he realized you were in one your moods again.

“Are those good enough?” you asked, prying them from his grip and tossing them into the pile of his clothes that lied on the floor.

“That’ll do, Captain…” Dante mumbled after a moment, eyeing you up as you held back the snort at seeing his cock completely hard and already leaking with precum before you’d even touched him. A side-effect you learned from him being half-demon; apparently everything was heightened, down to his bodily reactions (and his damn bounce back time) so much he was practically ready to go within seconds for anything. However, that never deterred him from prepping you for sex and you weren’t sure how many minutes you’d spent sitting on Dante’s fingers or face before you got to actually sit on his dick. And half the time you didn’t even need to get so riled up when you’d get so wet and horny from just being around watching him stretch his arms up and his shirt rode up to expose some of his stomach… Well, maybe you did actually, the dick size was not something to take lightly.

Wasting zero time you straddled him before latching your mouth onto his, eating up his surprised groan with your tongue as one of your hands knotted into the back of his hair and the other began a soft trek down the front of his body to his cock. Overwhelming Dante’s tongue, your fingers passed by the hair dusted along his chest, the firm, knotted row of his abdominal muscles, the prominence of his happy trail, and then you were coiling what you could of your fingers around the sheer girth of his cock. He grunted in your mouth at the squeeze, your fingers twirling of what you could in his locks as you gave slight tugs to each way you were twisting your wrist around his cock.

Feeling your own body begin to burn at the lack of attention, you sped things up a fraction as you decided to scoot into Dante close enough to begin rubbing your clit along his underside of his cock. The friction made your eyes cross beneath your eyelids, your throbbing clit twitching at the attention as you rolled your hips harder to later him up with your own wetness as well lubricate the inside of you for the squeeze you knew was coming. You weren’t in the mood for prolonged foreplay, your skin on fire and your lower abdomen doing its own acrobatic routine the entire time you were teasing him in the game and watching his clothes come off. Dante would understand later that you were in for something quick and hot rather than usual slow and passionate rounds you two were used to doing.

When you lifted your hips up and began to angle his dick to where your opening was, he grunted against your mouth and pulled away a few inches as a string of saliva connected you both before breaking. “No foreplay?” Dante asked with a knotted brow, his hands drawing patterns of what they could in your hips bones as you sighed and ran your thumb across the top of his cock’s slit.

“Dante, you’re literally leaking…” you laughed breathlessly when you watched his lips purse the longer you swiped along the head of his cock. A fast shower and grower he was, you were starting to believe he had been aroused for a while. “How long have you been imagining this?”

He paused, his fingers drumming a rhythm on your hips as he actually sat there and thought about it for a moment. Meanwhile, you were still hovering over his dick ready to take him in. “Since I started losing.”

So… since the start of the game basically. A lighthearted scoff escaped you, slightly petting the back of his head before you kissed the corner of his mouth, “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible –” Dante started to say with a breathy chuckle, only for it to immediately get lost in a choke when you took that initiative and started to sink down onto his cock with a grin on your face at his reactions.

You took him slow into you, but it still did slightly sting no matter how wet and ready you had gotten for him as someone with Dante’s size was bound to keep you on your toes. Inch by inch you slid him into you, biting your cheek and practically holding your breath the entire time as it was a few more moments before the entire brute of him was pushed inside, a gasp falling from your lips as you felt your walls stretch, constrict and throb once you got him where you wanted him. You winced a bit as you sat your ass onto his thighs, hearing him let out a choked noise as felt you the muscles of your pussy contract and flutter around the new welcomed intrusion. You wiggled a bit before sighing in content and how fucking good it felt having his hot arousal inside of you again and how full you felt with him inside of you, Dante sharing the same sentiment as you watched his eyelids flutter and a soft, whining moan drop out of his mouth.

Impossible. “And yours,” he finished his statement from before, and you got the satisfaction of the watching the tendons in his neck bulge forward whenever he dropped his head back with a louder groan through harshly clenched teeth when you suddenly clamped around him. The fingers he had on your hips quickly flexed away from you too, stopping himself from applying any pressure into your skin in case he accidentally squeezed too hard. You moved forward to press a kiss to his Adam’s Apple, relishing in when he suddenly bucked into you for the sensation and you heard an expletive leave him in a choked pant. “Fuck – I’m…  You feel so –”

Overran by the fog clouding your mind you rolled your hips once while biting gently onto his Adam’s Apple, pulling him inches out of you before rolling back down until he bottomed out in you with a soft moan. The tapping of his fingers was back onto your hips, his sign for you to continue since he had gotten adjusted to feeling you around him as you complied to his request. With your clit and cunt throbbing and feeling him pushing against your walls so hot and insistently, you began to move your hips rhythmically against his and enjoying at how he seemed to become literal putty in your hands every time it happened. You could already feel your body beginning to hum in delight from each way his cock slid along inside of your pussy, speeding up a bit as you watched his expression fall apart into pure pleasure in such a short amount of time.

You lifted yourself up off him, lethargically pulling him out of you and the slow slide of his girth making you grip him harder while biting your lip to keep from whining out. Once he was back out and his tip kissed your folds, his thumbs started to rub circles into your body before you buried him back inside of you at the same pace yet that time the stretch was tighter as you clenched up to get a better feel of his heat. The action of you pushing him back up into the hilt of you let a breathless moan fall out of you and a grunt from him, you tossing your head back once more with your eyes fluttering while his lips kissed at the spot underneath your chin.

Dante clenched his teeth and a hand shot up to grip your breast with a hiss pushing through the cracks of his teeth. No doubt he was fighting against himself with the scrunching and releasing of your soaked, hot cunt around his cock combined with your words, the atmosphere brewing once more as you became hot with arousal and wanted to roll your eyes back at how he felt inside of you. He groaned roughly, fingers digging into your breast as he spoke roughly with a hint of a whine, “Hand – Please –” Dante panted, and you understood the words enough to understand what he wanted.

The hand you had placed on his shoulder trailed down teasingly until you were at his pert and pink nipple, pinching it in-between two fingers with various twists as Dante pelvis began to jerk up into you from below. You started to move faster then, bouncing on his cock instead in delicious rolls as he pulled back far enough to watch himself disappear into you with a groan, watching your folds open to accommodate him and stretch as far as it could once he was into the deepest part of your cunt. One of his hands moved from your hip to slightly press down onto your lower abdomen, the act causing you to release a louder whine for him as it began to feel like his cock was nudging up into your skin there and into your guts.

“Mmm, Dante,” you sighed out, taking him out until only his swollen cockhead inside of you before quickly sheathing him back into your warm, soaked, plush cunt with a smooth roll. The continuous action coaxed more of the lewdest and loudest noises from him, God – “You feel so good,” you moaned out, nails digging into his hair while you pulled and tweaked at his nipple before you pulled him back to kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, just like that – fuck.” A raspy grunt escaped his throat at your words, his teeth biting at your lip as your hearing tuned into the sound of your ass smacking against the skin of his thighs and the distinct noise of your cunt slapping with your juices with every dive of his cock. He was borderline looking like he was about lose his goddamn mind, and that was only fueling your desire to ride him faster and harder enough to point you actually did end up breaking the chair again. It was already beginning to squeak and whine from all your movements, and you knew if you got any more aggressive it would collapse underneath you both mid hip roll.

“Not gonna last long, babe,” he admitted, a clumsy buck of his hips up into yours making him hiss as you curled your hands back into his hair to rear his head back far enough for you to mark up his neck once more.

Dante’s words enflamed you, your cunt clenching and throbbing as a hard curl of pleasure panged down into your clit from his little confession. It had seemed he had thrown all composure out for time being in favor of bowing to your will and doing anything he could to feel that level of euphoria again. You made up your mind, the specter burn behind your naval too much to bear while your need to have him completely burst into you furthered your speed and aggression.

You pulled away from mouthing at his jawline from him, fluttering your fingers around his torso and abdomen drawing into the hairs you could feel all around him as you switched to bouncing on him instead. You were delighted in the way he suddenly reared his head back with a curse, neck stretching harshly as you tried your hardest to push him into cumming before you did that time. You wanted – no, needed to watch it; wanted to see him finally fall apart as he came inside of you.

As hard as you were trying to as well, you could feel your own release on the cusp so you had to speed it up before you lost the little one-sided game you were playing with him. You mapped your hands back up his chest, the sounds of your sweaty skin slapping obscenely loud before you used one hand to pull his chin away to look at you and used the other to pinch at his hard nipple again.

The thought of him cumming inside of you was embarrassingly enough to unravel you, the ball of pleasure inside of you brimming to its near once more and your pussy fluttering each time you sank back onto his cock in a hard bounce. You swallowed before opening your mouth, a breathy moan leaving you before you goaded him on again, “Dante, are you gonna cum?”

Your breathy question and the louder and filthier your mouth got earned you the noisy groan you had been wanting, one his hands sneaking down to take two fingers to your swollen clit and begin rubbing away at it in those mouthwatering circles. It caused you to squeeze around his cock once more and in result his hand faltered from its ministrations as it sent pleasurable spikes up in his spine from how sensitive he was getting fucking you. You knew what he was doing though; he was trying to make you cum again before he did.

Ever the gentleman.

Incapable to help himself he began to snap his hips up in time with yours, panting needily as his cock throbbed when your pussy clenched from the sudden support. He groaned while those calloused palms drifted from the respective areas up to squeeze your breasts once and then slide back finding purchase on your ass and gripping into the flesh there. Desperate to fulfill the burning fire at his base, he began to guide you along, pushing you up and down in time with his thrusts to bring you both closer to completion.

“Oh, God,” you gasped, falling back down atop of him and hiding your face in the crook of his neck to muffle your increasing cries and moans. That coil was twisting inside you, uncomfortably tight and fueled by your own teasing the entire day before you could feel it begin to unravel as you continued on.

In response to your comment he tried to pick up the pace, slamming into your pussy from below while he kept you in place. “Shit –" That was all Dante managed to croak out, too busy choking over his own whines and groans while he felt that hotness growing at the base of his cock. The twitch it gave inside of you was hint enough he was ready to come undone and spend himself inside of you.

You could worry about the repercussions afterwards.

It was so hot – so fucking hot – and everything smelled just of him, your frontal lobe losing all other thoughts but just Dante pleasuring you so fucking good and about to make you cum from all his whining. God you were right there; so fucking close, but you wanted him to cum first.

Your squeezed your eyes shut and threw your head back whenever your hips instinctively rocked faster and twisted harder onto him as your brain decided to settle on you just reaching that sweet, sweet bliss. The air around you two was blistering, his cock so hard and so hot inside your trembling you nearly couldn’t hold on any longer. Yet, you had to give him what he wanted –what you wanted as well – before surrendering to that euphoria.

You could barely hold onto him any longer, every part of your bodied slicked with sweat and your limbs beginning to fail you as you tried to hold on for a moment longer. You met his eyes once more and almost toppled over at how hard he was watching you move over top of him and possibly remembering every expression you made to his mind for his own want.

It was too much. You needed it.

“Cum inside of me – Now, Dante.”

You got the satisfaction for a brief second to watch his eyes roll back at the last words before your head lulled back from the harsh release of his orgasm. He groaned louder than he had before, hips jerking upwards in you ruthlessly as he spurted out everything he had into your pussy that so greedily took it and contracted around him with each pulse of his cock to bring more out of him. His cum was almost seemingly never-ending as each sudden stab of his hips in you had another stream of it filling up your cunt in thick, warm bursts. The new heat in you had you moaning once more in debauch contentment as you felt it gush up through you and completely coat your insides with his warmth until you felt like you were literally being stuffed full.

Dante jerked a few more times trying to calm himself down until he groaned again whenever you suddenly came all over his sensitive cock. As always, Dante cumming inside of you alone was enough to make you cum.

The prolonged moan that left you was all but a whining variant of his name and the octave enough to raise hairs on the back of necks. The coil in you unraveled fast, the pressure behind your naval falling away from you as if the wind had been knocked out of you and in consequence your bones and muscle tendons tightening up as you rode through it. His hips were slightly thrusting into you all the while your cunt clenched around him to find purchase for ground as the sounds of your gushed pussy and his ministrations grew until you were writing away from his touch as you began to throb in the aftermath of cumming. It was so much, and yet at the same time, not nearly enough of him.

You shook for a bit as you finally finished, hands placed back on his chest as you heard his heavy breathing come through your conscious first after pulling through the boisterous noise of your heartbeat hammering in your ears. You gave a sigh as you lifted off of him to free yourselves both of any possible overstimulation, wincing when he seemed to pop out of you and biting your lip when you felt your cunt already gap open from the loss of him and the telling of his cum beginning to slide out of you in a slow stream.

With your limbs relaxing and your eyes fluttering with the blinks of clarity, you suddenly fell forward onto his body and to your surprise his arms caught you and curled around your back as you laid there for a long moment. In the massive rush of hormones and emotions you two lied there with time losing meaning to you both if only for few moments, breathing rapidly in an embrace with your eyes glazed unaware of the surroundings for a long while until Dante took a rather long inhale and exhale and then laughed under his breath.

“Remind me to manipulate your deck next time we play again.”

The words made you pause, your brain taking a few seconds to catch up with what he said before you pieced the puzzle together on what he said. No fucking wonder you won way too easily. Leave to Dante to shit himself out of luck that way you’d get riled up enough to nearly break his chair while fucking him.

“You can’t be serious…” you groaned with your cheek squished against his chest, your body jostling as he started into a full-blown laugh.

“Oops, did I say that out loud?”

[spaceyaemonds]

pairing: dr. jack abbot x reader

sum.: you have a one night stand with an extremely attractive older man, but it doesn’t seem like you’ll see him again. fate has other plans, it seems.

warnings: age gap (jack is late 40s, reader is 23) unexpected pregnancy, light smut, reader and jack have both been drinking but are very eager/consent is definitely there. MDNI

notes: i am still working on former stripper!reader, but this came to me and i had to get it out. i think this will be a series of smaller drabbles, instead of a full one shot, but idk, what do you guys think/prefer? unedited. any feedback is extremely appreciated, especially reblogs/asks!

wc: 1.3k

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You meet Jack Abbot in a dark bar on a Thursday. You, drug out by your friends, begging you to just let loose for once. Him, alone, on his last night off for the week, mentally preparing to go back to work the next day.

You caught his eye from across the room, and feeling brave, and of course egged on by your friends, you make your way over to him.

The first thing he does is ask you how old you are, to which you give a cheeky response of old enough. At the unamused look you receive, you tell him you’re twenty-three.

Jack nearly choked on his drink at that, and nearly tells you that you’re too young for him. But the pretty and cheeky smile you give him makes a small smirk appear on his face, so he doesn’t.

The second thing he does is order you a sweet fruity drink and a double shot of whiskey for himself.

One round turns into two which turns into three. You laugh a lot, and he laughs at your laugh. Jack tells you briefly about his time in the army, and in turn you tell him about your evil boss that you just know is out to get you.

I’m an ED doctor, he mumbles in your ear after you ask what he does for work

An eating disorder doctor? He snorts at your question.

“No, emergency department, like an ER,” You blush as he laughs at you, nearly choking as he downs the rest of his whiskey in one go.

You don’t even realize that you had effectively abandoned your friends and had been talking to Jack the entire night until one of them comes to ask if you’re ready to go.

You look at Jack, sheepish smile on your face and a glint in your eyes.

You end up at his place, his mouth on yours and calloused hands pawing greedily at your tits under your shirt before he even gets the door closed.

“Your skin is so soft,” He mumbles as he leaves open mouthed kisses from the corner of your mouth to your neck and back up again.

You moan, “I like the way your hands feel on my skin,”

Your hands tangle in his hair as you force his mouth back on yours, teeth clashing as his tongue fights yours for dominance, ultimately winning when you distract yourself trying to get his shirt off of him.

As quickly as his shirt comes off, he has you topless, your shirt and bra tossed somewhere in his living room.

The rest of the night is a blur, but you know he fucked you in some way, shape, or form on nearly every surface of his home, from eating you out on the couch, to fingering you until you managed to squirt all over his countertops as he made you drink water to stay hydrated, to fucking you dumb on his cock in at least six different positions on his bed, and once more pressed against the shower wall before putting his shirt on you and holding your body pressed up against his body while you slept the entire night.

The next morning the two of you chatted over breakfast. No awkwardness, he goes out of his way to make you laugh over his disgusting coffee, as so affectionately deemed it.

He doesn’t ask for your number, so you don’t ask for his. You kiss the side of his mouth as you leave him.

Jack goes to work, business as usual, but he thinks about you every day for the next eight weeks. Wondering if your boss ever let up on you or if you tried that new Italian place you were wanting to eat at.

You spend the next eight weeks stressed beyond belief. Work eating at your soul and consuming your entire life. You do think about Jack almost every day, contemplating going back to that bar just to see if he’s there.

But you don’t ever get the time, and your next meeting is an unexpected one to say the least.

Slipping on the wet floor in a grocery store was embarrassing, but hitting your head on the way down was mortifying. You were going to have to find a new grocery store.

The situation just keeps getting worse as the paramedics show up, telling you they have to take you to the emergency room since you show signs of a concussion and your nose is bleeding.

“Hi, I’m Dr. Mohan. I hear you took a bit of a fall?” The doctor is pretty, and her smile seems genuine as she talks to you.

“Uh, you could say that. This all could’ve been avoided if they had a wet floor sign out at the grocery store, though,”

She laughs, “You would be surprised how often we see that here,”

She starts going through the usual string of questions you get at the ED. You answer them all until she gets to the last one, “And when was the date of your last period?”

All of a sudden, your mind is blank. Surely you’ve had it, right? You had to have.

“I-I guess I don’t remember,” It comes out a whisper, and your brow is furrowed as you try and try to remember. You know you had it.

Dr. Mohan senses your inner turmoil, “No worries, we can do a blood test,”

She takes your blood and tells you she’s going to go order a CT for your head, “just sit tight.” With a mind smile, she’s gone.

You sit there, trying to rack your brain. There is no way you’re pregnant. No fucking way.

It takes what feels like an hour for Dr. Mohan to come back, ultrasound machine in tow, “So, I have your test results, and it does appear that you are pregnant. We’ll have to do an ultrasound to confirm how far along you are, but after that we should be able to get you to CT,”

“What the fuck.” Is all you can manage, eyes wide as you look at her, “Are you, like, certain?”

She places a hand on your own, squeezing in a comforting manner, “The ultrasound will be to confirm, but blood tests are rarely wrong,”

She gets you situated and pulls the gown up so she can rub the probe over your abdomen, “I am hopeful we won’t have to do this vaginally,”

She quickly places the cold jelly on your abdomen and runs the probe over it, trying to find a fucking baby. You feel like you might throw up.

“And there they are,” There’s a smile on her face and she shows you.

“Oh my god,” You think you’re in shock “I think I’m gonna throw up,”

“Oh!” She quickly steps into action, grabbing a bucket and rubbing your back while you vomit.

“I think this is the worst day of my life,” She gives your shoulder a squeeze.

“The vomiting could be due to the fall you took,” She bites her lip, “CT is pretty backed up, let me go get my attending to see if he can take a look and find something that can get you moved up the list. I’ll be right back,”

She quickly walks out, and you feel tears building quickly in your eyes. How the fuck could you let this happen?

And now, you’ll have to awkwardly face Jack and tell him your passionate night has resulted in this situation.

He didn’t even ask for your number for crying out loud.

Your downward spiral is interrupted when Dr. Mohan returns, with the last person you wanted to see right now.

“This is my attending, Dr. Abbot.” She gestures to him. “Dr. Abbot, I have a twenty-three year old female, approximately eight weeks pregnant with a possible concussion,”

You don’t hear another word that passes her lips, eyes glued to him, and he looks just as shocked and horrified as you feel.

[omgthatdress]

Hippie fashion, for iconic as it is, is incredibly hard to pin down. There were no major designers, and it wasn't appearing on the pages of Vogue or Harper's Bazaar. Extant hippie gear from the 1960s is incredibly rare. There's very little of it in museums, and when it appears for sale, it's often at a very high price.

I've been agonizing for weeks about how to define it.

Fashion is, as always, a reflection of societal values, and this is especially true for hippie fashion. At its center was rejection, as loudly and colorfully as possible, of the neat, tidy, and heavily gendered aesthetic of the 1950s.

This is why men with long hair was such an essential part of the hippie look. In the conservative American mindset, a man having short hair was a part of his proud, rigid masculinity, and anything longer than a standard military crew cut was both effeminate and unkempt.

Hippies were anti-materialists, hence the fact that they didn't have any major designers (although many designers took inspiration from hippies later on). Valuing hand-crafts, a lot of clothing was hand-made, or came from small artisan boutiques. This is where "vintage clothing" started being a thing, as they recycled clothes from the 1930s and 40s to fit their style.

Much inspiration came from Eastern cultures, especially those along the so-called "Hippie Trail" that ran from Europe, Turkey, through the middle east, to Afghanistan and Nepal, and then to Thailand.

Because they valued nature and natural things, they wore natural fibers and natural materials, often including buckskin and leather. Combining the love of the natural with the idea of free love, nudity was a big thing

And, of course, underlying all of this, was psychedelics. It all combined to make the hippie aesthetic.

The truth is, it's not the clothes, it's how you wear it. A lot of hippie style was just jeans and t-shirts worn with long hair and a disdain for The Man.

Hippie fashion is extremely fun and worth taking a good look at.

Check out this exhibit that was put on by San Francisco's Bellevue Art Musum

[the-froschamethyst4]

Young Gf and Older bf

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Simon Ghost Riley Headcanons

SFW & NSFW

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SFW

Older bf! Simon who didn’t know how he felt about having a younger girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who was getting called “old man” by his girlfriend

Older bf! Simon who learned the hard way that some girls have expensive taste

Older bf! Simon who doesn’t talk much about his girlfriend to his mates, he feels like they’ll get on his ass about dating a young girl

Older bf! Simon who did most of the chores around the house

Older bf! Simon who stopped caring what he wore in front of people because his girlfriend is his little hype-man

“Does this work?” Simon asks coming into his shared bedroom with his girlfriend, she rolls on her side to look at him.

“They don’t match your shoes, Si.”

“What?” He looks down. “I thought they did.”

“Here, go try this on and come back at out.”

Older bf! Simon who told his girlfriend about his time in the military

Older bf! Simon who forget how young his girlfriend is, so when he makes jokes or says a movie reference she doesn’t know what he is talking about

Older bf! Simon who was honestly scared to meet his girlfriend’s family. She told them about Simon being older but not how old he was

“And how old are you, Simon?” Her dad asked leaning forward.

“I’m…40”

“40!!”

“Y/N?!”

“What?! He treats me good, he respects me, guys my age want that trad wife, Simon doesn’t, I can do or say what I want around him and feel good about myself.”

Older bf! Simon who knows everything about you. How you like your coffee, what time you’re suppose to be up for work, and he even knows when you’re about to start your period, you know when he shows up at home with bags full of pads and tampons and her favorite foods and drinks

Older bf! Simon who starts watching shows with you but complains about them but deep down he actually likes to watch them with his girlfriend

NSFW

Older bf! Simon who woke up to you in t-shirts and no shorts or pants, he likes seeing you in a t shirt and panties

Older bf! Simon who has woken up to morning wood before and needed help to get rid of it

“Love,” he kisses the shell of her ear. “Love…wake up,” he coos.

“Hmm~ Simon, not now please.”

“I know, love, you don’t have to do anything,” Simon lines himself up at her entrance and pushes himself into her

Older bf! Simon who like after argument sex

“Fuck you!”

“Oh yeah? Fuck me?” Simon carries a smirk on his face.

“Back up, Simon,” Y/n says putting her hand up on his chest to keep distance.

“Fuck me right? Fuck me?”

“Wait, wait,” your legs didn’t work for a few weeks

Older bf! Simon who tries different things with you, like BDSM you both hated it because it’ll be painful for you and Simon didn’t like you hurt

DDLG, he knows the age gap between you two but he hates the word ‘daddy’ makes him cringe

Mask kink, you both loved it, giving the illusion you were being fucked by someone else and he liked feelings your hands in his face

Voice kink, you liked it because of his deep voice already, he was on the fence, not saying your voice is annoying or anything he just didn’t get it

Knife play, you got scared when he accidentally dropped the knife and it was very close to your hand, it was the same thing with gun play you were afraid something wrong might happen

He tried to be a sub but you could barely take it seriously

Older bf! Simon who has fucked you when you were doing your work, you worked in a private office and all he had to do was shut and lock the door and bend you over your own desk

Older bf! Simon who is handsy when he’s horny

“Simon what do you want?”

“I want nothing,” he says as one of his hands were on your waste and the other snacks up to your breasts giving you a gentle squeeze and you gave him a soft moan.

“Just do it already, Simon,” she moans

Older bf! Simon who has kept a pair of your panties in his pockets and has forgotten about them before, he remembers when he accidentally sticks his hand into his pocket and feels the lace

Older bf! Simon who bought a motorcycle and takes you with him as his backpack, he found a abandoned place were no one comes to and you two had a good fuck on his bike

[bananayuyu]

Lust is in the Air

Pairing: Hongjoong x f reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Your best friend drags you along to a family wedding, wanting to add some fun to your all too serious life. Turns out her uncle is the one who really provides the distraction.

Warnings: smut, MDNI, age gap (Hongjoong is 40 reader is 23), some talk during sex about the age gap so really don't read this if you don't like that, some dom/sub dynamics, throat fucking, degradation and praise, bratty y/n, use of pet names (baby, doll), ass eating, anal, unprotected sex

A/n: Sometimes I see a random video of him and I'm reminded all over again how hot I think a very mature Hongjoong would be. Especially if he was mocking me and making me feel pathetic. Yeah this was pure horny, quite filthy for me. This isn't as proofread as my normal stuff so apologies for any mistakes

Read it on ao3

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Well, maybe it was a good idea. You had been staying in every weekend since the breakup, and maybe being forced out of the house would be good for you. Force you to interact with a few people, to actually put some effort into your appearance. Maybe put on a little makeup, or actually brush your hair.

"Please don't say no," Beatrice says through the phone. "My family would love it if you came, and I'd love it if you came. And we haven't had a chance to spend a weekend like this in forever. There will be free food and free booze!"

"I know you're worried about me, Bea," you respond, sighing.

"I'm not inviting you out of pity," she says.

"I know, I know. Just, give me some time to think it over. I've got an assignment I need to finish for one of my classes, I think it's due this Sunday night. So if I can't finish it this week I'll need to do it this weekend," you reply.

"Okay, just text me. I'm not gonna invite anyone else as my plus one, if you don't end up coming. So no rush, take your time," she says.

"Thank you. You know I appreciate you so much," you say, sighing into the cushion of your couch.

"You know I feel the same," she says, sighing too. You'd both been through breakups recently. It seemed like your hardships always occurred on nearly the same timeline, making you both able to rely on each other for understanding. And she knew getting you out of the house, especially for a weekend wedding, would be good for you. Her cousin's family was rich and hadn't held back in their planning, booking the fanciest hotel in town for everyone. They were paying for everything; the food and drinks of course, and everyone's hotel expenses. You'd knew you'd go. You'd try to finish the assignment beforehand. But even if you didn't, you'd still go.

Driving up to the front of the hotel together felt surreal. Beatrice had asked to take your car, as it wasn't the bright purple color that her's was. This place was fancy, and though neither of your cars were deluxe, at least your's was black.

"Miss McArthur?" the valet asked once you rolled your window down.

"Yeah, that's me," Beatrice said from the passenger seat, reaching over you to hand him her ID. "This is my plus one, y/n. She should be on the list."

After a brief look at his clipboard the man gave you both a satisfied nod. "Do you ladies have any bags we can carry up for you?" he asked.

"Yes, in the trunk," Beatrice answered for you, which you were grateful for. You'd never interacted with a valet before, never been in such a fancy situation in your life. You stumbled out of the car a bit awkwardly, your jean shorts and t-shirt looking ridiculous next to the suit and tie of the man in front of you. He held out his hand to you and for a moment you paused, wondering if he was offering to take your hand. But then you realized he was actually offering to take your keys. Duh.

"Thank you," you said quickly, heading around the car to meet Bea as you walked behind the man carrying your bags.

On the sixth floor you entered your shared room, a spacious and beautifully decorated space with a huge window covering the far wall. It was a sliding glass door, that led out to a balcony overlooking the river below. In the afternoon sun the water glittered, but you knew the view at night would be the real show, absolutely magical.

"Everyone is meeting in the restaurant at 7," Bea tells you, glancing at her family's group chat.

"Well then I've got a little over two hours to make myself look at least a little bit nice. Like maybe I actually belong here," you laugh, opening your bag to grab the casual dress you'd packed.

"Oh dinner tonight won't be fancy, wear whatever," Bea replies, kicking off her sandals.

"Okay but, with your cousins family not fancy would still probably be a little fancy, right?" you ask.

"You don't need to worry about fitting in, dude. No one will care," Bea replies.

"I just don't want to look like an idiot," you say, eyeing her.

"Y/n, you really need to stop worrying. This weekend is about us having fun. I'm not even that close with my cousin Amana, to be honest. We'll probably barely interact with her family. But we get to attend this fancy wedding, all expenses paid. Just wear whatever you feel like, do whatever you want to. Just promise me you'll have some fun," she says.

"Okay, fine," you respond, rolling your eyes jokingly. "I guess I'll try to enjoy this super nice luxury hotel for the weekend."

Bea laughs in relief, at hearing you joke around. It was what you both needed more of; you both had serious work and school lives already to contend with. And seriously disappointing dating lives, too.

As seven approaches you both make your way to the elevator, pausing at you exit the door to inspect the slight amount of makeup you'd put on. You hadn't worn any in weeks and it made you feel really pretty, along with the flowly sundress and sandals you'd decided to wear. You weren't always one for such feminine clothing but today it felt right, and you both bounced down the hall, spirits high. Bea led the way through the lobby to a long hallway, past what looked like a bar and some other room that had a bouncer, to the large restaurant at the end. Immediately you saw the long tables lined up, clearly set up for the wedding party. This wasn't the dress rehearsal, just the welcome dinner. It was only Friday, and the wedding wasn't until Sunday. Immediately you spotted the wine and appetizers filling the table, scanning the tables to try to find your seats.

"I can't find us Bea," you laugh, awkwardly walking past family members you'd never met before.

"Y/n, you're at our table," you hear a familiar female voice say, and turn to see Bea's mom.

"Oh, hi! Thank you!" you say as you walk over to her, giving her a quick hug.

"So glad you could join us sweetie," she says, gesturing to your seats. "See, you and Beatrice are near the end there, across from Nathan. Oh and have you met Beatrice's uncle Hongjoong before?" she asks, gesturing down the table.

You look down to see Beatrice sitting, pulling her chair under her and smiling wide. Across from her, in a casual but fitted grey t-shirt, a man smiles back, handing her a glass of wine he's just poured. He is striking, with jet black hair and tattoos, piercings donning his right ear. His jaw is sharp, his teeth perfect when he smiles. He looks maybe 27, 28. He's wearing an expensive watch, or at least a watch that looks expensive to your eyes, and a small simple chain necklace. His hair is cropped short at the sides; he looks so put together, so professional. So mature. So fucking attractive.

"That's Bea's uncle?" you ask her. It's not just his age that makes you ask. It's the fact that he's basically your dream come true. You see the muscles in his arm flex as he pours Nathan a glass too, and it makes your eyes cross for a moment.

"Well technically I think he's a second cousin, once removed, or something like that. He's a part of Wooyoung's family." Wooyoung was her husband, Bea's dad. You'd met her parents, and her brother Nathan, but never anyone else in her extended family. And you struggled to recall ever hearing about a Hongjoong before. You stared at him a moment before he moved his eyes over to you, catching you off guard. His look was mischievous, like he wants to play or mess with you. It made it hard to believe this was someone Bea called 'uncle.'

"Do you want to sit?" Bea's mom asked you.

"Yeah, sorry," you smiled at her, making you way down.

"Y/n! This is my uncle Hongjoong, and Hongjoong, this is y/n," Beatrice says as you pull out your seat next to her.

"Very nice to meet you," he says with an outstretched hand, his handshake strong and confident in a way that makes your body tingle.

"You as well," you reply, with a bashful smile. Immediately Bea asks you a question and you respond on auto-pilot, not even really hearing. Because your head is swimming in water just from being in this man's presence, and you can't focus. You don't even notice the glass of wine he'd poured you until he sets it down by your appetizer plate, gently bumping the stem on the rim of the plate to make a gentle clink. The sound makes your eyes snap up, and for some reason he looks amused.

"Oh, thank you," you say to him, bowing your head slightly. That mischievous smirk is back on his face when you lock eyes again, like he's trying to tell you something, but you can't be sure what it is. You certainly hope he's thinking what you're thinking. God, he's fucking stunning.

Those are the only words you speak to each other for the entirety of dinner. With so many people in attendance the restaurant is loud, louder still as everyone becomes tipsy, and then outright drunk on the unlimited wine.

"Hey, my parents want me a Nathan to go take pictures with them on the golf course nearby. They booked a photo shoot or something," Bea tells you, rolling her eyes slightly. "I'm not sure when we'll be back but feel free to like, go to the hot tub or do whatever around the hotel," she says.

"Okay, sounds good. Thank you, seriously," you say as you hug her. "I hope it's fun."

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," she laughs. "My parents and their family photos," she shakes her head, making you giggle, as she slowly makes her way to meet her brother at the front door of the restaurant.

You take stock of yourself for a moment, making sure you have your phone and your wallet in your purse, making sure your room key is still in your wallet. You take the last swig of your second glass of wine, patting yourself on the back for not overdoing it this first night when basically everyone around you did. You start sipping on your nearly empty glass of water too, knowing you don't want to wake up hungover tomorrow. The table is basically empty, with everyone slowly clearing out or making their last requests at the bar. You decide you'll go explore in a moment, go scope out the pool and hot tub situation, and maybe see if you can figure out what room is behind that bouncer. But just as you start standing up, Hongjoong approaches the table.

"I got some more waters for the table, but it looks like they've all left," he chuckles, his arms full.

"They went to do a family photo, Bea said," you reply, stuck for a moment awkwardly between sitting and standing. Hongjoong nods, like he already knew.

"Oh, were you about to leave too? Don't let me keep you," he says, the glint back in his eye again.

"I was thinking I'd go take a look at the pool and hot tub, maybe explore a bit," you say. It sort of takes you by surprise that you're sharing this with a total stranger, given your usual instinct to not share anything with people you don't know. You easily could have excused yourself, and been exploring the hotel alone. But deep down you know why you're sharing it. You hope he picks up on that reason, too.

"That's a great idea," he says, gently setting the waters down. "Mind if I join you? I was thinking of exploring the hotel some myself."

Bingo. You smile, eyes fluttering at him for a second. You truly don't even mean to do it, but the way he looks at you has you feeling shameless.

"Sure, I wouldn't mind," you reply, stepping out from your chair and gently pushing it into the table.

"Want to take a water with you?" he asks, holding one out.

"I don't think we can just take the glass with us," you reply, narrowing your eyes at him.

"Oh, who cares," he says glancing over his shoulder, seeing all of the wait staff occupied at the bar with everyone's last minute orders. "I'll carry it out, if you're that worried," he says, cocking his head slightly to the side and eyeing you with what must be mock pity.

"Fine," you roll your eyes at him, trying to fight the smile forming on your face from betraying how much his tone and facial expression are affecting you. You turn around and start strolling out of the restaurant, not even waiting for him. Once you're exiting he's already caught up, two water glasses in hand. You turn to your right, heading for the lobby.

"Wrong way, y/n," Hongjoong says lowly from behind you, making you stop in your tracks. "The pool is out those doors at the end of the hall."

"The sign in the lobby says the door to the pool is by the front desk," you reply, looking over your shoulder at him. The hallway is dimly lit, and the shadows on his face make his jaw look even sharper.

"Well that door also leads to the pool," he says, gesturing to the end of the hall. You just stare at him a moment, not sure why you feel the instinct to argue. "You don't believe me?" he asks, chuckling and looking you dead in the eye, before obviously snaking his gaze down the entirety of your body. Now that he's standing you see the fitted black pants and black dress shoes he's wearing, making his outfit look even more professional. His thighs look strong, and his stance is one of confidence, his entire demeanor cool and collected. You want to come up with a witty retort but can't think of anything, so you just start walking the way he's said to, again passing him by without slowing down to meet him. You open the doors gently but don't stop to hold them for him, brattiness taking ahold of you. Maybe it's the fancy hotel, or the wine, but you feel like a princess who deserves whatever she wants. And right now that's to piss Hongjoong off a bit, and see the pool.

"I thought nice girls hold doors open for the elderly," he says once he's exited too, sidling up to you. You stand by the long edge of the pool, taking in the lights below the surface that dance through the water. You turn to him and roll your eyes, taking the water glass he offers you immediately. "So, what do you do?" he asks.

"I'm still in school, I'm in my senior year," you say, turning back to the water. "And I work part time as an administrative assistant in the Dean's office, to help cover some of my tuition."

"College senior," he says, like he's mulling it over. "So that makes you how old?"

"Guess," you say, turning to him again, this time with your whole body.

"22," he replies. His voice low, like he's hesitant to say it.

"Close, 23," you say, not lowering your voice to meet his.

"And how old do you think I am?" he asks you, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Mmm, like, 38?" you joke, squinting your eyes as you look intently at his face. The feeling of wanting to piss him off still hadn't left you.

"How astute," he replies, nodding. "People usually think I'm younger."

"You're actually 38?" you ask, bewildered.

"Actually, 40," Hongjoong replies, making your eyebrows shoot up.

"You're lying," you say, rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him.

"Wow, second time tonight you've thought that. I don't know what I've done to make you think so poorly of me," he replies, that mischievous look again painting his face.

"Oh, shut up," you say, rolling your eyes harder this time, wanting to reach out and playfully punch him. Or maybe not so playfully. He's looking more and more perfect by the second, and his attitude, the way he's just so confident and calm, is making you hot and bothered. You know it maybe it's wrong, but now that you know his real age you find this whole scenario even hotter. If you were honest with yourself you'd always dreamed of fucking an older man, but the few you'd gone on dates with or had the chance to talk to had always been so immature, insecure, and underwhelming. Just like all the other guys you'd dated. It was a massive disappointment to learn that age didn't often give people that self-assured demeanor that you so desired. But clearly it did sometimes; the proof was standing in front of you.

"That wasn't very nice," Hongjoong replies, fixing you with a look of disapproval that makes your thighs clench involuntarily, as the two of you stare each other down merely feet apart. You hold his gaze as long as you can before you look down at your feet, his stoic demeanor feeling like a brick wall you can't break through.

"You're very pretty, y/n," he says, stepping forward to lift your face up to his.

"Really?" you ask him, eyes wide. Playing it just the way he likes.

"I know you know how pretty you are, you've been giving me those eyes all night," he says, looking like he disapproves. "You're a bit of brat, too, aren't you?" he asks, his hand moving to the side of your cheek.

"No comment," you giggle, and he grabs your hand, bringing it to his upper arm. You grab onto his bicep as he moves his hand to your waist pulling you two closer.

"Dance with me," he says, pulling you slightly into his chest.

"There isn't any music playing," you say, laughing. And it's the way that he doesn't just automatically laugh at your little comments that really gets you going.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you didn't like me very much," he says seriously, pulling you in and starting to rock you back and forth. You dance together for a few minutes, no words being exchanged as your bodies get used to the proximity, as your mind begins to swim again, even more so now that his hands are on you. You want him to kiss you, do anything, now, but he keeps his hands where they are, still leading you around in slow circles. Fuck it, you think. You lift your hands to his face and pull him in, your lips meeting in a perfect kiss, his hand on your waist moving up your back as he holds you to him, leaning you back as he deepens it. You hold steadily onto his bicep for balance, your breathing fast as you stick your tongue in his mouth, not hiding your desperation. You don't care to, not when you've spent two months without this feeling, tortured over the idea that no one at your school would ever consider you an option after your last relationship ended the way it did.

And just when it seems like you're the only desperate one, Hongjoong moves his hands down, running them up your thighs and under your dress to find your panties. He finds none, much to his surprise, which makes his dick harden even further. He gropes your ass, deepening the kiss more, making you arch your back in neediness. And then he snakes his hand around, slowly moving to your core, before suddenly running a finger over your slit, making you gasp. You've forgotten where you are, totally engrossed in the feelings he's giving you. You buck your hips against his hand, moaning pathetically into his mouth, your legs feeling like they might give out on you. He starts circling your entrance, finally pushing one finger in maybe an inch, when you finally remember where you are.

"Wait, fuck, not out here," you say, pulling back from him. He pulls his hand away immediately, his fingers glistening in the lights of the night.

"You don't want everyone to see?" he asks, a smirk on his face.

"Not when the people paying for me to be here could see," you say. Your lips look swollen and wet from the kiss, and it makes him want to grab you again.

"You're the one who kissed me," he says, his voice low. And you know there's more he's implying, that you weren't just the one who kissed him but that you had rocked against his hand, had wanted his touch. That you'd kissed him desperately, making him unable to stop himself. The implication is inappropriate, the accusation he's laid on you not fair in the slightest. He has no way of knowing what you were trying to make him do, or what you wanted to happen. You hadn't said a word. And yet, he's totally right, making it hard for you to respond.

"That's-," you sigh, your pussy still throbbing from your proximity.

"My room is on the 7th floor," he says.

"Okay," you reply. It's all you can say. You stand completely still, stuck to the spot, waiting for him to move. Instead he puts his wet fingers in his mouth, sucking off your slick in one smooth motion, humming in satisfaction. Your mouth gapes at his lewdness, struck now by just how visible you both obviously are.

"Let's go," he says, motioning his head towards the door.

Your legs move automatically, your mind playing over and over the visual of him licking his fingers, the look of utter bliss on his face. As you walk the hallway he comes behind you, putting a hand on the small of your back, making your body melt into him slightly. It feels good but you gently remove his hand, not wanting anyone to see. You pray that neither Bea nor any of her family are in the lobby when you enter, and thankfully, your prayers are answered. Nor does anyone join you two on the elevator, which makes you willing to stand closer to Hongjoong than you would any other stranger. But still, you don't touch him. As you both exit you walk behind him, almost enough space between you that you could believably look like two total strangers, walking to separate rooms. Until he unlocks his door, holding it open as you slip inside, like you're really not supposed to be in here.

As soon as he closes the door he's pulled you to him, his back slamming into the wall as you nearly crash together, the air between you thick with lust.

"I'm almost twice as old as you, y/n," he whispers in your ear, feeling your pussy clench against his thigh that you're straddling, your mouth on his neck. "You like that," he states, not even asking you anymore. "You like that I'm way too old for you. Too old to be touching you like this."

It's wrong, so wrong and you know it, but the further he pushes it the more you're surrendering to what's happening, to what your body truly craves.

"You've never been fucked right by those stupid boys at your college, have you? You need me to fuck you right, to show you how good you can feel. That's why you were bratty with me, you wanted me to be riled up. Want me to fuck you hard, like I'm mad. Like I'm punishing you," he growls, his breathing heavy as you bite down on his neck, sending sparks of pain and pleasure through his head. "Fuck, you really want me mad, don't you?" he asks and you whine in response, your whole body tingly with anticipation.

"Get on your knees," he says, pulling you back from him, your hair already a mess from his hands, the straps of your dress falling down your shoulders and nearly making your tits spill out. "Open your mouth," he commands, and you follow immediately, your wide eyes looking up at him in desire, his thumb running over your bottom lip. "I like when you do what I say," he says, pinching your cheek and making you blush, the praise making your insides turn to jelly. He unzips his pants smoothly, undoing the button and swiftly pulling out his hard cock, the tip a slight shade of red and already leaking slightly.

"Look what you did to me," he says, palming himself, your tongue nearly falling out of your mouth as you salivate over his beautiful cock. "I thought for a moment I'd have to come up here and deal with this all on my own, after you eye-fucked me all dinner," he continues, slowly stroking his length, moving closer to your open and waiting lips. "I should have known you weren't wearing any panties from the way you were acting," he says, gently running his tip along your outstretched tongue, spreading your spit around your face with it and making a mess of you. "No bra, no panties. You wanted to be fucked tonight." Slowly he enters your mouth, gently holding your head as he pushes further in, gently tapping the back of your throat and making you gag. You moan, your pussy clenching around nothing, wanting him to fill all of your holes at once. "That feels good, doesn't it. Gagging on my cock," he smirks, your eyes fluttering closed as he pushes in again, this time a little harder. "Eyes on me baby, don't look away," he says, slowly beginning to fuck your throat, gently enough not to choke you but deep enough to make you repeatedly gag, your spit covering his cock and running down your chin, your face a complete mess. "Fuck, your mouth feels good," he groans, his face scrunching up in pleasure for a moment, before he looks down to meet your eyes again, which are now glued to him, glued to every change in his expression, every flick of his tongue across his bottom lip. "I'm gonna go harder baby, I know you can take it," he warns you before picking up his pace, his cock nearly bottoming out in your mouth as he holds your head in place, repeatedly fucking into your throat. You're automatically swallowing around him, your body's reflexive actions taking over. "Fuck, so good," Hongjoong sighs, your head feeling light from the lack of oxygen and your body swimming in pleasure. You could let him use your throat all night if he wanted to, especially if he keeps talking to you like that. Like you're dumb and you don't even know what you want. Like he has to tell you or you'll never figure it out.

Finally you choke hard, your body instinctively pulling you back, and he pulls out of your mouth letting you catch you breath, stroking a hand through your hair. You run a hand across your mouth, trying in vain to clean yourself up a bit, wiping the saliva on your dress and staring up at him open mouthed, your entire body covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Hey, don't ruin this," he says pulling at your dress, moving behind you to help take it off. He slowly undoes the zipper, gently pulling the straps down and off your arms before helping you stand to step out of it. Completely bare, you stand in front of him, his hand coming up to spank you, grabbing your ass hungrily in his hand. You yelp at the impact, like you weren't expecting it. Like you hadn't been sticking your ass out ever so slightly, arching your back to add to the affect. "Don't write checks you can't cash, doll," he says, making you giggle and turn your head to face him, a look of utter delight on your face. "It really makes you happy when I scold you, doesn't it," he says, staring you down.

"Why are you so clothed?" you ask, finding your words.

"You want to see me naked?" he teases.

"Just seems like you're hiding something. Maybe under all that nice clothing you're really not that built," you laugh, knowing it would strike a nerve. It wasn't hard to tell that he cared about his figure.

"Go sit on your hands on the bed," he retorts, his eyes narrowing, as he starts taking off his watch, undoing the clasp on his chain. He sets both down on the table gently, pulling his shirt over his head next, revealing that most of his abdomen is also covered in tattoos, his broad shoulders and broad chest. Slowly he sits on the side of the bed to untie his shoes, periodically looking up at you to make sure you haven't moved, moving almost comically slow. You wriggle in anticipation, watching him slowly reveal himself, his muscular thighs finally on display to you as he pulls down his pants and boxers, his cock hard and a deeper shade of red now, still glistening from your spit.

"Lay on your stomach," he says, moving over you when you oblige, raking the hair out of your face so he can see you. "This is what you get for sticking your ass out," he says, swiftly moving down to lick over your hole, making you gasp at the coldness of his tongue. Immediately the feeling runs to your clit, your entire crotch alive with pleasure, your back arching instinctively to meet his movements. He spreads your cheeks to get better access, moving his tongue in quick circles around your tight entrance, your body slowly relaxing from the pleasure he's providing.

And suddenly he's off of you, reaching into his bedside drawer and pulling out a bottle, swiftly lubing the fingers of his right hand and moving them to your waiting hole, gently pushing one in. You groan, the tight muscles stretching already, your body arching even further to give him the perfect angle as he gently starts pumping in and out of you.

"You like getting your ass eaten, I knew you would. So dirty," he says, making you whine in agreement, your brows scrunched together in pleasure. Soon he adds another finger, the stretch again making you groan, your body instinctively tightening up at the intrusion. "I know you can take it," he says, not even attempting to comfort you. "Don't brats like getting their asses fucked?" he asks, his words making your clit ache, your body finally releasing again as he works you open with two fingers, taking the opportunity to quickly add another. "I knew it," he says, satisfied with how quickly he's stretched you open, how pliant your body is in his hands, how he's getting exactly what he wants from you. Still fucking you with his fingers, he opens the lube bottle again with his other hand, generously dousing his achingly hard cock. Gently he pulls his fingers out of you, frozen for a moment staring at the way your hole has opened up, nearly drooling from the visual.

"Spread you legs," he says, pushing your knees apart himself, pulling you ass up towards him, just where he wants you. Lining himself up, he slowly pushes in, the stretch even more severe this time, making you whine in pain, your breaths short and stifled with your head now shoved into his pillows. "What, you can't take it? Is it too big?" he asks, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "My little brat can't take my cock in her ass?"

Tears start forming in your eyes from how turned on you are, the pain a secondary feeling as it all starts to feel just right, as it starts morphing into only pleasure as your muscles finally relent. You feel like you're being split open, like you're opened up more than ever before, like he's gutting you from the inside. Finally he bottoms out, reaching into you further than you thought you could feel, your clit throbbing painfully with need.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groans from above you, brushing a hand along your cheek in an almost sweet gesture, seeing the single tear stain on your cheek. He waits a moment, waiting to feel if your body is ready, and suddenly your hips are moving into his like your body is begging him to move. He slowly pulls out, almost all the way, then thrusts back in, making you gasp at the intense pleasure, your breath nearly getting caught in your throat. Grabbing your hips he starts forcefully thrusting, chasing his own pleasure as he's sucked into your ass, the tight muscles threatening to make him come in an instant. Desperate for some relief you move your hand to your clit, desperately trying to circle it as he rocks you hard with the force of his thrusts. His eyes are glued to your ass, glued to the way his cock looks buried inside you, and your face, the way your mouth hangs permanently open as you moan in earnest, clearly not controlling a single sound that is coming out. The raw sounds make him fuck into you even harder, the way you sound so pathetically fucked out, like you can't believe this feels so good. Eventually his eyes roam down again and spot your hand, swatting it away in an instant, his anger boiling up again.

"Is my cock not enough?" he scolds, his voice gravelly from breathing so raggedly, the air in the room stiflingly hot. In this position it's hard, but quickly he finds a good angle and lands a sharp smack on your clit, the pain lancing through your core like lightning, and suddenly your whole body is shaking, your nerves completely on fire. "Even with my cock buried in your ass you want to piss me off, don't you?" His voice is raised, nearly to the point of losing control, but still very calculated. He lands another sharp slap on your clit, this time not as hard, but in an instant your orgasm washes over you, your whole body shaking hard as you squeeze down around his cock making it hard for him to keep moving.

"Fuck, baby, shit," Hongjoong curses, his climax hitting him by surprise, his cock milked by your tight walls squeezing down on him, your body taught with just how hard you came. His orgasm crashes over him fast and hard, his body going limp just after yours does, as you both collapse in a pile on the bed, his cum coating the walls of your ass in silky wetness. Your legs are still shaking, tucked up underneath you, his cock still buried deep inside. The position is awkward but you don't even feel it, the pleasure still rippling through you as you breath hard into the soft pillow. Hongjoong crashes onto your back, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, his chest and stomach rapidly rising and falling from his heavy breathing. His skin feels sticky and hot against yours, his hot breath fanning over your cheek as he plants a kiss there, intently watching your face as you come down.

"I'm gonna pull out now, okay?" he asks, eliciting a hum of agreement from you. Slowly he pulls backwards, his cum spilling out of you the moment he's pulled out entirely, spilling down your ass cheek onto the bedsheets. Hongjoong makes his way to the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself up before grabbing a washcloth for you, dousing it in luke warm water. Coming back to the bed he gently moves you onto your back, to the side of the pool of cum. He gently wipes you down, making you moan when he brushes over your clit, making himself chuckle.

Glancing over at the clock beside his bed you see it's nearly 11pm, your mind spinning. Quickly you move to the ground to rummage through your purse, glancing at your phone to see a text from Beatrice reading 'I'm back now, don't stay out too late miss.'

Be back soon, you write back.

"I should be going," you say, trying to stand up, your wobbly legs making it difficult. Hongjoong is at your side in a moment, stabilizing you, helping you to sit down on the bed while he grabs your dress off the floor. You hastily pull it over your head, running your fingers through your hair and feeling the knots that have formed. Quickly you zip the back of your dress, shove your phone in your purse and stand to slip on your sandals, not wanting to keep her waiting. The sudden quietness of Hongjoong also has you feeling slightly on edge, and really your head is just spinning, from every unexpected thing that happened.

"I'm not still mad, you know," he says gently, grabbing your hand as you move to breeze past him.

"Yeah?" you ask, looking at him with confusion.

"You don't need to still be acting like a kid who is in trouble," he says, kissing your hand. "That was just, that. You can talk to me like anyone else, now."

You eye him, swallowing thickly. What does one even say, now? Could he tell how inexperienced you were with hookups?

"I'm not sure what's going on in that pretty head of yours. I hope it's happy thoughts."

You nod, a smirk playing on your lips. You're speechless, unable to think a complete thought. It all just plays in your head, his tongue on your ass, his fingers stretching you out, his cock pounding into you so hard. And the smack on your clit, the way it made you come so fast, the ghost of the feeling still present in your core.

"Not those thoughts. You're gonna jump me again," he laughs, and finally you smack him, punching his arm soon afterwards. Pushing past him you walk fast, opening his door and spinning around, your eyes piercing as you meet his.

"What, you can't take my teasing?" he asks, but suddenly his door swings shut, your face gone in a flash.

As you saunter down the hall to the elevator you feel fucking amazing, swinging your purse over your shoulder and flipping your hair to the side, your sleepy eyes boring holes into the metal doors.

Well, she did tell you to have some fun. You just hoped Beatrice wouldn't be too mad you fucked her uncle.

[no-144444]

the grid reacts: getting caught making out!

featuring: Oscar Piastri, Charles Leclerc, Daniel Riccardo, George Russell, Alex Albon, Lewis Hamilton, Max Verstappen, Lando Norris

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

Oscar Piastri 

It was just meant to be a small peck, but then he wrapped his arms around you, and it escalated. It had all started with a tiny peck, just before you left his driver’s room to leave him time alone before the race, but Oscar had very persuasive lips (and a very persuasive tongue). He lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he deepened the kiss, holding you impossibly close. Then he sat down on his physio table, making you straddle him as you got as turned on as he was. You two had time, right? His hands grabbed anywhere and everywhere, exploring your body, despite knowing it so well. You whimpered into his mouth as he squeezed your ass, making you jolt forward. He smirked as you pulled back, throwing him a look of annoyance. 

“Let me kiss it better?” he smirked and you playfully hit his chest, and he pulled you back in for another kiss. "I love you."

“Oscar! We’ve been calling you for-” Lando’s voice rang out as you scrambled to get off of him, but Lando had already seen. You buried your head in your hands, embarrassed and trying not to laugh as Oscar pulled his cap off of his head and covered his bulge. Lando burst out laughing, nearly falling to the floor as he realised what he’d walked in on, and you got up to leave, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and giving Lando a kick on your way out. 

You: We are never doing that again. Top 10 most embarrassing moments of my life. 

Oscar: Ok WatchMojo. 

You: Sassy man apocalypse. 

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

Charles Leclerc

Charles was a horny man after races. No matter how tired he was, he had to have you. That’s how you ended up in his driver’s room with his lips on yours. He was intoxicating. His sounds, his lips, his tongue. Everything. 

“Mon coeur,” he bit down softly on your collarbone. “Tu es trop belle pour être vraie-” (you are too beautiful to be true)

“Shut the fuck up and fuck me Charles,” you said, out of breath. He had a habit of trying to take things slowly, especially in risky places. You were almost sure he had a thing for doing it in public. He smirked down at you and pressed his lips to your again, using one hand to start to undo your trousers. 

Suddenly the door flew open and you both sat up, hitting your head off of the other’s head, both of you groaning out in pain. 

“Connerie,” he hissed, holding his forehead. 

“Motherfuck!” you groaned as Arthur stared at the two of you dumbfounded, his cheeks red. 

“I’ll just… come back later,” he said, then closed the door behind him. 

“We’ve just traumatised your little brother,” you sighed, hiding your face in the nape of his neck. 

“He will survive,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. 

“Too bad my pride didn’t,” you added, making him laugh. God, you loved his laugh. 

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

Daniel Riccardo 

He was a slick bastard. One ‘I need help with my suit babe’  and there you were in his driver’s room, your shirt being pulled off and new hickies being left over the fading ones. It had been 2 weeks since you’d seen Daniel, too busy to come to the last race, and then you were travelling for a friend’s wedding. Now you were back, and Daniel was planning on showing you just how much he missed you, 40 minutes before the race started, aka, when he was already supposed to be in the damn car. 

“Daniel, we should stop just-” You started, thinking about someone walking in on you two. Sadly RB didn’t give their driver’s fucking locks on their doors, probably because of Baku 2018… yeah, you and Daniel weren’t exactly quiet, and he wasn’t exactly happy after that race. “Slow down.”

He pulled back, smirking up at you. “Baby, come on, we have a bunch of time, and I haven’t seen you in 2 whole weeks, who’s going to walk in?”

You nodded and pressed your lips to his again, allowing your conscience to fall away with the way he was kissing you. Kissing Daniel was like nothing else. Everything else fell away, there was only him. 

But who would walk in? Yuki, probably. 

“Daniel- WOAH! LOCK THE DOOR!” he screamed, alerting the entire motorhome of your actions. You quickly pulled your shirt back over your head as he ran out. As Daniel laughed for a solid minute, you tried to get over your loss of dignity. Yuki sure did make things interesting.

“I have no lock arsehole!” Daniel laughed. 

“You do! It’s the weird thing above the handle!” One of the mechanics shouted back. You walked over to the door, turning the thing above the handle, and the door locked. Daniel laughed even harder. 

Once you finally stopped Daniel from laughing, you both walked out to the whole team clapping and whooping. 

Yeah, not your finest moment. 

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

George Russell

His stupid dumb pretty face. He just looked so kissable, and you couldn’t help yourself. He was covered in champagne, and he was supposed to be using these 5 minutes to shower and change, but you had other plans. You ran him to his driver’s room, started kissing him, and didn’t stop. He didn’t seem to mind, even if it meant he wouldn’t get to shower and he’d just be champagne-y all night. He pushed you against the wall, his hands on your waist as you ran your fingers through his hair. His soft, gorgeous hair. 

His hands travelled up, taking your top with them and you smirked. 

“Getting handsy?” You smirked. 

“Never,” he shook his head and pulled your top off, beginning his assault on your neck. 

“George! Get out of the fucking shower, you can condition later- OH FUCK OFF!” Aleix, his trainer shouted and ran back out the door. George did the gentlemanly thing and covered you, but not without laughter. 

“George!” you hissed as he laughed. “Give me my top!” 

He handed you your top and quickly changed into a new suit, spraying himself in deodorant. He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek with one last chuckle. “It's a good story for the grandkids,” he shrugged, leaving you with a smile as he went off to do interviews.

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

Alex Albon

Alex had finished in the points again, and you were just so proud of him. Since he’d gotten out of the car you’d kissed him many a thousand times, but he wasn’t complaining. Actually he’d started making out with you about 3 minutes ago, and something in his kisses told you he wasn’t planning on stopping.

“Your mom will be here any minute,” you reminded him, pulling away. He rolled his eyes. 

“Did you seriously just mention my mom while I had a semi?”

“Had?”

“You mentioned my mom!” 

You chuckled and pressed another kiss to his perfect lips. He pulled you back in, kissing you deeply as his hands ran through your hair, messing it up, but you didn’t care. It felt too good, he felt too good. He nipped at your lips, coaxing them open so he could push his tongue into your mouth. His hands slowly went further down, dangerously close to where your top zipped. 

“Alex,” You warned, breathless. 

He smirked up at you. “For a minute?” 

“Alex-”

“Alex? Are you in here?” George asked, walking in. The Brit was stopped in his tracks when he saw you on his lap, hiding your face in his neck as you tried to contain your embarrassment. He hadn’t even seen anything, but your cheek heated and you wanted the floor to swallow you up.  “Oh, sorry for cockblocking, chat later.”

You both started laughing when he left. 

“We need to start locking the door,” he sighed. 

“I think I’m in shock, I thought that was your mom!” you cried, your breath finally going back to normal as Alex laughed at you. 

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

Lewis Hamilton

It wasn’t fair how good he looked in his media day outfits, and he knew it too. He knew you’d pull him to the side and tell him to meet you in his driver’s room, he knew he’d come, and he knew he’d get to fuck you. 

So there you were, in his driver’s room, his lips on yours as you both desperately pulled each other’s clothes off. 

Too bad you forgot to lock the door. 

“Lewis have you- HOLY SHIT WHAT THE FUCK MY EYES!” Lando immediately covered his eyes, turning around as you dressed yourselves. Did you feel guilty? Yes. Did you care at all? Not really. As soon as he left, would you two continue? Probably. “HAVE SOME SHAME AND HUMILITY PLEASE?”

Lewis laughed. “What do you need now?” 

“Bleach for my eyes, maybe!” Lando’s voice cracked and he turned back, his cheeks red. “I need an extra ice pack if you have one.” 

Lewis nodded and got one of his ice packs out of the freezer in the corner of his room. “Here.”

Lando took it and left without another word. You looked at Lewis, shaking your head. 

“I thought you locked the door,” you smirked, allowing him to wrap his arms around your waist and kiss up your neck. 

“That’s funny, I thought you did,” he smirked. 

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered. 

“I don’t really care.”

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

Max Verstappen 

He’d won (again), and he was horny afterwards (again). As soon as he was done with the podium and the main interviews, he ran to his driver’s room and called you to meet him there, needing some ‘support’.

“Max,” you hissed as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand, kissing down your neck. 

“Yes?”  he answered innocently, pressing his lips to yours again. 

“You have interviews-” 

“Fuck the media,” he whispered. “I want you.”

“Max this is a bad idea-” 

Just then, the door swung open to reveal Daniel, holding a camera. 

“You two need to keep it down, we can hear you down at RB!” he laughed as MAx started blushing, pushing his friend out of the room. They fought for a moment, but Daniel eventually left you two alone. Max sat beside you, letting you lean into him. 

“He’s going to post that, isn’t he?”  You asked. 

He nodded. “Yeah.”

You’d never have a day of peace with him, but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

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

Lando Norris

He was a sly bitch. It started as small pecks on your neck and the top of your head, then it was kisses on the lips, and now he had his tongue down your throat as you ground down on him, even though you both knew he was needed elsewhere.

"That's it," he whispered, loosing himself in the feeling of the both of you. "Feels so good."

You nodded, in pure ecstasy as you felt his hands and lips on you. "So good Lan."

His hands pulled you closer (if that was even possible) and you smiled into the kiss. This was the perfect moment-

"LAN!" Zak brown's voice pulled you both out of it, and you scrambled to get up.

Lando sighed as you left his lap and groaned out a simple "What?"

"We need you for a marketing thing, come on, chop chop!" Zak was as oblivious and cheery as ever and you could barely contain your laughter at Lando's 'annoyed teenager' face, as you and Oscar had started calling it.

"Bye baby," you pressed a kiss to his cheek, and he fought back the urge to ignore his duties and just go back to the hotel and spend the rest of the day with you.

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

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[mercvry-glow]

break in the system

paring. jack abbot x wife/doctor!reader

warnings. age gap (jack late 40s, reader early 30s), hospital setting, descriptive child injury and recovery, no death, jack and reader are parents of a 6yo boy, no physical descriptors used for reader, reader has a sister, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. always in my dad!jack era, please feel free to send me idea like this I serious love them so much. please enjoy, this one is a nice hurt/comfort fic. as always please enjoy and any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 2400+

It was a rare, golden kind of morning. The kind you almost didn’t trust, because it was too smooth.

Jack had brewed coffee before either of you had to ask. You’d packed Mason’s favorite snacks while he sat sleepily at the kitchen island, rubbing his eyes and swinging his little feet under the stool. He was wearing his Spider-Man shirt today, matched with a pair of black shorts. His soft curls sticking up in every direction.

Your sister arrived just after sunrise, toting a canvas bag filled with activities and snacks and promising him a park trip and a stop for ice cream if he was good.

“You ready for a super fun day with Aunty?” she asked, ruffling Mason’s hair.

“Super tired is more like it,” Jack muttered around his coffee, but he kissed your cheek and then bent to kiss the top of Mason’s head too. “You be good, buddy.”

“I am good,” Mason answered, matter-of-fact.

You all laughed. It was one of those small, perfect family moments you didn’t think to savor until later.

At the hospital, the day passed in that rare, deceptively smooth rhythm. You took vitals, gave meds, reassessed post-op pain levels. Jack floated between trauma calls and consults, his voice calm and clinical when needed, still managing a wink when your paths crossed in the hallway. The familiarity of working alongside him was strangely comforting—a rhythm you’d both mastered through the years of shared chaos.

It was nearing noon when you finally took a breath. You leaned back in the break room, sipping lukewarm coffee, your phone resting silent on the table. You stared at the lock screen—Mason’s smiling face, missing front tooth, sunshine and freckles—without even realizing you were smiling at it.

Jack walked in and flopped down across from you, stretching his legs out with a groan. “Quiet today. I don’t trust it.”

“You never trust a quiet shift,” you replied with a soft laugh.

“Because quiet means it’s coming,” he said, tapping his temple like he could feel the shift in energy.

You shook your head, teasing, “Your trauma-sense tingling again?”

He was about to quip back when the trauma pager went off.

You both jumped—not dramatically, but instinctively, the way people do when muscle memory kicks in before thought.

Jack unclipped his pager and read aloud: "Level 1 peds trauma, ETA 2 minutes. Six-year-old male. Head trauma with LOC. Fall at park."

Your stomach dropped a full three inches. Jack went still beside you.

It wasn’t unusual. Kids came in hurt all the time.

But your brain was already moving ahead, shuffling information like puzzle pieces, trying to ignore how familiar it sounded.

Six-year-old. Male. Fall at the park. Level 1 trauma. Loss of consciousness.

It was just a coincidence.

Jack stood, voice a little tighter now. “Come on. Let’s go.”

You moved in practiced sync, already heading toward Trauma Bay 2, the air feeling a little thicker than it had ten minutes ago. You didn’t say it—not yet. Not even to each other.

You didn’t say anything.

Because you couldn’t. Not until you knew, and gut feelings didn’t count for the truth. 

And the moment the trauma doors slammed open and you saw the flash of a small Spider-Mant t-shirt beneath bloodied gauze and an oxygen mask—and suddenly your world tilted.

It was him.

The trauma bay erupted into controlled chaos the moment the gurney rolled through the doors.

You were at the foot of the bed, frozen for half a second before instinct kicked in. Jack was already moving forward, eyes locked on the little boy lying so still under the oxygen mask.

You didn’t even have to say his name.

The Spider-Man shirt. The Freckles. The curls matted with dried blood. It was Mason.

“Oh my god,” you whispered, barely audible, before your training took over like a switch flipping. But that voice—the parent voice—it never shut off. Not this time.

“Six-year-old male,” the medic rattled off, breathless but focused. “Fall from monkey bars, about six feet. Witnessed loss of consciousness, about two minutes. Regained briefly, then vomited twice. Unresponsive en route. GCS was 8, now trending to 6. Possible seizure activity reported by caregiver. No obvious long bone fractures. He was wearing a helmet for his bike earlier—removed at the park.”

You didn’t realize your hands were trembling until Jack grabbed your wrist gently. His voice was firm, steady—the voice of a trauma attending—but his eyes were glassy with panic barely held back.

“You can’t be in here,” he said lowly, eyes flicking toward the doors.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. I can help.”

“No—you’re his mom right now. Go.” His jaw tightened. “Please.”

The please hit you harder than anything else. You backed away, your legs feeling like they weren’t fully connected to your body anymore, your heart hammering as the rest of the team swarmed your baby.

Jack turned to the team. “Let’s move. What’s his pressure?”

“Ninety over fifty-six. Pulse 142.”

“Get a stat head CT. I want neuro and peds trauma paged now. Two large-bore IVs, hang NS bolus. Let’s get a collar on until we clear his c-spine.”

You backed into the wall of the trauma bay, peering through what felt like glass separating you from your husband and son. Your hands pressed flat against the cold surface as you watched your husband slip into a version of himself that didn’t exist at home. Dr. Abbot. Commanding. Composed. Making rapid decisions while your son—your Mason—lay still under fluorescent lights.

Your sister appeared moments later through the open door, eyes red, cheeks tear-streaked.

“I’m so sorry—he was fine, he was running—he always runs ahead—he just slipped—he hit the back of his head—he was okay for a minute but then—”

You pulled her into a tight hug, holding on for dear life. “It’s okay. You did the right thing. You got him here.”

Inside the bay, Jack’s voice cut through the buzz: “GCS is still six. Pupils reactive but sluggish. No external bleeding beyond scalp laceration. Let’s move now—CT and labs.”

As they wheeled Mason away, Jack followed, casting one last look back toward you through the window. His jaw was tight, but his eyes broke in that second.

You nodded once, already following down the hall toward radiology.

The hardest thing you’d ever done was not run in there and scoop your son into your arms.

But right now, Mason didn’t need his mom, he needed doctors. 

The CT suite was silent except for the rhythmic click and hum of the scanner. You stood just outside the control room glass, arms wrapped tight around yourself, watching Jack through the sterile glow.

He hadn’t left Mason’s side. Not for a second.

The techs were gentle, fast, and professional. Jack kept one hand near Mason’s foot the whole time, the other tucked against the side rail, whispering barely audible reassurances—things like, “You’re okay, buddy. Almost done. I’m right here.”

Even though Mason couldn’t hear him.

Even though your baby hadn’t opened his eyes once.

The scan ended. The attending radiologist had already been called down—an older, calm-voiced man you trusted completely. He pulled up the images, and when Jack joined him at the monitors, you followed, swallowing hard.

“There,” the radiologist pointed. “Linear parietal skull fracture, left side. No depression. He’s lucky.”

You exhaled shakily, but it wasn’t over.

“Contusion here,” he continued, circling the left temporal lobe. “Localized cerebral edema. No midline shift, no herniation. Small subgaleal hematoma along the occiput—probably from the initial impact. No signs of active intracranial bleeding.”

Jack nodded, arms crossed tightly over his sturdy chest, voice strained. “What about seizure risk?”

“Moderate. The contusion is sitting near cortical tissue. If he did seize en route, it’s not unexpected. You’ll want continuous EEG. We’ll monitor ICP closely for the next 48 hours. Neurosurgery should take a look, but this is non-operative for now.”

Your breath caught. Non-operative. You clung to the word like a rope in the dark.

“He’s stable enough to go up?” Jack asked.

“PICU? Absolutely. Intubate if his GCS drops again. Start seizure prophylaxis—Keppra, likely.” and with that it ended, short and sweet and not enough all at the same time. 

The elevator ride up to the PICU felt like moving through water. You were allowed to ride alongside the bed this time, one hand brushing Mason’s tiny fingers. 

They felt too cold. Too still.

His face looked smaller without his usual noise, his bursts of energy, the chatter. They’d cleaned most of the blood from his hair, but you could still see dried streaks clinging to his ear. His lips were parted slightly beneath the oxygen mask, his lashes damp against his cheeks.

In the PICU room, monitors beeped quietly, soft and steady. A nurse worked quickly and calmly—hooking up IV lines, starting the EEG leads, dimming the lights. Another brought in the seizure meds. Jack stood in the corner, arms limp at his sides now, adrenaline draining from his face.

The door closed.

And finally, the room went quiet.

You sat beside the bed and took Mason’s hand fully in yours. It was so small inside your palm. Always had been. But now it felt weightless, like something you couldn’t quite hold onto.

“I can’t do this,” you whispered.

Jack didn’t respond at first. Then he moved behind you, his hand finding your shoulder. His voice broke when he spoke.

“Yes, you can. Because he needs us to. He’s going to wake up. He is.”

You leaned into him, tears slipping silently down your face as you looked at your son—your entire world—wrapped in wires and machines, and not moving.

You didn’t sleep that night.

Neither did Jack.

Still you took turns sitting by the bed, staring at the monitors, willing the numbers to stay steady. Hoping for a flicker of movement. A twitch of fingers. A shift in those long eyelashes. And in the quiet, with Jack’s hand around yours and Mason’s resting between you both, you whispered promises neither of you had made out loud before:

We’re never working the same shift again. Not if it means risking this.

The room truly felt like a time capsule. Hours passed in a haze of fluorescent lights, rhythmic monitor beeps, the gentle hiss of oxygen.

It was day two.

Mason hadn’t opened his eyes.

His vitals were holding steady. The cerebral edema hadn’t worsened. The neurosurgeons were cautiously optimistic, calling his fracture “clean,” and the contusion “contained.” The EEG hadn’t shown any additional seizure activity overnight, and the Keppra seemed to be doing its job. His pupils were still sluggish, but reactive. He was breathing on his own. Everything was textbook.

But textbooks didn’t prepare you for how still a six-year-old could look when the light left his eyes.

You were in the chair again, your fingers curled gently around his. You’d barely moved all day, afraid that if you stepped away, you’d miss something. Jack was sitting on the couch now, head leaned back against the wall, one foot bouncing anxiously. He hadn’t left the both of you beyond grabbing the spare sets of clothes out of his truck. 

The lights were dimmed, the machines soft and steady. You rubbed slow, soothing circles across the back of Mason’s hand, whispering to him like he was just dozing after a long day.

“Hey, lovebug,” you said quietly. “It’s okay to wake up now. Daddy’s here. I’m here. You’re safe.”

You leaned in close, brushing your lips against his knuckles, careful of any swelling.

“I know your head hurts. I know you’re tired. But you’re okay. You’re safe.”

Jack stirred at the sound of your voice, rubbing a hand down his face. He moved beside you, placing a palm lightly on Mason’s ankle.

As if he heard you both.

Mason’s fingers twitched.

It was so small you almost thought you imagined it.

You straightened slowly, eyes locked on his face.

Then his eyelids fluttered.

“Mason?” you whispered.

Jack stood up so fast the chair he had moved too scraped against the floor.

Mason’s eyes opened—barely. Just enough to see the soft hazel underneath. He blinked slowly, unfocused, then squeezed them shut against the light.

“Hey, baby,” you said gently, leaning close again. “It’s okay. You’re safe.”

He let out a faint, croaky sound—half breath, half mumble.

Jack stepped forward, his voice catching. “Hey, bud. It’s Daddy. Can you squeeze Mommy’s hand for me?”

Another pause.

Then—your fingers were squeezed, weak but there. Real.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you pressed his hand to your face. “There you are,” you whispered.

Mason blinked again, this time managing to squint up at the two blurry figures hovering over him. His lips parted. His voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

“My head hurts.”

You choked on a sob, letting out a shaky laugh. “I bet it does, sweetheart. But you’re okay. You’re okay.”

Jack cleared his throat, crouching beside the bed now, brushing hair gently away from Mason’s forehead. “We’re gonna take really good care of you, buddy. You scared us.”

Mason looked at you, then at Jack, and then murmured, “Did I miss the ice cream?”

You both laughed—quiet, breathless, full of relief.

“No,” you said. “Aunty owes you extra scoops now.”

He gave a tiny smile, then drifted again, eyelids heavy, but this time… it was just sleep.

Not unconsciousness. Not seizure. Not silence.

Just rest.

The next day brought sunlight through the tall PICU windows, soft and golden, catching in the folds of Mason’s blanket. He was propped up slightly now, still sleepy and sore, but undeniably there. Awake. Talking a little more. Asking small, simple things like “What day is it?” and “Can I have ice cream now?”

You and Jack stayed close, moving slower now, the urgency replaced by the kind of stillness that only comes after a storm.

There were still scans ahead. Neuro checks. Days of rest already planned in advance. But for now, Mason’s vitals were steady. His headache was easing. The swelling in his brain was beginning to go down. And his eyes—when they looked at you—were full of that quiet spark again.

That afternoon, you sat beside him in the recliner, Mason tucked against your chest in hospital-issue pajamas, his IV carefully taped and his fingers curled around your shirt. Jack was across the room, dozing lightly on the couch, arms crossed, head tilted, exhaustion finally catching up with him.

Mason’s voice came soft against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

You tilted your head down. “Yeah, baby?”

“Will you stay here when I sleep?”

You smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“Of course, baby. Daddy and I both will.”

And with his breathing deepening, his small body warm against yours, and Jack snoring softly in the corner, you finally let yourself close your eyes.

Not out of fear.

Because—for the first time in days—you knew everything was going to be okay.

mercvry-glow 2025

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

TAKE CARE

synopsis: sylus comes home after a run in, wounded. and you decide to take care of him, in more ways than one.

warnings: dirty talk, unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgar language, mentions of wounds and blood, mentions of bruises, praise kink, spanking, m oral receiving .

wc- 2.4k

[minors don’t interact… by choosing to interact with this content, you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate and nsfw despite warnings!]

9:26 pm

Sylus is late.

You sit on the couch, curled up under a blanket watching a movie. A random romance movie filling the empty house with sound as you wait for Sylus to get back home from work.

You begin to worry, he called you around an hour ago, saying he’d be on his way.

Because of course, he had to hear your sweet voice. But he’s late.

You fight the urge to call him or spam his phone, even though you know he doesn’t care, he prefers it.

You sigh as you repeatedly check the time 9:40 comes around and you decide to send him a text.

You: Baby, are you alright? I didn’t wanna bother you, but I’m getting worried.

You set down your phone and lock it before returning your attention to the movie. As you see the couple on screen all you can think of is Sylus.

Your boyfriend of nearly a year and a half, the man you are in love with wholeheartedly. Reaching down you begin to twiddle with the collarbone necklace he bought you. Your phone dings and you nearly jump in your seat.

It’s Sylus.

Sy: I got caught up kitten. Late approach, I’m in the car right now. I’m sorry, give me 5 minutes or so, see you then.

You sigh of relief but can’t stop to wonder what caught him so late.

Not even three minutes pass and you hear a car door shut, you jump out of your seat this time. Haven’t seen Sylus since 2 pm, you rush to the door and unlock it. You quickly open it and run out of the mansion to him.

Sylus locks eyes with you as he heads towards the house, he braces himself for a jumping hug and chuckles.

You jump into his arms, wrapping your own around his neck as his wraps around your back. The height difference allows your legs to dangle.

He holds you until you decide to let go, knowing you love to be clingy, and he doesn’t mind at all. “Someone missed me?” He mutters against your hair. You drop yourself to the ground and finally get a look at him.

His clothes were bloody and he had a couple of bruises scattered on his face and arms. You feel your heart stop as you look at him.

“Sy, what happened…” You whisper as you reach up and touch his face.

He winces as you near a bruise. “A run in. I’m alright sweetie, come on.” He chuckles, brushing it off and leads you inside, locking the car with a remote as we head in.

He opens the door and closes it behind us as we step into the hallway.

“Sy… Let me look. I can help, you know I enjoy taking care of you.” You look up at him as he takes off his combat boots.

“Baby, I’m okay. But if you want to, I won’t deny you.” Sylus chuckles before taking your hand and leading you further into the mansion.

“Bathroom, the first aid kit is in there.” You squeeze his hand and he nods, leading you there.

Once you’re both in the bathroom, he switches on the light and sits on the closed toilet lid, to allow you to get to him with ease. His crimson eyes look up at you as he finally gets a good look at you.

“Pretty girl.” He says with no shame and you blush as you playfully roll your eyes. You turn and open a cabinet, grabbing the first aid kit.

Moving back over to Sylus, you stand in front of him. “Let’s get your shirt off, the blood is gonna only stain more the longer it sits.” You reach to take off his shirt and he nods but takes it off for you. He tosses the shirt somewhere and lets you continue.

“Sweetie, I’m not worried about the shirt. You and I both know I have enough money to buy a million of them.” He laughs, his deep voice echoing in the bathroom.

“Yeah you’re right, but still.” You chuckle and look down at his broad chest. Dried blood scatters across his skin and it tugs at your heart, you know his wounds heal themselves but it still upsets you.

Sylus watches your eyes waver and he takes your hand. “Sweetie, you know no one can hurt me right? No one can kill me either, only you can grant me death. Don’t worry okay?” He rubs your hand in his, and you nod.

“Sylus, I just… I don’t like to see you like this.” You sigh and you pull away for a quick second to grab a washcloth, wetting it.

“I know you don’t, and it makes me happy that you care so much about me. But they’re healed for the most part, other than the bruises. ” Sylus watches as you bring the wet cloth to his bloody chest, wiping gently.

“Bruises take longer don’t they?” You whisper as you focus and he hums in agreement.

“The one on your face Sy… They punched your pretty face.” You look at him and sigh as your eyes land on the huge bruise on his jaw.

He chuckles at your silent compliment. “You can always make me pretty again until it heals.” His eyes scan over your features, appreciating the beauty of you.

“Would you let me do your makeup?” Smiling at him, you stop wiping his chest as it’s wiped clean.

“Wouldn’t mind, if it made you happy I wouldn’t object it. You know I’d do anything you asked me to.” Sylus smiles and glances as you grab a hot pad from the first aid kit.

“So if I asked you to jump off a cliff, would you do it?” You joke as you press ever so gently to his jawbone bruise and he closes his eyes briefly.

“Mhm. Anything.” Sylus mutters as he takes in the heat. His words make you smile ear to ear, although you’d never ask him to jump off a cliff.

“Baby?” He speaks up all of a sudden and it catches you off guard.

“Yeah, Sy?” You look down at him with curiosity, his arm patting your hip.

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, your legs are gonna start hurting. And this time it won’t be from me.” He chuckles, and you nod realizing that your legs truly do hurt from standing so long.

You sit on Sylus’ lap and he leans back to give you room to continue. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

“Does the bruise feel any better?” You look at Sylus, running a hand through his silver hair. He leans into your touch and nods.

“Got a couple on my arms but you don’t have to worry about those. The only one that hurts is the jaw.” He smiles softly before squeezing your hip.

You nod and giggle, “I know I just sat down, but my work is done.” He gives you a disapproving look and shakes his head.

“No, you aren’t.” Sylus smirks, and you lift a brow.

“What exactly did I miss?” You scan over his face and torso once more, checking for any marks you might’ve missed. You hear his low chuckle and your attention is brought back to his face.

“My lips sweetie.” He whispers before gripping your face in his palm and kissing you. He holds you ever so gently in his grasp and you wrap your arms around his neck like you did earlier.

His lips were tender and soft against yours, tasting mint on him.

Sylus slowly pulls away before giving you a small peck. Whispering he squeezes you again, “All mine…”

“All yours.” You repeat and he smiles, his gaze dropping to your lips once again. He quickly stands, wrapping your legs around his waist he leaves the bathroom with you.

“Sylus!” You giggle. “Where are you taking me?” You continue to laugh as he props you up higher.

He smiles at the tone of your voice. “To bed kitten.” Sylus kicks open the bedroom door and carries you over to the bed before laying you down and climbing on top of you.

“You know… There’s one more bruise.” He smirks as he hovers over you. Your eyes widen but then you catch on.

“Where exactly?” You chuckle and he holds his cocky expression before leaning down and grinding against you.

“Mmm, I think it might be there… Wanna check for me, sweetie?” Sylus’ hardness is evident as he grinds one more time. Honestly, you were shocked he got hard so fast. Yet again you were on his lap, and just looking at you gives him a semi.

“I’ll check…” You nod and he bites his bottom lip between his teeth before moving off of you. You allow him to situate himself to lie down on the bed, his upper body propped up by pillows.

You look down at the tent in his pants, gently nudging it with your hand, earning a hiss. “Where’d this giant bruise come from Sy?” You play along with his act and he smirks.

“Mmm, think from some pretty girl.” He looks at you his red eyes darker than ever.

“She must’ve been beautiful.” You smile and unzip the two zippers on his pants, his chest heaving with anticipation as you do so.

“Yeah, she is… Such a beauty.” Sylus whispers as you nudge on his pants, he lifts his hips enough for you to slide them off. But to his surprise, you yank off his boxers at the same time.

His cock springs out and slaps against his stomach, thick and dripping for you. He groans as the cool air hits his head and you giggle.

You run your fingers along his shaft and pretend to inspect. His brows furrowed as he bites back groans from the lightest touch. The most dangerous and wanted man in Philos falling apart from the slightest touch.

“i swear there’s pain from something…” Sylus tangles his hands in your locks and smirks.

“Maybe I need to check another way?” You look up at him before bringing his member to your mouth, immediately taking it in.

“Fuck baby…” He groans, low in his throat as you take him in, tongue rubbing against his tip, before you pull it out. You give kitten licks to the swollen red tip, and he hisses.

“Living up to your nickname huh? Shit…” He finally lets out a moan. His moans are the most beautiful thing you’ve heard and it never fails to make you pool between your thighs. You give the head a few more kisses before taking it back in.

He moans louder when you wrap your hand around the base that you can’t fit, stroking in time with your bobs. “Just like that… So good.”

You move your hand off his shaft and to his balls, gently fondling them. “Y/n baby… if you keep doing that I’ll cum.” He warns you and you continue.

He groans and feels himself get closer to the edge as you massage and suck him. “Baby…” He moans one last time before he grunts and finishes in your mouth.

His taste is something you so desperately craved, ropes shooting down your throat you moan around his length. He squeezes his eyes shut as that causes him to shoot out more cum.

Pulling you to him he kisses you, groaning at the taste of himself on your lips. His tongue slides into your mouth, he brings you to straddle him. He lowers you and you gasp, feeling his cock against your bare pussy. When the fuck did he take my clothes off? You think to yourself.

And then you realize, his evol. “Sylus!” You scold him.

“Had to baby… Couldn’t wait.” He laughs and lowers you down into him, his girth stretching you to maximum capacity. Thank god you were wet enough.

He groans and squeezes your hips, leaving bruises of their own as he attempts to bottom out. “So tight…” Sylus growls and thrusts up into you gathering more wetness.

You loosen around him and moan as he slowly thrusts up into you, your nails digging into his shoulders.

“Meet me halfway baby…” He whispers and you begin to bounce, meeting his thrusts. The sounds of your thighs slapping against his fill the room.

“Sylus…” You moan his name and he groans.

“You’re all mine baby…” He growls.

You bounce faster and he smirks as he finally sees all his length make its way into you, head bruising your cervix. He bulges into your stomach and he places a hand on it letting out a needy moan.

“I fucking love when you ride me kitten… Always do so good. Look so pretty” He watches you intensely, every face you make engraved in his brain.

“Sy… My legs hurt.” You whisper and he nods.

“That’s alright, here let me do it for you. Let me take care of you.” Sylus takes over immediately and thrusts up into you, lifting himself off the bed to hit deeper. “Just relax for me, let me make you feel good.”

You feel yourself tightening and you moan louder, feeling your walls clench him he moans. “Gonna cum for me pretty? Let go for me.” He kisses you sloppily but passionately, intertwining your hands as he resonates with you. Your hands glow and intense pleasure courses through the both of you.

Your back arches and you come undone on him, essence sliding down his shaft as he slows his movements, making love to you as you finish.

Sylus moans and fills you with his cum not even a minute later, painting your womb while he lets out a string of pretty moans. “Fucking hell… I love you so much.”

His thrusts finally stop and he stays situated inside of you while he softens, you both pant heavily and he rubs your back before lifting you. His cock slips out with a wet pop and he returns you to his chest.

You whine at the lack of fullness and he smirks. “Miss me that bad already?” Sylus leans down and presses a kiss to your lips.

“Always.” You mumble and he chuckles.

“Always take such good care of me, sweetie. My pretty girl.” He pushes hair behind your ear that had fallen onto your face.

“Likewise…” You giggle and he playfully smacks your ass.

“Now let’s go shower, yeah?” He smirks as he looks at you and you roll your eyes.

“No funny business.” You laugh and get off his lap to stand beside the bed, legs wobbling.

“Just gonna take care of you. Aftercare~” He gives you a mischievous grin and leads you into the bathroom.

You mentally curse yourself as you prepare yourself for more “care.”

[bunny-jpeg]

breaking down the barriers (let's cause a conflict of interest)

max verstappen - team principal au

tags: smut/pwp, driver!reader, age gap (20s/40s), team principal!max, power dynamics, missionary, praise, hero worship, max knows what he wants and he will get it

he doesn't like your little boyfriend, the guy who was proud arm candy for you. he was a dazzling italian boy who you met during the start of your career - to max, he was just a failed f1 driver living out the life through you - you deserved better. deserved a better man, a lover who could provide, take care of you.

a man like max verstappen.

but, he remembered being young. being stupid, being with people he probably shouldn't have been with. but max knew what your best interests were. and you needed someone responsible. and who was more responsible than a man with five world champions and a team under his belt.

"she doesn't want to talk to you anymore, mate. i suggest you take a hike, for her best interest... and yours." he said bluntly with that smile that dazzled the press for decades.

you were a sniffling mess, nearing tears as you sat on the couch. it was the weekend of the british grand prix, and your boyfriend just ghosted you - but have no fear, max was here.

"i don't get it, sir. what did i do wrong?" you wiped your eyes, "i thought i was a good girlfriend, he said it was the best for our careers." you shuddered a sigh.

max came to the couch and handed you a few tissues, "that is part of the game." he reached out and cupped your cheek, "you sacrifice mind, body and soul for a win."

"is that why you never got married, sir?" you said, then pouted, "am i never going to get married?" it sounded so innocent come from you, max found it oh-so endearing. it was cute. he sat down and took the tissues from you to wipe your eyes.

"well, how about you give a world championship and i'll marry you." he said with slight humour in his tone. but in total fairness, he wasn't exactly joking. he didn't want to scare you.

you chuckled lightly, "i think it would be a conflict of interest, sir. i don't want you in trouble with the fia." you had a small smile, "plus, i'd make a bad wife."

max put the tissues on the table and leaned back against the couch. his arm stretched over the back of it, close to you. he replied, "no such thing. you'd be lovely. i think you need someone who understands our world better. it's not easy, i know. lost too many lovely women because the sport came first.'

you nodded, eager for advice from you boss. you sighed, "i wish more men were like you, mister verstappen." even after all this time on his team, knowing max in general, he was still mister verstappen.

max reached for you once more and rubbed his cheek with his thumb, you never realized how big his hands were. how strong they were, how strong all of him was. you swallowed, max's keen eye noticed.

you daringly asked, "can you stay with me tonight, sir? i don't want to be alone." your friends weren't here, neither was your family. all alone except for your team, except for max.

"of course." he leaned in a little bit more, he noticed how you relaxed against his touch. he eyed your lips for a moment and smiled softly before he went in a kissed you on the lips.

he half expected a firm punch to the head. but, instead you wrapped your arms around him and he got his arms around your middle. the kiss, which sound of lasted moments, lingered. it grew hungry, like you two were on the same page. your short nails dragged across his shoulders while he got you into his lap.

when eventually you both pulled away, you looked into his blue eyes. you were seated in his lap, your hands held tightly onto the verstappen.com branded t-shirt. you swallowed, "this isn't right... we could get in trouble."

"let the fia fine me, take all my money. it won't stop me from fucking you tonight." he said before he went in for another searing kiss. you moaned against his lips and he held onto your behind to keep you steady.

a driver and her older team principal, that would make headlines for weeks. but it was no secret that max liked you better, you were the first choice that he ever had for a driver. yes, he found you attractive in the team gear. yes, he fantasized about you at any given chance. yes, he wished he could boot your teammate out of the second seat and make you the sole star of the team.

let the press gossip, let the online fourms be littered with accusations, let the fia slap fine after fine on the team and the man himself. max didn't care because as he pushed you down on the bed and took his shirt off - there was nothing that could stop max verstappen from gorging himself on your sweet, sweet cunt. the pussy that had plagued him for months at this point.

you looked at him as he worked his belt. your t-shirt was off and you were left in a high impact sports bra. your eyes looked beautiful, gleamed with a certain lust for him that he knew that he couldn't deprive you of.

"you'll be good for me?" he asked softly, "i don't know why i'm asking. of course you will, my future champion." he reached for you and ran his thumb across your bottom lip.

you nodded, "yes, sir."

he pulled his hand away and got the belt out of the loops of his jeans, "look at you - so well behaved." he watched you get out of your clothes before he finished getting out of his.

"i try to be, sir. you always know best, and i trust you." you swallowed. this was not the brightest idea, to let your boss have sex with you. careers ended over lesser crimes. but you were both adults, and you couldn't deny. there was an allure to max verstappen.

you had his posters on your walls as a teenager. you had a hoodie with his 2023 car on it, and wore it everywhere. you wanted to be him, and he saw something in you that no other team wanted to take a chance on. he was your idol turned boss, now he was your boss turned lover as he got into bed with you.

his soft hands grazed your skin, and his lips touched where his hands didn't. he felt you up tenderly, like you were fragile. and it only made something curl in your core more. it excited you - you were no virgin, but to have sex with a man who carried so much power left you more excited than you ever were with another lover.

"look at you." he said as he grabbed your ass a little rougher, "they say the most beautiful thing on the track is the cars, but they haven't see you. hiding behind the baggy driver's suit and that big helmet. my logo across your skin." he kissed your jaw, "a last name that suits you."

you swallowed, "we can't get married, sir."

"i know, conflict of interest. but a man my age can dream, no? never was married, never had a wife." he touched you once more, "never had someone understand my world the way you do, my little champion."

you took him by the face, his facial hair felt nice against your fingers. you pulled him in for another heated kiss and you rubbed your thighs together at the feeling. the anticipation for what was to come.

he put you onto your back and when he pulled away, he admired your expression for a moment, "your kisses are addictive. it'll be hard not to ask for one with all the cameras on us." before he went in for another one, he added, "but i'll find ways."

you two made out some more while max got between your legs. your hips lifted and your legs wrapped around his waist. he admired you once more before he pulled back and hiked your legs a little higher around his waist. he licked his lips, your eyes gleamed in the yellowing light of the bedroom - there was a loveliness to your gaze that pulled max in.

he was a smart man from brandishing his teeth at the pathetic boy you called a boyfriend, scare off the weak so he could have his prize. he got himself into you, slowly inched.

his mouth hung open for a moment, the wetness and the squeeze on his cock excited him. of course you'd feel this good. he was smart to sign you for a several year contract and he was smart to sink his achy cock into your pussy.

"max!"

that was what he liked to hear, his name on your lips. stripped of formality, casual like lovers like he wouldn't be in your ear all weekend to ensure a proper victory.

"say my name."

"max, fuck, max!" you chirped as he started to move against you. he shuddered with sexual desire for you - this was his prized driver, on her back, legs open just for him.

he leaned forward and clutched onto the hotel covers under you, he moved against you with heavy thrusts. a deep, burning desire for you coursed through his blood. this was what he needed, while he didn't expect to fall in love with you when he signed you - but that had all changed.

you had grown from a nervous rookie to a driver worthy of taking it all home. a driver worthy for max's treatment both on and off the track.

he moved his hips against you, he worked himself against you with heavy thrusts. the bed shifted partially under the force of his movements, the headboard tapped against the wall. he didn't need to wake up the entire floor, but maybe next time he'll fuck you in his room - a room that was often a bit further away from the rest of the team.

"you have no idea how much i worshiped you, max." you said between heavy pants, "i adored you. i wanted to be you." you swallowed as you felt his burning gaze on you. your cheeks were flushed and your body felt sweaty.

"i was your idol."

you looked at him and replied, "i wanted to be the best and get your praise." it felt weird to acknowledge that, the part of you that yearned for the praise of the great max verstappen, a man who made driving look easy. who took a bucket of a car and sailed it to victory - the champion of all champions.

he pushed back your hair from your face and kissed your forehead while he continued to fuck you, his thrusts gained a bit more speed as the bed rocked further, "what? that i think you're the only driver that could break my records? that i put you in a great car so you could drive laps around the competition? that i want you to be the best because deep down i know that you are."

you moaned a little louder and you two then shared another heated kiss. he held onto the covers for leverage as he continued to thrust up into you. your thighs clenched around his waist. you held your hips raised to give him the best angle to fuck you, the angle that made your vision blue from the intensity of the pleasure.

the two of you continued to fuck one another, the pleasure built between you two with heavy thrusts from one another. the kisses grew messier, the moans grew in noise, and the desperate need for one another only mounted. it was like the months of you on the team were mounted to a moment of pure climax - max saw you worthy as a driver, as a winner.

and you yearned to make him proud.

the pleasure continued, you reached for your team principal and clutched onto his shoulders tightly. he held onto your hips and moved himself further against you.

"you make me proud every race, that's why i've yearned for you so badly." he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat under his lips. you were both sweaty, heated from the sex.

you clutched onto him tighter, you tensed up. pleasure crossed your expression as he fucked you. the feeling of his cock, the tightness of his grip, his words of praise. it all fueled your mind as the pleasure came to a head.

"fuck," you whimpered, "max."

the way you looked at him in your blissed out state, how he admired you with each heavy stroke of his cock. you looked like a dream, this was heaven to him. he went in for another searing kiss before he thrusted a few more times. he then finished inside of you with a tension in his body.

he broke the kiss and clutched onto your hips tightly as as he finished. those blue eyes hazy with pleasure, but still drank in the sight of you.

you were both sweaty, hot with little air circulation in the bedroom. it smelled like sex. max pulled out and kissed you on your forehead before he went to open a window to let some of the cooler air get through the room.

when he was back in bed with you, he got you under the covers. he threw them over you to protect your nudity in case your teammate came crashing in or something akin to that.

he peppered your face and neck with kisses. he held you tightly in his strong arms. he was still a man to admire.

"you're better than my ex." you said softly.

he smiled with his lips close to your temple. he gave you a firm squeeze, "and i'll keep being better, and you'll keep being my champion."

-

years later and three championships later. you were all smiles at the final press conference of the season. seated in front of the reporters, the final win you needed to secure your fourth world champion title.

"so what are the future plans?" one reporter asked.

there was a tick of silence, you could feel the gaze of your lover from off stage. you sat up a little straighter and replied, "well, this will actually be my last season." you smiled like you were the sun itself, "my contract with verstappen racing is coming to an end... and we're not going to renew it because me and max verstappen are getting married." then held up your hand and showed off the ring he proposed with over the summer break.

"racing has been fun, but this is the next chapter for both of us!" <3

[arcanefox207]

Don’t Make Me Ask Again

DBF!Joel Miller x Female Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 2.2k WC | AO3

Summary: Teasing your dad’s friend has its consequences. (A filthy PWP for your merriment)

Warnings: DBF!Joel, Undisclosed age gap (but its pretty big, reader is college aged and Joel is late 40’s/50’s), Dubcon, Finger Fucking, Edging, Somnophelia, Cum Play, Masturbation, Depravity. Joel is an asshole.

Notes: Huge thank you to @whocaresstillthelouvre for being an outstanding beta editor. Also huge thanks to @magpiepills for reading and giving me courage.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You knew you were playing with fire, but it didn’t stop you. In fact, the taboo of it all gave you a high that you couldn’t stop chasing.

Once you caught him looking at you it was game on.  

You were home for summer break and found out that your dad’s new buddy also happened to be irresistibly handsome. He was always over at your dad’s house. Having a beer (or six) together after work or sitting by the pool on a hot evening, watching whatever game was on. He lived just down the street, so it was nothing for him to come over. He would even spend the night often enough, falling asleep on the couch after too many drinks or a game that went too late. 

He was a total asshole too, just like your dad. You liked the challenge. It gave you something to do while being stuck there all summer.

Night after night you shot those flirty eyes at him. Teasing. Dangling yourself in front of him when your dad wasn’t looking. Wearing the sluttiest of outfits and brushing up against him whenever he was in the way of where you suddenly needed to be. Sure, he was polite being a guest in your house, but he firmly removed himself whenever you got too close. 

You saw how he’d look away with a flushed face. How his jeans would tighten whenever you bent over in front of him to tie up your hair. How he’d stir in his seat when you were teasing him with your suggestive conversations on the phone that you knew he was within earshot of.       

You wondered how far you could push him before he couldn’t help but put his hands on you. 

You never thought he would actually do it. It was all harmless fun to pass the time.

Sooner or later you were going to find out.

Tonight was it. 

–

He hovered over you, caging you against the bed. He was still fully clothed except for his unzipped jeans with his cock straining against his boxers. 

“Gonna teach you a lesson,” he grunts as he pulls out his thick cock and it slaps against your stomach. It was already swollen as he stroked it and sat back, straddling your waist. 

He was massive and you eyed him with an insatiable want. His gorgeous, girthy shaft complimented his firm and broad body. The greys lining his patchy beard matched the messy thatch that trailed up to his lower belly and disappeared under his shirt. He was easily several decades older than you. Time had been kind to him, rewarding him with a body that just got better with age.

And you did want him. You wanted him badly. You thought about him night after night while you got yourself off. Now that he was on top of you in your own bed you had to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

But he really was such an asshole. Holding his cock in his hand in front of you to tease and watching your eyes widen with want.

“Nah, you ain’t getting this. Not for how you been actin’,” he scolds as he shifts his weight off of you and kneels between your legs.

You're lying in front of him, helpless and fully at his mercy, wearing just an oversized t-shirt and some modest cotton panties that are lacey around the waistband. Eyes still hazy from being abruptly woken up in the middle of the night. You weren’t exactly expecting company. 

Your bedroom wasn’t very dark with the streetlight peering in your window and the full moon bathing you both in its radiance. 

He uses his knees to press your legs open and make room for himself as he drags his free hand down your thigh, pushing you open wider. You don’t know what his exact intentions are but you know he is the one in control.

“Joel…” you whine, and he doesn’t like that. 

“What are you gonna do, call for daddy?” he taunts. “Let him see what a slut his little girl is?” He stops and looks between your legs, dragging his finger along the seam of your panties. “And how you’re dripping for my cock?” 

No, you weren’t going to do anything but take what he gave you and he knew it. 

He sits up between your parted legs and looks down at your pathetic, needy body begging to be filled up. 

He pumps his cock. “Show me,” he demands, mid-stroke. The way his wrist flicks as he tugs on his shaft is mesmerizing.

He sits back on his legs while you shimmy out of your panties and toss your shirt onto the floor. As you lay back on the mattress his eyes scan over you, taking in your perfect breasts and the softness of your youthful skin. 

He lets go of his cock and leans down, putting his face right in your cunt. You can feel his hot breath hovering just above your clit but he is careful not to touch. You writhe towards him, begging for some friction. He gives you nothing.

He smiles a wicked smile as he picks his head up to look at you. His eyes lock with yours and you can see the darkness spreading over him. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted and he was taking great pleasure in this payback. 

He crawls back over you slowly, letting his cock press against you as he hovers face to face again. His broadness caging you in and sending shivers through your body at the sight of his dominance. 

He uses his hand to engulf your own and guides it to your clit, pressing your fingertips into it and rubbing. He never loses eye contact with you, studying the way your mouth hangs open as he forces your hand.

A moan escapes your lips at his perverse control over you. His throbbing heat searing into you, daring you to grind against him. And oh how badly you want to take the bait.  

“Show me how you touch yourself, little slut.” His voice is intimidatingly low and gravelly. He lets up the pressure on your hand once he is convinced you will play along.   

He maneuvers back down the bed to get a better view as you circle your clit. He grabs your legs roughly and pulls you up close to him so they are wide open and hanging over his thighs. His swollen cock standing at full attention just inches from you. Just out of reach. A tease. A prize if you play his game. You slow down your movements, as you start to feel the heat inside you surging. 

“Sweetheart, you can do better than that,” he taunts as he pulls off his shirt, generously giving you more of his body to drink in. The ridges in his lean muscles catching the moonlight. He looks sinfully delicious and you ache for his body against yours. You want to make him happy, give him a reason to reward you with his touch. 

He leans forward and puts his weight is on his palms just by your hips, his cock pushing against your wet hole. His broadness looming over you. Leering at your neediness. The sight of him. The feel of his spongy head knocking at your entrance. It was too much. 

It was embarrassing. Degrading. It turned you on. 

“Don’t make me ask again,” he threatens, grabbing your hand again. “Wanna see you stuff that pretty hole.” He pushes two of your fingers together and brings them to his mouth, sucking them slowly and getting them good and wet. It sends shivers through your body imagining that mouth on your pussy instead.

He’s rougher this time, guiding your hand back down to your entrance. You can sense his patience running out. He pushes your pliant fingers inside without warning, fucking you in and out. Slow and hard. Until he lets go and watches you take over.

You can see from the glint in his eyes how much it is turning him on, watching you finger yourself in front of him was intoxicating to him. Your innocent moans singing into his ears. 

“Those pitiful little hands can’t get shit done” he grunts, dragging his hand up your thigh and curling around your stomach. The rough pads of his fingertips leave you trembling in their wake as he drags them lower.

He pulls your hand from its warm haven and eyes your swollen clit, begging for touch. He presses his thumb into it and circles it, making you moan. Finally giving you something. 

“Please…” you beg. Eager to feel him on you.

“Needy thing.” He stops circling and brings his hand lower, dragging his middle finger along your entrance and then spreading his fingers through your slick. 

“Go ahead.” He positions your hand around his and presses his middle and index fingers together like a gun. “You can use mine,” he commands. 

You realize he still isn’t going to fuck you. No, he wants you to move his hand and use his body to get off. He knew you would do it too because he was making you so desperate for any way to release. 

You wrap your hand around his wrist and guide him towards your entrance. Your other hand grips just above his watch in a desperate attempt to hold on. 

You are already so close, your body sucks him inside. The thickness feels so good as your pussy stretches to take him. You wince as you take in more and more of him, underestimating how thick he is. Everything about Joel Miller is so damn thick.  

“Goddamn you’re tight” he smiles crookedly as he feels your walls clamping onto him as you thrust him in and out.

You can sense a shift in the room that's palpable. He was having his fun with you, but he was getting greedy. Getting off on watching you struggle to take his fingers. He wanted to stuff you with his cock and show you what a real tight fit is, but he has no intention of giving you that satisfaction. You had to learn a lesson about teasing. 

He couldn’t resist curling his fingers inside you, prodding at your fleshy walls. Your hand was still around his but he was the one moving it now. His free hand rapidly stroking his length, thumbing over the swollen tip and God you need him so badly.

“Joel, please!” you beg. 

You are on the edge, ready to come harder than you ever have before. 

“Bet you can’t handle three,” he challenges, giving you no time to respond. He’s already decided it's happening whether you want it to or not. You do want it. You want anything he will give you. 

He groans as he adds a third finger and you flinch at the stretch. You hold  onto his forearm for dear life as his fingers fuck into you hard while he fucks into his own fist.

Now he can’t help himself from taking over entirely. He thrusts into you, deeper and deeper. Feeling your walls convulse around him as you reach your limit.

Finally he gives you permission.

“Come. Come now,” he snarls at you. Your orgasm has you gasping for breath as he relentlessly fingers you through it, chasing his own release. You soak his fingers and moan his name, your walls fluttering around him. Your nails claw into his skin, as you’re fucked out and overwhelmed by sweet ecstasy.

He comes hard and loud and you are certain your dad is passed out drunk since he hasn’t broken down your door yet. 

Joel’s hot spend hits your stomach and pussy. There is so much of it, he paints you in his release. Claiming you. 

A primal need surges inside him, desperate to leave you with his seed. You see the shift in his eyes and he can’t stop himself. His cum drips and pools around his knuckles as he fucks it inside you in a frenzy, needing his  spend as deep as his fingers will let him. 

“Joel, fuck,” you protest at the initial shock of what he is doing. He doesn’t even ask if you are protected, he just uses his brute force to thrust his cum inside. 

It’s obscene.

And it feels so good. You are as depraved as he is. You welcome him inside your body wanting more, swallowing up whatever he gives you as you come down from your high. 

His cum leaks out of you as he withdraws his fingers, but he stuffs as much back into your gaping hole as he can until his primal drive wanes. 

He gets off the bed and puts his shirt back on, leaving you laying there in his mess. 

“Next time you pull that shit again, I’ll make you sorry.” he threatens as he zips up his pants.

You smile in the dark and close your legs tightly, feeling the ache from his rough touch.

“I’m counting on it.”

Dividers @anitalenia / Banner by me

WIP Taglist: @lotusbxtch @la-vie-est-une-fleur29 @megangovier @vickie5446 @baronessvonglitter @covetyou @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @getitoutofmymindwrites @giowritess @almostfoxglove

Tagging fellow Joel girlies and mutuals I hope will enjoy this or know a friend who might 🙏🏻 Please anytime if you don’t want to be tagged just let me know. Thank you and love you all 🩷

@pedgito @slimybeth69 @syd-djarin @wheresarizona @frannyzooey @jolapeno @joelsdagger @joelmillerisapunk @for-a-longlongtime @tightjeansjavi @bonezone44 @wethairjoel @fuckyeahdindjarin @beefrobeefcal @aurorawritestoescape @beardedjoel @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity @galaxyedging @perotovar @pearlessance @pedropeach @cavillscurls @sawymredfox @moonlitbirdie @mothandpidgeon @604to647 @yourcoolauntie @jessthebaker @ozarkthedog @iamasaddie @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @itwasntimethatdidit40 @sin-djarin @schnarfer

[myjjongie]

✶ PLAYING GIRLFRIEND ── l. heeseung

IN WHICH: your best friend heeseung, who also so happens to be a player. needs a girlfriend to ward off all the girls on valentine’s day. who better to help him? you of course!

PAIRING: bsf player!heeseung x bsf fem!reader GENRE/WARNINGS: lowercase intended !!, one shot, skinship, fake dating, best friends, pining, fluff, slight friends to lovers, slow burn (???) WORD COUNT: 1.4k ₊⊹♡ EVIE'S NOTE: another day another 10 am post cause i can't handle a decent sleep schedule... late vday one shot i never intended to make LOL. like the way i saw a love and deepspace fanart for caleb with this scenario and got inspired. my brain refuses to think on its own, but god forbid i see something good... my brain goes "yeah write that." man... but alas here's another heeseung one shot for the masterlist :3

it was valentine’s day. a holiday you didn’t dislike nor particularly cared for. it was just another day in february to you.

but for you, one person usually made the day eventful. the person in question? your best friend heeseung, well precisely your childhood best friend. he had always been known throughout your school years as a notorious player. which meant heeseung’s locker always happened to be filled to the brim with chocolates every valentine’s day.

by the end of the holiday there was no need to sulk over receiving nothing. after all, you’d always end up eating heeseung’s fair share of chocolates. even if he was a player of sorts. he showed true appreciation for what the girls gave him. due to that, a pile of chocolates would form on his desk at home every year.

even after becoming college students, the chocolate giving didn’t end. around this time last year, heeseung received almost 40 chocolates. along with 20 confessions... once heeseung and you arrived back at his place that year. the annoyance was evident on his face. it started to be too much for him. he realized denying every girl that confessed to him was more work than thanking them for a menial gift.

so here you both were, less than twenty four hours before valentine’s day. standing in front of heeseung’s bathroom mirror. matching shirts. matching rings. and quite possibly the stupidest plan conceived by him yet.

glancing up from your phone, you met heeseung’s gaze in the mirror. “hee there’s no way this is gonna work… i’m your best friend. almost everyone. no everyone on campus knows that.”

heeseung hummed out a response as he continued to style his hair nicely. a faint smirk on his lips as he enjoyed the moment. what you didn’t know was that heeseung developed the biggest crush on you after high school. heeseung was aware of the fact he would never be able to tell you his feelings. after all in your eyes he was your playboy best friend. nothing more than that.

but by some miracle he convinced you to be his girlfriend for valentine’s. even if the title was fake in it’s name. he still felt like it was a win win situation to him.

“come on, don’t say that yn. it’s believable! the player guy best friend, finally falls for his girl best friend. what’s there not to believe?” heeseung couldn’t help but let out a scoff while finishing up his hair.

“yeah okay. very believable…” your arms crossed at his horrible explanation. no one in their right mind would believe that the, lee heeseung had fallen for his best friend.

heeseung turned around from the mirror to face you. “alright come here.” his hand stretched out beckoning for you to come over.

you briefly rolled your eyes. still feeling the plan was idiotic. taking his hand, heeseung lightly tugged you forward in front of him. your frame now flushed against his wider body.

your body stiffened slightly. becoming hyper aware of how close heeseung was. he was your best friend. that’s how you viewed him your whole life. but that fact alone couldn’t change that, as frustrating it is to admit. heeseung is genuinely attractive.

“so the only way for this whole ordeal is to be as natural as possible. which is for me to wrap my arms around you.” once heeseung explained what needed to be done. his arm snaked around your waist. holding you firmly against himself.

your face softly heated up as the space between you both lessened. realizing now would be the time for the photo. you brought your phone up from your side. shaky fingers opening up the camera app. making sure to get a good angle before snapping a photo, heeseung stopped you.

“wait yn. you’re barely putting effort into this.” heeseung’s lips turned into a slight pout. you couldn’t help but eye him in the mirror. turning away the moment his eyes met with yours. his hold on your waist tightened at your reaction.

“well what else am i supposed to do? isn’t this fine?”

“not really. your arms look really awkward. here let me help. maybe if i do this it’ll look better.”

before you could protest, heeseung wrapped his arm across your chest. the pose with out a doubt looked possessive. as if he was silently declaring that you were his. no one else’s. your heart slightly fluttered at the feeling. yet you hated that it did. you knew heeseung wasn’t being serious in his actions. he just needed a cop out from all the girls that bothered him now.

heeseung continued on to explain taking the task seriously. “now like this you can put your hand on my forearm. i think my arm that’s across your chest would do.”

using your free hand, you placed it where heeseung instructed you too. taking another glance at the mirror. you both did look like a couple. the matching shirts to the matching rings, he managed to obtain. really sold the deal.

“oh yeah. we definitely look like a couple. told you we’d be pull it off.” a sly smirk was spread across his face. his smirk lingered. noticing the way you slightly jumped when his fingers grazed against your waist. he didn’t expect you to be so antsy in his grasp. not that he was complaining though.

heeseung then rested his chin on top of your head. putting on a cheeky smile, ready for the photo. “ok this is a good pose.”

“geez. i can’t believe this might actually work.” you hated to agree with him. but you and heeseung fit the picture of a couple. if this tricked everyone tomorrow you were bound to eat your own words. finally you snapped a couple photos. in between those few minutes heeseung suggested different poses as well.

there were ones where his back would face the mirror as he hugged your body. your frame being engulfed by his wide shoulders. another one he created with you, had him pose with his face in your neck. the illusion of it made it seem as if he was kissing your neck. once finished heeseung scrolled through all the photos. his face having satisfaction all over it.

“yeah. these are really good. we did a good job. if no girls bother me tomorrow, i have you to thank for the rest of my life yn.” heeseung lowered the phone, flashing you a bright smile.

“yeah yeah. i’m just surprised you put so much effort into this. even so far as to getting rings…”

“hey what can i say. i’m a stickler for perfection. also wear the ring tomorrow. just incase.”

“sure will do. well im going home now! hope your stupid post goes well!”

finally getting back home after heeseung’s did you really take a good look at the photos. you couldn’t help but continuously stare at the first photo you took. it was odd on how good you both fit with one another. even more odd how you somewhat missed his touch. missed the way his arm wrapped around your waist as if he was really your boyfriend.

realizing what you were thinking, you quickly dismissed it. heeseung is your best friend. nothing more nothing less. not to mention he’s a player. even if said player is genuinely nice to woman... but that didn’t matter. you had a set boundary and truly needed to stick to it.

soon valentine’s day came and went. during the day you checked heeseung’s post. the photos he chose were good, too good... not to mention the caption that was paired with the post. it read “spending the day with her”, accompanied with too many heart emojis to seem natural. were people really gonna buy this? finally finding heeseung on campus, you immediately noticed his empty arms.

“no way…” you stood infront of him utterly shocked. not believing what your eyes were seeing.

“told you they would believe it.” his arms opened out, showing off the movability of his empty arms. “this totally means you gotta act like my girlfriend for a bit.” heeseung teased as he rested his arm around your waist.

the post worked… for the first time in what felt like forever, heeseung was spending valentine’s alone. did this mean you’d have to keep up the act? are you really gonna have to play girlfriend for longer than one day? there was no way you agreed to something far more complicated right?

perm taglist ( open! refer to this post ) . . . @ikeulove @leehsngs @nickiminajleftasscheek @ijustwannareadstuff20

©myjjongie 2025

[pixiesndberries]

𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐃, 𝐉𝐉𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 —

a small series of Jujutsu Kaisen men as your husband !

☆ OUR STARS : Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Choso Kamo, Aoi Todo, Toji Fushiguro, and more !

━ REQUESTED BY : none

━⁠ WARNINGS : none

ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : were back again at daily posting 🙏🏻 to my pookies who supported me, y'all made me giggle and kickin' my feet in my bed last night 👉🏻👈🏻 love lots!

GOJO SATORU, as your husband !

• Gojo being your husband is no different from being your boyfriend — he still gotta be that same person you dated few years ago, though he became more serious about situations and decisions because you guys are married but his goofy, annoying, clingy side is still there — I mean when he met you and been with you for like two weeks your caller name is already set as 'wifey'.

Gojo who totally acts like a mom when you leave for work, he is like a freaking HOUSEWIFE —

"honey!" he sings as he walks into the living room seeing you brush your hair Infront of the mirror, getting ready for work. "hmm?" you responded and quickly turns your head at him — he's wearing a this is what an awesome husband looks like apron which made you too stunned to speak, "I created a bento for you." he smiles as he hands out a nicely wrapped bento box which was really new to you because it's always you who keep creating bentos for him, usually when he leaves for a mission.

"thank you, honey." you say softly with a warm smile as you accept his bento that he specially created for you, he can't help but to feel like a love sick teenager seeing you smile like that. He officially takes the position of being a housewife 🫡

Gojo who couldn't stop talking about the future he wants with you like nonstop — this man would talk about having three million carbon copy of him with you and would name them after megumi, yuji, nanami and basically all of his friends, students, and dead relatives 🏃🏻‍♀️💨 — I FEEL LIKE HE GOTTA BE THAT TYPE OF PERSON.

Gojo always flexes you everyday and YOU are his hyper fixation — argue with the wall, he gotta be the type of man to say "she's my wife." randomly when he's talking to an old friend he haven't seen for a long time. HE WILL BE THE HUSBAND WHO YOU WILL SEE WEARING "I LOVE MY WIFE" TYPE OF SHIRT WITH THE UGLIEST FONT AND PHOTO TEMPLATE EVER. Once a person mentions your name he ain't gonna shut the fuck up.

I just know this marriage go'n be like Ryan Reynolds and Blake Lively's relationship 🙏🏻 ABSOLUTELY RANDOM TEXTS FROM HIM, UPDATING YOU TOO MUCH.

2:32 pm

gojo : shitting at the mall cuz i don't have anywhere to shit on.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : i miss you my wife, my beautiful wife.

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : [sent an attachment]

gojo : your very handsome husband ❤️

2:40 pm

you : stop spamming me messages love, im at work 🙏🏻

gojo : why? is it turning you on 😏

you : that's a photo of your feet.

Gojo who became a seriously hands on person when you told him that you're pregnant — when he has missions with yuji, megumi, or maybe nobara and you told him that you're very tired to do anything today he will be like,"okay kids, I got to go I have important things to do." and dashed away before they could say something and mf arrived at yalls house within a second.

Gojo who cried when he carry his baby for the first time, he was sobbing like hell — girl dad? boy dad? BRO HE IS BOTH ‼️ "okay we'll name this one suguru and this one-" he is going to come up with the most ridiculous names, probably the worst one was his dead ancestor.

okay seriously, Gojo would be a full time dad after his children were born — he will always stay at home as much as he can, having twins isn't easy plus he's trying to help you with his full power and make sure you don't feel alone through this.

"gojo.." you grumble as you felt his presence disappearing next to you at bed, you open your eyes and sees he wasn't there which led you to stand up and start looking for him — you walk out of the bedroom and noticed that the twin's bedroom door was open so you check it out.

in your suprise, gojo was in the rocking chair with the twin's in his arms peacefully sleeping and he is snoring like hell. You can't help but smile seeing this moment, it warms you heart. You quickly grabbed your phone and took a quick photo, this is what you exactly wished for.

Gojo who couldn't stop posting you and his little angels and his fans are absolutely living for it, it's like his day wouldn't complete without posting cute photos of his angels and of course, you as well. Gojo is indeed a Facebook mom —

; gojosatoru

tagged : @y/n.instagram | fam time 🤍 !

liked by megumi.22 and 8,957 others

itaaa.yuji | I volunteer as a tribute to babysit them 🫡

nobaraaa | CUTIES.

shokoleiri.7 | adorbs

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[kythed]

roomate!geto x reader

it's 1am, and geto suguru is freezing. he's got a hot water bottle, a comforter, and two thick blankets, yet he's still shivering like a naked mole rat in midwinter.

why am i so fucking cold? geto thinks, feeling ridiculous as he rubs his legs together like a giant cricket. he wonders if he's inexplicably lost fifty pounds in the night and his body is shutting down. or maybe the apartment has been magically transported to a remote arctic wasteland.

"suguru?" the door creaks open, and geto sits up, squinting at your face, illuminated by the hallway light.

"oh, hey," he says, pulling his blankets up to his chin. "you okay?"

"yeah," you say, slipping into the room and closing the door behind you. geto reaches over and flicks on his bedside lamp. "i think our central heating switched off. it's, like, unbearable."

you look small and vulnerable in the yellow lamplight. so different from your usual put-together state. geto raises an eyebrow at your penguin-patterned pajama pants, and you flush.

"a gift from my grandma, asshole," you say, straightening your tank top. geto tries not to dwell on how thin and semi-see through it is.

"mhm," he says, flashing you what he knows is a charmingly ironic grin. he shifts under his covers. "yeah, it's cold. i honestly don't know how i'm gonna fall asleep again."

"well," you say, glancing down at your feet. you're uncharacteristically bashful. "i was thinking, maybe—and it's totally okay if you're not comfortable with this—i was wondering if i could sleep with you? just for the body heat. my room is, like, super cold and—"

"you wanna sleep with me?" geto repeats, just to see you squirm. he knows he's being a little mean. but he can afford to be, especially when he already knows exactly what his answer is.

"not like that," you're quick to say. you blush harder. "i mean, obviously. obviously i would never—"

"aw," he says with a melodramatic pout. "never ever?"

the two of you have teased each other like this before. joking that you'd get married if you were both still single by 40, bringing each other as plus-ones to various work events and telling coworkers you'd been together since high school—but somehow the teasing felt very different when you were both in various states of undress.

"maybe if you got a haircut," you say with a small smile, rubbing the chicken skin on your arms. geto feels his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "anyway. please? can i sleep here? just for tonight."

"sure, kid," he says, pulling back the covers for you. he knows you hate it when he calls you that, but tonight you don't protest. "c'mere."

you slip in, instantly curling up against his side. geto feels his whole body thrum when your ice-cold skin presses up against his. his body automatically wraps around yours, tugging your waist closer, slipping his arm beneath your head. he's never been this close to you. it feels wrong, but it also feels natural.

"better?" he says, lips brushing the back of your neck. he feels you stiffen a little at his warm breath.

"much," you say. you pull his arm tighter around you and nestle into the curve of his body. "and just so we're clear: no funny business."

"i wouldn't dream of it," he says, voice low. you smell so good. so you. he feels something instinctive, something evolutionary in himself say this is it, isn't it? "as i've said many times before, you utterly repulse me. we could never be more than roommates."

"never ever," you say, and as you do, you bring his knuckles up to your lips and press a warm, soft kiss on them. geto bites back a gasp. he's suddenly very aware of his t-shirt and shorts being the only barriers separating his body from yours.

"get that haircut, suguru," you whisper, so soft he almost doesn't catch it. "then we'll talk."

"okay," he whispers back, then, closing his eyes, he settles into the bed, with you in his arms. slowly, slowly, his breathing falls into step with yours: inhale, exhale. inhale... exhale. (just before he drifts off, he makes a mental note to call the nearest salon tomorrow.)