#if they look innocent enough for long enough

[dreamauri]

♪ — 𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗧𝗥𝗢𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗜𝗔𝗟𝗟𝗬 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗚 𝗚𝗙 lewis hamilton x  fem! genz! reader ( fluff ) fic summary . . . You never meant to fall for a man twice your age, but somehow, Lewis Hamilton makes thirty-something age gaps feel like background noise. In a world of fast cars and faster headlines, you become the softest scandal on the grid—his controversially young girlfriend (2.3k words)

( my master list | more of lewis hamilton ) ( requests )

You spot him across the room like a plot twist in a book you didn’t mean to start reading—one of those late-night, one-more-chapter choices that end with your sleep schedule in ruins and your heart a little dented.

He’s standing by the bar like he owns the concept of cool, leaning one elbow against the counter, glass in hand, dressed like he just got off a jet and into a Vogue spread. Chunky rings flash with every movement. A silver chain rests on his collarbone like it was born there. Sunglasses inside—normally a red flag—but on him? It’s working. Unreasonably well.

He doesn’t look real. He looks curated. Like someone who’s used to being watched. Someone who doesn’t have to try to be interesting, because the world already decided he is.

And the weird part? You don’t know who he is.

Which makes him fair game.

You down the last of your drink like a dare, swipe your thumb across your bottom lip in case there’s gloss out of place, and march toward him like the protagonist of your own little fever dream.

“Hey,” you say, voice dipped in confidence, grin hooked to one corner of your mouth. “Quick question. Are you this hot all the time, or is it just the lighting in here doing community service?”

He turns his head slowly, like he knows he’s about to be entertained. Looks at you over the rim of his sunglasses with those lazy, almost amused eyes. Then lowers them altogether, letting you see the full scope of his expression.

Blink. Slow blink. Smile.

Then—laughter.

A warm, surprised kind of laugh. Like you just opened a window in a room that hadn’t been aired out in a while.

“You don’t know who I am?” he asks, head tilting, eyebrows raised.

“Nope,” you chirp, popping the ‘p.’ “But judging by that look, you clearly think I should. Celebrity? Secret agent? CEO of Hot Men, Inc.?”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts his drink to his lips. It’s whiskey, neat. Of course it is. “I like you.”

“Obviously,” you reply, deadpan. “So, what’s your name, mysterious man with excellent bone structure and suspicious levels of swagger?”

“Lewis,” he says. It rolls off his tongue casual and smooth, like he’s said it a thousand times to people already impressed.

You repeat it slowly, like a sip of something expensive. “Lewis. You got a last name, or are you trying to stay mysterious on purpose?”

“I’m trying,” he says, smirk tucked behind his glass. “But now I’m curious. How old are you?”

You narrow your eyes in playful suspicion. “Why? You tryna check if I need parental permission to flirt with you?”

He laughs again, and it’s even better this time—less surprised, more like he’s starting to settle into the rhythm of you. “Just making sure I’m not getting arrested.”

“Relax, officer,” you reply, pressing a palm to your chest with mock innocence. “I’m twenty-four. Legal, unproblematic, and only occasionally unhinged.”

But his smile shifts—just slightly. A flicker of something cautious flashes behind those honey-brown eyes.

“Damn,” he mutters, not unkindly. “I’m too old for you.”

You arch a brow. “You can’t be that old.”

He gives you a small shrug. “I’m forty.”

There’s a beat.

A pause long enough to pour another drink in.

Your jaw drops. You step back, press a hand to your mouth in mock horror.

“Wowe,” you gasp. “You’re a fossil. How were the dinosaurs? Did you ride a pterodactyl to school?”

He throws his head back and cackles, catching the attention of the bartender and a couple people nearby. It’s not just amusement—it’s delight. You got him.

“Ruthless,” he grins at you.

You shrug, unapologetic. “What can I say? I like my men aged like wine and slightly traumatized.”

He raises his glass. “Well. You might be in luck.”

You clink your empty glass against his full one, eyes never leaving his.

Somewhere in the background, a bass-heavy track starts to play. But the real beat is in the space between you—charged and golden and humming with the promise of something very, very interesting.

You’re not supposed to be here.

Not in the paddock. Not wearing borrowed sunglasses and an oversized McLaren jacket that smells like someone else's boyfriend. Not sipping on a bottled water like you belong, casually trying not to gawk at multi-million-dollar cars or the people walking around like they own oxygen.

But you’re here.

A friend’s plus one, a last-minute invite when her PR-boyfriend flaked on escort duty. So you tagged along—because hello, free food, hot people, shiny cars, and maybe the chance to flirt with a driver or two. You figured worst-case scenario, you'd leave with a selfie and a new screensaver.

What you didn’t expect was to see him again.

Lewis.

Mysterious Lewis from the bar. GQ-cover Lewis. Ring-wearing, chain-glinting, forty-year-old fossil Lewis who made you laugh so hard you almost forgot your own name.

He’s walking through the paddock like he’s parting the sea. Everyone moves around him like he's made of something sacred—crew nodding, fans whispering, someone with a camera backing up just to get the shot. He looks… different today. Like he’s not just dressed cool, but armored in it. Like confidence stitched into a race suit.

Your jaw almost hits the gravel.

You don’t even think—your feet just move.

“Lewis!”

He turns.

Sunglasses again, of course. But when he spots you? That smile. Slow, warm, like he knew you'd show up eventually.

You grin, planting yourself right in front of him, toe to boot.

“Okay,” you say, breathless but smug, “you cannot turn me down this time. This is clearly fate.”

He laughs. It rumbles in his chest, head tilting like he’s trying to drink you in without making it obvious.

“You really didn’t Google me, huh?” he says.

You raise a brow. “Should I have? Wait, are you, like, a famous pit crew guy or something? The energy drinks guy?”

He just smiles. The kind of smile that hides a hundred secrets and a thousand wins.

“I gotta go,” he says, stepping closer for just a second. “But I’ll see you on the podium.”

You blink. “What podium?”

But he’s already walking away.

Helmet under one arm, swagger turned up to eleven, disappearing into one of the Mercedes garages like some kind of very sexy magician.

You look to your friend. “What podium?!”

Your friend is pale. “You don’t know who that is?”

“Should I???”

“That’s Lewis Hamilton.”

You snort. “No it’s not. His name is just Lewis. He didn’t even give me a last name.”

“BECAUSE HE’S LEWIS HAMILTON. SEVEN-TIME WORLD CHAMPION. THE GOAT. LITERAL SIR.”

You freeze. Fully buffer. Brain spinning like a car on slick tyres.

Cut to three hours later, and you’re in the Mercedes unit, watching on the big screen as the man you once called a fossil overtakes two cars and wins the freaking British Grand Prix like it’s casual.

The crowd explodes.

Your heart does too.

You're on your feet, half in disbelief, half in awe. You just watched a man drive like a myth, and all you can think is: he told me he was forty and I made a dinosaur joke.

And just as you start contemplating crawling into a hole forever, he finds you again.

Post-race glow. Hair half-flattened from the helmet. Fireproof suit half-unzipped to reveal that chain you remember from the bar. Sweat and champagne still clinging to his skin like stardust.

He looks at you with that same grin.

“Still think I’m someone’s manager?” he teases, voice low, eyes shining.

You gape at him. “You won. Like, you—won. Your name’s on the trophy. That podium. That—your home race??”

He shrugs, like it’s no big deal. “Must be fate. You show up, I win. Gotta say… you might just be my lucky charm.”

Your brain short-circuits. “I—I called you a fossil.”

He laughs. Full, delighted, Lewis-laugh. “And you humbled me before I got cocky. We make a great team.”

You bite back a grin, cheeks burning. “So… you celebrating tonight, or what?”

“Obviously,” he says. “You’re coming.”

it’s supposed to be a quick trip. A flash visit, blink-and-you-miss-it, in-and-out kind of thing. You’ve been swamped—deadlines, drama, flights rerouted like bad karma—but something in you ached to be there. For him. For Lewis.

So you made time. You chose time.

And now? Now you’re stuck in Austrian traffic, inching toward the Red Bull Ring in a car that’s doing more idling than moving, hair frizzing in the heat and hands white-knuckling your phone.

You press it to your ear. “I swear to god, if I miss your race because a literal cow is blocking the road—”

Lewis laughs on the other end, warm and fond. “A cow?”

“A cow, Lewis. Just standing there. Living her truth. Meanwhile, I’m two bad songs away from losing it.”

“You sound stressed, babe.”

“Gee, what gave it away?” you snap, then sigh. “Sorry. I just wanted to be there before lights out. Front row, proud girlfriend, full ensemble.”

His voice softens. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

“Barely.”

“Doesn’t matter. You’re still my lucky charm. Even if you’re watching from the parking lot.”

You roll your eyes, but your smile gives you away. “Go win something, fossil.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He gets P2.

You watch the final laps on your phone screen, pressed against the parkinglot gates, heart in your throat and hands half-numb. The crowd erupts. Flags wave. You swear you can hear the champagne pop all the way from the parking lot.

And then—

There he is.

Striding out from the gates like he owns Austria, still in his suit, curls damp under his cap, smile already loaded like a secret.

“Hey,” he calls out, just loud enough for you to turn.

You do. And then you forget how to breathe.

Because Lewis Hamilton kisses you like the cameras aren’t watching. Like the whole world doesn’t know his name. Like you didn’t just call him a fossil two weeks ago and now you’re wearing his hoodie like a badge of honor.

You pull back, dazed and pink. “That was… public.”

“Could’ve made it more dramatic,” he teases. “Want a dip next time?”

“You’re so cocky for a man who came in second.”

He grins. “I’ll take second if it means I get to see that blush.”

You're about to fire back—something witty, something flirty—when someone from Mercedes runs up, breathless. “Lewis, mate. You need to come back to the unit. Now.”

He frowns. “Everything alright?”

The guy looks between the two of you, eyes wide. “George got disqualified.”

You both blink.

“What?” you say, at the same time Lewis mutters: “No way.”

“Track limits. Deleted laps. It just came through.”

Which means—

“You’re P1,” you whisper, eyes wide.

Lewis turns to you, slow and stunned. Brows raised. Smile blooming like he knew.

“Guess you really are my lucky charm,” he says, low and gleaming.

You shake your head, biting back a grin. “I didn’t even see the race.”

“Didn’t have to,” he murmurs, already pulling you into his arms. “Just had to show up.”

Thursdays are usually soft-launches. Media day. Press conference drip. Everyone pretending they’re not sizing each other up, that they’re not itching for Sunday, that they’re not clocking every outfit and wink and subtle little flex.

But this Thursday?

You walk in and the whole paddock blinks.

Because Lewis Hamilton—Sir Lewis Hamilton—is already waiting by the entrance like a man on a mission. Like the sun rises wherever you land. And he’s dressed like a dream dipped in platinum, silver shirt half-buttoned, rings glinting, pants tailored within an inch of heaven.

But it’s the way he looks at you that melts reality a little.

“Hey, pretty girl,” he murmurs as you reach him.

You grin, a little breathless, fixing the collar of his shirt even though it’s perfect. “You’re overdressed.”

He eyes your outfit—slick and sharp, Prada shades and knee-high boots like you own the grid—and hums, “Nah. We’re matching.”

And you are. Silver and black, sleek and dangerous. A walking power couple with zero subtlety. Someone snaps a pic. Then another. Cameras start clicking like popcorn.

He slips his hand into yours. Casual, confident. Like it’s nothing. Like it’s everything.

And then the tweets start.

You scroll a few of them while waiting outside hospitality, phone buzzing like a feral bee. You snort-laugh at the “get it grandpa” one. Lewis peeks over your shoulder and raises a brow.

“They’re obsessed with you,” you say, smirking.

“They’re obsessed with you,” he corrects, tugging you closer by the waist. “You okay?”

You shrug, leaning into him. “I mean, people think I’m either your niece or your mid-life crisis.”

He snorts. “You’re my win.”

Your smirk falters—just for a second—because god, he’s so earnest. So warm. Like a damn sunbeam with abs.

You recover quick, flicking your sunglasses down. “Damn right I am.”

He laughs loud, head tipping back. “There she is.”

All day, people stare.

Team members smile politely. Fans whisper behind phones. Media pretends not to mention it while asking if you're enjoying your "first F1 paddock experience" (you’ve been to three, thank you very much).

You pose for a few pics. Kiss Lewis on the cheek when he heads into the garage. Sip your overpriced iced coffee like nothing rattles you.

But every so often—when it’s quiet—you hear the whispers again. About the age gap. The headlines. The way you don’t look like you belong next to someone as legendary as him.

So when you catch your reflection in the hospitality glass—twenty-four and glowing but clearly young—you take a breath.

And then you smirk at yourself. Flip your hair. Take a selfie.

Caption it:

“idk i just think i’m a slay.”

And Lewis? He reposts it.

voice notes 🔊. . . ( im so writting a p2 for this when he moves to ferrari and the disqualifying in china )

[anantaru]

⚝ DAY 11 — BREEDING

kinktober 2024. — masterlist | ao3

— including. — heizou, neuvillette, wriothesley, albedo

— warnings. — fem! reader, breeding, lots of cum n spit, hitting it raw, petnames used: darling, baby, rough syx

⚝ — HEIZOU

it's addiction, a form of fixation and heizou doesn't stop until you're crammed full of his cum— literally as his fingers spread his seed from your lips down to your chin to watch it mark you, your tears mixing in as he presses his thumb past your tongue, just to see how far you'll take it.

"you're a damn masterpiece," heizou coos, tilting his head with a grin that's not just wicked— it's fanatical, wild, the kind of grin a man gives when he's long past the point of reason and fully drowning in sexual passion. his fingers were still wet with you, his knuckles glistening, and yet he kept them poised just out of reach, just enough to make you twitch, grind, gasp like you're coming undone without him even touching you.

"look at you," he drawls, voice so sweet you'd never tell he's feigning innocence, "quivering mess for me already? you don't even know what to do with yourself, do you?"

without looking away once, the detective watches— fixated as your thighs tremble, as your hips lift just barely from the mattress, chasing friction like you'll die if you don't get it, body slick and aching, soaked enough to stain the sheets beneath you— and archons, does it make him smirk wider, you feel it, the raw sting of overstimulation threading through your gut, curling your toes, making your stomach pull tight with the weight of everything he isn't letting you have.

"fuck, i knew you'd take it all baby," heizou's already painted you in his spit and cum— yet it's still not enough, it never was— instead, he pulls his cock from your tightness just to smear the tip over your swollen entrance, patting his dick on your folds, laughing breathlessly when it makes a filthy squelch, "this mess? this is mine, mine, gonna fuck it into you until it's leaking out onto the sheets, no one else gets to see you like this,"

and the detective makes sure of it— everlastingly keeping you plugged full of his slender fingers, thick cock and tongue and when you cum again, after he's bred and bred and bred you the entire night, you're spasming and gushing so violently it splatters all over the sheets. yet he doesn't stop, instead, heizou just shoves his cock back in deeper, harder until you writhe beneath him, back bowing again and again— each arch a reflex, a raw plea for mercy as numerous sparks burst behind your eyes, "gonna mark you with it baby, yeah? you'll be dripping for days."

⚝ — NEUVILLETTE

neuvillette's formality cracks the moment he realizes what he's done— your folds already glistening, your mouth open and wanting, wanting him and archons, dragons beyond, the way you soaked him up was putting him on edge as he drops to his knees like it's judgment, tongue diving in to taste his mess, face buried, nose brushing your clit as he moans like it's the only language he knew, "so wet already, you— you need correction,"

he rasps— voice rough, an octave lower, soaked in something that might be reverence if it weren't so wretchedly obscene— and still, he doesn't let you touch yourself, not even when your thighs begin to shake around him, not even when your body rocks with the force of how close you were, how desperately your slick pussy clenched around nothing in search of friction.

you ache, no, you burn, for the pressure the moment his girth was pressing into your walls again, the smallest touch setting you on fire, for anything to soothe the overwhelming throb between your legs.

your hands twitch where he's pinned them down, the need so sharp it's nearly painful as your stomach coils, tight and low and heavy, and all you could think about was grinding your hand down to help yourself out, circling your clit fast and frantic until you fell apart.

but neuvillette only watches you, drinking in the sight of your helpless squirming, the flushed heat of your skin, the lust in your eyes, the way you beg without words.

the man wanted to see it— that aching edge where pleasure becomes unbearable, he wanted to know how far he could take it, how much you'll squirm, how much of his seed he could store inside you, how loudly you'll whimper, all because he won't let you come.

"you want it that badly?" he whispers, lips ghosting your throat, "oh so greedy, darling, so desperate, do you even know how you look like this? shaking for me?"

and he still doesn't let you touch yourself.

he fucks you until you sob, fills you until you cry, until your juices were slicking up his pelvis, spit frothed into the mess, his hands keeping you open wide before he pulls out to slowly rub his shaft between your folds again, your slick and his cum coating his erection so fucking nicely the overstimulation has you grinding down against his cock in mindless circles, hips chasing friction like you're possessed, like your body had forgotten how to stop.

"i need to see it," he growls, standing, slapping the head of his cock against your cunt, "need to watch it drip out," and when neuvillette fucks you full, it's with unbearable precision— every thrust calculated, dragging your walls wide and making you feel how his cum fills every inch, "don't try to hold it in, darling, let it spill out, let them all see how thoroughly i've claimed you."

⚝ — WRIOTHESLEY

to wriothesley it was certainly not enough to just fuck you— he wanted to destroy you, breed you until you're feeling only him and his warm seed pooling from your hole, the man wanted to see his release flooding your pussy, cum mixed with spit and arousal as he mouths at your chest, grunting into your skin.

"you're so fucking good at taking it," he pants, "i'm impressed," as his voice turns husky, cracked open at the seams, like he's trying to growl but the sound gets caught somewhere in his chest— because fuck, you're tight, yeah? tighter than he expected, tighter than he could handle without his breath catching and his rhythm faltering for just a split second.

naturally the handsome man doesn't say it out loud, but you could feel it— how his hips were stuttering every now and then, how his hands gripped you harder, how his mouth parted like he's choking on the heat of it all.

he's supposed to be in control, isn't he? always was, right? but the way you clenched around him made something shiver through his whole body as his forehead falls against yours, damp and hot, "fuck, you're gonna make me cum too fast like this— shit—'", as his cock drags so deep inside you it knocks the rationality off your head, your toes curling and thighs twitching in exhaustion, hips jerking involuntarily, yet he's thrusting down harder just to make you feel more of that unbearable stretch.

the obscene pressure made your mind go white and your slick drip down his thighs, "but you're gonna take more, aren't you? I'm gonna stretch this hole until it can't hold another drop," as wriothesley shamelessly spits between your legs before watching it drip down to mix with your slick, his groans landing on your ears as if it's heaven.

"gonna fill you again," he growls between thrusts, hips slamming into you, "again and again until i fucking see it running down your thighs," as he doesn't stop even when pretty tears bead your lashes— wriothesley just flips you over, presses your cheek to the soaked sheets and fucks you through your whimpers, "you're gonna wear my cum like a brand."

⚝ — ALBEDO

scientific? sure, terrifying and obsessed? please.

albedo watches every twitch, every pulse, every droplet that slips from your hole after the first round, "fascinating," he mutters something dark underneath his breath, fingers sinking into the obscene slick between your thighs— warm, wet, and clenching as though your body itself was begging.

he groans low when he feels the way you pulse around nothing, fluttering and soaked, hips twitching like you cannot bear the emptiness. yet his hips don't move at first— just press deeper, just spread you wider, parting the mess to watch how it drips and sticks, how your whole body quivers from the exposure.

albedo curses, "ahh, you're throbbing for me already? this way? this wet?" it leaves him like instinct, resembling life— something deeper than thought, older than want, "you're clenching so tightly, it's trying to hold me in," as he continues to be brutal the second time— driving in so hard your breath leaves your lungs, his mouth messy and open against yours.

"do you feel that?" he hisses, sharp and low, but you barely hear anything over the blood rushing in your ears, your toes curling helplessly, nails digging into his back as sparks of raw lust flare through you— wickedly so, unrelenting shocks that made your body flinch and jolt against him.

your stomach felt tight, heavy, on the brink of exploding— like it's about to break open from how close you were, how full you felt of his cum, how deep albedo was inside you.

every thrust knocks your head back into the pillows, making your body seize up like it's trying to run and stay all at once as he groans when you clamp down at his cock, and the way you twitch around him drove him into madness, "how it gushes back out when i pull? yet i hate seeing it leave you," as he spreads you wider, studies how his cum seeps out, then pushes it back in with slow, filthy thrusts, "again, you'll take it all again, i want you dripping from the mouth and cunt, maybe both— marked inside and out, i need to make it happen."

©2025 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[wendichester]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ two winchesters walk into a bar,

summary. making a quick stop at harvelle's has never been more fun

pairing. dean winchester x jo's cousin!reader genre. edgy fluff

wordcount. 921

You weren’t planning to stay long.

Just a pitstop. Gas, a drink, maybe a warm hug from your cousin and a plate of something fried. Nebraska was barely a dot on the map in your road trip itinerary. But Harvelle’s? It’s already leaving a mark.

The bar is dim, humid with jukebox static and the cling of summer sweat. Smells like spilled beer, cigarettes, and something comforting you can’t place — like home that’s never been yours.

Jo’s wiping down the counter when you slide in, boots scuffed from travel, lip gloss already smudging. She does a double take, then her face lights up.

“Holy hell,” she says, pulling you into a hug. “Didn’t think you were serious when you said you’d drop in.”

“I live on chaos and bad ideas,” you grin, plopping onto a stool.

She pours you a whiskey without asking. “You still allergic to tequila?”

“Only emotionally.”

You’re mid-sip when you feel it. Eyes. On you.

Your spine straightens just enough. There’s a shift in the room. Not dramatic. Just… aware.

You glance sideways.

And he’s already looking.

Leaning at the far end of the bar like he owns it — broad shoulders, dark green button-down rolled to his elbows, beer bottle dangling from two fingers. He’s all jaw and attitude, too good-looking to be this subtle about it. But there’s something warm behind his stare, like he’s already imagining what your laugh sounds like in his ear.

You blink. “Who’s that?”

Jo follows your gaze and immediately groans. “Ugh. Ignore him.”

You raise a brow. “Why?”

“Because that’s Dean Winchester.”

You glance again. “...He looks like sin with a driver’s license.”

“Exactly,” Jo mutters. “The kind that sweet talks you out of your pants and your car keys.”

You hum. “Sounds fun.”

She narrows her eyes. “Don’t.”

Too late.

He makes his move the second Jo ducks into the back. Just slides in beside you like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Close enough for you to smell the leather on his jacket and the ghost of whatever cologne he’s too manly to admit wearing.

“Well, well,” he says, voice honey and smoke. “Jo didn’t tell me she had a cousin in town.”

You sip your drink, feigning boredom. “Jo didn’t tell me she had a warning label on you either.”

Dean laughs, low and unbothered. “Gotta say, not the worst intro I’ve had.”

You glance sideways at him, eyes trailing over his hands — strong, scarred, one ring catching the light. “You always come on this strong?”

“Only when it’s worth it.”

“And you decided that in the time it took to cross the bar?”

He smirks. “I’m efficient.”

You bite your lip, but you’re smiling. Damn, he’s good.

“You from around here?” he asks, voice low now. Closer.

“Just passing through.”

“Lucky me.”

Before you can fire back, Jo reappears — and her eyes narrow when she sees the proximity. Dean doesn’t move.

“Dean,” she says, voice sharp. “Didn’t you say you had to be somewhere?”

He looks over lazily. “Yeah. But now I’m here.”

Jo rolls her eyes. “Seriously?”

“What?” He raises his beer. “I’m being friendly.”

She snorts. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”

You look between them. “Wow. This feels… personal.”

“It’s not,” Jo says too quickly.

Dean grins. “It’s a little personal.”

You sip your drink. “So what, you two got a thing?”

Jo glares. “We don’t.”

Dean’s eyes flick to you, teasing. “Why? You jealous?”

You blink, fluttering your lashes innocently. “Of you?”

He lets out a laugh, clearly delighted. “Damn. You’re mean.”

You grin. “You haven't seen half of it.”

Jo cuts in, voice flat. “Dean’s got a thing for being put in his place. Don’t encourage him.”

He shrugs, unfazed. “Or maybe I’ve got a thing for girls who can handle me.”

Your stomach tightens — just a little. It’s the way he says it. Smooth, but with heat underneath. Like he’d love to find out exactly how you’d try.

You set your drink down and tilt your head. “That's your brother, right? What about him?”

Dean blinks. “What about him?”

“I mean,” you smile coyly, “you talk a big game. But Jo says Sammy there is the smart one. The sweet one. Tall, quiet, probably reads poetry in bed…”

Dean nearly chokes on his beer.

You lean closer, voice syrup-slow. “He sounds cute.”

Dean stares at you like you just slapped him with a satin glove.

“Okay,” he says, voice roughening, “now you’re just trying to hurt me.”

You shrug. “Just exploring my options.”

He leans in then, real close, elbow on the bar, lips inches from yours.

“I might not read poetry,” he murmurs, eyes locked on your mouth, “but I’m really, really good with my hands.”

Oh.

Your cheeks flush, warmth flooding your chest — lower.

Jo mutters under her breath behind the bar, “I’m gonna throw up.”

Dean doesn’t look away. He’s smug, but there’s heat there now — real, heavy heat. Like he’d take you out back and press you against the wall just to prove it.

You stare at him. Smile, slow and dangerous.

Then whisper, “I bet you are.”

Jo slaps a rag down between you two like she’s ending a duel. “Okay. Done. Out.”

Dean’s already standing. Not in a rush — just cocky enough to make it look like he’s leaving on his own terms.

He backs away, eyes never leaving yours. “Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart.” And damn, you don't plan to be.

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[theonlyonesora]

One More Hour

Max Verstappen x Reader

The sun was dipping behind the hills of Monaco, casting golden streaks across the floor of your shared apartment — though you'd barely seen Max all day.

Correction: you had seen him — or at least the top of his head — hunched over in the cockpit of his racing simulator like a man possessed, fingers flying across the wheel, eyes locked on the screen.

"Max, baby," you called from the kitchen, gently, sweetly, for the fifth time in three hours, "do you wanna take a break and eat something?"

“One more hour, liefje!” he called back, voice distracted, followed by the squeal of tires from the virtual track.

You rolled your eyes. One more hour, huh? That had been four ago.

You peeked into the gaming room, watching him for a moment — headset on, sleeves rolled up, hair slightly messy in that unfairly hot way — and sighed. He looked so serious. So focused. So... annoying. You decided: drastic times called for girlfriend measures.

Ten minutes later, the Twitch chat started noticing.

[User: VerstappenFever]: wait what’s that in the background [User: maxsupremacy33]: omg is that his gf??? [User: thirsttrapfr]: IS SHE IN A ROBE?? [User: ILuvMax]: what is she DOING??

“Uh, chat, I think—hold on—” Max blinked, noticing movement in his peripheral vision.

You strolled into view behind him, calm as ever, dressed in his oversized Red Bull hoodie... and nothing else, except a mischievous little smile.

"Hey," you murmured, leaning into the frame. "Your one hour is up. Again."

His brows shot up as you leaned over his shoulder, arms loosely around his neck, and pressed a kiss to the corner of his jaw.

Max turned bright red on stream.

“Babe—! I’m live—!” he said, flustered, trying not to laugh.

[User: STOPPLS]: BRO IS BLUSHINGGGG [User: whiplashqueen]: she’s got him WRAPPED 💅🏻 [User: SimpingHard4Max]: if she told me to log off I would. Immediately.

“But you're always live,” you teased, brushing your nose against his ear. “And I'm always waiting.”

He melted like butter in July.

“…Okay,” he sighed dramatically, turning to chat. “Sorry guys. I gotta go.”

[User: noooo]: DON’T LEAVE US [User: Respect]: honestly? we get it. fair. [User: GetItKing]: you W I N, maxy boy

He turned off the stream and swiveled to face you, pulling you into his lap with a groan and burying his face in your shoulder.

"You really came in here with no pants on just to bully me off Twitch?" he murmured, grinning into your skin.

You giggled. "Not just to bully. I also missed you."

Max looked up, eyes soft, thumb brushing your jaw. "You're trouble, you know that?"

"Mm. But I’m your trouble."

He kissed you slowly, like he’d just realized you were better than any sim race.

That night, you curled up together on the couch with takeout, the sunset painting the walls pink, and Max scrolling through Twitch chat highlights.

“She’s got him wrapped,” he read out loud, then glanced at you smugly. “They’re not wrong.”

You tossed a pillow at him, laughing. “Took you long enough to realize.”

.

The soft Monaco sun slipped through half-drawn curtains, washing your shared bedroom in sleepy gold. Max lay sprawled on his stomach, the sheet clinging to the dip of his waist, exposing the smooth expanse of his back and the curve of his shoulder.

You were propped up on your elbow beside him, chin resting in your hand, lazily watching the way his lashes fluttered in sleep. He was snoring — barely, but enough to make you smile.

His hair was a mess from your fingers the night before. His neck still carried faint marks, proof of the way he'd said thank you again and again after you'd pulled him from his sim seat, from the rest of the world.

You leaned over, pressing a featherlight kiss to the slope of his shoulder blade.

Max groaned softly, shifting under the sheet, his voice gravelly and half-asleep.

“…that’s cheating,” he murmured without opening his eyes.

“What is?” you asked innocently, fingers drawing slow circles into his skin.

“Waking me up with your lips like that,” he mumbled, rolling over toward you, his hand snaking around your waist, tugging you closer under the sheets. “Dangerous.”

“Oh, dangerous,” you echoed, amused, brushing your nose against his jaw. “You weren’t saying that when I—”

He cut you off with a sleepy growl and a lazy roll of his hips into yours, hardening between your thighs, “Don’t start something you can’t finish, liefje.”

“Me?” you laughed breathlessly, playing innocent even as your leg hitched over his hip. “I’m just trying to cuddle…”

Max opened one eye, brow arched. “Liar.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, dragging your lips down his neck, “but you love me anyway.”

His grip on your waist tightened. “Unfortunately, yes.”

You gasped dramatically. “Unfortunately?!”

Max flipped you onto your back in one fluid move, sheets tangling between your legs, his weight warm and heavy on top of you. “Okay, fortunately,” he amended, mouth already finding the hollow of your throat. “Very, very fortunately.”

You grinned, heart hammering as his hands wandered. “I should interrupt your streams more often.”

He chuckled low against your skin. “If this is what happens after, you’re banned from letting me finish races.”

“Oh no, Maxy,” you cooed with faux sympathy, fingers slipping into his hair, “is this your way of asking me to distract you more?”

He looked up at you, eyes burning with sleep and want. “It’s me asking you to stay right here for the rest of the damn day.”

You answered with a kiss — slow and sweet and just the beginning of something wicked.

Meanwhile… on Twitter

[User: VerstappenFever]: max hasn’t streamed in 2 days is he dead [User: thirsttrapfr]: he’s not dead. he’s just VERY alive. if u know what i mean [User: f1gossipdaily]: rumor has it he’s been “distracted” lately 😉 [User: MaxsGfSavesLives]: bless her for the content we don’t get to see 😭

[lynbels]

step brother virgin hoon who’s horny 24/7 and jerks off to you without knowing thin walls. Yn shows him what it’s like to have his dick shoved inside a pussy I’m just so down bad

CUM N’ CONFESS ⌗ psh

stepbrother!Sunghoon x reader

⋮ ⌗ ┆ You’ve spent nights listening to your shy, nerdy stepbrother moan through the walls while jerking off to porn—but when you catch him in the act, dripping and curious, you make him drop the screen and fuck you instead ✉️ wc. 2497 - tw. stepcest, virgin!sunghoon, masturbation, oral (f receiving), first time, unprotected sex, teasing, sub!sunghoon, dom!yn, moaning, creampie, slight corruption kink, porn mention, size kink, praise, begging

📝: I want this to happen to me

When Sunghoon first moved in, it was hard not to stare.

He was tall—awkwardly so, like he hadn’t quite grown into it yet—and he always walked around like he was trying to take up less space. Pale skin, like porcelain, not a blemish in sight. He barely spoke during the first family dinner, eyes focused on his plate, nodding shyly when your mom asked if he liked the food. His voice was quiet, almost too soft for how deep it was, like he didn’t trust himself to speak around strangers.

You watched him from across the table. He wouldn’t meet your eyes.

Not once.

He wore oversized hoodies even in summer and fidgeted with the sleeves whenever anyone looked at him too long. And when your parents introduced you two—“This is Y/N. Same age, you’ll get along fine”—he only gave a tiny smile and a stiff little wave, mumbling something that sounded like “Hi” before ducking into his room and shutting the door.

You assumed he was just shy. Maybe a little weird.

But then you noticed how he always paused when you entered a room. How his eyes lingered on your bare legs when you wore shorts around the house. How he remembered things—little things. The exact way you liked your coffee. The kind of music you blasted through your headphones. The fact that you hated the sound of chewing, so he started eating softer foods when you were around.

He never said much, but he noticed everything.

And that quiet, nervous act? It didn’t quite hold up when the lights were off and the walls were thin. Because after your parents left for their honeymoon, you started hearing things. Late at night. Low, choked sounds from the other side of the wall. The creak of bedsprings. A muffled voice—his voice—groaning under his breath.

You tried to ignore it.

The first night. The second.

By the third, you couldn’t sleep.

Because now every time you heard him, it wasn’t just embarrassing.

It made your thighs press together.

It made you think about that tall, quiet boy with the flushed cheeks and the wandering eyes.

And how maybe he wasn’t that innocent after all.

The first few nights, you pretended not to hear it.

You shoved your face into your pillow, turned your music up, even tried falling asleep on the couch once. But no matter what you did, the noises still found you. Quiet, desperate sounds bleeding through the thin wall you shared with your new stepbrother.

You weren’t supposed to notice. You weren’t supposed to listen.

But you did.

You lay in bed, body still, heart beating faster every time the bedsprings in his room gave that familiar little squeak. And then came his breathing—ragged and broken. Whispered curses. The occasional whimper of your name—not loud, not direct, but enough to make your stomach flip.

At first, you told yourself it wasn’t about you.

You were imagining it.

But then came the fourth night.

And you couldn’t pretend anymore.

You lay there, your legs pressed tight together, thighs clenching at nothing. Your breath hitched when you heard it—the sound of his hand, fast and wet, the softest groan punching out of his throat as he muttered something into the mattress.

It made your skin flush.

It made your nipples ache under your thin tank top.

And before you even realized what you were doing, your hand had slipped under the blanket—under your waistband—fingers pressing against the heat between your thighs.

You were soaked.

From him.

It made no sense. It was wrong. He was your stepbrother—quiet, awkward, nerdy Sunghoon who barely said more than two words to you.

But your fingers slid against your folds anyway. You imagined the look on his face behind that wall. Imagined his jaw clenched, eyes shut tight, hips bucking into his fist. And when he moaned again, soft and broken and real, your fingers moved faster.

You bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

But your body was already chasing that high, rocking slowly against your own hand, soaking wet, needing more.

And all because of him.

You stared at the wall for too long. Heard every breath, every slick sound, every soft curse.

Your fingers were still damp when you slipped them out of your shorts, heartbeat pounding in your throat.

This had to stop.

You couldn’t take another night of pretending.

So you got up—quiet as you could—crossed the hallway in the dark, and stood outside his door for a second too long, heart stuttering as you heard the sound of a woman’s moans, high and fake through his laptop speakers.

Then came the breathier sounds—his sounds.

A low grunt. The creak of his bed.

You knocked once. Light. Hesitant.

The sounds stopped instantly.

“Give me a sec,” his voice called, strained and startled.

But you didn’t wait.

You opened the door slowly, the light from the screen spilling across the bed—and there he was.

Sunghoon froze like he’d been shot.

Blanket yanked over his lap, chest heaving, hoodie pushed halfway up his stomach, cheeks bright red.

His eyes were wide behind those thin silver glasses.

“What—what are you doing?” he asked, voice cracking mid-sentence.

You stared at the glow from his laptop, your eyes adjusting.

“Is that porn?”

He didn’t answer.

You stepped further into the room, ignoring the rush of heat between your legs. “What kind?”

Sunghoon looked like he wanted to die. “Y/N, seriously—get out.”

But your eyes were already on the screen, your voice calm. “No. I want to see.”

You walked closer.

He reached out like he was going to shut the laptop, but you got there first.

And your breath caught in your throat when you saw it.

The girl on the screen looked a little like you.

Same hair color. Same body type. Same whiny little moans.

You turned to him slowly. “Really?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Fuck. This is not what it looks like—”

You tilted your head. “I think it’s exactly what it looks like.”

Your eyes dropped to the lump under the blanket, his cock still hard and twitching.

You licked your lips.

He watched that movement like a man starved.

You moved closer, slowly, until you were standing at the edge of the bed. “You’ve been jerking off to me, haven’t you?”

He didn’t answer.

But he didn’t deny it.

Sunghoon’s eyes dropped, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. He didn’t say a word.

“I mean,” you continued, stepping just a little closer, “you’ve been pretty obvious about it. You know the walls are thin, right?”

He winced.

“And the way you say my name sometimes… do you even realize you’re doing it?”

“Stop,” he muttered, voice low and tight, like he couldn’t decide whether he was more embarrassed or turned on.

You smiled. “Why? I’m just asking questions.”

His gaze flicked up to yours, and the look in his eyes was different now—desperate, glassy, like he didn’t know what to do with himself.

You leaned down slightly, voice dropping into a whisper. “Did you imagine me watching you?”

Sunghoon let out the faintest, broken noise.

You bit back a grin. “Did you think about me walking in, catching you? Getting curious?”

You dragged your gaze over him slowly—his messy hair, the sweat at his temples, the way his chest rose and fell like he couldn’t breathe right.

Then you straightened up and turned toward the door.

His eyes widened. “Where are you going?”

You glanced over your shoulder, letting your hand trail up the edge of your tank top lazily. “Nowhere. Just figured I’d give you some privacy. Since you’re so shy.”

Sunghoon looked like he was going to say something—maybe beg, maybe tell you to stay, maybe just fall apart right there—but he stayed quiet.

You paused in the doorway, letting your fingers brush the waistband of your shorts, just barely tugging them down a notch.

Then you looked back and smiled.

“Try not to be too loud this time.”

And with that, you disappeared into the hallway.

Your parents had barely pulled out of the driveway when the silence settled. No more awkward dinners. No more chattering voices in the hallway. Just you and Sunghoon, alone in the house for the weekend.

He hadn’t said much all day—just kept to his room, playing his games, pretending like nothing had happened the night before when you caught him red-handed.

But you could feel it.

The tension.

The way his eyes kept flicking toward you at breakfast. How he mumbled responses when you asked him innocent questions, flinching when you leaned just a little too close. He was unraveling slowly, and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

You decided to push it further.

So that night, once the house was quiet, you made your move.

You waited until it was late—until you knew he’d be in his room with his headphones off, probably pretending to read or sleep.

Then you let yourself moan.

Loud.

One hand between your legs, the other gripping your pillow, and you didn’t bother hiding it this time.

You wanted him to hear.

Your breath hitched in your throat as your fingers slipped lower, already wet, already aching. You thought about the way he looked with that laptop in his lap, the panic in his voice when you caught him, how hard he was under that blanket. And the sounds you made echoed through the thin walls, every whimper exaggerated, every breathy moan a tease.

You cried his name once—just loud enough.

Just once.

Then silence.

A beat passed.

Then you heard it—the quiet creak of his bed, the faint shuffle of footsteps.

Your heart pounded as you lay back, still dripping, still pulsing.

And then came the soft knock.

Three taps.

Controlled. Hesitant.

You smiled, biting your lip.

You’d gotten to him.

You let the knock hang in the air for a second.

Then two.

Then three.

You wanted him squirming.

Finally, you opened the door—just a crack at first. Just enough to meet his eyes. His face was flushed, his lips parted like he couldn’t remember how to breathe. Hoodie sleeves tugged over his knuckles. That same nervous energy humming under his skin, but now it was laced with something darker.

Need.

He didn’t say a word.

You tilted your head. “Did you need something, Sunghoon?”

He blinked, throat bobbing, hands clenched at his sides. “I… I heard you.”

You smiled, stepping back slowly to let him in. “I know.”

He hesitated, like crossing that threshold meant crossing a line he couldn’t come back from. But you didn’t fill the silence. You just waited—patient, composed, legs still bare in your tiny shorts, one strap of your tank top slipping off your shoulder.

When he finally stepped inside, you closed the door behind him.

His eyes dropped to the bed, still messy from where you’d touched yourself just minutes before. You walked past him, brushing against his chest lightly, and sat down right in the center of it—legs crossed, gaze heavy.

“Take your hoodie off,” you said softly.

He obeyed instantly, pulling it over his head with shaky fingers. His shirt came up slightly with it, exposing pale skin and a twitch of lean muscle.

You patted the bed beside you. “Sit.”

He moved like he was in a daze.

Once he was down, his knee bounced anxiously, eyes flicking from your face to your bare thighs and back again.

“Relax,” you said, voice low. “You’re the one who came to me, remember?”

His breath caught.

You leaned in, just close enough for your voice to brush his ear.

“Show me how you touch yourself.”

He stiffened. “What?”

You smiled. “Don’t make me say it twice.”

He blinked at you, stunned, lips parting like he wanted to say something but couldn’t get the words out. His hands hovered in his lap, trembling slightly.

“I—I can’t, you’re—watching—”

“Exactly,” you said, slow and sweet. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? You wanted me to see. So show me.”

He swallowed hard, hand moving to the waistband of his sweatpants. But he didn’t move fast enough.

You clicked your tongue. “Say it first.”

He looked up at you, dazed. “Say what?”

You leaned back against the headboard, spreading your legs lazily. “Beg.”

His breath hitched.

“Tell me how bad you need it. How long you’ve been thinking about me. How many times you’ve gotten off to the sound of my voice. My body. My moans.”

He whimpered under his breath, eyes dropping to your thighs.

“Please,” he said finally, voice rough. “I—I need it. I can’t stop thinking about you, Y/N. I’ve… I’ve been so hard all day, I thought about you in the shower, in bed—fuck, even when you hugged me earlier. Please let me show you. I’ll be good, I promise—”

You reached over, stroking your fingers down his cheek, soft and taunting.

“Good boy,” you whispered.

“Now show me.”

He looked like he could barely breathe.

His hand trembled as he slipped it beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, eyes flickering to your face like he needed your permission one last time. You didn’t blink. You just sat there, watching, legs parted, fingertips brushing lazily over your own thigh as you gave a small nod.

He exhaled shakily and pulled himself out—his cock already flushed, hard, twitching against his stomach. He covered it with one hand like he was ashamed, but you caught the way his hips shifted forward instinctively, already chasing friction.

“Let me see,” you said, voice low, sharp.

Slowly, he moved his hand, revealing everything.

You dragged your eyes over it with zero shame. He was thick. A little curved. Pink at the tip and already leaking. You tilted your head and smiled.

“Cute.”

Sunghoon flushed deeper, his knuckles tightening as he wrapped his fingers around himself. His breath hitched as he gave the first stroke—slow, unsure, eyes on you like he couldn’t believe this was real.

“Faster,” you said.

He obeyed instantly, his hand moving slicker now, a soft sound escaping the back of his throat. You reached between your own legs, not even pretending to be subtle anymore, letting him see the way your fingers slipped under your waistband.

“Does it feel good?” you asked.

He nodded, breathless. “Yeah—fuck, so good…”

“Do you always imagine me when you do this?”

“Yes—every time. Every single time,” he groaned, head tipping back.

You slid two fingers against your folds and moaned softly—just to torture him.

His hips jerked.

“Keep going,” you whispered. “I want to watch you come for me, Sunghoon. Just like you’ve been doing every night.”

He whimpered—actually whimpered—as his hand sped up, his body tensing, sweat starting to bead at his temple.

“Look at me when you finish.”

He dragged his gaze back to yours, pupils blown, mouth parted, and it only took a few more strokes before he came with a desperate cry, thick ropes spilling over his knuckles, his whole body shuddering with the force of it.

You smiled, still touching yourself, letting him sit there trembling and red-faced and ruined.

“You’re such a mess,” you said softly. “But you came so pretty for me.”

He looked up at you, breathless and dazed.

And your fingers didn’t stop moving.

He was still catching his breath when you slid closer, your fingers still slick and glistening with your own arousal. His wide eyes followed every move, lips parted like he didn’t even realize he was still breathing heavy.

You leaned in until your mouth was right at his ear.

“You made a mess,” you whispered. “Now clean mine.”

He blinked slowly, like your words took a second to register. But then he looked down—between your legs, where your shorts were clinging to your soaked core—and his throat visibly tightened.

“Y-You want me to…”

“Eat me out,” you said, clear and unapologetic. “Now.”

His breath caught, but he was already moving—shifting to the floor on his knees, eyes never leaving your center as you leaned back and tugged your shorts down. Your panties followed, slow and sticky, and the second you were bare, his lips parted with a soft gasp.

“You’ve been thinking about this every night, haven’t you?” you murmured, spreading your legs wider. “Listening to me moan, touching yourself to the idea of your stepsister dripping for you.”

Sunghoon whimpered—actually whimpered—before lowering his head.

He started slow, like he was afraid to do it wrong. His tongue flicked tentatively against your folds, gentle and shy at first, but when you let out a sharp breath and tugged his hair, he groaned like he couldn’t help it.

“There,” you whispered. “Right there—don’t stop.”

And he didn’t. His hands clutched your thighs, his mouth getting messier with each stroke of his tongue, each flick against your clit, each wet gasp that spilled from your lips. You felt him sink deeper into it, like he was addicted to your taste, like he couldn’t get enough. His shy little whimpers vibrated against your core, making you grind down harder on his face.

“Fuck, Sunghoon…”

Your voice cracked as the knot in your stomach tightened. His tongue moved faster, sloppier, desperate to make you come, and when your fingers threaded tighter into his hair and you cried out, he groaned like he was the one coming.

You pulsed hard against his mouth, hips jerking as your orgasm tore through you—and he didn’t stop until you were pulling him away, trembling and twitching from the overstimulation.

He sat back, his lips and chin glistening, cheeks flushed red, chest rising and falling like he just ran a mile.

You looked down at him, still breathless.

“…Good boy.”

wanna read my longer ffs? Check out @shy9-29

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ rafe accidentally finds out about your praise kink.

warnings — none, really! praise + praise kink, sexual tension.

cherie's note — i was inspired by a tweet on twitter and i knew i had to write it for rafe omg... this is your sign to get your license if you don't have it yet ˵ •̀ᴗ•́˵

a perfect stop.

the infamous black truck idles in his driveway, your fingers gripping against the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, heart racing.

you glance over at rafe, the boy sat comfortably in the leather seat of his passenger side, waiting for the inevitable commentary. his leg bounces absentmindedly, giving you a small nod of approval — a job well done. not that you had gone far — riding down the dirt marsh roads out of sight from any other vehicle and back, but it was something.

"well?" you ask, a little too eager, a little too nervous.

he doesn't answer right away — lets the tension build between them in that egotistical way he always seemed to do. rafe had a way of making people uncomfortable, he knew that. he watches you for a second. you look flushed — focused and proud and still kind of buzzing from the adrenaline.

"you did good," he remarks, popping the seatbelt out of the lock, "proud of you, kid."

it lands in the silence like a dropped match.

your entire body reacts — shoulders stiffening, breath catching, and your eyes very pointedly avoid his. like if you stare straight ahead long enough, he won't notice how your cheeks had just gone pink — how the heat had crept up your neck, and tinted your ears a shade of red.

but rafe notices everything.

he tilts his head. "...what?"

"nothing."

his brows furrow, confused. just minutes ago, things had been good between you both — normal. but now, you shift uncomfortably under the weight of his gaze while sitting in his driver's seat, flustered and itching for relief from the mortification.

but you look almost... shy — bashful, like his comment had struck something deep inside of you, something not even you were certain about.

"you good?"

"i'm fine," you mutter, eyes darting out towards the window in a hopeful attempt at escape.

oh.

it clicks in his head, the silence between you cracking open just wide enough to let the truth push through. the conversation replays in his mind, each word now laced with meaning he'd missed before. his lips twitch — not with malice, but with something far more dangerous.

a knowing grin spreads across his face like wildfire. he shifts, slow and casual, slinging an arm over the back of your seat, fingers just brushing your shoulder. warmth trails where his skin almost meets yours. "no fucking way..." he breathes, eyes locked on you, "you like being praised."

the words hang in the air like smoke, thick and stifling.

you freeze. the heat rushes to your face, flooding down your neck, settling in your gut like liquid fire. his tone is cocky — but it lands like a challenge. you can't seem to meet his gaze.

"i do not!" you fire back, weakly, the protest wilting on your tongue even as it leaves your lips. you sound unconvincing — it sounds untrue to your own ears. because it is.

a low, triumphant laugh rumbles in his chest. he leans closer, "that's why you always get all weird when i say that shit — compliment you. i thought you were just shy." his voice dips, an octave above a purr, all too pleased with himself. "but — damn."

you cover your face with your hands, wishing you could melt into your seat to avoid the embarrassment brewing in your chest. "can we please talk about something else?"

but he's watching you too closely now — every twitch, every breath. his expression is unreadable, but the look in his eyes is anything but innocent.

and for a second, he looks like he had decided to drop it. finally.

"hey," he says, after a pause. his voice is quieter now, closer. there's something softer beneath the teasing edge.

"what?" you murmur, reluctantly glancing over at him. your eyes shine — with embarrassment, with frustration, with shame.

"you did good today, baby."

it hits harder than it should. like a punch to the stomach and a hand to the threat. you groan, half a protest, half a plea, and shove at his arm — weakly, pointlessly. his laugh fills the truck, deep and unfiltered, vibrating through the close air.

[keeryhours]

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Ingredients: Smut (18+), fem!reader, one bed trope, first time, handjob, unprotected p in v, creampie

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Masterlist Tag Lists

“I don’t know if I can drive home in this.”

Eddie walked up behind you, peering over your head at the torrential downpour occurring outside. It was raining like crazy, so hard you could barely see right in front of you.

“Shit,” Eddie cursed. “I don’t know how the hell we didn’t hear that-“

“Couldn’t hear over the sound of you shaking in your boots over The Exorcist,” you teased.

“Hey, I was not scared,” Eddie said, looking at you seriously. “I was just…cold.”

“Sure,” you grinned, walking around him and back into the trailer. It was late, Wayne had long ago left for work. You were supposed to be having a movie night with Steve and Robin, but they bailed at the last second, leaving you and Eddie alone.

“I wasn’t scared!” he called back. He shut the front door, locking it, and followed you back into the living room. “So, uh…I guess you’re spending the night here?”

“I guess so,” you agreed. “Because I can’t drive in all that.”

Eddie nodded. “Okay. Uh…”

“What?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Well I don’t, exactly…have somewhere for you to sleep?”

“You have a bed, don’t you?”

“Well yeah, but-“

“But what, you don’t want to share with me?”

Eddie blushed. “No- I mean, I do- wait, fuck-“

You beamed. “Perfect, then. We can just share. I don’t mind.”

Eddie minded. The ache in his jeans certainly minded, the thought of you in his bed only making it worse. What did you sleep in? He pictured you in nothing but your underwear, cuddling up to him for warmth-

You happily bounded into his bedroom, making yourself at home on the bed. It wasn’t the biggest, enough for the two of you but you’d be close. You looked up at Eddie, standing frozen at the bottom of the bed.

Eddie’s mouth went dry at the sight of you laying on his bed. You were leaning back on your elbows, looking up at him with this innocent expression that made his cock twitch. If he wasn’t so scared of ruining the friendship he would just say that - well, not about his cock, but that he found you beautiful. That he wanted to kiss you really, really badly right now.

“I don’t have any clothes with me,” you said. “Do you, uh, have anything I could borrow?”

Eddie snapped out of his thoughts. “Oh, yeah. I have some t-shirts you can use. I have pajama pants, if they’ll fit?”

“I’m good in just a t-shirt,” you smiled. You went to his dresser and opened a drawer, pulling out an old Hellfire shirt. “Perfect!”

Eddie was frozen as you took off to the bathroom with his shirt. You were going to sleep in just the shirt? In his bed? With him? He half expected you to kick him out and make him sleep on the couch, but when you came back dressed in nothing but his oversized shirt and your panties, dropping down into his bed and looking at him expectantly - he realized this was really happening.

Eddie stripped down to his boxers and flipped the light switch, climbing into the bed next to you. He could feel the warmth of your body against his. He’d never been so close to a girl before, and it was setting his body alight, every nerve ending on fire.

He closed his eyes and tried to go to sleep. But then you turned over, eyes closed, and threw your leg over his. Your knee brushed against his cock and despite his best efforts it came stirring to life again, right against your leg.

He tried to adjust you, to move your leg away from his growing problem, but every time he’d try you’d grumble in your sleep and move it back. The brushing against his dick was exacerbating the problem quickly, and he was terrified by the very real possibility that you were going to wake up to find him rock hard right next to you.

He thought of everything to bring his boner down - all kinds of non-sexy thoughts running through his mind. But you were still there, right on top of him, and oh god-

“Eddie?” you said sleepily. “Oh shit, I’m sorry.”

You moved your leg to remove it from his waist, but you hit something hard instead. Eddie involuntarily groaned at the sudden sensation, then quickly covered his face with his hands.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why that’s happening, I just- you’re so-“ Eddie stopped himself before he could put his foot in his mouth any more than it already was.

“I’m just so what?” you asked, a teasing lilt to your voice that almost made him think you were enjoying this.

“Please forget I said anything,” Eddie begged, utterly humiliated. “Seriously, I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.”

“Why would it ruin our friendship?” you asked, running your fingernails up his bare chest. He shivered beneath your touch.

“Because- because you don’t like me back like that?” he said, suddenly unsure with the way you were touching him, maybe even…flirting?

“Says who?”

Eddie swallowed. “I- I don’t know.”

Your hand drifted lower until it was brushing over his erection, and Eddie was in the palm of your hand, literally and figuratively. He groaned, covering his eyes with his arm. “What are you doing t’me?”

“Making you feel good, it looks like,” you said. He could hear the smirk in your voice, and it only made him ache even more. You wrapped your hand around his clothed cock and squeezed it, making him whine.

“You like that?” you whispered. Eddie nodded quickly, don’t stop, please don’t ever stop-

You removed your hand. Eddie uncovered his eyes to look at you, to ask why you’d stopped, when he saw you reach for the waistband of his boxers and pull them down enough to release his cock.

“Hah-“ Eddie breathed a strangled moan as you touched his bare cock for the first time, twitching hard in your hand, like it was begging you to do more. “Fuck-!”

“It’s so pretty,” you mused, watching your hand work him up. He was growing even harder from your touch, his tip flushed red and leaking. Eddie whined again, canting his hips up into your hand. “Use your words, Eddie.”

“Please,” he gasped. “Don’t stop, please, keep going. Feels so good.”

You couldn’t help but smirk when he was begging you like that, so desperate for more of you. “Have you ever done this before?”

“No,” he admitted easily, his mind already gone to the feeling of your hand between his legs. “Never.”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

His eyes popped open. “W-What?”

“Do you want to kiss me?” you asked again, the soft smile on your lips all he could stare at.

“So bad,” he groaned. You leaned in and pressed your lips against his and his hand immediately tangled in your hair, holding your face close to his. He kissed you like he’d seen people kiss in the movies, all tongue and lips and passion. It surprised you, and you found yourself moaning into it, speeding up your hand on his cock.

“Can I have you?” he asked, looking up at you with those big innocent yet hungry eyes. “Please. Need you so bad. I can’t take it anymore.”

“You can have me,” you promised him, sinking back into his kiss. “You can have all of me.”

Eddie’s hand slid up your oversized t-shirt, feeling the soft skin of your sides and stomach, the smooth roundness of your breasts. His thumb brushed over the hardened peak of your nipple, making you let out the most delicious little moan into his mouth. He took the opportunity to lick against your tongue, tasting you.

“Your body is incredible,” Eddie muttered against your lips. “So fucking hot.” His large hands trailed to your back, feeling the skin there before dropping down to grip your ass, hardly covered by your panties at all. It was all too much for Eddie, he was worried he was going to bust right then and there.

“Need you now,” he growled, rolling you over so he was between your legs. His boxers were pushed down just enough to reveal his aching cock, your t-shirt pushed up over your tits. He slipped his hands beneath your panties and pulled them down, tossing them onto his floor.

“I don’t have a condom,” he said just as he lined himself up at your entrance. “Shit.”

“It’s okay,” you assured him. “I still want it.”

His resolve was so weakened by that point, he didn’t care about the potential consequences. He dragged his cock through your folds, feeling your wetness. His tip pressed against your hole, and you drew in a sharp breath.

“S’big,” you mumbled, which just made Eddie’s chest swell with pride.

“Yeah, baby?” He kissed your neck, biting down and sucking hard, leaving a mark. He wanted everyone at school tomorrow to know who had fucked you.

“Yeah,” you said softly, the word turning to a whine as Eddie pushed inside of you. The stretch was more than you imagined, more full than you’d ever felt.

“Oh, christ,” Eddie moaned, feeling his cock fully enveloped by your pussy for the first time. It was like heaven. Eddie had never felt anything so incredible in his life, the perfect, tight heat of your cunt surrounding him sending his mind reeling.

“Eddie,” you whimpered. “Please fuck me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He pulled his hips back, leaving only his tip inside. He rolled his hips into you, sinking all the way back inside, and he moaned like he never wanted to feel anything else for the rest of his life.

Eddie set a comfortable pace, nothing too fast yet because he wanted to enjoy it and not cum in 2 seconds. A nice, steady, slow pace, pressing so deeply into you every time he thrusted in that it felt like you could feel him everywhere.

“Jesus, baby,” he moaned as he fucked you slow and deep, his face buried in your neck. “You’re so tight. I can’t believe how fuckin’ tight you are. I never knew it would feel this fuckin’ good.”

“Want more, Eddie,” you begged. “Please.”

Eddie increased the speed of his hips, the slap slap slapping sound getting louder in the small trailer as he fucked himself into you deeper and faster. His hips were pounding into you at a desperate pace, his old bed creaking, headboard thudding into the wall, leaving chips in the paint.

Liquid heat spread throughout his body, from his core through every limb. His thighs trembled as he neared his orgasm, your pussy tightening around him in a way that had him seeing stars.

“‘m close, Eddie,” you moaned. “Gonna cum all over your cock.”

“Yeah baby, that’s it. Show me. Show me how good my cock makes you feel.”

You guided one of his hands down between your bodies to press against your clit. He got the message quickly, rubbing circles on it, building you higher and higher. You felt yourself climbing, nearly there-

You came around him hard, pussy throbbing around him as you drained his cock for every drop. Your orgasm set his own off, and he was pumping his load into you, your greedy pussy begging him for more, wanting everything he had to give.

Eddie pumped his hips into you until there was nothing left, until you were both too sensitive to do anything more. He pulled out of you and laid on the bed, an arm out for you to cuddle into. You took the invitation, cuddling against his sweaty body.

“You know how you were worried it would change things between us?” you asked quietly, only over the sound of both of your breathing.

“Yeah?” Eddie said. “What about it?”

“Maybe it should change things between us. I don’t know if I want to be your friend anymore.”

Eddie furrowed his brows. “What?”

“Maybe,” you said, “I want to be more.”

“What? Like…you wanna be my girlfriend?”

“Is that what you want?” You felt anxiety for the first time that night, realizing that Eddie might not feel the same. That this might have really been just a casual fuck for him.

“Fuck yeah, that’s what I want,” Eddie said, laughing. “Will you? Be my girlfriend?”

“Yes, Eddie Munson,” you giggled. “I will be your girlfriend.”

tag list

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[nanamisgirly]

pussy slapping with your maths teacherྀི

based on this ask (I hope the anon will like it🙂‍↕️)

you knew the email meant trouble the second it landed in your inbox.

subject : “Homework 6 — Integrity Dicussion.” from : Gojo.Satoru@college.ct

so now you're standing outside his office door, palms sweating, thighs pressed together in your miniskirt like that might save you from the cheating homework you assigned. it's not like you're scared of Gojo. he's just your goofy annoyingly attractive nerd math professor. the man wears Gundam socks with his loafers, makes calculus puns, and has a signed photo of Neil deGrasse Tyson on his bookshelf like it's a family heirloom.

but he also happens to have shoulders like a swimmer, hands big enough to palm a basketball, and a mouth made for sin that he hides behind dump jokes with his stupidly slutty glasses. you're not into him or anything tho, you're just not blind.

your knuckles tap against the door.

“come in,” he calls, voice low. too low actually.

you step in, closing the door behind you. 

the first thing you see are the posters of fractals and famous math equations—not surprising. in the other hand, what is really surprising is the life-size cardboard cutout of the pokémon Blastoise. what the fuck is that?

your surprise doesn't stop there, as your eyes land on the chunky old Casio calculator sitting on his desk next to a mug that says, “i'm a cute professor <3”.

he's seated at his desk, glasses on, sleeves rolled to the elbows showing strong forearms scribbled in veins, one ankle resting over the opposite knee like he's got all the time in the world. a lopsided smile appears as he asks “you're nervous ?”

you scoff, clutching your handbag a little tighter. “i'm not.” he's the one to talk—how would anyone look comfortable in a office looking like this?

“mmh. tell yourself that.” he leans, pulls open a drawer and slides out your homework. he taps the edge the paper as he hold it in the air. “you handed your homework last week. and you scored…a beautiful 97.” he tilts his head, gauging your reaction. 

you're feeling a bit too hot now, sweats trickling down your spine, but you try to hold it together. you feign innocence, “yeah, incredible isn't it?” you say, rolling your eyes to play it cool.

he hums thoughtfully. “sure… if you hadn't cheated.”

you swallow, crossing your arms as you cock a hip “a girl scores high and suddenly some old grump of a man's offended by it. what a world we live in.”

gojo leans back in his chair, gaze sliding over your form—lingering a bit too long on your thighs. “is that how it is?" he hums, eyes flicking up to meet yours "just a bitter old man then?” the corner of his mouth twitches like he's trying not to grin 

he clicks his tongue and leans back further, arms spreading across the armchair like he owns the place. he does, actually. his knees spread too—annoyingly wide, “look, we both know you didn't do these problems yourself. and you're gonna redo it. right here. right now. on me.” 

your lips part. “gojo—”

“professor gojo,” he corrects, tone maddeningly even. “you don't want me to call the Academic Integrity Committee, do you?”

you glance down at his thighs, then back up. “you're a math professor. Not my—”

“—brat tamer?” he cuts in smoothly, raising a brow without blinking.

you go still. your jaw clenches, heat crawling up the back of your neck. he's so smug. smug and patient and infuriatingly unfazed.

you step forward and settle on his lap—hovering, refusing to fully sit. if he thinks you're gonna give in that easily, he's dead wrong. you don't care if your thighs start shaking. you'll squat until the apocalypse if you have to.

“ah—!” a squeal rips out of you when his hands clamp around your hips, big and warm and decidedly firm as he drags you down until you're fully seated, straddling his lap. your miniskirt hikes up dangerously high in the process, your bare thighs pressed tight to his slacks.

his breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so hyper-aware of every single shift in the room.

“problem one,” he says, casually putting your paper on the desk like he isn't now rock-hard beneath you like a complete weirdo. his hands stay planted on your thighs, thumbs stroking idly, but his voice stays cold. unbothered, professional almost.

keyword : almost.

you swallow hard, cheeks burning from the sheer proximity—his firm chest pressed to your back, white fluffy hair brushing every time he leans in. his scent clings to your skin—clean linen, cologne, and chalk dust—it's driving you insane. and those damn impossible formulas staring up at you on the paper—differential equations, matrix exponentials, fucking laplace transforms. couldn't he have picked basic calculus ?

your brain is short-circuiting. and the little laughs of the far-too-good-looking-with-his-glasses-pushed-low-on-his-nose professor is doing nothing to ease your nerves. “solve the matrix for the homogeneous system.” your spine stiffens as his voice is nothing but hot air dragging goosebumps up your neck.

“c'mon, engineer girl. use that big brain of yours.” you let out a shaky exhale, trying to focus on the paper even while his fingers toy with the hem of your panties. he hasn't even really touched you, but you're feeling your panties clinging to you—embarrassingly wet.

“one over s-squared plus four?” you try something, mind too fuzzy to think. your breath catches as his fingertips trace your clothed slit—oh very so slowly. he doesn't bother pressing, just lets the fabric catch and soak even more.

“gojo, what are you—”

“professor,” he reminds you, tone suddenly sharp. “and…” he's turning his head, cheek brushing yours as he watches your teeth dig in your bottom lip “no guessing.” you shudder, thighs trembling on his thick one.

that’s ridiculous how sensitive you were from featherlight touches…you’re better than that..so why are your wetting your thighs by seconds ?

“from now on,” his fingers slip beneath the damp lace, two digits brushing your folds, “you get every problem right, you're so good at pretending to be smart—but be smart.” his hand curls back up—cupping your pussy, applying steady pressure to your aching clit through the underwear. your thighs squeeze together instinctively, the heat unbearable.

you stare at the same problem, chest rising and falling in heavy breath. “a-a inverse time b—?” you offer weakly.

a low, pitying sound escapes him.

smack.

“wrong again.” the sudden sharp slap on your cunt makes your entire body jolts in his lap, your ass pressing harder against his cock. your head drops forward, tears prickling your lashes, hips twitching in a pathetic attempt at friction.

it"s so humiliating. that nerd of a teacher. fuck.

“uh-huh, don't move, sweetie. who told you you get to grind on my thigh?” he grabs your jaw with his free hand, forcing you to meet his glacier-blue eyes glinting behind crooked glasses. “let's try again. if f(t) = sin(3t), then what's the Laplace transform?” his breath ghosts over your cheek, one hand directing your gaze to the paper like you aren't already losing your mind.

your mind scrambles, your pussy pulses, and you're cursing the world for putting you in this situation. you can't even help it, it just feels so good. 

your voice breaks on a moan, nothing reflecting your angry mind “three… over…squared plus n-nine—”

gojo groans softly, cock twitching under your ass. “there she is,” he mutters, hand sliding down to rub rough circles against your clit. “smart and fuckable? you might be my new favorite little project sweetie.”

and just as a whimper leaves your lips—the second your hips barely roll forward in a desperate grind—he yanks his hand away.

“what did i say?” he asks, calmly adjusting his glasses like he's not the filthiest thing on earth right now. “no grinding. one right answer doesn't mean you get to cum. you've got four more questions, we're far from done.”

he lands another slap on your clit—scarily precise. “i get to edge you again. and again. until your poor little cunt forgets what cumming even feels like.” you sob his name as he pulls your underwear taut between your fat lips, the soaked lace dragging cruelly against your swollen clit. you shove your fist into your mouth, biting it to stay quiet.

he dips his fingers back into the ruined mess between your legs. not inside—never inside apparently. he's probably a psychopathe who loves skimming his student's pussy entrance, circling it like a threat.

 “if you get all the five right tho," he murmurs darkly, "i'll bend you over this desk and fuck you, raw, with your nose pressed onto that test," your walls clench hard at his words—and he feels it, obviously…

smirking into your hair, he adds, “you'd love that, of course you would. so go on, sweetie. show me you're not just a brainless little brat. show me how much of a perfect slut you are for good grades.”

you swear once you'll get all your mind together, you're gonna make him regret everything. that cocky, small-dick bastard—acting like he's got a big game between his thighs. 

a nerd like him, isn't packing enough to pleasure you. right?

^⌯𖥦⌯^

a/n aaaand we thanks my bachelor in engineer for my knowledge ☝🏼 tho i hope you enjoyed reading this, i don’t think it’s perfect buuut i tried :))) let me know 🫶🏻

[tan1shere]

Fuck Me Now

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: I JUST HAD AN URGE 😈

Summary: you were growing bored as she games.

Warnings: smut, gamer billie, cockwarming, super short sorry my loves !

Tags: @trulyy-yourzz @eilishslut @chrissv4mp @n0vabug @dollyvuu @dollarbils @sweetcherriexs @bilsdillldough @mystiquemm

2:35 am.

Thats what the clock said as you turn over in the warm bed. You go to turn back over noticing she still wasn't there. She had been gaming for hours. "Bills." You faintly call out, voice groggy from having just woken up. "Hmm? Did I wake you?" She asks, gaze fixated on the bright screen infrong of her. You let out a groany whine. The red light dim, the only source in the dark room. Truth be told you had wanted her all day. In an innocent and not so innocent way. "Babyy." You drag out. "Come to bed, pleasee." She took a second to respond. "Won't be long my love." You huff to yourself, getting up and going over to her. "You've been playing all day bub." She never takes her eyes off of it. This just makes your need grow.

Her hands filled with rings. Veins popping especially as she holds the mouse, clicking every so often. The metal of her rings clashing with the mouse too. Your eyes dart to the way she was sitting. Slouched in her gaming chair. A red velvet blanket draped over her lap. She brings her other hand up to her face, touching her lips slightly. You were drawn to everything. It's no surprise you were ovulating after all. Which you were going to talk to her about tonight, but that didn't happen. You move into her sight more. "Miss you." Your lips pouty. Tired even if you had gotten heaps of sleep. Her eyes finally meet yours.

"Aww baby." It sounded a little fake but also not. "You miss me huh?" You nod as she asks that. An idea popping into her mind. "Why don't you have a seat then." You look at her as she moves the blanket, your eyes meet the one thing you were craving. When did she put it on. Had she planned this the whole day. Was she that evil enough to tease you for hours on end. By not touching you or giving you any attention. You look at her, instantly letting your shorts and underwear drop. Her big t-shirts covering your body. You position yourself over her lap, feeling her move the strap closer to you. Closer to where you needed it. "Mm please." You breathe near her ear.

"Shh, sh sh." She then quietly says. Moving it a bit deeper inside you. "Sit." She softly orders. You gladly obey, letting it fill you up. "Good girl." You gasp into her neck at feeling it fully in you, beginning to move your hips. Having felt neglected all day. "Uh uh uh." She stills your hips. "Just keep me warm yeah angel?" You bite your lip. She can't be teasing you more. There was no way. You whine into the crook of her neck. "Be good baby, know you can." Her hands return to her previous events. Clicking and more clicking. You go to sit up blocking her view. "Baby." She warns. Her voice was sexy, lust dripping from the simple name. "Come on now." Your eyes turn pleading. "Please Bills. I need you so bad, so so bad." She stares at you for a second. Your breathy voice going straight through her.

Her eyes rake over your features, your body covered by her shirt. You drove her just as crazy. "You make it hard for me babygirl." You grab her face. "Fuck me now, please. I've been needy for you all day, need to feel you deep. Fucking me, slow but forcefully. I need it more than anything." You blab, the neediness seeping out of you. She noticed it. That fire in your eyes, she knows your ovulating. Does she keep the teasing going. Or give you what you so desperately crave. It was tempting but your next move sends her crazy. Your body leans forward, going to her ear again as you move just slightly on the strap. Her eyebrows lift then knit together when she suddenly hears you moan.

"Please mommy." Now shes the feral one. She picks you up, getting you to wrap your legs around her waist as she plops you on the bed. She wasted zero time into moving inside you. She all of a sudden needed this just as much. "God you drive me mental, that fucking voice. Your moans." You gasp again as she comes down to kiss you. Swallowing the escaping moan. Savoring it. Her thrusts are slow just like you asked. But her power was firm, thrusting just perfectly. She knew exactly what she was doing and it just turned you on more. The fact she knows your body better than you might do. "Pretty girl missed me today didn't she?" You frantically nod. "Yes!" Your voice was still breathy, trying to catch it as she keeps going.

Your mind spins, runs slow as her thrusts speed up just a bit. "D-deeper please." You stutter out. And your wish is her command. Granting it by fucking you more, sliding it in further. Your eyes roll back as she hits just the right spots. "Fuck! Billie oh my god-" You managed to get out. Moans spilling from your bitten lips. "Go on, you deserve it sweetheart. More than anything." And just like that you did. Making a mess of the dildo attached to her. Safe to say you would truly be sleeping like an angel tonight.

[soangelbaby]

˗ˏˋ now introducing . . . incel!rafe ˎˊ˗

daddy’s money superiority complex a full time red-flag

he’s not just heartbroken he’s hateful he’s misogynistic .ᐟ

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . watches porn religiously. claiming he hates it, claiming all the girls in them are ‘fake whores’ and ‘that’s what they deserve’ — and it never fully satisfies him. but still he does it again. and again. and again. it’s his twisted therapy. and he never finishes to the regular stuff — only to scenarios where the girl is being degraded, begging, crying. he searches for girls who look like you, a little too pretty and too soft, getting the worse shit done to them. sick nasty videos that would get him put on a list, like ‘girl crying during sex’ ‘forced orgasm compilations’ or ‘blackmail porn’ he knows it’s wrong, but it’s never enough to stop.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . has an obsession with purity. it’s dark and dangerous, he sees women who experience any type of sexual freedom as ‘threats’ if they dont fit into his narrow view of what a woman should be. he’s disgusted by them for not catering to his desires or for having autonomy over their own bodies. he wants women who are innocent, untouched, and under his control — his way of proving he’s the one in charge. but the hypocrisy is glaring. while he condemns women for their sexuality, he’s consumed by fantasies of dominating, ruining, breaking them down, and making them submit to his twisted will.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . has no sympathy for women. when he “loves” a woman, he might tell her that no one else will ever love her like he does—playing the long-suffering martyr, claiming that he’s the only one who truly understands her. but the love he offers is never pure. he’ll constantly tear her down, calling her worthless, stupid, or fat, all while claiming it’s for her own good. if she gets upset, he’ll accuse her of being “too sensitive” or “overreacting,” further alienating her. if a woman cries, gets upset, or expresses hurt, he finds it pathetic. he might mock her, call her weak, and tell her she’s just “looking for attention” when she’s truly in distress. his inability to comprehend or care about a woman’s emotional well-being only deepens his hatred for them.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . uses sex as power. he doesn’t believe in mutual consent, he believes in ownership and if he wants something he takes it. he might try to guilt or manipulate a woman into sex, telling her that if she “really loved him,” she’d give in. if she says no, he twists it into a game of control, making her feel like she’s the one in the wrong for denying him. his need to dominate extends to every interaction, including sex, where he treats it like a conquest, not an intimate exchange.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . has a fragile ego. when a woman shows she doesn’t need him, it triggers something deep inside him. he can’t stand it. he feels entitled to every woman’s attention, and when that attention isn’t directed at him, it makes him feel worthless. he’ll hide it behind a mask of false confidence, but internally, he’s seething. it’s like a personal affront to his existence, and he can’t stand it. instead, he’ll find ways to undermine her; thorough force, threats, or sabotage, even make her doubt herself, or try to control her until she becomes dependent on him.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . craves humiliation. there’s a deeply destructive side to him, when he’s alone — he watches porn that makes him feel sick and helpless. it’s the only time he can let go of his need for control and let the chaos wash over him. but it’s also a form of self-punishment. he knows he’s toxic, and part of him wants to be punished for it. he’s caught between wanting to control and wanting to be controlled, and he’s too deep in the spiral to break free.

⌨︎ incel!rafe who . . . knows he’s a monster. part of him, the deepest part, has moments of clarity. when the high from his toxic behavior fades, he’s left with the aftermath—his reflection staring back at him, judging him. there are flashes of guilt, self-awareness, where he recognizes that what he’s doing is wrong. but instead of taking responsibility, he doubles down, justifying his actions, telling himself he can’t help it. he’s too far gone to fix himself, and that thought terrifies him.

[neowonderland]

Sweet || l.jn

Summary: Jeno promises he'll use "just the tip" Pairings: Lee Jeno x Reader Warnings: 18+, smut, dubcon, manipulation Wc: ~1.0k

Dark Content, Minors please DNI

Disclaimer: this is a work of pure fiction. I do not condone the actions of any characters in this story and the actions do not reflect the idols in any way.

You’re so sweet, like sugar melting on Jeno’s tongue. Your honeyed tongue and voice melting away all Jeno’s defenses, overwhelming his thoughts with the sweet thoughts of you. You’re so innocent, too, with wide eyes gazing up at him in admiration whenever he talks. Your sweet voice is like honey, always there by his side to congratulate and praise him. 

It’s addictive, like the gummy candies Jeno’s so fond of, and Jeno just can’t get enough of you. He wants you for himself, to taste your sticky sweetness, to corrupt you so you drown in only thoughts of him. 

But it’s apparent that you don’t feel the same way, only viewing him as a brother. Your affectionate gaze and kind words were followed by calling him adorable, by calling him the younger brother you never had. Jeno knows you mean well, but uncomfortable, even patronizing, for Jeno, who wants something much more from your friendship. 

So Jeno comes up with a plan. You’re always so eager to help him right? You’re always weak to his pleading gaze and his pouting lips, never being able to say no when he asks something of you. 

“Just the tip, please?” Jeno pleaded with you, eyes gazing up at you as you two sat on his shared bed. “I promise it’ll just be the tip. I’ll be gentle. I’ve just been so stressed with my schedule recently.” 

You let out a sigh, shifting uncomfortably. Shaking your head and trying to change the conversation. 

But Jeno doesn’t relent, begging and begging for him to fuck you, promising that it’ll just be the tip, saying that it’s for stress relief, that he hasn’t had the time to blow off some steam. 

And so you relent, lying down and opening your legs to let Jeno sit between them. 

Jeno tries to be gentle when he works you open, sticky lube dripping down his fingers and mixing with your essence. But it’s difficult when you look so cute trying to muffle your moans, biting your lip as Jeno continues to pleasure you, your hands clawing at the sheets trying to ground yourself from the pleasure. You look so cute with your cheeks flushed, and hair splayed out, shirt riding up to expose your chest. And fuck– you feel so nice around his fingers, so warm and tight. Jeno can’t stop imagining how amazing you’ll feel wrapped tightly around his cock. 

It’s not long until Jeno becomes impatient, opting to keep his shirt on and only take off his bottoms. Jeno can tell you’re scared by the way you look at his length, eyes zeroed in on his hefty girth and length. It’s red throbbing and veiny, angry from being neglected while Jeno pleasured you. Jeno sees you bite the inside of your cheek in worry.

“Just the tip, right Jeno? You promised,” You ask, your voice shaky. 

“Just the tip, I promise,” Jeno answers, pushing in the head of his length without warning.

You let out a yelp as Jeno pops in. The stretch burns, even with the prep Jeno had previously given you. It feels like no amount of prep would have prepared you for taking Jeno’s length. 

The pain melts into pleasure as you begin to adjust to Jeno, pussy dripping around him, creating squelching as Jeno tries his best to control himself. Your eyes close as you begin to lose yourself in the pleasure. Jeno’s skillful, trying to make you feel as much pleasure as possible and minimize your discomfort. 

Jeno lets out a groan. You feel much better and sweeter stretched around him than imagined, your fluttering hole struggling to take his tip.  He thrusts in and out shallowly, eyes focused on where you two are connected, obsessed with how you seem to want to push him out and take him at the same time. You feel amazing around him, your warmth sucking him in, as if begging for him to give you everything. 

“You can take more, right?” Jeno pants, speeding up his thrusts and feeding you more and more of his length. 

You squirm and try to move away from him, discomfort spreading throughout your body. You let out a whine and shake your head trying to show that you don’t want him to go any further.

“Too much Jeno, you’re too big!” You whine, placing your hand on his pelvis in an attempt to stop him from thrusting into you. But it’s futile, as Jeno’s much stronger than you. 

You don’t even realize you’re crying until hot tears drip down your cheeks and you let out a choked sob. Jeno’s thrusting roughly and harshly now, bashing his tip against your cervix almost as if he was trying to force it open and fuck your womb. It hurts more than it’s pleasurable, and you want more than anything else in the world for it to end. Jeno shushes you, running his thumb across your cheek to wipe away your tears, shushing you and your cries. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry– You just feel so good I can’t help myself. You were so warm and wet. Your insides were just begging for more, I’m sorry I couldn’t help myself. I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m sorry–” Jeno rambles, trailing off into mumbles. Your hand moves back from his pelvis, opting to make a fist with your hand and dig your nails into the palms of your hands.

You let out a sniffle as Jeno does a particularly hard thrust, kissing your cervix and releasing hot warm, sticky cum into you. It fills you up to the brim, some cum leaking out from the where you two are attached, forming a creamy white ring around the base. 

Jeno pulls back, admiring your wrecked body, your hair messy, your hole spent with his cum leaking out of it. And Jeno realizes he thinks you’re the sweetest when you let him use you like this. 

[georgies-ftts]

My absolute favourite trope in Merlin fanfic is when they all find out about Merlin’s magic and Arthur is brooding or feigning annoyance but truly doesn’t care, Elyan and Gwaine are asking so many questions because they’re so intrigued and need to know absolutely everything and somehow aren’t surprised in the slightest, Leon is weary but slowly indulges in the conversation, eyeing Arthur every so often because he’s nervous to display such behaviours about magic in front of his King but he still knows Arthur would never touch Merlin even if he was afraid and Percival is just so confused because he thought everyone already knew and just refused to speak about it

Merlin: It’s not that big of a deal. we don’t have to speak about it.

Elyan: Oh, no we absolutely do!

Gwaine: Yeah, c’mon Merlin, show us something cool, like money falling from the sky, or a pint in my hand, right now, come on.

Elyan: Can you really do that?

Merlin: *Sarcastically* If it’ll get Gwaine to shut up.

Arthur: Oh, so you can pour Gwaine a pint in the middle of the woods but you can’t clean my chambers?

It goes silent for a few moments, Merlin wonders if now is the right time for a joke but Arthur’s brow is furrowed and through the light of the fire he can see the firm press of lips on his face, he decides now is not the time. Gwaine rolls his eyes from across the flame before them.

Gwaine: He’s just saved all our arses, can you be grateful for two minutes?

Leon: Gwaine-

Merlin: He has every right to be upset-

Arthur: Do not address me as if i’m not even here, you owe me that at least.

There’s a tense silence as Merlin’s hand stills where it pokes at the fire with a stick, Leon eyes the King cautiously and Percival fiddles, wide eyed, with the frayed edges of his tunic. Merlin sighs and focuses again on the fire, it’s the only heat he can find.

Gwaine: What kind of things can you do?

Merlin is hesitant to answer but Elyan looks at him expectantly and even Leon has turned his attention to him now, seemingly awaiting either an answer from the servant or an order from his King.

Merlin: I- I can do small things like move stuff around, tell a broom to sweep or a rag to clean.

He thinks that’s enough but by the excited look in Gwaine and Elyan’s eyes it isn’t.

Merlin: I can light fires, fell trees, sense a nearby threat, anything… really.

Gwaine: That’s so cool

Arthur: So you could’ve been useful this entire time and you chose not to be.

There’s another lull as Arthur picks apart leaves and tosses them into the fire but as Leon speaks up even Arthur turns his gaze.

Leon: How long have you been able to do all this?

It’s hardly an innocent question but Leon’s tone is honest and Merlin cannot feel cornered by his words.

Merlin: Since birth.

Arthur: Lies.

Elyan: Is that possible?

Gwaine: What?

Leon: Is that all you can do? Move things? Will them to your command?

Now that question is loaded even if Leon means no ill will. Merlin swallows, he nods.

Merlin: Yes

Leon: What else can you command?

Merlin: The seas

Arthur: A mermaid are you, now?

Merlin: The trees and the ground.

Arthur: A nymph perhaps?

Merlin: The skies

Arthur: Now you’re just being absurd-

Merlin: Lighting.

Merlin cuts in quickly. He was never proud of it, bringing the bolt down so harshly and eradicating the sorceress to nothing but a pile of smouldering ash but Arthur will find out one way or another. Banishment or pyre he will make sure Arthur hears of his crimes before he goes.

Merlin: Nimue. I killed her. A bolt straight through her body. There was nothing left.

The group maintains their silence for a few moments and Arthur finally turns to look at Merlin for the first time since they’d stopped to make camp

Arthur: Prove it.

Merlin: Sire-

Arthur: Don’t call me that and prove it.

Merlin: Why? Hoping i’ll mess it all up and strike myself down? Save you the trouble of building the pyre?

Arthur: If I wanted you dead you wouldn’t be speaking so stop moping, get off your arse and prove. It.

Merlin doesn’t need to get up because the second Arthur stops talking Merlin’s eyes are sparking gold and the sky erupts in a violent flash of colour. tendrils of brilliant white crack the darkness apart, coating the forest in a momentary burst of day before the light fades and in its wake leaves behind the fading outline of the Pendragon crest in the forks of dying white.

The group remains still, staring upwards at the now pitch black sky before Elyan is laughing out loud and Gwaine is excitedly smacking Leon beside him.

Gwaine: Oh my god, we could do so much. We could strike Lord Harold down and he wouldn’t even know what hit him-

Arthur: shut up, Gwaine

Arthur is still staring at the sky and Leon speaks from beside him.

Leon: Forgive me for asking, ignore me next time

The Knight is almost blushing in his place and Merlin manages a small huff of laughter at that before he resumes poking at the fire but his moment of silence is inturpeted

Arthur: Sir Percival, you’ve been unusually quiet. Please, what are your opinions on all of this.

Arthur seems pissed off, but not in an angry way, more of an i’ve been outvoted and i’m not happy about it way. Percival shrugs, picking away at the skin of nails like he has no idea what this conversation could possibly be about.

Arthur: Percival?

Percy: Mhh hmm.

Arthur raises an eyebrow. Percival stares back at him.

Percy: Yes, Sire?

Arthur: Don’t play dumb with me.

Percy: I don’t know what you mean, sire.

There’s a moment , a beat, barely a second.

Gwaine: You knew?!?!!!?!???!?

Elyan: You sly bastard!

Leon: oh lord-

Percy: I didn’t, I swear-

Arthur: Percival-

Merlin: How-

Percy: I THOUGHT WE ALL KNEW-

Gwaine: WHY WOULD YOU THINK THAT-

Elyan: HOW WOULD WE HAVE KNOWN-

Leon: Kill me.

Percy: IT WAS SO OBVIOUS-

Merlin: HANG ON-

GWAINE: WHY WOULD’NT YOU TELL ME?

Elyan: Gwen’s going to be so pissed off she missed this

Gwaine: I THOUGHT WE WE’RE FRIENDS-

Merlin: HOW WAS IT OBVIOUS-

Percy: WE ARE, I JUST THOUGHT WE WEREN’T ALLOWED TO TALK ABOUT IT

Leon: please lord,

ELYAN: WHY WOULD’NT WE BE ALLOWED TO- Oh, no, wait, yeah got it, continue.

Percy: I THOUGHT YOU WERE ALL AWARE AND JUST NEVER MENTIONED IT CAUSE IT WAS SUCH A CASUAL THING THATS WHY I WOULD ALWAYS GIVE YOU A CLAP ON THE BACK AFTER AN AMBUSH OR-

Merlin: I THOUGH IT WAS CAUSE I DIDN’T DIE

Leon: Finish me off

Percy: YEAH, CAUSE YOU SAVED US. WITH MAGIC

Leon: I beg of you

ELyan: Holy shit-

Gwaine: Have we really been that blind?

Percival shrugs and Merlin still looks at him like he’s just betrayed his entire blood line.

Leon: Please, it would be the kind thing to do

Elyan: What?

Leon: What?

Gwaine: Did you tell him?

Merlin: Why would i tell him?

Percy: ouch.

Arthur: Percival.

Everyone pauses, Leon stops praying to a deity he does not believe in and Merlin stops looking so offended but Gwaine and Elyan still hold that child like wonder in their eyes.

Arthur: I’m not entirely sure what to threaten you with right now but I will think of something and trust me you’re going to wish you were never born.

Gwaine: Fair do’s, that

Percy: So Merlin gets away scot free but not me?

Merlin: OI-

Arthur: Oh, i’m not even started with you.

Gwaine: Oh, c’mon princess, don’t act like you didn’t have even the slightest hunch.

Arthur’s head spins at a pace that’s frankly alarming to look over at Gwaine. He narrow his eyes like he was lining up his next arrow for loosening. There’s another beat before Gwaine’s eyes widen

Gwaine: OH MY GOD YOU DID-

Then Arthur is launching forward, over the fire and it takes the four others an hour to get Arthur to release the impossible grip he has on Gwaine’s hair and another two to get Gwaine to apologise for the black eye now blooming on the King’s face.

[revelboo]

Gripping my knees, sweating bullets for that Drift update. Im about to seduce the hell out of that self hating bot and his grumpy medic boyfriend too!

🤣 get ‘em

The Samurai Code Pt 9

Drift x Reader

• Arching as memories and thoughts not your own swamp you, sink into you, there’s a question hanging there in the chaos between you two. And he’s light and warmth, reassuring as he reaches for you. Realizing what he’s done, despite you telling him not to, you’re arrowing away from him. Driving deeper into the connection as you’re bombarded with shards of him. Memories of a long life, the things he’s done. The mistakes, the cruelty hurting you so deeply as his sorrow and regret sinks into you. His self loathing.

• Is a partial bond enough? Doesn’t know, but you won’t submit to him, won’t come to him. You’re bright as a star streaking through him, seeing everything and you’ll despise him after. Knows it and deserves nothing else. And Ratchet’s servos are on his arm, pulling at him. Forcing him to break the connection when he wants to see more of your memories. Live your life through your eyes, because you’re nothing like him. You’re good. Innocent and he’s tainting you with his past.

• Swearing softly, Ratchet growls as he finally pulls Drift’s hand away, separating you from the bot’s spark. And you’re shaking in his palm, curling into yourself as Drift’s own hands tremble faintly. Wants to ask if it’s a full bond, but knows it’s none of his business. This is between you and Drift. Something intimate and so wrong because Drift had taken something you’d already told him he couldn’t have.

• Pushing upright, hair hanging in your face as your hands curl into fists against his palm, you can’t look at him. So angry at him. “Did it work?” Drift asks, voice so tired and resigned. He knows. Knows you saw who he’d been. The truth of him, the past he’s trying to make up for. And there’s no pain, that realization sinking into you as your breath hitches. The exhaustion and disjointed feeling still there, but diminished.

• “I told you no,” you say, head lifting and when he reaches for you to brush your hair from your face, you smack his servo hard. “Why did you do that? He told you it might kill you,” you snap, voice rising. Angrier than he’s ever seen you. And he’s smiling, because that fury? You’re better. You have to be, because you’re more animated than he’s ever seen you. “Stop smiling, this isn’t funny!” Hears Ratchet muttering as he presses his servos to his helm, disgusted with him.

Previous

[vicolette]

Five Minutes !

– A/N : sighh school started☹️

– Warnings : English isn’t my first language, mentions of y/n & pet names, mentions of obsession, jealousy, slightlyyyy suggestive, child neglect(?)

"You don’t have to go, my love…"

You turned around to face your boyfriend, who was laying on his bed after a long and exhausting day. It has been hours since you have first arrived at his place and your parents must be worried sick about you, so you have sent them a message that you'd arrive.

However, you knew that it was all a lie. Your parents were never home and didn’t even know that you have left the place, so you could just stay. Stay, where you were loved and adored.

"Pau, my parents are waiting." As you sugarcoated the actual situation, completely leaving out the fact that nobody was even at home to begin with, Pau only opened an eye to see where you stood.

A scowl grew on his face as he reluctantly sat up, which made you think that he would just hug you one last time and that would have been the end of it. So, as you watched him stand up from his position and tower over you, his arms open for you, it didn’t take you long to rush into his arms.

The hug was none that you haven’t experienced from him, as it was full of affection and love. Nonetheless, you couldn’t help but feel odd about it, as if it was slightly different from the ones he would usually give you.

"We haven’t seen each other in so long though…" His voice was quiet, almost inaudible, as though he had just woken up from a deep slumber. Soon enough, you left his fingertips reach for the hem of your shirt, loosening it up as he lowered his head. "… can’t you stay for five more minutes?"

You sighed in defeat, feeling moved by his words, yet you knew that he would probably take longer than just five more minutes. Even so, you pulled away from him just to see his face, a small smile gracing your lips. "Alright, you big baby."

And that was all, that Pau needed.

Somehow, somewhat, you felt his nails dig into your skin as he kissed your shoulder, lining up kisses towards your neck and onto the other side. You'd be lying if you didn’t say you felt good like this, like he was merely focused on you.

Pau was a silly boy, your silly boy, but even his actions could surprise you. It should have been second nature to you – to be shocked by how he tackles his opponents while having the most innocent looking face, to make sure that he wouldn’t get hurt by the others – and yet still, you had thought that he had shown his true colors towards you.

"Y/n, have I ever told you how I loved this top?" He randomly had said, as if your whole body wasn’t shaking because of the intensity in his actions. Green eyes met yours and your knees felt weak at that, which gave him the opportunity to sit back down and enjoy seeing you like this, to enjoy you.

"But I think you look better without it."

Your heart dropped just like your head as you straddled his lap, hands on his shoulders as you passionately kissed him back with your eyes closed. Meanwhile, Pau had stolen your phone to text your mother, just to see that she had left you on delivered, since you haven’t sent a message to begin with.

This made him narrow his eyes as he placed it on the nightstand nearby and shrugged his shoulders, dismissing his confusion when he felt your fingers in his hair. Once you had lightly pushed him away to get some air, he whined at the loss of your lips and leaned in closer.

The teenager laid down on the bed with you on top of him, your chests against one another as you tried to catch your breath. Pau didn’t have any troubles since he was used to running out of air and already had great stamina, so he just waited.

However, when he felt you pull away from him, pull away from his love, just to return in a place of emptiness and pity, he groaned in frustration. When would you realize that he had you trapped in his arms, where you actually could feel secured without being judged?

For a second, the room was completely silent as you stared down at him with wide eyes, whereas his were tired and on the verge of closing and falling asleep. Pau threw his head back, feeling obsessed with the way you were looking at him, even if it made him jealous how your family had your attention instead of he.

You parted your lips to speak up, yet it took you an incredible amount of courage to voice your worries out, feeling his nails dig into your skin to leave something of his behind for you to take.

"Pau, my love, I need to go."

"Five more minutes, please."

– A/N : I have homework 💔

[rizztaep]

Sweat & Surrender | Jungkook 18+ Oneshot | Smut Series #2

Sypnosis: It started with a look across the gym floor and ended with his you on top of him,under the shower, yoga ball , both riding the waves of pleasure. Jungkook wasn’t just your workout partner—he was the tension in every stretch, the fire in every touch. Lust tangled in after-hours heat, discovering just how far you're both willing to go before morning light cools the burn.

Genre: Steamy Romance | Erotica | Roommate-to-Lover | Gym AU | NSFW

pairing: gym partner!domjk x y/n (you)

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, shower s*x, unprotected s*x, lots of positions on gym equipments (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content), passionate , lot's of smut, bl*wj*b, ma*t*rb*ti*n , sauna s*x, fluff in the end .

Jungkook had been a regular at your gym long before you ever stepped foot inside, but once you did—he noticed. How could he not? You carried power in the way you moved, confidence in the way your leggings clung to every curve, your sports bra showing just enough to make his focus waver with every push-up you dropped into.

You weren’t just some gym bunny. You were temptation with a protein shake.

You noticed him too.

He was impossible not to. Sleeves hugging thick biceps, jaw clenched in concentration, veins peeking out whenever he curled a barbell. Tattoos flexing with every rep. His hair damp with sweat, his tank top sometimes tucked up to wipe his face—revealing hard, lean abs and that stupid V-line that made your brain stop working.

Every time you passed each other in the gym’s mirrored hallway, the air changed. He caught you looking. You caught him smirking. It was a silent game. Until today.

It started with an innocent challenge. “You gonna keep staring or you wanna actually work out?” Jungkook asked, wiping his brow.

You didn’t blink. “Only if you can keep up.”

So you trained together.

But your idea of “training” quickly turned into teasing. You bent lower than necessary during stretches. Pushed your chest up during push-ups. You watched his muscles strain with every lift, sweat dripping down the side of his neck.

Then came the push-ups. You dropped onto the mat in front of him. Close. Too close. Your body lowered—bringing your chest inches from his face. He swallowed hard, trying not to stare, but your — swayed right in front of him. Barely caged by your sports bra.

You smirked. “Eyes on the mat, Jungkook.”

He growled under his breath. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You dropped again, slowly, chest brushing air right above his mouth.

That’s when it happened—he felt it. Pressure against his pants. Something twitching, hardening. His control snapped.

He grabbed your wrist mid-push-up, yanked you toward him until you straddled his lap.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” he rasped. His hands gripped your waist tightly. “You’ve been fcking me with your eyes all week.”

You shifted your hips—felt exactly what was straining under you. “What if I have?”

He growled again, flipping you onto the mat with a thud. His body hovered over yours. His lips hovered inches from your own. He was breathing hard ,lust & desire darkening his eyes.

“Screw it,” he whispered.

And then his mouth was on yours.

Hot. Wet. Wild.

Tongues tangling, teeth scraping, lips bruising. His hands roamed your sides, slipping under your top to feel hot, damp skin. You arched under him when his palm found your buds, teasing through the thin fabric of your bra. He groaned into your mouth when he felt how hard your nipples were for him.

Your hands tugged his tank top off. Your eyes devoured the body beneath. He was sculpted sin. You pushed him back, and he let you—watching you as you dragged your hands down his torso, licking a slow trail along his abs.

You knelt between his legs, tugging his waistband down. His breath caught as your hands and mouth found his cock. He hissed, fingers tangling in your hair as you licked a slow stripe along his length, then took him deeper, inch by inch.

“Fu-,” he whispered. “You’re… unreal.”

You bobbed slowly, teasing, letting your tongue swirl, moaning softly around him. He twitched in your mouth, hips bucking, groans deep and needy.

When he couldn’t take it anymore, he lifted you with ease, laying you on the mat and stripping your leggings off in one swift move. He kissed your navel, trailed down to your core, then licked a deep, slow path along your folds, drawing out a desperate moan.

He spread your legs. His tongue flicked your clit, then pressed firm. His fingers joined in, pumping slow and deep, curling right against your g-spot. You whimpered, hands gripping his hair, body writhing beneath his mouth.

You reached your peak fast—too fast—legs trembling as you cried out, thighs closing around his head.

But he didn’t stop.

“Again,” he growled, voice rough. “You taste too good to stop now.”

He drove you over the edge again, and again, until you were dripping, shaking, begging.

Then he slid into you.

Slow.

Deep.

Both of you moaned.

Jungkook rocked into you, hips rolling hard. He grabbed your thighs, pulled them higher, hitting deeper. Your nails raked down his back. He leaned down, lips at your ear.

“You feel so warm,” he whispered. “So — tight.”

Each thrust was harder. Faster. His abs flexed with effort. Sweat dripped from his forehead onto your chest. His name fell from your lips in broken gasps.

“Gonna come for me?” he asked.

You nodded, body tensing.

He slammed deeper. “Then do it. Right now. I wanna feel you lose it on me.”

You shattered. Moaning his name. Back arched. He groaned loud and c*m inside you, holding you tight, hips stilling with a deep thrust as you both collapsed into oblivion.

Your bodies tangled on the yoga mat, both breathless, slick with sweat, chests heaving.

He kissed your collarbone lazily. “You know, I came here to get shredded, not fcked in the middle of the gym.”

You laughed, curling into his side. “Guess we both got a good workout.”

He pulled a towel over your bare bodies, fingers stroking your thigh. “Round two in the shower?”

You grinned. “Lead the way, Jungkook.”

Jungkook didn’t even give you time to fully catch your breath. One second you were curled against him, the next he was scooping you into his arms—mat abandoned, gym bag forgotten.

The locker room was empty, just as you’d hoped.

He slammed the door behind you and set you down on the cool tile floor, pushing you backward toward the showers, eyes locked on yours like you were the only thing in existence.

The water turned on—hot, heavy. Steam began to rise.

You stood beneath the downpour, chest rising, nipples hardening from the heat. Your body still humming from the last round.

Jungkook stepped in behind you, hands ghosting along your hips, then down. “You’re not done,” he growled. “Not even close.”

Water cascaded down both your bodies. His chest pressed against your back as his fingers slid between your folds again, already finding you wet and aching.

You let out a moan that echoed in the tile chamber.

He bit down gently on your shoulder. “You’re still dripping from earlier. Didn’t know my gym girl could get this wet.”

You reached behind, grabbed his ass, gave him a squeeze that made him groan low. You felt him harden against your thighs—fast, full, throbbing.

Without warning, he turned you to face him, water splashing between your chests, and lifted you by the thighs.

You wrapped your legs around him.

Then he slid into you again—hot, thick, deep.

Your back hit the shower wall with a wet slap. He pinned you there, water pouring down over his shoulders as he moved his d*ck slow at first, then rougher, faster.

The plethora of emotions that rushed in, had you screaming for more.

His lips latched to your neck. “Say my name,” he murmured. “Say who fcks you like this.”

“Jungkook,” you whimpered. “Don’t stop.”

He didn’t.

Your bodies slapped together, water beading off muscle and skin. His hips met yours in sharp thrusts, and your nails raked down his back, desperate, needy.

You clenched around him—tight—and he nearly lost it right there.

“Again?” he asked through clenched teeth.

You nodded. “Right there, please—”

He adjusted his angle, and hit your g-spot with every pump.

Your moans turned high-pitched, his name tumbling from your lips. You could feel the pressure build again, tighter, higher—

He leaned in, forehead pressed to yours, breath mingling with yours under the downpour.

“Come with me,” he whispered, voice rough and full of hunger. “Now.”

And you did—together.

You cried out, body trembling in his arms. He held you through it, groaning into your shoulder as he released inside you again, hips slowing, waves of pleasure washing over you both.

He slid down to the floor, still inside you, pulling you onto his lap. You sat there, tangled in each other, water washing away the evidence but not the ache.

You kissed his temple. “Best workout of my life.”

He smirked, biting his bottom lip. “You should see what I can do with resistance bands…”

You gasped. “Jungkook.”

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear. “Next time, we try the yoga ball.”

"What are you waiting for then?" you moaned, hiding your blushed cheeks while biting your lower lip..

Jungkook released a low growl.

He didn’t wait.

His patience can't at this point.

You barely stepped into the private training room before he had you pinned against the padded bench, mouth crashing into yours with so much heat it stole the air from your lungs.

“Remember what I said?” he growled against your lips, dragging a resistance band from the wall rack, looping it around your wrists.

“You’re gonna be mine. Tied. Stretched. Shaking.”

Your breath hitched. “Yes—”

The band tightened, pulling your arms up over your head as he pushed you onto the bench, eyes dark and ravenous.

“You trust me?”

You nodded.

“Good.” He pushed your thighs apart. “Because I’m not stopping until these bands are shaking from how hard I make you scream.”

Your arms strained slightly, band flexing as he knelt between your legs.

He kissed a slow trail up your inner thigh—eyes never leaving yours—and when his tongue met your clit again, you bucked, moaning his name like a mantra.

The way he licked you? Wicked. The way he kept eye contact? Sinful. The way your core felt? Heaven .

And when he slid two fingers inside you, curling perfectly, enough to make you roll your eyes backwards in pleasure.

The resistance band nearly snapped from how hard you pulled.

He smirked. “Still with me?”

You choked on a moan. “More—please, more—”

He obliged. Three fingers now. His other hand gripping your hip, holding you down as your back arched, thighs trembling.

“You look so good like this. Tied up. Spread out. Desperate.”

You shattered—loud, breathless, water pooling between your legs from pleasure alone.

But he wasn’t done.

He flipped you over, band still holding your arms above your head, chest flush against the bench.

Your ass met his hips as he slammed into you from behind—deep, fast, relentless.

“Jungkook—oh my god—”

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling you back, exposing your neck. “You’re going to come again,” he rasped. “And again. Until your body forgets how to stop.”

You were shaking, gasping, ruined—and loving every second of it.

His thrusts never faltered. His dirty talk only got filthier. And when he came this time, it was with a loud groan and your name on his lips like a prayer.

You lay on the bench, limp and breathless, band slipping from your wrists.

He kissed your cheek. “are you okay?” Jungkook whispered tenderly, concerned laced in his tone.

“Barely,” you murmured. “I’ll never look at gym equipment the same way again.”

He chuckled, low and wicked. “Hope not.”

"Are you ready for the next round?" He smirks while suddenly picking you up carrying you in bridal style"

You could feel his eyes getting dark with lust every minute.

You nodded, anticipating the next exciting moment.

You didn't expect the yoga ball to feel this naughty—but leave it to Jungkook to turn gym equipment into temptation.

He sat on it, legs spread, body gleaming from sweat and the earlier shower. His smirk was dark, dangerous. “Get on your knees,” he said, voice low and thick with hunger.

You obeyed without hesitation, sinking down between his thighs, eyes flicking up to meet his. He was already hard—thick, flushed, needy.

Your lips wrapped around him slowly, teasing the tip, then taking more. His hand went to your hair, guiding you, fingers tightening with every bob of your head. The yoga ball squeaked softly under him as he shifted, hips moving with each motion you gave.

“Just like that,” he groaned, head falling back. “So good—too good.”

You hollowed your cheeks, tongue swirling, eyes locked on his as you worked him over. His abs flexed with restraint, the ball wobbling beneath his weight.

Then he lost it—hips bucking slightly, his free hand gripping the ball to keep balance as his breath hitched.

He pulled out with a gasp, hand still tangled in your hair. “You’re gonna make me lose control right here. ye-yeah like that baby..."

His moans sounded like lullaby to you.Licking your lips,you smirked up at him. “Isn’t that the point?”

He leaned close again.

"Teasing huh? Sauna next. No restraints. Just steam and my tongue.”

You clit throbbed with desire.

Later, the sauna was thick with steam and something even heavier—passion.

The air was almost suffocating, but your bodies craved the heat.

Jungkook sat across from you, legs spread, sweat glistening down his chest. He watched as your fingers slid between your thighs, breath shallow, eyes on him.

“You touching yourself, baby?” he asked, voice husky, gaze burning. “Let me see.”

You spread your legs a little wider, giving him a better view.

He groaned, hand sliding over himself slowly. “Keep going. I wanna see you come undone.”

You moaned, pace quickening. He watched your every move, palm pumping himself with matching rhythm. The only sounds were soft gasps, wet friction, and the crackling heat of the sauna wood.

He moved toward you then, kneeling between your legs, his lips finding your neck as his hands moved to your chest. He cupped both your tits, thumbs circling your hardened buds slowly, reverently.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, mouth hot against your skin.

He licked, sucked, kissed your sensitive buds ,switching between each one, teasing, worshipping. You arched into him, fingers never stopping below as he devoured your chest like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Jungkook—” you gasped.

“Don’t stop,” he growled, biting down gently. “I want us to come together again—just like this.”

And you did.

The night air was cool against your flushed skin as you and Jungkook slipped out of the gym, bodies sore, clothes clinging from sweat and steam. He held your hand like it was second nature, swinging it slightly as you walked back to your shared apartment.

Neither of you spoke, but everything had already been said—with fingers, lips, moans, and gasps.

When you got home, Jungkook grabbed two water bottles, handed you one, and pulled you gently toward the couch.

“Come here,” he said softly.

You curled into him, your back against his chest, his arm draped around your waist. He buried his face in your hair and exhaled, like holding you was the only way to finally relax.

Silence settled between you—comfortable, sweet. The tension from earlier melted into something quieter. Something more... real.

“You okay?” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder.

You nodded, tracing lazy circles on his forearm. “More than okay.”

His grip tightened slightly, pulling you in closer. "Gym partner's , huh?” he teased with a chuckle.

You turned your head, kissed the corner of his mouth. “Best damn partner I’ve ever had.”

He smiled, eyes half-lidded with affection and exhaustion. “Let’s just stay like this.”

And you did.

Wrapped in warmth, tangled limbs and soft breaths, no gym, no pressure, just you and him. The kind of silence that said I want you close—not just tonight, but tomorrow too.

And maybe... every night after that.

( Fin ,plz gimme bts fic suggestions. I accept requests )

[vampzity]

yunho loves the smell of your perfume.

it’s sweet, it’s fruity, it’s.. seductive. it could’ve been hours since you sprayed it and yet it would still linger as if you were in the room. though it didn’t just linger in the air, oh no. it was on your clothes, the bed sheets, and sometimes even on his own clothing. he didn’t complain. it might’ve been an overpowering or intense smell to others, but to him it was everything. it was invigorating, intoxicating.

he just wanted to tear you apart every time he got a whiff.

you had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in a robe as you sat in front of the vanity doing your makeup. you planned to go out with your friends later on, as it’s been some time since you’ve all seen each other. it was your birthday after all, and they made plans to take you out for dinner.

you reached for your normal perfume, spritzing it on your pulse points; both sides of your neck, your wrists and the back of your ankles. since you were going out, you wanted it to last a bit longer, so you sprayed a bit behind your ears and on your collarbone.

yunho walked into the room as you did this, the sweet smell hitting him almost instantly. he was met with your semi-naked body; nothing but a simple laced pair under your robe keeping you from being fully exposed to him.

“happy birthday baby.”

he dropped his bags by the door, coming over to you and giving you a small peck on your cheek. the vanilla scent swept under his nose, following him as he stood back up from being hunched over. your smell alone was enough to send him over the edge, it made him go crazy.

only now, he was fighting every urge to not eat you.

he kept his hands at your shoulders— an attempt to ground himself, as he watched you do your makeup. you were so clueless, so innocent minded to knowing how insane you made him. how a smell like that made him want to sink his teeth into your skin until you cried.

“what time are you leaving?”

you applied a bit of blush to your cheeks, blending it out softly.

“hmm, maybe 6:30. why?”

he glanced at the analog clock in your vanity— 4:34 pm. surely that would be enough time right? work had him swamped for your special day, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t do at least something to make you feel special. after all, you’d have him to yourself tomorrow.

you looked back at him for a split second, brow raised as you tried to read his blank stare.

“watcha thinking about?” you began to apply a bit of blush, deciding to brush it off as nothing.

he gave it a moment of thought, pondering on whether or not it was a good idea. except he didn’t need to think, he knew what he wanted and he wasn’t going to let a bit of doubt stop him.

“you,”

yunho leaned over, his lips brushing by your neck softly as he began to place small kisses along your skin.

“and that sweet smell that’s lingering on your skin.”

your breath hitched at his actions, pausing what you were doing when his eyes met yours in the mirror. his hands explored your torso, undoing the already loose tie and exposing any uncovered flesh underneath. he watched the rob fall off your shoulders slightly, the strap of your bra holding your breasts in place nicely.

you felt his lips travel from your neck down to your shoulder as he slipped his hands behind your back, undoing the clasp of your bra. he pulled it off your shoulders, watching them perk up in the mirror. your face flushed red, feeling his hands fondle with them softly as your nipples danced between his fingertips.

“i just want to eat you alive.”

he felt your body shudder as his tongue grazed along your skin. he toyed with your nipples, his teeth taking small bites out of your neck. your soft whimpers filled the room, making him twitch in his pants.

yunho pulled you out of the chair and walked you over to your shared bed, taking a seat. his hands rested at your waist as he admired you, standing in merely just underwear in front of him. his long fingers kneaded into your sides as he leaned in, his breath bouncing off of your chest.

“need you so bad baby.”

you felt your body tense as he pressed his lips against your chest, a small trail of kisses being left until he reached your nipple. he suckled against the sensitive bud, desperate to get a reaction out of you before flicking the same area.

yunho tugged at your underwear before he lay against the bed, pulling your arm toward him slightly. he gave you a small look, watching your face burn red with heat.

“c’mere.. wanna taste you.”

you did as you were told, letting your underwear drop to your ankles before climbing on top of him. his pupils were blown as he was greedy to get a taste out of you, watching your cunt hover above him. his finger slid through your folds, spreading you apart slightly to watch the small mess he made.

he pulled you down onto his face, his tongue sinking into your wet cunt. you threw your head back, rolling your hips slightly to create friction between your bud and his nose. yunho could die just like this, having you ride his face mercilessly as he lapped up your sweet juices. the soft scent of your perfume filling his nose with every gesture you made against him.

“fuck.. yunho..”

you ran your fingers through his black locks, feeling his tongue dipping in and out of you. he looked up at you, watching your tits move in motion with your free hand coming up to grab at one of them.

it was so good. so so good. you’ve never seen yunho this insane for you— you’ve never felt the way you did in that moment. his plump lips kissed at your folds as he sucked against them, tongue still teasing your entrance. you felt his nose shake against your bud, sending a shock of pleasure up your back as you tried not to squish his head.

yunho noticed this, using his hands to push your legs against his ears. he didn’t care if you damn near killed him— in this moment he was satisfied, and all he cared for was satisfying you. his tongue worked tirelessly around your pussy, switching between flicking at your bean and teasing your tight entrance.

“oh my god,” you felt your thighs grow wet with slick as you rode his face faster, your climax growing intensely.

“fuck yunho.. please, don’t stop.

like hell he ever would. you leaned over him, using your arms to hold you up as your motions became more frantic. yunho slid his hand under you, sticking two of his fingers into your aching hole. a soft cry escaped you, feeling his fingers curl as he pumped them inside of you. his tongue flicked at your sensitive nerves, sucking against it whenever he hit your sweet spot.

“gonna cum f’me pretty girl?”

you let out a breathless yes, pushing your cunt against his fingers as you were desperate to finish. yunho nipped at your clit, swirling his tongue around it and altering between the two. you were sure that at this rate, your neighbors could hear your cries and whimpers, as the walls in your apartment complex were pretty thin.

though, that’ll be dealt with later.

within seconds you came undone, feeling your body heat up with immense pleasure. yunho’s tongue slid between your folds, desperate to get a bit of your sweet taste he was so obsessed with. you sat back up, watching as he happily massaged your bud with his tongue, making you jump from overstimulation as you begged him to stop.

he obeyed, letting you get off of him. you watched his eyes light up as your juices leaked down his chin slowly. he sucked the bit of you off his fingers, sighing happily to himself. he sat up, pulling you toward him and hugging you tightly. he pressed his ear up against your chest, soothing himself with the sound of your quick heartbeat.

“fuck, i can never get enough of you.”

yunho kissed at your breasts lightly, his thumb caressing your waist. he looked up at you with soft eyes, giving you a warm smile as you looked away shyly.

“okay okay, i’ll let you get ready.”

he let go of you, watching you put back on your robe and walk toward the bathroom to freshen up once again. yunho ran his hand along his clothed cock, a soft groan escaping him as it remained hardened.

“any second longer and you would’ve cancelled on your friends because i ruined that pretty makeup of yours.”

💌: this was supposed to be posted for my birthday but like im horrible at getting things done on time ngl… happy late bday to me? side note: i also LOVEEE black opium. it’s one of my favs

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