#the lighting toward the end was driving me crazy but it is what it is i guess

[alwayssassydreamer]

Vicious

Song Prompt Challenge

She's a little bit twisted, little bit wild Little bit fucked up, that's my style Little bit ruthless, little bit raw And I love the way you hate me You love to drive me crazy That girl is vicious, she's vicious Got venom in her kisses She's wicked, she's wicked

Warnings: none really, fluffish, kissing

Characters: Shanks x F!MarineReader

The Red-Haired Pirates had docked in town, and you told yourself you had to “observe” them. Over the months you've been running into them more than once. And every single time, Shanks flirted with you like it was a game he refused to lose. You’d tried to resist, tried to act like his charm didn’t get to you. But it was impossible to hold the line.

The bar you entered was alive with the sound of rowdy laughter, clinking mugs, and drunken shanties. As a Marine officer, you shouldn’t have been there. Fraternizing with pirates — even indirectly — was a direct violation of the code you were sworn to uphold.

But "duty" had a funny way of twisting itself, especially when Shanks was involved. Or at least, that was the excuse you told yourself.

You stood at the edge of the room, scanning the crowd. Your uniform was absent tonight, replaced by casual clothes to blend in.

Then you spotted him. Shanks stood at the bar, next to him Benn Beckman and Yasopp his crimson hair catching the dim light, a familiar grin playing on his lips. His gaze flicked toward you, and just like that, you felt his pull—magnetic and maddening.

You rolled your eyes but found yourself moving toward him anyway, the crowd parting instinctively.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Marine,” Shanks drawled as you approached, leaning forward on his elbows. “Out of uniform, I see. Trying to go undercover to see me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you shot back, leaning casually against the bar. “I’m here to make sure you and your crew don’t burn the place down.”

He laughed, a rich, warm sound that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. Shanks leaned closer, his eyes sparkled with mischief, and his grin widened.

“I think you just like keeping an eye on me. Can’t say I blame you, though. I am pretty charming.”

Beckman chuckled softly, and Yasopp grinned, but neither of them interrupted. They’d seen this game play out too many times to bother interfering.

“You’re infuriating,” you muttered, turning back to the bar in the hopes of ending the conversation. But of course, Shanks wasn’t done.

"You know,” he began, his voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine, “I’ve been thinking about you.”

“Oh?” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. “And what exactly have you been thinking?”

"She’s a little bit twisted, a little bit wild,” he said to Beckman and Yasopp. The playful lilt in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “Little bit fucked up—that’s my style. Little bit ruthless, little bit raw,” he continued, and you could hear the grin in his voice.

You laughed softly, shaking your head.

“Flattery will get you nowhere, Shanks.”

“Who said I’m trying to get anywhere?” he shot back, his grin turning wicked. “I just love the way you hate me.”

“Hate you?” you teased, leaning forward slightly. “That’s a strong word.”

“Maybe,” he admitted, his tone playful. “But you do love driving me crazy.”

“And you make it so easy,” you said, smirking as you crossed your arms.

Shanks leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “That girl is vicious,” he murmured, his gaze dropping to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “Got venom in her kisses.”

Your lips curled into a smirk, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. “Venomous, huh? Sounds dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” he repeated, his grin widening. “Maybe. But I like living on the edge.”

You held his gaze, the air between you heavy with unspoken words. “So what does that make you?” you asked softly. “Foolish? Reckless?”

“Both,” he admitted with a shrug, his eyes twinkling. “But it’s worth it.”

There was no point denying the pull between you. From the moment you’d first met, his charm had been impossible to ignore. Flirting with Shanks was like stepping onto a battlefield—dangerous, exhilarating, and utterly addicting.

Beckman chuckled quietly, and Yasopp smirked, clearly enjoying the show. You forced yourself to remain calm, though your heart raced in your chest.

“She’s wicked,” he said softly, his tone carrying an edge of something deeper. “Yet somehow so delicious.”

You raised your drink to your lips, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks. “You’ve got quite the imagination.”

“And you’ve got quite the effect on me,” he shot back, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smirk. “Face it—you’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”

You set your drink down, turning to fully face him. “In your dreams, Shanks.”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Every night, sweetheart.”

You leaned in, close enough to feel the warmth of his breath. “If I'm so vicious and my kisses are so venomous,” you whispered, your voice dripping with teasing confidence, “shouldn’t you be more careful?”

Shanks chuckled, his hand resting casually on the table as his eyes flicked to your lips again. “Careful’s not really my style,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “Besides, I think I can handle it.”

The tension snapped, and before you could think twice, you closed the distance, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was both fiery and intoxicating. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer as the world around you seemed to fade away.

The kiss ended as suddenly as it began, and when you pulled back, Shanks’ signature grin spread across his face, though his eyes glinted with something deeper—satisfaction, mischief, and a challenge all rolled into one

“So?” you asked, your voice light. “Are my kisses really that venomous?”

Shanks grinned, his thumb brushing your hip in a way that made your pulse quicken. “Oh, they’re venomous, all right,” he said, his tone teasing. “Deadly, even.”

“Good to know,” you replied, your smirk widening. “Guess you’ll just have to build up a tolerance.”

Shanks laughed, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something deeper. “Guess I will.”

Beckman and Yasopp froze in stunned silence as you pulled Shanks into the kiss. It wasn’t often they saw someone catch their captain off guard, and even less so in such a bold, public way.

“Well, that’s new,” Beckman muttered, lighting a cigarette. “Didn’t think she’d actually go for it.”

Yasopp recovered first, setting his mug down with a chuckle. “Can’t say I blame her. He’s been laying it on thick since day one. Guess persistence pays off. A Marine and a pirate? What kind of world are we living in?"

“The kind where our captain enjoys making bad decisions,” Beckman replied dryly, though his gaze flicked to you for a moment, assessing.

You straightened, fixing the hem of your shirt as if the kiss hadn’t just turned the room into a powder keg. Shanks, of course, was basking in the chaos, his grin smug and completely unbothered by the reactions of his crewmates.

"What can I say? I’ve got a way with women. Not even Marines are immun” Shanks said. “Now, about that tolerance. Care to help me build it up?”

Before you could answer, Yasopp interrupted, leaning on the table with a smirk. “You know, this is the part where we usually remind you that you’re a Marine, and he’s—well, a yonko.”

Your stomach tightened slightly at the reminder. The line between your worlds was razor thin, and you’d just crossed it in front of his crew. For a moment, doubt flickered in your mind, but then Shanks chuckled, his grip on your hip tightening ever so slightly.

“Details, Yasopp,” he said, dismissively. “We’re having a moment here.”

And yet Yasopp and Beckman weren’t wrong to be wary. You were a Marine, sworn to uphold the law, and Shanks was one of the most notorious pirates in the world. This… whatever this was… it couldn’t lead anywhere good.

But in the heat of the moment, with Shanks still grinning at you like you’d just handed him the greatest prize in the Grand Line, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Shanks leaned closer again, looking at you with that maddening mix of charm and mischief.

“So,” he said, his voice low and teasing, “was that just to shut me up, or are you finally admitting you like me?”

You raised an eyebrow, leaning slightly forward. “Maybe I just wanted to see what all the fuss was about,” you replied coolly, though your heart was still racing. “You do talk a big game, after all.”

He chuckled, his grin somehow managing to grow even wider. “And? Was it worth the hype?”

You let the silence hang for a moment, watching as his crew leaned in slightly, waiting for your answer. Finally, you shrugged. “Guess you’ll just have to wonder.”

You studied him, catching the glimmer of something deeper in his eyes than just amusement or lust—it was curiosity, a spark of genuine interest that made your heart skip a beat.

But reality hit as you straightened, your fingers brushing his arm before pulling away.

“As fun as this is, Captain,” you said, your tone light but firm, “I’m still a Marine, and you’re still a pirate. I’m pretty sure this—” you gestured between the two of you, “—isn’t exactly regulation.”

“Funny. I don’t remember asking for permission.”

Your lips quirked up despite yourself. “You never do.”

“Exactly,” he said, lifting his mug in a mock toast. “I’m a rule breaker. And something tells me you’re not as by-the-book as you like to pretend.”

Shanks’ words struck a chord. He wasn’t wrong, and that scared you more than you cared to admit.

Enjoy your drink, Captain,” you said, your voice softer now. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

Shanks looked at you his grin never faltering. “Trouble’s no fun without you, sweetheart,” he teased, earning another groan from Yasopp and a shake of the head from Beckman.

As you reached the door, Shanks’ voice called after you, loud and unapologetic. “Don’t stay away too long, Marine! I’ll be waiting for round two!”

You didn’t look back, but you couldn’t stop the small smile that crept onto your lips. The game was far from over, and you both knew it.

[haytan]

SOMETHING ABOUT YOU | G.A

inspired by this edit. listening to crush by ethel cain on loop while writing this

𓍼 WORD COUNT: 1900

𓍼 SUMMARY: Gracie is performing on tsou tour, but it ends up affecting you a little too much

𓍼 WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fingering (r receiving), mdni

it’s nighttime, and you’re accompanying gracie on the secret of us tour. the sky sparkles with countless stars, but none are more radiant than your girlfriend on stage. every time you think she can’t get more incredible, she proves you wrong—whether by appearing stunning under the lights or delivering a performance that leaves the audience in ecstasy.

lately, she’s been letting loose, undeniably herself. she dances freely across the stage, her voice echoing as if it could shatter the ceiling. but none of that is what makes your chest rise and fall too quickly, what makes a dangerous heat form in the pit of your stomach.

gracie plays her instruments like she plays you—fingers brushing the microphone stand, hands strumming the guitar so quickly her veins become visible, body moving with a rhythm that mirrors the way she takes her time with you in bed.

it’s driving you crazy.

when the show finally ends, you’re already waiting for her at the side of the stage. the fans scream her name, their voices blending with the distant roar of excitement. you wave politely, but your focus is elsewhere: on the woman walking toward you.

gracie appears, her chest rising and falling with every breath. sweat glistens on her exposed abdomen, her short hair damp and slightly curled at the ends. she’s wearing visible boxers beneath the jeans and a cropped top that clings to her skin, highlighting every line of her toned body.

she sees you and smiles, the kind of smile that always manages to steal the air from your lungs. she walks toward you, her steps confident but tired, and when she finally reaches you, she wraps her arms around your waist without hesitation.

“hey, love,” gracie murmurs, her voice hoarse from all the singing. she rests her face against your neck, her lips brushing your skin as she speaks. “god, i’m so tired, but so happy you’re here."

her scent—sweat, soft perfume, and something unmistakably her—invades your senses, making your knees feel weaker than they should.

your arms instinctively fall to her hips, fingers pressing lightly against the fabric of her boxers. “you killed it up there,” you say, your voice soft but sincere. “you look like you just ran a marathon. you okay?”

gracie leans back just enough to meet your gaze, her brown eyes shining despite her exhaustion. she laughs, the sound low and warm, and leans more of her weight into you. “yeah, i’m okay. i just got a little carried away today,” a hint of pride tugging at the corners of her lips.

her hands slide down your back, fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns that send shivers down your spine. she tilts her head and gives you that cheeky grin of hers. “maybe i was just… extra inspired.”

your lips curve into a slow smile, like a child who’s just been given candy. “good to know,” your hand reaches for hers. “let’s get you to the dressing room before you pass out.”

gracie intertwines her fingers with yours, her grip firm yet tender. as you guide her backstage, she leans into your side, her short hair brushing against your jaw.

“mmm, i can’t wait to get out of these sweaty clothes,” she murmurs, her voice laced with suggestion. her hand squeezes yours, and when you glance down, she’s looking up at you through her lashes, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “think you could help me with that?”

the heat between you reignites, and for a moment, you’re not sure how you’re going to keep your hands off her.

…

back at the hotel, you and gracie share intense kisses down the hallways, taking advantage of the late hour to avoid curious eyes. she didn’t even bother changing out of her stage clothes—part of her knows you love seeing her like this, still carrying the energy from the stage.

"let’s get inside,” you murmur, breaking the kiss reluctantly, her taste still warm on your lips. your hands are firm on her hips, as if fighting against desire is nearly impossible

as soon as the door to the room shuts with a careless kick from your girlfriend, she’s pulling you back. gracie’s lips crash against yours in an even fiercer kiss, her hands exploring every curve of your body as she walks backward toward the bed.

“god, i need you right now,” she murmurs against your lips, her voice husky and rough, heavy with urgency.

you take control for a moment, your hands sliding to the button of the jeans she still wears. the low sound of the zipper being undone is almost inaudible over gracie’s heavy breathing, but the gesture makes her arch her body slightly against you, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

gracie pauses only for a moment, just long enough to pull off her pants and yank the sweaty top over her head. the fabric is tossed carelessly to the floor, revealing her chest still glistening with sweat from the show.

before you can say anything, gracie is back, her mouth hungry against yours. she brings her hands down your thigh, lifting you up easily. your legs instinctively wrap around her waist as she walks the few remaining steps to the bed, falling onto it with you straddling her lap.

your skirt rides up slightly, revealing more of your ass barely covered by lace panties. your hips begin to move instinctively, grinding against her lap. "you're so hot," you whisper against her lips, one hand cupping her breast, the other caressing her neck—a tender act amidst the storm of lust.

gracie lets out a soft moan into your mouth as you grind against her, the heat of her boxers dampening further with arousal. her hands grip your hips, encouraging your movements, guiding the rhythm of your hips rocking against hers.

she breaks the kiss briefly to catch her breath before trailing her lips down your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point. her hands slide up your back, slipping under your shirt to caress your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

the air becomes heavier, harder to breathe, hotter. and before long, gracie isn't the only one sweating. your neck falls back, exposing the full length of your neck. "gracie…" you moan, your voice dripping with need. you don’t just want this—you need it.

abrams takes advantage of your exposed neck, her tongue trailing up the column of your throat, tasting the salt of your skin. she pauses at your jawline, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh before she pulls you into a bruising kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

without breaking the heated kiss, gracie suddenly flips your positions, pinning you down on your back against the center of the bed. she settles her hips firmly between your thighs, the rough denim of her boxers pressing against your lace-covered sex.

the mattress dips slightly under the combined weight of your bodies, the hotel bed creaking faintly with the force of her movements. in silent agreement, you break the kiss, gracie pulling away to remove her boxers, and you following her lead.

abrams quickly shimmies out of her boxers, tossing them carelessly to the side. meanwhile, you quickly strip off your own clothes, nearly tearing your panties in your haste. soon, the two of you are lying naked together, your bodies glistening with a mix of sweat and arousal.

gracie takes a moment to drink in the sight of you, thumbs rubbing circles into your swollen lips as she stares up at you, chest heaving. "fuck, you're so gorgeous," she murmurs, eyes roaming your face, taking in every detail. "i can't believe you're mine."

"you're the gorgeous one here, love" your eyes also scan her, taking in every curve and detail that makes her the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. "and if you don’t believe i’m yours…" you lean in, your lips brushing her ear as you whisper. "then make me.”

gracie’s expression darkens with lust, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "oh, i will," she growls before crashing her lips against yours. one of her hands trails down your body, her fingers brushing through your slick folds before plunging inside. the sensation is overwhelming, a perfect mix of torturous and intoxicating.

your hips lift instinctively to meet her thrusts, breaths turning into shallow gasps. “awn…” a soft, broken moan escapes your lips, leaving no doubt about how completely surrounded you are by her touch.

gracie takes your words, and your eager responses, as the encouragement they are. she doubles her efforts, fingers pumping faster and harder into your dripping heat. her thumb finds your clit, rubbing tight circles around the sensitive nub.

your nails dig into her back, leaving red trails on her pale skin. marking her yours as she marks you hers. abrams arches into your touch, a guttural moan escaping her lips, arousal coating her inner thighs. "fuck, just like that, baby," she pants, her voice thick with need.

her fingers curl inside you, hitting the spot that makes your toes curl and your vision blur. the intensity builds rapidly, your body arching off the bed as you reach the climax. "oh fuck, gracie…" she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you against her until you come down from your high.

as your body still trembles, she stays close, peppering your face with soft kisses. her fingers slow their movements inside you as she tucks you back into the mattress, allowing you to catch your breath. “i love you so fucking much,” she murmurs against your temple, her voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and adoration

your body trembles as you try to catch your breath, sweat clinging to your skin. but fuck… it was amazing. "i love you more," you whisper back, a blissful, drunken smile spreading across your lips. you open your arms, inviting her closer. "come here, stay with me.”

gracie withdraws her fingers from you and settles into your embrace, resting her head against your chest. she listens to your heartbeat, feeling it gradually slow from its frantic rhythm. "i could stay like this forever," she murmurs softly.

your arms tighten around her waist, and your fingertips trace idle patterns on her damp skin. "me too, my love," your eyes fluttering shut as you take a deep breath. the faint, citrusy scent of your shared arousal lingers in the air, bringing a soft smile to your lips. it’s intoxicating—and also a reminder. "but we need a bath… especially you," you tease, giving her ass a playful squeeze.

gracie lets out a giggle and lifts her head to meet your gaze, eyes glinting with mischief. "mmm, you might be right,”she concedes, though she makes no move to leave your embrace. instead, she leans in to capture your lips in a lingering kiss.

without even thinking twice, you kissed back. it was a slower kiss compared to the lovemaking you had done, but it still didn't fail to send butterflies in your stomach. "love you”

"i love you too," she murmurs, pressing one last kiss to the corner of your mouth before reluctantly pulling back. sitting up, she stretches languidly, her toned muscles flexing. gracie stands and holds out a hand to help you up, a playful smirk on her face. "let's go get cleaned up, huh? then maybe we can continue this…"

thanks for reading <3

back to nav

[melgolbach]

RESTLESS NIGHT | B. BRADSHAW

Bradley had just came back home, four months ago he left for a deployment that was a top secret mission. For four months, you were alone for the majority of the time.

Sure, his friends would make sure you were a-okay and that you wouldn’t starve to death. You knew what it would be like to date Bradley, but sometimes it hits hard.

A door slam was heard from outside of the shared house you had with him, your eyebrows raised. It was 3 am, who would be at your house this late at night?

Taking the bat that was always by your side of the bed, you opened your bedroom door and slowly walked through the house. You hid in a dark corner of the living room, just in case the intruder in your drive-way decided to come inside.

Your eyes widened when the door knob to the front of the house un locked from the outside, you gripped the tan bat in your two hands, ready to jump the guy who decided to barge into your house that you feel safe in (even without Bradley there).

The door opened slowly, as if the intruder knew that the front door creeks every time it’s opened. You started to scream at the intruder, the bat swinging behind you and almost had hit the intruder but the intruder was faster.

His hand grabbed the bat as he swiftly turned around to face you. “Bradley.” You breathed out.

He grinned like crazy, “what in the world are you doing at 3 am up at this hour, and why are you in the corner with a bat?” He chuckled, dropping the bat on the dark wooden floors you’re standing on. “I heard a car slam door. Thought it was someone random,” you shrugged with your eyes still widened.

Bradley laughed, “you still didn’t tell me why you were up at 3 am.” He pointed out. “S’nothing.” Your arms found their way around his torso, you snuggled up to his body. “Mhm, sure.” His voice vibrates to your body, and you can hear his heartbeat steady with your one ear on his chest. “I’ve missed you,” you whispered. “I’ve missed you more,” he responded as he kissed your forehead.

“God that mission was tedious. All I was thinking about was coming back home to you,” he rambled. You cooed for him, your hands reaching to the back of his head as you played with his curly lock of hair. “Well I’m glad you made it back home all in one piece.” You said as you looked at him with lovey dovey eyes.

He looked back with the same affection, leaning down to your lips and placing his on yours. “God I’ve missed you so much pumpkin.” He whispered. “I could not imagine life without you”

You smiled softly. “The same from me to you.” You kiss him once more as he dropped his duffle bag. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”you grab him by his hand, walking in front as he walks behind you. You opened the door, turning on the light and you could hear him taking off his clothes already. “I’m just glad I can get back to my comfy bed and my beautiful wife. This is a win for me.” He was in his khaki shorts only, taking his shoes off first.

“This is a win for me as well.” You smirked, looking at Bradley’s chest. His eyebrows raised, a smirk placed on his face. “Yeah?” He asked. “Mhmhmhm,” you mumble. Bradley eyed you from what you were wearing.

His favorite set- the set he got you for Valentine’s Day two years ago. A silky black pajama set that hugged you perfectly. “Well, I also too like what I’m seeing.” He responded to your previous comment as he walked slowly towards you. You were at the end of the bed, his body softly hovering over yours as he placed you onto the soft mattress. “Oh yeah?” You asked back, the same way as he did.

“Yeah.”

A/N:

I came back to the first person that blew up on my blog because I haven’t wrote about him in forever and I have been feeling so in love with Bradley Bradshaw right now it isn’t even funny 💔.

[stylesrecord]

LOVE ON TOUR – Palm Springs (2/1) “Your sign says, ‘Got dumped by my situationship.’ Can you get dumped from a situationship? I bet you’d just get freed!”

[eternityofend]

SAVE THE COW

MILK THE MILKMAN.

Pairing: F!Reader x Francis Mosses. (18+)

[ TW ] MINORS DNI 18+

NSFW, Overstimulation, Whimpering, Slight praise kink, Unprotected sex, Riding, Submissive Francis, Dominant Reader, Porn with no Plot, Blowjob, Biting, Kissing/Making out, Aftercare.

A/N: This is my first time writing smut, I apologize if it isn't that good.

"Mmm..."

You coo, caressing Francis's face as you kissed him on the nose. How adorable he was for a man who didn't care much for others, merely focusing on his work instead of interacting with others.

You felt special, considering you were the only one he opened up to, the only one he'd talk to without shying away.

But it was only right.

You let out a ghost of a smile as you continue caressing Francis's cheeks with your hands, kissing his neck lightly as you felt him tremble by your touch. Every touch of your lips on his skin sent him vocally expressing just how truly sensitive he was, gripping onto the fabric of your clothes as Francis threw his head back, face redder than scarlet milk.

Francis breathes out heavily, his hand going behind your head to grip onto your hair as you continue to litter kisses on his neck without end.

"[Name]-"

Poor Francis, barely even able to speak out more than one word before suddenly releasing a high pitched moan, gripping tighter on your hair as he was caught by surprise by the bite you left on his neck.

Francis's entire body trembles, but he doesn't tell you to stop.

You lick your lips, leaning your head up as you took Francis's chin in your hand and made him face towards you.

He looks like a puppy because of his teary expression and red cheeks. You sigh, how adorable can this man get?

You take his lips into yours, slipping your arm behind his waist as you hum in content, kissing him with vigorous passion that you knew would make him struggle to get air after.

Francis whines, trying to kiss you back with the same passion you were giving him but the best he could do was open his mouth and let you take control, leaning back on the bed he was on.

"Francis.." You mutter his name, breaking the kiss as he panted, his lungs fighting to get air after making out with you for a minute straight.

Your fingers cup his cheek and he leans into your touch, staring at you in the eyes while panting quietly. You smile, pushing him on the chest, forcing him to lay down on the bed as you crawl on top of him.

"I'll take good care of you." You whisper into his ear, your hand already unbuckling his belt and zipping down his pants.

"[Name].. please-" Francis mutters something with a rasp tone in his voice, gazing at you with such doe eyes that activates a bottomless pit of hunger, of lust, in you.

You pull down the last barrier that covered his dick, your eyes swirling in lust as it leaked pre-cum, the tip flushing a light flustered pink, sensitive to your touch.

"Relax, I'll make you feel good tonight, okay?" You whisper in a gentle tone, already rubbing his dick up and down with your hand, eager to make him orgasm within 5 minutes.

You wanted to break him, hear him scream out your name when he cums.

He was simply just so adorable.

Your pace increases, and you feel the slightest twitch of Francis's dick in your hand as he suddenly whimpers, moaning out words for you to slow down.

"Wait- Wait- Mmmm.. [Name] please- go slow!-" Francis chokes on his words as you did the complete opposite of what he wanted, throwing his head back, his hips thrusted up to match your pace. His eyes rolling back, as the only thing that came out of his mouth were broken moans.

"Haa.. Ha-" Francis grips onto the sheets, letting out a chorus of "Ah, Ah, Haa~" completely letting you know he felt good.

You exhaled, trying to control yourself as you felt yourself get even more aroused just by listening to how lewd his sounds were.

"Shit, fuck.. you drive me crazy." You groan, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, biting on his skin; pumping even faster.

Faster.

More.

You needed to hear more of him.

"Fuck- Cum for me, Francis." You utter, feeling his dick twitch and convulse at your words. Just a second after, you immediately felt warm and sticky cum dropping on your hand as Francis let out a loud moan of your name.

Your eyes blurred with arousal, wanting to break him more.

"[Name].." Francis whispers out, but you shush him before he could say anything else.

You smile, getting on top of him as you pull down your pants. Rubbing your pussy on the tip of his dick as you used his cum to lubricate your insides.

Francis just stares at you, panting. His hand on your back, but he was mostly curious on what you were doing.

"I can help you.. if you wan-" Francis's eyes widen, letting out a sudden moan that cut off his sentence as he felt his dick enter your warm and wet pussy. He gripped hard on your hips, whining in pleasure as he felt your walls tighten even more around his cock.

Francis wasn't even fully in yet but he already felt like cumming again.

"[Name]. [Name]. [Name]. Fuck- fuck.. you feel so good, sugar.." Francis whines, thrusting his whole length inside of you. Moaning in the process of doing so, almost cumming when he felt your pussy clench so hard on his dick.

You pant, wrapping your hands around Francis's neck. Letting yourself rest for a while before raising your hips and dropping down on his dick.

"I'm gonna milk you dry.. Mr. Milkman."

Francis groans at the name, his dick twitching as he imagined you taking every single drop of his seed, he imagined filling you up to the brim.

You ride on Francis's dick at a fast pace, wet slapping echoing throughout the room as skin met skin.

Francis moans, changing his hold to grip onto your ass, his head burying into your neck while you bounced on his cock.

"Sugar.. you're taking me so well." Francis mutters softly, completely in bliss by how good your pussy felt.

You moan, your pussy clenching at his words. Despite him being the bottom this time, he still had a way of making you feel like you were the one being submissive.

A frustrating feeling grows in your stomach, wanting to show Francis that you were supposed to be the dominant one.

You clenched tighter on his dick, increasing your pace as you made sure he completely felt every inch of his dick get swallowed by your pussy.

Francis mutters something under his breath, completely lost in pleasure as he moaned in ecstasy, cumming in you for the second time.

You pant, continuing to ride Francis even if he already orgasmed, you wanted to show him that you were more than capable enough of giving both you and him pleasure.

"Sugar, wait- agh- haa~ slow down.." Francis tapped on your hip, grunting and moaning as he felt your tightness.

You moaned, leaning backwards as you rode Francis as if he was a mechanical bull for you to conquer.

Just a few seconds after, you feel Francis cum another time, whining and whimpering, begging you to stop.

"A little more.." You say, panting. Ignoring the feeling building up in your stomach as you tried to at least make Francis reach another orgasm before you finish.

"Sugar- God, if you don't stop- Ngh~" Francis's voice crumbles, his tone deep but filled with cracks as it was raspy and tired.

"More.."

You feel yourself almost cumming, and you moan. Throwing your head into Francis's neck as you slammed yourself down on him and bit down on his neck.

Francis pulls on your hair, gasping in surprise as he felt your body shake above him, his cock does the same, twitching and pulsing because of how intense you were clenching down on him.

"You're going to kill me one day, Sugar." Francis mumbles, running his hands through your hair as he grabbed a strand and kissed it.

You whine, still not getting off his cock, your body too tired to even move.

"I just missed you.. you've been gone for so long because of work, and you look like you haven't even gotten enough sleep." You complain, caressing his face as you leaned on his shoulder.

The tips of Francis's lips turn upwards, a soft yet baffled chuckle escaping from his mouth.

"Mmmm.. I didn't realize you missed me that much, you should've told me, Sugar.. I would've come home immediately." Francis places a kiss on your forehead, lifting you off his cock as cum dripped from your pussy to his thighs.

Francis puts two fingers inside your pussy, scooping a load of your cum before putting it in his mouth.

A satisfied expression appears on his face as he swallows, pecking you on the lips before saying something that makes you mumble in embarrassment.

"Much better than milk." Francis laughs out, kissing you on the lips with complete gentleness.

"Now let's get you cleaned up.."

You hum, gripping onto him tightly as he lifted you up and carried you to the bathroom.

Let's just say, you both did much more than just clean yourselves up in the bathroom.

[jamminvroomvroom]

hi babe i’m here from the dms but. speaking of brain rot, thinking abt fwb lando again where u stay the night after and wake up in the morning expecting him to be gone already for smth work related or what not but he’s still in bed absolutely clinging to u. and then more soft sleepy morning sex 🫠🫠

play pretend.

ln x fem!reader

in which it’s time to stop pretending…

just a little blurb to say…. HAPPY BIRTHDAY @lavenderlando !! sorry i made you wait like 6 months for this lmfao i love u girl, u mean the world to me and i hope this hits the spot 💖💖 lemme know what y’all think, more 4k requests will be worked on asap (it’s exam szn ew)

songs to set the mood: denial by james marriott, real love baby by father john misty, can i call you rose? by thee sacred souls

warnings: 18+!! minors go away! smut, morning sex, friends to lovers, best friend!reader, friends with benefits type relationship, fluff, unprotected sex (don’t be silly…)

1k words

cool air casts goosebumps over your bare skin, the open window letting in the morning breeze. you tug at the grey bedsheets, dragging them higher over your frame where you lay. you eyes are cracked open, hazily taking in the sight before you.

he’s still here.

you often expect lando to be gone when you wake up. sometimes it’s because of work, sometimes it’s because you’d promised not to do this again but alcohol had then rendered the both of you irresistible to the other, and it was too awkward to have yet another jarring conversation about how you’re such good friends.

but he’s there. and he’s looking at you.

“hi.” he croaks, soft and low. you revel in his morning voice on the rare occasions you get to hear it.

“hey.” you mumble, leaning in closer to him.

he pushes the duvet up and away, inviting you into his arms, and you wriggle towards him. he’s a human heater, and you’re cold, that’s the only reason you snuggle up, tucked between his arms.

“you’re still here.” you whisper into his chest, purposefully quiet, almost as if you don’t actually want him to hear you.

“couldn’t leave you.” he mutters quietly.

you crane your head to look up at him, eyes blown wide at the admission.

“why?”

“i hate leaving after.”

the ‘after’ hangs heavy in the air between you for a second. he’s eyeing up your lips and you’re returning the gesture, sleepy eyes flitting between his and his plush lips.

this never happens. usually, the night starts with too many drinks too quickly, progresses to his hands dropping dangerously low on your waist, leads to the pair of you mentally scarring an innocent taxi driver, and ends with you underneath him. or, on top of him. and then, he’s gone.

“for the record, i hate it when you go.” you reply, and the space between you dissipates. there are so many unsaid words being traded between you, an intense charge of energy. you’re anxiously sliding your hands up his sides, itching to feel impossibly closer.

“maybe i should stop going then, hm?” two of lando’s fingers grasp your chin, tilting it up to bump his.

“yeah.” you breathe.

it’s like he’s tugged an invisible string, and you’re melting into him, his lips slotting immaculately over yours, as if they were sculpted by god to rest against yours. he tastes familiar, it’s rare you get to kiss him sober and in the light of day. you bask in it, finding the messy, loose curls tickling the back of his neck, threading your fingers through the thick, brown strands. he groans, parting his mouth just enough for you to slide your tongue over his.

“want you. now.” you gasp urgently into the space where your lips part, your body rolling hungrily against his.

“i always want you, drives me crazy.” lando grunts, grabbing a handful of your ass and pulling you even closer.

lando slots his thigh between your legs, and you search for friction, rutting against him. you’re both naked from the blurry night before so you can feel everything, each part of him so ready for you. you’re slick for him already, can feel the way it’s painting your inner thighs. you hate how easy it is to lose yourself in him.

“take me then.” you whine, your forehead collapsing against his shoulder.

lando smirks, flipping you over so that your back is to his chest, like you’re nothing. he hooks your top leg over his, sliding himself closer to where you’re aching for him.

“can’t keep pretending.” lando whispers against the shell of your ear.

he slides deep, then, filling you to the hilt. it knocks the air out of you, your back arching at the sensation of him hitting every single spot that mattered.

“then let’s not pretend anymore.” you choke out, your head rolling back against his shoulder.

“yeah, baby? wanna be all mine?” he teases, thrusting deep and slow, the slide of him shooting pleasure over your body like the slow, satisfying drip of warm honey.

“already am, all yours.” you sigh, totally and utterly content as your nerve endings pulsed with pleasure.

“good girl.” lando praises, his voice fucked out and lovestruck.

as if he’s rewarding you for your admission, the pad of his finger slips down your navel, finding your clit. you’re soaked for him, wet and warm, and he traces circles into the bundle of nerves, each touch sending you keening back into him.

“so close.” you sound like you’re begging, pleading for him to let you finish all over him.

“gotta say please.” he nips the skin of your shoulder and you squirm, toes curling.

“please, lando.” you writhe, canting your hips back against him.

“sound so pretty for me.” he coos, peppering kisses down your neck.

his fingers speed up against your folds, working you perfectly to a sweet release. everything is still blurred by sleep, your body overly sensitive from the cool air pouring in through the window and the slumber still lodged in your bones.

“cum with me.” you slur, your eyes squeezing shut. you almost turn into him, convulsing in his arms to the point where you’d be staring into his stormy eyes if you could manage to pry yours open.

“let me see those eyes.” he commands, your entire body shuddering. you blink, staring up at him, and you both fold, meeting your ends. he looks fierce, starved, completely enamoured with every single way your face moves.

your jaw hangs agape, a choked cry stifled in the back of your throat. it’s all too much, and just about enough, huge, calloused hands roaming your body as your shake, spilling all over him.

“god.” you breathe, flopping limply against him. he stays buried inside of you, his face lost to the damp skin of the crook of your neck.

“i never would of left all those mornings if i knew this is the good morning i’d get.” lando laughs, the sound deep and wholesome. you cosy yourself up even closer to him.

“not letting you leave from now on.” you murmur, smiling to yourself when you feel his lips press against the back of your head.

“you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

-

sorry this is soooo bad lmao i felt the urge to write something short n sweet xoxo

-

taglist

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[tcmmysheiby]

oh, loverboy - dbf!joel miller

authors note - listen, i love myself some pedro pascal but game!joel?? another level for me, ok. you can picture with either game!joel or show!joel, you do you. i haven't written in five years and i have come out of writing retirement just for this man. pls be kind to me!! any feedback is appreciated, especially as this is my first smut in so long and i'm used to writing about peaky blinders boys! feel free to send me asks, requests, whatever whatever u want

warnings - dbf!joel, afab, reader described as wearing a dress, dry humping, cheating (joel is married!!), joel takes readers underwear, reader is v horny and shameless about it, facesitting/riding (aka reader would kill joel irl), lots of dirty talk, pussy pronouns, brief female masturbation and brief mention of male masturbation, dryer is in the kitchen cause i'm british ok!!!, slight cum play but not really, use of the word slut, joel gets off on having just hair pulled at js, somewhat switch!joel towards the end but maybe not idk, semi-public sex, office sex, age gap (20 years, the rest is down to you)

word count - 8k.

You knew it was wrong to be besotted with your parent’s best friend, especially when he was a married man but how could you resist? Joel Miller did nothing to help your cause. 

He was polite, handsome and always walked around like he oozed confidence and could do whatever he wanted and no one would bat an eyelid.  His smile was enough to have you clenching your thighs during family meals and your fingers stuffed deep in your pussy the very same night as you dreamed of what else that mouth could do. It was a long, tortuous, heavenly roundabout that you were stuck on and frankly, you didn’t want to get off. 

What did you do in a previous life to deserve this? Why couldn’t you have met Joel in another life? A life where Joel and your dad didn’t meet every Saturday night to play card games and drink beer whilst discussing the latest game. A life where your mother and Joel’s wife, Charlotte, didn’t have spa nights and drink cheap fruity wine they got from the local store. You deserved more, you deserved better, you deserved Joel. 

You have been so good. You’d resisted him for years. You’d perfected your best, fake smile during every anniversary dinner, congratulated them as they announced the renewal of their vows, you’d helped his wife pick out her wedding dress alongside your mother, you’d done everything you were meant to do. When was it your turn? 

“What you thinkin’ bout, girl?” 

You dragged your eyes away from the kitchen window and over to Joel who stood in the doorway, halfway to the fridge before he stopped. How long had you been staring out the window at him? You had only come in here to check on your laundry, how long ago was that? Were you going crazy? 

“Nothin’, Joel,” you said softly, quickly glancing down at the dryer, only a few minutes left. “You and my dad havin’ a good time?” 

You nodded out the window and towards the car that Joel and your dad had been working on for almost six months now, they never seemed to get any further with their latest mechanical mission. On the lawn next to the drive sat your mother and Charlotte, both of them engrossed in conversation as they sipped on lemonade whilst basking in the Austin summer heat. You didn’t hate Charlotte exactly but you envied her and you didn’t know what was worse. You envied her pretty flowery dresses and long curled hair that always look elegant, her fingernails which were always painted a pretty light blue colour and perfectly maintained, envied the fact she slept next to Joel every night and probably didn’t realise how lucky she was. God, maybe you did hate her. 

“Be havin’ a damn better time when I don’t have to look at that car again, swear your dad buys the stupidest shit going,” he scoffed before opening the fridge and pulling out two beers, eyeing up the cheap brand your father had purchased. Joel then turned towards you, “Looks like something’s on your mind - “ he paused before the slight graze of a smirk morphed on his luscious face. “Or someone?” 

It was your turn to scoff, only yours came out uncomfortably loud. “N’ what’s that meant to mean?” 

“C’mon, charmin’ girl like you must have someone by now,” Joel questioned, an eyebrow arched as he stared over at you. Was he moving closer to you? No, it was your imagination. “Not seen ya’ with anyone since that lil boy you had back when you were twenty, what a fool he turned out to be.”

Yeah, a fool indeed. What a waste of time he turned out to be. 

“Tell me about it.”

“Nobody then?” Joel was definitely closer. Could your laundry please hurry up?

You took a quick look  at him briefly before smiling and shaking your head. You turned back towards the window, your back to him now. “We all ain’t lucky to be loved up like you, Joel. Boys my age, well…” 

“What’s wrong with 'em’, sweetheart? That guy turned you off men completely, huh?” 

“Well, they just ain’t my type, Mr. Miller…” You trailed off, you hadn’t called him that in many years. “I like men that are a bit older, ya know?” 

As soon as you finished your sentence, you felt Joel's presence behind you. 

This is what happened between the two of you. Nothing out of turn was ever said but there was a tension, an indescribable sends-you-crazy in the middle of the night, tension. You were adamant it was just you being delusional. You were twenty-years younger than Joel, he would never have any interest in you that way. Plus, your parents were his best friends. Oh, and he was married.

Were you some infatuated young woman who just couldn’t stop fantasising about her dad’s hot best friend? This was more than a fantasy though, this had been going on years. You’d spent endless nights with your hand tucked in between your thighs as you thought dirty things about him. Had mastered every excuse going as to why you couldn’t attend any of the Miller’s functions that Charlotte insisted on throwing. 

“Older?” Joel leaned across you to grab the bottle opener. Of all the places for your father to have left it, why did you have to be in front of it? You got a whiff of his aftershave and almost fell to your knees there. “What makes you like older men so much, huh?” 

“Just somethin’ about them, somethin’ special, somethin’ that makes me feel a lil’ bit naughty, you know?” What were you doing? Words came out of your mouth before you could even process what you were going to say. Joel being behind you, his arm brushing past your waist as he brought the bottle opener towards him. It was all too much, you couldn’t stop rambling but he looked so good, black t-shirt so tight and jeans fitting in all the right places. Did she tell him how good he looked all the time? “They got more experience, more knowledge, and know how to treat a lady right. Boys my age, they don’t know what they doin’. Boys at college showed me that, that’s why i’m wantin’ an older man, ya know? Want someone who ain’t gonna mess me around or throw me to side when someone prettier comes along.” 

“These city boys stupid if they throwin’ you to the side baby,” Joel purred, his breath hot on your neck. He looked down at you from where he stood, trying his hardest not to stare down your shirt. You always made it so difficult for him. “You have many boys in college?” 

Joel moved to your side and faced away from the window. He stared straight ahead as he placed one of the beer bottles down and brought the other to his lips. You stared directly at his wife as you tried not to imagine her husband bending you over the counter, dropping to his knees and using his mouth to eat your pussy from the back. She had no idea as she giggled alongside your mother, had no idea of the thoughts that had ruined your brain since hormones came to play. 

“They wanted me, I didn’t always give them the same attention back.” 

You took a step back at the sound of the dryer beeping, finally. You grabbed the washing basket you had discarded to the side and lowered yourself to both knees as you emptied your load of dry, clean washing into it. Maybe this wasn’t the best position to be in considering you only had to glance slightly to your right and make eye contact with Joel’s bulge. You weren't straining your back for no-one though. 

You felt your heart drop as Joel crouched down to your level besides you. The two of you were no longer in view of the window, nor the front door if anyone was to walk in. This felt wildly inappropriate, you loved it. You just silently prayed that Joel felt the same gravitational pull as you did. 

It all seemed different. You’d had these conversations before, sometimes there had been flirtatious comments but Joel was a tease, could flirt with a lamp post if he really tried hard enough. There was something about the way he was looking at you now, almost as if there was resistance there. Like he was trying to resist you. 

“Older men won’t always treat you well,” he rasped, training his eyes to stay level with yours and not fall below your neckline. Your little white tank top doing nothing to hide your chest, it seemed you had skipped wearing anything underneath.  Such a tease, he thought. “Young pretty thing like you wanting a bit of them? C’mon now, you can’t handle no-one your own age, let alone someone twenty  years older than you.” 

There was a taunting smile on his face. Your heart began to thump under the thin material of your vest as you looked at him, not paying attention to the clothing in your hands. His head tilted to the side slightly as he eyed you up, waiting for you to respond. 

“You are twenty years older than me,” you whispered out loud before you could stop yourself.  “Do you think I couldn’t handle ya?” 

Joel shook his head and sniggered slightly. “I know you couldn’t handle me baby, ain’t no shame in that.” 

“Why don’t you give me the chance to prove you - “ 

“I’ll have these.” The words were spoken and an item of clothing was stolen from your hands before you could finish your sentence . You suddenly felt tiny as Joel stood up. You looked up at him, eyes wide and mouth open as you watched him hold your pink, lace panties in his hand. “I’d prefer them used but this will do.” You kneeled with your mouth open, unable to make any argument back. Joel looked down at you before he bent over slightly to grab your jaw. You whimpered pathetically at the action and a wide shit-eating grin was on Joel’s within seconds of you making the sound. “Goodbye sweet girl.” 

“Joel - “ 

“Goodbye sweet girl,” he repeated sternly, his eyes lingering on yours as he stood up straight and walked out of the kitchen, your panties stuffed in his back pocket and both bottles of beer in his hands. 

----

You were a fool. A big fool. 

As soon as Joel had gone, you were running upstairs into your room where you slammed the door shut and threw yourself down on the bed. It had never gone that far before. He’d taken your panties - your favourite but you’d let that slide. Your mind was clogged with thoughts of him with your panties wrapped around his cock as he edged himself over and over again. His hand pressed against the locked door of the bathroom he shared with his wife. He wouldn’t be thinking about her though, no, his mind would be flooded with filthy images of you doing the stuff his wife wouldn’t do for him, you bent over wherever he wanted, his cock stuffed wherever he wanted, your mouth wide open and pussy sopping for him. You wanted them back, covered in his cum and filth, his scent embedded in the material. He was making you feral, the panties you were currently wearing already so soaked.

He wanted them used? Well, he’d get them used. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out, your right index and middle finger slowly massaging your clit. 

It was the same routine almost nightly. The moment your fingers touched your clit, dirty thoughts of Joel would arise in your brain. You wanted every inch of him, wanted his fingers rubbing delicate circles on your clit rather than your own, wanted his tongue lapping you up as he slowly slipped his large fingers inside of you, slowly but surely bringing you to the edge over and over and over again. 

You felt restricted by the panties you were wearing but you needed them soaked. Needed Joel to have one smell of the fabric and go mad with lust, unable to control himself to the point he tugs his cock out wherever he is and strokes and strokes until he’s coming so hard that the only thing he can purr is your name over and over again. You were so mad for this man, you needed him to be the same back. 

This is what you were put on this planet for. You were made to make Joel miller go crazy at the scent of a younger woman. 

You rubbed your clit harder as you arched your back, mumbling his name repeatedly until it was the only thing you could do. Your legs spread wider as your eyes fluttered open and shut, the room blurring as you felt the pressure grow in your lower abdomen. 

You always came quick when you thought of Joel but this, this was humiliating. 

As your orgasm washed through you, all you could do was concentrate on Joel’s voice. I know you couldn’t handle me, baby. You could, you knew you could. You could hear the disgustingly beautiful words that he would speak to you as he thrusted his cock in and out of you, the delicious stretch as he split you open and opened your legs wider than you ever could yourself. 

“Oh fuck, Joel, Joel - “ you stuttered shakily, your orgasm sending shockwaves through your body. You tightened your legs around your hand that was still rubbing your clit and your back arched off the bed, the sound of his name on the tip of your tongue as you slowly came down. 

You needed him. You were going to have him. 

You spent the next few moments trying to gather your thoughts and talk yourself out of making a bad decision. This could ruin your life and your relationship with your parents but most importantly, it could ruin everything with Joel. Not just the sexual stuff either. Being able to have someone to call in the middle of the night when you were stranded at a party and too frightened to call your mother, the memory of having your first sip of alcohol with Joel when you were eighteen, the way that he would smile sweetly to you whenever he saw you unloading groceries from your mothers car. It would all be ruined, gone. A new, uncertain, dangerous territory would arise and you would be stuck there, unable to go back on what you have done. But you wanted this more than anything, had dreamed about this endless time. If you could only have him for one night, then one night it would be. 

Before you could talk yourself out of anything, you jumped off the bed and ignored the pulsing feeling in your pussy. You reached over to the freshly washed laundry and grabbed a hoodie and a pair of leggings. As tempting as it was to walk down the stairs in nothing but your soaked underwear and an oversized t-shirt, have Joel peel them from your body before taking you over to the dining room table and fucking you, you had to have some class about you. 

The sound of your parents and Charlotte could be heard from your bedroom, they must have come in at some point but you were sure they hadn’t heard you. You listened out for Joel’s voice or laughter but heard nothing.. A part of you hoped he’d rushed off home to fuck himself with your panties. You bounded down the stairs with a skip in your step, excited for what was to come.

“Where’s Joel?” you asked as you came into the kitchen, voice laced with fake innocence as you smiled sweetly at the three of them around the dining room table. Your used panties hidden in the pocket of your hoodie. 

“Garage,” Charlotte answered. “Everything okay? Anything I can help you with?” 

Absolutely not. 

“Yeah, I just need to ask him something about Sarah.” 

“Before you go,” your mother started, stopping you as you made a rush for the front door. She showed you her laptop screen, a stunning spa resort on the screen. Nice. “Me and Charlotte were thinking about booking a weekend away at the end of summer, are you interested in coming?” 

“You really should,” Charlotte answered, not giving you a chance to oppose the situation. “I could always see if Sarah is free to come along with us so you’re not stuck with us the whole time.” 

You shrugged your shoulders and glanced towards the garage door through the kitchen window. Could you really be in close proximity to Charlotte for a full weekend? Especially considering what you were about to do. 

“I’ll think about it,” you answered with a smile, hoping it would be enough to satisfy them. “Anyways, bye.” 

You rushed out the front door and over to the garage before they could say anything else. As you reached the door, you caught a glimpse of Joel around the corner, your heart skipping a beat as you stared at him. He was so pretty, years of labour engrained on his face but he wore it so well. His hair was messy after spending hours running his fingers through it, most likely at annoyance towards your father for buying another car that didn’t run. His beard was unruly and all you could picture was the feeling of the coarse hair running along the inside of your thighs and leaving red marks in its wake. 

You coughed loudly and caught his attention. He turned around slowly, already trying to fight an erection at the sight of you and a seductive smile. “I want my panties back, Joel,” you began. You wanted to move closer, run your hand up his chest and grab the curls at the back of his neck but you maintain your dignity, for now. “They’re my favourite pair.”

Joel tutted and shook his head.“Not happenin’, darlin. They are mine now.” He threw the rag he had in his hand on the work bench behind him, eyes not leaving yours for even the briefest of seconds.

“But what if I give you something better?” You slowly stalked over to Joel and pressed your body up close towards him and fought the urge to not stare up at him. “Somethin’ so much better.” 

Joel watched with hooded eyes as you reached in between your bodies, your hand accidentally grazing his lower belly. He took in a deep breath and clenched his fists. He was struggling as much as you and you loved every moment. 

“You filthy girl,” Joel chuckled darkly, the sight of your panties having his cock rock hard against the rough denim material of his jeans. He was fucked. He took them from your hand and admired them with a glimmer of humour in his eyes but there was something darker there, almost worrying. He fondled with the material, his rough finger moving along the crotch and he audibly moaned when he felt the wetness.  “These are still wet, baby. What you been doin’ up those stairs, huh?” 

You tilted your head to the side and grinned. “You wanna’ know?” You asked, so sweet and sexy that the way you spoke went straight to Joel’s cock. You ran your hand up Joel’s chest and over his neck before pressing the two fingers you’d used to get yourself off against his plump lips.  “You can have a taste if you wanna’.” 

“Pretty girl - “ he purred, unable to finish his sentence as you pressed your fingers into his mouth. “Dirty girl,” he finished, his mouth enclosing around your fingers as he took in the faint taste of your previous orgasm. His large hand wrapped around your wrist, keeping you in place whilst he stared down at you with a fire in his eyes that you’d never seen before. He popped your fingers out of his mouth, “Always knew you were a fuckin’ slut for me.” 

You stood up on your tippy-toes as you attempted to capture Joel’s mouth with your own but he pushed you back, enough to make you stumble back into the bonnet of the car that Joel and your father had been working on. 

“Please, Joel,” you whimpered, sounding more pathetic than you normally did when you were around him - you wanted something to happen when you passed him your wet panties but this, well this was something else. You watched him as he walked over to you, an internal battle playing out in his head but he knew which side of him would win. You reached out for him as he got closer but he gently slapped your hands away. “I’m not a slut, i - “

“Ya  think I don’t notice the way you suddenly become a slut whenever I’m around? How I’ll walk into your house and you’ll be dressed in jeans and a shirt and within five minutes, suddenly you’ve got on them lil’ pyjama shorts with the frills on the bottom and an even littler tank top that you should be fuckin’ ashamed to be wearing around your parents,” he spat. He stood directly in front of you, one large hand reaching out to lay flat against your stomach as he pushed you further against the bonnet until you were practically laid flat against it, your elbows the only thing keeping you slightly sat up. “But you ain’t ashamed. You fuckin’ love it. Love knowing that my cock’s damn near bustin’ out my jeans all night, don’t ya?” 

“I didn’t know, Joel - “ You knew. 

“Didn’t know? See, you’re a liar as well as fuckin’ slut. You think you deserve my cock?” 

“Yes, please,” you moaned loudly without any shame. No concern for the three people not that fat from you. You were fucked if anyone was to come into the garden. Due to the placement of the work bench, you were thankfully out of sight of the house. 

“Why?” he asked, his hand running up and down your stomach delicately. 

“I’ve been so patient, Joel. It’s been torture, knowin’ you going back to her and fuckin’ her when it should be me you fuckin’,” you cried out, your eyes watering with desperation. “Don’t you think I deserve ya cock? I’ve been good, I promise. I gave  ya’ my used panties. Made myself come whilst wearin’ them, just for you, thought of you, I promise.” 

Before you could begin to process your actions, you grabbed Joel’s hand and moved it further down so it was situated in between your thighs. You had ‘forgotten’ panties and with your previous encounter with Joel, your orgasm and this current situation, you were dripping all the way down to the seam of your leggings. 

“Can you feel it, Joel?” you asked, voice soft and quiet. “Can ya’ feel how wet I am for you?” 

Joel moaned lowly as he slowly moved his fingers along your clothed pussy, the material from the leggings adding an extra layer of pleasure. You were already so sensitive still from your previous orgasm but you weren't going to back out of this. 

“I feel it, baby,” he grunted. “Fuck, ya’ so beautiful, so wet, I ain’t got no choice but to fuck ya’, have I?” Removing his hand, Joel placed both of his hands on each side of your inner thigh and split your legs apart so you were fully spread out for him. The action caused you to fall flat onto your back and you attempted to open your legs even wider for him. “That’s it, good girl.” 

Joel took one large step until he was situated between your thighs. His hands reached up to grab your waist and he moved your body down until you were pressed against his bulge, his hard cock pressing directly onto your clothed pussy. His hands tightened around you as he slowly rubbed his cock against you, his eyes fluttering shut with ecstasy. 

Joel felt so wrong. If someone was to walk into the garage and see the scene in front of them then Joel would be leaving yours with a black eye but how was he able to resist such a beautiful woman who was equally as desperate as him? He’d tried so hard to resist you, spent the last few years trying to purposely avoid you but there were times when he couldn’t, and he couldn’t even count the amount of times on one hand that he had to rush off to your parent’s bathroom and stroke his cock until he finally saw sense. This was his best friend's daughter, this was you. Not some random girl in a club that just wanted a quick fuck. This was quiet, pretty, sweet you. He didn’t even want to think about his wife who was blissfully unaware of his sinful thoughts, especially didn’t want to think about her when your hips were moving and creating more pressure on his cock. 

“Want more, Joel,” you whispered, eyes shut as you continued to grind along his cock. You definitely looked a mess but Joel didn’t seem to care, not when his hands left your waist and he let you take control. “Cock feels so big, bet it feels even bigger deep inside of me.” 

Within seconds, you were flung around so you were now bent over the bonnet, your legs dangling over the edge. Joel’s hands were on your waist again as dragged you back so your back was perfectly arched for him and arse up in the air for him to admire. His cock pressed against you as he shamelessly rutted his hips into you, allowing the sensation to go straight to his cock - and head. 

“Pretty fuckin girl’, told you earlier that you wouldn’t be able to handle my cock,” he moaned, one hand moving down to squeeze the flesh of your ass. There was nothing delicate about the touch, you didn’t mind. “But like I said, gonna have to fuck ya’, aren’t I? Wouldn't be fair of me to let you carry on like this, so desperate and horny for an old man’s cock that you gotta’ stuff your fingers inside your pussy every goddamn time I’ve been in the same room as ya’.”  

You’ve never seen Joel this desperate, all fury and hormones as he rubbed himself against your ass, almost as if you weren't there. You could do nothing but grind your hips up against him, waiting and anticipating and his animalistic nature took over. He messily fucked his cock against you, whispering sweet nothings out loud as the usual authoritative Joel slips away. His eyebrows dipped as his orgasm approached and suddenly, he felt like an eighteen year old boy again. He was no better than those college boys you bitched about. He wasn’t going to come in his pants at the feeling of your ass pressed against his cock and he certainly wasn’t going to sit next to his wife on the drive home and pretend that he didn’t just get himself off using your body. 

“No, no, no, where you goin’, Joel?” you whimpered as you felt the loss of his body against yours. You turned your head around and reached for him, only for him to shake his head as a warning. If you touched him, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. “Want you to come, need you to come, please, I’m so desperate, please. Can fuck my throat, please - “ 

“Shut up,” Joel snapped, taking a few steps back as he eyed you down like you were his prey. “If I only get to fuck you once, then it ain’t being like this, you understand? Plus baby, your parent’s are in the house, my fuckin’ wife is in the house. Need to be careful if we gonna’ do this, shouldn’t even be doin’ it but fuck, you right girl, you waited long enough, ain’t ya’?” 

You nodded pathetically as you stood up straight. “So long.” You were no longer the woman that walked into the garage and made Joel suck on her fingers. You were weak, desperate and a horny pathetic mess. Frankly, you didn’t care slightly about the people inside the house, not when you could see how hard his cock was. 

“I need to go by my office tonight and pick up some paperwork.” Joel stated, not looking anywhere else but at you. His cock was throbbing in his briefs, begging to be released and forced inside your tight, warm pussy but Joel needed to wait. He couldn’t do this here - couldn’t risk his wife or your parent’s walking in despite how badly he wanted to bend you over the stupid car. “You’ll be there, won’t ya’?” 

Again, you nodded pathetically. “I’ll be there.” 

“Wear a pretty dress, or skirt, yeah?” The sound of Charlotte's voice reached both of you at the same time and you took note of the way Joel grimaced - he wasn’t ready for this to be over yet. He was already counting down the hours until he could help you get over your need for his cock. “No panties either and I’m keeping these.” 

----

When you had woken up that morning, you hadn’t expected that this is where you would be but here you were, standing outside Joel’s office feeling like nothing but an idiot. You looked down at the dress you’d put on just for him, a pretty pink off-the-shoulder flowery summer dress, you looked cute, irresistible. 

You stepped inside, knowing the way to go from your previous visits with your father. Those times had been innocent, you’d sat in Joel’s office whilst him and your dad discussed whatever business they needed to talk about. This time was  different. You felt so anxious as you approached the office door - not bothering to knock as it was already slightly open. You had a plan to open the door slowly and say something that would have him dragging you over to the desk but you didn’t get a chance. Before you could say anything, his voice was ringing through the room. 

“Take your dress off for me.” 

You stood still in the doorway to his shared office with Tommy as silence occupied the room you were in. Not even a hello, straight to the point. Joel faced away from you as he flicked through some paperwork that was untidily placed over the desk, could he feel how desperate you were for him? 

“What if I say no?” you fire back, your tone of voice playful. 

Despite your voice showing some confidence, you could feel yourself getting smaller under the harsh gaze of Joel as he turned back to look at you briefly. The glance only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to let you know he wasn’t down to play your games anymore. Joel turned back towards the paperwork and sighed loudly enough for you to hear it from the other side of the room. Was his cock aching at the thought of having you? 

“Ya’ think you’re so cute, don’t you?” Joel asked rhetorically. “Did you listen to what I said earlier on? Did you wear your panties or nah?” 

You shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “I listened to what you said, Joel. Behaved myself. I’m not wearing anything underneath this dress.” 

“So do as you're told and take that dress off before I have to come over there and do something about it, understood?” Tempting. You watched as Joel strolled casually over to a sofa besides his desk. He looked at you properly for the first time and his cock hardened at the sight of you. “We shouldn’t be doing this, you know that.” 

“I know,” you said softly with a shrug of your shoulders. “But I kinda’ don’t care.” 

Joel stifled a laugh. “Me neither, baby.” He raised one eyebrow and nodded towards your dress, encouraging you to finally free yourself of the loose clothing which felt like it was stuck to your body. 

Standing at a distance from Joel, you allowed the dress to slip from your body until it fell lightly to the floor. You were completely naked for him, body bare and on show. Goosebumps arose on your skin as you watched him take every inch of you in, his eyes slowly trailing over your collarbones, down to your breasts where the nipples had peaked due to the cool air, down your soft belly which was gagging to be covered in his kisses, and finally your pussy. If he was any closer, he would be able to see the glistening in between your legs. 

“You think she’s ready for me?” 

“She?” you asked with a confused expression etched onto your face. 

“Your pussy, baby,” Joel cooed, his voice soft and loving. “God, you can be so innocent when you wanna’ be. Come over here, wanna see all of you.” 

You gulped as you walked over to him slowly, suddenly feeling anxious at the feeling of his eyes roaming over your body. He looked so hungry for you with his right hand rubbing against the growing bulge in his jeans. So pretty, you thought to yourself. 

When you finally stood in front of him, you looked everywhere but down at the fact that had ruined your dreams since you could remember. Maybe this was wrong but it felt so right at the moment. 

“I can see she’s ready, she’s so wet for me already,” Joel said, his large palms coming to lay on the back of your thighs. You shuffled forward slightly until his face was in direct view with your soft belly. Joel leaned slightly forward and placed one chaste kiss directly above your belly button. As you looked down, Joel looked up and the two of you were silent for a brief moment, just staring at each other and waiting for one to back out but when neither of you spoke out against what you were about to do, Joel continued on. “When we got this office, Tommy brought some dumb shit for it. Told him we’d never need a sofa in here but I’m starting to think that maybe it wasn’t a bad purchase at all.” 

“Why’s that, Joel?” 

“Because imma’ eat your pussy on it.” He said the words so casually that you almost fell to your knees there. “Bet you’d look so pretty with your thighs on either side of my face.” 

“Joel,” you hummed, hands automatically coming out to thread in his thick hair. A soft moan came through Joel at the action.

“What do you want, pretty girl?” 

“Please.” 

Joel gracefully pulled you down so you were straddling his lap, his large hands roaming along the skin on your back as he admired you. “So beautiful,” he mumbled, mouth pressed along the base of your neck. “Wanna mark you up so bad. Fuck if you were ten years older, not my bestfriends daughter and I weren’t married, I’d do such bad things to you, fuck you full of my cum till I was leaking outta’ ya’ for days.” 

“Can’t, I wish you could, more than you’ll ever know,” you whined, fingers gripping his head as the flurry of kisses along your neck went straight to the fire in your loins. “But you can do what ya’ said before.” 

“Tell me what you want me to do, wanna’ hear them dirty words come from that sweet mouth of yours.” 

“Want you to eat my pussy, Joel. Please.” 

Joel grunted before taking a hold of your body and shuffling you around on the sofa until he was laid flat and you were straddling his waist. Joel looked as desperate as you as he thrusted his hips up, shuffling you slightly along his body. 

“Come on then, I’m waiting for her. Been waitin’ on her for far too long.” 

Joel grinned widely, excited at the prospect of having his best friend's daughter come all over his tongue. Joel was obviously lying if he said that he hadn’t thought about this before but they were just taboo thoughts that he had, nothing serious, everyone fantasised, right? He almost felt ashamed when he left your parents house only hours before, cock still hard and leaking in his boxers as he pictured you spread across your fathers car. He tried to make conversation with Charlotte on the way back home but it was physically impossible, his mind clouded with the memory of you bent over your dads precious project with your ass in the air, basically inviting him in. But he felt no shame now. Not with you, straddling him and looking down at him with an anxious, but compliant, smile on your face - he was completely and utterly fucked. 

“Happily, Mr. Miller.”

You sensually moved your body further up his, pausing briefly to place your thumb against Joel’s mouth. You dragged his bottom lip down as you smiled down at him sweetly, the memories of your fingers in Joel’s mouth as he sucked them clean had you throbbing onto his t-shirt, sure to leave a stain in its wake. Before you could go any further, Joel gently wrapped a hand around your wrist. 

“Up here, now. You know what to do, doll.”

Smiling, you placed both of your hands against the arm of the sofa that was behind Joel’s head and lifted your body up so that you could move until you were hovering above his face. You’d never done this before. Sure, you’d had someone go down on you but never like this, never so intimate and never whilst you had been this wet. Joel was in no rush though as you hesitated above him. He would never force you to do anything that you didn’t want to do and he understood that you were most likely nervous - you was fucking your father’s best friend after all. The sight he had wasn’t too bad either, your pussy soaking and dripping just for him. So close to his mouth.  After some hesitation, Joel came to the conclusion that he couldn’t look at your sweet cunt for any longer and do nothing about it. 

Both of his strong hands gripped onto your thighs as he brought you down to his face and delved in, a moan coming from both of you as his tongue immediately started to lick along your clit in a teasing manner. You lurched forward at the sensation, your hands gripping onto the sofa with a tighter grip. 

“Oh, that feels so good,” you cried out, one hand leaving the sofa to grab his locks. “Don’t stop, please, please don’t stop.” 

Joel wrapped his mouth around your clit as he gently moved his head from side-to-side, he would keep you on top of his face for the rest of his life if it was possible. You looked down at the sight of him, so beautiful and sensual that you couldn’t help but moan just from that. Your thighs squeezed against the side of his face as you felt yourself relax into him, allowing yourself the chance to roll your hips and meet the stroke of his tongue. His hands grabbed both of your thighs as a sign of encouragement. 

“You taste so fuckin’ good, baby,” he purred before placing small flicks against your clits, starting slowly but becoming more distressed as your moans became louder and more frequent. “She’s so fuckin pretty, girl. Such a pretty pussy, so wet and all for me.” 

“For you, Joel,” you breathed out as your eyes squeezed shut and you stuttered forwards. Joel’s actions were becoming more ferocious on your cunt, his tongue having no limits as he continuously brought you to the edge. 

You could barely speak, only the filthiest of moans coming from your timid body as you continued to grind along Joel’s face. Worries about harming him were gone, all you could focus on was the unmeasurable amount of pleasure that he was bringing you. If his tongue alone could do this, what could his cock do? 

Joel didn’t need to hear you speak though. The moans and whimpers that blessed his ears was enough to tell him everything that he needed to know. You were gone when it came to him, would allow him to do whatever he wanted and just the feel of his cock against your ass and his tongue on your clit had done that to you. He wanted to ruin you so bad it almost hurt him. 

As you looked down at Joel again, your eyes flickering open for the briefest of moments, you noticed the cockiness that glimmered behind his eyes. 

“I’d do this every day of my life if I could,” he said as he lifted you up briefly. You whimpered at the loss of contact but also at the sight of him. His face glistened with your wetness, his beard drenched and lips swollen as he stared up at you. Darkness had clouded his eyes. 

You can. You can. You can. You wanted to scream at him. But he couldn’t. He was married. 

“Just shut up,” you mewled before reaching down, grabbing his hair and planting yourself firmly on his face. An animalistic growl came from Joel as he returned his heavenly lips to your core. His moans and whimpers vibrated against your clit as you tugged harder on his hair with every action of his tongue.  

You found a rhythm that had Joel’s eyes slightly widening but he didn’t once stop as you rode his face, his tongue and lips drinking in every drop you released. His tongue went from moving leisurely swirls along your clit to rough, mixing the rhythm up and having you yearning for more. 

His cock was so hard it was painful. He wanted nothing more but to flip you over and fuck you from the back, have you keening and arching your back for him as you screamed his name over and over again, legs shaking and orgasm so strong you black out but he needed this just as much. Wanted to have you flood his mouth with your arousal, he needed to struggle to breath as you put all your weight on his face and took what you needed, deserved. 

Your head was thrown back as you chanted his name like a prayer, your voice becoming embarrassingly higher. Small flicks that he left against your clit were becoming more distressed and the thrust of your hips was almost making it hard for Joel to breath but he would die happily if it meant dying in between your legs with his tongue pressing against your enterance.

“I’m so close,” you whimpered out loud, your cunt clenching around his tongue as he behaved like a frenzied woman between your thighs. His tongue was everywhere all at once and you could feel yourself start to build up, the excitement of the release making you tug on his hair harder as fucked yourself harder on his face. 

Joel pulled back for air, his breath laboured and eyes glossy. He gave himself a few seconds to collect himself as you made stared at each other, both so fucked out your brains it was ridiculous. 

“You gonna come for me, pretty girl? Gonna coat my face?” Joel asked, his words broken up due to being unable to tear his mouth away from your clit for more than a few seconds. “Answer me baby, tell me how good I’m making you feel - “ Joel cut himself off with a long, drawn-out moan as your hands returned back to his hair. “Keep tugging my hair.” 

Tugging harder and putting most of your weight onto Joel’s face was the only response you could give him. Your moans and whimpers matched Joel’s as he continued his tortuous assault on your cunt and you weaved your fingers throughout his hair, your fingernails digging slightly into his scalp causing a delicious burn. 

The burn in your lower stomach grew stronger with every movement of Joel’s tongue and your legs started to shake around his head. “Come, pretty girl,” he growled against your clit. “Come so hard on my tongue I can taste you for days.” 

You dissolved into pleasure as you felt your orgasm rush through your body, every part of you in utter bliss as lowly moaned out Joel’s name. His own cries of pleasures were adding to the orgasm, the vibrations rippling through you. His hands grabbed you tighter as he held you down, surely not able to breathe but frankly, not caring in the slightest. This was heaven to him. Being able to feel your thighs shake and stutter, your whole body clench up and the taste of your wetness gushing out of you and onto his tongue, drinking up every inch of you like he was a man dying - he was done for. This was perfection. This is what he had been craving for so long.

It felt as if everything had stopped as you gently moved your cunt across his mouth, the last of your orgasm sizzling out. You attempted to move off Joel and give him a chance to catch a breath but he pulled you back down, using his tongue to clean up the evidence of your orgasm. It was only when the pleasure became too much that you pulled him back with another pull of his hair, earning an almost silent whimper from him. 

“You did so well, baby,” he whispered as he moved you down to his lap and sat himself up. Joel’s hand moved to your face as he brushed some of the hair out of the way. You looked so good, so blissful and angelic. He looked even better though, completely fucked out as he tried to labour his breathing. 

You nodded slowly and pressed your forehead against his. “So good. Thank you, thank you so much.” 

Joel gulped and hesitated before speaking, “We can do this again,” he started, ignoring the voice in his head screaming at him to shut up. This was so wildly inappropriate but how was he meant to resist you after you’d just sat on his face and ridden him to high heavens? His heart clenched at the hopeful smile on your face. “Our secret though, baby. Can’t tell no-one, ya’ get that?” 

“Our secret.” You leaned back on Joel’s lap, expecting to feel his hard cock pressing into your sensitive core but instead, you just felt his soft bulge and a hint of disappointment hit you. “You not get hard for me, Joel?” you asked sadly. 

There was a devilish smile on his face as he watched you shuffle back until you rested on his lower thighs, your eyebrows pressed together. You undid the buttons of his jeans and slid your hand inside of his briefs so you could cup his bulge - he had wanted you so bad before, what had happened? 

Joel continued to watch you with a smile as your mouth formed into the perfect ‘o’ shape at the realisation of what had happened. 

“For me?” you asked sweetly as you removed your hand from Joel’s boxers, the remnants of his come on your finger tips. 

“For you,” he answered with a faint blush to his cheeks. “Made me come untouched, girl. All from those pretty fuckin’ hands of yours in my hair and the way you rode my face…” he trailed off and grabbed your ass, pulling you against him. “Suck ya’fingers baby, taste me.” 

You did as told, maintaining eye contact as you slipped your digits into your mouth and tasted him on your tongue. Fuck, he was delicious. 

“Funny,” you moaned around your fingers before letting them pop out your mouth. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to the side of Joel’s mouth, ignoring his look of confusion. “Told me I couldn’t handle an older man but it looks to me like you can’t handle a bit of younger pussy.” 

Joel chuckled as his fingers started to trail along the inside of your thigh. “I’m not finished with you yet, darlin’. Fuck, I ain’t even started yet.”

[vivwritesfics]

Drive Me Crazy

Chapter Ten

None of you are used to pack dynamics. Unlike then, it made you near feral. There's nothing more they want than to build you back up.

Lestappen X Reader

Series masterlist

Your arms were wrapped around him, staring up at him as he spoke. He always spoke to the Italian press, speaking on behalf of the both of you. If you were paying attention you would have nodded along with his words, made it look like you knew what was going on.

Truthfully, you didn't have a clue, entirely distracted by him. His arm was around your shoulders, thumb moving so distractingly against your arm. You couldn't help but stare up at him, at his pretty face.

He had entirely captivated you. And he wasn't even trying.

Suddenly, he was staring down at you. Not at the interviewer, not at the camera. At you.

Your insides did flips.

"Birdy," he prompted, his fingers coming to hold your chin. Your lips parted as you kept staring, searching his eyes for the answer he was looking for. You couldn't speak it, but you could nod.

He dropped your chin, made it look as if he hadn't been prompting you. You weren't great with the media, not like Charles. This was the first time you had been allowed around the media without your muzzle and shock collar. Well, when Charles wrapped his arm around you and pulled you in front of the camera, there was no way your handler could pull you away.

Charles thanked the interviewer. You flashed your teeth, hoping it was a smile and not a threat. Funny, isn't it? How smiling wrong can make someone look.

"You did so good, Birdy," he whispered as he walked you back into the garage. You were still holding each other, you were still safely nestled against his side.

You could confidently say that race weekends had become one of your favourite things ever. The energy it took both hyped you up and helped to calm you down. There was no better feeling than a post race nap, if you'd finished with a good amount of points.

Race weekends also meant Max and Charles. They were the only drivers who would talk to you, who didn't still see you as a danger. But it had been weeks since you last snapped at someone, and that was in your F2 days.

The updates you got on Carlos Sainz were few and far between. Just that he was getting better but he was still a long way off racing. Good, that meant more time with Max and Charles. Of course, the second the thought entered your head you felt guilty. No, you didn't want to wish ill on the man, but you never wanted this feeling to end.

Charles walked you across the paddock. The moment he left you alone, your handler would be there, leading you around like you were some dog. Charles led you around but with a kind hand, with his arm around your shoulders and a kiss pressed to your temple.

You walked past the other garages, taking everything in. The smells, the sounds. You loved all of it. Even the different languages spoken throughout the F1 paddock was fascinating to listen to.

Dutch. And a familiar Red Bull shirt. He didn't notice you at first, and you didn't want to bother him while he conducted an interview.

Other drivers walked past you. One lifted his hand and gave you a wave. You knew him, raced against him before. Nut that was when you were back in F2, when he was supposed to go to Alpine. But now he was in McLaren, having success most almost rookies could only dream of (his rookie year was incredible, something to be celebrated).

You waved back, eyes lighting up. At the movement of your hand, Charles looked down. He glanced at Oscar and looked back at you. He tightened his grip on you as his heart swelled with pride. You were waving kindly at someone, not trying to bite their hands. You had grown so much.

"Birdy! Charlie!"

You lifted your head, looked towards Max. The cameras turned to you as you broke away from Charles and ran across the paddock. Max opened his arms for you and you ran into them. Muzzling yourself against his chest, you hummed in contentment. Even if you weren’t racing, being around Max and Charles was enough.

Media day was fun. Media day with Charles was fun. But race day was where you shined.

You sat in the car, waiting for the light to go out. When they did, you were off like a rocket, overtaking two of the cars in front of you as you went into the first corner.

It was a drive you could be proud of. The way you were going, you were on track for a podium,maybe even a win. A win in your rookie season, you were bound to get a seat after that. Was that really what you wanted, though? A career in Formula One?

You blinked, clearing away the thoughts. Anymore thoughts like that and you'd end up in the barrier, hopefully gaining a bad enough injury that you wouldn't get back in the car ever again.

"Box, box."

It pulled you from your ugly thoughts. Box, box. You had barely done ten laps yet. Too early for you to come in, according to your strategy. So, you drove past the pitlane. Max was right behind you, and you were unwilling to lose the leas to him.

"Box, box!" Your engineer insisted. "We have to retire the car.”

"No."

You didn't realise you had said it, but the silence on the other end of the radio was a dead give away. No. A word you hadn't been able to say in years. A word you had been too afraid to say in years.

Suddenly, there was a voice, a French accent. "Birdy, I'm sorry," said Fred. It was so strange to hear your team principles voice during a race. "But you have to bring the car in."

It was easy to listen to Fred. He kept his voice calm when talking to you. He made you want to bring the car in. So, you did as you were told. You pitted the car, and climbed out, trying to hide your disappointment. Keeping your helmet on kept any tears from escaping.

Sitting in the corner of the garage, with your helmet on, you waited. You waited for the race to finish. For the podiums and celebrations, for the drivers to be weighed and for them to return to the garage.

You didn't blame Charles for smiling as he walked in. A win under his belt. But it was a win that should have been yours. No, that was no way to think. You were happy for him, happy he was one step closer to catching Max in the championship.

"Where is she?" You heard him ask. An engineer must have pointed, because the next thing you knew he was in front of you.

His smile was so pretty. You could have stared at it for hours.

Sitting on the floor in front of you, Charles flipped up your visor. "There she is," he whispered. He moved to take your helmet off, but you shook your head. "C'mon Birdy. Gotta get you out of this thing. As soon as we've debriefed with the team, we can head home with Max."

Face the team. When your car had cost them points. You couldn't do it. But the way Charles was looking at you, making you feel as if you could do anything.

You didn't protest as he undid the strap beneath your chin and pulled your helmet from your head. Your hair was a mess, you were a mess, eyes shining with unshed tears. Putting your helmet to one side, Charles pulled you to your sheet. He whispered something in French and led you to your drivers room. "I'm gonna take you home to Monaco with me," he promised.

***

You were beginning to like travelling in style. Sat on Maxs private jet, sharing a seat with him as you had a drink. Maxs face was hot, arm around your shoulder as you leaned against him. It was just your second drink, but the most you'd ever had.

"We're gonna get you in a good car, Birdy," Max had said as you flew. "Get you in a Red Bull."

You had shaken your head at him, you remembered. Your head wasn't fuzzy, but the world around you was moving slower than it should have been. No more driving. You'd drive in the place of Carlos, and that was it.

There was no plans for you in Monaco. You were to stay with Charles, you knew that. Part of it had you giddy, but then your handler followed you into the car. "Don't worry," Charles whispered in your ear.

And you didn't have to worry, bc Charles dropped her off at a hotel. You could still picture your handlers face as Charles drove off, leaving her behind.

That left three of you in the car. We live in the same building, Max had explained to you the moment you realised he was still in the car. There were a few drivers that lived in the same building, but none of them drove there together.

Heading up to the apartment, you expected Max to go his own way. But he was still following you and Charles. You weren't complaining, though. You loved Maxs company, his and Charles's.

Charles let you and Max into the apartment. It was spacious, tastefully decorated with pictures of the f1 cars he had driven. Family pictures, too. Pictures with Arthur.

A piano was pushed against the wall.

The door shut and Max dropped his bags. He stretched his arms up and let out a yawn. "Want something to eat, Birdy?" He asked, but you were distracted, looking around at all the stuff a real f1 career could get you.

Charles rolled his eyes at you. He just found you so damn endearing. He followed Max into the kitchen, kissing him for the first time in days. You didn't witness it, though.

After getting himself something to drink, Charles wandered over to the piano. He sat down and pressed a couple of keys. You walked away from the window, standing behind him as Charles began to play.

Your body began to move. Just small movements, barely noticeable.

"Shut up, Charlie," Max called from the kitchen.

Charles stopped playing and you stopped moving. A whine left your lips and you moved forward, coming to sit beside him. "No," you said through a whine. "I liked it."

You weren't aware of how Charles was staring at you as your fingers hovered over the keys. You didn't know what to press to make sounds as pretty as Charles.

"You liked it," he whispered. "You liked it."

You nodded your head and folded your hands in your lap, waiting for him to continue playing.

So, that was what he did.

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[michaela-o]

Hi hello everyone :D🧡

So a while back i made a post about Cybertronians witnessing humans being feral when in fight or flight response or how humans act when we are on adrenaline in general because i really like this idea. But hear me out- :D

Protective, scared and angry human = very scary human

We all have this natural need and drive inside us to protect. Wether it's the person we love, family or friends. I myself am very protective when it comes to anyone i love. I would throw myself in front of a bear if i had to. Or i would fight anything and anyone if i had to protect the people i love.

Now imagine if the human was the size as an average cybertronian: (slight warning for blood at the end)

The Lost Light got under attack by the infamous DJD and everything goes to shit so quickly no one has time to react as the deadly members tear through the ship and with Tarn having one goal in mind and that was to find Megatron. His optics burning with lust for killing him. Eventually he finds him and they both fight together. The human is watching this from the security office locked in with other members of the Lost Light. They all watch in horror and worry as they both fight. But Tarn doesn't play fair. As Megatron gets knocked by him the other bots notice as the human's breath quickens, their frame is shaking a bit and their teeth are tightly gritted together. Their protective drive has woken up.

Enough is enough..

You know what Megatron did..but no one has the right to take away someone else's life..especially someone like Tarn...Megatron was almost like the father the human claimed to never have..

As the human turns swiftly to unlock the door the other bots try to stop them but the human is determined and full of anger and adrenaline as they push past the bots who are taken aback. The bots are not fast enough as the human is already sprinting towards the scene where everything was happening. So many thoughts and emotions ran through them as they sprinted..anger, fear (you know because it's still fucking Tarn)

But no they aren't backing away now.

As they round a corner they barely make it in time because Tarn was already aiming his canon at Megatron.

The human suddenly jumps in front of Tarn and they srunch their nose and bare their teeth at him, their arms spread over Megatron. Tarn stares in disbelief and then he chuckles. You may be the size of a cybertronian but you're still a fragile dumb human.

"If you want him..you're gonna have to go through me first.."

As the human growled no one wanted and couldn't believe what they were seeing and hearing back at the security room on the cameras. Thats it the human has gotten crazy. NO ONE would do a thing like this. It's like you were asking to be killed. It's the DJD.. Even Megatron's expression almost changed to bewildered and wide eyed.

Of course the human got a good beating from Tarn but there was just something in them. This weird wild look in their eyes as blood dripped down their forehead into their eye and down their chin. Scratched and battered with at least 4 broken ribs they still stood with determination. Tarn was enjoying this but it was getting frustrating and on his nerves. Tarn is deadly and strong but the human was agile and quick. As Tarn was about to finish Megatron once again (because he thought the human was finished) they once again threw themeselves in front of him with this crazy look in their eyes and the next words rang out in everybody's ears.

"Over, my, dead body..."

The human was shaking, growling and huffing slowly loosing their strenght but reinforcements were quickly arriving and the DJD was in disadvantage so they had to fall back but of course Tarn would be back and would take the human with him the next time.

And this is how i think bots view this :3

From the cybertronian perspective:

The bots, often more concerned with survival and the war’s toll on their world i think would most likely react with shock. Tarn is a fanatic Decepticon who enforces ideology without mercy, would represent the last person they’d expect a human to stand against. They might interpret the human's bravery as foolhardy or even reckless, given Tarn’s terrifying reputation, but they may also see it as a powerful symbol that courage and conviction can transcend size and power.

From Tarn's Perspective:

I think Tarn, who worships Megatron’s original vision and detests any deviation from it, would be utterly incensed. The idea of a human—whom he views as nothing more than an insect—intervening to protect Megatron would enrage him. He’d view it as an ultimate insult to Megatron's legacy and to the Decepticon cause, likely intensifying his resolve to destroy them both to "cleanse" this offense.

Aaaa i hope you enjoyed reading as much as i did writing :3🧡 here i also drew a picture of the human so you could imagine the whole scenario better :3

[heliads]

wouldn't you love to love her? - jack hughes

The New Jersey Devils have a new social media intern. Jack Hughes is determined not to care at all, except for the fact that he does.

masterlist

“We’re getting a new social media intern,” Luke remarks offhandedly.

Jack tries not to roll his eyes. He’s not sure he succeeds. For as long as he’s been at the Devils, there have been perhaps dozens of new social media interns, one after another in a chain of pretty girls shoving phones into his face. Every time, it’s always the same. Another girl, fresh from college or in between jobs, asking him and the others to learn dances or take part in trends. Luke will flirt with the intern. Dawson too, probably. Even Jack, when he gets bored. Then, the internship will be up in a month or two, and they’ll get another one. Prettier, maybe, or funnier. And the cycle will begin again.

It’s not like he can really blame them, either. The hockey industry is precious, even for people who aren’t playing. If these girls want in, an internship is a great way to start. Any entry post’s a good one if it gets you where you want. Only, social media’s a pain. Jack came here to play hockey, not be in a dozen new photos and videos a day. It drives him crazy sometimes, or all the time.

So, when his brother tells him they’re getting another intern, he really couldn’t care less. Luke, more prone to fits of passion over the latest girl in Devils red, is still staring at him wide eyed, waiting for a reaction, so Jack rolls his eyes and gives him one.

“Good,” he says dully. “It’s been too long since I saw a phone camera shoved in my face. Can’t wait.”

Luke groans. “Come on, man. They’re fun, don’t give me that bullshit again. Besides, I saw you trying to buy the last one drinks.”

Jack can’t argue with this. He had been trying. It was something to do. “Won’t do it this time. I’ll leave that for you.”

Luke heaves another dramatic sigh. Jack wants to do something to stop the oppressive judgment, so he does, snatching the hat off Luke’s head and shoving it towards his mouth. Luke, predictably, nearly falls out of his chair and starts squawking indignantly. Jack just chuckles and gets up from his seat, heading towards the door. They’ve been idling in one of the cafes in the massive arena where they practice, called there early for business stuff that ended up getting delayed. Meetings always run late, and now Jack has the rare feeling of tardiness not actually being his fault.

He heads down the hall towards the locker rooms, ready at last for practice. Luke follows a few paces behind him, still complaining, something about saving violence for the ice. Bullshit, obviously. Jack does what he wants, where he wants. Hasn’t Luke figured that out by now?

Jack steals a glance over his shoulder just to rub in the injury. Luke meets his gaze and glowers, still pissy from almost taking a nose dive off his chair, but all of a sudden his eyes widen at something in front of them. Jack whips around just in time to collide with someone exiting one of the offices.

It’s not an accidental almost-impact, either, this is a complete disaster. Papers go flying. Jack manages to keep his balance, but the victim of his distraction is worse off. He has to fling out both hands to steady them, catching at their arms at the elbow before they fall over. A dozen apologies rise to his lips, but Jack only gets through about half of them before he actually looks at the person he’s just bumped into– and look, indeed, he does.

Jack has just run into a girl his age, and a very pretty girl at that. He gets lost in her eyes without even meaning to, captivated by the way the light shines in them as she opens her mouth and says, “What the hell are you doing?”

Jack blinks in surprise, feeling like he’s just been abruptly pulled out of a dream. “Huh?”

The girl stares at him like he’s crazy. “Why are you holding onto me?”

Too late, Jack realizes he never actually let go of her when he was trying to steady her. He snatches his hands away, the sinking feeling settling in that he actually has no idea how long he was standing there, captivated. No wonder this girl thinks he’s insane. This random guy comes up, runs into her, then silently holds her in his arms for what’s probably more than just a second or two? Yeah, that’s crazy in anyone’s books.

“Sorry,” Jack says again. They look at each other warily for a moment longer, then collectively, both gazes drop to the papers spilled across the ground.

Immediately, Jack dives for them, trying to gather as many as he can. He springs up again, and, not trusting himself to say anything that isn’t stupid, just awkwardly holds out the papers until she takes them. The girl gives him one last disbelieving glance, then walks purposefully past him. Jack turns and watches her go, wondering why he feels vaguely disappointed that she hadn’t stopped to talk longer. He didn’t even get her name.

Raucous laughter breaks out the second the girl disappears around a corner. Belatedly, Jack remembers that Luke has witnessed the whole thing, which is just great. The last thing Luke needs is more ammunition for making fun of him.

“That was, like, the least smooth thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Luke chokes out. “What the fuck was that?”

Heat flares into Jack’s cheeks. “Shut up,” he says, turning back to continue walking down the hallway.

Luke, however, is unwilling to let go of the horrific blunder. He trots up to walk by Jack’s side, regardless of how much Jack tries to pick up the pace. “I mean, Jesus. Way to make an entrance. Poor girl’s probably going to log that with HR.”

“Shut up,” Jack repeats through gritted teeth. “I’ve seen you do worse in front of fans.”

“We’re not talking about me right now, we’re talking about you,” Luke says happily. “I’m so telling Quinn about this.”

“You are not,” Jack warns, but even after many threats of serious violence, he’s not entirely convinced that his older brother won’t hear about this.

Jack almost manages to put the whole thing out of his mind until he and the others are hanging out in the locker room later that day. They’re all dressed, but their coach wanted a few words before they hit the ice, apparently something bureaucratic that Jack can’t wait to forget.

Instead of being introduced to a new friend of the owner or some wealthy donor, however, Coach announces that they’ll be meeting their new social media intern. Online presence is crucial for sponsors, apparently, and the Devils need to up their game. So they say. Jack thinks it’s a lot of nonsense, and is fully prepared to treat it as such until their coach beckons the new intern into the room and Jack realizes he knows her. This isn’t a stranger, someone he can ignore without another thought. This is the pretty girl Jack just ran into earlier today, and she’s the one in charge of most of his Internet footprint.

Great.

Across the room, Luke is grinning ear to ear. This is so not what Jack wanted. The coach is saying something about how they’ll all be pulled one by one today for introductions and a few quick videos that can be parceled out during the next week or so. Usually, they would ask Nico first, captain rights and all that, but they need him to advise on some drills, so they go for the next best– Jack himself.

They’ll be filming TikToks or whatever a few halls over so as to not distract anyone, so Jack makes his way over with no small amount of trepidation. She hadn’t seemed so excited to meet him earlier, but maybe she’ll have forgotten who he was. It was a fast exchange. Maybe this means nothing at all, and they will have a great meeting, and he could even get her number or something. Yeah, not a problem.

The girl is setting up a phone on a stand when Jack shows up. She glances once at him as he approaches, then nods. “Oh, we’re starting with Mr. Observant. Cool.”

Jack feels his face turn a bright scarlet. “I’m not– I’m sorry about that. Honestly. I just didn’t see you.”

“That’s fine,” the girl says with a listless wave of her hand. “It was funny. I just thought hockey players would have more reflexes or something, I don’t know. Anyway, what’s your name, again?”

This is a simple question. It really is. Yet for some reason, Jack finds himself bothered. He’s been with the team for a while now, had that A on his uniform for a while now, and maybe he shouldn’t, but he’s gotten comfortable with his reputation. People know who he is. He’s recognized on the street, asked for photos while he’s getting coffee, all of that. And now this girl– this intern– is pretending like she doesn’t know who he is, and insulting his reflexes to boot?

“Jack,” Jack replies tersely. “Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just guess?”

“Y/N,” the girl answers him. “What do you do on the ice except run into people?”

“I play hockey,” Jack deadpans. “What else do you want me to say?”

Y/N just smiles at him, the picture of innocence. “Your position? This is supposed to be an introduction, isn’t it? I have to make sure I have a good picture of the team.”

Fine. Fine. Jack can be civil. He’s going to play along and then he’s going to leave and make somebody else deal with her.

“Yeah, position. I'm an alternate captain, a center. Left wing. That matters.” He feels like he’s rambling. This is stupid. He’s stupid. He never does this.

“Sure it does,” Y/N says, one eyebrow raised. “Do you have to tell everyone you’re cool or just the interns?”

“Huh?” Jack asks. “I’m not– I’m just talking.”

Y/N nods. “I’m sure you do. Talking and hockey, that’s impressive. I can see why the Devils wanted you.”

“Your team spirit needs some work,” Jack notes. “Why’d they hire you, your winning personality?”

“That, and I’m wonderful at making infographics,” Y/N informs him breezily.

“I bet they’re terrible,” Jack says on instinct. “Clashing colors and all that. Can you even draw a straight line?”

Y/N cocks her head to the side. “I don’t know, can you shoot on goal without getting injured?”

Jack takes a step forward on instinct before he remembers that he cannot fight social media interns and backs down. Still, the anger simmers in his head so bad he’s not sure if the red all around him is for the Devils or just the film of rage clouding his eyes.

This isn’t good for him. His team needs him out there on the ice with a level head, even in practice. Jack forces a smile and says, “I guess you’ll see at our next game, won’t you?”

Y/N meets his gaze with a mirror smirk, which bothers Jack more than if she’d tried to one-up him again. He grabs his stick with more force than necessary, making himself step past her and onto the ice before he does something he’ll regret. Once he’s out there, skating broad loops to warm up, Jack can almost put the whole exchange out of his head.

Almost. 

Luke finds him after practice, because of course he does. Somedays, Luke swears that little brothers must be born with an innate knowledge of how to stick their heads into other people’s business. Fleetingly, he wonders what Quinn would think about that, then moves on before that lesson can settle in.

“I love our new intern,” Luke says happily on the drive back to their apartment.

Jack scoffs. “Sure you do. You love rubbing this in my face.”

Luke glances at him, surprised. “No, honestly. I think she’s great. Super funny, too.”

Jack turns to stare at him with disbelief so abruptly he almost swerves the car into a telephone pole. Veering to correct course, Jack spits out, “Y/N? You think Y/N is great?”

Once Luke stops pretending like they’ve almost died– which they didn’t, by the way, Jack had everything under control– he calms down enough to say, “Yeah, I do. She was super nice to me. I need to ask if she’s local so we can hang after the internship ends.”

Jack feels as if he’s been dropped into an alternate reality. “You’re serious. You really do like Y/N?”

Now Luke’s looking at him like he’s the crazy one. “Like I said, yeah. Why, what happened when you talked to her? Was she still mad about earlier?”

“You could say that,” Jack grits out, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

Luke chuckles. “That’s kind of funny, actually.”

“It is not,” Jack mutters, but Luke remains in high spirits the whole drive back anyway.

To the great amusement of his younger brother, Jack and Y/N continue to be at odds the next time the Devils have to film social media videos, and the next time, and the next. Even when they start off a meeting on relatively stable ground, something will happen to have them sniping again, and they’ll be at each other’s throats by the time they leave the building in the evening.

What makes it worse is that Jack is apparently the only one suffering from Y/N’s cold shoulder. Everyone from the captain to the rookies seems to have gotten along just fine with their newest social media intern, yet Jack feels like he walks around with a target on his back every time she’s in office. They’ve started to ignore each other instead of purposely tossing insults, but that’s as close as he’ll ever get to a truce.

Jack has started counting down the days until she leaves. He would love some peace and quiet. Maybe the next intern will be normal, or they’ll all be poisoned forever just because Y/N L/N showed up and changed Jack’s life for good.

God, he feels like she’s crept into every part of his world. He’ll be scrolling on his phone and the videos she filmed will appear on his For You page out of nowhere. Jack swears he can sense her in every quick cut, every box of text, every song selection. Walking through the arena, he sees her everywhere– ducking into a meeting room, discussing potential videos with some of the PR agents, tucked into the bleachers so she can watch them practice and snap some shots. Jack is starting to seriously wonder if there has ever been a time when she hasn’t been wound around him like a loose thread come undone from his favorite coat.

Even now, he can see her. Jack has finally left a late-night practice, breath fogging up in the cold evening air. He’s glad for the warmth of his car when he slides in. Luke went back with some friends, but Jack had wanted to hang around a while longer to practice some skills before the next game.

Y/N must have been working late too, because he can see her now, walking out of the parking lot and towards the sidewalk leading into town. Jack assumes she’s waiting for someone to pick her up, but Y/N’s steps don’t show any indication of slowing down. Is she actually walking on a night like this? Jack is cold just thinking about the weather outside. Y/N has a coat on, but it won’t be enough to discourage the bite of the wind.

Before he can even think about what he’s doing, he’s pulled his car alongside her. Y/N looks panicked when he comes to a stop, but relaxes somewhat when Jack rolls down the window and calls out to her. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Y/N shakes her head. “No, I’m walking back. Have a nice night.”

She turns back to the sidewalk, evidently expecting him to keep driving. Jack also expects himself to keep driving, but he doesn’t. “It’s awfully cold to be walking. How far is your apartment?”

“Not far,” Y/N says. “Twenty minutes, maybe?”

That settles it. “You’re not walking twenty minutes in the freezing cold,” Jack decides. “Besides, I thought you were dropped off. Isn’t someone coming to pick you up?”

Y/N pauses oddly, and it occurs to Jack that he probably shouldn’t be noticing how she gets to and from work each day. Still, when she speaks again, he’s pretty sure the annoyance in her voice isn’t directed at him, for once. “I was dropped off, but my friend canceled on me. Hence the walk.”

Jack’s mood immediately sours. That’s a shitty move for sure, and even if he doesn’t always see eye to eye with Y/N, he’d never leave her out here, shivering even after a few minutes of walking. And he won’t tonight, either.

“I can drive you, if you like,” Jack offers abruptly. He’s not sure why he does it. He never has before. They’ve never been in a position like this before, and maybe they won’t either. Still, he doesn’t take it back.

Y/N, apparently heedless of the gravity of this offer, just smiles and shakes her head. “That’s alright, I’ll just call an Uber. Thanks, though.’

Jack blinks and stares at her. It had taken such a rush to get the words out that it honestly didn’t occur to him that she would just say no. “Is this because you’re mad at me?”

“I’m not mad at you, Jack,” Y/N laughs. “I’m walking. You should get going soon, you’re going to disrupt traffic.”

“Fuck traffic, you’re cold,” Jack says disbelievingly. “Get in the car, Y/N. Please?”

She looks like she’s going to argue, but a particularly frigid gust of wind rips through that thin jacket and a moment later, Y/N is settling into his passenger seat. She turns to look at him, and Jack looks back at her, just a few spans apart. They’re close enough that he can see the flutter of her eyelashes as she blinks. Close enough that he could reach out and touch the slow bloom of cold on her cheek if he just tried.

“So?” Jack manages to pull himself together long enough to ask, “What’s your address?”

Y/N blinks, evidently startled out of some reverie, then pulls it up on her phone. Jack follows the directions, fingers drumming absentmindedly on the steering wheel. The car is quiet, and it weighs on him like a burden until he finally blurts out, “Why do you hate me, though?”

Y/N looks baffled. “I don’t hate you.”

Jack snorts. “Of course you do. You get along with every single member of this team but me, it’s a little hard not to take that personally. Come on, just tell me. Is it because I ran into you that first day?”

Y/N laughs again. It’s one of the few times it’s with him, not at him, and Jack lets the sound wash over him like sunlight. It’s a good sound. He wouldn’t mind hearing it again, maybe.

“That was funny. No, it wasn’t that. It’s just–” Her voice drops off, suddenly serious. “Do you remember Emma? She was your social media intern last summer. She’s the one who suggested I take this program, actually.”

Vague memories appear in Jack’s head. “Kind of? We’ve had a lot of interns.”

“Yeah, well, she’s one of my best friends, and the most important piece of advice she gave me before I started was to stay the hell away from you.”

Jack almost misses his turn. “What? Why?”

He risks a glance away from the road and towards her, but Y/N is keeping her head perfectly straight, not allowing herself to look at him in the slightest. “Something about you breaking her heart. She seems to remember you flirting a lot, buying her drinks, then dumping her for someone more interesting the second the internship ended.”

Jack winces. “That does sound familiar, actually. Sorry. I didn’t mean to–”

Y/N interrupts him with a wave of her hand. “Yeah, no, I get it. I love Emma, I really do, but she’s got a habit of moving quickly. Still, she was really hurt for a while. I figured anyone who could do that to my friend and not even remember was someone who didn’t need me to be nice to them.”

Guilt starts to pool in Jack’s stomach, icing him down to the core. “Still. I was a dick.”

“You still are, on occasion,” Y/N says, smiling slightly, “But I’ve been bad too, I think. I wanted to get revenge for my friend, but I’ve been more mean than needed. I’m sorry too.”

Jack comes to a slow stop in front of one of the notoriously long red lights of their shared city. As the scarlet of the traffic light washes over them, Jack takes advantage of the stopped traffic to hold out a hand to her. “How about a truce, then? If we’re both sorry?”

Y/N considers his outstretched hand, then nods at last and shakes it. “I’m good with that. Let’s start over.”

“Let’s start over,” Jack repeats. 

Her hand is still a little cold in his, even after the few minutes they’ve spent talking. It occurs to Jack that he could probably sit here for a while longer, warm her hands up with his, and then Y/N nudges him in the side and Jack realizes the light has turned green. He drops her hand hastily, turning back to the road in the hopes that she won’t notice the slow flush of heat to his cheeks.

The rest of the drive back is uneventful. Jack offers to walk Y/N to the door of her apartment complex, which Y/N jokingly calls creepy then smiles for real when he insists. They part with a promise to try harder next time, and Jack doesn’t think his feet have ever felt so light on the walk back from practice. He goes to bed that night like a little kid, practically giddy at the thought of the day ahead.

Looking back on it, Jack isn’t sure what he expected to happen with them after that. A celebration, maybe some fanfares? Or just a normal conversation in which she expressed how glad she was to see him and Jack could do the same? He doesn’t get any of that. In fact, they hardly see each other for most of the next few days. This isn’t too unexpected; although they love to complain, the players and media don’t see each other that often unless someone’s sworn on live TV or otherwise messed up their online presence.

Still, by the time Jack’s path finally crosses with Y/N’s, he’s really hoping for something special. He’s sort of crazy the whole time they’re filming videos, all raised eyebrows and hopeful glances, but instead of seizing the opportunity to make fun of him, Y/N just giggles a little and goes on with her life. It’s not bad, all things considered, but Jack– Jack wants more.

When hasn’t he, after all, wanted more? He wants to be better at skating. He wants to score more goals. He wants to stop getting brushed off by the commentators. He wants, more than anything, for some reason, for the pretty girl interning for their media department to do more than just look at him with a faint smile every now and then.

The sheer wanting starts to consume him. Jack goes out of his way to be exceptionally funny, astoundingly clever, practically fantastic in every way, yet nothing seems to wow Y/N. They’re just talking, which is certainly more than he had a few weeks ago, but Jack doesn’t want to just be talking to her, he wants to be back in his car again, with her leaning over and laughing at his jokes, her cold hands in his, telling him that maybe she’d misjudged him after all. Jack doesn’t just want more, he wants her, and that is making him insane.

Worse still is the fact that he doesn’t have her. Jack has spent his whole life, it feels like, hating the ‘pretty boy hockey player’ persona. He’s certain it’s cost him deals or trades or something over the years with the way people refuse to take him seriously. Yet now, Jack isn’t cursing its existence, but rather wondering why the hell it hasn’t worked. He’s still the same guy, same face. That stubborn acne patch on his chin has been clear for weeks now. He got a haircut, and people said it was good this time. Everything should be in his favor, looks-wise. So why doesn’t it seem to have a single effect?

It’s baffling, honestly. Jack cannot stand it. Worse still, the internship period is starting to slip away, and soon enough Y/N will be gone for good, leaving Jack to reel in her absence and wonder why he couldn’t make her like him enough to stay.

His mood sours whenever he thinks about it, which is often. Like now, even, in between Jack’s hours on the ice. They’re swapping out players in shifts, and Jack won’t be on for another five minutes or so. He’s sitting on one of the metal bleachers, hoping that watching the others will help keep his mind off things, but it’s not working too well.

Someone sits down right next to him, and Jack is about to start asking why they couldn’t pick anywhere fucking else to sit when he realizes it’s Y/N.

“Oh,” he says, trying desperately to sound cool and not bone-tired from practice, “Hey. D’you need another TikTok or something?”

“No TikToks,” Y/N says, smiling. “We can do a bonus one if you want, though, I know how much you love them.”

Jack chuckles. “They’ve been growing on me.” No reason why.

Y/N grins like she knows exactly what he’s thinking. “High praise. I hope you carry that spirit to the next social media intern, too.”

Jack sighs plaintively. “Do you really have to go? You fit in well, you know. You might as well stay a little longer.”

“That so?” Y/N asks, one eyebrow raised.

Jack looks away. “I don’t know. I heard some of the guys saying–”

Y/N cuts him off, lips twitching up into a smile. “I don’t care about the guys, Jack. What do you think?”

“I think you should stay,” Jack mumbles. He still can’t look her in the eyes. “With me.”

As soon as he says it, he knows it’s true. It doesn’t have to be through the Devils or not. He just wants Y/N with him for a while longer, to tease him when he’s being stupid and cheer for him during the games. He wants to hear her laugh longer than just the next few days. He wants to get coffee and buy flowers and match outfits and do a hundred things that would be special because he’d be doing them with her. That, more than anything, is what he wants.

A soft pressure on his hand; Jack looks up to realize Y/N has put her fingers over his, and squeezes slightly. He squeezes back by instinct.

“I want that too, Jack,” she tells him.

The smallest spark of luck is creeping back into his veins. “I thought you didn’t go for hotshot hockey players,” he says. “Especially not ones that flirted with the interns.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but she’s laughing slightly, so they’re okay. “I wasn’t supposed to do that. The idea was that I would try to avoid it.”

Jack grins. “How’s that working out for you?”

“Surprisingly badly,” Y/N confesses. “I’m not too mad about it, though. Something tells me we’re going to make this work out.”

“It will,” Jack promises. He’s going to make sure of it. Looking at Y/N, the light in her eyes when she smiles, Jack knows that he’s going to do everything in his power to keep her. He rubs his thumb over her hand, still in his, and cannot help but think about how lucky he is.

Y/N looks like she’s going to start blushing. “Let’s talk about this when all of your teammates aren’t watching,” she says suddenly.

Jack glances up and realizes that he’s on the receiving end of quite a few curious looks from the Devils still on the ice. Luke, especially, looks like he has several questions he wants to ask. Jack groans, mentally preparing himself for the absolute nuisance his little brother will become on the drive home.

Still, it doesn’t faze him for long. “How about we talk about it this Saturday?” Jack asks. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Y/N is breathtaking when she smiles at him. Jack might have to keep looking forever, just so he remembers. “I think that sounds alright to me.”

Jack opens his mouth to say something stupid like how he can’t wait, but the coach blows a whistle to usher him and some of the others back onto the ice, and Jack is saved from himself. “I’ll see you then,” he repeats somewhat needlessly.

Y/N nods, and Jack turns to leave. He’s still got most of his senses intact, despite evidence to the contrary, and Jack does know better than to kiss Y/N in front of his whole team and coach in the middle of practice, but– well, there’s a difference between what Jack knows and what Jack does, and today, he kisses her anyway. It’s good. Really good. Good enough to deal with the teasing when he finally makes it down to the ice. Good enough to keep him hooked until their date, and the next, and the next. Good enough for forever.

hockey tag list: @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[with-my-calamitous-love]

DON’T BRING ME TO TEARS WHEN I JUST DID MY MAKEUP SO NICE !

chuuya nakahara x f! reader

after a long and draining argument, chuuya makes it up to you in between your thighs.

smut! you are responsible for what you read 🪽

inspired by please please please

it was no ones fault, really.

it was one of those arguments that are really an amalgamation of many different things. that unwashed plate, his late nights and your early mornings, the way he brushes his teeth so god damn loud when you’re trying to read. it happens to every couple- not everything is sunshine, and you have to learn to love each other despite the things that may drive you crazy.

this should have been one of those nights. but it wasn’t.

you finally give out, surrendering your yells as the tears choke down your cheeks. he’s rescheduled this anniversary dinner about 6 times now, all due to his lucrative line of work. you were a okay at first, despite the nerve he had to make you call the restaurant almost all those times to cancel and reschedule.

“i feel like i don’t matter to you, chuuya.” you sigh in frustration, wiping away a tear. his eyebrows crease in shared annoyances, mostly towards himself for letting it get to this point. he’s tired, overworked by that jackass mori, and just wants to come home to you and feel your love. but he’s broken his promises, and knows he’s wronged you- despite how cocky he may be.

“i know, i know, i know, doll.” he groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. he hates seeing you cry, and hates knowing he’s the reason why. he hates that the dress you just bought is now wrinkled due to waiting around in the apartment for him, and that your perfect eyeliner and mascara are smudged because of your arguing.

he isn’t even sure why he argued back. he knows he’s a prick that hates being wrong, but he’s also a prick thats head over heels in love with you. he shouldn’t have pushed you to the side, especially on such an important day. his explanations remained the same, but his promises remained broken.

you eventually sigh in defeat, giving up and locking yourself in the bedroom. chuuya resigns to the couch, opening up a bottle of cabernet and filling his glass full. he tosses his hat and his coat aside, loosely undoes his bolo tie and unbuttons his shirts. if you weren’t sobbing over his asshole-like behaviour, you’d get to see his unreasonably toned abs peaking out from his shirt. messy orange hair hangs low from his shoulders, tired and missing you.

a few hours go by. chuuya’s had his fair share of alcohol, but he’s not intoxicated enough to miss the subtle click of the bedroom door unlocking.

he hesitantly walks over to the door, creaking it open to see you standing there. his eyes shamelessly roam your body, seeing how you’ve removed the dress and stripped down to just your panties.

“i was just gonna go to sleep.” you sigh. its not like he hasn’t seen every inch of you, anyway.

“wait.” he says, gently taking your hand and looking into your eyes. (impressive, considering you’re literally naked in front of him.)

you don’t say anything, but your fingers do interlock with his. it gives chuuya the green light to speak.

“…i’m sorry, doll. i shouldn’t have kept rescheduling and accepting you not to care. you do matter. it meant just as much to me as it did to you.” say what you will about chuuya, but he is a stand up guy. he’ll own up to it, especially if he knows its important to you.

you sigh, your lips curling into a small smile. its hard, damn near impossible to stay mad at him. “please don’t make me call the restaurant again, babe.”

chuuya chuckles, and you can see the remnants of the wine on his lips. he knows you’re only half joking, but he kisses your forehead in reassurance. “no, i have something different in mind.”

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

chuuya eats pussy like he’s starved.

he drags you to the end of the bed, getting on his knees and places kisses on your innermost corners until your sobbing, begging for him to kiss you. he’ll use his thumbs to spread you open, just admiring the way he gets your fluids dripping down. he’ll spit on your pussy, seeing how it runs down your already gushing core before he finally goes in.

slowly, he’ll sink down between your trembling thighs, his tongue darting out to take that first tantalizing lick. you arch your back at just that light contact, knowing you’ll be in for a long night. his hands grab your hips, blessedly holding you in place while he lavishes your pussy.

“your pussy is so pretty, baby.” he moans against you, closing his eyes and loving how warm and soft you are. he savours this taste likes its the last he’ll ever have. as intimate as the moment is, you both know he’ll fuck his cock into you filthy and fast later- better to enjoy the soft stuff now.

“je pourrais rester ici pendant des heures.” he groans with you, the vibrations sending waves of warm pleasure through your body. it starts from your teary eyes, than to your sensitive breasts, down to your stomach and the finally reaching chuuya in between your thighs. every now and then his eyes will open, looking up to see your flushed pink face, but he doesn’t dare remove his mouth. not until your soaking wet for him.

“chuuya! oh, fuck, please!” you whine, grabbing fistfuls of silky orange hair. he chuckles almost cruely, knowing that he’s not stopping any time soon. he does this just as much for him as he does for you, if not more. he loves the way you moan his name, how your pussy tastes. it makes his cock fill out knowing that he’s the only guy that gets to taste it.

“please what doll? want me to stop?” he asks, already knowing what the answer is. he teases you by slowing down his tongue, only touching your pulsing heat with just the tip of it. you almost cry, begging him to keep going.

“bonne fille, tu as tellement bon goût.” he praises you, wrapping his wine-stained lips around your clit and sucking in a way that gets you sobbing from the pleasure. you want to wrap your thighs around his head, pushing him deeper, but he keeps your legs nice and spread for him. “just like that, doll. god, you’re so pretty like this. can’t wait to fuck you so good later.”

you can feel yourself unraveling, and chuuya knows it. his tongue, lips and teeth move in a messy pattern, making your toes curl deliciously. you’re so close, almost seeing white as you approach your high. he does everything to make it as intense as possible, ending it off with one long stroke from bottom to the tip of your clit.

you wail when you cum, chuuya’s thumb rubbing your clit in circles guiding you through the orgasm. your chest heaves as he moves up higher, placing a kiss on your neck. “don’t worry baby, i’ll make you squirt tonight. just relax.”

safe to say that if chuuya was gonna make you cry, he should do it like this instead.

[elizabebabe]

𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐨𝐠𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ꕤ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡: yoga teacher y/n’s student has her thinking unprofessional thoughts.

minors dni!

| “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?”

| “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?”

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: use of y/n, pet name, smut with little plot, fingering, f!masturbation, fantasies, horny!y/n, lowk lonely!y/n.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1k!

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬: kicking off the remodel with a one-shot !! zabe loves yoga, zabe loves chris, mix em together?

“today we’ll be doing a few more advanced stretches, stretching out your backs, calves and any other tight muscles.” your voice echoed through the studio, your students crisscrossed on their mats awaiting instruction.

you had early morning classes every day of the week but wednesday was particularly your favorite since you got to see a certain student, his name was chris and yes he was handsome but he also cared about your profession or…maybe less about your profession and more about yoga itself.

he wanted you to help him fix his bad back, asking questions, asking for advice, you needed to be professional which is why all your attempts of asking for his number ended in failure.

you turned on your speakers, the usual calm, lyricless music waving through the room, also not forgetting to turn off the lights to give a more relaxed feel you always wanted to share with your students.

“we’re gonna start how we always start, savasana.” you scrambled around the room, stepping between bodies laying atop their personal mats ensuring everyone knew what they were doing.

you took 3-4 minutes to correct anyone making mistakes and marking who could use a bit of help, some days of the week you had kids joining in with their guardian, on wednesdays you have a pretty mixed group of ages so it can be hard to “grade”.

“alright, that’s savasana.” 

“come up to ‘mountain’ pose.” you continue, stepping on your mat to follow along to your own instructions, trying to ignore your eyes telling you to gaze at the brunette man in the front row.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

after an hour of tough stretches, your class huffed and puffed on their way out but one man stayed behind.

“hey.” he nudged at your turned back.

“oh! hi.” the interaction taking you by surprise as you never really interacted, “what can i do for you.” you smiled awkwardly.

“well, with the ‘cobra’ pose.” he hiked his yoga mats strap over his shoulder, “i’m struggling with getting my back that low, it kinda hurts.” he says with a cute, loose smile maybe embarrassed by what he’s saying.

“oh no! if it hurts, find a way to make it more comfortable for you.” you gestured with your hands.

“it shouldn’t hurt, maybe uncomfortable but it shouldn’t hurt—“ the rambling of yours continued.

he snickered which interrupted your words, “thanks.” he gently patted your shoulder before turning towards and out the glass door.

the embarrassment he felt now flipped on you as you wanted to crawl into a hole from the exchange.

⋆˚｡⋆୨୧˚

your drive home was silent as you sat overthinking about what played on your mind, ‘he just wanted advice, he doesn’t like you.’

‘why did he touch you then?’

‘it was a pat on the damn shoulder, did you see how fast he got out of there?’

you felt crazy as voices in your head fought over something so small, your key turned into the knob of your apartment door, remembering the exam you promised yourself to study for.

you were in community college, typically only having one class a day left lots of time to work on your yoga studio your parents helped pay for.

you threw your tote and mat to the ground, ignoring the thought to change into some of your loose pajamas and sitting at your small dining table for one.

the first few minutes of studying were fine, even taking off your fitted white jacket as you got in the zone. you were able to focus and concentrate on the work ahead of you but that didn’t stop the little voice in your head nagging about him.

you knew his name was chris or at least that’s what he filled out on the forms you had tucked in a random cabinet—

‘this is crazy.’ you huffed before averting your attention back to your notebook.

…

you scrolled through your phone immediately contradicting yourself by looking for different chris’s throughout social media — ‘doesn't he follow the studio's instagram?’

you scrolled through the following list before finding him, his handsome face adorning his profile picture and only a few photos on his feed, but you loved every second of scrolling through them..

adjusting yourself in your chair every so often at the sight of his beautifully crafted face, you couldn't help your fingers sliding past the waistband of your tight leggings that matched that thrown fitted jacket and quickly underneath your light blue panties that you could only hope chris would see one day.

your fingers quickly found your wet folds slipping through the slick and imagining it was the man from your front row, “you got so wet so quickly…been a while since someone touched you baby?” his voice echoed through your head.

the guilt you felt from thinking about him almost warranted you to stop but when your finger accidentally grazed over your clit you couldn’t stop yourself.

the actions continued, one of your fingers dipping into your soppy hole, another leaving airy touches on your clit.

it wasn’t enough, even with his face and his veiny hands you remember pressing firmly into the mat beneath him you couldn’t hit the right spots you knew those long fingers of his could.

but it didn’t stop you from trying, you pushed deeper into yourself once you slid down the wooden chair you uncomfortably sat in the position of your hips reminding you of when you instructed him through a certain pose even showing him a private demonstration, your fingers curling and grazing that spongy spot you aimed for, you remember that day, silently begging him to make a move, touch you in a any way but he never did.

trying to focus on your fantasy as you pumped into yourself made you wetter, “damn — spread open for me, on your mat?” you imagined him laying you down, taking his time while he undressed you, your drippy hole dripping onto the mat beneath you both.

“you’re gonna have to clean this later.” he says, scissoring his fingers inside you, eliciting a moan from your throat.

“gonna think about me when you do it?” 

“how wet i get you?” he continued.

“chris..” you grunted as your body buzzed and legs shook, you were close and all because you “stumbled” upon his instagram, your fingers picked up speed, vigorous motion ensued on your sensitive bud.

the rope snapping in your stomach halting your movements, your mouth agape and sweat dotting your skin.

a certain ’ding’ brought your attention back to your phone.

an instagram dm, a unexpected “can we talk?” from the man you finished all over your fingers for.

second smut baby !! and it’s about my man..

i hate this :( that’s why it took me so long to post bc i was debating whether it was too lackluster but i wanted to post something while i work on longer things, again thank you for the support on ‘southern belle’ and i love you. 🕰️

🏷️ @fratbrochrisgf @3lizaluvs @lily-strnlo @i-love-ptv @venusjaynie @jetaimevous @lizzysmith110 @firexovni @bagsbyclair0

i hope you’re satisfied with your purchase!

© elizabebabe

[dorabellingham]

Underwear

warning: smut; +18

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when you go to pick him up at the training center and things end up heating up along the way

may contain spelling and translation errors!

You were waiting for Jude outside the training ground. The sun was starting to set in Madrid, painting the sky a soft orange, and the cool afternoon breeze caressed your face. Dressed in a skirt that hugged your curves and a low-cut blouse that made Jude very interested, you already had a plan in mind. Today was not an ordinary day — You wanted something more... intense, more fun.

You could see from afar when he came out of the locker rooms, his short hair still wet from the quick shower he had taken. His white shirt was a little stuck to his body because of the water he hadn't dried properly. He walked towards you, with a tired look, but full of that familiar smile that melted your heart every time you saw him.

However, this time, it was you who had something in mind. You couldn't take your eyes off his body —The way his shirt outlined the muscles he'd just worked, his hair still messy from training, his strong arms that made you feel safe but also left you with other intentions.

When Jude approached, before even greeting him like he always did, you pulled his arm closer, making your bodies meet quickly.

—Hi, sweetheart...

He began, surprised by the gesture, but soon noticing the spark in your gaze.

—Hi, babe... —You answered provocatively, with a low voice, your face very close to his. —I was waiting for you, but... I have to confess something. —You said, your tone of voice getting lower and more insinuating.

—And what is it?

He asked, arching an eyebrow, already understanding that something was in the air, but without taking away his smile.

You moved even closer, slowly running your hands over his chest, feeling the tense muscles under the thin fabric of his shirt. You bit your lip lightly before answering, letting the anticipation hang in the air.

—I think I have a certain... desire to take you home now, but not just to rest, you know?

You said, leaving a soft kiss on his neck, just below his ear. The light touch of your lips made Jude take a deep breath.

Bellingham already knew what that meant. You had that way of teasing without saying everything, but doing enough to make him crazy with the desire to tear you away from there and take you where you could be alone. And he could feel it just by the way you touched him, how your eyes shone with a desire that you weren’t trying to hide.

—Do you have a plan, Y/n?

He asked, his voice coming out huskier than he intended, while his hands naturally went to your waist, holding you tight.

—A plan? —You answered, feigning innocence for a second, but soon laughing softly. —Maybe... Maybe I do. What do you say we skip dinner and go straight to... something else?

You slid your hands to his shoulders, running your fingers over the tense muscles and then slowly down to his chest, where you stopped, your eyes still fixed on his. The heat between them was growing, and you knew it. You knew the effect you had on Jude, and you used it with confidence, especially in moments like this, when every inch of your body seemed to scream for him.

—You know, you should be more tired after training... —You teased, your voice even lower, as your face got dangerously close to his. —But from what I see... —You glanced down at his body, biting your lip again. —I think you still have energy to burn.

Jude laughed, his voice muffled as he held your waist a little tighter, his eyes never leaving yours.

—You’re driving me crazy, you know that?

He murmured, the tension between you growing more intense. He was starting to understand what you wanted, and the truth was that he wanted nothing more than to take his wife home and put an end to this teasing.

—That’s the idea.

You replied, with a smile that was anything but innocent.

—So, what do you say we get out of here now?

He suggested, his voice low and full of desire. Jude pulled you a little closer, your bodies almost touching now, and he could feel your heat against his own body.

You smiled, feeling the shiver that ran down your spine just from his touch. You were anxious for what would come next, but you also wanted to enjoy every second of this anticipation, this tension that made you almost forget where you were.

—I think it’s perfect.

You said, holding his hand as you started walking to the car, both of you with smiles knowing very well what was to come.

The drive home seemed longer than usual, with the tension between you growing by the second. Jude kept teasing you with his looks and subtle touches on your arm, and you, in turn, were almost out of patience, gripping the steering wheel tighter at every turn.

Finally, when you arrived home, Jude didn't even wait for you to turn off the car properly before pulling you into an intense kiss, as if he wanted to make up for all the hours of waiting. You reciprocated with the same intensity, his hands going straight to your waist, squeezing you as if you never wanted to let go.

You laughed between kisses, pulling away for a second only to say, teasingly:

—Let's see if you still have energy after this workout, Bellingham.

He didn't think much, he didn't even have time to think, he just pulled you onto his lap quickly and practically. He was in the passenger seat, there was no steering wheel and it was more spacious, for the first time, you thanked the heavens that your husband didn't know how to drive.

Your hands ran over the fabric of the shirt he was wearing, and skillfully unbuttoned all the buttons, Jude sighed at the action and you smiled victoriously.

—You know, having you on top of me in this car is like being in paradise.

You laughed and began to leave light kisses on the boy's neck, who squeezed your waist trying to contain his desire.

—Paradise, Jude? We haven't even started yet and you're already like this?

He laughed and took off your shirt to access your warm skin, which shivered at his touch, you gasped softly and caressed the back of his neck. The desire was palpable and you felt the need to be closer and closer to each other.

The parking lot looked morbid, it was dark and there was no sound around, you internally hoped that no one would decide to leave now and that you could have that moment just for yourselves. Bellingham continued trailing kisses down your neck and his fingers ran over your bra, looking for the clasp so he could get rid of it. The small piece of fabric was really getting in the way of his work.

You tried to move and bring your hands to your back to help him with the task, but before you could do it, one of his big hands grabbed both of yours.

—Sweetheart, calm down. We have all the time in the world, whether it’s here in the car, in the kitchen, in the living room, in the bedroom... Anywhere you want, but let’s take it slow, enjoy everything, okay?

He unclasped your bra and removed the piece quickly, making your back relax as you felt the pressure decrease. You could feel Jude’s gaze burning into your skin, appreciating every little bit that was exposed, it wasn’t much, but he loved you too much not to appreciate anything. The piece slipped down your arms and he threw it somewhere in the car, you would probably spend some time the next day picking up the pieces from the car, but none of that mattered.

His mouth was half open, and he slowly approached the bare skin of your chest, his hands left your waist and went to your breasts and his fingers began to play with, as did his mouth that seemed too skilled for the region. You moaned softly and held on to the back of the seat, Jude laughed and the little air that came out seemed too exciting to you.

You weren't in the mood, you wanted to feel Jude like that and you wanted it now. Your hands went to his belt, the sound of the piece being removed along with your weak moans were music to his ears, if that beginning was heaven, this was the beyond for him. You pulled his pants down to his thighs, enough so you could sit on him, enough to drive you crazy.

—J-Jude... Let's get on w-with it.

He laughed, pulled his hands away from your body and smiled, his lips moist in a tempting way. You kissed him, grabbing the short, curly strands of his hair. Bellingham spread your legs, placing one on each side of his waist, there was only a skirt and a useless soaked fabric in his way, but it wasn't a problem, not for him. Jude pulled the pieces apart with his fingers and you moaned, almost begging for more contact.

—Jude, please...

You begged, holding the boy's wrist and trying to create some more contact with the area.

He laughed sadistically and placed a chaste kiss on each of your breasts, which sent a shiver through your body. You rolled your eyes when you felt two of his fingers inside you, the sound of something wet and your moans made him even more anxious to be inside you.

To him, it was almost comical how wet you got just by looking at him, it was comical how you tried to close your legs while he put his fingers in and out of you, but he was much bigger and you didn't have the strength for that.

The moans with his name started to get louder, the speed at which he moved his fingers also got louder and with that, you just wanted more. You wanted him to fuck you in every way, but the space was too small for the 6.1 feet tall man.

You squeezed his arm, asking him not to stop and to keep going at the same pace, and he, like a good husband, obeyed you. You came on his fingers and he could only smile at the sight.

—Sweetheart, you’re outdoing yourself every day. I can’t stand it much longer with my wife getting hotter every time I take her clothes off.

You laughed, still a little dazed, you could feel your pulse down there and stared at Bellingham with a look that said more than a thousand words, but even so, you wanted to say them.

—Fuck me already, Jude.

[paceprompting]

ugly christmas sweaters

written for ‘family dinner’ and ‘tradition’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no archive warnings apply | tags: canon era, post season four, some pining, steve harrington's subpar parents, eddie being a good friend for steve

@steddieholidaydrabbles & @steddiemas

Steve drove straight to one place.

He didn’t even turn on the radio, sitting back in his seat with one hand on the wheel as he drove in the dark through a light snowfall, toward an escape. He didn’t decide when to turn, he simply turned, and when he shifted the Beemer into park, he had to blink for a few moments to realize just where he’d taken himself.

Forest Hills.

Gravel crunched under his feet as he exited the car, but he only walked as far as the front hood before he stopped. Soft light shone through the windows, and for a quick second, Steve thought he could hear the bright sound of Eddie’s voice traveling through the walls.

He couldn’t just go knock on the door.

It was Christmas Eve. Eddie and Wayne were probably in the middle of their own meal, not looking out their window for wayward boy moping on the hood of his car.

What was he doing?

The metal was still warm from the drive over, and Steve sulked as he sat on it, staring at his nails while picking at them. What a sight he must have made, sitting in the dark in black dress pants, shiny shoes, and a white button-up with a paisley tie he fucking hated.

All the warmth from the drive was dissipating from his body in the cold.

And yet he still yanked at his tie to get the strangling knot away from his throat.

“Steve?”

He hadn’t heard the screen door open.

But he wasn’t startled by the sound of Eddie’s voice.

It was the first thing that hadn’t made him want to tear out his own hair or throw himself into the quarry. So many people saw Eddie as too loud, too crazy, too much.

Instead, he found that Eddie filled in this empty space Steve had no idea he’d had.

Steve lifted his head toward the open door of the trailer.

“Hey.”

The light from inside shone through the wild curls of Eddie’s hair, highlighted in a couple places with the red, blue, yellow and green string lights hung around the outside of the trailer.

Like he’d found himself doing more and more often these days, Steve looked Eddie over.

If Steve thought he was dressed differently than normal, he’d had no idea what he was in for when he saw Eddie.

He arched a brow.

“Nice sweater.”

Eddie held it out from his body with a big, proud smile.

“Made it myself,” he said.

Steve definitely believed him.

The oversized sweater was black, obviously—although the neckline was a bright shock of red. But that was pretty much where “normal” Eddie wardrobe ended. First off, Eddie had pinned these small, sparkly green garland-like things with plastic light shapes onto his sleeves. And all across the front was a random assortment of tree ornaments, from shiny baubles, to a glittery white reindeer, and flamingos in Santa suits.

Eddie closed the door behind him, and descended the few steps to the ground.

“I thought your folks were in town for the holidays. With your aunt or something?” he asked, arms crossed over himself against the cold.

“Two aunts, one freshly divorced with a shitty kid and another on her third husband.” Steve shifted up a bit on the car hood to face Eddie.

It was the first Christmas in two years his parents had decided to spend in Hawkins. He’d had no idea they were coming until he woke up three days prior and found them in the kitchen with their suitcases, fresh off a six hour flight.

And until that night’s dinner, the three of them had co-existed in an unspoken agreement of ignorance.

“Dad’s already three glasses of bourbon deep. The aunts keep asking about nonexistent girlfriends while the snot-nosed kid flings his food at me. And my mom’s been hiding in the kitchen cooking and nursing the same glass of wine for as long as she can.” Steve rubbed at his brow, giving a strained smile. “Family traditions, right?”

He could see the question in Eddie’s eyes—considering Steve and his car were at the trailer instead of his own house.

“My mom said I could abscond if I wanted. First place I wanted to go was…here.”

Steve hadn’t questioned it or argued—just left without even grabbing a coat.

“Well, then it’d be kind of shitty of me to leave you out here,” Eddie said, adding in some levity and a tiny smile back onto Steve’s face. He held out a hand, wiggling his fingers in Steve’s direction. “Come on. Wayne always buys too much eggnog and we’re watching Year Without a Santa Claus.”

“Oh?”

Eddie pursed his lips and bent forward at the hips, pointedly gesturing at Steve. “I think you mean, oh yes, the best Christmas movie. Thank you, Eddie.”

“Thank you, Eddie,” Steve echoed, sliding off the front of the car.

Eddie rocked up on the balls of his feet and turned sharply back to the trailer, leaving Steve to follow. Like his drive over, Steve moved on instinct. Of course he would follow Eddie.

Inside, Wayne sat on the couch, in his own tinsel-covered red and green sweater, nursing a mug of what he guessed was eggnog. He subtly raised his brows when Steve walked in after Eddie.

“Sir,” Steve greeted with a nod.

But whatever Wayne’s possible answer was, Steve wouldn’t remember it over Eddie bounding over from across the room, proudly holding up the most garish sweater so far.

In Steve’s direction.

Steve’s eyes fixed on the giant pipe cleaner Christmas tree right in the middle of the torso, complete with tiny gifts underneath. And the sleeves, striped with white tinsel over the green fabric.

Steve tentatively poked it.

“Are you just pulling these things out of thin air?”

Wayne chuckled, a harbinger sound of Steve’s fate.

“Hey, you’re in my house now, Harrington,” Eddie said, playfully scowling as he shoved the sweater into Steve’s arms. “Whole new traditions.”

[deadhands69]

Laundry Detergent

MDNI

loser!Shigaraki x reader

One last fic for the year! Happy New Years!! Contains: gn reader/maybe afab if you squint, cussing, pacifying loser/sub!shigaraki by sitting on his lap/teasing him, light choking, male orgasm. [quick read; wc: 1k]

Shigaraki has been in a mood lately, which means the whole league is miserable. After the last failed mission, he’s been taking it out on everyone and everything for a week now. Between his snide comments and sulking, you’ve all had enough of it.

It was all your fault, really. Or so he decided. If you hadn’t worn that scent he liked, it would have been fine. You know, the one he would kill for. The one that makes him want to drop down on his knees for you and beg you to touch him. 

‘My laundry detergent?’ you once asked. 

Yeah, that. Or whatever. In any case, it drives him crazy and it’s definitely your fault the mission wasn't going as planned.

The idea was easy, or it should have been if he didn’t have a massive erection stealing the blood from his brain the entire time. All he had to do was decay four city blocks. He only made it through two before running off and ducking away somewhere private to deal with something. Leaving the rest of you to handle his task and your own.

He wouldn’t admit that part in front of everyone else (or to you) but the passive aggression continued to linger through the week.

After the last meeting abruptly ends with him rage quitting, you’re left in a room of your coworkers (if you could call them that.) They all stare at you.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do,” you assert, “he’s the one who blew the mission now he’s pissed at all of us.”

“I don’t know, fix it,” Dabi snaps before walking out.

Everyone shuffles back to their own spaces, in varying levels of anger. On top of this, no one has been sleeping well lately because Tomura keeps you up all night barking at his video game and slamming the controller on his desk every time he dies. Which is often. 

It really has been getting to you all.

Later that evening, you’re walking past his room. The muffled sound of him grumbling at his most recent death radiates through the wall. And, like clockwork you hear the controller crack as he quits for the next five minutes to pace around his room in anger.

This has gone on for too long, you need to fix this.

“Shigaraki?” you try knocking.

No answer. Of course.

“Tomura,” you shove the door open, slamming it behind you. 

“What the fuck, [y/n] get out of my room.”

“Not until you calm down, you’re making everyone miserable.”

It’s true and he knows it. He doesn’t have anything to say in defense so he settles for dropping back onto his chair, crossing his arms, and glaring at you. 

Even when he’s like this, you get the feeling he would do anything you say.

“Do you want to tell me why you’re still in such a shit mood?” you ask, bridging the gap between the two of you to where your knees nearly touch his as you stand above him.

“No,” he grumbles, eyes shifted down. He adjusts his sweatpants in a way he thinks is inconspicuous, but of course you notice it. 

In response, you slide your hoodie off. Lightly grabbing the hem with both hands while you slowly tease it over your head and throw it on his bed. The fresh laundered scent drifting towards his face. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, looking increasingly flustered.

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “keep your hands on the armrests.” 

“Huh?” He stares up at you, eyes filled with confusion and nerves.

The same eyes widen immediately when you sit on his lap. Twisting your torso to press his face into your chest. 

You feel the drool of his lips as he gasps into the skin above your low-cut tank top. His chin nestled lower while he takes huge breaths. Inhaling the scent of you. His erection pressing into your ass as he tries desperately to hold his hips still. He’s not even trying to hide it anymore.

He could probably cum right now, but you have ulterior motives. You pull back and watch as his pretty lips quiver at the loss.

“Are you going to be a good boy and calm down?” you ask, index finger and thumb pinching his chin to force his face up towards you.

“Uhnhuuh,” he moans.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” he chokes out, “yeah. Anything.”

“Good,” you reply. “I’m not fucking you,” you say, then more quietly whisper, “at least not today.”

“Wait, you w- aahhhh”, he moans as you slide your hips back into the painfully hard bulge he tucked into his waistband. 

Your hand slides down his chin to the soft skin on his neck. Grabbing tighter than polite, but you know he loves it by the way he squirms under you. His hips jutting up into your ass involuntarily. 

Licking your lips, you twist your face to his. Mouth only millimeters from his and there’s nothing he can do but whimper.

Shifting your weight, you rub against him again. This time he gasps and grips his chair so tight you worry he might decay it. While he catches his breath under you, you watch the wet stain creep through his thin t-shirt. 

That was fast.

Smoothly, you climb off his lap and head for the door with one last glance over your shoulder to admire the mess you made. Shigaraki is so fucked out his eyes struggle to stay open. Hands still dangling over the edge of the armrest. You did good, you think as you head back to your room to lay in bed. The whole place is quiet. Everyone in the league really owes you for that one.

Ten minutes later, your eyes shoot open.

Fuck, you forgot your favorite hoodie.

m.list

[dollfacefantasy]

(you drive me) crazy ♡

satoru gojo x fem!reader x suguru geto

you and satoru haven't been getting along lately, so suguru intervenes to give you the guiding hands you need to come together

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, threesome, oral sex (f receiving), handjob, daddy kink/ddlg, mlm

a/n: wrote this as a request for my sweet lovely bestie @nexysworld <3

"'Toru quit it," you whine from the living room.

Suguru could hear the sounds of your protests coming from down the hall where you and Satoru were hanging out. He listens closer from his place in the bedroom for the other man's response, trying to discern if the conflict was playful or not. 

The past week or so, you two had been getting into it pretty often. They weren't serious disputes; usually just Satoru bossing you around or going too far with his jokes. He had power over you in your relationship dynamic, and that was how he played with it. Still, Suguru felt the need to intervene if his jabs got too rough for you. You were delicate while you were in a submissive mood. Feeling small meant you were too sensitive to handle teasing beyond what you knew was part of the game.

"Why would I quit when you're liking it so much?" Satoru taunts, "I can feel those pretty nipples getting hard, princess."

A series of whimpers drift down the hall to Suguru's ears. It was honestly hard for him to tell if the two of you were playing around or not. The little spats never stemmed from actual trouble between you three, but he wanted to make sure it stayed that way. He knew Satoru would figure it out with you soon enough, but for now, this dynamic was still new to him.

There's some more giggles and whines before you sharply yelp "Ow!"

Satoru laughs and then there's a little scuffle.

"You're such an asshole! Give it back!" you say.

Suguru sighs. It's as if he can already see Satoru's long arm stretched upwards, holding something out of reach. He gets up and heads toward the commotion.

"What? Are you too little to reach it?" Satoru mocks, "You weren't even paying attention anyways."

"That doesn't matter! I had it on cause I wanted it on," you say.

Suguru walks into the room and stands there momentarily, taking in the situation before him. His boyfriend was stretched back into the corner of the couch while his girlfriend was climbing all over him trying to reach the tv remote he dangled above them.

"Quit being a whiny brat," Satoru continues, giving your face a gentle shove with his other hand.

"Enough," Suguru interjects.

His voice is all it takes to snatch both of your attention. You turn around on top of Satoru while his head straightens up to look at the dark-haired man. You both know from the look on his face and the cadence of his voice that he's not in the mood for back talk.

At least you think you both know that. But Satoru decides to chance it anyway.

"Oh, she's fine. She was just being a big baby," he says with a roll of his eyes.

"From what I could hear, the both of you were being petulant brats," Suguru corrects.

It's almost as if you can see a gray cloud form over Satoru's head upon hearing that.

Suguru approaches the couch and sits at the end opposite the two of you. He grabs you by your hips and pulls you into his lap, leaning you against his chest and holding you close.

"Turn off the tv," he directs. 

Satoru actually obeys this time and clicks the power button before setting the remote on the table. His eyes return to the other man, both waiting to see his next move and wanting to be involved with whatever it is. He even scoots a little closer to ensure he won't be left out.

You're still glaring daggers at him, but the man holding you puts a quick end to it with a light tap to your nose.

"None of that," he chides, "I want the two of you to start getting along. There's no need for all the petty fighting."

"He's always being a dick-" you start before being promptly cut off.

"Watch your language," he tells you with a sharp look. "Good girls don't use words like that."

You tear your eyes away with a huff to spare yourself from seeing the smug quirk in Satoru's lip.

Suguru sighs and leans back into the cushions of the couch, keeping you close to him. Soothingly, he rubs the small of your back while shaking his head. His other hand stretches out to run through Satoru's white hair and massage his scalp.

"What am I going to do with the two of you? There's no reason for you to be bickering so much. You aren't in competition with one another," Suguru starts, speaking matter of factly.

He's relieved to receive no pushback on that point. Your eyes stay aimed up at him obediently while you relax in his lap, and Satoru's head melts against his hand as he rubs his head. His hand falls to the other man's jawline, sweeping down in and brushing his thumb over his plush lips.

"Come a little closer, pretty boy," he says. He knew the instant effect his voice uttering that pet name would have. He could all but see Satoru's pupils dilate.

Just as had been requested of him, the light-haired man inches closer so that his legs touch yours and Suguru's.

"The two of you are going to learn to behave together. I don't have the energy to put up with both of you acting so fussy all the time," he tells the both of you.

"But daddy-" you start to whine. You had to clear your name and make sure he knew that this was mostly Satoru's fault.

"Ah ah," he hushes you and leans in to quiet you with a brief kiss. Of course, Suguru knew a majority of the blame fell on the other man's shoulders. But he also knew that man in question, and he knew that he would never acquiesce if he felt defensive. "Show me you know how to act, sweet girl."

A grumble of frustration rumbles in your chest, but you simply lean into the kiss and move your lips with his. He's soft like always, smells so so good. Every breath you take lets him take over your senses. Every time, he was so easy to fall into. You swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, but as you're ready to go deeper, he pulls away.

"I think Satoru deserves a turn, baby," he chuckles lowly.

Your eyes glance over at your tormenter who'd been watching the whole time, analyzing every little movement between you and Suguru. You wanted to insist that no, actually, he did not deserve a turn. But that's something Satoru would do, and you're smarter than him so you control your pettiness for now.

Suguru brushes his thumb over your lip to wipe away some saliva before he turns his head and guides Satoru in for kisses similar to the ones he'd given you. The two men move their lips together with almost divine synchrony. Always the neediest of the group, Satoru moans quietly and scoots even closer to you and Suguru.

You watch them, and as you take in how they meld into one, you remember why the three of you do this. Because you can't stay mad when watching your lovers look so beautiful with one another. You can't hate Satoru when he looks so pretty with his skin tinged pink and his white lashes dusting his cheeks. You can't resent him when all you want is to make him feel the same way.

With Suguru, the rule always was once he had touched you, you were then allowed to touch him. So you lean in and nose at his neck, latching your lips onto his warm skin next. Being so close, you can hear the rhythm of his breathing stutter at the feeling. He stays focused on the one he's kissing until he catches sight of what you're doing and follows suit.

He occupies the other side of Suguru's throat and lavishes teasing kisses onto it. The man in the middle sighs and tilts his head back to give the both of you more room.

"There you go. Working together for daddy just like you're supposed to," he mutters.

Your hand slides onto Suguru's lap as Satoru's does the same. Fingertips brush against each other in the middle, a gentle reminder of why you loved Satoru too despite all the grief he caused you.

The touch pulls you together like magnets. Both of your lips glide over his throat to the center near his Adam's apple. You're both still focused on him, but then you aren't sure if Satoru's tongue flicks yours or if it's yours that brushes against his. Either way, your lips end up coming together and tangling the two of you in a series of kisses.

You lean away from Suguru's throat a bit. Satoru's hands cup your cheeks and keep you within his range. The man who had been the center of attention peers up and smirks at the two of you. He watches your tongues explore each other's mouths, watches as hands get grabby and breaths become bated. His hands stroke down the back of your heads like the delicate things he sees you as.

"Good babies," he coos, "It's more fun when you're playing nice."

But make no mistake, Suguru wasn't going to be left out of this little moment. He guides your chins upwards and presses his lips to the spot where yours meet. The intrusion is awkward for a split second, but it quickly becomes welcome. Satoru turns his head and engulfs the other man's lips in a kiss while wrapping his arm around your waist and keeping you close.

The three of your mouths move together. All sets of lips find a rhythm and always have their place in the mix. It's messier kissing with an extra person, but you like it that way. You like Satoru's breath chilling the skin coated in Suguru's spit. You like having his tongue in your mouth while your other lover nips at his bottom lip. You like feeling his slender fingers dig into your hip while Suguru's bulge swells beneath your ass. 

You squirm your hips, providing some friction to the growing erection, but his hands still your movements.

"Not yet, pretty girl," Suguru coos. He pulls back from the threeway kiss looking a little flush himself. His lips are puffed up like yours and Satoru. The main difference between him and the other man is that Satoru's eyes are completely clouded with lovesickness.

"I think Satoru owes you a little apology for teasing, hm?" he asks.

Thanks to his hazy state of mind, his reaction is a bit delayed, but once Satoru registers those words, he whines. 

"We made up. She doesn't want an apology," he says before looking at you, "Right?"

Your mind is a little fogged up from the heat of kisses. The desire for revenge had faded, but the memory of its intensity made you pause to consider siding against him.

Though before you can, Suguru swoops in.

"You did make up, but I want that to last this time. I don't want the two of you fighting again thirty minutes after I make the both of you cum," he chides, "I want you to remember that when our baby feels good, you feel good too."

You watch the resistance die in Satoru's eyes, suffocating under the mist of pure adoration he has for the man in front of him. Suguru strokes his jaw and returns the gaze, keeping him hanging on each word he says.

"Lay back for me, baby boy," he says gently.

Satoru obliges and leans back, spreading his long body across the couch. He tugs off his shirt and exposes the pale, muscular expanse of his chest to your eyes. Like always, he looked so pretty. He'd be gorgeous enough to make you jealous if you didn't love him so much yourself.

Suguru bounces you on his knee a few times to get your attention back on him. His hand rubs up and down your thigh soothingly as he leans in, speaking in the voice that lets you know his words are for you.

"Now Satoru's gonna make it up to you, sweetheart. After this, I want no more petty arguments, understand? I know he goes too far when he teases, but you need to try and work with me, ok?" he says, every word cooed at you like it'd be too difficult to understand otherwise.

"Ok daddy," you agree, your own voice softening as you're lulled into that soft, docile head space.

"Good girl," he praises as he pecks your temple, "I want you to go sit on Satoru's face. Think you can do that for daddy?"

You shoot a glance at Satoru whose eyes are on you and Suguru. The tent in his pants is on full display from this angle. It makes your mouth water, but you know better than to question daddy's plans.

"Mhm," you hum with a lazy nod.

"Perfect."

With that, Suguru boosts you to your feet. He helps pull your panties down and lets you hold his shoulder for balance while you step out of them. Then he takes your shirt off for you, kisses up your tummy and onto each breast.

"Alright, honey. Climb on," he says, giving you a pat on the ass and guiding you in Satoru's direction.

You crawl onto the other man's body, scooting up over his abdomen and pausing at his chest. You look down at his lust-blown eyes. The agreement had been made between you and Suguru, but it's Satoru's hands that pull you forward and get you hovering right above his face.

"No need to wait," Suguru directs from behind you.

That's all the man below you needs to hear before yanking you down and latching his mouth onto your cunt.

Your knees dig into the couch and you clutch the armrest in front of you for support. Being needy brought eagerness as well for Satoru. He loved receiving pleasure, but if giving it was how he could be the center of attention, he gave his all to that just the same. 

Suguru honors Satoru's dedication by tugging down his pants and letting his hard cock spring free. He boosts his hips to make it easier to get his clothes all the way off. His dick is leaky and flushed, resting against his pelvis, pulsing with the desire to be touched.

His lips engulf your pussy as he makes out with it, wanting every inch in his possession. His tongue laps over the length of it as if he's running out of time. He kisses your clit and laves at your entrance. The way he grips your thighs makes you feel as though you're being used as an instrument of suffocation

"Easy, Satoru," Suguru chuckles, stroking his smooth inner thigh.

He whines against your sex at the feather light touches, his hips buck involuntarily, so desperate for something to thrust into. The sound reverberates through you, sending a shudder up your spine.

"Daddy!" you whine for Suguru. Your arm sticks out behind you, flailing in a fruitless attempt to grab his hand.

He knows what you're doing as soon as he hears that whine. You always did this, always wanted Suguru to coddle you when things got the slightest bit intense.

"No no, baby," he tuts, "Daddy can't reach from here. Why don't you hold Satoru's hand instead?"

As soon as the words hit your ears, your pleasured mind decides that solution is good enough. Your fingers fly to your leg and pry Satoru's hand off so you can hold it. He doesn't complain at all, giving your palm a tight, reassuring squeeze.

Suguru watches, satisfied at the two of you getting along. He rewards Satoru's squeeze with one of his own, his fingers wrapping around his shaft. He gives it a few gentle pumps, relishing the guttural groans that come from between your thighs.

"Good boy," he coos, "You see what happens when you're nice to our girl? Daddy makes you feel good too."

You feel him nodding as he licks. His tongue never stops working on you. The warm wetness slides through your slick, swirls over your sensitive spots. You hold his hand like a lifeline. Your thighs tremble with the urge to clamp around his head.

"Daddy wants both his babies to feel good," Suguru continues from behind you while stroking Satoru's cock, "Is he doing a good job, baby girl?"

"Y-yeah," you choke out and look down at the mop of white hair exploding from the apex of your thighs. You can see those bright, blue eyes beaming up at you too. They're drooping with lust, dazed with the desire to please.

He moans while sucking on your clit. A ways down, Suguru spit down onto his hand as he fists Satoru's cock. The noises from his motions start to grow louder, his dick glistening with the mixture of saliva and precum spread over it.

"Keep going, Satoru. Make her cum, and daddy'll make you cum too," he coos.

His hand continues to jerk his cock with fluid motions. His thumb swipes over the dripping tip as Satoru's tongue prods your entrance. You grind your hips down into the blissful sensation. It starts with gentle rocking, but it's soon full-fledged humping.

"Oh, she likes that," he croons, "Look at you go, baby. You're gonna wear yourself out early riding his face so fast."

"Can't stop daddy," you mewl, "Feels too good."

You want to say more, but thoughts vanish from your brain faster than your hips are moving. You feel release blossoming in your belly. Your free hand laces itself between Satoru's locks to hold onto another part of him.

"Daddy, gonna cum," you whine.

"Alright, sweetheart. You can cum," he tells you before giving Satoru's dick a squeeze to indicate his words are now for him, "As soon as she's cum, you can cum too."

The words get Satoru working twice as fast. The tip of his tongue serpentines over your swollen bundle of nerves before suckling on it and flicking at the bud.

Your body goes taut, and it only takes a few more skilled touches to strike the right chord. Your back arches and the shriek you let out is high enough to break glass. You hold Satoru's hand so tight, it's possible you've shattered a couple bones.

Your hips swing back and forth with a mind of their own. Only one goal in mind, prolonging your high for as long as possible. Your eyes droop and gloss up, and everything starts feeling soft and warm.

Satoru can feel you swaying above him, but his hand splays across the small of your back to keep you up right. It stays there until you finish, and Suguru can guide you back into his lap. You watch him jerk off Satoru closer to the edge.

His fist twists languidly, stroking up and down in a perfect rhythm. You glance at Satoru's face. You watch him bite his lip as his features contort with ecstasy. He looks fucked out despite not having cum at all yet.

"Come on, sweet boy. Let me see it," Suguru coos, "You deserve this. You deserve your reward for making her feel so good."

The other man whines, but his hips start to jerk. You watch the first rope of cum spurt out onto his tummy. More follow and his legs squirm with the feeling of release.

"That's it. Cumming for your daddy just like a good boy should," Suguru says.

Once Satoru's ridden out his orgasm, you look up at Suguru for permission to love on him a bit more. He smiles at you, both for your intention and your inclination to ask for approval. Approval that he gives you, of course.

You crawl up the other man's side and snuggle in next to him, nuzzling his neck. He turns and presses some hazy kisses to your face. He doesn't want to get his hopes up too early, but Suguru is really starting to believe this one will be the time that lasts. He rises to his knees and haphazardly situates your legs into a more accessible position.

"You just stay right there, angel. Daddy's gonna fuck that pretty princess cunt, and Satoru can clean us up again if he wants," he says.

You turn your head to look up into the piercing set of blue eyes. From the glint they hold, you know he'll want to.