#“leaving” the crowd goes wild

[em-xzm]

Andrew ate everyone up with his singular line in the sunshine court, a true icon.

[crimsononiarataki]

"Why are people tryin' to eat the catcakes? They're livin' creatures leave 'em alone."

Did the Oni need to go down there and guard the little creatures himself? He'd do so without hesitation.

[singlepringle2023]

not to agree with will buxton about anything but max complaining about unnecessary risk taking really does send a chuckle through my soul. like my brother in christ the unnecessary risk is in the room with us right now. there is a mirror on your left for further clarification 🙏

[t4tbedehopmar]

GOOD MORNING AND HAPPY 1ST ANNIVERSARY TO REBEL IN RIVALRY!!!!!!!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

[screampied]

ʚ FINISH INSIDE HER ?! ɞ

ᡴꪫ sum. what the hell is a full nelson? no worries, luckily underground boxer toji shows you a hands-on demonstration. although, you want choso to try it with you too. not only are you a slut visual learner, but you also think you can take them both - not in a fight though.

wc. 5.8k

warnings. fem! reader, boxer! au, boxers toji & choso, 3sum, choso walks in on you and toji, unprotected, full nelson, manhandling, brief ōral (f + m), quickie, size diff, finger sucking, praise, dirty talk, choking, they fight over you, whiny choso, squırting, impact play, slight nıpple play, premature ejac, spıt.

an. kind of based on this ask!

“upsie daisey, uh huh. biiiiig fuckin’ stretch,” your mouth drops open once your thighs gets sprawled apart. your back slumps back against the fighter — toji, you’ve been training with him for a while. not only were you training with him but you’ve also been a bit of a fan. you mentioned to him on how you wanted to strengthen your ‘flexibility’ a bit more and of course, he had just the right thing to help you. out of curiosity, you asked him about a certain position you watched him perform on his rival, choso kamo. full nelson, it was considered illegal in some rings if not all. toji would always perform a specific choking move where he’d pin choso down with ease, burly buff arms putting him in a head lock - preventing him from moving a single inch. the entire crowd always goes wild at it every single time—so you wanted to try it out for yourself. “easy, easy. don’t tap out on me jus’ yet, okay? y’er a big girl.”

bobbling your head to give him a nod, an airy breeze shoves you back into his chest. the stretchy fabric of his boxing shorts tickle against your skin upon impact. “o- okay,” you breathe, gasping once he hooks two big arms underneath the undersides of your thighs. he’s got such a good taut grip that seconds later, you felt yourself throb a bit at the feverish, hot friction. “you’re not really gonna, heh, choke me out right?”

“not unless y’er into that, princess,” he jibes, a throaty husk of a chuckle leaving out of him. and as you’re spread all out, limbs extended—yeah,

you were probably fucked.

after what seems like hours of meaningless stretches and exercises to prepare your limbs, toji’s finally got you in the position — you were sprawled right in his lap, being in a safe firm chokehold.

his voice was roughly gruff, and as he spreads your legs just a bit further, you feel the cottony bandage that wraps around his arm ghost up against your thigh. his touch was gentle and you intake a sharp breath, further continuing to lean into his touch - his grasp. “mhm, seems like y’er a bit more flexible than i thought. this comfy?”

“no,” you let off a sheepish snort, starting to feel a brief pang on your thighs from the position. to be fair — not only was full nelson uncomfortable but it was dangerous. just one wrong move and snap. but toji was a professional, he’d make sure you’d keep all your pretty little limbs in tact. probably. clearing your throat, your eyes scan around a plethora of trophies and plaques he’s won throughout his career. “but um, have you ever tried this position with no clothes on?”

toji grows quiet, allowing you to lie back on his chest. black curly strands of chest hair fondle against your skin before he murmurs gruffly into your ear. “maybe.”

the growing bulge that hid underneath his boxers had you almost feral. you felt its presence—how it was just there, poking right against your shorts.

you prepare for yet another sharp drawn out breath, taking in his loud axe cologne that wafts through the entire studio. “can we try nude?”

and that was probably dumb to ask.

it was very dumb to ask.

your lewd filthy thoughts loved to make themselves known out of your lips at the worst times. your heart raced the moment you blurted that out, feeling the tips of your ears burn a scorching temperature. he’d say no, you were almost sure of it. you were just a dumb fan who managed to be a favorite, surely he wouldn’t—

“why the hell not,” he snickers, sliding his hands toward the smooth curvature of your hips. “i’ll go easy on ya for today. let’s get rid of these,” he pulls on the string of your panties, already discarding your shorts with such quickness. “i’ll try not ‘ta break you too bad.”

but that was a lie—

not only did he break you but he stretched you out in all the ways possible.

you had the most dumbest expression, tongue lolled out, legs spread, gushing all over the velvet red boxing mat - time and time again.

pink luminescent lighting shine back against the centers of your irises as you stare up at the ceiling’s lights. you’ve never felt so weak. spit slick lips of yours were all swollen and numb from being chewed on constantly like candy. within minutes, your knees were already surrendering, bucking at his very mercy.

“fuck, tooooji.” you’d drag out his name in cute elongated syllables.

the infamous elastic stretch of his cock has you writhe and spasm all over his lap. ludicrously, your voice bounces across the cheap walls of the building. nevertheless, you can’t lie to yourself, you’ve rubbed a few out at the thought of having this moment with your favorite boxer.

unprofessional, maybe. but he didn’t care and neither did you. besides, he was helping you with your flexibility after all. even if it was a bit more intimate than most regular methods.

your heart races, thumping out quick hurried beats as he’s shoving his cock in and out of you. you’re in such a submissive position that you were just a bobble head, a doll. he treated you like one — using your body, bouncing you up and down and manhandling you all over the mat.

he gruffly cackles behind the plushy shell of your ear, watching right before his eyes as you’re jouncing on his dick. your skin was so warm, so hot, the recoil stings for a few seconds before your ass ricochets off his sharp pelvis.

the smacks and paps only grew louder, and so did your sweet melodic moans and whimpers.

a creamy pearl of a ring coats around his base and he grunts, still having a beefy arm around your neck. his muscles flex and you fight the urge to bite his bicep. “easy, good girl. lean right into me. y’er a natural.”

his words went straight to your cunt. toji was a dirty talker, never a sweet talker.

he knew how to get you wet, whether it was with his slick mouth, his tongue, or even his cock. his voice was always so low, timbre and all. the husk that it carried never failed to make you soaked. embarrassing,

oh, it definitely was embarrassing.

he’s got a free hand gripping onto your thigh, kissing your ass with his palm - rough rude spanks.

the cute flinches of your rear bouncing back against his lap makes him slide a tongue over his lips, including sliding over that notorious scar that slides down the right side of his mouth. “fuck, so fuckin’ sloppy. got the mat all soaked. should make ya lick it up, huh.”

you couldn’t even reply . . you tried, but babbles of inaudible squeaks came out instead.

it just felt too good, he felt too good.

you’re panting heavily, the repetitive pop song that blared through the boxing ring’s broken speakers gets stuck in your head. you hear the moist wails of your pussy squelching time and time again, entirely soaking yourself with your own beloved filth. a free hand of toji’s creeps its way in front of you. hand so big that he could easily cover it over your entire face if he could.

with glossy half-lidded eyes, you stare at his palm, feeling your mouth water.

thick long fingers, he knew what he was doing.

toji’s just casually waving his hand around in your face in a slow mesmerizing motion as you bounced on his cock. they were so lengthy and thick, his arms had prodding veins for days. from his wrist to the edge of his arm, you saw the veins poking out. he was so built that you couldn’t help but stare, couldn’t help but drool. “what a sloppy little girl. i could really snap you in half, heh,” he huffs, clenched abs pressing against your back. it’s hard, rock hard . . they feel like bricks.

you knew underground boxers like toji had to keep up a strict workout routine but damn.

“but you’d like that, huh,” he murmurs, bringing another smack to your slick wet folds. you moan at the stretch of your limbs, craving for more of his rude spanks against your swollen cunt. you throbbed from not only his words but his touch too, and the thought of him literally breaking you had you a bit more soaked than you thought it would.

this was a workout of its own - rutting your weight up and down against him. he’s got a secure hold on your body, holding your thighs up in place.

you were stupid, not even acknowledging that you’d already grab ahold of his wrist, stuffing his fingers into your mouth. you moan the second the dry bandaged digits delve past your lips and makings way down your throat. as your ass steadily rocks against him in sloppy rhythm, you feel the very tips of his fingers prod against your puny uvula. you almost gag at the unexpected feeling—a cobwebby trail of saliva that was translucent pours down the side of your parted lips.

“no manners, tch,” he scoffs and his ripped abs continue to brush up against your back. “sloppy baby. got some nerve showin’ up to train being this fuckin’ nasty ‘n soaked.”

the hot skin against skin contact rubbing off against each other had your panties in a bunch, despite them already being technically pulled to the side and abandoned.

you were already still sensitive, swollen achy cunt sobbing out its own pleas of pleasure.

haphazardly, your knees buckle and he snatches his fingers out of your mouth. he does this solely to get a taste himself, swirling his pink pointed tongue against his slippery digits all thanks to you. “startin’ ‘ta think you came here for more than to just get an autograph ‘n work out with me, pretty girl.”

and as the plump crown of his cock molds you a tiny brief bulge from just his size alone — it repeatedly thrashes up against your sweetest spot. you shudder, about to collapse backward before you hear the jingling bells of the front door sound off.

“h- hey, toji man. did i leave my . . gloves . . ?”

choso, toji’s rival and regular training partner stares at the erotic scene and his face twists.

“oh,” and he’s flustered right away.

you stop bouncing and your eyes widen as big as saucers—yet, you weren’t even embarrassed. you were in awe, you knew all about choso kamo.

the choso kamo, anyone would be crazy not too. he was the most recent up and coming boxer, and after beating toji with a brutal close score of 58-57.

as you’re reclined back against toji—you finally get a good look at the other dark haired boxer.

he was slim yet also well built, choso was known for fighting opponents with his iconic ponytails but as of currently - he started to wear his hair down. sometimes he’d pin it up, a bit of a wolf cut that flew down his broad shoulders.

as his bashful gaze met yours, he grew nervous. very nervous.

black sable hued shorts cling onto his hips whilst he was shirtless, a few past battle scars painting the entire canvas of his perfectly chiseled body. “am i . . interrupting something?”

“nah. c’mere, ‘cho,” a husky voice calls out and he pauses in his tracks. the air suddenly clouded its way with imaginary thick smoke of lust and tension. it’s so thick you could cut it with a knife.

he swallows—dragging his bare feet across the crimson red mat toward you both, ducking underneath the stretchy multicolored bars before gawking at you. he was far pretty up close once he entered the practice ring, he runs a hand behind his neck before averting his eyes away from your nude body out of respect.

“he’s always been kinda shy,” toji purrs to you, still buried deep into your cunt. you shiver, every movement he makes makes—even just sitting up makes you let off a soft noise. you chew the inside of your cheek, feeling a stickiness stick between your thighs. dark green eyes flicker at choso and he hums, tilting his head. “choso, you know how to do full nelson too, yeah?”

“y- yeah, of course i do why?”

“you’re avoiding eye contact again.”

choso gulps - burying his hands into the burrows of his shorts pockets. a sheet of sweat marinates across his forehead before he glances at toji, rephrasing. “eh, yeah i know how to do full nelson. why?”

“because,” toji smacks his lips, a hand prying its way between the valley of your legs. you moan, still feeling full from tepid hot dumps of his cum practically oozing out of your puffy slit. “we’ve got a new opponent ‘n she wants to experience what it’s really like on the ring.”

“toji, we do full nelson all the time,” choso timidly runs a bundle of fingers through his buzzed undercut, a timid smile curling against his lips. “we never usually do it um . . naked though.”

the boxer underneath you deadpans. he could be so dense, choso stands still before a small gasp wrenches out of his pink glossed lips.

“oh.. oh,” and his face turns into a flustered tint.

you’ve watched a bit of his interviews and it seemed not only was he shy with the press but he was also very shy in person. it was cute, regardless.

as you’re busy being trapped up in your own thoughts, choso can’t help but peek down toward your legs. you were all exposed and being stretched out by his rival. he sucks his teeth in longing, briefly staring away before feeling himself grow a bit . . aroused. “i feel disrespectful for looking, ‘m sorry.”

“no, it’s okay,” you murmur in coy reassurance, and a hand tugs onto his wrist. choso’s breath hitches at your touch, and you felt his dark eyes flicker back toward you. there’s this look in choso’s eyes, it’s mainly lust-driven. his pupils were blown and his heart raced, you looked so pretty. it’s not like he didn’t exactly not know you. he’d see you every so often when you were ‘training’ with toji. not only that but he’d spot you attending almost every boxing match. always in the front row with a vip lanyard. secretly, you were more of a choso fan but toji didn’t have to know that. “do you wanna touch me too?”

“yes,” he blurts out almost right away and his face flushes a deeper shade. a rumble from toji shakes his shoulders - he’s chuckling, and you feel a big arm wrap around your torso. you bite down on your lip, still feeling yourself sit in a creamy puddle of filth, warm cum still plugged into you. choso starts to pant, watching you slither a hand between your thighs, spreading your soppy pussy lips. “i mean.. oh, that’s..” and he’s barely able to think straight, watching as you toy with yourself whilst still being full of toji’s thickset cock. his head starts to spin before he inches closer, kneeling down after your cute hand gestures to come here. “a- are you sure you want me to—”

“it’s okay, go ahead.” you hum, guiding his wrist.

“choso, she’s not gonna bite ya,” toji snickers, bringing your legs back down. as of now — you were currently straddling him with your back facing his chest. choso rubs his neck once more, growing sheepish yet again. it’s adorable, but again, he’s seen you at his matches and face offs. choso being choso though was far too shy to say anything or thank you for your support. but now, maybe he could thank you in another way. toji crosses his arms, cocking his head as he glances at the scene. “atta boy.”

a scowl forms on the timid boxer as his fingers resume to brush up against your drooling cunt. “s- shut up, toji,” and you let off a moan at his gentle strokes. you continue to lie back against toji - staring at choso, ogles as two plump fingers of his partner’s play up and down against your soddened entrance. choso’s mouth starts to water the more he stares, admiring how full you were—you had a few remnants of toji’s cum oozing from your slit and he swipes it up, bedaubing it against your pussy to make it sheeny again. “f- fuck, you’re so pretty.”

“you can t- touch me more, choso,” you lightly pause his hand by grabbing his wrist. his eyes meet yours and he felt the tent in his boxers tighten. oh, he was already whipped from the sound of your voice. with half lidded smoky eyes, he huffs out a single breath before glancing at your lips. you climb off of toji and a brief pop exits your cunt - dragging choso closer. “are you hard, choso?”

“he’s definitely hard,” toji tchs, averting his jade green eyes toward his partner’s shorts. it was hard to not notice the presentable bulge that’s sticking right in front of his leather everlast brand shorts. “cute.”

“shut up man,” he repeats with a glowering scowl.

with a cute dramatic sigh, choso grumbles something under his breath - trying to pay more attention back toward you. he leans into your touch, closing the gap between your legs until he’s right between you. choso presses a chaste kiss against your collarbone before moaning into your tender skin. he couldn’t help but suck against your shoulder for a few seconds, relishing in your candied flavor.

you were so sweet - bandaged hands roam everywhere on your displayed body before he exhales deeply, staring at you with almost heart shaped pupils. “you . . wanna try full nelson with me too, princess?”

throwing your arms over him, you hum with a subtle nod. “yeah, ‘s okay. i can handle it.”

famous last words,

with choso . . he stretched you all the way out, probably even more than toji.

his cock was just as thick, maybe even more. his fat reddened tip swelters the inside of your sopping pussy so good until you’re whimpering his name on constant loop. it’s like a mantra, you’re so dumb that it’s like his five lettered name was the only thing your brain could comprehend to say.

he’s got you upright in the same exact position before, slinging two beefy arms underneath your thighs as your weight bounces and defies gravity.

“fuck, fuck,” he whines, the addictive squeeze your cunt had never failed to make itself known. he reached any and every area so deep. choso had a delicious curve to his cock that sent you straight butterflies. it expands through your walls, french kissing your insides until you whine. his base was repeatedly getting smacked from your ass, each ‘n every time you jerked up from his lap. “y- you’re so good. so warm, ‘m gonna pass out.”

“aren’t you the boxer though?” you try to tease, but your cheeky voice falters the second his slitted tip kisses against that spot.

your vision was merely blurry, seeing nothing but a kaleidoscope of stars. in almost defeat, your head falls back against his chest and toji watches the entire time, buff arms crossed and an amused cunning expression. seeing you milk his rival was something he didn’t know would turn him on so much.

choso doesn’t reply to your little jest, still pumping such fat inches inside of your gripping walls. he’s already dumb, knocked out cold with a solid punch - not necessarily from an opponent, but your pussy. “hang onto me, ‘kay? this position requires lots of um . . s- stamina.”

as you nod, your entire body dangles and bobs from the movement — parching hot friction gluing against each jolting limb before you spasm.

“chosoooo,” and your thighs collapse, coming to its pleasurable demise. his thrusts were sloppy, the squelches of your own body was so lewd. you heard it through and through, glancing down to see yourself flutter and clench around his cock. “fuck, fuck ‘m gonna get close again.”

“wait,” a gruff voice murmurs and you glance up to see toji standing over you. he cups your chin, a thumb caressing your quivering bottom lip. “such a empty mouth. hm, open for me, pretty. think you could use some throat training too.”

as choso’s still plummeting his cock into your swollen cunt - stretching you out dexterously, you part your lips open.

by your surprise, toji’s lips meets yours and he pulls you into a deep kiss. it’s a bit of a rushing kiss, sloppy and strings of saliva tangling between each mouths. you moan, feeling the weight of your breasts bounce as you’re making haste on the other boxer’s lap. fuck, you were quite literally living the dream. you whimper, feeling his broad hands grab against your tits, using thumbs to push squeeze pressure against your perky nipples. he was always so handsy, allowing his hands to wander everywhere and yanking against the remaining pathetic pieces of fabric that covered your body.

you were still layered . . partially,

his rough scarred hands slide underneath your blouse as he’s continuing to make out with you, curling his parted tongue beside your own before it turns into obscene sucking. your own tongue occasionally scrapes against his scar that located directly near the right side of his mouth - it tickles a bit—however, you whimper once choso’s dick created its own little kisses against your g-spot.

abruptly, toji who was just claiming your mouth a few seconds ago pulls away from the continued kiss to grip underneath your chin again. “ah, say ah,” and he hums at your obedience, staring at your pretty pink tongue rolling out of your mouth flat. “good, ‘m gonna train this throat a little bit for ya, sweets. that alright?”

“o- okay,” and you’re briefly cut off once he springs out his cock again, thwacking his pink pearly tip against your tongue. he lets off a gruff satisfied grunt, feeling himself harden up once you flick your tongue against his slit. you’re slow, making sure to savor his taste. he watches, smacking his lips and his left brow curls.

toji bites his lip, his abs curlings as he watches you try to suck him of fully — he smacks his cock all against your face softly, watching your needy pout before humming. “such a needy cock hungry slut,” and a thumb swipes against your lip, preparing to insert his hardened shaft down your throat. “aw, you want more, do ya?”

you nod before moaning, feeling choso kiss down your neck, yearning for your attention.

“y- you’re doing so good,” choso whines against your ear, clinging onto your jerking body. “ngh, don’t listen to toji. he’s just mean.”

toji rolls his eyes. he’d reply with a sassy remark but he was still feeling the after effects of sensitivity. his muscles were all tense and spasming from you just bouncing on him just a few minutes ago. you’re just grinding onto choso, feeling your hips ridiculously buckle and snap before he smears his cockhead against your lips like it was lipstick. his plump tip goes against your wet lips, only for him to smack it against your clean pink tongue. “mmph.” you lashes flutter, ogling as he buries a few fingers into your scalp for a good grip. toji grunts, briefly tossing his head back in rapture. his scent grows stronger as he gradually starts to sink his way into your mouth.

“t- toji, ‘m gonna cum. i can’t last,” choso babbles, facial expressions scrunching up the more you quicken your tempo on his lap. toji glances at choso who’s melting right underneath you — he’s got you in a secure hold, but it’s lazy.

one of his arms sling around your torso, another holding onto your thigh. “fuck,” he sucks against your neck, feeling the stretch increase. your walls were his own worst enemy, preparing to milk him for all of his worth. everything felt hot, his throat felt dry and he’s starting to shake right underneath you. “gonna cum, gonna c- cum.”

“not yet, ‘cho,” he grunts, watching as you lean in, adjusting your throat to his heavy size. your tongue swirls around the peeling slit and he huffs, a single hand tightening its hold against the roots that stick onto your scalp. “mhm, look at me. don’t worry about him, he’s just a crybaby,” and you can hear choso let off a scoff from behind you. toji’s sensitive cock was still dribbling a bit with a concoction of your previous juices and he groans at the image of you lapping it right up. “c’mon, little deeper. i wanna feel that slutty roof.”

whilst you’re having your mouth and cunt filled entirely—choso’s whining pitches louder and louder. so loud that it reverbs all throughout the thin walls of the empty boxing arena. thankfully, there wasn’t anyone here and it was usually closed on saturdays. he didn’t like be edged, he hated it.

but it felt good,

so fucking good.

especially due to the fact that he was so close to you, hearing your sweet whimpers follow in sync with his.

your voice made his cock twitch and from the inside, you felt it all.

every frantic spasm - you felt it, not to mention the few lightning type veins that run down the upward curve of his cock, you felt that too.

you rocked against him until your knees were at its last. he’s still holding you up but even he was about to tap out. choso had stamina - but he was no match for his rival, toji.

with murky low eyes—toji’s staring dead at you, bobbling your head and merely shoving you down just a little deeper.

you get sloppy, a puddle of drool trickling down the corners of your chin and down the valley of your chest before his tip hits against the roof of your mouth again.

it’s a rough rude hit and his cock gives the very back of your throat its own few jabs. a combo if you will — yet it’s more raunchy instead of sportsmanlike.

“eyes on me baby. yeah, yeah,” toji turns your head a bit, locking onto your sweet gaze. “get it wet, clean it up for me. make me just as much of a mess as you, girl.”

his words were so low - an almost growl. you were too focused on toji that you concisely forgot about the other boxer that’s sat underneath you.

choso came and it was so sudden—he couldn’t hold it anymore.

his grip weakens and he slouched back against the ring, spurts of hot cum pouring into you deep. he’s trembling, feeling a wave crash down on him as he’s succumbing to his high. choso can’t help but try to mimic toji, swatting the palm of his hand softly against your ass. even his spanks were respectful.

the worn out boxer pants, letting off an adorable finish. his vocals were quite loud despite having a deep bellow. “baby oh, fuuuck,” he mewls out, dark brows coming together. choso was about to lose it even more at the feeling your swiveling hips throwing itself around in a circle just because. toji watches the entire thing, how you were teasing his partner whilst having your mouth all stuffed full. as he’s stood tall before you both, his abs clench and you get a face view of it all. perfectly incised along the edges, you saw a few marks and scars coat against his skin and it’s never been more attractive. choso on the other hand found his hands grabbing onto your tits, gently brushing a thumb against your sensitive nipples before nuzzling into your neck. he was definitely pussy drunk — you could hear it. “babyyy,” a soft voice whines pussy drunkly against the lobe of your ear, and you depart your lips away from toji’s cock. he groans, viewing you lie back before you start to twitch out a bit yourself.

not only was choso close but so were you. as your legs were all stuck up in the air in its ideal position, you dramatically gasp once you feel it.

there’s a tugging pile of pressure that presses down on your tummy. your jaw drops—dangles and everything as you’re being pushed further toward the edge. your arousal steadily builds up until it finally comes.

just seconds apart from choso, you pant - a brief pang of electric shock ascending down right through you. you were speechless for a moment.

there’s nothing but a white noise blaring through each of your ears. it feels like an unpredictable wave, a powerful wave that ripples right through your entire body. it took you a long time to realize you were finishing - not only finishing but you were squirting.

“ohmygodddd,” you whimper out, feeling your legs vigorously shake. you gush out right onto the mat. feeling yourself grow hot — you’re even hotter because of choso’s body underneath you.

effortlessly, bodies stick against each other, snuggling in filthy warmth. as you’re leisurely coming to a halting stop of your rhythmic hips, choso’s cock remained tuck inside of you and you catch your breath, head cutely flopping back against his bare chest.

“did . . did you just squirt on me?” choso whimpers, a tremor in his voice.

his voice, it grew a bit raspier. although, you could still hear the softness lingering underneath it.

toji leans in toward you both, spreading your legs open just a bit more - he strums a calloused thumb down your opening, peering as you’re still fluttering out of arousal and was still sopping wet all the way from your needy clit.

“she fuckin’ did,” he coos, and he leans down, getting right on his knees.

you watch with low hooded eyes, still feeling surges of nirvana and euphoria overtake your body. toji purrs in contentment, wide open palms slapping against the foamy ring mat before sticking out his lengthy rosy tongue. you’re catching irregular heavy breaths right along with choso, full lungs preparing to collapse and give out before you pulse.

the moment toji drags his long tongue over the dampened spot of where you just made a mess—you felt yourself throb yet again.

so nasty, he had no shame at all. choso watched too, and he felt the exact same way as you did.

“what a mess,” and with another throaty chuckle leaving his lips, he cleans the mat off entirely before going between your legs. you moan, his palm gifting your cunt with a single abrupt spank. you’re so drenched that a few spurts of your slick coat onto his hand. toji stares at it, scoffing. “pussy tryin’ to talk back i see,” and he rubs his hand in a circular rotation against your cunt, maneuvering all kinds of shapes with his palm. you whimper, grabbing onto choso’s wrist. in awe, toji watches as dumps of cum ooze out of your opening and he even licks that up too, sticky black hair all unkempt and gluing against his forehead. the thin black bangs that run down his brows gives him a more alluring look and he hums, darkened eyes meeting his partner’s. “choso. don’t be a zombie. c’meree.”

you were definitely fucked—

being laid out, defeated and just stupidly stupid.

your legs sprawl outward as they’re both right between them. taking turns, flicking tongues of each against your swollen cunt. they took fighting over you to an entire new level. as they were drinking you dry — you couldn’t help but imagine the lewd thought of taking them both at the same time. you’d probably get crushed, you could barely even handle one as is, but two? that’d be an actual knockout for real.

as you’re still in a trancing daze, you watch both of the boxers with wide rounded eyes, grabbing both of them by the hair. there’s choso who’s really sweet and gentle, giving your pussy soft kitten kisses, softly brushing a thumb down your slit.

and then there’s toji . .

the clit biter - opposite of choso being the clit kisser, he doesn’t care.

with ravened brows furrowing up, he’s so rude to your pussy. every few seconds, he’d tenderly nibble against your pulsating nub, knowing that you’re sensitive there. with a smug grin, he shifts his eyes at you to stare at you dead in the face whilst he’s right between your legs. he’s messy too, moving his head from side to side, his scar swipes against your cunt every now and then.

not only was he messy but he was a hogger. he slurps you clean, luxuriating the tasteless flavor on his tongue before he hears choso cutely huff out in frustration.

“toji, you’re hogging her. ‘s no fair,” he grunts, dark eyes catching a glimpse at him from his hazy peripherals.

“cry ‘bout it,” and he spits on your cunt, hooked bump of his nose rubbing all against your slit.

already - toji’s chin was drenched, and so was choso’s. they both match with a slick of your sheeny arousal dripping down their perfectly chiseled chins. about a good hour had probably passed — then again, you were too dumb to acknowledge the time. all you knew was that you were soaked. you whimper, being nothing but a stiff shivering mess as they devoured you whole.

the numbness in your legs had your back rising up in ecstasy. you wanted more. sloshing slick tongues thrash and glissade against each other before they eventually . . tangle.

toji groans, accidentally meeting with choso’s lips and its brief. his eyelashes open and he has a sly smile at his rival. you watch the entire thing, the timid boxer versus the smug one. toji’s hand still remains on your folds and he’s multitasking, seductively licking choso’s bottom lip - still locking his gaze on him. he’s starting to taking his attention off of you. “hm, don’t tell me you wanted attention from me ‘n not her this entire time, ‘cho.”

a lump gets caught in his throat. choso grows flustered, hearing his own pulse shoot out through his ears as his lips made contact against his rival. “i—”

he’s hard, flaccid still, but definitely hard. there was a loud silence once a smack noise leaves there lips the second they each depart. choso’s got a pout, a longing pout before he tries to act tough.

“shut up, toji.” he grouses, trying to hide his embarrassment.

“how ‘bout ya make me,” and you’re just sat there dumbfounded with your legs still sprawled as if you weren’t just being fought over - invisible questions marks pop up everywhere over your head. what about you? what about you. with quick reflexes, he pins choso flat down on his back before snickering, having the most lewd back arch imaginable.

“our re-match is tonight after all, pretty boy.”

[mihotose]

tragic drops is just a funny song to put on a setlist why are you singing about your breakup at a summer music festival

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

DP x DC

So I have an idea. After high school, Danny goes around helping ghosts either move on or get to the Ghost Zone. Helping them get whatever they need in order to leave Earth one way or the other.

When he goes to Gotham, he finds a slew of ghosts, going back to the city's founding, that died young and just want one more party, one more dance, or to experience how the nightlife has changed since they died.

No problem. Vlad can foot the bill for some of the condemned buildings, Danny can fix them so they'll stay up for at least one night, and everyone can have the rager to end all ragers. Music from across the ages. Entire floors, dedicated to a specific kind of dance. The best music system currently on the market.

Then, he comes across a bunch of ghosts that want to experience the high life just once. Like in the good old days when you could literally throw money at people and be treated like a king instead of attacked by your rivals. Where booze flowed more freely than the river, and if you wanted to experience a vice, you could.

Bit harder. That'll take more time and possibly more run-ins with the law, but there's no reason it couldn't be done at the same time as the other party. And it'll help the ghosts that just want to pull off the perfect heist.

This all ends up attracting the fight club crowd. Underground fighting has been a Gotham City tradition since before the city was called Gotham. Legend says that the first public works built were a fighting ring and a hospital. A ton of ghosts just want to win one more fight. They can't possibly move on if they're losers.

Now we're getting somewhere! There's a huge cave system under Gotham with no bystanders! Just try to stay intangible around cavewalls and stay west of Bristol, and the Really Underground Fight Club can get as wild as you want!

Now imagine as many Batfam and/or Justice League members as you want trying to deal with what is essentially an out of control, supernatural block party

[flwrstqr]

♱ ‧ ENHYPEN WHEN YOU COME TO THEIR CONCERTS

🪽 ⋆ 𖥔 ݁ idol!enha hyung line x fem!reader. kissing, petnames 𓈃 ๋ 484 wc.

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆 when you walk backstage after heeseung's concert, he’s shocked to see you. his eyes widen and before you know it, he’s rushing over, lifting you up effortlessly and spinning you around slightly. he litters your face with kisses, making you giggle. “you didn’t tell me you’re gonna be here, princess,” he murmurs against your lips. his hands gently cup your face as he pulls you into a deep, tender kiss, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. the staff members nearby gush over how cute you two are, and you can’t help but smile. “well, i’m here now,” you say, wrapping your arms around his neck. heeseung grins, his eyes shining with pure happiness as he holds you close.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆 jay is walking around the stadium during the concert, interacting with fans while performing. his eyes scan the crowd, and then they widen when he spots you. without a second thought, he rushes over, pulling you into a tight hug. he kisses your cheek and whispers, “you didn’t tell me you would show up here.” you laugh, kissing his cheek back. “backstage?” you ask, and he nods, a huge smile on his face. he gives your hand a quick squeeze before turning around to interact with other engenes, his excitement palpable. the crowd goes wild, and you can't help but feel your heart swell with joy.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐔𝐍 backstage before the concert, you’re sitting on jake’s lap, his arms wrapped around you securely. his chin rests on your shoulder as the two of you watch a video on his phone, his face nuzzled close to yours. his hand rest on your thigh. every now and then, he leaves soft kisses on your neck, making you shiver with delight, before refocusing on the video. his members pass by and can’t help but tease him. “look at jake, a lovesick puppy,” one of them jokes, causing jake to blush slightly. he grins, not minding the teasing one bit as he holds you closer, whispering, “i don’t care what they say. i’m just happy you’re here with me.”

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍 sunghoon’s on stage, performing with his usual charm, but tonight, his eyes are glued on you. every note, every move, it's like he's singing just for you. "so my pretty girl came today," he says into the mic, and the crowd goes wild. you can feel your cheeks heating up as he continues, "guess i have to give my best performance now." his gaze never leaves yours, and the way he looks at you makes your heart flutter. he’s completely smitten, and everyone can see it. he's just been craving your lips and touch the whole entire week.

[pearlessance]

Three's A Crowd

Tommy Miller x f!reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Tommy's new girlfriend is awfully sweet. When Joel finds out she's got a big appetite that only he can fill, he decides to satisfy the craving. Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, threesome, praise, seduction, age gap(20yrs), size difference, oral sex galore, unprotected sex, photos taken during intercourse, mention of sending nudes, throat bulge, usual smut antics NOTE: i'm not sure if this is actually any good considering it was writen in just a matter of days because i was inspired by the new promo, gabriel luna the man that you are 😵‍💫😵‍💫 !! MASTERLIST [crossposted to AO3]

 Joel Miller knows his brother like the back of his hand. 

Which is why it’s not surprising when Tommy lets him in on the details about his secret new girlfriend. Secret—because you’re the daughter of their most consistent client. 

At first, Joel tells him how stupid it is to risk the company like that. It’s irresponsible to put on the line their biggest cash cow just to fuck around with the only daughter of the man that funds Miller Contracting through the winter. And then there’s the fact that you don't exactly fit Tommy’s type.

A rich girl with an even richer daddy compared to all those wild girls from Tommy’s previous female fixations? It doesn’t line up. It makes no sense in Joel’s head. 

Even as his brother tries to explain, “I didn’t go after her. Not at first. She came onto me.”

Joel’s got one hand on the steering wheel and the other propped on the open window of his truck as they drive home from a particularly exhausting day. He furrows his brows and asks, “Don’t you think that’s a little suspicious? You sure she actually likes you and isn’t just tryin’ to get her daddy’s attention?”

Tommy snorts. “Even if she was, I wouldn't care. You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?”

“Jesus Christ—”

“An’ I mean love, Joel. Not like. Love.” There are stars in his eyes and he knows it’s a serious matter but Joel can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

He thinks it must be high praise coming from his brother who goes home with a different girl every other weekend. “That good, huh?”

“Better than good.” 

And he knows Tommy’s got a one-track mind, so there’s really no use fighting it. So he just says, “Be careful. Don’t go gettin’ caught 'cause the business will pay the price.”

Tommy agrees and Joel lets it go. Doesn’t think about it again, even when Tommy cancels their plans to go out that weekend in favor of your company.

Well, not until he’s standing in your kitchen going over blueprints with your father, that is. 

Joel tries not to glance out of the floor-length windows in the kitchen to the backyard. He tries not to look at the movement in the pool that repeatedly catches his eye. And he tries, really fucking hard, not to allow his attention to linger on the way that white bikini rests so snugly against your chest, or the way your wet hair cascades down your back and sticks to your smooth skin, or the way his cock twitches in his jeans when the impressive swell your ass shakes as you pull yourself up and out of the pool.

He understands his brother a little better when he sees you, Joel thinks. Understands why he’s willing to risk such a high-profit opportunity for the chance to see you underneath him. 

Your father leaves the kitchen to find an old set of blueprints to compare to the new ones, and Joel begins to panic as he realizes this is the moment you decide you’re done swimming. 

When you open the door to the kitchen the hinges creak. Joel takes note of it. 

Water drips onto the white tile floor, the same quick rhythm as the thumping of his heart against his sternum. You cross the kitchen and open the fridge door without even looking at him. 

But Joel certainly looks at you. Can’t help but to, really. You’re like some decadent display as you break the seal of an icy bottle of water and begin to take long, slow drinks from it. Your lips are plush and swollen and Tommy’s words reverberate in the back of Joel’s head. 

You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?

“Thirsty?”

He nearly chokes. Joel knows you’re likely just being hospitable. Kind, even. But he feels like he shouldn’t be speaking to you, not when you’re close to naked and dripping wet. And if not because of your father upstairs, then certainly because of his brother’s affinity for you. So, despite the way his tongue feels like sandpaper in his mouth, he says, “No, thanks.”

Joel turns his eyes back to his blueprints, folding the corner once, twice, trying to focus on anything but the weight of your stare.

If you notice his unease you ignore it as you slide up to the counter beside him and peer down at the layout of your father’s newest home renovation. You’re so close he can feel the heat of your skin, can smell the chlorine in your hair. “Hm,” you say. “This is for the guest room?”

“Bedroom D,” he corrects.

A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. You turn away from the blueprints, spine resting against the marble countertop in favor of studying him instead. “You’re Joel, right? Tommy’s older brother?”

There’s no sense in lying, Joel thinks. Though he does consider it for a moment. “Uh…yeah,” he says. And then he clears his throat and nods, repeating a little more firmly, “Yeah.”

Your stare is so hot against his skin, eyes unabashedly roaming down the column of his neck. He shivers as your attention lingers on the small sliver of his chest that’s revealed thanks to his decision this morning to leave one of the buttons on his flannel unsecured. You’re standing so close to him now that a drop of chlorinated water falls from the ends of your hair and onto his arm.

Joel feels the cool liquid slide down his too warm-skin, melting as if it were ice, heating to the temperature of his blood that sings in his veins beneath your scrutinization.

He watches your tongue slide over your pretty bottom lip and his breath catches in his lungs. “Hm,” you say again, the sound a little fonder this time. “I see where he gets his good looks from.”

It’s been a long time since someone flirted with him so openly. Even longer since someone your age even took a second glance at him. And even though he knows, by the rule of his own morality, that you belong to his little brother…Joel can’t deny the giddy feeling it elicits in his chest. Can’t deny that he likes your attention, either.

“Found them,” your father suddenly says, bounding down the stairs with folded blueprints in his hand. 

Joel clears his throat and you take a small step away from him, but otherwise seem unphased by the intrusion. He tries to ignore the lingering buzzing beneath his skin, tries to shake off what remains of the electrified energy you’d created.

You greet your dad with a kiss on the cheek and tell him you’re going out tonight. Your father asks with who, and you glance past him, staring only at Joel as you say simply, “Just a friend.”

And he knows you’ll likely be at his little brother’s apartment within the hour. Thinks about preparing himself for yet another of Tommy’s cancellations of guy’s night but this time there’s no frustration on Joel’s part. 

Because he doesn’t blame his brother at all. If anything, he understands a little better now. Understands why getting drunk with Joel at a bar is a far less tempting activity than spreading those pretty thighs of yours. Understands why he’d rather stay home than go out, especially if you’re there in his bedroom on your knees for him. 

His assumption is confirmed later that night when he gets a text message.

Tommy: Have to cancel again. Sorry, something came up.

Joel knows exactly what ‘came up’ and decides to put on an old western movie to distract himself instead.

But when he lays in bed that night, the image of you in your bikini surfaces in his brain and makes a home there. He tries for an hour to get himself to relax enough to shut it out, to just go to sleep.

Eventually, though, he realizes there’s no fucking point in trying. And even though you’re in his brother’s bed and your father’s blueprints are sitting on the kitchen table downstairs, Joel Miller takes his cock in his hand and has the best orgasm of his life. He thinks about your smooth skin and supple curves, thinks about the way that single droplet of water felt against his skin, thinks about your pink tongue and the way you looked at him with such insatiable hunger.

It’s a secret Joel decides he’ll take to his grave.

He tries not to think of you after that. Tries to keep his distance from you, from your house in general. Joel’s not a man who enjoys technology but opts for emailing your father instead of meeting with him to avoid another post-pool incident.

Tommy finally makes it to guy’s night two weeks later but he’s glued to his fucking cell phone. Joel tries to make conversation, tells him about upcoming projects and opportunities for contracts, and mentions that this summer has been their most profitable yet. But Tommy only nods every so often. Giving Joel a stupid, uninterested, “Yeah, for sure,” or “That’s great, Joel,” or “I don’t know, maybe.”

There’s no salt to his words, no meaning other than oblivious agreement. And it starts to anger Joel because Tommy’s been distracted by girls before but never like this. Never so much so that he can’t sit and have half a conversation with his brother. Eventually, he lets out an annoyed sigh and says, “If you’ve got somewhere better to be you can just fuckin’ go, Tommy. Jesus Christ.”

The irritation seems to finally get his attention. Tommy locks his cell phone and says, “She’s sending me pictures, distractin’ me, I’m sorry,” but there’s a stupid ass grin on his face and Joel can feel the insincerity radiating off his brother.

Joel rolls his eyes and waves down the bartender for the check. 

“No, no, okay,” Tommy insists, setting his phone face down on the bar top. He shoos the bartender away and says, “Okay, seriously, you’re right. I’m sorry.” It’s a little more genuine this time, and so Joel decides to meet his brother halfway.

“You really like her? S’that what this is?”

That smile returns to Tommy’s face, eyes glossing over in a mystifying way. He must, because Joel’s never seen him like this before. “We’re not even together,” he says.

Joel’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about? You spend every weekend with her, you might as well be.”

“Believe me, Joel, I’ve tried, man. She’s…I don’t know how to explain it. She doesn’t want anything serious. Doesn’t wanna be exclusive or nothin’ but isn’t fuckin’ around with anyone but me. I just…” he shakes his head and his eyes widen and Joel can see the awe in them. 

“So she’s acting like you,” Joel supplies.

It makes Tommy laugh. But the more he explains, the more Joel starts to believe it. “She’s so sweet but that girl is insatiable. Just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it. Doesn’t care about much else.”

“I’m not sayin’ you shouldn’t have fun, Tommy, but don’t let her consume your whole life. Get some space every once in a while,” Joel says. But he understands the infatuation, understands exactly how enticing your company would be. 

He leans in close, one hand wrapped around his whiskey glass and the other tapping the back of his phone. “Those pictures…she’s taking pictures in the shower, Joel. For me. An’ you wanna know what she just told me the other day?”

Joel knows what’s coming next. Knows Tommy’s about to clue him in on something Joel has no business knowing, but he can’t fight off his curiosity. “What?”

“Said her biggest fantasy is a threesome with two guys. Told me, and I quote, that she wants to get fucked while she’s got my dick in her mouth.” He makes a sound of disbelief but there’s this grin on his face that lets Joel know Tommy’s biggest fantasy is to be with a filthy girl like you.

Joel just shakes his head.

But the image his brother paints lingers in his brain for days.

In fact, he’s still thinking about it during his next meeting with your father. Thinking about the fact that you’re up in your room, fantasizing about getting fucked by two guys at once when your dad suddenly says, “I’ll be out of town for a couple of weeks, I hope you don’t mind I gave my little girl your phone number. Just in case anything goes wrong. It won’t, but I hate being so far away while she’s here alone. I’m sure you understand, being a father and all.”

He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know how to respond, unsure how to explain how terrible an idea that is, so he says nothing. Just nods stiffly and begins discussing the renovations for the ensuite of bedroom C. 

Less than a week later, Joel gets a phone call from an unknown number, and his gut sinks because he knows it’s you. He debates on ignoring the call but then begins to worry that something’s actually wrong and puts himself in your father’s position. Thinks he’d be furious, had it been Sarah, if she’d called someone for help and they’d ignored her. 

So, he presses his cell phone to his ear and says, “Hello?”

“Joel? Hi, sorry, I know it’s kinda late. Do you think you could come over really quick? I need your help.”

“Help? With what?” It doesn’t really matter, he thinks. Because he’s already lacing up his boots, phone held to his ear with his shoulder.

“I locked myself out,” you explain. “My dad’s out of town for work and I didn’t grab my key before he left. You have a spare, don’t you? For the renovations and stuff?”

Joel can’t help but wonder where you’ve been for the last few days. Someplace you wouldn’t have needed to come home, it seems. “Uh, yeah, I do,” he says. “I’ll be there in a minute. Hang tight.”

He finds you standing on your front porch with a backpack slung over your shoulder, your phone charger in your hand, and a look of relief on your face. “Thank you so much,” you immediately say. “I swear I never forget my key but I was distracted this time.”

Joel unlocks the front door for you and lets you inside. He lingers on the threshold, saying, “No, it’s fine. No worries at all.”

“Come inside,” you insist, and he can feel the bad decision from a fucking mile away.

“Really, it’s fine. I’ll just—”

“Please,” you interrupt. “Are you thirsty? Hungry? Let me make you something to eat before you go. It’s the least I could do.”

He shouldn’t. He shouldn’t. But he does.

Joel nods, unable to resist you and how pretty the word please sounds in your mouth. He follows you into the kitchen, lingering at the island counter as you drop your bag onto the floor next to the stairs and immediately plug your cell phone into the extra outlet he’d placed into the backsplash per your father’s request during last winter’s renovation. You look over your shoulder at him as you open the refrigerator and ask, “You like grilled cheese?”

“Uh, yeah. I do.” He sits in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the way you move as you prepare the bread and heat up a cast iron pan. Eventually, he finds the courage to ask, “You…uh…were you at Tommy’s?”

He watches as your cheeks redden the smallest bit. But there’s no shame in your voice as you answer simply, “Yes, I was.”

“Figured you’d tire each other out eventually,” he teases.

You laugh softly, and the buttered bread sizzles as you place it into the pan. As you lay the slices of cheese on top of it you explain, “Wasn’t like that. I’m home for the weekend so Tommy can talk to you, actually.”

It surprises him to hear it, in truth. “Me? What for?”

You flush an even deeper crimson. “Uhm…I think it’s better that you hear it from him,” you say.

Joel’s mind wanders to a million places as you dig out a spatula and flip the grilled cheese. But then a terrifying thought strikes him and Joel suddenly asks, “You’re not pregnant, are you?”

“Ew, no,” you say with a laugh. “Believe me, Joel, I like creampies just as much as the next girl but I’m not irresponsible about it.”

This time, it’s his face that warms. Joel swallows hard and sits on the barstool at the island, trying not to think about your inadvertent admission, trying not to imagine it, to imagine how fucking good it would feel to—

“Here,” you say, placing a glass plate in front of him with a perfectly crispy grilled cheese cut diagonally. He’s thankful for the distraction, thankful to convince himself the watering of his mouth is from the food in front of him and not the thought of how you would taste on his tongue.

“Thanks,” he says simply, trying to massage some of the tension from his shoulders. It had been a long day on the job site and he’ll admit to himself only that a grilled cheese and the sight of a pretty girl certainly feels like a treat.

You seem to notice his discomfort and ask, “You okay?”

He nods and takes a bite of his sandwich. It’s the most delicious thing he’s ever had and he tries to hold back his moan to no avail. When he looks over at you, you’re wearing a satisfied grin that only widens when he says around another mouthful, “This is incredible.”

As if it’s the most natural thing in the world, you step up behind him and place your hands on his shoulders. Joel opens his mouth to stop you, to tell you this is wrong, inappropriate—but then you kneed your fingers into the tender muscle, and his eyes flutter closed. 

All argument leaves him as quickly as it appeared, and all he can manage to say is, “Jesus Christ.”

Your quiet giggle is the cutest thing he’s ever heard. And Joel knows he should be thinking of his brother right now, knows he should be thinking of your father, thinking about the fact that you’re just a young woman, twenty years separating the two of you…but all he can focus on is the way your hands feel on him.

They’re warm and soft but clinical in their pursuit, thumbs pressing hard into the muscle that brackets his spine. Your delicate fingers feel like heaven, bringing relief he never realized just how badly he needed.

You slowly massage down his back, pushing against the knots, working them free. When you get to his lower back, he groans when you slip your hands beneath his navy t-shirt. You’re touching him with no barrier and it steals the breath from his lungs.

Never in his life has he wanted to be touched by someone so badly. Never in his life has he enjoyed the feel of another person’s skin against his so much. Your thumbs dig into the sore muscles, working the tension out.

You lean in so close that he can feel the heat of your breath against the shell of his ear as you say, “Will you take your shirt off?”

He’s thankful you’re standing behind him, however. Because it means you can’t see the way his cock stiffens in his jeans.

The words are tempting and seductive and wrong, he knows. He looks back at you and the heat in your eyes takes him off guard. The angle has his mouth so close to yours you’re sharing the same breath.

It’s then he knows just how badly you want him. As much as he wants you.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say. While you speak, your fingertips trace soft patterns into the skin of his lower back.

Joel knows it’s a bad idea, but he does it anyway.

You step away from him only long enough for Joel to grip his t-shirt at the back of his collar and pull it over his head, laying it on the marble countertop.

And then you go back to your ministrations as if nothing changed; massaging the tension from his muscles, starting low and working your way back up to his shoulders this time. But it is different, Joel knows. Because he can feel the heat of your skin against his and his heart rate picks up, a different kind of tension filling him instead.

But it feels so fucking good that he doesn’t ever want you to stop.

So, he eats what remains of his grilled cheese. Lets you work the tightness from his bones, trying not to hiss in pain when you touch a particularly tender spot in the center of his back. You lighten the pressure there and begin building back up to it slowly, bringing him to heights of euphoria he’d never known existed.

When he wipes the crumbs from his hands and pushes his now empty plate away, Joel knows he should stop you. But he doesn’t, because he can no longer find a reason good enough to say the words. He lets you dote on him in a way he doesn’t deserve and soaks it up while it lasts.

And when you press a sweet, chaste kiss to the top of his spine, Joel feels the energy shift but doesn’t say anything then, either.

Because he likes the way your lips feel against his skin. Even more so than your soft hands.

You do it again, a little higher this time. You kiss the back of his neck and he shivers. He realizes you can see the goosebumps that break out across his skin, because he can feel the smile on your lips as you press another wet, open-mouthed kiss to the junction of his shoulder.

Joel’s cock has never been this hard, he thinks. He’s never wanted someone so badly, has never been so incapable of making the right decision as he is at this very moment.

His breath comes fast and labored as you press yourself to him. You’re not wearing a bra beneath your oversized t-shirt, and he can feel your pebbled nipples against his back. Your hands move forward, circling his abdomen, sliding up and over his chest. He knows he should stop you now, knows this is the beginning of something he can never come back from.

But the two of you are all alone in this big empty house, and how can he deny you? He doesn’t have the strength. Not then you slide pretty, delicate fingers over his soft stomach, through the dark curls that disappear into his jeans.

Your hand is slow in its pursuit but still adamant as you palm the bulge in his jeans. Even through the thick denim, the feel of your hands on him makes him shake. He cock throbs with each gentle stroke, each small movement. “You can tell me to stop,” you tell him. “Is this okay?”

He can’t bring himself to say anything, but the moan that escapes him is answer enough. He places his hands on the edge of the counter and straightens his spine, getting a full view as you undo the button of his jeans and lower the metal zipper at an agonizingly slow pace.

And then you’re slipping a hand inside his jeans, below the elastic band of his boxers, and all thoughts eddy out of his head. He can think of nothing, nothing as you begin to stroke him. Your hands are small, barely fitting around his cock, but you make do with what you have and it’s more than enough.

You pull him out of his jeans completely, and it’s a sight to behold, seeing his cock in your pretty hands. He tries to catch his breath as you pull one of your hands away for a single moment. And when it returns, your fingers are sticky with webs of spit.

This time, when you wrap your hand around his cock, you’re able to stoke him a little easier, the added lubrication allowing for freer movement. You move slowly at first, hands grazing from base to tip.

He watches with reverence as you familiarize yourself with him. When a bead of precum forms at the tip of his cock, you use your thumb to add it to the sticky wetness already in your hands. Joel can feel the smile on your face as you continue to press desperate kisses to his spine, and he knows he won’t last long like this.

Watching you stroke him with both of your small hands, watching you take care of him like this…it’s too much. It’s too fucking much.

So he closes his eyes. Lets himself sink into the moment with you instead, listens to your pretty whimpers as you press your tits against him. He wants to reach around and slide his hand between your thighs but knows better, knows that this is already bad enough.

You tighten your hands around his cock, squeezing a little harder, and he feels his end begin to build at the base of his spine. “Fuck.”

“Does it feel good?”

He tries to breathe slowly, tries to draw it out. But you pick up your pace, stroking him a little faster, and Joel can’t stop the groan that escapes him.

“You make me so wet, Joel,” you whisper against his skin. “I think about you and touch myself sometimes, thinking about how fucking big you are, how good it would feel to have you touch me…how good you’d feel inside of me.”

Your filthy words bring him to the brink. Joel fights it, doesn’t want to finish so fast he embarrasses himself. He wants to see the look on your face, wants to fuck you right here on this kitchen counter that he built.

Joel clenches his fists instead. Stays stone still because he knows if he moves an inch he’ll be giving into these desires. Knows a single shift in position would have him pulling your shorts down your thighs and licking your pussy until he makes you cry out for God. 

But it’s not his place.

It’s not his fucking place, and you’re not his fucking girl.

So he doesn’t move.

You do, though.

Joel tries to catch his breath as you pull away from him, the absence of your touch leaving him cold and wanting. But then you’re nudging your way in front of him, in the small space between his knees and the island, and then you’re lowering yourself to the marble floor.

You ever met a girl that loves to suck cock before?

Slowly, you run your hands over his jean-clad thighs. You look up at him through your lashes and he feels a little like he’s being worshipped.

And when you lean forward, pretty, soft tongue licking the underside of his cock, Joel can’t keep his hands to himself. His resolve withers, and he threads his fingers through your hair but is careful not to rush you.

He lets you take your time, lets you swirl your tongue over the head, lets you taste every inch of him to your heart’s content. And when you finally take him into your mouth, cheeks hallowed out, creating a tight seal around him, Joel’s head falls back in bliss.

You savor it, relish in it, swallowing him down inch by inch. He hits the back of your throat and still you keep going, choking on him, nose pressed against the hair below his navel. With each pass, you begin to bob your head, tongue smoothing over the sensitive tip. You set an insatiable rhythm, drool sliding down your chin.

It doesn’t take him long. His hands tighten in the hair at the nape of your neck and he breaths out, “Fuck, fuck, sweetheart, I’m gonna-”

Your watery eyes meet his and the adoration in them sends him over the edge. Joel finishes at the back of your mouth, your fingernails digging into the meaty flesh of his thighs almost painfully, but you take everything he gives you and swallow it down.

It’s the sexiest thing he’s seen in all his life.

When he finishes, Joel strokes your hair affectionately and you smile up at him with his cock still in your mouth. It makes him laugh, and he realizes how soft and sweet this moment feels. How easy it is. How he never wants it to end.

Slowly, you sit back and begin to stand to your feet. Your lips are swollen and red and glossy, even when you wipe the spit off your chin with the back of your hand.

You cross the kitchen, grab your phone, and make your way to the staircase. “Thanks again, Joel. Can you lock up on your way out?”

He doesn’t understand how you can feel so casually about this. Doesn’t understand how you’re likely texting his brother as if Joel’s cock wasn’t just in your mouth, as if the taste of his release doesn’t linger on your tongue. 

The guilt doesn’t set in until he’s in bed that night. He can’t sleep, because he knows he has to say something to Tommy but knows, too, he’ll likely pay the price of a right hook in reparation. 

At three in the morning he sends a text to his brother; Come over in the morning. Need to talk. Important. 

Joel doesn’t sleep. He lays in bed and thinks of you, as he so often does these days. Thinks about how uncomfortable it’s going to be to tell his little brother that he indulged himself in the pretty little thing he’s been spending all of his time with. He decides he’s just going to say it outright, tell him the truth without beating around the bush, and immediately apologize for it afterward.

Because he is sorry, Joel thinks. Not sorry that he did it, but sorry that it’s hurt people in the process.

How can he come to regret the most gratifying sexual experience of his life? It’s a comfort, to hear some of Tommy’s words echo in his brain. 

We’re not even together.

She doesn’t want anything serious.

It’s like she just wants to fuck and have a good time and that’s it.

Joel hopes his brother feels a similar way. Tommy’s never once indicated he’s ever wanted to settle down with a woman, but…something sits in his gut and twists up his insides. Because as much as he wants to deny it, Joel knows this…knows you are different. What Tommy feels for you is different.

He’s drinking whiskey by ten in the morning for no reason other than to calm his nerves.

And Joel’s thankful for the liquid courage when Tommy finally pulls into the driveway at noon. He comes barrelling through Joel’s front door with a scowl on his face, and for a second Joel wonders if his brother already knows and is here thinking Joel had every intention of keeping this secret of yours.

But when he speaks, Tommy doesn’t seem angry. Just…concerned. “What’s up, man? Pretty ominous text to wake up to. Where’s Sarah? She alright?”

Joel shakes his head and raises a hand between them. “Sarah’s fine, she’s alright,” he says quickly. “Staying with a friend this weekend. Sorry, I guess I should have mentioned it wasn’t a life or death situation.” 

For Tommy, anyway.

With a slow nod, Tommy’s shoulders slump and he drops himself onto the couch. “Alright, then. That’s good. I was worried, came haulin’ ass over here.” It’s then he notices the tumbler in Joel’s hand, half filled with amber-colored liquid. “You good, Joel?”

He takes a seat next to his brother and tries to recite the speech in his head. But nothing comes out. Joel opens and closes his mouth once, twice, and then finishes off the whiskey in his glass.

Tommy’s patient, for what it’s worth. He lets Joel adjust in his seat three different times, saying nothing while he tries to find the courage he’s been building for the last twelve hours.

“I…I, uhm…I have to tell you something an’ I…” Joel shakes his head and squeezes his jaw. “Alright, look. I…did something.”

A quiet, curt sort of laugh leaves Tommy. “I know what happened last night, Joel. She already told me.”

It surprises him. Not that you told him, Joel can’t fault you for that considering he’s presently trying to do the same thing. What’s surprising is that Tommy seems relaxed about the whole situation. Relieved, even.

A million different questions surface on the tip of his tongue, but only one comes out. “What?”

“It’s alright, man,” Tommy says, laying a comforting hand on Joel’s shoulder.

“You’re not…mad? I don’t understand. I let her—”

Tommy’s mouth stretches into one of the widest smiles Joel’s ever seen on his brother’s face. “It was good, huh?”

Joel doesn’t know if saying yes is a good idea. Doesn’t know if a simple three-letter word is sufficient enough for the things you made him feel with that pretty, pink tongue of yours. 

But it seems his thoughts are written plainly on his face. “Fuck yeah, it was,” Tommy says with a laugh. “She called me right after you left her house last night. Told me everything. She makes a mean grilled cheese too, doesn’t she?”

Try as he might, Joel can’t seem to wrap his head around what’s happening. Can’t seem to process his brother’s ease, his indifference. He tries to put himself in Tommy’s place but knows that if it was his bed you slept in for the last week, Joel would be furious to learn you’d wound up on your knees for someone else.

But if that someone was Tommy? His own brother?

Maybe that’s why it’s different. Because Joel would never do something to hurt his brother intentionally. And he knows, too, that Tommy would never do it to him, either.

He trusts his brother with everything in him. There’s not another soul on the planet who knows him like Tommy does. So, surely, he knows that what you and Joel did wasn’t born of malicious intent, right?

“She’s a sweet little thing,” Tommy says quietly, as if they’re sharing a secret. “But that mouth on her is somethin’ else. She’s a talker, through and through.” There’s pride on his face as he speaks. “Said she felt real bad, runnin’ out on you like that, but she’d gotten so wet from just goin’ down on you that I could hear it through the fuckin’ phone, Joel.”

Though he tries not to, Joel begins to wonder what would have happened if you’d stayed, if you hadn’t disappeared so fast to take care of the ache that had settled between your thighs.

It would have been only fair, right? You helped him. He would have helped you.

“She wanted me to talk to you about something, anyway,” Tommy says.

He’d nearly forgotten that you’d mentioned the same thing last night in all the chaos. It piques his interest, because what on Earth could you need Tommy to ask him?

But his answer comes quickly when his brother says carefully, “You remember a couple of weeks ago when I told you what her biggest fantasy is?”

A threesome.

Joel’s standing from the couch and shaking his head before his brother gets another word out. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind, Tommy?”

“Joel, just listen—”

“Listen to what, man? You got any idea what you’re askin’ me right now?”

There’s a smirk on his face as he stares at Joel from the couch, looking just as comfortable as if they were having a normal conversation about what they should eat for dinner. “I’m askin’ you to fuck my girlfriend,” he says.

Somehow, the word girlfriend surprises Joel more than the rest. It’s the very first time he’s ever called anyone his girlfriend. “I thought you weren’t together.”

Tommy shrugs. “Call it what you will. Does it really matter?”

“Yeah, Tommy, it does matter. Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t have feelings for this girl. Tell me this doesn’t mean anythin’ to you, that doing somethin’ like this wouldn’t fuck it all up in a minute.”

He shakes his head. “Can’t lie to you, brother. ‘Course she means somethin’ to me. That’s why I wanna give her everything she wants. And she wants you too, Joel. Is that so bad?”

Joel sighs heavily and runs a hand through his hair, pulling at the roots.

For a second, a single second, he considers it. Thinks about how any price is worth it for a single night with you, to hear the sound of your moans, to feel your warm breath against his neck again. He’d bet you sound real pretty, all filled up with him.

“Don’t trust anyone else to take care of her the way I do,” Tommy says. “No one but you.”

It’s too much. It’s way too much to ask of him.

“You’re insane, Tommy,” he says, grabbing his whiskey glass from the coffee table and escaping to the kitchen to refill it. He wishes he had something a little stronger.

He’s not surprised when his brother follows him to the kitchen. Tommy leans against the archway and says, “You can say no.”

“Good, 'cause I’m sayin’ no.”

Tommy laughs, but Joel thinks there’s no joke to be found. “Just wanted you to know the offer’s there and she’d jump at the opportunity. Y’know, if you change your mind, that is. Ask her about it, if you wanna.”

“I won’t.”

He raises his hands in surrender. “Alright, not tryin’ to push it or anything. You know how to get ahold of me.”

And then his brother retreats, leaving Joel with nothing but his whiskey and his thoughts.

Thoughts that run rampant in his brain. Filthy images of you beneath him, back arched in pleasure, pretty mouth hung open just wide enough for Tommy to slip inside.

How terrible would it be, really? Tommy might have impulsive tendencies, but he seems so sure of this. And if there’s not an ounce of jealousy in his brother, so much so that he offers you to Joel like some sort of prize…maybe there won’t be the repercussions Joel’s afraid of.

Maybe it’ll be as Tommy says. Maybe it would just be a good, safe way to give you what you want, to indulge your wildest desires. 

And it would certainly be an indulgence for him. Just feeling your hands on him had brought Joel bliss like he’d never known. He can’t imagine how much higher he’d feel if he could taste you, if he could finish deep inside of you and not at the back of your throat.

It takes twenty minutes of pacing in his kitchen and another ten of shaking the nerves from his hands before he picks up the phone and calls you.

“Hey, Joel. I was just thinking about you.”

“S’that right?”

“Mmhm. Did…did Tommy talk to you yet? He told me he was going to this morning.” 

“Yeah, sweetheart. He did.”

A strange sort of silence stretches on. He can hear your hesitance and realizes you’re just as nervous as he is. “And? What did you…what did you say?”

He doesn’t have the heart to tell you he declined the offer. Not when it was a no mostly out of fear and unease. “You wanna tell me how this is gonna work?”

You snort and he can almost see the playful smirk on your face. “I think you know how it works, Joel.”

“That’s not what I mean,” he says, but can’t fight off the smile that climbs onto his face and makes a home there. “Brat.”

“Hm, I think I prefer the term princess.”

Joel laughs but thinks the name is real fitting. He can see why Tommy likes you so much—can understand why he wants to give you everything it is that you desire. Everything about you is so playful and carefree and innocent. You’re just so sweet. A tooth-rotting confectionary. 

“I don’t know how it’ll work,” you finally say. “I’ve never done something like this before, but I know it’s what I want.”

Your conviction is reassuring. Both you and Tommy seem certain that this is the path you want to take, no unease to be found within either of you. But it’s not the physical that worries him. It’s…everything else. “An’ what happens if it becomes something more? Sex is just sex until it isn’t.”

He can hear the smile in your words as you ask, “You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?”

“I’m bein’ serious,” he insists. “Tommy feels somethin’ for you. I know it and I think you probably do, too. I don’t want to do this and ruin what the two of you have been workin’ on.”

“You won’t ruin anything,” you insist. “And if…if things do get…complicated, then we’ll just take it day by day. No use in worrying about something that might not happen, right?”

It’s such a naive way of thinking. Joel wishes he wouldn’t have said no so quickly. Wishes, too, that you were a little different. Maybe if you weren’t so sweet, so tempting, he wouldn’t be so worried about ‘catching feelings,’ as you’d put it.

Your voice is quieter as you say, “For what it’s worth, Joel…I like you, too.”

By the end of the phone call, you manage to convince him to consider it. To genuinely give the idea a shot, to weigh all the pros and cons. You promise not to be disappointed with either decision and though he knows the whole thing has been your idea, Joel believes you.

Several days later, Joel stops by with the intent to fix the creaky hinges on the door to the pool. But the moment he steps into the kitchen, Joel forgets all about the task at hand because he can hear your moans echoing through the house.

He follows them like a moth to a flame.

The door to your father’s bedroom is wide open. And in the center of the king-sized bed, covered with gray satin sheets, is you and Tommy.

Tommy’s turned away from the door, but you’re looking right at it. Looking right at Joel, as you bounce in his brother’s lap. When your eyes connect with him, your pace only picks up, your moans only grow louder.

Joel watches, frozen in time, as you chase your release. Tommy swirls his tongue around your pebbled nipple, leaving a trail of wetness in its wake. You thread your fingers through his hair and moan his name but you stare right at Joel.

He can’t breathe. Has suddenly forgotten the process of inhalation. He’s seen you in your bikini but never like this, never completely bare. You’re beautiful, Joel thinks. Beautiful in a godly way; a woman the poets write for, a woman the sculptors display in cathedrals.

You reach a hand between your bodies, circling your clit and arching your back.

The thought doesn’t even cross Joel’s mind that he should leave, that he should give the two of you some privacy. It feels right that he’s here. 

You grind yourself on Tommy’s cock and give Joel the sweetest, most innocent smile as you say, “It’s so big, you’re so deep. God, fuck, I’m gonna cum.”

Tommy grabs at the soft swell of your ass, lifting you just to slam you back down onto his lap. “Yeah? Gonna cum all over this dick, princess?”

I prefer the term princess.

No need to wonder why, Joel thinks.

“Mmhm, yes, yes, right there.”

“Can feel her gettin’ all messy,” Tommy says. “If I knew you’d get this wet ridin’ me in your daddy’s bed I would’ve said yes weeks ago, pretty girl.”

Joel knows the reason you’re all worked up has nothing to do with the location and everything to do with his eyes on you, but he stays silent. Stays still.

Even as he watches you fall apart on his brother's cock and soak the satin sheets beneath him. Even as Tommy does the thing that Joel’s been dreaming about every night for days, filling you up with his release. 

He doesn’t linger. He doesn’t fix the creaky hinges, either.

Joel barely makes it back to his truck before he’s reaching into his jeans to stroke his cock, right there in the driveway in broad fucking daylight.

It only takes a few quick tugs before he covers his hand in sticky ropes of cum. He tries to catch his breath, wiping the mess you’ve made of him onto his jeans and driving home ten over the limit. Before he makes it inside to shower and change, Joel sends a text message to both you and Tommy that reads; Okay. I’m in. My place. Friday night at ten.

He tries not to think about it too much. Tries to go on about his work week like normal, going through the motions of making dinner each night and taking Sarah to school every morning with Tommy in the passenger seat.

They don’t talk about it, though Joel can sometimes feel his brother staring at him a little too long as if there’s something he wants to say. But he doesn’t. They don’t bring it up until after Joel drops Sarah off at her friend’s house for another weekend-long slumber party. 

Tommy says, “I’m gonna take her out for dinner. Do you want to come with us? Could help break the ice a little. Loosen you up.”

He agrees, and instead of going home, they pick you up from your house. You’re wearing a pleated blue skirt that’s a little too short, but Joel thinks you look like something divine. Tommy helps you up into the truck, and everything starts to feel real the moment you’re sitting between them. Joel behind the wheel, Tommy on the passenger side.

You look so small in the center of the cab, surrounded by two brothers who possess nothing but longing for you. Like pretty prey caught in the clutches of two predators.

Joel has to readjust himself in his seat when you lean over and press a kiss to his cheek. Sweet. “Missed you,” you say. “You look good. You both do.”

He doesn’t comment on the fact that they’re both still in their work attire; dirty blue jeans, sun-faded t-shirts, and muddy boots. He’s surprised to hear your appreciation, considering how put together you always seem to be.

But maybe that’s the appeal for you. The blue-collar archetype. Your daddy probably expects you to marry the son of one of his friends, just another rich boy.

If he could see you now…

Tommy slides his hand to the inside of your thigh and squeezes. “You hungry, princess? Let’s get you somethin’ to eat.”

As much as he hates to admit when his brother’s right, dinner works wonders for Joel’s nerves. The three of you talk the entire time; you tell Joel about your friends and the subjects you’re studying in that fancy college you got into on a full ride. It’s not the one your father wanted you to attend, but it’s the one you wanted.

Even though he knows Tommy has heard it all before, he lets you and Joel have this moment. He sits beside you and smiles at you as you speak, eyes glued to the side of your face and full of adoration. Joel realizes then that he thinks his brother might be in love with you.

He gets it. Thinks it must have been a real easy fall.

Tommy slots himself in the conversation naturally. The two of you clue Joel in on some of your inside jokes and it doesn’t feel weird at all. He doesn’t feel left out like he’d worried he might be, and he doesn’t feel jealous when you steal bites from Tommy’s plate because you steal things from Joel’s, too.

It’s easy. Nothing feels forced, no conversation out of place.

Halfway through the meal, you switch sides of the booth and sit next to Joel instead. You lay your head on his shoulder and he holds your hand beneath the table and it feels right. Tommy smiles at the two of you and carries on with his story as if the dynamic you’ve created has existed for years and not just hours.

When it’s time to go home, Joel finds that his nerves have completely vanished.

Tommy offers to drive. And he’s thankful for it because it allows him to focus on just you.

You take Joel’s hand and lay it in your lap, palm open. He shivers as you trace the lines in his hand. You ask him, “How are you feeling?”

And the answer comes to him easily. “Good,” he says. “Better.”

“Told you,” Tommy says, one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh. “She’s a real good girl, Joel. Always does as she’s told.”

Even though the sun is setting below the horizon, he can see the crimson that stains your cheeks and it brings a smile to his face. “S’that right?” He takes your chin gently in his hand and forces you to look up at him. “You a real good listener, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, she is,” Tommy answers wistfully. “Why don’t you g’’head and give Joel some sugar, princess.”

You lean into Joel’s side, pressing a kiss to his jaw. It feels good just being close to you, holding you in his hands, but when you touch him, it’s something else entirely. An uncontrollable desire, an unfamiliar sort of decadence.

Joel cradles your face in his big hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone, and gently presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, a tender curiosity. He kisses you again, a little more heated this time, and when he flicks his tongue across your bottom lip you grant him access as if it’s second nature. 

His tongue explores yours, tangling together, invading your sweet mouth. Joel thinks you taste a little like honey and a whole lot like fortuity. If you had asked him ten years ago if he’d ever imagined he’d be in this spot, tasting the inside of his brother’s girlfriend’s mouth, Joel would have said it was a delusional thought. 

Yet here he was, cock stiffening in his jeans from something as simple as a kiss. Like he’s some teenage boy, experiencing a woman for the first time.

But it is his first time experiencing you, and Joel knows that’s what makes all the difference. 

The kiss turns sloppy and desperate. And when your panting breaths turn to moans, Joel realizes Tommy’s hand on your thigh has disappeared beneath your skirt.

It surprises him, the magnitude of the moment. Joel would have thought he’d feel jealous somehow, envious that his brother’s touching you and he’s not. But there’s nothing but satisfaction to be found. Joel likes to see the dark look in your eye, likes to see your breath hitch in your throat.

He takes your legs and spreads them wide, draping your thigh over his, giving his brother more room to touch you.

“What do you think, brother? Think we should give her what she needs before we even get home?”

Your face is so close to his that your breath fans across his spit-covered lips as you say so beautifully, “Please, Joel.”

A smirk finds its way to his mouth. “You look so fuckin’ pretty when you beg, sweetheart,” he says. “S’that what you want? Hm?”

You nod frantically, eyes pleading.

“Hold your skirt up, baby,” Tommy instructs. And you do as he says without question, fabric bunching around your hips. 

Joel can’t deny the pleasure he finds in discovering you’re completely bare beneath. Even from his spot in the passenger seat, he can see how glossy your pussy is with arousal, desperate to be touched by both of them. “Oh…look at that, Tommy. She wants it bad, doesn’t she?”

“Always does, brother. Needy little thing. S’why she needs the two of us,” Tommy says. His fingers trail lazily over your slit, a teasing caress. He presses his index finger against your clit and makes a satisfied hum, a sound that comes from somewhere deep in his chest. “Can feel your heartbeat right here, princess. Tell Joel what you want.”

“I want him to touch me,” you say, a little bit breathless. “Want him to make me cum while you kiss me. You taste so good, Joel. You make me so wet.”

The words don’t sound filthy or obscene in your voice, despite how vulgar they are. Joel squeezes your jaw in his hand and delights in the way you grin when he says, “Eyes on me, sweetheart. Wanna see the look on your face when he fills you up with his fingers.”

You’re so pretty, Joel thinks. But it’s nothing compared to the way your pupils dilate as his brother stretches you open. Your lips part and Joel takes the opportunity to crush his mouth to yours, to taste the sweetness you possess. 

He drinks up your moans as Tommy sets a steady pace between your thighs. Joel grabs the back of your knee with a rough hand and spreads your legs further apart. He can hear how wet you are, can feel the goosebumps as they form down the column of your throat.

Joel pulls away from your spellbinding kiss only to catch his breath. “How’s it feel, baby? That feel good, hm? Tommy takin’ good care of you?”

“Yes, yes—mmm—fuck. His hands are so big, feel so fucking good,” you whimper. One hand is clutching Joel’s shirt, holding on for dear life, and you move the other to rest on his cock. You gently knead it over his jeans, and he wonders if you can feel just how hard he is for you.

It doesn’t take long until his brother has you trembling. Your thighs shake and a crease forms between your brows as you chase after the relief you seek.

He kisses you again, tongue brushing against yours, and when you breathe Joel’s name into his mouth he knows what you need before you even ask. 

Slowly, experimentally, Joel’s hand on your knee travels upwards. Over the soft skin of your thigh, taking it all in, savoring you—and then his fingers are circling your clit while Tommy’s are shoved deep inside of you, curved to hit the perfect spot, and you come undone within seconds. 

“Oh, God, Tommy, I—”

“I know, baby, it’s okay. Go ahead,” he says, giving you full permission. 

The words are the last thing you need to reach the full height of euphoria. You’re reduced to a trembling mess in his hands and Joel thinks this is so much better than his dreams. Better than standing in the doorway, watching you, wishing he could hold you.

“That’s it,” Joel praises. “There you go. Bein’ so good for us, sweetheart.” Wetness coats his fingers as he continues to circle your clit until your breath stutters in your chest. He kisses you hard as Tommy’s rhythm begins to slow, eventually stilling completely. 

You wince as they both pull their hands away from you at the same time, a synchronized movement. 

Tommy pulls the truck into Joel’s driveway and chuckles as he looks at you, skirt still hiked up around your hips, limbs boneless. He strokes the side of your face and kisses your hair. “You’re alright, princess. We’re just gettin’ started.”

Joel climbs out of the truck and adjusts your skirt, holding you with an arm around your waist to ensure your balance until both feet are on the ground. Tommy comes to your side and slides his hand into yours, handing Joel the keys.

While he works to unlock the front door, Joel can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet giggles. He looks over his shoulder to see his brother kissing your neck and grabbing your ass, and the two of you look so infatuated with one another that it’s intoxicating. A magnetism he can’t help but be drawn to, a warmth he wants to embrace.

The minute you walk in the door you’ve got your hands on Joel again. You slip them beneath his t-shirt and he’s thrilled to give you what you want. He pulls it off over his head, discarding it on the back of the couch, and lets out a pleased sigh as you begin peppering wet kisses over his chest, down his sternum, fingers grabbing needily at his skin. 

Tommy stands behind you as you lower yourself to your knees between them. He runs his hands through your hair lovingly and says, “Show him what you do best, baby.”

You smile up at him and it takes Joel’s breath away. He’s never seen someone so pleased to please him, never felt this wanted in all his life. The metal of his belt buckle clinks against the button of his jeans as you undo them, pulling down his zipper in a way that’s familiar to you now.

When you pull his cock out, you wrap one hand around it and guide the tip to your mouth. He’s so hard already that he aches, but the feel of your soft tongue on him grants him ease. You lick every inch of him, an indulgent sort of torture. And then you’re swallowing him down, creating a tight seal with your plush lips.

Your mouth feels like heaven, Joel thinks.

“Look at the way she’s got her legs pressed together,” Tommy murmurs, thumb caressing your temple gently. “Gets so turned on with a dick in her mouth she just doesn’t know what to do with herself.”

“We’re gonna take care of that for you,” Joel says, cupping your jaw in his hand. He shifts it a little lower and can feel the outline of his cock through your throat as you swallow him down, gasping for air you never once ask for. “Gonna take care of everythin’ for you, sweetheart.”

Pleasure coils around his spine, a vise-like grip that threatens to end this night well before he’s ready for it.

Tommy grabs a handful of your hair and draws your head back. Strands of spit still connect you to him and drool runs down your chin. It’s the most pornographic thing he’s ever seen. Tommy laughs and says, “I know, brother. S’almost too good.”

Joel knows it should be a strange thing to hear, but it feels innate. He helps you back to your feet and pulls your shirt over your head while Tommy unzips the back of your skirt and slides it down your legs.

You turn and wrap your arms around Tommy’s neck and he lifts you up in his arms like it’s second nature. Joel supposes it is—the two of you have had a whole lot more practice together than he has. Tommy starts towards the stairs, heading towards Joel’s bedroom, but you let out a whine and reach out for him.

He can’t deny how warm it makes him feel, seeing you all wrapped up in his brother but still reaching for his hand. The smile you give him the moment he touches you makes his heart constrict in his chest. It’s such a soft, intimate moment, and Joel can think of nothing but your conversation on the phone last week.

You worried about catching feelings for me, Joel Miller?

He wasn’t a week ago. But now…? Now, he’s not so sure.

Tommy lays you down in the center of Joel’s bed and the sight of it pushes away his anxiety. You’re so beautiful with your hair splayed out behind you, an angelic sort of halo. The thought crosses his mind that you might have always been meant to exist in his bed.

It feels like second nature to crawl over you, to let his hands roam over your chest, your ribs, your hips. Joel follows each caress with a kiss, mouth following the echo of his hands. He sucks a bruise into your hip, ensuring this moment is real with physical, tangible evidence.

When he gets to the crease of your thigh, Joel sits up and spreads your legs wide. “Look at that,” he whispers. Tommy’s pulling off his worn t-shirt and working on his jeans but pauses long enough to appreciate the sight of your pussy, glossy with arousal and what remains of your first release. “She’s so fuckin’ pretty, ain’t she?”

“Yeah, she is,” Tommy agrees. “Taste’s real pretty, too.” He leans over and presses his mouth to yours, a messy, needy sort of kiss. You whimper as Tommy asks, “What d’you think, princess? Think Joel should get a taste? Hm?”

“Yes,” you say without hesitation. “I want it so bad, Tommy, please.”

“Want it, huh?” Joel slots himself between your thighs, his mouth an inch from where that ache resides. “Maybe we should make her wait a little longer, Tommy. Make her wait ‘til she needs it.”

“No, no, please,” you cry. You buck your hips, trying to find reprieve, but Joel’s hands on your waist hold firm. “I do, I do, I need it, Joel, please, please.”

He looks to his brother to make the decision. Tommy’s got a wicked grin on his face as he watches you writhe on Joel’s sheets. “Think you’ve been real good today. But don’t go forgettin’ your manners, princess. When Joel licks that pretty pussy of yours, you better say thank you.”

The moment he slides his tongue through your slit, your spine bends, arching off the mattress. Your shoulders slump and your breath comes fast. “Oh my god,” you moan. “Thank you, Joel, fuck.”

He tries to give you the same tentative treatment you’ve given him; tracing every inch of you with the flat of his tongue, memorizing the sweet taste, sucking your clit into his mouth. He can feel it pulse with need, and Joel understands the fever.

Your thighs clamp down around his head but Joel doesn’t mind. He just presses his mouth against you harder and flicks his tongue a little faster.

“Tommy,” you whimper. Joel looks up to see your chest heave with each shaking breath. You reach out for his brother with trembling fingers.

“I’m comin', baby,” Tommy says softly. “Don’t you worry.” The mattress dips beneath his weight as he kneels beside you. He cradles your head in his hand, supporting your neck while he eases his cock into your mouth. 

It’s the hottest thing Joel Miller has ever seen in his fucking life.

You grind yourself against his face and he supplies the friction you seek. Arousal coats his facial hair, enveloping his senses in nothing but you. Your moans, your taste, your scent—you, you you. He thinks he’ll never want it any other way but this.

Tommy guides your mouth with a hand wrapped in the tangled strands of your hair. He fucks your face and you whimper around his cock like there’s nothing else in the world that could ever compare. He smiles down at you and says, “You’re gonna make her cum, Joel. Can you feel it? Get’s real sloppy when she’s right there, right on the edge.”

Joel groans against you and focuses his mouth on your clit, giving him just enough room to slip a finger inside you to massage that sweet spot.

You stretch your arms above you and fist your hands in the sheets. When you reach the summit, Joel can feel it on his tongue, can feel your pussy tighten around his finger, can feel your thighs shake around his head.

Tommy pulls your head back, giving you a moment to breathe as another orgasm surges through you. Your moans echo in Joel’s room, the prettiest-sounding symphony he’s ever heard. “Good fuckin’ girl,” Tommy praises, just as breathless as you. “Bein’ such a good girl for us, baby.”

Joel doesn’t relent, doesn’t stop licking your clit until you’re giggling and twisting in his hands at the overstimulation. You sound so satisfied, so happy. It pleases him to see the elation on your face. When he finally pulls away, Joel snakes his arms beneath you and pulls you up to your knees. “So good,” Joel agrees. “But she’s gonna give us another one, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

All you can do is nod and it makes both brothers laugh.

“She’s usually got so much to say,” Tommy teases. “Think we’ve got her fucked dumb, brother.”

“That’s alright,” Joel whispers. “We’ll do all the thinkin’ for her, hm? Take such good care of this sweet little pussy. Turn around, baby. On your hands and knees.”

You do as he says blissfully, ass arched beautifully on display for him. Tommy maneuvers himself in front of you and you take him in your mouth on instinct. Second nature, habitual.

Joel positions himself behind you and slides the head of his cock through your slit. “This what you want, sweet girl? This what you dream of?”

Leaning back, you stroke Tommy with your hand and look up at him as you answer Joel’s question. “Yes,” you say. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since I saw you. Knew I needed you, Joel. Knew I needed you both.”

“Three’s a crowd, princess,” Tommy says. “But I think I like this one.”

Joel’s inclined to agree. He pushes into you slowly, sighing in contentment at the gratifying tightness. You’re so wet, so warm. “Goddamn, baby,” he groans, gripping the supple flesh of your ass to keep himself tethered to earth, to keep himself grounded. 

Tommy holds your face in his hands, smoothing his cock over your lips. “Oh, she likes it, Joel,” he says. “Should see her face. Can I take a picture, baby? So Joel can see how happy you look with his dick all up in your guts? Hm?”

The words are crude but Joel can feel you tighten around him as Tommy speaks. “Mmhm,” is all you can say, sticking your tongue out to lick the underside of Tommy’s cock.

He reaches over to the nightstand where his cell phone sits. Tommy angles his phone just right, and the shutter echoes in the room as he takes his photos.

Joel pushes into you real slow. And when he’s buried to the hilt you let out a gasp and hold onto Tommy’s thigh for support, balance wavering. “It feels so fucking good,” you say.

Tommy takes a couple more photos, tries a couple of different angles. But Joel thinks no image will ever beat the one in front of him.

He watches your pussy stretch to make room for him, watches you soak his cock, desperate for it. Tilting his hips forward, Joel sets a steady pace, easily finding a rhythm that has you moaning out his name. 

Satisfied with his work, Tommy sets his phone back on the nightstand in favor of the filthy exhibit before him. He guides his cock back to your mouth, groaning at the feel of your tongue. 

Joel thrusts into you and feels that coil begin to form around the base of his spine again.

You’re moaning around Tommy’s cock and he’s smiling like there’s no place else he’d rather be. Joel understands that, too—because he thinks you’re the most perfect girl that could have ever stumbled into their lives. “S’this what you needed, princess? Needed us both, hm? Dirty little girl.”

“Our girl,” Joel muses, captivated by the way you squeeze him as he says it. He fits so perfectly inside you, like you were made for him, made for this. “Stretchin’ her out so easy, brother. Sweet little pussy’s just cryin’ for it.”

Tommy’s head falls back and his hips stutter. “Just like that, princess,” he praises gently. “Yeah, shit—gonna swallow it all like a good little girl, ain’t you?” 

You make a sound of approval at the back of your throat. Joel can see you look up at his brother, cock-drunk and starry-eyed, and he feels his chest pull tight with a strange sense of pride.

Joel slows his pace just a little, long enough for Tommy to take what he needs from you, for you to focus on just him. And then he’s breathing hard as he holds your head still, nose pressed against his navel. His shoulders draw tight and then gradually relax as he spills his release at the back of your throat. 

When Tommy pulls out of you, his cock is covered in spit and cum but you do as he says, dutifully swallowing it all up like the perfect girl you are. And you even clean any remaining mess with your tongue, licking it up with sweet reverence.

He’s close—so close it aches, but he wants you to give him another before this is other. Wants to make it worth your while, wants to know how it feels to make you cum while he’s buried deep inside you. 

You arch your back and press your cheek against the mattress, looking back at Joel from over your shoulder.

Tommy moves to your side, smoothing your hair out of your face with one hand, and then he slips the other beneath you and circles your clit with skilled, deft fingers.

The response is instantaneous. Joel can feel your pussy pulse around him, sees the strain on your face as you fight the pleasure. You say his brother's name like a prayer shrouded in ecstasy.

But Tommy just shakes his head. “Nah, princess. Ain’t up to me this time. You gotta ask Joel permission.”

He doesn’t understand at first, this almost silent communication between the two of you. But then you say, “Joel, please. Please please, I need to cum so bad, it feels too good.”

You sound so fucking pretty, begging for him like that. “Been so good…I think you’ve earned it,” he says gently. “Go ‘head, sweetheart.”

Tommy continues to circle your clit as you clench around Joel’s cock, uttering quiet praises in your ear. 

You tighten around him and Joel’s right there, right there—and then you say, “Cum with me, Joel, please. Cum with me, I wanna feel it.”

And it sends him over the edge. His name in your mouth, begging him to fill you up. He buries himself so deep inside you that there’s no telling where he ends and you begin, and it’s the best orgasm he’s ever had in his fucking life. 

You shudder beneath him and Joel leans forward, pressing his forehead to your spine. He thrusts into you until the last drop, giving you all of it, giving you everything he has to offer.

As you come down, Tommy pulls his hand from beneath you and combs his fingers through your hair. He’s got that stupid grin on his face, but Joel’s not sure he’s ever seen his brother this happy before. 

The three of you just lay there for a moment, saying nothing, unmoving, basking in the afterglow. Joel’s not quite sure how he’s meant to navigate this, not sure what he’s supposed to say or how he’s supposed to feel about the fact that the best sex he’s ever had was with his brother’s little girlfriend. 

But he does know how to take care of a woman. So, he does. Joel eases himself out of you and disappears for only long enough to find a washcloth, wet it with cool water from the bathroom sink, and grab an icy bottle of water from the fridge. 

When he returns to his bedroom, Tommy holds you in his arms while you speak to him in a hushed tone. It worries him a little, truthfully.

So when Joel sits on the side of his bed to clean the light sheen of sweat off your forehead and the mess between your legs, he asks, “Everythin’ okay?”

“Everything’s good. So, so good,” you answer easily, giving him one of those honeyed smiles.

Tommy takes the bottle of water from Joel’s hand and breaks the seal. “Drink,” he says, passing it to you. And you do, listening so obediently.

But the moment your hands are free again you say, “Joel? Can I ask you something?”

“Anything,” he says. And he means it. Whatever it is you need, whatever it is you want, Joel wants to give to you. He’s come to understand his brother in this, too.

“Do you think you’d want to…I don’t know. Maybe we could do it again?”

He laughs. Genuinely, truly laughs, because Tommy’s been right this whole time. You’re insatiable.

But you quickly amend your words. Saying, “I mean, not…not now. But maybe…maybe I could stay? For the weekend?”

Joel finds the thought of you leaving at the end of the night an unbearable one. And he knows he’ll likely feel the same once Sunday evening rolls around, and he’s not quite sure what that means for him or you or Tommy…but maybe it’s not something he has to worry about today. 

He kisses your forehead and says, “‘Course you can, sweetheart.”

And then you’re reaching for him again, urging him beneath the sheets. You lay your head on Joel’s chest and drape your leg over Tommy’s hip, and you look so at ease, so peaceful that his heart constricts at the sight. You’re so good, so sweet, and Joel thinks he’d do anything to keep you happy.

Later, as your soft snores and shallow breaths fill the silence, Tommy playfully kicks Joel in the shin and says, “Ain’t no use tryin’ to talk yourself off the ledge, brother. Easier to just enjoy the freefall. Take it day by day.”

Joel thinks his brother might be right. Thinks that this might get complicated and messy and dangerous…but for now, for today…he’ll savor the sugary sweetness while it lasts.

[feirceangel]

How about a feyd x reader where feyd has reader watch him in the arena to gain her favor. She is impressed with him and respects his prowess. Just before a huge match what if she goes to him and leaves a hand print in paint over his heart as her token rather than a sash like the others. This fires him up/ looks super cool on his skin.

Ooh I love this!! I did my own spin on it but I hope you still enjoy! :)

Imagine | Stained (Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen)

Word Count: 1,377

Warnings: biting

Cheers rise into the polluted air on Giedi Prime, a torrent of frenzied noise which alerts you to the occurrence of yet another gladiatorial event.

You hadn't realized there would be one today. Normally, you notice the announcements and the crowds gathering to go see the festivities. You don't often join them.

Watching people fight to death. . . it's not a habit of yours.

Lately though, you've noticed how often Feyd has been mentioning his fights, never outright asking you to watch them but leaving plenty of hints.

Being from a wealthy family has its benefits, especially on a harsh place such as this. Ever since you've been here, you've tried to make the best of it and befriend as many native Harkonnens as you can.

This first, and dare you say only, friend-adjacent connection you've made has been with Feyd-Rautha.

His brother is too animalistic and angry for your liking, and the Baron is a ghastly man you do not like to interact with. Servants won't speak to you and the Mentat Piter is sickening in his sadistic tendencies.

So, to your surprise, you got to know Feyd the best out of them all.

He's brutal, yes. Menacing and violent as well.

And so alone.

Sure, he has his concubines: his pets that he plays with but soon grows bored of. And yes, he has his mockery of a family: a predatory uncle and a nasty brother.

Yet you can see past his façade of aloofness, see into his inner self. And what you see is a man forged by others into what he is now.

You see a hurting man who doesn't know anything close to true kindness.

So yes, he is wild and vicious. But there is an intelligence and cunning within those dark eyes that you have seen countless times. 

He's constantly observing, waiting for his moment to strike. He knows how to play his hand to benefit himself.

Despite his more undesirable traits, you'd dare call him a friend.

The cheering dies down as colourless fireworks burst in the air like ink stains. You watch them, casually leaning against the balcony railing.

Feyd finds you immediately, half undressed and still painted for fighting in the triangular colosseum.

"My lady," he rasps, approaching from behind slowly. "You did not watch the fights."

"It slipped my mind," you reply honestly. "Though I have no doubts you remain the champion, my lord."

His lips quirk upwards, "Naturally."

Your eyes roam over his blood splattered body, taking in the well-defined muscles which are decorated with paint. He's shirtless, how could you not stare?

He basks in your attention, cocky smirk never leaving his face. But it strains once you turn your attention away.

Feyd comes to lean against the rail beside you. You feel his eyes on you.

"You're coming to the next fight," he finally says once he realizes you're content to dwell in the silence.

You turn to face him with a smile, "Am I?"

His eyes narrow, voice quick and sharp, "Yes."

"You didn't ask."

Feyd tilts his head, "It's not a request."

"A command, my lord?"

"Yes," he repeats, leaning closer into your space. Your teasing tone is getting under his skin, you can tell. He's almost touching you now but you don't retreat.

This is the game you play.

"I suppose I can attend the next fight," you hum thoughtfully.  "Especially since you've requested it personally."

He backs away slowly and you force yourself into staying still even as you desire to chase after him. His close proximity is intoxicating.

As if he senses your inner battle, he grins and nods to you before sauntering away.

"I will put on a good show for you, my lady."

You find yourself alone, wishing he had stayed longer.

~~~

It was not mentioned again, and now you find yourself in your room preparing for the event. You dress modestly, still unaccustomed to the fashions on Giedi Prime. A black dress does nicely, with your hair loose. 

You still have plenty of time before your attendance is necessary, but you traverse to the arena despite this. The hallways are as colorless as everywhere else, a maze of black and white. 

Feyd is being dressed as you enter the room. His sharp eyes betray a smidge of surprise which he masks underneath an air of haughtiness. 

The servants attending him walk on eggshells, knowing that any wrong move could cause their demise. 

"You may be dismissed," you say, addressing the servants. 

Their eyes flicker to you with uncertainty. The servants do not move until Feyd snarls, "Do as she says!"

Instantly, they are gone. 

And it's just you and the warrior. 

You approach him slowly, picking up the paint pot that the servant abandoned. Circling him, you note how his eyes never leave you, even when he has to twist his head to keep you in his sights. 

"My lord, I hope you can forgive my impertinence, showing up here unannounced."

"Don't be coy," he narrows his eyes, "You're not sorry."

"You're right," you chuckle, swirling the paintbrush through the inky paint. "I'm not sorry to see you, especially like this." 

You rake your eyes over his flesh, barely concealed by a cloth wrapped around his waist. He is truly a fine specimen of a man. 

"May I?" You ask, stopping in front of him. 

He inclines his head. He hadn't been expecting this, since you seemed intent on avoiding the fights entirely. 

You begin by painting the smaller rectangles across his chest and then move to his back. Your brushstrokes are slow, methodic.

He anticipates each cool touch as you meticulously paint his flawless skin. He wishes it was your touch he was feeling, your hands against his skin. He craves it.

Next, you adorn his abdomen, barely concealing the excitement you feel being this close to him. As you finish, he reaches for his clothes but you stop him with a hand on his arm. 

"I'm not finished, my lord."

Intrigued, he returns his arm to his side, staring you down. 

You coat the palm of your right hand with the inky black liquid, never breaking eye contact with Feyd. He doesn't stop you as you press your hand against his warm chest, right where his heart would be. 

You start to pull away, but he is quick to grip your wrist, keeping you in place. For a second, you are concerned that you went too far. Maybe this is the day he kills you for your insolence?

Instead, he lunges forward, catching you in a hungry kiss. He bites and takes, and you surrender with ease. A sense of relief and excitement floods your senses as you kiss back just as passionately.  

"It is fitting," he says once he parts from you. 

He watches as you slowly peel your hand from his skin, leaving a perfect handprint over his heart. 

"What is?"

"That you should mark me like this," he grins to reveal blackened teeth. "You are a stain on my heart."

"How so?" You're still breathless, allured by his gravelly voice. 

"All it longs for is your touch, you vixen."

You caress his cheek, "I'm just marking what I own. And once you're declared the victor, you can come claim what's yours." 

Your words ignite a fire in him and he starts forward but you step back. 

His glare is venomous, as if you just deprived him of oxygen. 

"You have a fight to win, Feyd. Shouldn't you be preparing?"

Turning, you begin to walk away. 

A rough hand snatches your shoulder, and a hot mouth is on your neck before you can blink. He bites down harshly, drawing spots of blood. The pain is expected when dealing with a man like Feyd, but it is still surprising. 

You really have gotten under his skin. 

He releases the pressure of his teeth and drags his tongue over the wound. 

"You needed a mark too, my sweet."

You turn and press a chaste kiss to the top of his head, "Go make me proud, Feyd. I shall see you in your chambers after the fight."

He lets you leave, watching with blood stained lips. 

"As you command, so it shall be."

[please like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed!]

[rafeandonlyrafe]

kildare enduro

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, fingering, nipple play, p in v sex, unprotected sex, loner reader, brief talk about wards death, takes place during s4e1 (no sofia.), drinking, kind of drunk sex but they actually specifically say they dont want to be that drunk

“not just john b- look at that other late entry…” the announcer says, looking to his co-host also positioned in front of a microphone.

“do you recognize who is under that helmet?” he asks.

“i do not… i guess we have a mystery contender as well.”

rafe looks over the crowd, frowning inside of his helmet when he realizes there's no one here to cheer him on, eyes glaring with jealousy at the crowd of pogues. it's one of his biggest complaints about the event, the fact that they're allowed to compete too with their shit bikes and even worse racing abilities.

“and that bike… is that a modified ktm 450 rally? that's a beautiful machine. not too different from rafe camerons. looks like they'll be the ones to watch today.”

the announcers statement has rafe looking over, seeing the blacked out bike with metallic purple and blue accents, and the equally blacked out face mask, not allowing him to see who it is underneath.

“thats got to be the most expensive bike racing here today. dominated last years dakar rally, and pretty much every endurance race it's entered into.”

“very excited to see what the modifications are, looks like enhanced tires for driving through the sand…” 

rafe drones out the voices, focusing on the race to come, especially knowing he's got stiff competition this year.

he takes a deep breath, watching the green flag raise high in the sky before dropping quickly, and he's off like a bolt of lightning, sand spewing up behind him.

he gets instantly to the front, but he can hear someone on his tail. a quick glance to his right reveals the metallic bike, skidding over the top of the sand like it doesn't weigh a pound.

“rafe cameron has the early lead, but our late entry is hot on his tail! this could cause trouble for our previous winner.”

rafe takes the turn and is overtaken, but not by more than a wheel.

“looks like rafe cameron is just beat out as they head into the trees!” the commentator shouts, the crowd clamoring to figure out who knows the rider currently in the lead and pulling away.

rafe doesn't let the other bike get farther than a length ahead as he heads into the whoops, the bike soaring into the air before touching down.

rafe smirks under the mask when the driver ahead briefly loses control, wheel wobbling as it hits an uneven patch of dirt, and rafe speeds ahead, taking advantage of every small mistake.

he's not ahead for long, as his bike stutters in speed heading through the dip in the road, water causing his wheels to spin, while the racer in all black and deep purple speeds past, leaving rafe to groan in frustration, especially when he turns and realizes other bikers aren't far behind.

“and here they come! around the bouy and-oh! cameron just made contact with our leader, it looks like he's getting sick of being behind, and overtakes around the turn with our mystery driver right on his heels!”

rafe smirks as he retakes the lead, not willing to let some random take over his win. rafe pops his front wheel up, revving the engine and coaxing more speed out of the bike, knowing sand is flying in the faces of the riders behind him.

“this race is turning out to be a real nail biter, it could be anyone's game as they head back into the trees.”

“wait, wait- is that? JJ MAYBANK IS GOING TO JUMP THE INLET!”

the crowd of people goes wild as jj leapfrogs to the front of the pack, touching down just in front of the new leader, with rafe hot on his back tire as well.

“and our mystery rider is closing in fast, it looks like jj isn't going to maintain his lead. there could be some serious drama at the end of our race here.”

rafe growls as the bikes all come side by side, squeezing jj in the middle. rafe watches as the other riders leg comes out and kicks at the side of jjs bike, pushing into him, and rafe barely manages to brake and get out of the way, falling behind jj.

“fuck!” rafe shouts. there's no way he's losing to a random rider and maybank. he revs on the throttle, touching the front wheel against jjs back and shoving his bike to the side, not looking back as he careens into the air, managing to keep himself right way up and barely make it to the finish line ahead of topper.

“our mystery rider takes the win! i am dying to know who is under that helmet!” the commentators calls out as the checkered flag is waved.

“ladies and gentlemen, it looks like your enduro champion is…” the entire crowd watches with baited breath as the blacked out helmet comes off, and long flowing hair comes tumbling down.

there's an audible gasp, and rafe has to blink to make sure there isn't sand in his eyes and what he's seeing is real.

“is that… y/f/n y/l/n? i think it is! who even knew she raced? what an amazing, showstopping performance from the female rider!”

rafe tugs his helmet off, shoving down the kickstand on his bike. “y/n?” rafe shouts out.

he doesn't know you very well, not very well at all, but your reputation precedes you. graduated a few years before him, you've always been seen as one of the top kooks, your family being established in the area for generations.

“oh, hey.” you smile at him, fingers running through your hair as the crowd surges in now that the bikes have halted. “good race.” you look him up and down. “i mean, i guess not good enough though.”

“this is our first female winner in kildare enduro history! ladies and gentleman, give it up again for y/n.”

“let's go!” you scream out as someone lifts you into the air, raising your helmet far over your head.

rafe knows second means nothing as he grunts angrily. he kicks himself for messing up in the woods, if he would have come out before you there's no way he wouldn't be the one being celebrated at the moment.

--

“on me.” you state to rafe as you slide a beer over the counter to him, coming to take a seat next to him, sipping on your own.

“shouldn't you be celebrating or some shit?” rafe questions, his voice low and rough as he watches a drop of beer sip down your chin.

“i am celebrating.” you state. “what does it look like?”

“where's all your friends and shit?” rafe looks around, expecting to see the same gaggle of girls you used to hang around with in high school.

“what friends?” you scoff under your breath, before frowning and looking at rafe. “i don't see anyone with you either. not even topper. he's not your little servant anymore?”

“me and top are fine.” rafe says. in truth, he's pushed everyone away since wards death, and eventually topper stopped trying, stopped checking in.

“mhm.” you hum, finishing off your beer and flagging down the bartender for another.

“since when did you race anyways?” 

“always have.” you shrug, looking over at rafe, realizing for the first time now that you're up close to him how dazzling his eyes are. “just kept it to myself. not exactly a lady like hobby.”

“a hobby?” rafe scoffs. “you call the way you raced a hobby?”

“i was shit today.” you shake your head. “made mistakes.”

“it was only with your slight mistakes that i was even close.”

“watch yourself, cameron.” you take a sip of your beer. “it sounds like you're starting to be nice to me.”

“sounds like you need someone to be nice to you.” rafe is shocked by the fact that no one seems to care that the enduro race winner is in the bar, like the shock of finding out who won quickly wore off, leaving you alone once again.

“i like being alone.” you state, swallowing harshly to hide your true emotions. “all friends turn out to be fake in the end.”

“family too.” rafe frowns, before finishing the rest of his beer.

“want another?” you ask, tilting your head to the side, your hair flowing over your shoulder, just urging rafe to reach out and touch.

“no.” he shakes his head. “don't wanna be too drunk.”

“too drunk for what?” you hum.

“for when i try to take you home.”

--

“fuck.” you moan, head pressing back into the pillows as rafe continues sucking on your nipple, his hand between your thighs.

“god, right there!” you squeal out as he rubs against your clit, your wetness only growing by the second.

you reach down and push at the waistband of his underwear, trying to tempt him to take them off, but rafe just switches to the other side of your chest, sucking a deep purple hickey on the side of your breasts before taking your nipple back in his mouth.

rafes finger drops to prod at your entrance, feeling how warm you are as his digit slowly sinks in, your moans only growing as you pussy sucks in his finger.

“fuck,” you whine. “need that to be your cock, come on.”

rafe keeps his movement slow as he thrusts his finger in and out, feeling the gummy texture of your walls and the way your cunt grips him, knowing he's going to love having his cock inside you.

rafe adds in a second finger, feeling you stretch and adjust as he moves back to your other nipple, his tongue dragging across your chest, not wanting to lose the taste of your skin for even a second.

the race is in the back of his mind, the last thing he wants to think about. he'd lose a million times more if it gets you in his bed, moaning and pulsing around his fingers.

“rafe-” you tug at his short hair, his head lifting up to look at you, lips pink and glossy. “fuck me.”

rafe smiles, glad that you're just as needy as he is. he regrets not pursuing you earlier, if only he knew what he was missing just down the street.

rafe shoves his underwear down and flings them off the bed. your eyes widen as you take in his length, but you can't stay looking for long as rafes lips smash into yours.

your arms wrap around his neck, tugging him in flush to your body as his cock presses against your entrance, already hard just from kissing and fingering you.

rafes lips mold perfectly to you as he presses in, and this time he doesn't bother going slow, immediately setting a fast pace as his hips move back and forth.

your kiss turns into gasps and moaning into each other's mouth, your hands coming to rafes cheeks, keeping his face close, keeping his blissed out eyes locked with yours.

“your-” rafe grunts as he fucks you. “your pussy is perfect.”

you smile and surge up to press your lips against rafes. “a winners pussy.” you can't help but continue to rub the race in, at least a little bit.

“consider this my congratulations.” rafe smirks as one hand drops to rub at your pussy, thumb stroking your clit in even movements, contrasting the rapid, desperate thrusts.

your eyes slide closed as much as you wish you could keep them open, watching rafe above you, but the pleasure is all too much as he pounds into you.

you pull your knees up, spreading your legs even wider, giving even more space for rafe to fuck into you, his thrusts turning feral as his moans turn to grunts and growls.

“want…” you gasp out. “want your cum in me.”

“you're not gonna get it that easy.” rafe smirks, suddenly flipping so you're on top, his back bouncing against the mattress as you flop forward against him, hips high in the air.

you don't let up for even a second, immediately taking over the movements as you raise and lower your cunt, bouncing on his cock.

rafe doesn't stop either, an arm circling around your waist as he thrusts up off the bed to meet you.

“gonna make me put in work even though i won?” you hum out, breasts pushing against rafes bare torso, his hard muscles stimulating your already sensitive nipples.

“damn right.” rafe smirks. “can't let you get off too easily for that maybank move.”

you tsks. “never liked that fucking pogue anyways.”

“i think i might have to marry you.” rafe chuckles, heart fluttering when he sees you smile, swearing you're glowing as he pumps his hips up into you.

“don't… stop.” you move one hand to over rafes, pushing it tight against your pussy, keeping his thumb in place as it thrumbs against you.

“im close too.” rafe states, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead as he puts all his effort into thrusting up into you, into spearing his cock as deep into your pussy as he can.

you let out a moan, and with one more swipe of rafes thumb, you're gone, entire body shaking before going slack, leaving rafe to quickly flip you over, hands coming to your hips as he pushes inside of you, cumming in spurts, filling you up with his warmth.

rafe collapses next to you the moment he finishes, arms completely giving out from the exhaustion of your activities and the earlier race.

you both breathe deeply, trying to regain some sort of mental clarity as your high wears off.

“shit.” you whine out, breaking the silence. “we gotta do that more often.”

“and…” rafe turns over, propping his head up on his elbow. “maybe get dinner together too?”

“rafe cameron, are you asking me out on a date?” you laugh.

“i just came inside of you, i don't think it should be that surprising.” rafe rolls his eyes. “besides, seems like you could use some company.”

you turn to face rafe as well, his blue eyes looking into yours. “i don't usually date losers, but i guess second place isn't too bad.”

rafe shakes his head before pressing your lips back together.

[imaginaryf1shots]

Winner | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 2.3K

Dad!Lewis x Wife!Reader

Summery: It’s lewis’s win after 945 days of not winning, and it’s also your daughter’s first race.

Warning: None

Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

The home you share with Lewis in England is a sanctuary for the two of you. it's a house filled with warmth and comfort. It's a place filled with laughter and good memories.

Deciding to make this house your main one almost 4 years ago was an easy decision for the both of you. Lewis was away racing most of the year, and since you've gotten pregnant, this was the best option, his family is there, and they've been helping you whenever Lewis is away. During his brakes, you all go back to Monaco, the home you shared with Lewis when you were dating to when you got married and until your fourth month of pregnancy. For him, the move was a return to the familiar embrace of family and the land that had shaped him. Lewis’s family had welcomed you with open arms, their support a constant source of strength.

Their love for your daughter knew no bounds. She was the light of everyone’s lives. Her bright eyes and infectious giggle, a beacon of joy.

One thing is that Lola hasn't seen her dad race in real life. The sound of the engines, the rush of the crowd, those were experiences she only saw on the TV or stories told by the adults around her.

You and Lewis talked about bringing her to a race multiple times, but you always felt like she was too young, that it would be too much for her. But seeing other drivers bring their children made Lewis want to bring her more. And as the British Grand Prix approached, it felt like it was finally time, Lewis was buzzing, Mercedes won last week. Yes, it was because Max and Lando crashed, but they still won. And the feeling he had coming into the week was great. He loves Silverstone, and he's won 8 times before. And the thought of having you and Lola there with the rest of his family was filling him up with anticipation.

That's why when Lola got a bit sick and was under the weather, he felt deflated. Was it a bad omen, will this week go wrong and not like he expected. His thoughts ran wild. Throughout media day and Friday, you've been sending him pictures of the two of you watching him. His mum was with you, but she will be going on race day. Unbeknownst to Lewis, Lola was better, so much better, but you were waiting to see if she'll stay okay or maybe get sick again. The colour returned to her cheeks, and she became active once again.

On quali day, it was bright and early, when you felt Lewis get out of bed, but took you a few minutes to will yourself to get out of bed and follow him. You walked in the direction of your daughter's room. The door was open, and the night light was still on, you watched from the door way as Lewis stood by her bed, he's been coming home late at night when Lola was already in bed.

You walked in and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him from the back, feeling his skin under your arms. Lewis leaned slightly into you. You peppered his shoulder with kisses.

“I can't wait for the summer break, I feel like I haven't been spending enough time with her.” Lewis whispers, you hum and look at her from over his shoulder.

“Soon she'll be able to travel with you to races.” You whisper back. “She's super excited about that.”

“I want to start winning again, I want her to be proud of me.” Lewis told you he sounded so vournable in that moment.

“She's already so proud of you, winning or not.” You reasure him. “She goes around saying my daddy is a champion, he won 7 times, and Nicolas taught her to say that you're the goat.”

“Did he?” Lewis smiled.

“Yeah, don't think she knows what it really means, but it has her giggling every time.” You kiss his neck and pull him slightly. You leave her sleeping.

You watch him get ready from the bed, keeping him company, it pains you not being able to be there for him on his home race weekend.

“I can hear you thinking.” Lewis says, and you smile.

“I can't help it, I want to be there for you today and tomorrow.” You pout, and Lewis smiles he walks to the side of the bed you're sitting on before he leans over and presses a few kisses to your lips.

“We can't help it, Lola comes first.” Lewis says and finishes getting ready.

“I know.”

Watching quali with Lola had so many highs and lows for you. For a second, you thought Lewis would qualify first. But alas, it was 1-2 for Mercedes.

Lewis left the track at 10 that day and was home after both you and Lola fell asleep. You slept on the sofa waiting for him. Lewis smiles seeing you on the sofa, the TV on low volume. He kisses your forehead and picks you up. You stir up and wrap your arms around him.

“I'm so proud of you, Lewis.” You mumble, and he kisses your foreheads once more. He puts you in bed before he joins you, and you gravitate towards him, you cuddle.

Kissing Lewis goodbye the next day, you start getting ready, Carmen, his mum helps Lola get ready while you get ready. You take Lola's bag filled with snacks, toys, and everything she might need or want for the day, also her medicine in case she needs it.

“Look at you so cute.” You tell Lola, seeing her in a mini race suit that is identical to Lewis’, complete with race shoes as well, and a Mercedes cap to boot.

“He'll be so happy.” Carmen tells you, and you agree. She gives you a hug, and the three of you leave. You already agreed with his team to sneak you in and not tell him.

Avoiding fans was the hardest thing, but somehow, you managed to do it. Lewis was in a meeting most of the day. This race was crucial, and a lot of planning went into it.

There was a camera following you and Lola through the Mercedes motorhome, documenting your daughter's first race. She looked around in wander.

“Look who we have here.” Toto said, smiling, seeing your daughter walking in front of you. She smiles up at the tall man, her neck bending to see his face. Toto picks her up.

“Hi, Toto Daddy doesn't know I'm here.” She says and shush him with her finger to her lips.

“Don't worry, I won't tell him.” Toto whispers and smiles. She talks with Toto for a bit before he has to go.

The plan was for one of the team to get a camera into the room Lewis was in, and somehow they did. Lola was told to go knock on the door and walk in.

She looked at you as she walked to the room. You gave her a nod and an encouraging smile. Her small hand knocks on the door, barely making a noise.

Lewis looks up at the door, he thought for a second that he heard a knock or something, it was so light, before the door is pushed open, and he looks down.

“Oh my god.” He whispers. Before he gets up from his chair and, in a few big steps, scoops her up in her arms. “Baby, what are you doing here?”

“It's a surprise, Daddy.” Lola giggles, happy that she managed to surprise her dad.

“She's been feeling much better.” You tell him from the doorway, behind the man filming the father daughter due. Seeing them together here in Mercedes brought tears to your eyes, but you managed not to let them slip. Lewis holds his hand out to you, and you slip in the room and into your husband's arms. He hugs the two of you close, and you enjoy the moment not caring about the people around you.

Lewis is fussy you realised, he's making sure that you're both comfortable in the garage, that Lola's headphones were the right size and that someone will be next to you during the race incase you needed help with anything.

And so for the next hour, the garage became your little haven. Lewis was making sure your daughter was comfortable, adjusting her headphones, and pointing out various parts of the car to her with the patient enthusiasm of a father eager to share his world. She sat perched on his lap, wide-eyed and fascinated by everything around her, her tiny fingers tracing the lines of his racing suit as if trying to memorise every detail. She was so happy when he sat in the car and placed her on his lap, steering wheel and everything.

As the time for the race drew nearer, the atmosphere in the garage grew increasingly tense. Mechanics made their final checks, the car gleamed under the bright lights, and the air was thick with anticipation. Lewis knelt down beside your daughter, his face serious now as he explained that he had to go and get ready. She listened intently, nodding solemnly, and then wrapped her arms around his neck in a tight hug.

“Go win, Daddy,” she said, her voice full of quiet determination.

With one last kiss for each of you, Lewis stood up, took a deep breath, and headed towards his car. You watched him go, your heart swelling with pride and love.

As the engines roared to life and the cars began to line up on the grid, you held your daughter close, her eyes fixed on the track, her face alight with the same eager anticipation that filled the air. Today is a day you would cherish forever, no matter what the outcome of the race might be.

The start of the race looked good, with Lewis and George keeping the rest of the grid behind them. You grew anxious when the Mclarens over took them after Lewis was leading.

Lap 33 George had to retire his car, and it left you worried for Lewis’ car. Mclaren was leading, but the strategy from Mercedes and Lewis’ experience played a good part for him to take the lead and stay ahead of Lando. Lola sat wide-eyed and mesmerised by the spectacle unfolding before her. Lewis’s car was a blur as it streaked past the garage. You could see the intensity in his movements from the onboard, every turn, and manoeuvre executed with the precision and grace of a seasoned champion. A mix of nerves and excitement coursing through your veins. Your daughter clapped her hands in delight every time she spotted her father’s car, her infectious excitement breaking your own tension and bringing a smile to your face.

”There he is, Mummy! Look! Daddy’s winning!” She exclaimed, her voice enthusiastic, filled with pure love as she watched her daddy do what he he loved and was passionate about.

Max came out of nowhere and overtook Lando easily. Your heart dropped as the last 5 laps went on, Max is catching Lewis, your heart beating hard in your chest. The anticipation was killing you. Then, as the race entered its final lap, a hush fell over the garage, the anticipation reaching a fever pitch. Lewis was leading, and Max was too far to try and overtake.

Lola leaned forward, her eyes wide with awe as she watched the drama unfold. “Is Daddy going to win, Mummy?” she asked, her voice filled with a mixture of excitement and uncertainty.

You squeezed her hand, your own emotions a blend of hope and fear. “He will.” You replied, your voice catching in your throat as you watched the final lap play out before you.

The entire grange was on its feet, a chorus of cheers and applause erupting around you as he passed the chequered flag. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your heart swelling with pride and joy as you watched him cross the finish line, victorious and triumphant.

The garage exploded into a frenzy of celebration, the noise and excitement almost overwhelming in its intensity.

“Daddy won! Daddy won!” she squealed, her face alight with pure, unadulterated joy.

With Carmen, you made your way to parc ferme, where Lewis parked, Lola in your arms. Your husband has already gotten out of the car and hugged his team and father. Carmen managed to get to him before the two of you, and he fell in her shoulder. He’s crying. Hearing him on the team radio crying made you fight your own tears. You walked around the barrier with Lola still in your arms, Lando was being interviewed by Jensen, and that gave you the time to reach Lewis.

He let go of his mother, and his eyes fell on you and Lola in your arms. Meeting his eyes, the tears you tried to keep at bay fell freely. The moment you reached him, he enveloped you both in a fierce, tearful embrace. You hid your face in his neck as you clutched his race suit around his back, Lola wrapped her arms around his neck.

“We did it, we did it.” He whispered in your ear, his voice cracking as he held you both close.

”Daddy don’t cry.” Lola said patting his back, trying to comfort him like he always comforts her, she leaned back and kissed his cheek, Lewis pulls back and kisses her cheek, before he turns to you and presses a kiss to your lips.

”I love you so much.” You whisper against his lips, a teary smile on your face.

”I love you too.” Lewis tells you the emotions between you thick and overwhelming.

”I love you, Daddy.” Lola said, and Lewis turned to take her in his arms, kissing all over her face.

”I love you too, sweetheart.”

In that moment, amidst the roar of the crowd and the flash of the cameras, nothing else mattered. You were together, and Lewis has proved to everyone that said he’s washed and that it’s over for him wrong. And he did it all on his daughter’s first race. His greatest accomplishment and his lucky charm.

Maintaglist

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @xoscar03

[cuubism]

Found this old fic concept in my notes, I doubt I'll ever get around to writing it or that I could do it justice if I did, but it still makes me laugh so I wrote it up as a little blurb. Perhaps it will make you laugh too.

Mega Popstar Dream and Hob, his extremely non-famous celebrity crush

So in this universe Dream is an extremely famous musician. He's like Taylor Swift level of famous, if you walk up to any random person on the street they would know who he is. Meanwhile Hob is an actor but really not very well known, he was in a few small projects and is in the core cast of one TV show that's well-regarded but not super popular.

It's Dream's FAVORITE TV SHOW and Hob is his FAVORITE ACTOR that he's ferally OBSESSED WITH. Everyone knows about this too, Dream is really obvious about it. In interviews people will ask him what he likes and he's like "this is my favorite TV show" "have you seen Hob Gadling in that show isn't he incredible", They'll ask him if he has a celebrity crush (as a joke) and he's like "YES HOB GADLING 😍" like it's become a meme in Dream's fandom how much he has a crush on this random actor.

They've never met though, probably Dream was afraid to -- 'never meet your heroes' and all -- and never let his team book any overlapping events. So he's never seen Hob in person, only watched his favorite TV show 65 times in a row and memorized every inch of his face. Like a stalker.

So then a Buzzfeed-esque YouTube channel is running a special edition of their usual challenge show, "People Meet Their Celebrity Crush", except this time it's "CELEBRITIES Meet Their Celebrity Crush." Dream's entire team conspires against him to book him on this. Dream doesn't know what it is until the very moment since the whole point is to surprise people with their crush. Needless to say, Hob was REALLY dubious when the channel reached out like "do you want to come on as Dream's celebrity crush" but what's he gonna do say NO? say NO when Dream is so pretty and cute? So yeah he goes.

Anyway during the moment in the video when they revealed his celebrity crush to him -- aka Hob just looking like a totally normal and random guy -- Dream literally tripped over a chair and fell on the floor and then fainted. Instant meme and it became the thumbnail of the video. When Dream woke up to find Hob crouched by him all concerned asking if he was okay he nearly had a panic attack, he was never more flustered and nervous in his whole life not even performing for crowds of millions.

Hob fell in love instantly. He doesn't even know much about Dream, he hasn't even listened to Dream's music other than what's just playing ubiquitously on the radio all the time but all it took was watching Dream fall over a chair and then look up at him with his huge starry eyes and he was like 'This one's mine forever idc. I gotta protect this nerd he won't survive in the wild.'

Anyway they did start dating after that and Dream never leaves the honeymoon phase for the rest of his whole life, he truly thinks Hob is the most handsome man and best actor in the entire world and will tell anyone so at any opportunity, he goes around saying things like "see if you believe really hard you too can marry your celebrity crush 🥰" with zero irony, he might have skipped the Grammys to go to the premiere of season 3 of Hob's show (Hob didn't ask him to do that) (Dream won the Grammy but had more fun staring at Hob's face for 2 hours than he would have had at the awards show). Meanwhile Hob never talks about Dream in public because Dream already has negative 500% privacy in his life, he's extremely protective of him, and he allegedly punched one of the paparazzi in the face when they tried to take stealth shots at their wedding which was supposed to be a private affair. ALLEGEDLY. No charges were filed.

Dream did post one photo of the wedding on insta for his adoring fandom in which he described Hob as his knight in shining armor and then denied any knowledge of any 'alleged' events when asked about it in the future. Because Hob was so much more private about their relationship than Dream, for a while Dream's fandom had been like HOB DOESN'T DESERVE DREAM but after the (alleged) story about Hob punching someone in the face came out they were all obsessed with him. So that solved that problem.

(Despite Hob's efforts a paparazzi photo did come out of them the morning after the wedding, Hob sitting on the terrace drinking coffee, Dream sitting on his lap wearing Hob's shirt and looking thoroughly ravished. Dream might have framed it.)

Then they lived happily ever after. Dream put Hob in every one of his music videos regardless of whether it made sense for the story. Hob got one of Dream's songs put in his favorite TV show which made Dream's whole entire year. The end :)

[pickingupmymercedes]

Damn him - Lewis Hamilton NSFW

Braids down, finger in and that smirk.

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities

Also, wrap it before you tap it.

wordcount: +2K

a/n: I might have found my passion for teasing 🤭. Also, the smirk besties, that smirk @lh44girl 🫦

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

_______________________________________

The room was still shrouded in darkness, only the faintest sliver of dawn creeping through the heavy curtains. Lewis was dead to the world, his arm lazily draped over her waist.

She’s got to hand it to him—when he’s out, he’s out, completely unaware that she’s about to disappear from his bed like a ghost.

Gently, she lifts his arm, careful not to disturb him. The bed creaked slightly as she slipped out, the cool air immediately prickling her skin. Her dress from last night lies abandoned on the floor, and she silently cursed the choice of attire.

A body-hugging, zipper-up-the-back number isn’t exactly designed for a swift exit. Still, she’s been through these routine enough times to make it work.

She pulled on the dress, her fingers fumbling with the zipper, and catched her reflection in the mirror. Her hair a mess, wild and tangled from sleep and... well, whatever that was that happened the night before.

There’s a faint smudge of makeup under her eyes, and she can’t help but notice the telltale mark on her neck. Great. She’s got a press conference today, and now she’ll have to figure out how to cover that up.

Professionalism, right?

She glanced back at the bed. Lewis is sprawled out, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. He looks so damn peaceful, so utterly unaware of the world.

And for a moment, just a brief flicker, she considered waking him. But what’s the point? This is how it always goes—no strings, no complications.

Besides, there’s a certain satisfaction in slipping out unnoticed, leaving him to his dreams.

She moved to the door, her hand hovering over the knob. There’s a moment’s hesitation, a tiny voice in the back of her mind that wonders if this will ever change—if they’ll ever stop playing these games.

But she brushed it aside. They both know the score. She’s not looking for anything more, and neither is he.

As she stepped into the hallway, she doesn’t look back. She’s done this dance before, and she’ll do it again. The only thing she takes with her is a hair tie around her wrist—probably his. It’s a small, insignificant thing, but she likes having it, a reminder of the night.

She straightened her dress, squared her shoulders, and walked down the corridor to enter the car waiting.

There’s no shame there, no regret. Just the usual morning after, with the usual complications.

But then, complications are part of the job, aren’t they?

By the time Y/n arrived on the paddock it was its usual buzzing ground, the organized chaos of a media day in full swing.

She’s got her game face on, professional and poised, the lingering traces of last night buried beneath a shower and layers of carefully applied concealer.

She was just finished setting up in the media pen, her notes organized, camera crew in place, when her phone vibrated against the table. She glanced down, expecting some last-minute update or an overzealous PR rep trying to change an interview slot. Instead, it’s a message from Lewis.

You have something that’s mine.

Her brow furrowed as she read it, confusion and intrigue bubbling up. What the hell is he talking about?

She quickly scanned her surroundings, half-expecting to see him lurking somewhere nearby with that damn smirk of his. But the paddock is crowded, drivers and team members moving in every direction, and there’s no sign of him.

She brushed it off. There’s work to be done, and whatever game he’s playing can wait.

But it’s easier said than done. The message lingered in the back of her mind, gnawing at her curiosity. What did she take? He can’t be serious.

She barely had time to dwell on everything that had happened since the night before before she has to move again, weaving through the throng of people.

As she rounds a corner, she nearly collides with him. Lewis, in all his casually confident glory, is striding toward her, his eyes locking onto hers with a look that gets her breath stuck in her throat.

He doesn’t slow down, doesn’t stop, but as he passes, he gives her that look. The one that says he’s up to no good, that he’s got something planned.

The smirk on his lips is unmistakable. It’s a promise, a challenge, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at his audacity.

Of course, he’d pull something like this on a day she’s already juggling a million things. She keeps walking, head held high, refusing to let him see how much he’s already under her skin.

Only later, as she’s waiting for an interview to start, she spots him again. This time, he’s not in a rush. He’s lingering, talking to someone from his team, but his attention is split.

She can feel his gaze on her before she even looks up. When she does, he’s already watching her, a little too intently for her liking.

He opens his mouth as if he’s about to say something, then stops, closing it with a thoughtful pout. His hand slips into his pocket, but only his index goes in, tapping the rest rhythmically against his les.

Her breath hitches again. She knows exactly what that finger is capable of, and the memory from last night floods back in with a vengeance.

The slow, deliberate way he’d teased her, drawn out her pleasure until she was a trembling mess beneath him.

She forces herself to look away, to focus on anything else. But the damage is done. He’s got her flustered, her mind racing in directions it shouldn’t be going in the middle of a workday.

She doesn’t miss the satisfied glint in his eye as she turns her attention back to her notes, pretending she’s unaffected. But he knows better. He always does.

Damn him.

Then she’s back at the hotel, settling into her room, the familiar comfort of routine taking over as she edits the final images for the broadcaster. The day has been a whirlwind, and she’s finally finding her rhythm.

She’s halfway through cropping a shot when the phone rings, startling her. The room phone.

She blinks, confused. Who even uses the room phone these days?

“Hello?”

“Your car is downstairs, ma’am,” the receptionist informs her, tone as polished as ever.

“My car?” She’s even more puzzled now. She didn’t call for a car. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s waiting for you.”

Almost simultaneously, her phone pings with a message. She glances down, and her confusion deepens when she sees the name on the screen: Lewis. She opens the message.

Just get in.

Of course. Who else could it be? A sigh escapes her as she gathers her things, tossing her phone into her bag.

Why was she even entertaining him was something her logical side was having serious trouble grasping.

The blacked-out Mercedes waiting outside is a dead giveaway. She slides into the backseat, and there he is—Lewis, sprawled out with that easy confidence he wears like a second skin.

The door barely clicks shut before his hands are on her, pulling her close as the car begins to move. A closed little window the only thing separating them from whoever was on the front seats.

“Lewis, not here” she hisses, feeling his fingers deftly working their way to the button of her jeans.

He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling in his chest. “Don’t worry, love. The big guy driving us won’t say a thing.”

His fingers are relentless, sliding under the fabric, seeking out her heat. Her breath catches as he finds her clit, rubbing it through the thin barrier of her underwear.

The car is moving, taking them somewhere in the Milan area, but she’s too caught up in the sensation to care where they’re headed.

“You love the tease, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice rough with desire.

She bites her lip, trying to hold back the moan that threatens to escape. She can’t let him win that easily, not when he’s already got her halfway undone with just a few well-placed touches.

But when he finally slides a finger inside her, she’s lost, her body arching into him despite herself.

He knows exactly what he’s doing, dragging her toward the edge with a practiced ease that only makes her want him more. The pleasure coils tighter and tighter until she’s gasping, muffling her sounds against his shoulder as she comes, her body trembling from the intensity.

But it’s not enough. Not even close. She’s still aching, still needy, and she knows he’s fully aware of it.

“Lewis,” she breathes, her voice a low plea. “I need more than this.”

His laugh is soft, almost indulgent, as if he expected nothing less. “Patience, babe.”

The car begins to slow, and she glances out the window. She can only assume it’s their next stop in whatever he’s got planned.

He withdraws his hand, leaving her feeling achingly empty. But the promise of more, of what’s to come, is enough to keep her on edge, her pulse quickening as he opens the door and steps out, offering her his hand.

“Come on,” he says, that damn smirk back in place. “We’re not done yet.”

As Y/n steps out of the car, the cool evening air wraps around her, a welcome help to the heat still simmering within her.

She takes Lewis’s hand, not because she needs it, but because it’s part of the unspoken dance they’ve been doing for over a year now.

He leads her up a discreet side entrance, the back of another hotel, and it doesn’t take long for her to recognize it.

The same damn place she’d snuck out of this morning, trying to preserve a shred of her dignity. And here she is, to end the day right back where she started it.

The universe’s funny like that.

They move quickly and quietly through the hallways, Lewis’s hand gripping hers with an easy familiarity. The top floor, naturally—because Lewis doesn’t do anything by halves.

When they finally enter his room, he pauses, turning to face her. There’s something different in his eyes, a seriousness that wasn’t there before. But before she can analyze it, he’s speaking.

“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine,” he says, voice low and smooth.

She arches a brow, trying to play it cool even though her heart is thudding in her chest. “Oh…two?”

He steps closer, and she can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “My hair tie you took with you this morning” he says, nodding toward her wrist where the band sits snugly.

She glances down at it, remembering how he’d used it to pull her hair back last night when his hands were too busy holding her in place.

A small smirk tugs at her lips as she looks back at him.

“And you, babe” he continues, his voice dropping an octave. “You’re mine.”

She huffs a laugh in his face, half-amused, half-challenged. She turns from him and sits on the sofa, crossing her legs as she slowly let’s her head fall to the side and her lips pout “Yours? I don’t remember ever saying yes to anything.”

Lewis smiles, but there’s something in his eyes that’s deadly serious. He closes the distance between them, his hand lifting to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Will you, then? Let whatever this is stay in the past and be my partner?”

Damn him.

She was just here for the sex, the fun, the thrill of sneaking around with one of the most recognizable men on the planet. But he’s gone and done it—turned the tables on her when she least expected it.

And of course, she wants to scream to the top of the roof she does. But she’s not going to make it that easy for him.

A slow smile spreads across her face, and she uses his arms to help herself up, bringing her face level with his. Her other hand finds its way to his jawline, her thumb brushing lightly against the beard there.

She leans in, her lips barely grazing his ear as she whispers, “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that, Romeo.”

And then she pulls back just enough to see the flicker of surprise in his eyes before she leaves a kiss at the corner of his lips.

With a teasing glance, she turns and strides towards the bed by the windows, peeling off her shirt as she goes.

She doesn’t look back until she reaches for the hooks on her bra. Then, with a wicked grin, she glances over her shoulder at him. “Aren’t you gonna help me with that?”

There’s a heartbeat of hesitation, and then she hears him move, the soft sound of his footsteps on the carpet as he closes the distance between them.

Because this is what they do—challenge, tease, and drive each other crazy.

Only this time, the prize is that much bigger.

She can feel it in the way his hands are just a little gentler, his touch lingering a little longer as he reaches for her.

And as much as she wants to hold onto her bravado, there’s a part of her that’s ready to see where this path might lead them.

But first, there’s the matter of making him earn it.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @itsmrshamilton @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora @goldenroutledge @timmychalametsstuff @jpgnsf

@priopp123 @strqirlhrts @hmmmmm-01 @bisexual-babygirl-mj @bebesobrielo

If you’d like to be added to my taglist you can leave a comment or send me a dm/ask.

[chaoticallyfluffy]

I want more of the JL acting like normal celebrities.

Batman and Chappel Roan working together on a competitive cooking show against teams of Kylie Jenner and Danny Devito, Kanye West and Kesha, Taylor Swift and Superman, etc. They are a surprisingly good team who work together great. They end up winning the whole thing and a bunch of wholesome memes start trending about the two of them adopting you after your awful parents kicked you out. Superman and Taylor Swift are surprisingly a TERRIBLE team. They’re disqualified because they never finished cooking their meals as they were too busy arguing. They are memed to be the parents who kicked you out and desperately need a divorce.

Wonder Woman going on a survivor-like reality show about a bunch of celebrities stuck on an island together and all the contestants are whining about things like “My hair is so frizzy and Chad is SO hot, I don’t want him to see me like this omg” While Diana has already chopped down multiple trees, used the wood to make a cabin for everyone, hunted a wild boar which is currently roasting over a campfire she also made with the leftover sticks and leaves, and cracked the coconuts from the tree. The rest of the show is mostly a normal reality show. The other contestants never have to lift a finger and can peacefully gossip and have drama while being well fed, housed, and hydrated. The only real difference is that every few minute the camera switches to Diana wresting a grizzly bear or catching fish with her bare hands.

The masked singer where there’s a person in a colourful parrot costume singing on stage and everyone has to guess who it is. People have guessed many celebrities like Oliver Queen, Bruce Wayne, or even Lex Luther, but they mostly guessed famous singers because the guy is GOOD and there’s no way he doesn’t sing professionally. He sang songs like “Party in the USA”, “Call Me Maybe” and “Never Gonna Give You Up”. People were going crazy trying to figure out who he is. The time finally comes for the reveal. The man slowly takes off his parrot head and... it’s Batman. The crowd goes wild.

The Flash (Barry) and Green Lantern (Hal) make a podcast and spend the entire time going on long rants about their respective interests. Flash talks about forensic science and chemistry for an hour while GL hums in interest or asks questions every once in a while. After that GL rambles about airplanes and engineering for another hour while Flash enthusiastically nods and adds in related stories every so often. Twitter diagnoses them with autism.

Captain Marvel has a TikTok account where he posts himself trying suggestions from his fans. Some of his most popular videos include him juggling a bunch of chainsaws (perfectly, btw), pranking JL members, bedazzling Mr Minds prison jar with fake crystals and speech bubble stickers that make it look like Mr Mind is saying things like “I’m DUMB”, and his most popular by far, citing The Santa Clause rules to Black Adam and convincing him that since he killed his father technically that makes him his new dad (the horror stopped Black Adam in place mid battle, giving Marvel the perfect opportunity to punch him in the face. The punch has been slo-mo’d and memed to oblivion). His Batman mandated PR team has been begging him to stop for months but in response he posts himself TikTok dancing (terribly) in front of a green screen in the background showing an image of the emails while asking for more suggestions.

If anyone has any ideas like this or fics to recommend plz tell me In the comments, I love the Justice League just casually being celebrities.

[toxicanonymity]

Joel/Reader

Free Use - Joel fucking the reader while she’s doing some other task like cooking. They have an agreement that he can fuck her whenever he likes so he just slides into her without preamble 😭

Making dinner (free use)

700 words, Joel x f!Reader. 

A/N: The way I said hell yeah out loud . . . You had me at “without preamble.”  Click the "#free use!Joel☠️" tag for more. Wanna use Joel? Free Use HCs (post-outbreak/TLOU).

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+ Unsafe PIV, consent for free use has been pre-established, pre or non-outbreak.  Master List

You’re making dinner for Joel’s birthday and expect him home any minute.  Tommy will be staying for dinner, too.  You’re wearing Joel’s favorite sundress, the form-fitting one that drives him wild, with no bra.   He’s been working with his hands this week, really building something himself, as opposed to overseeing other workers.  You love seeing Joel when he gets home from a hands-on job.  Sleeves rolled up, shirt blotched with perspiration, forearms smudged with dirt.  You get wet just thinking about it and even wetter when the truck pulls into the driveway.  

When the guys walk in, they’re as dirty as you expect.  Joel gives you a little kiss hello and Tommy greets you politely.  The only shower is upstairs, and Joel says Tommy can use it first.  Meanwhile, Joel goes to put his tools away in the garage. The door closes again, then Joel’s boots are slow and heavy on the linoleum as he crosses the kitchen.  You glance up from the potatoes you’re slicing, and he’s unfastening his belt as he walks.  His lips part as he looks you up and down like a piece of meat.    

You keep chopping the potatoes while Joel washes his hands right next to you, his jeans grazing your dress.  He dries his hands on a lemon-print dish towel, then throws it down on the counter and gets in your space.  The shower turns on upstairs.  Joel grabs your ass with a quiet “Mmmm.” He steps behind you, crowding you against the counter, and you feel him hard against your ass.  He inhales your hair.  “Been thinkin’ ‘bout this all day” he whispers to himself in a near-growl.  You keep chopping, but slow the knife as his hands hook around your thighs.  His large fingers skim up your legs and take your dress with them.  He leaves your dress resting on top of your ass, now clad only in a thong.  He rocks onto his tiptoes as he frees his stiff cock from his pants.  His boot gently kicks the inside of your sandal, prompting you to spread your legs a little more.  Then, he pushes your thong out of the way with his pinky, nestles his tip at your dripping entrance, and begins to push inside. 

He wraps an arm around your waist, giving you a whiff of sawdust mixed with sweat.  His masculine scent never fails to make you weak in the knees.  His arm tightens around you, then his stiff manhood plunges into you.  You gasp softly as his girth parts your core.   You pause your task for only a moment, taking a deep breath as your bodies are joined.  His cock retreats, then sinks even deeper into you, bottoming out with a grunt.  He gropes your breast, and your nipple hardens.  You start chopping the vegetables again.  

Joel buries his cock inside you, jerking himself off with your tight, wet cunt while you cook.  He growls and grunts and gropes where he wants.  His thrusts intensify and the momentum propels you onto your tiptoes.  His fingers dig into your hips and his strong hands hold you down while his thick cock fills you up again and again.  

The shower water turns off upstairs.  Joel quickens his pace, and both his big arms tighten around you as he pistons into you.  This isn’t for your pleasure, not at all, but the intensity of the situation, the strength of his arms around you, the waft of his scent, it all comes together and something rapidly builds within you.  Your core tightens, his breath becomes ragged, and he twitches inside you.  He pulls out all but his massive tip, then slams into you again, filling you to the brim.  His cock pulses powerfully, tipping you over the edge into your own climax, and you let the knife clatter into the sink.  Joel holds you down on his cock as he comes and you clench around him.  

The bathroom door opens upstairs.  Joel slides out of you and puts his cock away as Tommy’s footsteps start down the stairs.  Joel’s cum trickles out of you and he hands you the lemon-print dish towel.  Your face burns as you quickly wipe your inner thighs.   When Tommy walks into the kitchen, you’re all disheveled and your dress is filthy from Joel’s arms.  

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If you like this one, I recommend Speakeasy, Speakeasy Bartender, and Picnic Table.

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all Joel - @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea i feel like I'm leaving someone off who asked lmk if you still need on

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