#low speed separator

[sevikaslatinawife]

Fuck You Back to Sleep

Warnings: dirty talk, strap on, top!sevika, r!receiving, afab!reader, sex guys it’s sex, mating press, possessiveness, light degradation (maybe?)

Something you noticed into your relationship with Sevika was that she was worried to lose you.

She didn’t say it, but she showed it.

Her eyes followed you wherever you moved. When you were out together and got separated because you got distracted or she had to talk to someone, her eyes darted to you. Just to make sure you were still there.

Her fears were valid, of course, and understandable. Here, in Zaun, where anything could happen, anything could hurt you. Anything could take you from her.

Recently, it had started to get worse. Partly due to her new status as Councilor and having to leave you, not only alone, but in a different part of where she was altogether.

However, you didn’t expect her to show her worry like this.

“That’s it, princess,” Sevika grunts as she fucks into you. The strap around her hips, over her clothes as she was just about to leave, glistening with your wetness.

“God,” you moaned, lips parted and swollen from kissing her earlier. “Sev, fuck,” You couldn’t think, couldn’t make your lips form any other word other than her name and profanities.

She had her hands around your calves, your legs pushed up at either side of your face while she drilled into you. Her thighs caged you beneath her, the angle perfect for you to feel her buried to the hilt of the strap on inside of you.

Her strokes were hard and deep. Her noises almost grunts and growls.

Your fingers were at the back of her neck, holding her closer. Your lips nipping and licking her throat. You could feel the shaved part of her head prickle your fingers as you grip her tighter when she finds it in herself to speed up.

“Taking me…” She grunts. “…so fucking good, baby.”

You moan again, head tilted back and eyes almost blurred with pleasure.

“Look at you,” She continues, leaning down to suck the skin of your throat. “Can’t even talk.”

“Vika,” You manage to choke out before another satisfied moan is slipping past your pink lips.

Your attempt to talk only makes her moan in turn, shifting her hold on your calves to hold your ankles with her metal hand. Her right hand drops to your cunt, rubbing circles to your neglected clit.

You arch your back, feeling your entrance greedily tighten around the toy.

“Oh, that’s it, baby,” Sevika grunts as she thrusts into you, still rubbing your clit. “Fuck, let me see you come. I’m not fucking leaving until you come for me.”

“Y-You’re…” You moan, thighs bucking against her thrusts, tasting your orgasm. “…gon’ b-be late,” You pant.

Your hands come up to cup the back of her neck and hold her, stomach coiling as her breathing gets quicker.

“Don’t care, baby,” She leans down to bite your neck. It causes her to stretch you more around the toy, tugging at your trembling hole.

The bite makes you groan in response, your stomach almost quivering as you come.

Your neck tilts back, throat bared and jaw slack as a low, moan escapes your lips. Your thighs tremble around her, your hole pulsing around the toy buried to deep, grinding into that sweet little spot.

“Atta girl, baby,” Sevika hums, slowing down her thrusts as she rides the orgasm out of you, fingers still massaging your clit. You’re still shaking, stomach jolting as you moan.

“Poor baby’s shaking,” She fake coos, pressing your thighs more into the mattress beside your face after moving her hand from your clit. She gives you slow, painfully slow thrusts just to hear the churning of your wetness and come.

“God, wait,” you groan as she gives you one, final, hard thrust.

“I know, princess, I know,” She slowly pulls out of you and lays beside you.

You curl into her chest while your body stops its shaking, burying your nose into her neck, against her pulse to smell her skin.

She kisses the top of your head, tracing odd circles into your back. It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep in her arms and she hates that she has to leave you.

But she’s needed and can’t skip this meeting. So she reluctantly pulls herself from you to tuck you in bed. She takes the toy off, and even has to change her pants because there’s an evident wet patch on her pants due to your cunt.

She gives your face light kisses, careful not to wake you up. She grins to herself smugly as she leaves, knowing you’re damn safe in bed.

Thoughts?

[sanriovin]

steamy shower sex with simon.

the man's just come home from a deployment which took you away from him and him away from you for a whole month. a whole month of both of you having no sexual contact with each other, no calls, no photos, no nothing.

so just imagine the desperation and the raw need between the two of you as he stepped foot back into the place that finally felt like home after so many years of trying to find it, dropping his bag to the wooden floor, not even bothering to take his shoes off as his arms found themselves wrapped tightly around your smaller body, holding you close, so close.

"missed you, lovey." his voice was deep, low, as usual, yet his tone was softened, into one of vulnerability, love, desire, and need. one that he only ever used towards you. only you were deserving of hearing and seeing his true emotions, which were hidden behind a cold mask to others.

you insisted he should take a shower, clean himself up from the messy deployment, ease his stiff, aching joints, slowly ground himself back into the domestic side of his life, even if it wouldn't last forever. not yet, at least, one day, maybe.

however, simon didn't want to be alone yet, no, not after he just came back to his sweetheart. so in the end, the two of you ended up showering together. it started as a normal shower, which slowly escalated into more.

which is how you found yourself, in simon's big, well-trained arms, his scarred fingers pressing tightly into your thighs, back against his muscled chest, as he fucked up into you, his fat cock stretching out your pulsing, clenching walls with a slight new found difficulty from how long he was separated from you. but, that just means he has to get you nice and stretched out, doesn't he?

the running water did little to conceal the groans and low moans from him, and the higher, louder moans and whines from you. your head was leaning against his shoulder, eyes barely open, as his tip repeatedly pressed against your sweetest spots inside you, making you feel dizzy from the unwavering pleasure.

rutting his hips up into you, his grip on you tightened, as he slowly lowered his head, whispering into your ear amidst his noises of pleasure and relief. "feeling good, pretty girl? getting close? i can fucking feel you clenching around me so hard. you wanna cum, yeah?"

he was teasing you with his words, as he soon began to simultaneously bring your wet pussy down onto his dick while fucking up into you, but you knew he was just as wanting as you were in this moment.

your moans grew louder in noise, stirring him on to do the same, his groans and grunts of your name and dirty words growing louder and more rushed. your wetness was dripping down his cock, slipping down his bare, marked skin, leaving a trail which almost immediately got washed off by the running water in the shower.

the glass was steamed up, a white sheet of condensation hiding your two bodies away from the outside. the air was getting hotter and thinner, which, along with your current states, didn't really help much. but, none of that mattered in the moment. what mattered was that you were with simon again, getting one of the best sex experiences in your life.

"g'nna cum, wanna cum, pleasee, 'leasee!" you cried out, turning your head, trying to capture simon's lips in a long-awaited kiss. you could see his eyes moving to look down at your lips, as he lowered his head down, capturing your lips in a wet, messy kiss, one with tongue's meeting, fighting for the dominance, which undoubtedly you had lost quickly.

"you wanna cum, huh?" he muttered out, his pace constant, not speeding or slowing down. "wanna cum so desperately? then do it. be a good girl for me and make a fucking filthy mess."

and that was all it took for you to snap, your body jerking and trembling as the tension in your lower abdomen snapped, mind blank, save for simon's name, as your orgasm hit you so intensely, squirting so hard as your body shook from it. your pussy clenched and twitched so much that that in itself was enough to bring poor simon to the breaking point.

holding you down tightly on him, which was definite to leave many loving, reminiscent marks of what had happened, he let out a lusty, heavy moan, burying his face in your shoulder, as hot spurts of his cum shot into you, intertwining with yours, creating a sticky mess between the two of you as it began to dribble out, getting flushed away through the shower water.

it took you some time to gather yourselves; to catch your breaths, come back to reality, to ground yourselves from the orgasms you had just experienced. simon slowly let you down, turning the shower off, looking down at you, as you slumped against him, barely managing to stand on quivering legs.

"well, that shower was pointless, wasn't it?"

but he wouldn't trade these moments for anything in the world.

(author's note: wrote this on a whim, not too proud of it 🤞)

[kissmefriendly]

Kindness being shown to me from someone outside a select group of like. 2 people is the most horrific thing because it’s built in to me to refuse but also to be polite but also I crave human connection on a meaningful level but I also had it drilled into me I never deserved it [inhale]

[starkeyisthelastname]

cooking for dilf! rafe while he watches the game and drinks his scotch 😵🥴🥴🥴🥴 and afterwards he rewards his wife with some nice hard jacuzzi fucking

the sex with this man would always be so fucking hot 😻

It was a Friday evening, and both the kids were over at their separate friend’s houses. With a new development project in the works, Rafe had a stressful work week. After his shower, he’d be sprawled out on the plush sectional with a glass of scotch in his ringed hand while his cerulean eyes focused on the game playing on the large flat screen. He looked sexy of course in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants that hung on low on his muscled hips, dick print visible as the man was huge. You couldn’t help but want to spoil him with a good meal, making sure his plate was full as you piled on his favorites.

As soon as you set his dinner down in front of him it didn’t take long for him to devour it all. He was one happy man afterward, especially once he had a full stomach and a buzz from the glasses of scotch. He definitely had you in his lap by the time the game was coming to an end, his lips were on your neck and his large hands were squeezing your hips in a possessive manner.

Rafe’s suggestion of relaxing in the jacuzzi was really him showing you how much he appreciated you by giving you the best dick a wife could ask for. The hot water splashed around the two of you as he had you bent over the side, your ass smacking against his muscled hips. “F-fuck Rafe!” You cried, french tipped nails digging into the ledge as you braced yourself from the heavy dick slamming in and out of your soaked hole.

“Take that dick, you goddamn deserve it baby.” He breathed heavily, his hand coming down to give you a firm smack on your ass. There was nothing else on his mind other than giving it to you deep and hearing those gorgeous moans. “Daddy makin’ that pussy feel good? Just how you fucking like. Huh?” He spoke behind you, his raspy voice always making your cunt flutter.

You couldn’t help but glance back, the view of your sexy husband always wanting to make you lose control. His blue eyes met yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he began speeding up his thrusts. Your mouth fell open and head dropped as he laid into you a brutal pace, the sound of splashing water and smacking filling the open air. It was the hand coming down to tilt your head back, ocean irises darker as he looked down at you. “Now I know you aren’t trying to hide from me now that you are gettin’ ready to cum. Let me see you baby, you know I can’t get enough.” His voice low, thumb dipping between your parted lips as he pounded you out.

[chleem]

Mistletoe

One shot: bf drew starkey x gf yn

Summary: In which your secret relationship with drew gets exposed due to a quick kiss beneath the mistletoe.

Genre: fluff (making out wdrew)

⋆.˚ please dont copy or translate my work!

♡⸝⸝ happy xmas! | halloween | mr & mrs starkey

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You thought no one would say yes to a Home Alone marathon, but here you were—with seven friends huddled on your couch the week before Christmas.

You were prepared for rejection from them; watching the entire trilogy alone - well, not alone. With Drew, of course. 

Your boyfriend, of three months. Secret boyfriend. 

No one knew about you and Drew. And you both planned to keep it that way. The moment anyone found out, the teasing would be relentless. The questions would come. And honestly? You weren’t ready for that invasion of privacy.

It was easier this way. Just the two of you. Even if Drew was laughing along with everyone else, sitting across the room, his gaze on you would linger longer in a way only the two of you understood. 

What did Taylor Swift once say? Romance is not dead, if you keep it just yours. 

Maybe, the best thing she’s ever written. 

You stand up from your seat, carrying your empty cup. You needed a refill of hot chocolate, the only thing (other than Drew) that’s keeping your sanity alive in this cold weather. 

When you walk past where Drew’s sitting, the heavy weight of his stares makes your heartbeat uncontrollably speed up. 

Entering your kitchen, you immediately reheat the milk using the coffee machine, then pouring a bag of the instant chocolate powder into your cup. 

It feels like hours has passed waiting for the coffee machine to stop. 

Luckily, you weren’t alone while waiting. 

Before you can even react, arms snake around your waist, caging you between his body and the kitchen counter. His chest presses lightly against your back, and the warmth of his body sends a shiver down your spine.

Your heart already knows who it is: Drew. 

“Hey you,” he murmurs, voice low and teasing. 

He kisses your temple, and you sneak a look past his shoulder. The kitchen had a wall separating itself from the living room; but you could never be sure. 

“No one saw me,” he says, reading your thoughts. You look into his mischievous blue eyes with your skeptical ones, trying to suppress your smile. 

“Well, you can’t just sneak up on me like that,” you say, leaning into his touch. Without thinking, you let your nose drift near his neck; because why not? 

And as expected, he smells nice. 

“Mhm,” he’s never going to stop sneaking up on you. Drew’s eyes avert themselves down to your lips, before licking his own. “When are they going to leave?” 

“You know what a movie marathon means, right?”

Your words causes Drew to frustratedly groan, and throw his head back dramatically. You laugh at his reaction, finding it cute. “And we’re only on the second one…” 

“Patience, baby, okay?” You coo at him, a smile appearing on your face. 

You reach for the hot milk, pouring it carefully into your cup. As you finish, Drew’s hand moves up, effortlessly reaching the cupboard above you. Without a word, he pulls down the jar of marshmallows and hands it to you, his fingers brushing against yours. 

“We should just send them all home,” he whispers in your ear, seductively and annoyingly so, knowing that no one’s in here but the both of you. 

You send him a glare, shaking your head at him. “You mean I should send them all home. No.” 

You try to step away, cup of hot chocolate in hand, but before you can make it to the door, Drew pulls you back toward him again. His grip tightens around your waist, his hands feeling like they've found a permanent spot there.

You stumble slightly, not expecting the sudden pull, and end up having your chest tightly pressed against his. The heat from the mug in your hands is nothing compared to the warmth radiating from him.

One hand goes and takes the hot drink away from you, putting it back on the counter. “C’mon, I’m not done with you yet,” he smirks, undeniably teasing you. 

“Seriously?” you mutter, eyes narrowing at him, but the way your lips twitch betrays you. You like how he impatient he is; how he acts as if he can’t spend seconds away from you. 

You watch as Drew straightens up, his eyes gleaming with excitement, hand still firmly around your waist. The other slips into his pocket, and you raise an eyebrow, already bracing yourself for whatever this latest move will be.

“What now—” you start to ask, but your words die in your throat as Drew pulls something small out of his pocket.

The smallest sprig of mistletoe possible.

Your breath catches as you look up at him, eyes wide in disbelief. You expected anything but that.

He holds the mistletoe above the both of you, now expecting you to kiss him.

Then…“With you~ shawty with you,” the familiar tone of Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe leaves Drew’s mouth, but completely out of tune. 

You snort, unable to hold it in, the goofy sound escaping your mouth before you can even stop it. Romantic moment? No, maybe the complete opposite. 

Drew’s grin widens, and before you can even get a word out, he continues to sing the last chorus of the song. 

Your soft giggles encourages him to sing even more dramatically, adding in ad-libs. And when the song comes to an end, he attempts a high-note on the last lines, “kiss me underneath the mistletoe.” 

“You dork,” laughing, you hit his shoulder lightly in attempt to push him away.

“C’mon, kiss me,” he leans down closer to you, “especially after that performance.” 

You look up at him, eyes still gleaming with laughter, but something shifts. The playfulness in his gaze deepens, the smile slipping into something a little softer, a little more serious. He’s still holding the mistletoe above your heads, but it no longer feels like a joke.

And because it was such a good performance, you wrap your arms around his neck, pull him even closer, and kiss him. 

You pour your emotions into it; kissing him soft and slow. Drew immediately melts into it, kissing you back with the same tenderness. 

He drops his hands to wrap around your body, the rough leaves of the mistletoe tickling the skin your top doesn’t cover. You giggle into the kiss, leaving the invitation for Drew to thrust his tongue deeper into you. 

His hand slips lower and cups your ass, giving it a tight squeeze. 

Moaning into his mouth, you know this kiss is escalating. Escalating, rather fast. 

The pulse that speeds up in your lower stomach can support your thoughts. 

You pull away from him, breathless and slightly starstruck. 

Drew is definitely starstruck, lips plumped, cheeks red, and his blue eyes no longer able to hold a single thought behind them. 

He leans down to continue, and when you pull away, a pout is evident on his lips. 

“Earth to Joseph,” you giggle breathlessly, cupping his face. 

He smiles at the mention of his full name, lazy look in his eyes. “They didn’t notice I was gone,” he murmurs, his voice laced with desperation to kiss you again. 

“They will soon,” you gently tell him, before planting a quick kiss to his lips again. 

“Fuck,” he groans, biting down on his lower lip. His gaze drops down between the both of you, and you follow his trail of line. 

Sure enough, the crotch area of his jeans is slowly emerging, a line evident.

“Forgot how easily aroused you are,” you tease, patting his shoulder as you walk past him.

Your gaze flickers to the doorway, and when your mind confirms it, you freeze.

“Shit.”

Your eyes lock with Madelyn’s. She’s standing there, mouth opened in a gasp, eyes wide with shock. She doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s caught you in the act. 

Her eyes flicker between you and Drew, who immediately turns his back to face her (obvious reasons why). Her opened mouth turns into a full-wide grin, before raising a finger to point between you and Drew. “Oh! Oh-“

Madelyn’s loud remarks echoes through your apartment, making herself heard to the rest of the group in the living room. You embarrassingly bury your face into your hands, hearing the footsteps of your friend group entering your kitchen. 

Great. So much for keeping this relationship a secret. 

“What happened?” You hear JD ask, worry in his tone. 

“They were making out! And- and Drew’s hard right now!” She practically yells it, leading to a chorus of gasps and laughs. You’re pretty sure Rudy laughs the hardest, his laugh full of amusement and disbelief. 

You groan in embarrassment, your face burning as you sink to the floor, hands instinctively covering your face like a shield. "Fuck," you mutter under your breath.

“You owe me fifty bucks!” You hear Chase happily chirp to someone. 

Everyone takes advantage of you and Drew’s discomfort, just like how you expected them to do once they found out.  

You then feel hands cupping your face, forcing you to look up. 

You meet the familiar blue, Drew now kneeling beside you with an embarrassed smile that matches yours. He rests his forehead against yours, his chest vibrating with laughter, “guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

You giggle at his capability to joke along, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You’re so annoying.”

“Merry Christmas to you too,” Drew says, brushing off your comment with a playful shrug.

You shake your head, but the warmth in your chest is undeniable. With a quick move, you grab the collar of his sweater, pulling him close. You tilt your head just enough to meet his lips in a kiss.

It’s soft. Brief. Sweet. Just enough to drown out the noise, to remind you of the quiet between you two amidst the madness.

When you finally pull away, your breath mingling, you murmur softly, “Merry Christmas,” your voice a gentle whisper that only he can hear.

Drew’s eyes soften as he looks down at you, his smile warm and genuine. “Merry Christmas,” he repeats, as if this moment—this simple kiss—is exactly what he needed too.

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

word count: 1.6k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: merry christmas!! hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it! i love writing these little holiday specials, bc it gives me the opportunity to write something fun & weird! last one i wrote was hallow's eve, and i just wanna say thxs for liking it. that is, im currently writing another christmas oneshot, so look forward to it!

elevator | other | mr & mrs starkey | hallow's eve

[neuvistar]

Biker! Dan heng, Sunday and aventurine?

Sfw and NSFW

Like I'm brain dead for them

DREAM RIDE. biker! honkai star rail men part one

— featuring ┊aventurine, sunday, (il) dan heng x fem!reader (all separate)

— warnings / content warnings ┊all consensual! sfw + nsfw, feminine terms used (she, girl, etc), cunniligus (aventurine #1 pussy eater strikes again), orgasm denial (sunday), jus a tad bit of subby dan heng, semi-public s3x? (sunday), blowjob (dan heng), use of vibrators (sunday), riding (dan heng) use of nicknames, multiple orgasms, bath s3x (aventurine), sunday is a MENACE here, reader implied 2 be a lil smaller than them, v4ginal fingering (aventurine), more tba! | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

— a/n ┊NOT PROOFREAD ! might correct tmr if i’m not sleepy! <3 anyways hi guys writers block stopped biting my ass anyways guys i’m SOOO attracted 2 aventurine it’s acc insane he needs to be jailed from how majestic he is.. erm! whoever keeps sending asks abt biker! hsr men god bless u and ur entire family | reblogs r appreciated

⊹ 𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐄

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would take you out for late night rides! he’s a total drama queen, let’s get that out of the way. he loves you, yes, but he’d get so pouty whenever you turn him down for your daily night rides with him, he sulks and sulks.. clinging onto your figure until you finally say yes! jokes aside, aventurine really does enjoy your company, he really does value quality time as he would go as far to even take you out to see the stars, feel the breeze and have some fresh air, or just have a midnight snack!

“come on, baby.. 2am is nothing! just come and ride with me for a bit, i promise i’ll have you back til 3?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who always finds himself buying you gifts before visiting you and such! sometimes he’d just be riding around on the road and all of the sudden his hands are full of bags and gifts just for you before he gets to your place! he’s a huge gift giver, spoiling you to the brim.

“would [name] like this one.. no no, maybe this one. hm.. maybe both.”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who can be insecure at times, sometimes he thinks about whether he’s truly right for you or not. like, usually he wouldn’t give in to these thoughts but there are times where he’s just riding around at night n he suddenly stops n goes.. “what if [name] is bored of me?” even though he might not show it, poor thing needs A LOT and i mean A LOT of reassurance from you, please tell him he’s good enough for you!

“my darling.. are you sure i’m right for you? i mean, you know. i’ve just been.. thinking. you’re not gonna leave, are you.. hm? ‘gonna stay with me, right?”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE absolutely loves having sex while you both take bubble baths, i mean.. it’s essential to have good hygiene, isn’t it? aventurine pumped his fingers within your pussy, circling his thumb over your clit as he licked his lips, nuzzling close against your neck. “mmh.. you like that?” his voice, husky and low as his fingers reached the deepest parts of your cunt, a sharp gasp caught in your throat as he held you firmly against him. watching you struggle to stifle your moans made him feel a combination of pride and surprise. aventurine gripped your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "damn, sweetheart.. are my fingers that good?" he murmured, his voice low and steady.

aventurine growled softly, pleasure coursing through him at your reaction. his fingers deeply thrusted in and out of you, feeling your tight walls spasm around his digits. with a lick of his lips, he added another finger within your drenched pussy.. the sound of water splashing against his fingers, his speed rising more and more.. stretching you delicately. "missed this," he groaned, adding more speed to his rhythm. "missed the way your body responds to me, my darling girl..” his eyes locked onto yours, seeing the desire mirrored back at him. he wanted to make you cum, that was his goal for the night.. to hear you scream his name again. the roughness of his fingers grew, the sounds of water splashing against his hand was enough to embarrass you, aeons.. he was going fast alright. “c’mon, sweetheart.. it’s been ages since i made you squirt. mmh.. these fingers are good enough to make you squirt, right?”

⊹ BIKER!AVENTURINE who would eat you out almost all the time, whether it’s on his motorcycle seat while he holds your body, or maybe his table filled with tools, or just a plain old bed. aventurine is willing to eat you out literally anywhere, his tongue piercing made it even better. aventurine savoured every second of this, allowing his senses to be consumed by your intoxicating flavour. your body trembled above him, carefully laid on the seat of his motorcycle as he chuckled against your pussy.. your hands buried in his hair as he delved deeper into your depths. the blonde’s tongue danced expertly, exploring every hidden crevice while his fingers played with your swollen bud. “you taste divine," he murmured against your sex, causing you to arch your back sharply. "just like the finest wine, only better." his words hung heavy in the air between them, fuelling your rising passion.

aventurine attacked your cunt hungrily, devouring your folds with complete vigor. aeons, he was obsessed with your pussy, and your taste. the way your wetness spilled out onto his tongue, mixing with the warm atmosphere surrounding the both of you drove him crazy. his large hands held you firmly against the seat of his motorcycle, hands roamed freely over your body, tweaking one of your nipples roughly while diving deeper inside your drenched pussy. your boyfriend groaned into your folds, feeling your walls tremble around him. “good darling.. such a good girl taking my tongue so well.” “.. ‘turine.. you’re gonna make me fall on here.. j—just eat me out on the desk..” you murmured, wincing when you felt a slap on your pussy. “whoops, sorry angel,” ugh.. this tease. “mm.. no-can-do, sweetheart. i like seeing you like this. just imagine, my cum leaking out of your pussy and right onto my bike.” he licked a single stripe on your cunt, chuckling when he noticed your legs quivering. “oh how fascinating would that be.”

⊹ 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐀𝐘

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who has a habit of grabbing onto your waist, or just snaking his arm around it! i mean, he does this for many reasons.. one, to show you’re taken, and two, mm.. he just feels like it! sunday would do it on random occasions, whether he’s talking with his biker friends, at the cashier, anywhere! he loves grabbing your waist and he makes that very clear, maybe if he’s in the mood.. he’d slide his hand beneath your shirt as well wink wink

sunday glanced at your form, a small smile forming on his face when he saw you examining your surroundings. he snaked an arm around your waist, pulling your body firmly against his.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who’s jealousy is intense. sunday would get angry at you, give you the silent treatment, or just bluntly ignore you if you were found talking and laughing with another guy other than him. he refuses to believe that you can be happy with other guys other than him. he would glare at other people he catches staring at what’s his, he was.. possessive. and whenever you catch sight of it, he would try and manipulate you to thinking he’s doing it for your own good! because all those men that were staring at you were bad! (wow, he’s a bastard) saying this, he’s a huge manipulator.. it can be a handful dating him.

“trust me, my love. can’t you see how those men were staring at you?” his voice was soft, dangerously soft. the malicious glint in his eyes didn’t hide anything. “they’re after you, angel. they’re after what’s mine. i’m only trying to protect you. why are you so doubtful of me, hm? do you not love me anymore? are you perhaps.. bored of me?”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who loves being in control, this can be taken in a sexual or non sexual sense <3 sunday is assertive, and he knows what’s right for you. (most of the time!) he can be a bit controlling at times, but he means no harm! he just wants to keep you safe, promise! sometimes sunday would give you that look whenever you would try n defy him, he means business.. trust me. because of this, he can be cold and stubborn towards you at times without even knowing, geez.. he really needs to work on that.

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY loves being in control, as i’ve mentioned.. but especially in bed. besides that, he’s so damn mean.. he doesn’t let you cum unless he tells you to, kissing your tears away with his lips. “ah ah ah, darling.. what did i say about cumming?” his eyes devoured your small frame, taking in every curve and angle of your body. sunday couldn't help but feel a surge of dominance and control over you, chuckling lowly. you was his, every fiber of your being was his, and he'd take care of you properly. his thrusts were hard to take in, his size and speed.. aeons. the way his cock slides in so easily had him biting his lip, he’s so mean and strict whenever you both make love, spanking you a few times whenever he sees you dozing off!

his eyes never left yours, even when he would immediately pull out when you were on the verge of orgasming, earning a sweet whine from your lips. “please.. please let me cum! sunday, baby please.. i can’t hold it anymore!” oh, how if only you knew how much he loves it when you beg. “oh baby.. i love it when you beg like that.” sunday groaned deeply from pleasure, landing another smack to your ass.. grinning at the sight of you swirling beneath him, “it only makes me wanna do this more.. it makes me wanna keep you here, stop you from cumming all over my cock. do you want that?” “n—no please.. please let me cum, sunday.. i need it—“ “keep begging, my angel. maybe i’ll let you cum if you keep begging and whining for me. come now, speak up.”

⊹ BIKER!SUNDAY who absolutely loves using vibrators on you whenever you both go out together, it’s amusing to him! (stupid bastard) he would increase it’s speed at random times to catch you off guard.. for his own amusement. listen, you really love your boyfriend but sometimes you just wanna slap that stupid smile off his face. you were casually picking out some candy in the candy aisle, a soft smile on your face before you felt that same old sensation within you.. causing a gasp to leave your pretty lips. “mm.. what are you looking at here, my love?” sunday murmured softly, chuckling at your vulnerable state. “sunday.. lower the speed please..” you begged, aeons! you were stupid to even think he’d decrease it’s speed!

your boyfriend smirked, the vibrator’s speed only grew more by the second as you could feel the wetness of your pussy seep through your panties, filling you with humiliation and embarrassment as you could barely walk, holding your hand over your mouth. “fuck.. sunday please..” you knew begging wasn’t gonna get you anywhere.. you knew you would have to have that stupid thing inside you for hours on end, overstimulating your pussy and entire body while your boyfriend watched and held you with pure amusement. to your bewilderment, there were times where sunday would go as far to fingering you by a nearby alleyway, his hands drenched in your juices. this man.. you wanted to be mad at him but you couldn’t bring yourself to be. sunday’s pretty fingers dug deep into your drenched pussy, knuckles deep while he had that same stupid sadistic smile on his face. “i should put that thing in you more.. look how wet your pussy is. it’s practically drooling for me, angel.”

⊹ 𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐀𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆

sfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who is more of a private relationship typa guy, he prefers to keep his relationships private! despite this, he still shows his love for you in many other ways, it’s easy to say that some people are even surprised he was dating you, because of how reserved he is when it came to personal matters <3 he values his and yours’ privacy, you can trust me on that!

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who struggles putting on his helmet because of his horns (lol), you find it really cute! whenever he leaves your house, sometimes he takes 10 minutes trying to figure out how to wear a helmet because of his horns. he found this so annoying to the point he probably had a custom helmet made for him and his horns!

you nearly let out a giggle when you gazed at him, struggling to wear his helmet over his head. dan heng’s tail swished against his leg, glancing up at you with a slight frown. “[name], it’s not funny.”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would teach you how to ride a motorcycle so you and him can ride around together, i mean.. you can’t blame him! he doesn’t show it much, but he really does hope to spend more time with you, and he thinks this is effective and efficient! dan heng would guide you through it slowly, keeping his hands on your waist while he helped your practice with the brakes and all you needed to know! to be honest, this was really just an excuse to touch you, but can you blame him? his large hands would brush against your hips, helping you adjust and sit properly, it’s a good thing these things take awhile to learn!

“mhm, i got you.” his thumb rubbed circles on your hips, humming. “you’re a fast learner, [name]. you never fail to surprise me.”

nsfw.

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who just loves having your pretty mouth wrapped around his cock after an exhausting day of biking all day and night. soft gasps and whimpers left his lips as he showed a completely different side of him that night, full of pure desperation and need. “am i.. doing this right?” your voice was muffled against his dick, sending vibrations to his nerves as his hand was carefully placed atop of your head, body aching for release. “yes.. keep sucking me off like that..” with a grunt, he closed his eyes briefly while savouring the warmth of your tongue tracing circles around the sensitive slit.

"more please, baby..“ dan heng begged, arching his back slightly as your warm, wet tongue caressed the head of his cock, teasing him mercilessly before sliding down its veiny shaft. the sensation was foreign yet familiar, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. unable to resist any longer, he reached down, gripping your hair tightly as he thrusts his hips upward, pushing deeper into your waiting mouth.his breathing became heavier, the sound of each labored gasp echoing in the otherwise silent room, punctuated by the sloppy sounds of your mouth working him over. your tongue swirls around the base of his cock, teasing the sensitive area underneath his balls before returning to suck and stroke him feverishly. “you’re so good to me.. s.. so good to me..”

⊹ BIKER!DANHENG who would let you ride him just like how he lets you ride his motorcycles! he just wants to put your pleasure first, really. dan heng’s mind raced as he watched you ride him. he was going to lose it, he knew it very well. the sight of you bouncing on his cock, your pussy coating his cock with pure white juices, the sound of your gasps, and the feeling of your breasts against his chest created a whirlwind of emotions. he watched you struggle to stifle your moans while gripping your waist lightly, offering support and reassurance. "you’re doing great, love. fuck.. take your time and do what feels good," he encouraged, his voice low and steady.

he hoped his presence provided comfort, guiding his precious girlfriend to enjoy the sensations without feeling pressure to perform. their bodies moved in harmony together, lust fuelled by the thrill of victory as dan heng’s breaths grew ragged. his face flushed at the sight of your breasts bouncing, biting his lip at how overwhelming this was.. the sound of skin slapping against each other was all that came through, their moans punctuated the intensity of their shared moment. your hands grabbed everywhere.. his biceps, his chest, and oh.. even his horns. he was absolutely losing it. “sh—shit.. use my cock, use my cock for your own pleasure, beloved.. you’re doing so well..”

@ NEUVISTAR. do not plagiarize, claim my work as your own, translate or share my posts on any platform outside of tumblr.

[joeyfromthetrack]

Half a Step - KA¹²

Kimi Antonelli x Wolff!reader

Summary - Kimi and the daughter of Toto Wolff find themselves enamoured with each other from across the garage.

Contains - pure fluff, awkward teenage love

The sun hung low over the paddock, casting everything in golden light. Race day was winding down, and the buzz of engines had given way to the softer sounds of crew laughter and debriefs. The clamour of the crowd was gone, replaced by something more intimate, the quiet hum of a team catching its breath.

Y/n Wolff leaned against the railing outside the Mercedes hospitality suite, sipping on a melting strawberry smoothie and watching the bustle below. She’d grown up around these tracks, the daughter of Team Principal Toto Wolff, but it never got old, the energy, the thrill of it all.

And lately, it had gotten even harder to ignore one particular part of the scenery.

Kimi Antonelli

Mercedes’ newest young driver. Barely 18, full of raw talent and the sweetest smile the Wolff girl has ever seen. Kimi had joined the Mercedes academy years ago but his presence in the garage became more prominent in 2024 as he prepared to step up to formula one.

Y/n had to pretend her heart didn't stutter every single time he entered the garage, she had to pretend that him simply walking past and giving her a friendly wave didn't make her cheeks flush and head spin. And now with the boy being in the garage full time, she was finding it harder and harder not to fall hopelessly in love with the boy.

And she had no idea that, across the garage, Kimi Antonelli was doing exactly the same thing.

Kimi sat perched on one of the low pit wall barriers, boots dangling, helmet resting beside him. His hands twisted the strap of his gloves absentmindedly as he tried — and failed — to focus on the technical debrief happening a few metres away.

His eyes kept drifting.

To her.

Y/n was a vision in the fading light, her hair catching the last strands of sunshine, her laugh — even when faint and tucked into a private conversation with one of the mechanics — sending an ache straight through his chest.

He knew he shouldn't stare. She was Toto’s daughter, practically paddock royalty, and Kimi was just the kid. The rookie trying to prove himself worthy of the same seat greats had sat in.

But it was hopeless.

Every time she was near, it was like the whole garage shifted, the world blurring at the edges until there was only her.

She was sunshine. And he was a boy who wanted to be worthy of standing in it.

From her spot by the railing, Y/n felt it — the weight of his gaze.

It had been happening more and more lately. Little glances from across the garage. Half-smiles traded over laptops and telemetry sheets. A kind of silent conversation neither of them was brave enough to voice.

Her father wasn't strict, but she knew he watched everything. And if Toto had noticed the soft way Kimi’s eyes lingered on her, or the way her laugh brightened whenever Kimi was around, he hadn’t said anything yet.

At least, not out loud.

Because Toto had noticed.

He'd caught the way Kimi looked at his daughter once — when she wasn’t watching — a gaze so open, so careful, it had stopped him mid-sentence. And he'd seen it in Y/n, too — the way her face lit up the moment Kimi entered a room, the nervous twirling of her fingers when Kimi was nearby.

Toto had seen it in both of them, separately, quietly.

And while a part of him was protective — would always be protective — another part of him, the part that understood how rare it was to find something real in the high-speed, high-stakes world they lived in, was quietly, secretly rooting for them.

The garage lights buzzed on overhead, casting a cooler glow over everything now that the sun was sinking fast.

Kimi slid off the barrier and tugged at his race suit sleeves. He should go. The engineers would be waiting for him. There was data to review, meetings to attend, future races to prepare for.

But instead, he found himself walking toward the hospitality suite.

Toward her.

Y/n spotted him immediately, her stomach flipping in that stupid way she couldn’t control.

He slowed when he reached her side, a little breathless — maybe from the walk, maybe from the nerves that always prickled under his skin around her.

"Hey," he said, voice softer than the background chatter of the packing crew.

"Hey," she answered, setting her smoothie down and turning fully toward him.

For a moment, neither spoke. They just stood there, a few feet apart, the world busy around them but somehow silent between them.

"You were amazing today," she said finally, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Kimi flushed — not from the compliment itself, but from the way she said it. Like she really meant it. Like he wasn’t just some rookie. Like he was hers to be proud of.

"Thanks," he mumbled, a little shy. "I... uh... I saw you watching."

Y/n laughed under her breath, biting her lip. "Busted."

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, gloves still twisting in his hands. "I always... I mean, I always look for you. After."

Her heart stuttered.

"Oh" she whispered, not sure what to say as a pink blush spreads across her cheeks.

The air between them stretched and tightened, sweet and terrifying all at once.

Kimi took a half-step closer, so close now she could see the faint freckles dusted across his nose, the nervous flutter of his lashes.

"I don't really know what I'm doing," he admitted, voice barely above the breeze. "But I... I like being around you. I always have."

Y/n smiled, slow and wide and aching.

"I like being around you, too."

A long, full moment passed — the kind of moment that feels like the edge of something big, the kind you only get once if you’re lucky.

From a distance, tucked into the doorway of the hospitality suite, Toto watched them.

He saw the look on Kimi’s face — the one he’d caught before — and the way Y/n smiled back at him, unguarded and full of something too bright to be anything but real.

He shook his head with a quiet smile, already resigned.

Maybe he couldn’t protect her from everything. Maybe he didn’t even need to.

Maybe sometimes, you just had to let good things happen.

Kimi swallowed hard. "Maybe we could, um... hang out sometime? Outside the garage?"

Y/n’s heart swelled, almost painfully.

"I’d like that," she said. "A lot."

He smiled, a real one, bright and a little crooked, and more beautiful than any trophy.

Their awkward smiling and blushing moment was interrupted as Kimi was approached by Bono for a debrief. They stood staring at each other unsure of what to do but as Bono called for Kimi again he gave her a wave and a smile, backing away still looking at her until he hit a wall.

She giggled softly at his clumsiness and his blush only grew, he had to reluctantly turned around following Bono into one of the meeting rooms, leaving Y/n planted in her spot.

Her trance was broken by the sound of someone's voice clearing, that someone being her father as he passed her by on his way to the meeting room following after Kimi and Bono. He looked at her with a knowing smirk and a wink before he disappeared into the meeting room.

Y/n's eyes widened and her cheeks grew impossibly redder.

Oh shit.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆────────────────────────

Word count: 1.3k

[usafphantom2]

Aircraft engine types ✈️

✈️Turbo-Shaft: Used in helicopters and some fixed-wing aircraft, it features a compressor, combustion chamber, and turbine. The turbine drives a power shaft via a free (power) turbine, which powers the rotor or propeller through a gearbox, rather than producing direct thrust. Exhaust gases are expelled separately.

✈️Turbo-Prop: Similar to a turbo-shaft, it powers a propeller via a gearbox. Air is compressed, mixed with fuel, and burned in the combustion chamber. The turbine extracts energy to drive the propeller, with some exhaust thrust. It’s efficient for low-speed, short-range flights.

✈️Turbo-Fan: Common in commercial jets, it has a large fan at the front, high- and low-pressure compressors, a combustion chamber, and turbines. The fan accelerates air around the core (bypass air) for thrust, while the core produces additional thrust via exhaust. It’s efficient for high-speed, long-range flights.

✈️Turbo-Jet: An older design, it compresses air, burns fuel in the combustion chamber, and expels exhaust through a nozzle for thrust. It lacks a bypass fan, making it less efficient but capable of high speeds. Used in early jet fighters and some supersonic aircraft.

✈️Ram-Jet: Operates at high speeds (Mach > 1), using forward motion to compress air in the inlet. Fuel is injected and burned in the combustion chamber, and the exhaust is expelled through a nozzle for thrust. It has no moving parts but only works at high speeds.

✈️Scramjet: A supersonic combustion ramjet, designed for hypersonic speeds (Mach > 5). Air enters at supersonic speeds, is compressed, mixed with fuel, and burned in a combustion chamber, with exhaust expelled for thrust. It’s used in experimental hypersonic vehicles.

✈️Rocket: Uses stored propellants (fuel and oxidizer) in a pressure vessel. Propellants are burned in a combustion chamber, and the high-pressure exhaust is expelled through a nozzle for thrust. It operates in space since it doesn’t rely on atmospheric oxygen.

✈️Gas Turbine: Similar to a turbo-shaft, it’s used for power generation or auxiliary power units. Air is compressed, burned with fuel, and the exhaust drives a power turbine, which can power generators or other systems. Bleed valves and discharge ports manage airflow and pressure.

Each engine type is optimized for specific applications, balancing efficiency, speed, and operational environment.

@Airmainengineer via X

[reasonsforhope]

"As 3D-printing methods continue to evolve, it’s not uncommon to see this method employed for various engineering projects, especially in the construction of affordable housing, structures, and schools.

In Ireland, a first-of-its-kind social housing project has been built from the ground up, using 3D printing as a time and money-saving solution.

In fact, it’s Europe’s first 3D-printed social housing project, fully compliant with international standards. In Grange Close, Dundalk, the three-unit terraced build is now a milestone achievement in eastern Ireland. It was created by Harcourt Technologies Ltd (HTL.tech) and assembled using COBOD’s BOD2 3D construction printer.

The unit is 3,550 square feet and is divided into three separate homes, each measuring 1,184 square feet.

The use of this technology allowed for a 35% faster construction process, which took 132 days from start to finish. During that time, the 3D-printed superstructure itself was completed in just 12 printing days. 

Conventional construction methods usually require more than 200 days, according to COBOD, meaning this method could be transformative in quickly scaling affordable housing options.

“Ireland’s housing crisis, driven by a decade of under-construction and rising demand, has reached critical levels, leading to widespread protests and influencing national elections,” HTL.tech shared in a press release.

“The rapid construction made possible by 3D printing offers a promising solution. The homes in Dundalk demonstrate how this technology can address housing shortages by dramatically reducing construction time and costs.”

In the 132 days it took to go from initial site preparation to handing over keys to the client, builders say approximately half of the time savings came directly from 3D printing. 

Additionally, during the project, COBOD upgraded the concrete hose of its printer, which increased its output by 40% and significantly increased the printing speed. With this upgrade, the company estimates that printing times for similar structures would be reduced to nine days instead of 12.

“We continue to improve our technology,” Henrik Lund-Nielsen, general manager and founder of COBOD International, said in a statement, “and although a hose update can be seen as a small step, the numbers from HTL.tech proves that it is not.”

Now, the client — a local housing council — will finish furnishing the homes and will rent them to social housing tenants at an affordable price.

It’s a success that will surely have ripple effects.

“As the first 3D-printed social housing project in Europe, the Grange Close development sets a precedent for future housing solutions,” a press release from HTL.tech explained. “With countries like Sweden and Germany also experimenting with 3D-printed homes, this technology is poised to become a standard approach for addressing housing shortages.”

The statement also added that governments across Europe may increasingly adopt 3D printing to “deliver faster, more cost-effective housing solutions for low-income residents.” 

“This project not only showcases the potential for rapid, sustainable construction but also serves as a blueprint for other nations facing similar challenges,” the statement concluded. “As 3D printing technology evolves, its role in shaping the future of housing construction looks increasingly promising.”"

-via GoodGoodGood, January 23, 2025

‍

[sweet-as-an-angel]

so! you mentioned in the 'p0rn preferences' post that Gaz is not the one who jerks off the most in the 141, and I humbly ask you, who would that be?

I don't mean this as a request, just a little discussion, cause I feel like Soap would just be going at it at any chance possible, like a bunny. he probably doesn't care much if someone hears it, but that's just me thinking too much into it.

Who Jerks off the Most in the 141 + König

Warnings: 18+, Heavy Mentions of Masturbation, Male Masturbation, Implied Reader in Individual Headcanons, Accidental and Implied Voyeurism, Edging, Brief Mention of Injury, Men Who Moan <3, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except 'You'.

A/N: As per Anon's question (which I just had to turn into a post of its own) I present to you the list of the 141 members (and König) who jerk off from the most to least <3

Soap

I have to agree with you here, Anon - Johnny is most definitely the king of self love when it comes to the 141.

He doesn't much care where he is or who he's with; when he has to satisfy his needs, he'll do so.

Though, he'll spare whoever's with him the sight of watching him throwing his head back, trying to stifle his moans behind gritted teeth whilst the wet sound of his hand slipping up and down the length of his shaft fill the room.

Unless they want to.

For one reason or another, he's nigh-insatiable when it comes to his libido, and the fact that his stamina affords him the luxury of beating himself off until his cum is practically translucent doesn't help.

The slightest thing can set him off.

Someone brushing past him ? Hard.

Someone stroking his ego a little too enthusiastically ? Bricked up.

He sees something that's shaped to be a little too curvy or phallic ? Stiff as a pole.

He remembers something mildly suggestive you did three years ago in that restaurant ? He's going to the Horny Realm.

Yes, his teammates have complained about his incessant moaning-come-grunting-come-whimpering through all hours of the night, his voice contorting through a spectrum of desperation and Johnny always ending up spent and overstimulated by the time the sun comes up.

And then he's ready to do it all again the second night touches the horizon line, giving his teammates a knowing smile when he walks into the room sporting nothing else save for a pair of boxers and a monster that looks to be trying to tear itself free from them.

Gaz

Dude's young. Of course he's throttling that rooster on a nigh-daily basis.

The only reason he's not at it as much as Soap is because he likes to believe he still has a few threads of his self-restraint intact.

He doesn't.

Especially when it comes to you (regardless of whether you're dating yet or not).

But he doesn't need to know that.

Honestly, the only thing that separates him from Johnny's unmatched libido is the fact that it takes a little more than the slightest provocation to get Gaz going.

Albeit, that line is a thin one.

If he so much as accidentally sees something explicit for upwards of three seconds, he's hard.

The only advantage of his need for satisfaction is the speed with which he can achieve it.

He and Johnny actually timed each other once to see who could get off the fastest.

Gaz won. Though, only by a slim margin.

Needless to say, that made for a rather interesting conversation with the Captain when he walked in on two of his best soldiers sat panting on the edge of their cots, an almost-translucent spray spattered across their stomachs, eyes half-lidded and hazy.

Ghost

The third-in-line for the Throttle Throne is none other than our beloved Ghost.

Unlike Johnny and Gaz, Ghost is more likely to leave himself alone at the first sign of trouble, toughing it out until he can will his mind to less lustful pastimes.

He won't make his jacking off known to anyone, either, often doing it in the shower where the water beats down so harshly that no sound can be heard for the water's fall.

That, and he's a master at keeping his voice low, no matter the circumstances.

More often than not, Simon makes quick work of jerking off purely because it’s a means to an end. However, if it’s you he’s thinking of, he’s much more likely to take his time — to immerse himself in the fantasy of your body around his, taking him so well in one capacity or another. Fucking yourself dumb on his cock.

During these times, he’s thorough — much more likely to edge himself, to throw his head back and growl between gritted teeth, to savour the sensation coiling in his stomach, his balls growing tight.

Otherwise, he’ll stroke one out as quickly as he can, getting back to business as usual.

And to look at him, on the surface, you'd never know that he just spent the last three minutes rubbing one out in the bathroom (yes, he is also a contender for first place in the 'Who Can Jack Off The Quickest Competition', but he'll never allow Johnny or Gaz the luxury of witnessing his unprecedented skill; that's for your eyes only).

Until he corners you, breathing down your neck, scolding you for tempting him - a man whose restraint lies only in his ability to hold off from reducing you to an exponential reflection of his prior state, breathless and covered in fluids.

König

Have you seen the size of that thing ? Man should be in the olympics for being able to throw that weight around.

Similarly to Ghost, König only gets himself off when it's absolutely necessary.

Only if he doesn't have you lying around to help him, of course.

Though, he lets himself have a bit of fun with it. Especially if it's been a tough day.

He's vocal, too. Though he tries not to be.

He just can't help it. Days' - maybe even weeks' - worth of unspent adrenaline and semen is hardly any way for a soldier like König to go about his life. So, he expels it in the privacy of quite literally any isolated space he can find.

König is not an adventurous spirit by any means when it comes to self pleasure, but when needs must, he's willing to shoulder the weight of the prospect that someone on his team could walk in at any second and catch him spraying his stomach or the wall white with, let's face it, thick ropes of cum.

Hong-Jin's actually caught him doing that before now.

That's actually how the two became friends: Horangi heard König grunting in the store cupboard and, knowing how stubborn his Colonel was with letting others know when he was injured, sought him out. Wanted to offer his help.

Catching Colonel König in the act of throwing his head back whilst growling the name '(Y/N)' into the darkest corner of the room was, suffice it to say, not what Horangi had been expecting.

Price

You just know he's cool with it. And by 'cool', I mean incredibly intentional, controlled, and not ravenous in the ways our other favourite military princesses are.

Sure, Price has gotten hard on the job a few times.

Who hasn't ?

But thanks to his level head, unwavering devotion to his work, and absolute refusal to acknowledge that he did, in fact, get a little bit of a chub during a shoot-out, he's managed to gain control over every facet of his body.

Until he comes home to you, of course.

Until he's able to loom over you like an omen and run his hands down your sides, stopping at your hips and pressing kisses that become more open-mouthed the further down the side of your neck he dips.

Pressing his hips into yours. Something demands your attention.

There have been very few occasions where a cold shower wasn't a quick enough fix for him.

When the days of having you milk him are too far out of sight, he's had to suffice with his own hands before now. Had to imagine - remember - what yours felt like in his place, your lips curled up as he gripped the chair arms, breathless as he moaned into the warm tones of your shared apartment.

But don't worry ! He'll be sure to catch you up on everything you've missed while he's been away once he returns.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad Tumblr Backup Account

[right4you]

Only one

Summary: you meet Joel every Friday night. Same room, same routine, same agreement. Date no one else.

Word count 5k. Warnings: smut.

Friday night, your favorite day of the week.

A wide grin is splayed across your face as you rush home from work. Parking however when you make it. Wasting no time when you step inside heading straight to the shower to get ready. Luckily you’re home alone and can pamper yourself without your parents asking where you’re going. Excitement bubbles in your lower belly picking out the sluttiest lingerie for Joel Miller.

When ready you head to the hotel going over the speed limit rushing to arrive earlier than what the map calculated. The valet boys notice your car and rush over to attend. You slip out of the vehicle tugging on your coat belt keeping it secured. “Good evening” they greet taking your keys and ushering you inside.

The staff inside wish you a good night welcoming you for your once-a-week stay. You only smile at them, speed walking to the elevator.

They never give you any weird looks as to why you meet an older man every Friday night. Joel Miller curated a story that you two are a couple who meet at this place when your work schedules overlap. They also know not to question a man with money.

A man who owns his own construction company. Also, he is your dad’s boss.

The throb between your legs only intensifies when you press the 13th button. Now only a minute away from seeing him. A fit of giggles slips out from excitement looking at the numbers increase.

A tiny ding indicates you have reached your level. You slip out once the doors separate. Anticipation runs through your veins as you stride down the hall never dropping your smile. His cologne lingers in the air and you inhale deeply savoring his scent. You take out the key card as you reach the door.

It’s always the same room #1111.

He waits by the entrance waiting for the sound of the door to unlock. Not a second later his hands are on your body as you enter. “Hi” he smiles leaning in for a kiss.

“Hi” you reply sweetly wrapping your arms behind his head, giving him a light squeeze.

“I missed you”

“Same” you giggle as he presses you into the wall undoing the tight belt of your coat.

“Cold outside huh” he says as his hands unbutton the brown plastic buttons of the khaki coat folding the slides away from your body. He pulls away giving you a long look. His dark brown eyes travel from head to toe. A low whistle blows through his lips hands coming up to touch the white lace lingerie set. “You always wear the cutest sets baby” he whispered leaning in to capture your lips pulling the coat off your body falling at your feet.

“Take me to bed cowboy” You hike your right leg over his hip and he responds by picking up both legs and wrapping them around his torso. Your heels clack from behind him as they meet at the ankle, one over the other.

“Yes ma’am” he obeys walking you over to the huge California king bed that had rose petals thrown over it like confetti, celebrating your affair.

You giggle as he throws you down gently. You land flat on your back palming the sheets and tugging at it slightly. You rise your knees separating them ever so slightly. “Come here” you seductively whisper. He quickly crawls over taking a moment to admire you. He slots between your thighs. You watch him with hooded eyes studying the way his eyes appear full of lust and a shade darker than usual.

“You like?” Whispering swaying your body underneath him as he scans the lace perfectly fitting your body.

“Y’know, I don’t care what you wear. I want what’s underneath this delicate lace” he said in a low tone tearing the thin fabric over your cunt. A sharp exhale releases from your lips as his fingers meet your folds gliding a finger up and down, feeling your wetness. “Always so wet for me, so perfect” he murmurs capturing your lips, muffling your whiny moans.

Your hands come up from your sides cupping his jaw, pulling him closer to you. Parting your lips allowing him more access as his tongue invades your mouth tasting you. You meet his tongue with yours pushing back into each other mouths.

He briefly pulled back “You’re my only one. You know that right,” he said lowly kissing down your jaw. His tongue licks your sensitive skin just behind your ear. You squirm planting your hands on his back feeling his back muscles ripple against his shirt.

Fuck why didn’t he take it off?

“Yes,” you respond leaning your head back towards the cushions allowing him more access to your neck. The feeling of his lips disappears suddenly. You lick your lips confused as to why he stopped.

“Repeat it” his tone is stern. Thick-calloused hand comes up to the back of your head lightly tugging your hair at the base of your scalp. “Look at me when you say it” he demands.

Meeting dark brown irises, eyelashes fluttering, and with a devious smile you repeat “I’m yours, the only one.”

“That’s right” he leans back down to kiss your swollen lips. His left hand trails down your skin awaking goosebumps in its way. He starts at your shoulder, down your chest, stomach, and hips. He stops at your clit rubbing small circles. He elicits more moans pressing harder building up the pleasurable tension.

“Mmm,” you groan, gripping onto his forearm feeling the bicep muscle flex as he continues to touch you. “Oh Joel” you moan into his mouth.

“Keep making those sweet sounds baby” he encourages you. His fingers continue to make smooth tight circles on your clit. Your body twitches each time he hits the right spot and you coo when he finds a steady rhythm. Your body reacts arching your back into him and moving your hips rutting against his palm.

“Fuck” you gasp feeling yourself close. “Fuck” he swirls harder. His lips connect with yours kissing you passionately, only making it better. “I need you, please” you beg to him in a rasp.

“Wait baby” he drags his finger up and down your cunt and you gasp. Your body withers when he plunges two thick fingers into your cunt.

“Mm,” you desperately whine pouting your lower lip. Raising your hips to meet his thrusts chasing the friction of Joel’s digits pumping hard in and out of you.

“I need you to come first, can you do that for me” he whispers not stopping.

You nod eagerly already feeling the first wave of please overcome you. Your brows knit together as you focus chasing the high. A loud moan slips past your lips not caring who can hear you. “Don’t stop” you yelp wrapping your left hand around his wrist that still held your hair.

Your right-hand rubs up and down his left arm. He flexes combining his thrusts with the tapping of his thumb on your clit. You finally feel your orgasm approach. An intense wave of pleasure hits you “‘m so close!” Then another, then another and finally you come the feeling of hot intense pleasure explodes from within leaking out of you into his hand.

“Yes just like that” he breathes watching you undo yourself. “Did so good” he praised gliding his right hand out of your cunt. Down the skin of your thigh. Then landing flat against the bed, beside your head. His other hand lets go of the base of your head and gently cups your cheek for a tender kiss on the lips.

He lays down beside you pulling your body close to his. “How was your day?” He whispers into your hair inhaling the sweet smell of your shampoo.

“Good, busy but good” you respond breathlessly.

“Yours?” You ask laying completely still but he continues to lightly touch your skin with his pointer finger tracing small circles on your stomach.

“Alright, better now” he chuckles lowly and you respond with a smile closing your eyes.

After a few minutes, your breathing finally regulates into a normal rhythm not feeling fucked out anymore. The throb pulses back, heating your lower abdomen with desire. You want more, you need more and he reads it in your face. He bites his lower lip already undoing his belt. “I still need you” you whine helping him out of his shirt. Leaning onto your side you prompt yourself up by your elbow. Undoing the white button up exposing his smooth tan skin.

“Take 'em off” he breathes leaning himself completely down on his back allowing you to undress him. You rise to sit on your knees tugging the belt out of its loops and dropping it on the floor. A smack is heard as it lands and you both chuckle. He lazily lifts his hands to undo the button and you tug at the legs slipping him out of his trousers.

The sight of his thick hairy lips causes you to salivate, craving him in your mouth. “Another time, need to be in you” he responds reading your thoughts. You pull him out of his boxers and you quickly move yourself over his body. Positioning yourself. His hand reaches down his body to widen the rip of your lace over your cunt. He holds the base of his cock as he swipes the tip over your folds a few times.

You both groan at the feeling of him pushing himself in. You hold onto his shoulders bracing yourself. He sighs feeling you stretch around his girth. “You good baby?” He rasps and all you can do is nod biting your lower lip.

After a few seconds, you begin to rise then sink back down his length. “Fuck” you both groan doing it again and again. He grins watching you move slowly on him. His hands hold onto your hips tightly already feeling bruises form as he helps you move up and down his cock. It’s soft and slow at first just savoring the feeling.

A breathy moan escapes you feeling his tip hit your g-spot. Your movements pick up a pace squeezing around his length earning deep moans from him. You smile arching your back head tossed back. “You look so good baby, riding my cock”

You look down at him finding him staring wickedly up at you with an intense look in his eyes. “Fuck” you whisper closing your eyes sinking down his length tugging his soft curls. Your chest is right over his mouth and he takes the opportunity to nip at your skin catching your sensitive bud in his mouth and lightly sucking on your nipple. His hands are everywhere touching and teasing you.

You keep grinding on him not stopping even if his licking and touching you becomes too much. Your breathing becomes heavy and sweat beads on your skin. Hair sticking to your forehead and shoulders. “You always take me so well baby, the only one who knows how to ride me. Fuck. Don’t stop” he groans deeply within his chest feeling the vibration on your body.

“Mmm, Only one” you slur.

Your eyebrows swaddle feeling your peak approach and the twitching of his cock in you tells you he’s close too. With this, you rise back up holding onto his chest and balancing yourself as you ride him to the end. “You’re close baby?” He asks and you quickly nod whining when he fucks into you harder. Your bodies slap against each other and you cry holding onto him.

“Fuck right there” he feels your walls clamp around him digging into his flesh as your orgasm begins washing over your body and he is close. His hips falter losing control as his orgasm overcomes him. You both undo at the same time lazily riding out each other's high before stopping. Bodies still then you collapse next to him exhaling a deep breath.

“That was…” he starts breathlessly.

“…so good” you finish his sentence laying completely still.

♡

Wednesday evening, you sat at the dining table as your mother served dinner going over weekend plans with your dad. Friday is only two days away and you can’t wait for it to come. You press your thighs together at the thought with a small smile on your face as you bring the pasta to your mouth.

Ears perk up at the sound of Joel’s name from your father's lips “he invited us to dinner this Saturday” he motions to your mom and himself and you look away uninterested. “We completed that huge order I was fussing about. Said I really showed my recruitment skills. I hired 5 guys, they seem promising” he smiles to himself proudly.

“That’s good! Are we still going out of town next month?” She asks him and he shakes his head no. A smile of relief comes to her face but you mentally frown not having one week to yourself.

Once a month they leave to check in on one of Dad’s work sites. He’s a lead manager in Joel’s company so he gets his own site up in Dallas. They just got back from their trip last night. “Finished some accounting for this month’s payroll and Gustavo assured me he has it covered so I don’t see why I should go up there.”

Your mom takes a seat next to you patting your shoulder with a warm smile. You look over at her nodding and smiling back. “Did you have a good weekend?” She asks you.

“Yeah stayed in Friday” you lied looking down at the plate of food “but I went out on Saturday with Kels. Spent the night and then did some errands Sunday. Her mom says hi by the way.” Informing your parents of your ‘weekend’. Kelsey is your best friend who always covers you on Friday nights. When they’re here you use her as if y’all are going out and spending the night but when they’re gone you ‘stay in’ enjoying some quiet time.

Luckily they believe you, they know better not to question their sweet daughter. You grew up an only child and never misbehaved. Had a bit of a phase in middle school but grew out of it in high school. Because your dad threatened to pull you out and work full-time at the construction company.

Fuck that, Joel rarely shows up doing most of his work from home. He only goes if it’s a huge paying project, has a meeting or something gets messed up. Which is rare with his team. Your dad talks highly of him. He’s an exceptional businessman having the best staff to keep his business stable.

“Do you think he’s going to invite that, man what’s her name” your mom speaks up. Immediately you look up from your food creasing your brows together as she tries to remember her name. She presses a fist to her mouth closing her eyes to help her remember.

Who the fuck is she talking about?

After a few long seconds, you desperately wait for her to remember. “oh Claudia!” She snaps her fingers. “The women he’s been seeing?”

Claudia? The woman he’s been seeing! You internally yell. Irritation builds within your chest, eyes slightly twitching. How could he lie to you? You feel a scowl express on your face and you clear your throat forcing yourself to act normal.

“He didn’t say he is” your dad replies and they both nod enjoying their dinner, oblivious to your trembling anger.

We agreed not to date. Who the fuck does he think is breaking our number one rule. I should have known. A man like him isn’t only keeping one girl.

He’s probably actually taking her seriously. You in-vision her. A pretty woman, likely close to his age, takes her out on dates, buys her nice things, fucking her every day but not Friday. He’s probably promised her a future together and god you wish you were her.

How long has he been seeing her?

Fuck, has she been there all this time?

“I’m full” You abruptly get up ignoring the confused glances from your parents.

Heading back to your room locking the door behind you. Picking up your phone from the desk, looking down at his notifications. With a roll of your eyes, you walk into the closet shutting the door.

You sit on the carpeted floor legs crisscrossed under you. Biting down on your lip contemplating if you actually want to pick a fight on a Wednesday night.

Screw it.

Curiosity burns all over you. You have to find out who is Claudia and if it’s serious. You have the right to know. What a fool you would look if he strung you along. Believing all of his empty promises. One being; the two of ending up together, no longer hiding y’all’s affair. With a sigh, you press on the contact bringing it up to your ear. The coldness of your phone sends a chill down your hot body. You impatiently listen to the dialing tone as it cuts off “Hey” he chirps.

“Who the fuck is Claudia.” you seethe immediately diving into it.

“What?”

“You fucking heard me, who is she?” You spat.

“No one, what are you talking about?”

“Joel, I know you’re seeing someone. Don’t lie to me”

“I’m not lying to you.” His voice doesn’t falter, he’s good at keeping his cool.

“Yes, you are!” You argue.

“I’m not, can we not do this over the phone? I’m trying to finish some work” You can hear the exhaustion in his voice but you don’t care.

“Work” you laugh even though nothing is funny. “Are you with her right now?”

“I’m with no one.”

“Joel. I’m coming over”

“No, you’re not. Listen, baby, I have a lot of work to do and I have to finish today. Can this wait till Friday?” He’s stern but you don’t care.

“No” you end the call. Rising off the floor flicking on the light looking for your shoes. You slip on some Birkenstocks and a light sweater. Texting Kels to cover for you. She hearts your message confirming.

As you walk past your parents you exclaim “Girlfriend emergency! I’m going to kels love you!” You storm out of the house and you hear them reply back with an okay before slamming the door shut.

♡

You shortly arrive at his place slotting in the key he gave you a few months ago. You can’t help but wonder if she has a key. God, what will do if she is here? Wondering around his house busying herself while he works away in his office. Not caring enough. You burst into a quiet dark home.

His truck is out front so he’s obviously here.

The large living room is shut off no sign of anyone lounging around. You step in further passing the kitchen expecting him to be waiting for you near the entrance but it’s dead silent.

You continue down the vast hallway leading to his office. You pass his room the doors open but the lights are out. There’s a yellow glowing strip underneath the office door and you twist it open. His head peaks above the monitors slipping his glasses off his face.

He is here.

A breath of relief blows past your lips.

“Jesus Christ” he mutters standing up from his chair with hands at his hips “I told you to wait till Friday”

“And I told you no. Who is Claudia?” Your arms cross over your chest arching a brow at him. “Are you seeing someone else, Joel?” You question.

“No, who told you I was?” His brows crease together walking away from his desk standing in front of it.

“It was brought up at dinner. You’re going out with my parents on Saturday and my mom asked my dad if you’re bringing a date.”

He scoffs shaking his head “I’m not bringing anyone.”

“Then why did my mom say her name!”

“Claudia” you cringe at the sound of her name coming from his lips “She is just a friend,” he said calmly only making you angrier.

“Bullshit” you seethe through your teeth “You’re lying to me!”

“Baby I’m not lying to you.” He shook his head walking towards you but you step back. “You can’t seriously believe I’m dating other women. I know the rules I wouldn’t break em” his head leans towards his shoulder pressing his lips together watching you pace.

“Then why did my mom bring her up? She isn’t the type to make up things” you remark.

“I’m not calling your parents liars by any means. I can explain. Quit pacing.” You halt. Arms crossing over your chest. “Claudia was introduced to us on a work trip. She’s a partner for a business, they have this big project coming up and we’re trying to seal a deal. She and I are in communication. Since we’re always talking to each other. I may have mentioned that we’re growing close. In no way am I dating her” he explains. “They probably just got the wrong idea” he suggests.

“Please, I know how men like you are.” You roll your eyes at his lame excuse turning away from him and walking over to the large window.

He scoffed “Men like me?” He spat causing you to turn back and look at him.

“Yes! You’re all similar. I’ve heard this shit before.”

“Meaning?” His eyes slightly squint, shoulders squaring appearing larger.

“I’m not new to this Joel.” You completely turn your body his way fixing your posture mirroring his. “Why are you even creating a personal relationship with her? Shouldn’t it be professional?”

“It is!”

“You literally just said you are growing close.” You state “I don’t create close bonds with any of my potential clients so why should you? Gosh you said you were different” You turn away from him again facing the window again. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes feeling overwhelmed with anger.

“Baby please get that; I would never do that to you” his voice is soft and he sounds closer. Your head slightly turns to the side confirming he’s is only a step away from you.

“you told me I was the only one! That you’d never let me go.” You twist to face him again. His eyebrows raise with concern seeing your glossy eyes “You said you would wait for me! How could you turn your back on me? Obviously, it’s more if my parents think you’re dating her!” You push on his chest but he barely moves.

“But it’s not. I still stand on waiting for you” he replies. “It’s only you, nobody else. Please understand that” he keeps his tone calm stepping forward into your space his hands coming up to hold you. “If I could bring you as my date I would.”

Your eyes meet his. His gaze softens slightly nodding his head mentally repeating ‘you’re okay. Believe me, hoping you get the message. Eyes dart between his, the sadden expression on yours melts away. He tugs on you meeting his hard chest. Feeling a bit defeated, you melt into him. His warmth soothes you. One of his hands rubs small circles on your back helping you relax. You think about his calm demeanor. Not once did he raise his voice, lose his temper, or make you feel crazy. But he must think that you are. I mean can you blame him? Storming into his house swearing up and down he’s seeing another woman behind your back. Acting like you lost your head.

“Do you understand that?” He asks again.

You lazily nod your head with a sigh. Hugging him back resting your head on his chest.

The two stood together for a moment in silence. Kiss him, you think. Chewing the inside of your cheek, contemplating the idea, or just stay in his arms for a while.

His phone goes off and you both look over at his desk. Her name pops up on the screen almost like it is taunting you. You scoff pushing him off walking out of the office stomping towards the front door. He’s hot on your heels trying to grab you but you’re quick to dodge him.

“Don’t go” he pleads from behind you trying to grasp your elbow but you yank it away.

“No, fuck this I’m done. Why is she even calling you at this hour?” You exclaim picking up a pace.

“I was waiting on a response” he comments not helping the situation.

“And she can’t email you.” You scorn over your shoulder. You look ahead of you his door just an inch away. Pulling it open but before you can step out onto the porch, his arm wraps around your middle carrying you back inside and slamming it shut.

“Joel!” You yelp fiercely trying to wiggle out of his gasp but he doesn’t loosen his grip not even when you scratch his skin. “Let me go!”

“You are not leaving. Not when I taught you things that your momma will never know” he carries you down the hall, pressing his cheek to your head lips close to your ear and you shudder. He notices “Who will make you cum the way I do?” He tries to husk his voice trying to divert your attention but it makes you realize something.

“I should have known better. I was just some young thing for you to fuck. You used me. Please just let me go” you desperately cry wanting to be anywhere but here.

“No, no that’s not true” he brings you back into his office kicking the door to close behind him “Are you going to stop acting like a brat and listen to me?” His voice booms from behind you feeling the vibration from his chest onto your back. He sets you down on the black leather couch in his office. “Look at me” he demands and you peel your eyes away from the floor looking up at him. “This isn’t about your age. I am not going behind your back seeing other women. This is strictly work-related. I understand why it may bother you but I would never do that to you. You’re my everything and I can’t wait for the day we can be together not just on Fridays. Just for your benefit, I will have Tommy handle it. Deal?” He declares in one single breath looking hotter than ever.

Good to know his promise still stands.

But you still roll your eyes. Just to annoy him a little bit.

“None of that. Words” he demands.

“Sure whatever,” you say looking away again hiding your face with your hair as a smile forms on your lips you look back at the floor. Feeling better knowing he will cut communication with her and make Tommy, his brother, also co-owner of the company, handle it.

His phone buzzes again and you groan something within you knows it’s her. “she’s just a friend?” you look back up at him and he tiredly nods his head yes closing his eyes. Silently praying you don’t cause another fight.

And you’re not.

The idea rolls around in your head. Quickly deciding to go for it. You flip your hair back leaning into the cushions smirking up at him. He quirks a brow intrigued by what you’re going to do next. “Answer it while you fuck me” You couldn’t deny it anymore all this fighting turned you on.

His face switches from annoyed to desire “Naughty girl” he said lowly smiling down at you happy with your response. Not a second later you both fumble out of your clothes. You lay on the couch and you giggle together as his bare body slides in between your bare legs.

“Don’t forget your phone!” You squeal pointing back at his desk. He smacks his lips together getting up to grab it. It’s not ringing anymore but she sure does call again.

You lick your lips watching him position himself “Was your dick hard this whole time?” You ask breathlessly looking down at his hard leaking member. He nods his head slipping inside you quickly pumping in and out not giving you time to adjust. “Christ you’re wet” he mumbles bringing his phone to you. “You answer it,” he says handing you the phone.

“Ah!” You inhale when he hits the soft spongy spot in your cunt. Back arching off the couch as he continues to hit the sweet spot. “Fuck right there” you exhale. Trying to focus on answering the call. Your finger glides across the bottom of the screen placing it at the edge of the couch.

“Joel” you moan his name thrusting your hips trying to match his fast pace. The sounds of y’alls skin slapping against one another mixing with the loud moans, fucking each other rough and fast. You hum with approval, music to your ears. This sex feels angry and frustrating but oh so good. You lift the top half of your body from the couch, propping the back of your elbows on the cushions and balancing your weight on them.

She’s still on the phone.

You smile proudly closing your eyes when his thumb comes in contact with your clit rubbing fast messy circles “fuck” you moan feeling the coil in your lower belly twist tighter wanting to break free. “Just like that, faster” you cry body twitching under him.

He groans biting his lower lip and pumping in you faster and harder. “‘m so fucking close” he rasps picking up your thigh, resting it higher against his side.

Your head tosses back onto the couch “Me too” you slur licking your lips. Your hands grasp the couch's edges for leverage as his thrusts become messy and you can feel his dick twitch inside you. Your walls tighten around him signaling that you’re close. Hot flashes of pleasure snap all over your lower body collapsing on your back. “Oh my god!” You gasp feeling your orgasm wash over you and you moan cumming all over his cock. He pumps your juices back into your cunt still pulsing around him.

“Keep doing that” he whispers. The walls of your pussy continue to contract around his thick cock “Oh!” he yells “I can’t-“ he quickly pulls out his hot cum spilling all over your lower belly and you watch in awe as it paints your sweaty skin mixing together.

He’s breathing hard hand coming up to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Joel leans back on the opposite of the couch trying to catch his breath “She hung up” he murmurs in between breaths followed by a small chuckle.

“I hope she got the clue.” You respond tiredly with a smirk.

[pitlanepeach]

Radio Silence | Chapter Seven

Lando Norris x Amelia Brown (OFC)

Series Masterlist

Summary — Order is everything. Her habits aren't quirks, they're survival techniques. And only three people in the world have permission to touch her: Mom, Dad, Fernando.

Then Lando Norris happens.

One moment. One line crossed. No going back.

Warnings — Autistic!OFC, strong language, more angst (IM SORRY IT'LL GET BETTER SOON I PROMISE).

Notes — Welcome to Oracle Red Bull Racing, Amelia Brown.

Want to be added to the taglist? Let me know! - Peach x

2020

The office was quiet in the way only offices designed for genius could be; not sterile, but reverent. Drafting boards and CAD monitors hummed quietly in the background, interrupted only by the soft tick of a mechanical clock that someone had insisted on keeping analogue.

Amelia sat stiffly in the chair opposite Adrian Newey.

He was perched on a stool beside a massive whiteboard, sleeves rolled up, fingers stained faintly with pen ink, as though he’d been sketching ideas directly into the fabric of his shirt. His presence was oddly... nerve-racking. 

Neither of them spoke for the first few minutes.

Amelia rolled her golf ball between her hands in her lap, trying not to bounce her knee. Adrian made a few marks on a fresh sheet of paper, muttering under his breath. It sounded like a stream of formulaic gibberish to anyone else. To her, it was almost a lullaby.

He paused. Looked at her. “Do you have any thoughts?”

She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear them.”

Adrian hummed, and then there was a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I will always listen. I will also always tell you when you are wrong.”

She swallowed, then nodded. Then she gestured to his paper pad. “You’re already sketching the '21 nosecone?”

“Yes. The frontal vortex targets under the new regs are… absolutely maddening. They’ll make cooling a nightmare.” He muttered. 

She shifted forward, almost involuntarily. “Mm. Not if you separate the low-pressure bleed early and feed it into the underside of the side-pod. It could trick the wake into thinking it’s interacting with a full-body airflow.”

He went very still. 

“Interesting,” he said slowly, standing and crossing to the nearest drafting board. He didn’t ask her to explain it again. He just started drawing. She stood too, walking around the conference table in order to stand at his side. Without looking at her, he handed her a pen. 

She made a face at it. “I like red.” 

He didn’t say anything. Just took the black pen back and found her a red one. 

By the time lunchtime rolled around, they had filled three boards, made seven sketches, and the early formation of a concept that wouldn’t just survive under the 2021 regs; it would thrive.

They hadn’t spoken much, not conversationally. Just fragments.

“This doesn’t breathe well at speed.”

“What if we taper the upper control arm here instead?”

“Why does this remind me of the '98 car?”

But somehow, it worked.

By mid-afternoon, Adrian glanced up at her from the schematic they were both hunched over.

“You think in shapes,” he said.

She blinked at him. “You think in sound.”

He smiled, and it was full of promise. “We will make a wonderful pair, Miss Brown.”

She let out a quiet breath. “Oh. Good. I was afraid that you would regret spending three million pounds on me.”

He stared at her for a long moment before laughing shortly. “No regret, Miss Brown. Not a single one.” 

For the first time in weeks, she didn’t feel anxious. Or lonely. Or burning with the guilt of abandoning McLaren, the team that was synonymous with her family name. 

She tucked the golf ball back into her pocket. “I’ll draw up a more formal aero flow map tonight.”

“Don’t bother,” he said, flipping to a new page. “We’ll build it first. Then reverse-engineer the explanation.”

She grinned, sharp and fast and excited. “We can do that?”

“We can do anything we want.” He told her. 

— 

Christian pushed open the door to the technical office with the kind of hesitant curiosity reserved for someone who was pretty sure they’d told everyone to go home six hours ago.

The light was still on.

At first, he thought maybe the cleaners had left it by mistake. But as he stepped inside, the faint scratch of pencil on paper, the rustle of blueprints, and the hum of two very intense brains in quiet dialogue stopped him dead in his tracks.

Adrian was barefoot now, barefoot, perched on a wheeled chair with one leg pulled up under him like some kind of engineering gremlin, holding a scale model in one hand and gesturing toward it with the other, mid-monologue.

Amelia was sitting cross-legged on the floor, a yellow golf ball tucked beneath her heel, grease-smudged notebook balanced on her knee, jotting notes at lightning speed while murmuring confirmations like, “Yeah, but the boundary layer separation’s going to collapse here—unless we change the outwash angle…”

Neither of them noticed Christian standing in the doorway.

The room was covered in paper. The whiteboards had no white left. Someone, probably Adrian, had scrawled equations on the glass wall. There was a half-eaten croissant on the radiator. Half of the work was done in black ink. The other half was done in red. 

He took one silent step backward.

Paused.

Then slowly, quietly, pulled the door closed behind him.

From inside, he could just barely hear Adrian’s voice, “Did I ever tell you about the time I built a full wind tunnel model out of my wife’s hairdryer and a vacuum tube?”

Amelia sucked in a breath. “Did it work?”

“It blew the roof off my shed.”

She laughed, genuinely, full of lightness.

Christian exhaled and reached for his phone.

—

iMessage — 00:45am

Christian Horner

We are going to become world champions. 

Helmut Marko

How can you know?

Christian Horner

Newey is barefoot. His intern is laughing. 

Helmut Marko

Mein Gott.

— 

The drive home from Milton Keynes had been quiet; just the low hiss of the car heater and the soft murmur of the radio.

It had been her first week working at Red Bull Racing. She’d stayed in Max’s flat, the one he kept in Milton Keynes but only used when he was in town for sim sessions. 

The high of her first week was still humming under her skin; the buzz of purpose, of being understood, but underneath that, exhaustion tugged at her bones. She felt stretched thin. Too much stimulus, too many new faces. 

But the moment she stepped through the front door, into the warm, lemon-honey air of the house she’d grown up in, none of that mattered.

Her mum was in the kitchen, back turned, humming softly to the radio.

Amelia didn’t say anything.

She dropped her bag quietly, kicked off her shoes, walked straight over and folded herself into her mother’s arms from behind, pressing her forehead between her shoulder blades, breathing her in.

Tracy stilled. Just for a moment. Then she reached back, tugging Amelia around until she could hold her properly; one hand at the back of her head, the other wrapped around her shoulders, thumb rubbing slow circles into her jumper.

“Hello, darling,” she whispered. “I missed you.”

Amelia pressed closer, her cheek against her mum’s collarbone. “I missed you too.”

They stood there like that for a long time, the hum of the radio filling the silence between them, a wooden spoon tapping gently against the edge of a pan.

“I saw the article,” Tracy said eventually, voice soft. “And the photos.”

Amelia tensed.

Another piece had gone live, following the Motorsport.com exclusive. Red Bull had shared her official announcement — complete with photographs of her in team gear, standing in the middle of Max and Alex. 

Tracy didn’t let her pull away. “You looked very professional. And happy.” 

“I am,” she said, too fast. Then again, slower. “I am. I just… I’m wishing that he wouldn’t make it so hard.”

Tracy sighed into her hair. “Your father’s not angry with you, love. Not really. He’s angry with himself. He had no idea that you were even receiving offers, let alone considering any.”

Amelia swallowed. Shrugged. “He didn’t want me at McLaren. He never offered. I gave him every chance to.”

“I know, sweetheart.” Tracy pulled back just far enough to look her in the eye. “And you were right not to wait forever. You did the brave thing. You put yourself first. I’m proud of you.”

Amelia blinked fast. “I’m not used to that,” she admitted. “Putting myself first. It feels… selfish.”

Tracy brushed a strand of damp hair from her face. “No. Not selfish. It’s how you grow. You’re building race cars with Adrian bloody Newey. That’s something to be incredibly proud of.”

Amelia smiled, weakly. “They call me Mini Newey. All of the engineers. Christian. Max thinks that it’s funny.”

Tracy chuckled, pulling her into a tight squeeze again. “They should call you Better Newey.”

That pulled a real laugh out of her, small and sore and soft.

“Now,” Tracy said, letting her go, “go change into your favourite pyjamas and let me feed you. I bet you haven’t eaten a real meal all week.”

“I’ve been living on machine coffee and stale pastries,” Amelia admitted, already peeling off her jumper. 

Tracy shuddered. “Criminal behaviour. Go on, love. I’ll have dinner on the table in ten.”

As Amelia padded toward the stairs, warmth blooming in her chest, she heard her mum call gently after her. “He’ll come around. He loves you too much not to.”

She didn’t answer, but she nodded once, before disappearing up the stairs.

— 

iMessage — 01:43am

Lando Norris did u leave bc of me like. mclaren it’s okay if u did i just. i just need to know feels like maybe u did and idk. i feel shit also this is prob a bad time. i had like 5 beers and a shot of smth blue was v blue. tasted like acid

Amelia Brown No. Not because of you. You don’t matter to me that much.

Lando Norris ouch ok but like partly bc of me?

Amelia Brown Not everything is about you, Lando.

Lando Norris but some things are

Amelia Brown You started ignoring me. For no reason. Then I got a job designing a future championship-winning car. Those two things are unrelated.

Lando Norris when did u become so meannnn :(

Amelia Brown I’m not being mean. You’re just used to me being quiet when people treat me badly.

Lando Norris i didn’t mean to treat u badly i just panicked everything was getting weird and real and i didn’t know what to say

Amelia Brown So you said nothing. That’s still a choice.

Lando Norris yeah. i know. i’m sorry i miss u sometimes just thought u should know that

Amelia Brown That doesn’t change anything.

Lando Norris yeah i figured ok

Amelia Brown Go home. You are going to feel terrible tomorrow morning. 

Lando Norris already do thanks i guess goodnight mini newey 

Amelia Brown Don’t call me that 

— 

Amelia sat cross-legged on the floor with her laptop open in front of her, the Red Bull Racing CAD interface glowing on the screen. Max was half-stretched out on the couch behind her, a bowl of strawberries balanced on his stomach and a bottle of Heineken in hand.

“Okay,” Amelia said, tapping the trackpad. “Front wing redesign is about eighty percent locked. We’re still playing with DRS and airflow under braking, but I think what we’ve got is going to make the car ridiculously sharp into corners.”

Max took a sip of his beer, watching her over the rim. “Ridiculously sharp sounds nice.” He noted. 

“It’ll bite if you get lazy,” she warned him.

He shrugged. “So, just like you.”

Amelia didn’t even look up at him. Over the past few weeks of working with him, she’d learned how to decipher his tones — he was teasing her. “I’m not lazy. You’d die without me.”

He tossed a strawberry at her. She caught it and took a bite.

She turned back to her laptop, sighed, and opened up the email thread that she and Adrian had going. 

Max cleared his throat. “Ah, have you talked to your dad yet?”

Amelia’s fingers froze over the trackpad. “No.”

Max nodded. “He’s still not talking to you?”

“Nope.” She popped the ‘p’. 

“Your mom?” He questioned. 

“She’s trying. He’s just… stubborn. You know what he’s like.” Amelia exhaled. “He thinks I betrayed him.”

“You didn’t.”

“I know that now.” She rubbed her temple, leaned her head back against the couch. “But I also think I became inconvenient. It was easier when I was just the kid who wanted to build toy cars in the corner. Now I’m—”

“Mini Newey,” Max offered, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She groaned. “Max, stop.”

He rolled his eyes. “You are, though. And you’re building my car, so I’m not complaining.” A pause. “Have you talked to Norris?”

Amelia blinked slowly, then shut her laptop with a quiet snap. “He messaged me two weeks ago. Drunk. Asked if I left McLaren because of him.”

Max raised an eyebrow. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” She scoffed. What a ridiculous idea. “He just… doesn’t get it. He thinks that everything is about him.”

Max laughed. “He’s nineteen. His brain is still soft.”

“I’m also nineteen,” she muttered, tipping her head back against the couch to look up at him. “I think he’s just emotionally illiterate.”

Max blinked, then grinned. “Tell him that to his face. I’d pay to see it.”

“You’re not a world champion yet,” she shot back. “You don’t get to make demands like that.”

He leaned in, until their faces were almost level. “I will be. And when I am, I’ll buy you a stupidly expensive watch for every podium we get.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You say that now.”

“Mark my words,” he said, puffing his chest in mock pride.

They sat there for a while — not quite friends, not just colleagues. Something in-between. Teammates in the truest sense. Bound by a shared obsession: a championship. A car so fast it betrayed the law of physics.

“I miss him,” she said quietly.

Max exhaled through his nose, slow and even. “He’s a nice boy. Stupid, but nice.”

“I know.” Her voice was barely a breath.

— 

iMessage — 18:15

Fernando Alonso How has your first month at RB been? Do I need to make any angry phone calls?

Amelia Brown It’s been great. Everything’s going better than I could’ve imagined. I’m already making progress. Adrian and I work really well together.

Fernando Alonso I told you so, did I not? You two are very alike!

Amelia Brown It’s a perfect fit, actually. I feel like I’m finally being heard.

Fernando Alonso Good, good. I knew it. You made the right choice. And now, you’re three million pounds richer. That helps too.

Amelia Brown Haha, yes. Very much. I would've probably taken £5, so, thank you for handling the negotiation for me.

Fernando Alonso Mi Nina, for your talents, they would have paid three billion.

Amelia Brown I miss you so much. When are you coming to visit?

Fernando Alonso Soon. I’ve got some meetings in London next month.

Amelia Brown Anything exciting?

Fernando Alonso You’ll be the first to know if there is.

Amelia Brown :)

— 

Lando stood with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his hoodie, shoulders hunched, posture defensive. Across the polished meeting table, Zak leaned back in his chair, arms folded tightly over his chest, eyes fixed on the floor like it might offer him an answer he hadn’t already lost.

The silence had stretched too long. 

“She’s really gone, huh?” Lando finally muttered.

Zak didn’t look up. “Yes.”

Lando blinked hard. He wasn’t sure what he expected; some kind of denial, maybe. Some reassurance that there was still a version of this where she came back. That maybe Red Bull was just a phase. A test. Something to prove a point.

“She left a hole here,” Zak said eventually. “Not just in the team. In the culture. She was…” he paused, trying to find a word that wouldn’t sound too sentimental. “I didn’t realise how important she was to the team. How much she was involved in.”

Lando didn’t answer right away. His jaw was tight. “We all let her down.”

Zak looked at him then. Really looked at him. “You liked her.”

It wasn’t a question. Not judgment, either. Just a fact. Like pointing out a flat tire or a burning building.

Lando flinched. “Yeah. I really liked her.”

“You shouldn’t have listened to us,” Zak said quietly. “Any of us. You should’ve fought for her.”

“I couldn’t.” Lando’s voice was sharp, brittle. “I was scared. And stupid.”

Zak let out a rough, humourless laugh. “And I was selfish. I never gave her the recognition she deserved.” He paused. “She was the brain behind the Mercedes deal.”

Lando’s head jerked up, eyes wide.

Zak’s voice dropped, heavy with something close to guilt. “She pulled it all together, handed it to me in a file with start-to-finish instruction. Never asked for credit. I knew she wanted more, deserved more, but I didn’t give it to her. Not because she wasn’t ready. Because I wasn’t brave enough.”

He leaned forward, elbows on the table.

“I didn’t want to be the one who gave her a shot, because I knew what people would say. Nepotism. Favouritism. They’d talk about her name before they ever looked at her work. And I thought I was protecting her from that.” He shook his head. “But I wasn’t. I was just holding her back.”

Lando stared at him. Silent.

There it was.

The ugly truth of it all.

Lando swallowed thickly. “She was never going to stay.”

“No,” Zak said. “No. I don’t think so.” 

Lando ran a hand over his face. 

She had belonged here once. She had. And they’d both let her feel like she didn’t.

Now she was designing the future with the enemy.

And they just had to sit back and watch it happen.

— 

The paddock buzzed with the usual pre-season chaos; the rhythmic whirr of engines, the sharp sound of tires scraping against the asphalt, and the chatter of team members huddled in tight circles. 

Amelia stood near the Red Bull garage, her posture stiff but her eyes alert, scanning the familiar sea of cars and faces.

It was the start of the 2020 season, and everything felt both familiar and brand new. The sharp smell of fuel lingered in the air, mixing with the faint metallic tang of freshly waxed cars. But this time, she wasn’t in McLaren orange or one of her father’s old team shirts; this time, she was in Red Bull team gear. Black and dark blue with that iconic bull on her chest, the Red Bull Racing logo proud on her back.

And tucked around her neck, a pair of navy blue Red Bull ear defenders. 

She glanced to her left. Max was chatting animatedly with Christian, the two of them gesturing towards the car as the crew worked around it. Adrian was nearby, bent over a laptop, his face creased in concentration. Amelia would soon be next to him, diving into the data and throwing out her ideas. But for a moment, she lingered at the edge of the paddock, trying to ease herself into this new, new, new. 

Amelia’s gaze drifted toward the McLaren garage, even though she knew she shouldn’t be looking. There was Lando, standing with her dad, his usual smile present but different. Amelia tried not to flinch.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her ear defenders, the cool plastic grounding her, just a little. She had left her golf ball in her office, determined not to need it. 

Her eyes flicked back to the Red Bull car, sleek and aggressive in its design. It was more than just metal and carbon fiber. It was partly her work, her heart and soul poured into something tangible. 

And then, from the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a camera crew approaching her.

Her stomach dropped. 

The journalist’s voice reached her first, though she barely registered the words. “Amelia, first season with Red Bull Racing. You’ve been working behind the scenes for a while, but now you're here, in the paddock, in full Red Bull gear. How does it feel to be wearing navy blue now, after spending so much time with your father’s team, McLaren?”

Before she could formulate any kind of response, a familiar presence appeared beside her. Max.

He stepped in without hesitation, his body language calm and protective as he leaned slightly into her space. His gaze shifted to the interviewer, who looked briefly excited at the new addition. 

"Need an out?" Max asked her, his voice low enough only for her to hear. His stance was relaxed, but there was something in the way he held himself; a quiet assurance that, if she needed him to, he would get her away. 

The camera crew hovered expectantly, but Max didn’t flinch. He didn’t let the pressure reach her. He stayed right there, like a grounding force beside her.

"Amelia?" The interviewer prompted, waiting for her response.

Max’s eyes softened as he glanced at her. “Say whatever feels right,” he murmured, offering her a smile that was small but understanding. “You don’t owe them anything.”

For a moment, Amelia felt the tension drain from her. This wasn’t a performance. She didn’t have to give them the perfect soundbite. She could speak her truth, on her own terms.

She took a deep breath and, feeling Max still there, solid and supportive beside her, looked directly at the interviewer.

“It feels powerful,” she said simply, her voice steady but soft. It was the truth. For the first time, it felt like she was owning her decisions, not just navigating them. Powerful because this was her journey now. Because, despite everything, she was in total control.

The interviewer didn’t push for more, probably sensing the finality in her words. But the moment lingered for a second longer, like they were all collectively taking a breath.

Max gave her a subtle nod of approval, his lips twitching into a smirk. 

And, just as quickly, the two of them turned and started walking away, the cameras still rolling behind them, but it didn’t matter. Amelia’s shoulders relaxed, a weight lifting, and her feet carried her toward the garage.

— 

iMessage — 19:51

Lando Norris I’m sorry. I know that’s not good enough but I am I’m really sorry. And I want you to know that I’m happy for you. I’m not being sarcastic. You looked beautiful on camera. I’m glad Max was there with you. I wish it had been me.

Amelia Brown Congratulations on the podium finish, Lando.

— 

The morning sun was bright over the circuit as Max and Amelia walked into the F3 paddock. Amelia was wearing a denim dress. Max, in his typical laid-back skinny jeans and plain shirt, had his hands in his pockets and a baseball cap perched low over his eyes. He was always eager to watch the younger drivers, always curious about who might be the next big thing in motorsport.

She was more used to the engineering side of things, but she’d been a fan of motorsport in general since she was a child. The thrill of being here just to watch was amazing. 

They settled into the VIP viewing platform. The race kicked off with an energy that seemed to buzz in the air. Engines roared and the young drivers raced past, navigating the tight turns and high-speed straights with a determination that made Amelia feel the thrill of the sport she’d always loved.

As the race unfolded, Amelia’s eyes were drawn to car 81; Oscar Piastri. The young Australian was carving through the field with an almost eerie calm, moving up with a precision that belied his years. He raced like someone who had been here for ages, his every move instinctive yet calculated, as though he had been born for this.

Amelia felt that familiar pull. It was the same feeling she had gotten watching Lando in Formula Renault all those years ago — a sense that she was witnessing something special. Piastri surged ahead, eventually crossing the line first, claiming the win in the season opener.

“Damn,” Max muttered, impressed. “Kid’s fast.”

Amelia leaned in closer to the barrier, watching as Piastri celebrated with his team, their joy radiating from every hug and high-five. She turned to Max, who was watching her closely, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Don’t get too attached,” he teased. “He’s not yours to claim yet.”

“I’m not trying to claim him,” she replied, her tone steady, though there was an undeniable certainty in her voice. “But I will. When the time comes. And I think...” She trailed off, watching Piastri for a moment longer. “It will come for him very soon.”

Max grinned, shaking his head fondly. “Always thinking ahead, kleine zus.”

Amelia’s eyes remained on the Australian driver, a quiet feeling settling deep in her chest. She couldn’t quite place it.

“His manager?” she asked, her gaze still on Oscar as he laughed with his team, the world around him seeming to pause for a moment.

“Mark Webber,” Max replied, his voice neutral, but his expression unreadable.

“Ah.” Amelia’s lips tipped upward into an amused smile. Mark Webber, who had been central to Red Bull's rise in the sport. She glanced sideways at Max, then back at Oscar. “Mark Webber,” she repeated, her voice soft. “It’s strange, isn't it? Fernando and Mark; rivals. And now, I’m working at Red Bull thanks to Fernando, and Oscar is under Mark’s wing.” She looked at Max, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. “Formula One is a funny place.”

Max grinned, clearly entertained by the thought. “You can make connections out of anything, can’t you?”

Amelia let out a soft laugh, her gaze returning to the young driver in the distance. “I guess I do,” she said, her voice quieter now, a subtle sense of realisation setting in. “And somehow, they always seem to circle back to Red Bull.”

It was funny how Formula 1 worked that way: legacies, rivalries, and new beginnings always intertwined.

—

iMessage — 00:42am

Amelia Brown

Are you in Woking?

Lando Norris

Yes…?

Amelia Brown

I’m home alone. Come over. I am still angry at you, but I’m ready to talk to you now.

Lando Norris

Ok im omw like right now

NEXT CHAPTER

[shadowwfoxx]

Spoiled

Logan Howlett x fem!reader

Summary- Reader who thinks it’s not that hard to do all of the work during sex and gets humbled.

-Kinda thought of 2017 Logan for this

You feel like you’ve been doing this for hours. Your hands holding yourself on the recliner chair arms as you bounced on Logan’s cock. Your legs burn as you stutter with your rhythm. 

“You havin’ trouble there kid?” He smirks. His arms bent behind his head. He knew exactly how this would play out. 

“Please.” You cry out. You start to slow down to bring relief to your legs.

He shakes his head. “If it’s as easy as you said, then you don’t need my help.” Logan reaches over for his cigar before leaning back down into the recliner chair and inhaling the smoke.

You groan now sexually frustrated and tired. You stop your movements, panting softly. 

Logan slaps your ass. You whine at the sting. “I don’t remember telling ya to stop.” He says muffled as the cigar is still in his mouth. The smell of sweet tobacco flooding your senses. 

“I-I can’t my legs hurt,” You pout. “Need your help please.” 

Logan turns his head to the side to huff out a cloud of smoke before smirking at your desperate state. He holds eye contact with your pleading eyes. “Is that so baby?” 

You nod quickly. “Yea yea, need you daddy.” Your voice is just above a whisper. 

Logan sighs as he leans over to put his cigar in the ashtray on the side table. “Always gettin’ what ya want huh?” He shuffles down into the chair so that his hips are no longer resting on the chair. He plants his feet on the floor. 

“So spoiled.” Logan’s hands run up and down your curves, making their way towards your ass before smacking it. You let out a breathy gasp.

You lean in to kiss him on the lips. It was supposed to be a peck before you felt his hand at the back of your head, bringing you closer to deepen it. You whimper. You separate from the heated kiss breathless.

“How bad do you want it? Tell me.” His hands squeezing your ass.

“Want it so bad daddy. Want you to make me feel good.” Your voice is low and whiny, waiting for him to give you what you want. 

He hesitates for a minute. Wondering if he should tease you more. But who is he to not give his girl what she wants? 

He finally starts to move, thrusting his hips up into you slowly. You moan, closing your eyes and throwing your head back.

He squeezes your hips hard. “Nuh-uh eyes on me.” You whine softly as your eyes meet his. They are dark and hungry now. 

“There you go darlin’.” Your arms holding onto the top of the chair, trying your best to hold yourself up as he increases the speed of his thrusts. The sound of your wetness and skin slapping echoes in the room.

“Fuckkk” You let out soft noises of pleasure above him, breathing heavily. Logan holds tightly on your waist now, using it to bring you up and down to meet his thrusts. Your tits bouncing at every thrust.

“Yea, you like it when daddy does all the work for ya huh?” He whispers in a teasing tone. You nod eagerly. His cock glistened with your wetness, a white ring forming around him after every thrust. “Just wanna sit there and take it like the good girl y’are.” 

“Mhm hm.” You whimper. Your walls tighten around him. Your pussy aches for more. “H-Harder.” You beg. He groans loudly as his grip tightens around your waist.

“Y’want it nice n’rough huh pretty girl?” He growls as he now thrusts faster. His heavy balls smacking your ass. Your wetness now coats them, making everything sticky.

You moan loudly, trying your best to hold yourself up above him as your arms start to shake. Your body is overwhelmed with pleasure as he continues to pound into your sweet spot. You gasp as the burn inside of you intensifies. 

“Such a dirty fuckin’ girl aren’t ya.” His big hands rubbing up and down your back. Your pussy feels wetter and hotter each time he speaks. 

“M-so close please.” You beg. Your eyes tearing up from the immense pleasure. The band in your belly threatening to snap. This is the release you’ve been searching for all night. 

“Is my girl gonna come? Hm? Gonna make a mess all over my cock? C’mon, darlin’ give it to me. Come all over daddy’s cock. That’s it- fuck.” Logan groans as he grips your hips tightly.

“Sh-it!” You gasp as your orgasm hits you. You grip tightly on his arms as your lower body jerks. You start to bounce yourself hard on his dick, his thrusts never letting up as he helps you through it. 

“That’s it. Take what you need baby.” Logan smirks up at you. He’s so cocky knowing only he can see you fall apart like this and make you feel so good.

You bite your lip and you groan, your hips slowly stopping its movements. Your breathing heavily as the intensity of your orgasm dies down. 

Logan’s thrusts never let up, still keeping the same fast and deep pace. “Oh my god.” You whine as you start to feel the overstimulation. You throw your head back moaning. “T-Too much.” 

Your arms give out, now chest to chest with Logan’s hairy and sweaty one. Your face is in the crook of his neck, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck as the other wraps around your body to grip your hip. 

“Just give me one more hm? I know y’can c’mon.” He praises you as he kisses your cheek. You moan as you feel his hands on your ass, gripping and spreading them apart. You clench around him. “Fuckk that’s it, baby.” 

You feel your second orgasm coming closer. You whine and squirm against him. He pants in your ear as you feel him twitch inside of you. 

The way his pubic hair brushes against your clit mixed with his cock hitting that spot inside of you is enough to make you unravel again.

“M’cumming.” You squeal, nails scratching his biceps as you keep a tight hold on them. Your walls tighten around him as you go through your second orgasm. 

“Gonna come in this pussy. Fuck. Gonna fill you up nice and deep. You want that baby? Hm?” Logan curses as your walls suffocate him.

“Yeayeayea give it to me.” You babble, moaning in his ear. Logan lets out a breathy chuckle at your eagerness. 

“Want you to take all of it f’me like a good fuckin' girl.” He growls in your ear as he chases his high. His grip on you tighter than ever, sure to leave marks on your skin later. 

He groans loudly as he releases. You feel his cum shoot inside of you. He pushes your hips all the way down on his cock, causing you to whimper. You feel his balls tightened as they drain his cum into you. 

He gives you one final thrust before he stills inside of you. His grip on you loosens as you both catch your breath.

"Maybe we should stick to you doin' all the work."

[madaqueue]

f!reader - 18+ MDNI (briefly going down on you and then just him fucking you + praise…hhh need him so bad - wk: 0.5k)

childe is eager, almost impossibly so. eager for battle, for blood, for the way his heart lurches with a landed strike and beats loudly in its golden cage.

he’s especially eager, it would seem, tonight. with the way he yanks your clothes off, tearing a few seams too many (something to repair later, you think), the way he mouths at your cunt through the thin fabric separating him from your warmth.

the sharp, prolonged inhale from him is almost embarrassing, almost makes you cover your eyes to hide the heat staining your cheeks. you’d try, if you didn’t know him so well - there’s an eagerness to hear all your little sounds, to see your face twist and warp into pleasure, because of him. he’s making you feel this good, as his tongue travels a slow, tortuous path up your folds. he’s making you feel this good, as his lips curl and suck over your clit. every moan that drips from your throat is rewarded ten-fold, hot breath and his own low, vibrating sounds against your skin, his hips rutting into the mattress, not even seeking friction when they search desperately for more of you.

once you’re finally naked, shredded articles laying around the mattress in a heap, once he finally sinks into you and feels the sun washing over him, he finds himself eager once more: this time, for your praise.

“is that good?” he asks into the space above your collarbone, hot breath filling his lungs but left with no other option than to suck it in quickly, ravenously. the way his cock stretches you with each thrust only spurs him on, faster, harder. “you like that?”

when you nod, quickly, his teeth nip at the column of your neck.

“tell me, pretty.” hips slam into yours, skin and sweat and more, more, more. “tell me how good i make you feel.”

and you worry you can’t, can’t fill the ever-emptying hole inside him that needs a constant source of your love, your light. but you’ll try.

“so good,” you babble, words bubbling over your lips and into his. “so good, it’s so good. you’re so good.” you think your fingers are running through his hair; you think he smiles.

“yeah?”

“yeah.” and you think maybe you’re smiling too. “feels - ah - the best.”

a grin that’s all teeth; a thrust that has your back arching from the bed and further into him.

“never felt like this before, never felt so good.” and now, your fingers trace his cheekbones, and you wonder if you’ve ever looked at the sun with half as much adoration. “the best, ajax, you’re the best.”

at that, he whines, and fucks you harder. “it’s because nobody’s ever loved you like i do. right?”

“nobody.” sky-blue eyes meet yours, and you feel the question hiding behind the clouds. “i’ve never loved anyone like you.”

he lets the fire inside him burst when his thrusts pick up speed and lose their tempo altogether. lets you feel it in the boyish giggle that morphs into a moan of your name when he hears you whispering ‘i love you, i love you, i love you.’ eats up the words and your lips, hungry, aching, begging. swallows them with an eager tongue and smiles.

a/n: yearning for him in a way that’s soooo normal (i would pull the sun from the sky and hand it to him with burnt palms)

[verus-veritas]

Becoming The Perfect Family

(AI-Generated - Story concept by the incredible @kylecrusoe-captions)

Kyle’s life had always been a gray blur. An only child to parents who barely looked up from their phones, he’d grown up starved for connection, his days bleeding into one another in a haze of neglect. Then the Armstrongs moved in next door, and everything changed. They weren’t any ordinary family—they were a force. Loud, physical, unapologetic, they filled the quiet suburban street with their presence. Kyle couldn’t look away. From his bedroom window, he watched them, his chest tight with longing, his mind spinning fantasies he’d never dare voice. They were untouchable he thought, until he found the tome.

It was a fluke, really. Tucked in the back of the college library, behind a row of moldy textbooks, the ancient book practically pulsed under his fingers. Its leather cover was cracked, its pages yellowed and curling, but the words inside promised power: Shape reality. Claim what’s yours. Kyle didn’t believe it at first, but desperation has a way of eroding skepticism. That night, alone in his room, he lit a candle, traced the runes with trembling fingers, and whispered the spell. He didn’t expect it to work. He fell asleep to the sound of his own heartbeat, disappointed... until he woke up somewhere else.

The bed was too small, the air thick with the musky scent of sweat and testosterone. Kyle blinked, disoriented, and then he felt a warm, heavy leg slung over his own. Clive Armstrong—his new younger brother—lay sprawled beside him, his lean, runner’s body barely contained by a pair of tight briefs. His wavy brown hair was a mess, his thin mustache twitching as he snored softly.

Kyle’s breath caught. He was in the Armstrong house, sharing a queen-sized bed with Clive like it was the most natural thing in the world. The room was cramped, cluttered with gym bags and running shoes, a testament to the family’s athletic obsession—and their lack of funds for separate bedrooms. Clive shifted, his bare chest brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle realized he was in his underwear too. No awkwardness, no hesitation—just the casual intimacy of brothers. The spell had worked.

Jared Armstrong: The Stoic Patriarch

The father, Jared Armstrong was a man carved from grit and muscle. At forty-five, he didn’t look a day over forty, his frame lean but powerful, honed from years of coaching college athletes into submission. His dark hair was cropped short, his jaw perpetually shadowed with stubble that gave him a rugged, almost dangerous edge. He was the kind of handsome that hit you like a punch—unpolished, raw, and utterly masculine. As the head coach at the local college, he had a reputation for running brutal gym classes, leaving students hobbling away with sore muscles and whispered curses. Cold and intimidating, he carried himself with a quiet authority that made people shrink in his presence. But with his sons, there was a flicker of something softer—a gruff tenderness he’d never admit to.

Kyle’s first morning as an Armstrong started with Jared. He stood in the kitchen, shirtless in a pair of faded sweatpants, barking orders as he blended a protein shake. His biceps flexed with every move, a sheen of sweat already clinging to his chest from an early workout. “Up and at ‘em, Kyle,” he grunted, barely glancing over. “No slackers in this house.” His voice was a low rumble, but there was no malice—just expectation. Kyle nodded mutely, still dazed, and Jared tossed him a banana with a smirk. “Eat. You’re too damn skinny.” It was the closest thing to affection Kyle had ever gotten from a father, and it lit something warm and dangerous in his chest.

Clive Armstrong: The Wild Spark

Clive was chaos in motion. At nineteen, a college freshman, he was the younger of Jared’s sons, and he wore his rebellion like a badge. Lean and toned, his body was built for speed—powerful legs that carried him through endless runs, a smooth chest that glistened with sweat every summer morning. His wavy brown hair fell into his eyes, and that thin mustache on his upper lip gave him a roguish charm. He was mischievous, quick with a smirk or a jab, but his temper was a live wire—explosive and unpredictable. Rumors swirled about him on campus: a passionate lover who’d leave you breathless, but a selfish one who’d sulk if he didn’t get his way. Kyle had seen it firsthand—Clive jogging shirtless around the neighborhood, ignoring Kyle’s timid waves with an annoyed glare.

Now, as his “little brother,” Kyle got the full Clive experience. That first morning, Clive rolled out of bed with a groan, stretching his jockish frame until his spine popped. “Fuck, I hate mornings,” he muttered, scratching his abs as he stumbled to the bathroom. He didn’t care that Kyle was there, didn’t bother to cover up—just strutted around in his briefs like it was nothing. Later, at breakfast, he shoved Kyle’s shoulder playfully, grinning. “You’re eating like a bird, bro. Gotta bulk up if you’re gonna keep up with me.” His touch lingered, his fingers brushing Kyle’s arm, and Kyle felt a jolt he couldn’t explain. Clive was a tease, a spark—and Kyle wanted to get burned.

Benjamin Armstrong: The Silent Storm

Benjamin, at twenty-one, was the eldest, a college senior with a presence that filled every room. Tall and muscular, he wasn’t bulky like a bodybuilder but lean and defined, his frame a testament to years on the basketball court. His intense eyes—dark and unreadable—could pin you in place, and the slight stubble on his cheeks only sharpened his brooding edge. Ambitious and quiet, he carried himself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, dismissing anyone he deemed unworthy of his time. But those he cared about? He’d guard them with a ferocity that was almost feral. His athletic fame stretched across state lines—everyone knew Ben Armstrong, the guy who could sink a three-pointer with his eyes closed.

Kyle’s first real encounter with Ben came that afternoon. He was shooting hoops in the driveway, shirtless and focused, his muscles rippling with every move. Kyle hesitated, then stepped outside, and Ben glanced over—those piercing eyes locking onto him. “You just gonna stand there?” he said, voice low and clipped. He tossed Kyle the ball, hard enough to sting. “Shoot.” Kyle fumbled it, and Ben snorted, stepping closer. “Gotta work on that grip, man. You’re an Armstrong—act like it.” There was no warmth, but there was something else—possession. Ben didn’t ignore him anymore. He saw him.

---

For weeks, Kyle soaked it in. The Armstrong house was a whirlwind of testosterone—sweaty gym clothes strewn across the floor, Jared’s gruff lectures about discipline, Clive’s endless energy, Ben’s quiet intensity. Kyle belonged, finally, and it was intoxicating. He’d catch himself staring—Jared curling weights in the garage, his biceps straining; Clive sprinting past the window, abs flexing; Ben toweling off after a shower, water dripping down his chest. They were his family now, but the tome under his mattress whispered a darker desire. He didn’t just want their acceptance. He wanted their love—the kind that crossed every line.

One night, alone in the dim glow of their shared room, Kyle pulled out the tome. Clive was out running, the house quiet. The spell was there, buried in the back: Bind their hearts. Irreversible. The warning loomed large, but Kyle’s hands shook with need. He’d rewritten reality once—what was one more push? He lit the candle, chanted the words, and felt the air hum with power. When he finished, the flame guttered out, and he waited.

The shift was slow, deliciously so. The next morning, Jared’s hand lingered on Kyle’s shoulder as he passed him a plate of eggs. “Looking stronger, kid,” he said, his voice softer, his stubble brushing Kyle’s cheek as he pulled him into a long, sweaty hug. Clive ambushed him later, tackling him onto the couch with a laugh. “Gotcha, bro!” he crowed, pinning Kyle down, his lean body pressing close, his sweaty armpit shoved playfully into Kyle’s face. “Smell that? That’s victory.” His grin was wicked, his touch too firm to be innocent. Ben, meanwhile, waited by the car after class, insisting on driving Kyle home. “Can’t trust you out there alone,” he muttered, his hand grazing Kyle’s thigh as he drove, his eyes flickering with something unspoken.

Day by day, it deepened. Jared took to coaching Kyle in the garage, his hands guiding Kyle’s form, his breath hot against Kyle’s neck. “Good boy,” he’d murmur, and the praise sank into Kyle’s bones. Clive’s roughhousing turned flirty—tickling that lingered on Kyle’s sides, headlocks that pulled their bodies flush. Ben grew obsessive, shadowing Kyle everywhere, hoisting him onto his shoulders after practice with a grip that was too tight, too tender. They were falling for him, their coy glances and casual touches betraying the spell’s work. Kyle had them—father, brothers, all of them—and he wasn’t done yet.

The Morning Fire

The tension between Kyle and Clive had been simmering for days, a slow boil of lingering touches and heated glances. It all came to a head one evening when their usual roughhousing took a turn. Clive had Kyle in a headlock, his lean, sweaty body pressed tight against Kyle’s, his armpit shoved into Kyle’s face as he laughed. “Take it, bro!” he’d teased, but Kyle—caught up in the musk and the heat—flicked his tongue against Clive’s skin, tasting salt and desire. Clive froze, his grip tightening for a split second before he let go, his face flushed, his breath uneven. He didn’t say anything, just smirked and walked away, but the air between them crackled.

The next morning, Kyle woke to a sensation that jolted him from sleep—Clive’s hand, warm and insistent, buried deep in Kyle’s underwear. Fingers curled around him, stroking slow and deliberate, coaxing him awake. Kyle’s eyes fluttered open, groggy, and there was Clive—his wavy brown hair tousled, his thin mustache framing lips inches from Kyle’s own. His face was flushed, his hazel eyes burning with intensity as hot breath fanned across Kyle’s skin. “I want you,” Clive rasped, voice thick with need, before closing the gap. His lips crashed into Kyle’s, hungry and unrestrained, a kiss that was all tongue and heat and perverse promise.

They made out like they were starving for it, hands roaming, bodies tangling in the sheets. Clive rolled Kyle onto his side, pressing up behind him, his jock musk filling the air as he positioned himself. “Gonna take care of you, bro,” he murmured against Kyle’s ear, his voice low and filthy. He entered Kyle slowly, inch by inch, his lean frame molding to Kyle’s back, arms wrapping around him in a possessive hug. The rhythm was sensual, deliberate—Clive’s breaths hitching as he thrust, his lips brushing Kyle’s neck, his cock buried deep. When he finished, he came with a shudder, spilling inside Kyle, kissing his spine as he stayed lodged there, unwilling to pull out. Exhausted and sated, they fell asleep again, entwined in the musky haze of their shared bed.

For the next week, it became their ritual. Every morning, Kyle woke to Clive’s hands or mouth on him, followed by slow, passionate fucking—Clive always the big spoon, always finishing inside, always kissing Kyle’s back as they drifted off again. The bedroom reeked of sweat and sex, an erotic sanctuary for their newfound bond.

The Steamy Afternoon

Benjamin noticed the change almost immediately. His younger brothers were different—closer, more tactile, their mornings stretching longer behind that closed bedroom door. He’d hear the muffled laughter, the creak of the bed, and it gnawed at him. Envy twisted in his gut. Kyle was his brother too, and Ben wasn’t about to be left out. He started claiming Kyle’s time during the day, dragging him to the basketball court five times a week. “Gotta toughen you up,” he’d say, his intense eyes raking over Kyle’s exhausted form. Kyle didn’t mind—Ben’s presence, all towering muscle and quiet intensity, was its own kind of drug.

One afternoon, after a grueling session, they stumbled into the house, drenched in sweat. Ben peeled off his shirt, revealing a torso carved from marble, and nodded toward the bathroom. “Shower time. But, uh, heater’s busted—only enough hot water for one.” It was a lie, and they both knew it, but Kyle didn’t argue. “We’ll share,” Ben said, casual as anything. “No big deal, right? We’re brothers.” The bathroom filled with steam, their wet bodies brushing as they stepped under the spray. Ben scrubbed Kyle’s back, his hands lingering, sliding lower than necessary, and Kyle returned the favor, tracing the lines of Ben’s muscled shoulders. The air thickened, their breaths syncing, until they were both hard, cocks straining against the heat.

Ben turned, water dripping from his stubble, his eyes dark with something raw. “I love you, lil bro,” he said, voice barely audible over the spray. Then, softer: “Need a favor.” Kyle didn’t hesitate. He sank to his knees, the tiles biting into his skin, and took Ben’s engorged cock into his mouth—thick, pulsing, tasting of sweat and salt. Ben groaned, hands fisting in Kyle’s hair, guiding him deeper.

They didn’t stop there. The afternoon bled into hours in Ben’s room, locked in a feverish 69—Kyle’s mouth on Ben, Ben’s on Kyle, sucking and licking until they were both spent, throats raw and bodies trembling.

The Ultimate Weekend

It was a lazy Saturday morning when it all collided. Ben slipped into the younger brothers’ room, intent on dragging Kyle out for an early shootaround, only to freeze in the doorway. There they were—Kyle and Clive, naked and tangled, lips locked in a sloppy, passionate kiss. Clive’s hands roamed Kyle’s body, possessive and greedy, and Kyle moaned into it, arching against him. Ben’s jaw tightened, envy flaring into rage. “What the fuck?” he snapped, storming in. Clive pulled back, smirking, but his eyes were defiant. “He’s mine, Ben. Back off.”

“Yours?” Ben scoffed, stepping closer. “I’ve been fucking him too, asshole.” The room erupted—shouting, shoving, a messy tangle of jealousy and testosterone. Kyle, caught between them, tried to mediate, but they weren’t listening. Finally, Clive growled, “Fine. Let’s settle it—whoever makes him cum hardest wins.” Ben nodded, grim and determined, but they couldn’t agree on turns. “Fuck it,” Ben said, stripping down. “We’ll do it together.”

What followed was a blur of heat and flesh. Kyle found himself sandwiched on the bed—Clive behind him, thrusting into his ass with that slow, possessive rhythm, while Ben knelt in front, feeding Kyle his thick cock, hands gripping his head. Kyle gagged and moaned, lost in the dual assault, their sweaty jock bodies pinning him in place. They were relentless, each trying to outdo the other, forcing him toward climax.

Then the door creaked open. Jared stood there, a tray of pancakes and coffee in hand, his plan to surprise Kyle with breakfast in bed crumbling at the sight. Clive and Ben froze, mid-thrust, panic flashing across their faces. “Dad, we can explain—” Clive started, but Jared cut him off, his voice a low growl. 

“You little shits didn’t think to invite me?” He set the tray down, and Kyle noticed the bulge in his pocket—a stack of condom wrappers he’d tried to hide. His intentions had been less innocent than pancakes.

Jared stripped, revealing a body that put every dad in town to shame—hairy, muscular, a coach’s physique built from years of discipline. At school, he was a tyrant, but here, with his sons, he was different—gentle, submissive, eager to please. “I’ve got experience,” he said, voice rough with lust. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

The room descended into chaos—a perverse fuckfest. Clive resumed pounding Kyle’s ass, Ben fucked his throat, and Jared dropped to his knees, devouring Kyle’s cock with a hunger that bordered on worship. His tongue worked expertly, sucking and slurping, while his sons ravaged Kyle from both ends.

Hours passed in a haze of sweat and moans. Kyle came again and again—first from Clive’s relentless thrusts, then Ben’s brutal pace down his throat, and finally Jared’s insatiable mouth, draining him dry. When they finished, well past noon, Kyle collapsed on the musky bed, sore and blissed out. Ben snuggled close, nuzzling his neck, while across the room, Clive bent Jared over the edge of the bed, fucking him with the same passion he’d given Kyle. Jared took it eagerly, groaning his sons’ names.

Kyle lay there, surrounded by their heat, their love, their twisted devotion. Two jock brothers and a coach dad, all his—family and lovers in one. The tome had given him everything, and as he drifted off, drained and overjoyed, he knew he’d found his perfect place in the world.

---

The Final Night

Kyle had everything he’d ever dreamed of—two jock brothers and a coach dad, their bodies and hearts bent to his will by the tome’s magic. But as the days wore on, a gnawing discontent settled in his bones. He’d crafted a perfect family, a perverse paradise of love and lust, but when he caught his reflection in the mirror—scrawny, unremarkable, a shadow next to the Armstrongs’ chiseled glory—it soured everything. He wasn’t one of them, not really. Not in the way he wanted to be. The tome, still hidden under his mattress, hummed with its final offer. Three spells per human, it had warned, before it would vanish forever. He’d used two—reality bending, heart binding. One remained.

Late one night, while Clive slept beside him, Kyle pulled the tome free. Its pages rustled as if alive, guiding him to a spell buried in the back: Soul Possession. The words were stark, immoral, promising to let him claim another’s body, their identity, their life—erasing them to make room for him. His eyes drifted to Clive, sprawled out in the dim moonlight, his toned runner’s body glistening with a sheen of sweat, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm. Clive’s jock perfection, his promising future as a track star, his effortless charisma—it was everything Kyle craved. Losing Clive as a lover stung, but taking his place? That was worth it.

He lit the candle, traced the runes, and whispered the incantation, his voice trembling with greed. The air grew heavy, but nothing happened. Disappointed, he crawled back into bed, pressing himself against Clive’s warm frame, and drifted off. It wasn’t until the dead of night that the spell ignited.

Kyle woke—or thought he did—to a sensation of weightlessness. His body shimmered, losing form, dissolving into a pulsing cloud of pure energy. He hovered, disembodied, above the bed, staring down at Clive’s sleeping form. Then, slowly, deliberately, he began to flow. Tendrils of his essence slithered downward, seeking entry. They slipped into Clive’s mouth, curling around his tongue, tasting the musk of his breath. They poured into his nose, filling his lungs, and wormed into his ears, threading through the delicate canals. Lower, they ventured—sliding under the waistband of Clive’s briefs, seeping into his cock, hardening it as they invaded, and creeping into his asshole, stretching and filling him with a perverse intimacy.

The process was slow, sensual, a violation so deep it bordered on ecstasy. Inside Clive, Kyle’s energy spread, weaving through every blood vessel, every nerve, a warm, electric tide. He pushed deeper, seeking Clive’s core, his soul, his essence, and found it; a bright flickering spark. Kyle enveloped it, forcing himself inside, fusing with it until there was no separation. Clive’s knowledge flooded him—every race he’d run, every lover he’d taken, every rebellious outburst. His dreams, his aspirations, his thoughts. They were Kyle’s now, absorbed and owned.

On the bed, Clive’s body rebelled. His lean frame seized, muscles twitching violently, his head thrashing against the pillow. Sweat poured from him, soaking the sheets, his jock musk thickening the air as his limbs flailed. His cock strained against his briefs, leaking, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Then, with a final shudder the new core snapped into place. Kyle’s essence fully merged and Clive’s body stilled, limp and glistening in the moonlight.

Morning broke, and the new Clive woke. He stretched, relishing the taut power of his legs, the flex of his abs, the weight of his cock in his briefs. He slipped out of bed, leaving the damp sheets behind, and padded to the bathroom. The mirror greeted him with Clive’s face, and he stopped, breath catching. This was his now. Every detail, every curve, and he intended to savor it.

He leaned closer, hands trembling as they rose to his head. His fingers tugged at the wavy brown hair, thick and soft, pulling gently to feel the roots stretch against his scalp. It was wild, untamed, a runner’s mane, and he let it fall back into place, a slow smile spreading. His gaze dropped to the thin mustache framing his upper lip. He caressed it with his thumb, tracing its coarse texture, the bristles prickling his skin. It was Clive’s signature—roguish, bold—and he pressed harder, feeling the shape of his mouth beneath it. His tongue darted out, thicker than he remembered, heavy and warm as he ran it along his lips, tasting the faint salt of sweat. He pushed it further, curling it against the mustache, playing with its heft, a perverse thrill building in his gut.

He raised an arm, flexing the lean muscle, and buried his face in the pit. Clive’s jock musk hit him—sharp, earthy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his head swim. He inhaled deeply, letting it fill his lungs, his cock twitching in his briefs as the scent consumed him. With Clive’s vocal cords, he spoke, voice thick and resonant, a rumble that vibrated through his chest: “I love myself.” The words hung in the air, a declaration of ownership, and he groaned, the sound raw and primal.

Memories flickered—Ben in the shower, water slicking his chiseled frame, their bodies pressed tight, then locked in a 69 on Ben’s bed, sucking each other dry. Jared bursting in with breakfast, only to strip and beg Clive to fuck him, his hairy ass clenching around every thrust. The reality he’d crafted had followed him, woven into this new life. The sight of Clive’s face staring back, the musk, the voice, the memories—it was too much. His hand brushed his briefs, and he came hard, a hot, shuddering release that soaked the fabric, his knees buckling as he gripped the sink. He panted, watching the flush spread across Clive’s cheeks in the mirror. But it wasn’t enough. He needed to know more, to feel more.

He stood there, panting, and let Clive’s memories unspool in his mind, a torrent of sensation and sin. Clive jerking off in the shower for the first time, marveling at the power of his own body, the water slicking his lean frame as he came against the tiles. A summer night, lying shirtless on the roof with a boy from track, his hands on Clive’s abs, his mustache brushing the boy’s neck as he whispered filthy promises he’d never keep. And the dreams—Clive’s aspirations to go pro, to feel the wind on his face as he broke records, to fuck his way through every city he’d race in, leaving a trail of spent lovers behind. Every memory was vivid, visceral, a tapestry of sweat, sex, and defiance, and Kyle drank it all in, his cock throbbing anew as he claimed it as his own.

Clive—once Kyle, stepped out of the bathroom, his briefs still damp from his spontaneous release. The mirror had been a revelation, a slow dance of self-discovery that left him trembling with power and lust, but it wasn’t enough. His new flesh hummed with potential, every nerve alight with Clive’s vitality, and he craved more. He padded back to the bedroom, the air thick with the musk of sweat and sex that clung to the sheets from nights of passion with his former self. The tome was gone, its third spell spent, but its legacy pulsed in his veins. This was his now—every inch, every scent, every shudder—and he intended to claim it fully.

The bed loomed before him, a tangled mess of stained fabric and jock stench, a testament to Clive’s athletic life and their shared mornings of perverse love. He crawled onto it, knees sinking into the mattress, and pressed his face into the pillow where Clive’s head had rested hours before. The smell hit him—sharp, tangy, a heady mix of sweat and testosterone that made his cock twitch anew. He groaned, low and guttural, and dragged his tongue across the fabric, tasting the salt of Clive’s essence, now his own. His hands roamed his new body, tracing the lean muscles of his chest, the taut ridges of his abs, and he marveled at the power beneath his skin—runner’s legs, a sprinter’s core, all his to command.

He flipped onto his back, briefs straining as his arousal grew, and raised an arm high. Burying his nose in his pit, he took a long, drawn-out whiff, savoring the jock musk that rolled off him in waves—raw, earthy, intoxicating. It was Clive’s scent, distilled and potent, and he inhaled again, deeper, letting it flood his lungs until his head spun. “Fuck, I love this body,” he rasped, Clive’s thick voice rumbling through his chest, a sound that vibrated with ownership. His hips bucked involuntarily, grinding against the bed, the friction sending sparks up his spine. He needed more—needed to feel this body break under his will.

He rolled onto his stomach, straddling the mattress, and began to hump it slow and deliberate. The sheets rubbed against his cock through the briefs, rough and teasing, as he thrust his hips, imagining every race Clive had run, every lover he’d fucked, every moment of this body’s life now his to relive. His breaths came in pants, hot and heavy, as he picked up the pace, grinding harder, the bed creaking beneath him. He lifted his ass high, thrusting into the air, muscles flexing—calves tight, thighs quivering, abs clenching—as he chased the edge. One hand gripped his hair, tugging at the wavy strands, while the other slid to his mustache, caressing it, feeling its bristles against his fingertips. His tongue lolled out, thicker and wet, licking at the air as if he could taste his own musk.

The pressure built, a molten coil in his gut, and he raised his arm again, shoving his face into his pit for one last, obscene sniff. The musk overwhelmed him, a primal trigger, and he lost it. With a guttural shout—“Fuck, yes! I’m Clive!”—he came, an explosive climax that tore through him. Jock semen erupted from his cock, thick ropes shooting out, splattering across his chest, the sheets, and—impossibly—arcing high enough to hit the ceiling in wet, dripping streaks. His body convulsed, hips jerking, as he rode the waves, smearing the mess across his abs with every shudder. The room reeked of cum and sweat, a shrine to his new identity, and he collapsed, panting, a grin splitting his face.

The door creaked open. His brother Ben and father Jared stood there, framed in the entrance, their faces frozen in shock and streaked with splatters of Clive’s cum. A dollop clung to Ben’s stubble, another dripped from Jared’s eyebrow. For a moment, silence hung heavy, then Ben swiped a finger through the mess on his cheek, bringing it to his lips. He licked it clean, slow and deliberate, a wicked smile curling his mouth. Jared followed, wiping the cum from his face and sucking it off his thumb, his eyes darkening with hunger. “Fuck, Clive,” Ben growled, voice thick with lust. “You’re a goddamn mess.”

They barged in, shedding clothes as they went—Ben’s basketball shorts hitting the floor, Jared’s sweatpants pooling at his ankles—revealing their muscular, sweat-slicked bodies. Clive, still sprawled on the bed, cock half-hard and glistening, didn’t resist. Ben dove first, pinning Clive’s wrists above his head, his tongue lapping at the cum on Clive’s chest, while Jared knelt between his legs, hairy coach frame looming as he took Clive’s cock into his mouth, sucking with a submissive fervor that belied his brash exterior. “My favorite son,” Jared mumbled around him, voice muffled, and Ben chuckled, nipping at Clive’s neck. “Favorite brother, too.”

Clive groaned, head tipping back, as they ravaged him—Ben’s hands roaming his pits, inhaling deeply, Jared’s throat working him with expert care. Round two stretched into a blur of flesh and moans, their twisted love consuming the room. Clive didn’t mind—couldn’t mind. This was the final ending he’d hoped for all along: The tome was gone, but Clive Armstrong was his, body and soul, and his family’s insatiable devotion sealed the deal. The bed creaked, the air stank of jock musk and cum, and as he came again, spilling into Jared’s eager mouth, he knew he’d never want for anything else.

[solarismoons]

Astronomy (Prologue)

‘It’s astronomy, we’re two worlds apart’

Wally Clark x fem!reader

Summary: After suffering a near-fatal fall off the school roof, you started seeing things that weren’t actually there. Or- people who weren’t actually there.

Warnings: mentions of suicide, addiction, lots of angst.

next chap.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your legs dangled off the roof, the moon's dim light illuminating the grass below. Tears filled your waterline and your eyebrows pulled together. Silent sobs filled the night air, getting lost in the whispers of the wind.

There was no sugarcoating it, no easy way to say it–Your life fucking sucked. Drunk of a Dad, your Mom out of the picture, the whole nine yards. If your life were a shitty low-budget movie, you and Nicole would’ve laughed at the lazy plot of it all.

Nicole.

The poison of her name ran through your veins and tore a hole through your heart. You’d grown up with her, she was there through your worst moments, and you were there for hers. But when you hit middle school, it wasn’t you and her against the world. It was always Maddie.

Maddie. Maddie. Maddie.

You truly had nothing against her. You had nothing against her, or Simon, or even Xavier of all fucking people. But everything in the past few years was always about her. The two of you were simply friends by extension. Two separate people pushed into the same friend group. But still, it seemed like the whole world revolved around her.

Nicole always had an obsession with Maddie. What she ate, what she wore, how she decorated her locker…Down to how she fucking spoke. Nicole copied every. Single. Part of her. You never knew if she wanted her, or if she wanted to be her. Whatever it was, it drew you two apart. You slowly started losing your best friend.

The pain and loneliness was beginning to be too much. You felt so suffocatingly alone, the only person you could confide in being lost in a la-la land of infatuation.

So, you found yourself on top of the school roof at 2 in the morning. It wasn’t high enough to die. Maybe high enough to make you hurt. High enough so someone would actually care for you. The thought of jumping crossed your mind- just for a split second. It was a fleeting thought, soaring quickly through your head like a turbojet.

Tears began to spill harder, gushing out of your eyes like a fountain. Your sobs became louder. You grounded the meat of your palms into your eyes, desperate to stop the tsunami from streaming down your face.

Behind you, words faded in and out of the breeze, and heavy whispers echoed across the silent roof.

“Is… she…”

“I….do- know…”

It was bits and pieces of phrases you shouldn’t have been hearing. Phrases that broke through the barrier of life and death itself. You didn’t know it at the time, though. Still, you whipped your head around, your lip quivering just slightly. Shadows faded in and out across the roof, the air seemingly moving in the wrong direction.

Your sobbing quickly died down, and you squinted, your head beginning to swim with confusion. The shadows shifted in and out of reality, almost. You would not have noticed them if you hadn’t been looking so meticulously.

The phantom-like whispers snuck closer as if reaching out for you. Your heart began to pick up speed, beating against your chest painfully. Breath hitching in your throat, you hastily stood up. Palms slick with sweat, goosebumps bursting across your skin, legs trembling, you yelled out, begging them to stop.

You couldn’t comprehend the gravity of your situation, couldn’t comprehend what the hell you were seeing. You took a step back, your heel hooking on the lip of the roof. Gravity took control, yanking you down over the edge.

The last thing you saw was a large hand stretching out towards you.

────────────

Wally loomed over you, his head tilted. Eyebrows knitted together with concern, he glanced over to Rhonda and Charley, who seemed oddly standoffish.

“Is… Is she okay?” He questioned.

Rhonda rolled her cherry lollipop against her cheek, “I don’t know Moose, maybe she’s just sleeping?”

Wally narrowed his eyes at her. Why couldn't she understand the urgency of the situation? Here was a girl, lying half-dead on school property with a puddle of blood pooling beneath her head.

“What if she dies?” Wally slid his hands into his pockets, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. His teeth sunk into the plush skin.

Charley frowned, wringing his hands together. “I mean… We can’t really do anything, Wally,” He reasoned. Wally knew he was right. If you died, you died. He couldn’t stop it. But it didn’t stop him from feeling any less awful. He felt… Drawn to you–in some incomprehensible way.

The group whipped their heads back down to you when you stirred. A soft groan escaped your lips. They watched with bated breath as you brought a shaky hand to the back of your head. You pulled your fingers back to your eye line, your pupils dilating at the smear of crimson.

The back of your skull throbbed with a searing, blinding pain that drew out another groan. You scrunched your eyelids together, fuzzy dots crowding your vision. At the same time, Wally crouched down next to you, fingers sprawled out on the soft grass.

Soft earth rustled beneath the soles of Rhonda’s boots as she turned on her heel. Charley glanced at you, then at Wally, then back at Rhonda. Confliction flashed across his soft features. As bad as he felt, there was nothing he could physically do.

“We should probably go,” Charley grumbled.

Still, Wally looked back down at you. He brought his fingers a feather’s touch away from your jaw before drawing them back. As much as he wanted to reach out to you, to help you, he couldn’t. He sat back on his haunches and took one last look at your pretty face.

Charley and Rhonda were halfway across the field when your eyes slowly cracked open. Wally’s eyes widened as you looked at him. Your eyes didn’t look through him. They looked at him. Your gaze pierced through the noise of the wind around you. It locked onto him with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn’t possible. You were living. Breathing. Your soul was still tied to the land of the living. You still had a fucking pulse, a heartbeat.

“What the fuck…” He whispered.

You don’t remember what happened next. Only that you scrambled up, despite the agony in your head and the strain in your bones, and found yourself at home just minutes later, shoes caked in mud.

You don’t know what the fuck you thought you saw. It was a hallucination. Your brain had conjured his image up, projected him in front of you. You fell off the roof, for fucks sake.

Still, your eyes glided over to a picture on the wall of your living room. In it, stood your dad and his high school best friend--Who died 40 years ago.