#quick turn flex circuits

[xpcblimited0]

https://x-pcb.hashnode.dev/accelerate-product-development-with-quick-turn-flex-circuits-from-xpcb?showSharer=true

Accelerate Product Development with Quick Turn Flex Circuits from XPCB

The primary advantage of XPCB’s quick turn flex circuits service is speed. XPCB can deliver prototypes in as little as 24 hours, drastically reducing development cycles and enabling rapid testing and iteration.

[bueckersworld]

DRINK N’ DANCE

SYNOPSIS: a party turns into something much more when paige finally confesses how badly she wants you—and proves it in the most unforgettable way.

WARNINGS: smut — mdni, strap-on sex, strap referred to as paige’s dick, teasing

WORD COUNT: 2.7k. RECOMMENDED SONG: drink n’ dance — future. info. masterlist. taglist.

────୨ৎ────

you weren’t supposed to stay this late.

the party was supposed to be just a quick drop-in—say hi to the team, nurse a drink, dip before midnight. but that was before paige showed up in a crisp white tee and low waisted loose black cargos, showing her stomach, a silver chain resting against her collarbone, jaw looking sharp enough to cut glass. she leaned against the kitchen counter like she was born there, forearms crossed, and you lost your whole damn train of thought the second your eyes found hers.

she wasn’t even doing anything. just sipping her drink, shoulders relaxed, watching people dance like she didn’t notice how they all kept sneaking glances at her. but she noticed you.

of course she did.

she always does.

you tried to play it cool. leaned into a friend’s joke. took another sip of your drink. but she pushed off the counter like gravity didn’t apply to her and walked straight up to you, pausing just close enough to smell like amber and something smoky. her eyes scanned you once—slow, hungry, unbothered.

“you came,” she said, like she hadn’t texted you three times to make sure.

you shrugged. “didn’t have anything better to do.”

her smile was lazy and a little cocky. “yeah? you wearing that for ‘nothing better to do’?”

you looked down at your dress—black, short, dangerously close to illegal—and fought the blush rising in your cheeks.

“maybe i knew you’d be here.”

that made her blink. just once. like you caught her off guard, which was rare. paige was usually all calm and smooth and unreadable, like the world could be burning and she’d still lick her lips and ask you what your problem was.

tonight, though, she let that smile grow just a little wider.

“good,” she murmured. “i was hoping.”

you didn’t respond. you couldn’t. your brain was already short-circuiting from the way her voice dropped, the way her fingers tapped against her glass like she was trying not to touch you.

she didn’t wear hats anymore. said she outgrew them. and honestly? you were glad. you liked seeing her waves the way they were now—messy, undone, framing her face with no effort. she didn’t need to hide behind anything. not with you.

“so,” she said after a beat. “you dancing tonight?”

you tilted your head. “are you?”

she stepped closer, eyes burning into yours like she already had the answer. “only if it’s with you.”

you should’ve said no. should’ve reminded her you were friends, best friends, and this wasn’t how things worked between you. but you didn’t.

instead, you took her hand and let her lead you to the middle of the room, lights dimmed, bass vibrating through your chest. you turned, backed into her, and felt her hands settle low on your hips like she’d been waiting for permission.

you started slow, swaying to the beat, the two of you pressed together in a way that couldn’t be blamed on the crowd. you felt her breath near your ear, steady and warm, as her fingers flexed slightly, gripping you tighter with every pulse of the bass.

neither of you said a word. didn’t need to. the tension was louder than any lyrics playing.

she was close. closer than friends ever got. her thigh brushed yours every time you shifted. her chest against your back made your heartbeat stutter, and when she moved in sync with you—slow, smooth, undeniably confident—you felt heat pool low in your stomach.

her mouth brushed your ear when she finally spoke. “you’re driving me crazy.”

you turned, just enough to see her face, lips parted, eyes half-lidded.

“you started it,” you whispered.

her jaw clenched, barely, like she was trying to keep control. “don’t tempt me.”

you stared at her, daring. “why not?”

she didn’t answer. just licked her lips and stepped back.

“i need air,” she muttered, and you followed without hesitation.

outside, it was quiet. cool. you leaned against the porch railing and tried to catch your breath, but paige stood beside you, fingers twitching like she was debating something dangerous.

“i’ve been drinking,” she said, voice low.

“me too.”

“i mean, i’m not drunk drunk, but…” she exhaled, looking away. “i say dumb shit when i’m tipsy.”

you tilted your head. “like what?”

she looked at you then. really looked. no jokes. no flirting.

“like how bad i wanna kiss you right now.”

your breath caught. your pulse jumped.

you waited—one heartbeat, then two. she didn’t move. didn’t lean in. just looked at you like the truth was finally too heavy to keep quiet.

“paige…”

she shook her head, stepping back. “forget it. i shouldn’t’ve said that.”

you reached out and caught her wrist. “no. don’t do that. don’t back off now.”

she froze, eyes darting to where your fingers curled around her skin.

“i’m not drunk,” you said. “and i don’t want to forget it.”

the silence stretched between you, thick and electric. then she leaned in slowly, eyes searching yours for doubt, hesitation, anything.

but you wanted this. you wanted her.

so when her lips brushed yours, you didn’t stop her.

the kiss was soft at first. careful. like she still wasn’t sure if she was allowed. but when your hands slid up her chest and you tugged gently at the collar of her shirt, something inside her snapped.

her hands gripped your hips again, tighter this time. she backed you against the porch railing and kissed you like she couldn’t hold back anymore. like she needed to get it all out before morning stole the courage from her mouth.

you moaned against her, soft and needy, and that only made her kiss you harder.

when you pulled back, lips swollen, chest heaving, she rested her forehead against yours and whispered, “come home with me.”

you didn’t even think.

you just nodded.

—

her apartment was dark, quiet, and way too clean for someone who was constantly traveling. you kicked off your heels while she locked the door, and by the time you turned around, she was already in front of you again—hands on your waist, lips on your neck.

she kissed like she played—aggressive, focused, confident. and you let her. let her press you into the wall. let her tug your dress up just enough to feel the heat of your skin against hers.

but somewhere between gasps and tangled fingers, she paused.

“you sure?” she whispered, eyes blown wide, breath hot against your collarbone.

you nodded. “so sure.”

she smiled, slow and wicked, then kissed you again—long and deep and delicious.

she didn’t rush. paige didn’t do rushing. she took her time undressing you, trailing kisses along your stomach, letting her hands explore like this was her first time touching something sacred.

and maybe to her, it was.

you stripped her down to her sports bra and boxers, fingers dragging over warm skin and tight muscle. she looked down at you like you were a dream she was afraid to wake up from.

“you’re so damn pretty,” she murmured, voice rasped and reverent.

you pulled her onto the bed and let her settle between your thighs, legs tangled, mouths moving slow and unhurried. her hand slipped under your thigh, lifting it higher, and you moaned into her mouth, unable to hold it back.

it wasn’t rough.

it wasn’t even messy.

it was intimate.

her chain dangled over your chest as she kissed down your neck, hips grinding into yours with delicious rhythm. her hand cupped your face after, brushing hair from your cheek.

“don’t disappear after this,” she said, barely audible.

“i won’t.”

“i mean it. i’m not doing this just to fuck around.”

“i know. neither am i.”

she kissed you again—slow, purposeful, like she might never get the chance again.

when she pulled away, her lips didn’t stray far. she traced a trail of kisses down your jaw, across your neck, lingering at your collarbone like she wanted to memorize the taste of you. your fingers tangled in her hair, sighs slipping out between your lips, soft and needy.

paige looked up with a smirk, that cocky glint in her eye back in full force. “worked up already, baby?” she murmured, voice low and thick, like velvet. like she wanted you to feel it more than hear it.

“paige…” you whimpered, embarrassed by the way your body reacted, her thigh snug between yours, pressed right against the soaked fabric of your panties. you were drenched—and it was just from kissing. god.

she leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “i got you, ma.”

then she pulled back.

you blinked as she disappeared toward her closet.

“where’re you going?” you asked, your voice small, breathless.

she didn’t answer.

not until she reappeared in the doorway, stepping forward with something in her hand.

click.

click.

your breath caught.

a strap. she strapped up for your first time.

holy fuck—she was irresistible.

she returned to you slow, like a predator savoring the moment, and ran her hands up your thighs, parting them with ease and pushing them up until your knees bent, completely vulnerable beneath her.

her fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs and tossing them aside without a word. then, with two fingers, she slid through your soaked folds, groaning low in her throat.

“jesus christ…” she muttered, her gaze dark, glued to the mess between your thighs. “you’re drippin’, baby.”

you whimpered when her thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that made your hips twitch. your hands reached out for her instinctively, grasping at her arms, her shoulders—anything to ground yourself.

she looked up at you like you were her prey, smirking through her lashes. and then, without warning, she sank two fingers inside you, deep and curling instantly to that spot that made you cry out.

“fuck—paige!”

“yeah…” she groaned. “i know, baby. i got you.”

a fucking tease.

she moved her fingers with purpose, scissoring you open, thumb working your clit in perfect rhythm. you could barely breathe.

“that feel good, ma?” she whispered, watching you fall apart, your body trembling under her.

you nodded frantically, lips parted, hair splayed across the pillow, eyes fluttering. “y-yeah, paige… fuck, yes…”

she grinned. “think you can take it, hm?” her voice dropped even lower, the strap nudging against your thigh now. “you want it?”

you whimpered, “yes. please—I can take it.”

her eyes lit up with something wicked. “good girl.”

she pulled her fingers out, sucking them clean with a groan like you were the sweetest thing she’d ever tasted. then she positioned herself between your legs, lifting them to rest your ankles on her shoulders.

one hand gripped your hip, the other guided the strap to your entrance.

“nice and slow, baby,” she murmured. “i got you.”

and then she pushed in.

you gasped, head tilting back against the pillows. the stretch had your thighs shaking, but paige didn’t rush. she moved slowly, watching every flicker of expression on your face, checking in without a single word.

“almost there,” she whispered, pushing in all the way with a slow roll of her hips. “c’mon, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?”

you whined. “f-fuck, paige…”

she began to move—gentle, steady, drawing her hips back and snapping them forward again with slow precision, letting you feel every inch.

it didn’t take long for the begging to start.

“paige, c’mon, please… need it, i—fuck, please…”

she didn’t even respond. just smirked and picked up her pace.

her thrusts grew sharper, deeper. your body rocked beneath her with every snap of her hips, your moans growing louder, more desperate, echoing around the room. “take that dick, cmon baby.” paige grunted.

“oh fuck—” you gasped, “just like that, don’t stop—please—”

“god damn…” paige grunted, watching herself disappear inside you with each thrust, the slick sounds between your legs making her lose it a little. “you hear that, baby? that’s all you. so fuckin’ wet for me…”

you nodded helplessly, back arching.

she leaned over you, her chain brushing your chest, her breath hot against your ear.

“tell me it’s mine,” she whispered, slamming into you harder. “tell me this pussy’s mine.”

“yes—fuck, paige—it’s yours! it’s all yours!” you cried out, babbling now, mind hazy, body burning. “only you—only ever you—”

“yeah,” she growled, kissing you fiercely. “that’s right, baby. mine.”

the kiss was messy—tongue and teeth and need. her hips didn’t let up, her thrusts brutal and deep, her thumb returning to your clit like she knew exactly how to push you over the edge.

your body shook, the pressure building, unbearable.

“paige—gonna—fuck, i’m gonna come—”

“do it,” she whispered against your lips. “come for me, baby. let go. c’mon, give it to me.”

that was all it took.

your orgasm hit like a wave crashing into the shore—violent, hot, blinding. you screamed her name, legs trembling, nails digging into her skin as your body convulsed beneath her.

she slowed her hips, gently thrusting through the aftershocks, kissing you sweetly on the cheek as you came down from it all.

“shhh,” she whispered, “i got you.”

when she finally pulled out, careful and slow, she removed the strap and disappeared into the bathroom.

she returned with a warm rag and the softest hands you’d ever felt, cleaning between your legs, your thighs, kissing your knee and murmuring sweet nothings the whole time.

you watched her through half-lidded eyes, heart still racing, skin still tingling.

such a fucking sweetheart.

so drunk in love.

so nasty when she wanted to be.

and all yours.

—

you woke up tangled in her arms, her chest rising and falling steady behind your back, the morning light sneaking through the blinds. her hand was splayed across your stomach, chain cool against your skin, breath soft against your shoulder.

you shifted slightly and felt her stir.

“mornin’,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

“morning.”

she pressed a lazy kiss behind your ear. “still here.”

you smiled. “told you i wouldn’t disappear.”

she pulled you closer, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“you’re mine now,” she said.

you turned your head slightly. “yeah?”

she nodded. “always wanted you. just never had the guts.”

“you were drunk,” you teased.

“nah,” she said, grinning. “i was just nasty.”

you laughed, then rolled to face her, brushing a hand through her curls.

“guess that makes two of us.”

and when she kissed you again, soft and slow, you knew it wasn’t just a one-night thing. it wasn’t lust. it wasn’t impulse.

it was her.

finally.

after all that waiting.

it was her.

and she was yours.

© bueckersworld

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ more paige smut, yum yum.

𝑤𝑖𝑡𝘩 𝘩𝑢𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑠٫ 𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑎..

taglist: @shikaizer @private-but-not-a-secret @paigebaby5 @raimund00 @bravemode @d1paigebueckersglazer @evanpeterstoe @zi0nnnn @jadasogay @fuddaround @jaylie-bee @everyonewatchesuconnwbb

[ericscroptop]

Kitchen

✧ pairing: bf! san x mid or plus-size/clubby gf! reader

✦ genre: smut

✧ warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), smut, p!rn without plot, unprotected sex (it’s inevitable atp), doggy style, creampie, size kink, body worship, cursing, praising, pet names, kissing, san is down right bad for you

✦ word count: 3.0k words

✧ synopsis: scrambled eggs? what about fertilized eggs, instead?

.ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･

Bacon sizzled as it cooked over the stove, emitting a salivating, savory-smoky aroma into the air.

You cooked it cautiously, maintaining a friendly distance away from the pan as the bacon grease was so volatile with the popping. A sour expression filled your face, fearful and anxious that the grease would splatter across you.

Whoever coined the phrase ‘women belong in the kitchen,’ is seriously wrong as hell.

An unease sat with you while you finished up, wanting to avoid burning yourself or getting attacked by the grease. You yelped as you flipped the strips, your hesitant hands using tongs to do so. Hopefully it’ll get as crispy as you liked within the next minute or so.

As if on cue, when you decide to plate your bacon and turn off the stove, San walks into the kitchen, making his presence known with a whistle and pleased hum.

“You making breakfast?” he folds his arms, idly standing a couple feet away from you like he’s observing the view you grace him with.

“I made breakfast. Come get it while it’s hot.” you took a quick glance at him, causing a flutter in your chest (and possibly even your lower region) when you see how he looks.

He decided to have an early morning workout instead of his usual nightly one, following it up with a shower. In the mean time, the motivation he had inspired you to get up and cook a nice breakfast instead of staying dozed off and drooling in bed.

The drooling might not be able to be prevented though, as you’re trying to keep your mouth from gaping at the sight of San’s Godly-being.

Although you’ve seen him shirtless countless of times— to the point where you don’t even think he’s aware that he owns clothes, it still makes you grow warm in the cheeks, mind threatening to have you replay memories with him that couldn’t possibly be shared with anyone else.

His broad shoulders stood out immensely, chest puffed out proud and muscles extra swole and prominent. The dampness of his hair post-shower further elevated his look, appearing straight out of a shampoo commercial.

San’s attractiveness overwhelmed your senses, short circuiting your focus. You had to snap yourself out of the fuzzy feelings he gave you just from a simple glance and from the sight of his toned, ripped body. Especially when that body had you caged under the covers just last night.

You quickly switched your attention back to arranging the bacon with the scrambled eggs, toast, and various berries you already platted.

“How was your work out and shower?” you cleared your throat, moving on from your gawking and dizzying thoughts.

San shuffled closer to you, leaning his lips over to press against your cheek while simultaneously sneaking a strip of bacon from one of the plates.

“Good.” he mumbles while chewing, humming and savoring the flavor of the pork before continuing on. “I hit chest today. Can you tell?” both of his arms are lifted out and upwards, flexing his biceps tightly.

He stands proudly, those damn biceps bulging out from his honey skin, proving that all of that time he spends with the gym equipment paid off.

His wide shoulders contrasted from his small waist, upper body deliciously intimidating yet comforting. His toned and muscular physique gave you a sense of tranquility knowing that he could protect you, but it also reminded you of the great stamina he possessed, especially during intimate hours.

And the fact that he had the power to manhandle you, having the backbone and robustness to handle the weight you carried. He always did it so effortlessly. Even with the excess fat you carried, he always made you feel so petite and delicate. It turned you on to the max and had you fuzzy all over at his ability to make you seem so small and like putty within his hold.

Naturally, you scoffed at him showing off. While your body screamed for him otherwise, you playfully shoved one of his flexing arms down, pushing past the mountain of a man as you ignore his efforts.

“What do you want to drink?” you asked casually, opening your refrigerator and scanning through the options.

“Chocolate milk.” he smiles through his words, tickled grin plastered over him as he watches you prepare the drink for him, grabbing the jug of milk from the fridge and getting a glass from the respective cabinet.

It’s always funny seeing you attempt at brushing off his flirting. Whether it be for not wanting to inflate his ego or merely because you didn’t know how to react out of timidness. It just charmed him even more, drawing him to get under your skin until you fully acknowledge him.

By now you’ve already started a completely new conversation, something casual that consisted of nothing too interesting. San mindlessly responded to you and offered words, but he really was only paying full attention towards your figure as you moved in the kitchen.

A flimsy pajama set clothed your body— well… at least tried to.

Despite the cutesy pattern that decorated the fabric of the sleepwear, it still managed to look sexy over your body. It was anything but innocent.

Such lightweight material was so skimpy on you. And because of your curves and body type, the clothing seemed to be extra small and barely doing anything to hide your full-figured frame.

Your bottoms consisted of shorts. Shorts that would hike up occasionally from your movements, your ass cheeks peeking out as a result.

The tank top you’re wearing also provoked him. It was one of those tops that had your mounds slipping out during your slumber and feeling a breeze once you awakened. The type of top that would end up bunched under your boobs, the material too lightweight and breasts too fleshy to stay put.

They bounced with every movement you made, as if trying to call to him. Like they’re begging to bust out the lousy, thin fabric, tantalizing him through your cleavage, hanging the way that they do and with the way you’d constantly adjust your top so they’d stay in place.

Your body moved gorgeously as you roamed the kitchen. The motion of your flesh and skin stole his attention, compelled to rake over your form while his mind drives through thoughts filled with perverted, pornographic images of things he’d like to do with you.

That sleepwear left plenty of room for imagination with how little it covered. His horny thoughts persisted even though he hummed and nodded along to words you were saying.

He was so good at multi tasking. Listening to you ramble about how cooking was not your forte with how the grease and pan came close to burning your delicate skin a handful of times.

As he cooed at you and offered you a look of pity, his hands were suddenly wrapped around your figure. His front was pressed up firmly against your backside, hugging your figure with so much greed and need.

Always so touchy, you think to yourself.

A smile stretches your lips, unable to contain the giddiness you feel when San holds you. His clingy behavior for being a grown man is amusing to watch, swelling your pride.

“Go sit down— i’ll be over there in a sec.” you giggled, trying to clean up the counter a bit before sitting down to finally enjoy your morning meal.

Your boyfriend chooses to not listen however, his chin lowered and planted into one of your shoulders, as if he’s trying to get comfortable and bury his face into your neck.

Simultaneously, his hands decide to search for warmth underneath your flowy tank, massaging the fat of your tummy. You quake from his sneaky touches, unable to fight off his hold.

“Babe!” you nagged, groaning when he playfully pinches at your love handles, almost in a possessive way.

“Why are so obsessed in doing that?” you sighed, letting his hands roam all over and paw at your belly.

You’ve grown accustomed to San playing with your excess skin and showing your body love through his sweet rubs and grabs. At first it felt embarrassing, but you eventually accepted that you were like a stress ball of some sort to him. This was not only his way of gaining comfort, but to also appreciate your ample body.

“‘Cause you’re so soft and tempting.” he breathes out before pressing his lips into the skin of your neck.

The compliment and plushy pecks spark warmth down south. Ultimately, the feeling of his soft lips caressing a sensitive spot and his strong embrace gave you no urgency or strength to fight.

“My girl is so beautiful. You know that? Hm.” he mumbles in between kisses and becomes extra playful with that mouth, fine bites felt in the midst of it all, making you airily moan at the feeling of his teeth mixed in.

“Mhm, you get me so horny, princess.” suddenly, his thumbs have found their way sneakily under your shorts and panties, playing with the waistband of them. That pulls more needy sounds out from you, along with subtle but noticeable buttings of your ass back into his crotch, turned on the more he continues with his antics.

“Sannie…” you squeaked, voice high and airy, sweetened with need for him to plunge your swelling hole.

He knows just by the way you call his name cutely and desperately that you’re begging for him to take you right here with no more delay.

It’s incredible how fast he can flip the switch in your brain, especially this early in the morning. But honestly, you were just as big of a feen for him as he was for you.

Breakfast was now the last thing on your minds right now. San directed his focus to pulling down your sleep shorts. You allow him to do so, body burning with desire as you step out of them and he flings them to the side.

The fat of your ass cheeks is exposed, the tiny thong you wear sucked in by your lady bits.

A low grown rumbles from your boyfriend when you tantalizingly throw your ass back at him, jiggling cheeks butting repeatedly at his growing bulge, far from innocent giggles leaving your mouth while you move.

Your behavior evokes him to give a good slap to your ass, making you gasp and cease your movements immediately.

“Baby wants to be fucked, hm?” he sneers, palms circling where he just smacked you soothingly, then working to remove your panties.

In a jiffy he removes that drenched thong of yours, flinging it lazily to the side with his foot once you’ve stepped out of it.

He finally pulls off his own bottoms with swift movement. Unable to resist going a second without touching you in doing so, he manages to press kisses into your lower back, savoring how your bare body stands graciously in his presence.

With his cock gripped in his dominant hand, his breath is already shaky just by going in and manhandling you to spread your legs. Once apart, he guides his cock over your sex, tickling your tensed hole by wagging his cock upwards and slapping it against you a few times.

The sensation makes you shudder, needy as ever and clenching over nothing, his cock so close to your spot but clearly not in yet. He’s teasing you back, your pussy painfully pulsing as he rubs his length against your moist folds.

“Sannie, please…” you’re desperate, gnawing on your lower lip and gripping the counter while he does a few more agonizing drags over your entire sex.

With a chuckle and hefty sigh, he listens to your begging and slots his leaking tip up your hole, him grunting and you yelping at the feeling. It never got old.

“Mhm… That’s it, princess. Shhh, take it all.” he cooed, eventually stuffing his entire length into your fluttering hole that gripped all of him ardently. He licks his lips and softly groans at that, in disbelief that no matter how many times he fucked you, you still remained as tight as the first time he was let in.

His hands attached to your hips, holding you tight as he begins to plow his manhood in and out of your hungry hole.

All you can do is try to catch your breath once he begins a steady pace. You quickly become struck and stupefied by his cock stroking your hot, gummy walls, palms sweaty as you do your best in holding onto the counter through every thrust.

Your body moves like water thanks to his insatiable efforts. The fat on your body jiggles like crazy, from your breasts, to your thighs, to your stomach. San’s grip on your hips loosens as he travels his hands to your love handles, kneading them with so much admiration, practically growling at how sexy your naked body feels.

He even ensures to make his rounds on your tummy, using a hand to hold onto your stomach pudge, keeping you closely against him while he fucks into you.

His cock caresses your walls, mingling with and lathering in your wetness that sops out your cunt during his out strokes, creating sounds that only quench his thirst for more.

One of his hands lands on your lower back, pressing gently for you to get the hint to lean forward. You comply, resting your upper body over the tabletop, ass more up in the air.

After a couple plunges into you like this, a sudden lusty, long moan spurts from you, an indicator that he’s located your sweet spot. He laughs airily knowing that he’s found your prized point.

“Fuckkkk, yes Sannie!” your throat rumbled, breath and any articulacy knocked right out of you.

The new angle allowed his cock to hit you deeper, your pussy eating up his meat and soaking every inch of it, hugging his length as he grants you divine sensations.

“So good for me.” he rasps, hitting your swollen cunt repeatedly, his fingertips sinking into the flesh of your hips as he chases for more feelings of ecstasy.

The indescribable pleasure lingers, growing gradually and never faltering. The moment is such a rush; Your back is arched like a cat, nails scratching the countertop while you’re trying to ground yourself from the feeling of your pussy getting stretched and the dizzying, addictive feeling as a result.

It’s disgustingly irresistible. His velvety, firm cock knocks your spongey spot, hitting you over and over again. Taking you in the kitchen isn’t anything new, as you two have practically christened ever inch of your home.

In the midst of being wound up like crazy, you turn your head back, mouth open as you pant heavily from getting your back blown out. San’s frenzied rams into you have slicked his skin with sweat, the exertion present on his face.

Through gritted teeth as he continues abusing your hole, you each lock eyes for a couple seconds.

Your face was wrecked with wide, heavy eyes full of lust, weak cries leaving your parted lips. He groans darkly when you look at him all disheveled and like you’re struggling to keep up, but still longing for more.

His soul feels captured and snatched by your eyes while you stare at him. You consume his entire being, craving you even though he’s already buried deep inside your pussy.

“So fucking pretty, God.” he utters breathlessly, bewitched by everything you possess. He’s the one working on tirelessly ramming into you until climax, but you’re the one who’s really doing all the work, your silky sex and body pulling the strings on him like a marionette.

Whipping your head back around, a hand of yours slides down towards your brutally-aching clit, beginning to rub yourself lazily.

Your jaw is slack, mouth wide and dry from how everything is hitting you all at once: San’s bulky body fucks you with all the stamina in the world on this kitchen counter. Grunts and sinful moans from each other joining in chorus. Naked bodies pressed together and moving in vulgarity. And touching your puffy bud in the midst of getting stretched by his golden manhood.

And then, you spill. You spill all over his cock, fluids and cum smothering his entire length while your whole body convulses, sweet pleasure hitting you like a truck.

You cry out as your orgasm crashes your body, mind, nerves, and limbs, falling apart from the overwhelming but joyous burst. All while San is still pushing into you, lowly moaning and coaxing you through his ragged breaths.

Your release pushes him to drive his cock harder, sweating profusely as he does so, your juices eventually being enough to form a white ring around his length, making him throb inside of you at the sight.

Weak whimpers and squeaks leave your mouth from the growing overstimulation, pussy so sore from the friction and your break. You push through while seeing stars, biting down on your lowed lip with dazed eyes drawn shut.

San allows himself to drape himself onto your back, his toned, broad body burning hot against your own soft, plush one. Pants and deep groans of his resonate by your ear, hearing him start to come undone.

You swear you expel more fluids as his hips are stuttering and jerking into you, his animalistic noises and mumbles of breathy words striking straight to your core, squeezing his cock dry.

Spurts of his cum fill you up. His body spasms over yours as he lets go, mind and body blissed-out as he lazily kisses your bare shoulder.

“So good. So perfect, princess.” he utters dreamily, reaching a hand up to stroke your hair, time feeling frozen as your eyes struggle to stay open. You can barely even sense the dripping of cum out your sex, dopey and drowsy— especially with San’s warm body against yours.

You can’t say the same for the breakfast you made though, now past cold. Forgotten, but your appetites have been satisfied nonetheless.

At least until San’s cock starts hardening again.

Or until someone’s belly starts to growl.

.ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･ .ೃ࿔☼*:･

[partoffantasy]

Playing Dirty - Liam Mairi

⸻ image credits to mybookishdoodles ⸻

summary: when their latest round of flirtation turns into something more, reader finds herself on the losing end for the first time. Because Liam isn’t just playing anymore. And when he finally makes his move, she realizes—maybe she never stood a chance to begin with.

pairing: liam mairi x fem!reader warnings: MDNI!, smut, swearing, unprotected p in v, oral (f & m) word count: 3.1k

⸻⸻⸻✦ ♡ ✦⸻⸻⸻

–Liam’s POV–

I am going to die. Not from battle. Not from a wyvern attack. Not even from the war. No. I am going to die because of her. Because Y/N just peeled off her shirt like it was nothing, revealing a tight black sports bra and an equally tight pair of shorts that should be illegal. I feel my brain short-circuit.

Every thought evaporates from my head, leaving only one very obvious fact: She is wearing that on purpose. And she knows exactly what she’s doing. I catch the way her lips quirk when she stretches, rolling out her shoulders, pretending she doesn’t notice the way half the damn training grounds are watching her.

I definitely notice. And so does everyone else.

Sawyer whistles under his breath. “Oh, she’s playing dirty today.” Ridoc snickers. “Wonder who she’s trying to kill.” “Me,” I say immediately. “The answer is me.” Violet, standing beside me, hums knowingly. “Well, it’s about time someone made a move.” I shoot her a look, but my attention snaps back to the mat as Y/N steps up to her opponent—another first-year I don’t recognize.

And then she smirks. Oh, fuck me. Because I know that smirk. That smirk means trouble. That smirk means she’s about to put on a show. And I should look away. I should not let myself get sucked into this game she’s playing. But then she moves. Quick, sharp, precise—like she’s dancing, like she was born for this.

She dodges her opponent’s first hit with ease, twisting gracefully, using her smaller size to her advantage. And then she strikes—landing a hit so fast the first-year doesn’t even see it coming. He stumbles back. She smiles sweetly. And gods help me, I am not okay. Sawyer nudges me. “You’re staring.” I don’t even deny it. “She’s doing this on purpose.” Rhi grins. “Of course she is.”

“She’s trying to get in my head,” I mutter, watching as Y/N dodges another attack, her body twisting in a way that is absolutely illegal. “She thinks she’s winning.” Ridoc snorts. “Well… she kinda is.” I shoot him a glare. “Not for long.”

Because two can play this game. And the second Instructor Emet calls my name, I don’t hesitate. I grab the back of my shirt and tug it over my head, dropping it to the mat before stepping forward, letting my shoulders roll loose, letting my muscles flex just enough.

I hear the sharp intake of breath behind me. And when I turn to face Y/N, her eyes are locked on my chest. I smirk. Got her. Her throat bobs. I raise a brow. “Something wrong, Y/N?” She blinks fast, clearing her throat, forcing her gaze up. “Not at all.” But her voice wobbles. 

–Y/N’s POV–

Oh, he thinks he’s so smart. Thinks he can one-up me. Thinks that just because he took his damn shirt off—and yes, okay, it’s annoyingly distracting—he has the upper hand. But what Liam doesn’t realize? I like a challenge.

Instructor Emet doesn’t waste time. “Cadets,” he calls, stepping back. “Begin.” And I don’t hesitate. I lunge first, aiming for his left side. He dodges. I spin, barely missing his grip, and twist—using the momentum to aim a sharp kick at his ribs.

He blocks me with his forearm, but his smile widens. “You’re fast,” he murmurs. I smirk. “You hesitated.” And then I strike again. We move like clockwork—fluid, sharp, precise. Attack. Block. Counter. Strike. It’s a deadly, dangerous dance, and neither of us are willing to give in. But the thing about Liam? He’s stronger.

And the second he catches my wrist, I know I’m in trouble. Because I might be fast, but he’s got sheer, unfair brute force on his side. He yanks me forward, using my own momentum against me, spinning me midair before pinning me flat against the mat.

And suddenly—He’s everywhere. His chest pressing into mine, his breath warm against my cheek, his fingers tight around my wrists. I freeze. Because fuck. Because he’s really close. Because his pupils are blown wide and his golden-retriever face is looking far too pleased with himself.

“Pinned you,” he murmurs, way too smug. I swallow hard. “You think you’ve won.” His grip tightens. “Haven’t I?” Oh, hell no. He’s playing dirty. So I do, too. I shift beneath him—arching just enough, pressing against the solid weight of him, letting my breath hitch just slightly. His whole body tenses. His jaw locks.

And I see it—the brief flicker of panic in his eyes, the moment he realizes that he might have just played himself. I smirk. “Not quite,” I whisper. And then I flip him.

He grunts as his back hits the mat, and before he can react, I’m on top of him, straddling his waist, pinning his wrists to the ground. His eyes go wild. “Oh,” he breathes. Just that. Just oh.

Like he finally understands.

Like he finally sees me.

Like he finally realizes that this game we’re playing? Neither of us are winning.

Because we’re both already gone.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

The second classes end, I don’t hesitate. Liam is still talking to Ridoc about something utterly irrelevant—something about lunch, maybe? I don’t care. Because I have one goal.

I grab his wrist, fingers wrapping tight, and yank. “Whoa—Y/N?” His voice is confused, but his feet follow without hesitation. I don’t stop until we’re behind the massive stone statue near the edge of the courtyard—tucked away from prying eyes, away from everyone.

Alone.

The moment we’re in the shadows, I turn, my back hitting the cold stone, Liam right there in front of me, confused but very interested. “What are you—” “I’m tired of this game,” I cut him off, my voice low, breath coming fast.

His expression shifts—just slightly. His head tilts, watching me closely. He’s amused. That should infuriate me. Instead, it makes my stomach tighten. “Oh?” His voice is soft, teasing. “What game, exactly?”

Infuriating.

I step closer, closing the space between us, looking up at him through my lashes. He’s so tall, so broad, his shoulders blocking out the light. “The one we’ve been playing all day,” I whisper-shout at him, getting angry.

I see it—the flicker in his eyes, the moment my words hit. But then he does something I don’t expect. He laughs. Soft. Low. And then, in one slow movement, he steps closer. And closer.

Until I’m fully pinned against the statue, his hands braced on either side of me, caging me in.

Until I have nowhere to go.

Until his mouth is just at my ear, his breath warm against my skin.

“Y/N,” he murmurs, his voice lower, rougher than I’ve ever heard it. “Stop calling this a game, you know it isn’t.” My breath catches. Oh, fuck. My heartbeat slams against my ribs. I refuse to break eye contact, but my fingers betray me—curling slightly, gripping his bicep just a little too tight.

He notices. And he smiles. A slow, knowing, dangerous smile. “Here’s the thing, baby,” he murmurs, his fingers brushing just barely over my hip. “I see you. I see right through you. You act like you’re in control. Like you’re the one calling the shots.” His fingers tighten slightly. “But that’s not what you really want, is it?”

I don’t react. I can’t. Because he’s right. He knows he’s right. And fuck, that should scare me. But all it does is set me on fire. I open my mouth, but he’s already there—tilting my chin just slightly with his fingers, making me look at him.

“You need someone who isn’t afraid to take control,” he continues, his voice like gravel and heat. “Someone who doesn’t let you push them around. Someone who knows exactly what you need and isn’t afraid to give it to you.”

I suck in a sharp breath. His thumb brushes my lower lip, just barely. And then he pulls back. Just enough to make me feel the distance. Just enough to make me ache. Then he smirks. “Are you going to finally give in, Y/N?” I stop myself to think. Because if we start—We won’t stop.

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Liam pulls me into his room, the door falling softly behind us, the sound of the lock clicking in place. The air between us crackles with anticipation. Before I can even process it, he presses me against the wall with a force that leaves me breathless, his lips crashing onto mine in a searing kiss. His hands grip my sides, pulling me closer, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. I tangle my fingers in his soft blonde hair, tugging at the strands as if grounding myself in the sensation of him.

His lips move from my mouth to my neck, trailing hot, wet kisses along my sensitive skin. My head falls back, instinctively giving him more access, and I shiver, feeling his warmth spread through me. His breath is ragged against my throat, and when he sucks gently on the skin there, a quiet moan escapes my lips. His grin is audible as he murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve been waiting to hear that.”

The sound of his voice makes my pulse spike, and the desire that has been simmering between us finally erupts into something urgent. I pull back slightly to look at him, my eyes locking onto his as I tug his shirt off. The moment his chest is exposed, the dim moonlight catches on the sculpted lines of his body, the muscles flexing under his smooth skin. My hands trace the ridges of his abs, traveling lower, grazing the waistband of his pants, and then finally dipping to the v-line that dips below. My breath catches in my throat as I look up at him, and his eyes are burning with something almost dangerous.

“You’re perfect,” I breathe out, my voice low and full of need.

Liam’s hands travel down my body, undoing the buttons of my shirt with an ease that speaks to how well he knows me. As the fabric slides off my shoulders, I stand before him in nothing but a delicate lace bra, my skin flushed and my heart pounding in anticipation. His eyes drop to my chest, his gaze dark and hungry, and I can’t stop the flush that blooms in my cheeks.

“You’re fucking stunning,” he mutters before his lips crash back onto mine in a kiss that leaves me breathless. I respond, hungry for more, my hands slipping to his belt, undoing it slowly, teasingly, my fingers brushing against the hardness I can feel through his pants. He groans into my mouth, and I smile against his lips as I slide down to my knees before him, feeling the heat of his body against mine.

I look up at him, his body towering above me, and my hands work swiftly to undo his pants. I hear the rustle of fabric, and then he’s free, his cock already thick and hard. I bite my lip, unable to suppress the smirk that tugs at the corner of my mouth.

“Someone’s eager,” I tease, my voice breathy with desire.

Liam’s breath hitches, his hands threading through my hair, pulling me closer. I look up at him one last time before I lean forward, brushing my lips over the tip of his cock. The taste of him is divine, and I slide my tongue along the length of him, savoring the salty, intoxicating flavor.

His hands tighten in my hair, guiding me slowly, and I take him deeper, inch by inch, until I can feel him at the back of my throat. My mouth moves with precision, hollowing my cheeks as I take him in completely, every inch of him filling me. Liam’s breathing becomes ragged as he watches me, his eyes dark and stormy.

“Gods, Y/N,” he groans, his hips thrusting slightly, urging me to take more. I hum in approval, the vibration causing him to shudder beneath my touch. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good.”

I hollow my cheeks, sucking him in deeper, my hand gripping his thick thighs as I let myself fall into the rhythm, sucking and licking in time with his movements. I can feel the tension building between us, the heat intensifying as I take him deeper, pushing him to the back of my throat.

“Fuck,” he curses, and the sound of his voice is raw with need. “I can’t hold back much longer.”

He pulls me off him, and I gasp for air, my lips swollen from the intensity. Without missing a beat, he pulls me up, capturing my lips in a kiss that tastes like fire. He moves with purpose, his hands guiding me onto the bed. His lips travel down my neck, his breath warm against my skin. He’s moving with a controlled urgency, as if he’s trying to savor every moment of this.

He pauses, his eyes darkening as he looks at me with that intense, commanding gaze. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, his hands slipping to the waistband of my panties. In one swift motion, he pulls them off, throwing them aside. He looks down at me, his eyes hungry, and I feel a thrill of anticipation rush through me.

“Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss the swell of my breasts. His lips tease along the lace of my bra, and I arch into him, desperate for more. My hands slide into his hair, tugging him closer, urging him on.

Without warning, his lips trail lower, and he places a soft kiss on my stomach before continuing downward. My breath catches as he reaches my inner thighs, his breath warm against my skin. I squirm beneath him, and he chuckles darkly, the sound making me ache with need.

Then, finally, he’s there, his tongue sweeping over my most sensitive part. A gasp escapes my lips, and I feel my body tremble at the sheer sensation of his mouth on me. He’s slow at first, his tongue exploring, teasing, before he presses harder, his lips suckling gently. I can feel the tension building inside me, a knot coiling tight as his fingers slip inside, stretching me as he works me open.

“Liam, please,” I whisper, my body arching into his touch.

He responds with a low groan, his fingers moving faster, harder, as his tongue works in rhythm with his hands. I can feel myself unraveling, the pleasure building to an unbearable height. “Cum for me, baby,” he urges, his voice a breathless command.

That’s all it takes. My body shudders as I reach the peak, and I scream his name, the force of my orgasm taking me completely. Liam doesn’t stop, continuing to stroke me through my release, his fingers pumping slowly, drawing out every last tremor.

When I finally collapse back onto the bed, panting and spent, he moves up beside me, kissing my forehead before trailing his lips down to my neck. His breath is ragged, and I can feel his heart racing as his hands roam over my body, grounding me back in the moment.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing me softly as he brushes his thumb over my lips. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come apart for me.”

I smile up at him, hazy with pleasure, my body still tingling from the aftershocks of my release. I run my finger along his jawline, tracing the lines of his face as I catch my breath.

But there’s no time to recover. He’s not done yet, and as he pulls me closer, I feel his cock pressing against my thigh, hard and ready once more. “You good?”, he asks, looking at me with those big blue eyes. My body responds to him instinctively, nodding and craving more of him.

He pushes my legs apart, settling between them as his tongue tangles with mine in a deep, hungry kiss. I feel the heat of him at my entrance, the weight of him pressing against me before he enters with a single, powerful thrust.

"Oh, fuck!" I cry out, my nails digging into his back, leaving crimson marks that I can’t bring myself to care about. He grins at me, eyes dark with desire.

"I couldn’t hold back," he murmurs, his breath ragged as he pulls out slowly before pushing back in, inch by inch.

I moan in response, my body aching for more. "Faster, please."

He obliges, his thrusts becoming relentless, the sound of our bodies colliding filling the room. The rhythm of it—raw, urgent—has me gasping for air, my legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, pulling him deeper. My hands rake over his back, leaving trails of fire in their wake as he kisses my neck.

But I push him away, a spark of something wild igniting within me. I twist, flipping us so that I’m on top. He smirks up at me, his hands settling on my waist, gripping hard. I move my hair from my face, letting it fall over my back as I use my hands to steady myself, planting them on his abs.

This position drives him deeper, and I’m sensitive, every inch of him sending waves of pleasure through me. "Fuck, you look like a goddess, Y/N," Liam moans, his voice strained, and he helps guide my movements with his hands.

I move faster, hips circling, driving him wild. His moans, raw and primal, spur me on. "That’s so good," he groans.

After a few minutes of blissful, unrelenting rhythm, he flips us again.

"Get on your knees, head down," he orders, voice thick with need. I bite my lip and obey, shivering with anticipation.

His thrusts come from behind, a new angle that has us both gasping. The intensity of it makes me push back, meeting each thrust with frantic urgency. His hands find my arms, guiding them to my back, holding me still as he presses my face into the pillow.

The scent of him—warm, familiar, intoxicating—fills my senses, and then his hand lands on my ass, a sharp slap that has me gasping, a strangled moan escaping my throat. It’s so damn sexy, I can’t help but cry out louder.

He drives into me, relentless, and the pressure builds—faster, stronger—until I’m teetering on the edge.

"Can you come for me, baby?" Liam groans, his hips faltering for just a moment.

"Yes, gods, Liam!" I moan, feeling the waves crash over me as my orgasm hits, intense and overwhelming. Moments later, he follows, his hips stuttering as he spills into me, the weight of his release pushing me over the edge again.

For a moment, we both lie still, breathless, before he gently pulls out and falls back onto the cushions beside me. He takes a deep breath, his body still trembling with aftershocks. I move toward him, resting my head on his chest as he wraps his arms around me, pulling me closer, his bare skin warm against mine.

“That was fucking incredible,” he mutters, his lips brushing my temple.

I smile against him, my eyes fluttering closed. “It was. So, so good.”

[http-shield]

you offering?- bucky barnes unhinged!avenger reader x bucky

a/n: this was the first draft of smash (in a loving way) which is why some lines are the same.

Moving day swiftly degenerated into chaos as more and more boxes were unloaded from the truck. Theoretically, Steve and Bucky should not have that many possessions, seeing as neither of them had lived very long lives in the new century; however, as box after box is carried in, you realise you couldn't be further off base.

Steve shouts down the hall, alerting you of their arrival (having smacked headfirst into you with a box full of record hours earlier, you had developed the system of very loudly announcing yourselves before walking into narrow spaces). You turn to the hallway, ready to semi-jokingly tell Steve off for all the free labour he had managed to squeeze of you, but your brain short circuits as Bucky walks in. The long-sleeved shirt had turned up in has long since been discarded. Instead, he is sporting a black tank top showcasing a stunning display of his muscled arms and shoulders. Unable to look away, you follow the veins along muscled forearms, sweat glistening in the afternoon sun, vibranium fingers humming as they glide over the tops of the box, his hair pulled back in a bun sitting low at the nape of his neck and those godforsaken strands that hang over his eyes leave you thinking about the way they would feel brushing over your thighs.

"You're drooling." You jump, startled by Steve's amused whisper, as he stands behind you, cast iron pot in his hands.

"Ha.Ha." The retort is weak, mind too preoccupied with thoughts of your friend to conjure a coherent sentence.

"Seriously. You gotta bit'a...." Steve wipes the side of his mouth with his thumb, smirk growing as he continues to tease.

"You need to get outta here before I punch you in the face." you whirl on him, warning through clenched teeth. "I will fight you, old man."

He backs away, raising his hands in defeat. "Kids these days, can't take a joke."

-----

An Ikea flatpack sits on the floor of the living room. The name and instructions unreadable as the three of your stare a the unbuilt couch frame.

"You bought a box?" Bucky turns to Steve, brows raised as he gestures to the floor.

"It's a sofa, Buck. We just need to build it." the former sighs, crouching down to examine the slip of paper it came with. "We just need to learn Swedish."

Bucky follows suit and squats, grumbling something about knowing 30 languages but unable to put together a stupid piece of furniture.

You debate joining them, adding a new brain to the equation, but as if it were your turn to take that single cell passed between the three of you, you reach for your laptop and begin your search.

30 minutes later, the frame is complete. The cushions, however, are nowhere to be found.

"Did you not order them?" you ask, eyes still trained on the screen as the two super soldiers stare at the incomplete project.

"I didn't know I was meant to!" Steve is quick to defend his mistake. "If you buy the couch, it comes with it."

It's not a completely irrational thought. It's common sense really. You buy a couch it must come with cushions, so why didn't this one?

Bucky sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "So we have one bed and couch frame? Where am I meant to sleep, Steve?"

"You can sleep with me." You mumble as you scroll through ikea website, searching for the accompanying pillows.

"Is that you offering?" Bucky asks, and for a second, you are confused by the question, but as you look up from the screen, you find both men staring at you. Ah, the super hearing caused by the super serum. Super.

"Offering what?" you play dumb, biting down on the tip of your thumb, hoping he can't hear your heart slamming in your chest.

"Just thought you were offerin' to have me sleep with you but I guess I heard wrong." Bucky smirks and shrugs. "Guess ill have to take all this " he begins to flex, making an obvious show of his muscles. "and sleep on the floor."

You bite down on your finger in a futile attempt to hide the smile that is forming. "Guess so."

Bucky frowns, sad, wide puppy eyes staring at you. "Come on, doll. Don't make me beg."

Heat flashes through you and your heart picks up speed again. "You can beg for it, Barnes, doesn't mean I'll let ya' " your voice shakes a little, but you can hide it behind a smug chuckle.

Bucky's tongue darts out to wet his lips as he begins to retort but Steve's cough stops you both. The Captain's face is crinkled in disgust as he stares.

"Could you save this till I'm not in the room?"

[gracie-eilish]

jock!billie x nerdy!reader fluff please? like billie finds her and her glasses absolutely adorable, i dont know, whatever you want it to be lol

bambi eyes✨👀

The night air was brutal, the kind that sank into your bones no matter how many layers you wore. You were curled up in your sweater, book resting in your lap, your glasses perched on your nose as you tried to focus on the words in front of you. But, honestly? You hadn’t gotten past the same paragraph in the last ten minutes.

Because Billie was down on the field.

And she looked so good.

It wasn’t fair, really. The way she moved—so confident, so effortlessly strong—it made your stomach do embarrassing little flips. Every time she sprinted across the field, her muscles flexing beneath the stadium lights, your face burned hotter than the sun. The sweat glistening on her skin, the way her damp hair stuck to her forehead, the pure athleticism of it all—God, you were smitten.

You tried—really tried—to keep your eyes on your book, but every few seconds, your gaze betrayed you, drifting back to where Billie was effortlessly working through her drills.

And the worst part? She knew you were watching.

Every now and then, she’d glance up at you, catching you in the act. She’d smirk—that smirk, the one that made your knees weak—and suddenly, reading was impossible.

You were still fighting to regain some semblance of composure when she finally jogged over for a water break. But instead of staying on the sidelines, she turned and started climbing the bleachers straight toward you.

Your heart stopped.

You quickly buried your nose in your book, desperate to look like you weren’t just ogling her like a lovesick fool.

“Hey, bookworm,” Billie greeted, her voice warm and teasing as she plopped down beside you.

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet her gaze. Big mistake. Big. Huge.

Her cheeks were flushed from exertion, her hair damp, the collar of her jersey slightly stretched—she looked so good, it was almost unfair.

“Hi, superstar,” you mumbled, barely managing to sound normal.

Billie’s grin widened as she pressed her ice-cold water bottle to your cheek.

You squeaked, jerking away with a dramatic shiver. “Billie!”

She laughed, eyes twinkling. “What? You looked like you needed cooling off.”

You huffed, glaring at her. “I’m freezing, actually.”

Billie smirked, glancing down at your oversized sweater and the blanket wrapped around your legs. “Yeah, I can tell. You’re all bundled up like a little marshmallow.”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s cold out here.”

“And yet, here you are.” Billie nudged you playfully. “You’re still reading the same page by the way,” she pointed out, amused.

Your face burned. “I—I got distracted.”

Billie’s smirk widened. “Yeah? By what?”

You groaned, burying your face in your book. “Nothing.”

Billie chuckled, reaching up to adjust your glasses with infuriating gentleness. “These make your big ol’ Bambi eyes even bigger.”

You let out a weak whimper. “Billie.”

She grinned. “What? It’s cute.”

You hid further in your book, utterly defenseless against her charm.

Then she frowned, her gaze softening as she looked you over. “You’re shivering.”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“You should’ve said something.” She grabbed her letterman jacket off the bench and draped it over your shoulders before you could protest.

Oh. Oh, no.

Her jacket was warm, heavy with the lingering heat from her body. And the scent—her scent—wrapped around you instantly, all perfume and Billie and safe.

Your brain promptly short-circuited.

“I—uh—” You swallowed, eyes wide as you clutched the fabric. “You—don’t you need this?”

She smirked. “I’m sweating, baby. You’re the one turning into a popsicle.”

You curled deeper into the jacket, trying to hide the way your face was definitely giving you away. “Thanks,” you mumbled.

Billie’s smirk softened. “Aww, you shy now?”

You groaned. “Stop.”

She laughed, leaning in to press a quick, very distracting kiss to your burning cheek. “Never.”

You melted. Absolutely melted.

And Billie knew it.

She just smirked, leaning down and pressing another, warm kiss to your other cheek before pulling back. “Wear it for the rest of practice, yeah? I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

You barely managed a nod, completely wrecked by her casual affection.

Billie just grinned and jogged back down to the field, and you—still wrapped in her jacket, her scent, her warmth—realized something tragic.

You were never going to recover from this girl.

✨

By the time Billie finished, your brain was still half-mush from the way she’d completely flustered you. But she wasn’t done with you yet.

She practically beamed when she saw you still bundled up in her jacket. “Well, well, looks like my little marshmallow got very comfortable.”

You huffed, refusing to make eye contact. “It’s warm.”

She smirked. “It’s mine.”

You groaned. “Billie—”

She laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as she led you down the bleachers. “C’mon, I’m getting you hot cocoa.”

Your heart squeezed. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” she interrupted, nudging you. “Besides, it’s cute watching you try not to combust every time I flirt with you.”

You whined.

She just grinned, pressing another quick kiss to your temple. “Let’s go, Bambi.”

Fifteen minutes later, you were tucked into a cozy booth at a little café, hands wrapped around a steaming mug of hot cocoa.

Billie watched you with a soft smile, chin resting on her palm. “Better?”

You nodded, taking a careful sip. “Mhm.”

She smirked. “So. Was it worth it?”

You frowned. “What?”

“Freezing your cute little butt off for two hours,” she teased. “Or did the hot cocoa not make up for it?”

You rolled your eyes. “You are my girlfriend. I like watching you play.”

Her eyes twinkled. “Even when it’s cold?”

You sighed dramatically. “Even when it’s cold.”

She smirked. “And even when—”

You flicked her forehead. “Billie.”

She laughed, reaching across the table to take your hand in hers. “I just like hearing you say it.”

You squeezed her hand. “I’ll always be there for you, B.”

Her smile softened, her fingers lacing through yours. “Yeah,” she murmured, brushing her thumb over your knuckles. “I know.”

And in that moment, wrapped up in her jacket, her warmth, her love—you knew, without a doubt, you always would be.

[unsuperingyournatural]

working it out

Pedro Pascal x Actress!Female!Reader / Jensen Ackles x Actress!Female!Reader <platonic>

implied smut

saw the arms on Kimmel, the mention of Reed's ability to stretch, the tshirt, the glasses, the smile... wasn't about to let all of that go without some form of acknowledgement

The gym smells like metal and effort—rubber mats, faint deodorant, and a low hum of pop music on the speakers. You step inside just as Jensen drops into a set of heavy rope slams, sweat beading on his temple and darkening the front of his shirt. His trainer shouts something encouraging over the pounding rhythm, and Jensen powers through like the stubborn show-off he is.

You don’t wait for the session to wrap.

“Nice face,” you call out with a grin as you approach.

Jensen glances up, already grinning through a grimace. “Nice timing.” He drops the ropes, breathing heavy. “Thought you were showing up after this torture.”

“Changed my mind. Figured I’d get a workout in and watch you suffer. Y’know, as support.”

He laughs and pulls you into a one-armed hug, careful not to sweat-slap you. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet,” you say, stepping back with a wink, “you invited me.”

Jensen rolls his eyes and gestures to his trainer. “I’ve got another half hour. Try not to cause too much trouble.”

You toss a salute. “No promises.”

You head toward the stretching area, sliding into a lunge as you cast a subtle glance back. Jensen’s back at it, focused, unaware of the small crowd that’s clearly watching him—not that you can blame them. Guy’s got his Soldier Boy arms on full display. You shake your head with a smirk and start into your warm-up.

After a few minutes, you climb onto a treadmill, setting an easy pace. Your gaze lazily scans the gym floor while you fall into rhythm—and then it stops.

Your brain lags a full second.

Pedro Pascal.

In a fitted workout shirt, working with a trainer a few feet away. He’s squatting with a barbell, sweat trailing down his temple, salt-and-pepper curls damp. His expression is focused, his arms flexing, jaw tight with effort. He looks unfairly good—like some kind of mythological thirst trap, all arms and smolder.

Your mouth goes dry.

Other people are watching him too. One woman nearly drops her water bottle. Another blatantly stares like she’s trying to memorize the moment. You snap your gaze back to your treadmill screen and mentally scream at yourself to focus. You wouldn’t want someone staring while you work out. Still, your eyes flicker back. Just to check. Just to—

He meets your gaze as he suddenly passes by. Smiles. Says, "Hi."

“H-Hi,” you stammer, breath catching.

Pedro grins—quick, charming, boyish—and keeps walking past with his trainer, but he knows.

Every time you steal a glance afterward, he catches you. Sometimes smirking, sometimes just amused. Once, he winks.

You’re toast.

You power through your weight circuit, trying to ignore the heat simmering beneath your skin. But every time you look up, he’s there. Closer. On the same row of machines now. Shirt clinging to him in all the right ways. You shift uncomfortably, your pulse racing with something that has nothing to do with exertion.

After the fifth caught glance and a smirk that nearly melts you, you can’t take it anymore. You step off the machine slowly, casually, and head toward the hallway that leads to the restrooms, leaving your towel and water bottle behind. Just a short break. Totally innocent.

You glance up once at the mirrored wall. Pedro says something to his trainer. Gets a nod. Then he follows.

Your pulse hammers in your throat. You round the corner into the dimly lit hallway and pause. The light is softer here, shadows stretched long. No one can see you from the floor.

“Hey.”

You turn.

Pedro’s there, his curls slightly mussed, eyes lit with something dangerous and amused.

“Hey,” you say, your voice a little breathless. A smile curls your lips. “You following me, Pascal?”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, stepping closer. “Did you mean to leave that towel behind, or were you just trying to bait me?”

You raise a brow. “You’re the one who winked first.”

“Guilty,” he says with a grin—and you grab the front of his shirt.

You kiss him hard, heat surging between you instantly. He kisses you back with just as much fire, walking you backward with slow, steady steps until your back hits the bathroom door. You fumble with the handle, managing to get it open, and you both spill inside in a blur of lips and hands.

The lock clicks. His hands are already sliding down your sides, gripping your hips like he’s been waiting all day.

“I’m all sweaty,” he murmurs against your jaw, voice thick and low.

“Don’t care,” you breathe, already backing into the counter as he pushes forward.

You don’t waste time stripping. There’s no time. No safety net. Just urgency and the knowledge that someone could walk by if you're too loud, too slow, too reckless.

Pedro’s hands find your waist, your hips, and he lifts you just enough to sit you on the counter. You wrap your legs around him, pulling him close as his mouth claims yours again. His fingers slip beneath your waistband just enough, finding skin. Your own hands tug at the hem of his shirt but don’t lift it—there’s no need. Just access. Just friction.

It’s fast. It has to be. Clothes pushed aside but still mostly on, like a secret barely contained. Like heat sealed under pressure.

And when it happens, it’s all sensation—grit and breath and stifled moans against skin. He keeps a hand over your mouth for just a moment, just to muffle you, and you let him, trusting him. Needing him.

After, your forehead rests against his, both of you catching your breath. Your heart is still racing—not just from the heat, but from the weight of how deeply you feel this, how much he affects you with just a look, a touch. You’re still tangled, his hands still splayed on your waist, your thighs around him like you’re not ready to let go. In this tiny space, with the world held at bay, you feel safe—like you can breathe again.

Pedro nuzzles your temple and breathes out a low, “Gonna tell my trainer I don’t need cardio today.”

You snort a laugh, chest still heaving.

Once all of your clothes are properly rearrange, he watches you in the mirror as you adjust your ponytail, something warm and soft in his gaze. You catch it. Blush. Focus on washing your hands instead.

“Marvel workout?” you ask, bumping his hip playfully.

He nods, squeezing a bit of soap into his palm. “Gotta look good next to all the Hemsworths.”

You grin. “You already do.”

Pedro glances over, and you swear his eyes flicker with something tender before he looks down to rinse his hands.

“Always come to this gym?”

“Someone mentioned it in passing,” he says, voice casual but teasing. “Figured I’d check it out.”

You smirk.

He dries his hands with the paper towel you offer him. “You have plans after this?”

“Yeah. Jensen and I are grabbing a bite. Catching up.”

Pedro nods slowly, then tilts his head. “So you’ll be free for dinner later, then?”

You give him a slow smile. “Maybe. If you promise to shower.”

Pedro laughs. “Didn’t seem to bother you five minutes ago.”

You playfully roll your eyes.

He grins and tosses the paper towel, then steps in again, fingers brushing your hip gently as he pulls you into a much softer kiss. His lips are warm and slow, reverent almost.

“Missed you this morning,” he murmurs against your lips.

“I had to run for that meeting with my agent,” you reply, arms draped over his shoulders.

You linger for a moment, reluctant to pull away. Then you sigh.

“We should head back.”

Pedro nods, though his hands tighten slightly at your waist. “Promise I’ll see you later?”

You lean up and kiss him once more. “Promise.”

You nudge him toward the door, grinning. He hesitates, then finally slips out, acting casual as he heads back to the floor.

You wait a minute or two. Check your reflection one last time.

Then you head back out.

Pedro is back with his trainer, all business, like nothing happened. But when he turns mid-set and catches your eye, he flashes a knowing smile.

“Hey,” Jensen’s voice cuts through. You turn to find him standing by your towel, still in his gym clothes, towel slung around his neck and sweat glistening along his brow.

He nods toward the far side of the gym. “Pretty sure that’s Pedro Pascal over there.”

You follow his gaze. Pedro is back at his routine, expression dialed in, focused on his trainer’s cues like nothing else in the room exists.

You keep your voice casual. “Really? Huh. Didn’t even notice.”

Jensen snorts. “Funny. I’ve been coming to this gym for three weeks now and this is the first time I’ve seen him. My trainer mentioned something about him calling up this morning and requesting a session asap—but for around this time frame.”

You shrug, blowing it off with a light laugh. “Maybe he’s just feeling motivated today.”

“Mmhm.” Jensen narrows his eyes playfully. “Weird coincidence, though.”

You lift your brows and throw him a teasing grin. “What, you jealous he’s stealing your spotlight?”

That gets him. He huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. “Please. I’ve got way better form.”

You grab your water bottle and sling your towel over your shoulder.

“You good?” he asks when you don't banter back, raising an eyebrow.

“Great,” you say with a chipper smile that makes him squint at you suspiciously.

“You look flushed.”

“I just worked out.”

“Mmhm.”

You bump his shoulder with yours and he snorts.

“Alright, I’m hitting the showers. Fifteen and we’re out?”

“Yep. Please. For everyone’s sake.”

He laughs and snaps his towel at you playfully before heading to the locker room.

You glance back. Pedro is still working out, still watching you.

He winks.

You smile.

A little later, in the locker room after your own shower, you check your phone. A message from Jensen: Waiting near the front.

But it’s the one from Pedro that makes you grin:

I'm exhausted. Two workouts in one day. You’re cooking tonight. Don’t care if it kills me.

You shake your head, tuck your phone away, and close your locker. For a moment, you just stand there—hand still on the metal door, breath slowing. The buzz of post-workout endorphins fades into something gentler, deeper. You think about the way Pedro looked at you in the mirror, like there was no one else in the world. Like you mattered in a way that went far beyond the rush of stolen kisses and whispered jokes. Your heart feels full. It’s been months of this—late-night texts, secret meetups, moments stolen between schedules. Just yours and his, kept quiet from the world, kept safe. You haven’t told anyone yet, not even Jensen. There’s something sacred about keeping it to yourselves—about the privacy, the intimacy, the way it’s grown quietly like roots under soil.

No cameras. No eyes. Just the promise of a messy dinner, shared laughs, and quiet moments with the man whose gaze settles you like gravity, steady and warm, no matter how fast the world spins.

[kevenchi]

all mine / abby anderson — cw : sexual content, usage of cannabis, strap usage, sneaky link dynamics. “told me your new man don’t make you nut, that’s a damn shame.”

the room was hazy, thick with the sweet, earthy scent of weed curling up from the joint perched between your fingers. you took a slow drag, letting the smoke roll in your lungs before exhaling with a lazy sigh. the vibe was chill—low lights, some rnb humming from your speaker—but your mood? that was a whole-ass mess.

“this sneaky link shit gettin’ old,” you muttered, passing the joint to abby, who was sprawled out on the couch beside you. her broad shoulders flexed as she reached for it, her tank top riding up just enough to show off that stupidly toned stomach. she smirked, taking a hit, her lips wrapping around the paper like she was about to say something smart.

“what’s the problem? he still trash?” abby asked, blowing out a plume of smoke. her voice was low, gravelly, and it hit you somewhere deep, even through the fog of the high.

you groaned, flopping back against the cushions. “bro, trash is an understatement. dude hits me up at two am like he’s bouta change my life, but he can’t even get me there. i’m out here fakin’ it just to get him out the door.”

abby chuckled, shaking her head as she ashed the joint into the tray on the coffee table. “that’s fuckin’ weak. you deserve better than some half-assed sneaky link who don’t know what he’s doin’.”

“my point exactly,” you mumbled, staring up at the ceiling. the weed had you floating, your body warm and loose, but there was still this itch under your skin—unmet, unsatisfied. you side-eyed abby, her freckled face glowing under the dim light, and something reckless sparked in your chest. “bet you could do better.”

she froze mid-drag, her blue eyes snapping to yours. for a second, the air got thick, like the smoke had turned solid. then she grinned, slow and dangerous. “you tryn’ find out, ma?”

your heart did a little flip, but you played it cool, smirking back. “maybe i am. whatchu’ working with?”

abby didn’t say shit for a minute, just handed you the joint and stood up, all 5’10” of her towering over you like a damn wall of muscle. “hold that thought,” she said, disappearing into her room. you took another hit, the buzz making your head swim, wondering what the hell you’d just kicked off.

when she came back, your jaw damn near hit the floor.

she had a harness strapped up, the black silicone jutting out like she’d been ready for this moment. the sight of her—confidence dripping, biceps flexing as she adjusted the straps—had you clenching your thighs together.

“jesus, abs,” you breathed, passing the joint back. “you keep that shit on deck?”

she laughed, plopping back onto the couch, closer this time, her knee brushing yours. “gotta stay prepared, pretty. you not the first to underestimate me.” she took a hit, then leaned in, her lips hovering near yours as she exhaled, letting you shotgun the smoke. it was hot, messy, and your brain short-circuited.

“fuck it,” you whispered, grabbing the back of her neck and pulling her into a kiss. her lips were soft but firm, tasting like weed and something faintly sweet, and she didn’t waste time. her hands were on you quick—gripping your hips, tugging you onto her lap so you were straddling the strap.

“shit, you’re pretty as fuck, mama,” she muttered against your mouth, her hands sliding under your shirt, rough fingertips grazing your skin. you moaned, grinding down on the silicone, the pressure hitting just right through your shorts.

“less talkin’, more doing, abs.” you shot back, tugging her tank top over her head. her chest was all muscle, freckles dusting her collarbone, and you couldn’t help but lean down to kiss along it, tasting salt and smoke. she groaned, one hand tangling in your hair as the other guided your hips.

“bet,” she said, flipping you onto your back with ease, pinning you to the couch. the joint was long forgotten now, smoldering in the tray as she yanked your shorts and panties off in one smooth move. you were soaked already, and she clocked it, smirking like she’d just won the lottery.

“damn, baby, you needed this?” she teased, dragging the tip of the strap through your folds, slow and deliberate. you arched up, whining, the weed amplifying every touch like your nerves were on blast.

“stop playin’ abby,” you hissed, and that was all she needed. she pushed in, slow at first, letting you adjust to the stretch, but once you started rocking your hips, she picked up the pace. the sound of skin on skin filled the room, mixed with your gasps and her low grunts.

“fuck, you take it so good,” she growled, one hand bracing on the couch, the other gripping your thigh to spread you wider. she was hitting deep, every thrust rocking you to your core, and the high had you seeing stars—literal sparks behind your eyelids.

“abs—shit, i’m close,” you managed, clawing at her back, leaving red lines she’d probably flex about later. she leaned down, lips brushing your ear.

“then let go, mama. i got you,” she rasped, slamming into you harder, and that was it. you came undone, loud and shameless, your whole body shaking as she fucked you through it. she didn’t stop til’ you were whimpering, over sensitive, and boneless beneath her.

when she finally pulled out, you were a mess—sweaty, panting, still buzzing from the weed and the best orgasm you’d had in months. abby flopped beside you, grinning like a smug asshole as she lit the joint again.

“told you i’d fuck you better,” she said, passing it over.

you took a shaky drag, laughing through the smoke. “yeah, yeah, you win. sneaky link.”

she just winked, and you knew damn well this wasn’t gonna be a one-time thing.

maggiesglock ©

[mwahbabe]

More Chloe breeding??? Yes. Like right now plz -J

pairing: chloe price x fem!reader

mdni, smut, breeding kink, dom!chloe, sub!reader, tribbing!!!, talk about pregnancy&starting a family, multiple orgasms, creampies :)

a/n: hi. <3

“hey baby?”

"yeah?" chloe said, her attention focused on the tv, but still completely listening and aware of you as she held you close to herself, her arm wrapped snugly around your shoulders, her thumb gently rubbing over your arm.

“if you had a dick would you get me pregnant?”

you were half joking, expecting a “babe what the fuck?” or something along the lines of “uh dude we’re both girls” from her. but noo. no no no. her reaction had your stomach flipping, suddenly unbelievably turned on.

“oh hell yeah. i’d knock you up so damn fast.”

you gasp with a smile, as if she had just given you the biggest compliment in the world, “oh my god babe you mean it?”

"fuck yeah, i mean it." she said with a little smirk as she pulled you closer to herself, her arm wrapped around your torso, "i’d fill you to the brim every day."

“oh well fuck.”

she laughed softly, her hand rubbing over your belly gently, as if there was a little bun in there. her eyes locked on your face as she got a bit more serious. "i’m not kidding, though. i’d fill you up and stuff you full."

you swore you felt your body short circuit. “to the brim?”

“to the fuckin brim hotstuff.”

“get you all nice and big with my baby."

you cannot stop smiling, butterflies all through your stomach and pussy. “how many?”

“at least three. maybe five.”

“as long as i’m naming those babies.” “yeah, yeah, yeah.” she said with a massive smirk, loving how you were so on board with her. “as long as you're carrying my babies, you get to do whatever the hell you want.”

and that’s how this started.

chloe didn’t need to really do a lot to get you in the mood or up and running, just a whiff of her scent, which was a mix of her deodorant, hair dye and shampoo, weed, the smell of outside, and her natural musk she carried, and the way she looked at you with that predatory look in her eyes. it was a stark contrast with the way she would always look at you with those blue puppy dog eyes, while she was eating your out or just in german. she was a sookie. completely smitten for you, her beautiful girl.

“fuck.. oh fuck. love this pussy you know?” chloe had you spread under her, atop her bed she hadn’t bothered making up. as she grinded down on you, both of you completely naked, your slick pussies kissing sloppily, dripping arousal all over both of your thighs and the sheets, her words so vulgar and full of need. she was face to face chest to chest with you, this look was good on her, hair messy, her eyes all blown out, her shoulders and arms flexing as she held your leg up, brows furrowed in focus, completely focused on you and getting both of you off.

“hah.. ah.. fuck– need to fill you baby, so bad. gonna carry my kids huh?”

you moan loudly at that sentence alone, “yeah.. oh god chloe… need it so bad.”

“uh huh.. i know.. take it.. i know you can.. yeah?”

she thrusted her hips into yours in short hard thrusts as she punctuated her sentence. “fuck! yeah baby..” you wrapped your arms around her, holding her tightly, not wanting to let go for even a second.

there was no stopping her when she got like this, and you would never. she was in her own world with you and your perfect cunt, your engorged clit stimulating hers, her clit was throbbing, her brain was numb and only wanting to cum over and over and make sure it got inside you, each time she came she held you tight locking you in with her arms, creaming on your overstimulated pussy at the same time you came, her teeth gritted and her eyes shut tight as she whimpered with each clench of her cunt.

your eyes were dazed, jaw slack as she kept going after a quick check over of you, then getting right back in, her arms above your head, her armpit in your face, the musky smell of her was so addicting, it awakened something in you that made you want to bite her. “chloe.. ah fuck..i love you.”

her movements faltered for a second, the sentimental words striking that chord inside her that you always knew how to find. “fuckin love you too babe.. shit.. can’t get enough, gotta fill this pussy.”

“yes yes..” you grip her back tighter, digging your nails in, “you want a boy or girl?” she asked rhetorically, knowing you couldn’t think, “doesn’t matter, i’m giving you both.”

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Victory tension

Heyy guys, I hope you enjoy this Max x reader x George one-shot. I had a lot of fun writing it, and I hope you enjoy it too.

If you want to read more stories of mine here's my general masterlist.

The moment I stepped out of the car, the roar of the crowd was deafening. The pit lane was a blur of orange, silver, and navy as engineers and mechanics swarmed their drivers. But I didn’t care. I had done it — I had crossed the finish line first. My first win of the season, and I had snatched it out of the hands of the two most relentless drivers on the grid: Max Verstappen and George Russell.

The cool-down room was quiet in comparison, a stark contrast to the chaos outside. I took a bottle of water from the table and flopped onto the white leather couch, still buzzing from adrenaline. My fireproofs clung to my skin, damp with sweat, but I didn’t care. I was grinning like an idiot.

Max came in next, tossing his gloves onto the bench and muttering under his breath. George followed close behind, his jaw tight, the disappointment radiating off him in waves. The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

I sipped my water, watching them from the corner of my eye. They were trying to ignore each other, but the way George rolled his shoulders and Max flexed his fingers told me everything. The replay was about to start on the big TV screen in the corner, and I knew exactly what part of the race it would show.

And there it was.

Lap 47. The battle between Max and George had been intense — wheel to wheel, corner to corner, neither of them giving an inch. They nearly touched three times in one sector. But while they were busy fighting each other like their lives depended on it, I had found the perfect opportunity. I’d stayed just close enough to slipstream and, with a late brake down the inside of both of them into Turn 9, I flew past. Clean. Efficient. Ruthless.

The room went silent for a beat.

Then Max scoffed. “Nice racing, George. You defend like you're trying to win a karting trophy.”

George turned slowly, his eyes narrow. “Excuse me? You were the one dive-bombing into corners like a lunatic. If anyone lost us the lead, it was you.”

“Oh, please,” Max snapped, stepping forward. “I wasn’t the one blocking like it was a game of bumper cars.”

“You just can’t handle someone not moving out of your way for once.”

They were fully facing each other now, the trophy-shaped table between them barely acting as a barrier. Voices rising. Arms flailing. Max’s face was flushed red; George’s jaw was clenched so hard I could see the muscle twitching.

I leaned back on the couch, sighing through my nose.

“Boys…” I muttered. “Shut up.”

Neither of them heard me.

“Seriously,” I said louder, sitting up now. “You’re both acting like—”

But they were too far gone, lost in their own heated standoff, throwing accusations like punches.

That’s it, I thought. Drastic measures.

Without standing fully, I grabbed Max by the fireproof collar and pulled him toward me. His eyes widened just a second before I pressed my lips to his in a firm, no-nonsense kiss. It was quick, but strong enough to completely derail him.

I let go and turned to George, who hadn’t even processed what he’d just seen. His mouth was open, eyes darting between me and Max like a malfunctioning robot. I reached out, hooked a finger under his chin, and kissed him too. His lips were soft and still from the shock, but I felt the way he froze and melted at the same time.

When I pulled back, I leaned into the couch again, finally smiling. “Finally, some peace.”

The silence in the room was… glorious.

Max was standing there, his hand touching his mouth like he was trying to make sense of what just happened. His cheeks were red, a very un-Max-like blush creeping up to his ears.

George looked stunned. Utterly speechless. He ran a hand through his already messy hair and blinked like I had short-circuited his brain.

I took another sip of water.

“You two seriously need to learn how to share,” I said with a teasing grin.

Neither of them said anything, still processing. The screen above us was looping the same overtaking clip again and again, but now it felt like ancient history.

Max cleared his throat finally, voice lower. “You can’t just… do that.”

I tilted my head. “Seemed to work.”

George opened his mouth, closed it, then finally said, “You kissed both of us.”

“Yes,” I said cheerfully. “And you both shut up. Effective strategy.”

Max sat down slowly on the bench across from me, his eyes still fixed on me like he couldn’t decide whether to argue or do something much worse. George joined him, still dazed.

We sat like that for a while. Max trying to act composed, George stealing glances, and me, basking in the glorious, awkward silence I had created.

Outside, the fans were still screaming. Inside, there was only the quiet hum of the air conditioning and the sounds of two very confused men trying to figure out what the hell had just happened.

And me?

I just smiled.

Peace had never tasted sweeter.

[quokkaholic]

Stop With The Noises y.j

Warnings:MDNI, gym buddy to ?, Sassy!I.N, cringy gym lingo, vanity lol, LOTS of body and appearance discussion, protected p in v, exhibitionism lite, cussing, duh. Lightly edited

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

“See you at the gym tonight?”

You and Jeongin have been working out together pretty consistently for a few months now. Having both started hitting the gym more seriously around the same time, you both happened to complain to the same mutual friend that you needed a gym buddy, and they linked you and Jeongin up. You never spend time with him outside of the gym besides occasional group events, but usually work out together at least once or twice a week. Despite that, you and him have gotten pretty close; exercising is a pretty vulnerable activity. You regularly see each other gross after workouts. You witness each other's failures, often followed by consolation from the other. You also get to be there for highs like setting new maxs and reaching goals while literally shouting words of encouragement. It can be quite emotional. 

After you get off work, you go to meet Jeongin at your usual time. He always rents out a private gym space. It was a little awkward at first, but you've come to enjoy the privacy. Upon arriving up to the room, you see he's already there warming up. 

Sometimes you guys talk about your days or even open up about stuff we can’t talk about with people too involved in your lives, but most of the time you either put music on a speaker or your headphones and essentially just engage in body doubling with little chats if you are resting at the same time. While getting in a quick stretch, you discuss your circuits so as to not end up needing a machine at the same time.

Now that you proved to yourself that you’re committed to this lifestyle change, you’ve allowed yourself to invest in some workout sets as opposed to your typical shorts and old t-shirt. Today is your first time wearing one while working out with Jeongin, and you think he noticed as he's avoiding looking your way for too long, even as you go over your plans. In the past, you’ve caught him blushing when you ask him to spot you or to evaluate your form. He’s always so kind and sometimes even overly respectful. 

Today is the day in your current regimen that you up the weight. Everything is feeling a bit more taxing, and you can’t help but grunt through some reps.

“Y/nn! Shut up!” you hear him shout exasperatedly over your music. When you turn to face him, he is trying to maintain a look of annoyance, but he can’t fight back his playful smile. Even though it seems like he’s just messing with you, you try to keep it down for the rest of your set replacing them with hissing breaths. You move on to some more core targeted exercises, and once you’re done, you can’t help but check out your toning form in the floor to ceiling mirrors along the wall. You think you possibly are starting to gain some definition. Seeing physical evidence of all your hard work is so fulfilling and exciting; you want to share your accomplishments. 

“Innie check out the pump” you call for his attention as you pull down hem of your high waisted bottoms a bit to show off your torso and flex for him. When he turns to look, his hand instantly flies to cover his eyes.

“Y/n! You can’t do that!” he scolds.

“What the hell do you mean? You show me your gains all the time!” you ask, trying to return his accusatory tone, the laughter is bubbling through your words.

“That's different!” he tries to justify. 

“Only in the sense that it's you and not me!”

“Exactly!” he says and turns back to finish his set. What a prick? Jeongin lets out his impudence occasionally, often leading you guys into having prolonged jestful arguments. You smile to yourself before putting your headphone back over both of your ears returning to your work out. Starting to get into a groove, music blaring, you feel the reps are coming easier, but before you get the opportunity to ride the wave of new found strength, a rag is propelled into your back. Jeongin’s face and ears are bright red like he’d been running; you thought he wasn’t doing cardio today. Before you can ask what the hell he's doing, Jeongin says in an unexpectedly serious tone.

“I’m being so for real right now, you have to stop with the noises.” Although it was subconscious, you still defend yourself.

“Innie you know it helps! You do it too!” you again point out his hypocrisy. He doesn’t even continue the debate, just turns to his machine and dismisses you with a wave over his shoulder.

Your final exercise is an overhead press. Standing in front of the mirror you watch your form as you start raising your dumbbells. You're so fucking tired, but you have to at least attempt to finish strong. Trying so hard not to make noise, you end up scrunching your eyes and again try taking explosive breaths, but it's not enough. It's your final rep, and as you reach the peak of the lift you can’t help but let a prolonged groan out.

Your eyes shoot open when you realize what you’ve done. You look for Jeongin in the mirror trying not to draw attention to your actions in case he didn’t notice. Jeongin is a few feet behind you in a trance, his own dumbbells fallen to his side, a lump in the front of his shorts he's not even trying to conceal, eyes glued to your back. Once he notices you’ve stopped moving, his eyes shoot up to yours in the mirror. You drop the weights with a little less control than is probably safe and turn to him. Like magnets, you are drawn together knowing exactly what is about to happen. 

Meeting in center of the room, your lips immediately collide. He is too worked up to keep it respectful; his kisses are sloppy and betray his growing hunger for you. You break apart for a minute for you to riffle through your purse for a condom. He ensures the door is locked and sits on a weight bench, waiting to pull you onto his lap to continue your heated kiss. He attempts to do the full nine yards with foreplay, but you urge him to take you. The post exercise high and Jeongin’s palpable desire have your body aching for him already. Even though the threat of being caught is practically nonexistent, the prospect is also aiding your arousal. The swirling of your hips has him groaning into your neck.

“You have to stop with the noises. You’ll get us caught” you tease him and he just groans louder in response causing you to once again cover his mouth with yours. He shifts parallel to the bench so your legs are on either side, and you can feel him shuffling his pants down. You stand for a moment to make it easier for him and also remove one leg form you bottoms but just pull you panties to the side. When you straddle him you roll the condom on causing him to do a little shiver. He has one hand on your ass and the other on his cock aiming it and hissing as he guides you down onto him. Looking down at Jeogin, damp with sweat and hair pushed back out of his face, his eyes screwed shut just as you were earlier trying to stay quiet drives you insane.

You are surprisingly able you ride for a while despite the muscle fatigue; you even draw out your own orgasm grinding down into him as he gives attention to your neck and shoulders, but your thighs can only take so much. You reposition so you have both hands and a knee on the bench so you can both admire in the mirror as you finish one after the other.

“Fuck, we look so hot!”

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆ ☆ ★ ✮

A.n- thank for reading 🤭

-mo

Masterlist

[munsonsmixtapes]

Omg I have a Boone request if you’re taking any! reader is a new team member and has a crush on him but he’s so standoffish towards her cuz he also has a crush but he just like shuts down around her. Maybe she ends up confessing cuz she wants to get it over with and it ends w smut where he’s a little more subby 👀 also if you can add something where he like helps her into the truck or just does something w his arms in general 😂 I’ve been obsessing over his arms since the rocket scene 💀

I am absolutely taking Boone requests! Let's give him the respect he deserves!

sub!Boone x dom!fem!reader

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) hurt/comfort

You were nothing but excited when you had gotten the DM from Tyler. He had seen your videos on YouTube. He loved your work and approach to storm chasing that he knew he had to ask you to join the team. Everyone had been excited for your arrival. Well, everyone except Boone.

Well, not at first. At first, he had actually been super on board, looking forward to someone new. But then you showed up on the scene in your short shorts and the man was done for. You were smart and pretty? That was definitely a lethal combination.

And then you reached your hand out for him to shake and it was soft and warm and he immediately wondered what it would have felt in other places. It was as if you were trying to kill him with the bright smile on your face as you introduced yourself. His knees were weak and he didn't like how he was so close to swooning.

And the thing about Boone was that he was not a fan of love. Well, for other people, it was great, but for him? Forget it. He had been burned once and that was enough to swear off romance altogether. He would sleep with countless people, but immediately put it to a stop as soon as feelings were involved.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He choked his feelings down and began treating you like you were gum on the bottom of his shoe. You'd try to speak to him and he'd just turn the radio up louder or just flat out ignore you. And he felt like a dick for it. You were just being friendly and he completely shut you down.

And what made it worse was when you watched him laugh and joke around with the others, only further proving that he didn't like you even though everyone tried to convince you that it wasn't true. Boone was really just a teddy bear and you were wondering if maybe you had just caught him on a bad day.

But the fact was, Boone just didn't like you. Had even convinced himself of that, in fact. He didn't like how Tyler let you take over without asking for anyone else's approval. You hadn't even been there a year and you were already allowed to take the reigns? Hell, not even Boone was allowed to do that and he was Tyler's right hand for gods sake.

And the worst part of all was when you took his spot in the truck, the front seat now occupied by your ass that he couldn't stop staring at. And it was even worse when your perfume would linger on the interior, that sweet, smoky smell that wrapped around him like a blanket. It was intoxicating and he could just imagine pulling you to him, burying his face into your neck and having a whiff for himself.

"You should tell him," Tyler whispered as you found yourself staring at Boone who had been at the gas pump for the last few minutes. Watching him and the way his arms would flex as he worked made your brain short circuit.

You wanted them to wrap around you tightly as his lips crashed to yours, the thing quick and sloppy, taking his time with you as you were pliant under his touch. You wanted to feel his mustache scrape against your upper lip, making the skin red from how roughly it was moving against it.

"Tell him what?" You asked, finally pulling your gaze from the man to look at your friend who was next to you, leaning against the truck.

"That you like him," Tyler replied in a tone that supposed to make the whole thing obvious. You just laughed in response. You did not like Boone. If anything, you just wanted to fuck him to get him out of your head.

"I don't like him."

"Right, then why were you staring at him like you wanted to climb him like a tree?"

"If anyone needs to admit their feelings, it's you. When are you going to tell Kate?" You looked over your shoulder at the girl who was laughing with Javi and Tyler paused, completely caught off guard by your question.

"This-this isn't about me," he stuttered. "This is about you and Boone and your obvious feeling for each other." You laughed again, wondering where the hell he was getting that from. Boone had made it very obvious that he didn't like you so you didn't know why Tyler kept insisting that it was true.

"Okay, one, I don't see how this is any of your business, and two, I don't like him and he certainly doesn't like me. So let's drop it, okay?" You were now getting frustrated, though you didn't know why. Well, maybe you did know and just didn't want to admit it.

The truth was, you had been crushing on Boone from the very beginning and had honestly thought you had been subtle until Tyler had called you out. Because it was embarrassing admitting that you liked someone who so obviously hated you. You didn't know why, but you actually kind of found it to be attractive.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n," Tyler winked as he nudged your shoulder and opened the passenger side door for you and helped you into the seat just in time for Boone to see.

He finished up with the gas then hurried to get in the truck before it drove off. He was forced to sit in the middle between Lily and Javi. And by some stroke of luck, he looked up just in time to see you pulling down the visor to look in the mirror. You then pulled some lip gloss from your purse, catching Boone’s gaze in the reflection. You made eye contact with him as you swiped the gloss over your lips so slowly, torturing him as his mind was reeling with places where he wanted to leave marks with the brown color.

His mouth went dry, the simple action driving him crazy. You had only done it to see if Tyler was right and now you had the man right where you wanted him, not missing how he had rested his hands in his laps, desperate to cover his cock that was threatening to tent in his pants.

As you tried to sleep that night, all you could think about was Boone. You always tried to push him out of your thoughts, but this time, you let him stay, living absolutely rent free there. Your thoughts were nothing but filthy as you imagined the two of you between the sheets of your bed, in every position possible. And the sounds…the sounds. They were enough to make you orgasm right there. They sounded so real and vivid and all you could hear was your name being uttered through moans and gasps as you took exactly what you wanted from him.

The next morning was rough as you hadn’t gotten any sleep. You had spent most of the night either with your hand down your underwear or staring at Boone’s phone number, trying to get yourself to text him and ask him to come over. You eventually settled for pleasuring yourself and found that even though it had satisfied you, that it was nothing like the real thing.

You watched a truck pull into your driveway and your eyebrows furrowed as Boone got out of the driver’s seat before leaning against the door, looking like he would have rather been anywhere but there. You were really going to have to talk to Tyler since you knew that Boone being your ride had to have been his doing.

You took your sweet time putting on your shoes before fleeing the house, making sure to lock the door before heading over to the truck. The ride hadn’t even started yet and you were already dreading it. Why couldn’t Tyler just leave it alone? Why was he trying so hard to prove that you and Boone had feelings for each other?

Boon was quick to move to your side of the truck and he opened the door for you before holding his hand out for you to take. You just blinked at him, staring down at his hand completely dumbfounded.

“I want to help,” he said, his tone sugary sweet which was not what you were used to hearing. In fact, you were sure that was the most he had ever said to you in the months that you had been working together.

“Oh,” you replied, eyes wide as you slowly put your hand in his before he helped you into the truck, trying to not stare at his arm as it flexed, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was so easy to get distracted by him.

You were so distracted by his muscles that you hadn’t been aware that he was staring at your ass and the way your shorts were hugging it. If he had any more confidence, he would have given it a squeeze, wanting to hear your little yelp as he did so. He wanted to stick his hand into your back pockets as he kissed you senseless, cupping your ass as you pushed him against the side of the truck.

“Thank you,” you smiled at him and he almost didn’t hear you, letting his dirty thoughts get in the way.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled back and once you were in the seat, he closed the door and rounded the front of the truck, muttering to himself about how much of an idiot he was. If he hadn’t been so stuck on treating you like shit, maybe the two of you would have been together. But of course he had gone and fucked up any chance of that.

Boone climbed into the driver’s seat and put the keys in the ignition before putting the truck in reverse, his hand landing on the back of your head rest as he did so. He then brought it to sit on the center console and you stared at it for a second, trying to figure out if you wanted to hold it or have it wrapped around your throat.

You then turned to look at him as he hummed along the song that was playing softly through the speakers, letting his free hand tap to the beat on the center console. Maybe Tyler was right. Maybe you did like Boone and were just pushing your feelings down so you didn’t have to deal with being rejected.

Considering that the man was consuming your every thought, there was no way that you didn’t like him. In fact, you were beginning to think that you were falling in love with him despite his hatred towards you. And why couldn’t you get the hint? He didn’t like you.

“You have a pretty smile,” you told him before you really thought about what you were saying. And you felt your cheeks heat as you looked down at your hands that were sitting in your lap. You were now embarrassed that you had spoken at all, let alone complimented him.

“I what?” He asked. Boone had heard you just fine, but wanted you to say it again just to make sure that his ears weren’t playing a cruel trick on him.

“I said that you had a pretty smile,” you repeated, your voice louder, more confident, and Boone felt his own cheeks blush at your compliment. “It’s no wonder you don’t do it often because I feel like I would do blind from how bright it is.”

“Jesus, y/n, you’re making me blush,” he replied, his tone nothing but humorous, but he wasn’t joking. His cheeks were warm and he was hoping that you couldn’t see the pink color that was tinting his skin.

“Aww, I really am,” you teased as you reached over and pinched the cheek that was closest to you, causing him to blush even more. He was getting really embarrassed and almost wanted to ask you to stop, but he loved the way your skin felt against his.

You pulled your hand away sooner than he would have liked and silence fell between you again. Good. He was beginning to think that you were getting a little too chummy with him. He didn’t want to be your friend. As much as he convinced himself he wanted to be nothing to you, he had to eventually come to terms with the fact that he wanted to be your boyfriend.

He wanted to be your boyfriend so fucking bad that it hurt. But of course, he had to go and fuck that all up for himself. And you were too nice, still treating him with respect even though it was obvious that he was hurting you. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve you. He thought the whole thing would have been easier if you would have just given him the same energy back. Then maybe it wouldn’t have been so easy for him to fall in love with you. With your laugh, with the way that you would always bring everyone coffee you had bought on the way to Tyler’s house where you all usually met before a storm chase.

Because deep down, Boone was his own worst enemy and didn’t think he deserved to be happy. He had convinced himself that he was the reason why he had been cheated on. He hadn’t been there for her, hadn’t been as good in bed as the other guy. But really, Carly was the problem. She was the one who screwed everything up. Had pulled the “it’s not you, it’s me” after Boone had caught her in their shared bed with the guy she had told him not to worry about. Apparently he had every right to worry.

And then there you were, all sweet and perfect, and he was telling himself that he couldn’t have you. That he didn’t deserve you because of a mistake that his ex girlfriend had made. And he’d tell himself that he wasn’t ready, that the wound was still fresh, but the truth was that it had been closed for quite some time, the pain no longer there, the blood all cleaned up. So what was his excuse? He didn’t have one, not really.

The truck rolled to stop at a red light as thunder rumbled in the distance. You rolled down the window and stuck your head out to see the once white clouds were now gray. There was a flash of lightning and you quickly pulled your head back into the truck as you felt a droplet of rain hit your cheek. Then, in the blink of an eye, it began to downpour, the rain pattering against the truck.

Boone pressed on the gas, going a little faster than he probably should have. He’d never admit it, but he hated driving through rain. It was something that scared him as it was always unpredictable and hard to see. Especially now with it coming down in sheets to the point where he couldn’t see at all.

So not only was it complete torture to be in a vehicle alone with you when you looked so,,,perfect, but now he was having trouble doing the thing that was taking his mind off of you. Now he just wanted to get to where Tyler had told him they were meeting just to get away from the torture.

And as if it couldn’t have gotten any worse, the truck stopped again in the middle of the road. Boone was panicking as he turned the key only to hear the engine stutter as he tried over and over.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel. He then turned to you, hating the look of pity that you were giving him. He didn’t need it since he had been pitying himself for years.

“Maybe we can get someone to give you a jump?”

“Nah, I’ll just get a tow. Needs a new battery anyway,” he replied as he got out of the truck, rounding the front to your side to help you out.

So that’s how you ended up at the motel down the road after watching Boone’s truck roll away attached to the back of a tow truck. And of course, because the universe just loved to laugh at you, the room that you were using for the night only had one bed.

You both stood at the edge, staring down at the mattress, the rain water that had soaked through your clothes surely dripping down onto it. You turned to Boone to see that he was already looking at you, a small smile on his lips.

“Guess one of us will have to take the floor,” he said and you shook your head.

“Don’t be silly,” you replied as you removed your shoes before collapsing onto the bed. “We’ll just share it. And I’ll even put a couple pillows between us if that makes you feel better.”

“Sure,” he replied as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

“But can I be honest?” You asked, sitting up, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Y-yeah,” he stuttered, suddenly scared to hear what you had to say.

“I don’t want a divider,” you told him as you stood to your feet. “I’m so fucking cold and I just want you to hold me and kiss me I know I look like an idiot for being in love with someone who doesn’t reciprocate my feelings.”

“Are you kidding?” He asked with a laugh and you stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Why would I kid about that?”

“I don’t know, I just-you-and-you like me?”

“Yes, I thought it was obvious!”

“Well, obviously not. I mean, I like you too. And I-wow, you like me.” This was the most you had ever heard him speak and you honestly thought it was cute that you got him babbling.

“Will you just shut up and come over here?” You asked and he slowly stepped over to you as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “Kiss me,” you commanded and watched his cheeks blush, his eyes widening.

You watched his gaze shift to your lips then back up to your eyes, filled with desire. Boone then wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you in, slowly inching his mouth towards yours. His lips slotted between yours and you were quick to respond, your movements slow at first, but you were getting eager, hungry, trying to make up for months of want.

His hand moved to cup the back of your head as he tried to keep up with you, not expecting it all to go so quickly. But he wasn’t going to stop you, just letting you take what you wanted as he was pliant underneath your touch.

You pressed one more kiss to his lips before motioning for him to turn around. He was about to argue, but you gave him a pointed look and he just knew not to argue with you.

“Yes ma’am,” he replied, holding his hands up and turning around to face the door. You turned your back to him and peeled off your shirt and jeans, tired of the way they were sticking to you.

“Okay, you can turn around,” you told him once you were in only your bra and panties, and as soon as he was facing you, his mouth fell open, not expecting you to be in full-on lingerie.

“Fuck,” he rasped, then quickly cleared his throat. “I mean, you look-fuck.”

“That’s a compliment, I hope,” you replied, batting your eyelashes.

“It is,” he nodded, feeling he needed some water to wet his very dry throat. You had looked even better than he had imagined. So pretty that he couldn’t look away.

“Now it’s your turn,” you replied and his eyes widened. Boone wasn’t insecure about his body in the slightest, but thinking about you being the one to see it did make him a little nervous.

“My turn?” He asked and you nodded, biting down on your bottom lip, making his thoughts even more impure.

“Yeah, I’m undressed so it’s only right for you to be. That is, if you want to. I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.” But as soon as the words left your mouth, Boone was taking off his shirt, followed by his jeans so he was just left with his underwear where you could clearly see a boner tenting.

His eyes were dark and you were sure that if you had given him permission, he would have taken you right there. And you would have let him. In fact, you were so close to begging him to, or maybe you would have preferred him to be the one to do the begging.

He looked unsure of what to do, suddenly seeming shy so you knew you needed to help him out. You knew about his reputation so you didn’t know why he was so shy around you. You weren’t that intimidating, were you?

You grabbed hold of his hands and pulled him close, your arms wrapping around his neck while his found your waist. You slowly inched your face towards his before slotting your lips together again, this kiss much more soft and gentle.

And in that moment, Boone decided that he could have kissed you for hours, already addicted to the feeling of your lips against his. The way your lip gloss tasted, that fake cherry flavor that normally tasted medicinal, but there, it tasted heavenly and he couldn’t get enough.

Your hands found their way into his hair and he felt like he was going to cream in his pants just from the small tug you gave it as your tongue flicked into his mouth once again. If he hadn’t been able to literally feel your nails digging into his scalp, he would have convinced himself that he was dreaming.

“This is everything I could have dreamed up,” you murmured against his lips and he couldn’t have agreed more. “But I was wondering if you wanted to take it to the next level.”

You pulled away and Boone just nodded furiously, not being able to hide his excitement.

“Gonna need a yes or no.”

“Yes!” He replied, a little too enthusiastically then cleared his throat. “Yes,” he nodded, his tone much more calm and you just laughed in response. He really was cute and felt honored that he was so excited to sleep with you, because from what you had heard, he had sworn off anything of that sort. You supposed now that you were going to have to make it that much more worthwhile.

“Okay, but I think you’re going to have to beg. I just don’t feel like you want it enough.”

“I can beg,” he nodded furiously. “I’m a good begger.”

“Go on, then.”

“Please, y/n,” he whined. “I mean, look at how much I need you,” he pointed to his rock hard cock then dropped to his knees, his hands still holding onto your hips. He buried his face into your stomach and you decided that he wasn’t lying, he really was a good begger.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “I don’t think you want it enough.”

You felt his lips against your stomach and began to laugh as he peppered it with kisses between whispered sweet nothings. God, he was good.

“Please,” he begged, resting his chin on the spot right above your belly button as he looked up at you with pleading eyes. “I promise I’ll be a good boy.”

That line seemed to have done something for you because you were quick to help him to his feet before pushing him down onto the mattress, watching a wide grin spread on his face.

“Boxers off,” you commanded and he was quick to listen, pulling them off as quickly as he could as you pulled a condom from your purse. He put it on while you took off your underwear before climbing on top of him.

“Wow, look at you, honey, you’re already leaking and we haven’t done anything yet,” you teased and watched his cheeks turn red. “All that just from kissing? I must be better than I thought.”

“I-I’m a little out of practice,” he replied, feeling his cheeks getting even more warm.

“We don’t have to do this, Boone,” you reached up to twirl some of his hair around your finger and with you sitting on top of him like that, looking like an absolute dream, he could have sworn that he had died and gone to heaven.

“I want you to feel comfortable.”

“I do,” he smiled. “Actually, you’re the only person who I want to do this with. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Well, let me know if I do something you don’t like or just want to stop.” Boone appreciated how accommodating you were about the whole thing, being nothing but gentle with your words. He just wished that other people had reacted the same instead of just laughing in his face.

“I will,” he nodded. “Now please go ahead and do it. I’m dying here.”

You slowly placed yourself onto his cock and took no time to ride him, your hands finding his shoulders as your movements were slow, wanting to be soft and gentle at first to figure out what he liked before you went in the way you wanted to.

But clearly Boone had enjoyed it as his eyes shut tight, multiple moans falling from his lips as you rode him. His hands moved to your hips, digging into the skin as he bucked against you, feeling the need to move with you. And that seemed to work because a moan fell from your own lips and Boone swore that he was going to come just from hearing it.

“More,” he begged. “Faster.” You did as he commanded and moved faster, watching him come undone underneath you as his fingers dug even more into your skin, his hips bucking against yours even harder.

“Are you sure you’re out of practice?” You asked. “Because you’re doing great. I mean, look at you. Already look like you’re going to come, Jesus.”

“I-I think I’m close.”

Your movements got harder and faster and Boone felt an orgasm building already, feeling kind of embarrassed that he hadn’t lasted very long. But the sounds came out before he could stop them, louder than he had ever been and he was wondering why he hadn’t been on the bottom very often.

“That’s it,” you cooed. “Let it out, baby.” You continued to ride him at the same pace, trying to see how many times you could get him to orgasm in one round.

“Got some more in you? We can stop if you want.”

“Don’t. Stop,” he replied in between breaths and that seemed to be enough for you. You picked up your pace, going the fastest and hardest that you could, watching his back arch underneath you as he orgasmed again and again, looking like an absolute mess with the sweat rolling down his body and his hair that looked beyond repair.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “So fucking good.” His hips bucked against yours again and again as you fucked him hard and fast, trying his best to keep up with you.

The answer was four. And each time seemed to be more intense than the last, practical screams escaping his lips and you really hoped the other guests could hear him and know that you had fucked him good. And you had.

And after you had gone all night, you spent the morning in each other’s arms, bare skin to bare skin as you both got the best sleep of your lives, deciding that you were both looking forward to doing that often, deciding that you had to share a bed every night after admitting your feelings to each other. If either of you had anything to say about it, you’d be together forever.

[hummingbird24220]

Chapter Ten: A Little Too Handy

After your one-punch monster takedown, the crew had fully accepted that your strength wasn’t just for show—it was a downright asset.

Which meant, naturally, they started taking advantage of it.

"Hey, (Y/N), can you carry this?"

Usopp, standing in front of a pile of supplies that looked way too heavy for one person, gave you his best innocent smile.

You raised an eyebrow. "Usopp. That’s like… six crates."

Usopp shrugged. "Yeah, and?"

You rolled your eyes but effortlessly lifted all six crates at once, balancing them on one arm like it was nothing.

Sanji, passing by, whistled. "Impressive."

You smirked, flexing just a little. "Like what you see, sweetheart?"

Sanji immediately turned red. "Tch. Just hold the damn crates."

"Hey, (Y/N), mind clearing the path?"

Nami pointed at a fallen tree blocking their way as they ventured deeper into the island.

"Sure thing, love," you said sweetly—before grabbing the entire tree and tossing it aside like it was a twig.

Usopp let out a strangled noise. "DID YOU JUST—"

Zoro didn’t even blink. "Not even surprised anymore."

Luffy was cackling. "THAT WAS SO COOL!"

Robin chuckled behind her hand. "She makes things look so effortless."

Sanji muttered, "That’s because she’s ridiculous."

You winked. "Oh, darling, I love when you talk about me."

Sanji choked.

By the time dinnertime rolled around, Sanji had somehow ended cooking a monster-sized feast thanks to Luffy’s enthusiastic hunting. The kitchen was chaotic—piles of meat, vegetables, and spices everywhere.

You sauntered in, tilting your head. "Need some help, sweetheart?"

Sanji, stressed but refusing to admit it, scoffed. "Tch. Think you can keep up with me?"

You grinned. "Give me a knife and watch me work, love."

Robin, sipping wine at the counter, smiled knowingly. "This will be fun."

And it was.

You weren’t just strong—you were fast.

By the time Sanji had finished one dish, you had already chopped, prepped, and sorted half the ingredients for the rest of the meal. Your hands were precise, your movements quick, and every time you handed something to Sanji, you made sure to brush your fingers against his just to see him fluster.

"Oops," you teased as your fingers lingered on his wrist. "Didn’t mean to touch you there, darling~"

Sanji nearly dropped a pan.

Zoro, passing by, smirked. "You’re enjoying this way too much."

You grinned. "Absolutely."

Sanji was seething—but he also couldn’t kick you out because you were making his life easier.

Franky, peeking in, muttered, "This is painful to watch."

Luffy just laughed. "I LIKE THIS GAME!"

By the end of the night, dinner was a massive success, and the crew fully embraced your usefulness.

Luffy was grinning ear to ear. "You’re so strong AND fast! I picked a good one!"

You chuckled, stretching your arms. "Aw, Cap, you sure know how to make a girl feel special."

Sanji grumbled, shoving a plate in front of you. "Eat before I change my mind."

You winked. "Yes, chef."

Sanji visibly short-circuited.

Zoro sighed. "This crew just keeps getting weirder."

Robin chuckled, watching the chaos unfold. "And more entertaining."

And just like that, you had fully cemented yourself as a frightening force aboard the Sunny.

It started with Zoro being a sore loser.

The crew was lazing around the deck after another successful meal, everyone full and relaxed. You were sipping a drink, lounging on one of the barrels, when Luffy suddenly perked up.

“Hey! Let’s have an arm-wrestling contest!”

Immediate reactions followed:

Usopp paled. “No. Absolutely not.”

Nami sighed. “This is gonna end in disaster.”

Sanji exhaled smoke, uninterested.

Franky flexed. “Super idea, bro!”

Robin smiled over her book. “This will be amusing.”

Zoro grunted. “Tch. Fine.”

You perked up immediately. “Oh? We’re doing this?”

Zoro smirked. “Think you can take me?”

Sanji muttered, “She one-punched a monster the size of a ship.”

Zoro ignored him.

Luffy bounced in place. “I WANNA GO FIRST!”

You grinned, rolling your shoulders. “Alright, Cap, let’s see what you got.”

Round One: Luffy vs. (Y/N)

The second Luffy grabbed your hand, you knew he was gonna use his Devil Fruit powers.

And that’s exactly what he did.

“GUM-GUM ARM WRESTLE!” he declared, his arm stretching for extra leverage.

You just waited.

And then, with zero effort, you slammed his hand into the table.

Luffy blinked. “Huh?”

You smiled sweetly. “You lose, love.”

Luffy exploded into laughter. “THAT WAS AWESOME!”

Zoro rolled his shoulders. “Alright. My turn.”

Round Two: Zoro vs. (Y/N)

The second you locked hands, you felt Zoro’s strength. It was solid, his muscles tense, his grip like iron.

This was gonna be fun.

The crew leaned in, watching intently.

“Alright,” Zoro smirked. “Let’s see what you—”

BAM.

Before he could finish, you slammed his hand down so hard the entire table split in half.

Silence.

Then—

“DAMN IT.” Zoro stood up, seething. “No way. One more.”

Nami groaned. “Zoro, just admit it—”

“ONE MORE.”

You smirked, resting your chin in your palm. “Careful, honey. Your pride’s showing.”

Zoro gritted his teeth, sitting back down.

Sanji was dying of laughter. “Ohhh, this is too good.”

Franky wiped a fake tear. “I’ve never been prouder.”

Robin, entirely unbothered, sipped her tea.

Usopp? Usopp was just staring at the broken table. “HOW DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS?!”

Luffy, of course, was cackling. “SHE’S STRONGER THAN ZORO!”

Zoro turned a lethal glare at Luffy. “Shut it, Captain.”

You just winked. “Ready for another round, stud?”

Zoro grumbled, cracking his knuckles. “This time, I won’t hold back.”

You laughed, resting your elbow on what was left of the table. “Neither will I.”

[darkenedroses-world]

Short Circuit — Droid x Reader

🔹 Smut 🔹 Pegging 🔹 Dom!Reader 🔹 Sub!Droid 🔹 Overstimulation 🔹 Dirty Talk 🔹 Power Play 🔹 Cocky Turned Into A Mess 🔹 Aftercare 🔹 f!reader 🔹 Request 🦋

The room was dimly lit, a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting long shadows across the walls. You sat on the edge of the bed, watching as Jaime shifted in front of you, his usual cocky demeanor faltering under your gaze. He was shirtless, his bare back facing you, muscles tense with anticipation. “You nervous, baby?” you teased, running your fingers down his spine, watching as a shudder ran through his body. Droid scoffed, turning his head slightly to glance at you over his shoulder. “Pfft. Me? Nervous? Please,” he muttered, but the way he swallowed hard gave him away. You smirked, leaning in to press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder. “Then why are you gripping the sheets so tight?” Jaime let out a shaky breath, his fingers flexing against the fabric beneath him. “I just—I don’t usually let people…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Fuck. Why am I even explaining myself to you?” “Because you like it,” you whispered against his skin, dragging your nails lightly down his arms. “Because deep down, you want to be taken care of. You like the thought of giving up control, don’t you?”

Droid exhaled sharply through his nose, his jaw clenching. “Shut the fuck up.” “Oh, baby,” you cooed, pressing your chest against his back, your hand sliding down to wrap around his throat. “That’s not how you ask nicely.” Jaime cursed under his breath, shifting slightly as your grip tightened just enough to make his breath hitch. “Goddamn it,” he muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words. You kissed behind his ear, voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I thought.” With deliberate slowness, you ran your hands down his sides, feeling the way his body tensed and relaxed under your touch. He was trying to act unaffected, but you saw the way his muscles twitched, the way his breath came in uneven little puffs. You guided him forward, pressing his chest down against the mattress, his knees sinking into the bed as he obeyed without a second thought. “You’re gonna be good for me, aren’t you?” you murmured, tracing your nails down his spine. Jaime groaned, gripping the sheets tighter. “Fuck. Yeah.” The moment you pressed the first slicked-up toy against him, his entire body jerked, a sharp gasp slipping past his lips before he could stop it.

“Oh, shit—” You bit your lip, watching the way he pushed back instinctively. “Damn,” you mused, dragging it over his entrance without pushing in just yet. “You sure you haven’t done this before, baby?” Jaime let out a breathy laugh, his face flushed against the pillows. “I fucking hate you.” “No, you don’t,” you said smugly, finally easing the toy inside him. Jaime’s entire body stiffened, his hands fisting the sheets as he buried his face into the mattress. His breath came in short, quick gasps, every muscle in his back flexing as he adjusted. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his voice strained. You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. “Breathe, love,” you murmured. “Relax.” Jaime forced out a shuddering exhale, his fingers slowly unclenching from the sheets. His body started to loosen beneath your hands, and when you moved again, he let out a muffled groan. “There you go,” you praised, rubbing slow circles into his lower back. “Taking it so well.” Jaime’s laugh was breathless, strained. “I—I’m gonna kill you.” You hummed, rocking the toy slightly, making him jolt.

“Sure you are, baby.” A curse tumbled from his lips, but it was swallowed by a moan when you started moving in earnest. His body betrayed him, pushing back instinctively, meeting each slow thrust with a quiet, choked-off noise. “That’s it,” you purred, gripping his hips. “God, you look so good like this.” Jaime groaned, his face buried in his arms. “Fuck—fuck, don’t say shit like that.”Why not?” you teased, dragging your nails down his back. “You like hearing how good you look getting fucked, don’t you?” Jaime let out a strangled noise, his knuckles turning white as he clenched the sheets. “I—I—” You smirked, increasing the pace just slightly. “Oh, baby,” you murmured, leaning down until your lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “You can cum.” Jaime sucked in a sharp breath, his entire body shuddering beneath you. His muscles tensed, his breathing ragged as he buried his face in the pillows. “Oh, f-fuck—” You bit your lip, watching him unravel completely beneath you. The sound of his moans, the way his body trembled, the sheer desperation in his voice—it was intoxicating.

When he finally collapsed against the bed, completely spent and gasping for breath, you pressed a lingering kiss to his shoulder. “Still wanna kill me?” you teased. Jaime let out a weak chuckle, turning his head just enough to meet your gaze. His face was flushed, strands of his messy hair sticking to his forehead. “Give me, like… five minutes,” he panted. “Then? Yeah. I’m ending you.” You laughed, running a hand through his hair. “Sure you are, baby.” Jaime groaned, reaching back to swat at your arm, but there was no real force behind it. “Shut the fuck up.” You just grinned, curling up beside him, feeling nothing but satisfaction as you pulled him into your arms. Yeah. You were definitely doing this again.

[endwersed]

WIP Wednesday

Tagged by the lovely @renmackree 💖

A li'l snippet from the new AU WIP: Derek and Stiles are besties and roommates, and they strike up a no-strings-attached, friends-with-benefits style relationship - even though Derek is (allegedly) straight.

-

"Holy shit," Stiles says, a wide smile spreading across his mouth as he snaps his fingers right in front of Derek's face. "I totally have the best idea ever."

"I doubt that," Derek remarks drily, laughing when Stiles slaps his chest. "Fine. What is it, then?"

“We,” Stiles begins, incessantly wagging a pointer finger back and forth between their noses, “should have sex.”

Which is – quite possibly the literal last thing he expected to come out of Stiles’ mouth, to be perfectly honest. He blinks his completely speechless shock back at him for what feels like an uncomfortably long time.

“You’re kidding,” he says flatly, eventually.

But Stiles stuns him all over again with a quick, vigorous shake of his head.

“It makes perfect sense!” he declares, which, beg to fucking differ, actually. “You’re single and horny. I’m single and horny. You’re not ready to go out and find anyone new. I’m tired of everyone being new. We could, you know, say fuck it to our circumstances. Both be just as single, but less horny. Even just for tonight, maybe.”

It's almost like Derek can feel his heartbeat thumping away behind his ribcage, that rhythmic thud-thud-thud of it throbbing in his eardrums. His palms feel sweaty as he flexes his fingers on his bare thighs, his mouth a little dry as his brain pretty much short-circuits, and all he can do for another set of long, dragging seconds is stare, and stare, and stare in silence.

This silence is a whole lot less comfortable than the one before, he thinks vaguely.

“You know I’m…” He cuts himself off for another moment to gape, blink, clear his throat. “You know that I’m… straight. Right?”

Stiles shrugs one shoulder, waving a hand casually about the air.

“Whatever,” he says, just, entirely nonchalant, leaning forwards just the tiniest bit across the couch. “Me and Scott did it in high school, and he’s straight. He’s the straightest dude I know, actually. The guy washes his face with hand soap, for god’s sake.”

That information catches Derek off guard. He knew Scott and Stiles went to high school together, and middle school and elementary and all that jazz, but he didn’t know that they ever… they ever…

He scrubs a rough hand over his face as his brain tries desperately to catch up to the intensity of this entire goddamn conversation.

“That’s… I… We…” he struggles to find his words.

“Hey,” Stiles interrupts sharply, pointed enough that Derek abruptly opens his eyes again, turning back to where Stiles is fixing him with a serious kind of stare. “It’s not a big deal if you don't want to. It was just an idea. Obviously, we will not do a thing if you’re not into it. Which clearly, you are not.”

And before Derek knows what he's doing, he finds himself blurting out, “I didn’t say that.”

Stiles pauses. He quirks one eyebrow, halting where he was halfway into climbing his way off the couch – to grab another beer, to go to the bathroom, or to go to bed, Derek does not know. But he kind of… doesn’t want to find out.

He wants Stiles to sit back down. He wants to… discuss it, maybe.

Which feels insane. To make one thing abundantly, perfectly clear – he is straight. He likes women, and he has always liked women. He liked women when he was in high school and he could get them in the backseat of his Camaro, he liked women at the start of college when everything was new and fun and his big sister wasn’t one room over from his bedroom, and he liked women when he met Paige and decided he was pretty okay with being a one-woman kind of man, actually.

But… but he really wasn’t kidding earlier. Sincerely, nobody but him has touched his dick in a year. He thinks he’s beginning to forget what it actually feels like. And with the added buzz of the alcohol in his system – not enough to wreck him, but enough to make him feel a little looser – well...

Well. Maybe it’s not so insane, after all, that he finds himself even considering this right now.

“I am straight, though,” he feels the need to reiterate.

“Okay,” Stiles says slowly, rolling his eyes. “But, like, really, I mean – a mouth's a mouth. Right?"

-

No pressure tags!! @aurevell @crownofstardustandbone @hedwig221b @lucky-bishop @thotpuppy

[keirawantstocry]

An idea: Pac and Fit learn and then watch Tubbo doing his trampoline (or maybe even gymnastics in general) routine<3

oh tia. have i mentioned you're a genius. rotating this in my mind. i didn't do it justice nobody can. gah its just so good

“What's this?” Pac asked, as Fit and him walked up to Tubbo's place. There he stood next to a large rectangular trampoline with cushions on the sides. 

“I used to be a trampolinist when I was younger,” Tubbo said as he began to shed the outer layers of his outfit. Pac barely processed his words as his eyes narrowed in on the strong thighs now on display under short black shorts and the muscled biceps under the tank top. 

He glanced up and saw Fit's eyes trained on the same thing. Fit noticed him looking and glanced up at him. Their eyes were saying the same thing to each other. 

“Bagi suggested I get back into it,” Tubbo continued as Pac tore his attention away from Fit, away from Tubbo's thighs and tried to pay attention to what he was saying. “It's a way to release pent up stress and energy.” 

“There's other ways to release pent up energy,” Pac muttered under his breath in Portuguese. 

“What was that?” Tubbo said, looking up but thankfully the translator hadn't caught it. 

“Nothing,” Pac said, trying to look innocent and like he hadn't just been staring at Tubbo's thighs again. 

Tubbo squinted at him suspiciously but turned back around to climb onto the trampoline. Their eyes were definitely not zeroed in on his ass. 

With a quick few bends to his torso followed by snapping, Tubbo was ready. 

The performance could only be explained as incredible. Every movement of his body was fluid and followed the move before it perfectly. Pac was utterly obsessed with the way his muscles twisted and flexed with his movements. How his calves flexed, how his incredibly strong core kept himself balanced through every flip and jump. 

The flips were the main event, up and down over and over again as he flipped, quickly tucking his knees in before straightening again to touch down and bounce back up even higher. He spun in the air, elegantly twisting with his arms tucked into his sides. 

Pac would be the first to admit that trampolining didn't seem like a very attractive sport but now? Watching Tubbo land gently with a flushed face and wide grin, he had to change his mind. 

With barely a glance at Fit he could tell his boyfriend was thinking the same thing. 

Tubbo climbed carefully off the trampoline and stood in front of them, panting heavily. “Good?” he said with a laugh. 

“So good,” Pac said, feeling dizzy as his eyes dipped down the sweat dripping down Tubbo's chest. 

“It was amazing,” Fit said, slightly more capable of thought then Pac was. 

“Is your boyfriend okay?” Tubbo asked Fit with a slight laugh. “He's fucking vibrating.” 

They both looked at him and Fit laughed loudly. “Yeah, yeah, he just wants to jump your bones so bad it's making him dizzy.” 

“Fitch!!” Pac cried out, avoiding both of their eyes. “Shut up.” 

Fit laughed, that deep laugh from his chest as Tubbo eyed him curiously. “Is that so?” 

Pac perked up at his inflection. “Are you interested?” 

Tubbo flushed, looking between two of them. “Pac, man, your boyfriend is right there.” 

“So?’ 

Tubbo raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I… I don't think he'd appreciate you flirting with me right in front of him.” 

“Pffft,” Pac said, waving him off. “Não, pretty sure he wants to… jump your bones as he said as well.” 

Tubbo froze. “Sorry… what?” 

Pac couldn't stop his eyes from dipping down again as a drop of sweat fell from his face onto the stretch of skin above his shirt. His brain short-circuited. 

Distantly he could hear Fit's rumbling laugh. “Aw come on, Tubbo. If you don't know by now that he wants you, you're kind of stupid.” 

Tubbo spluttered. “Hey, I'm not stupid! Wait, he wants me?” 

“Don't talk about me like I'm not here,” Pac said half heartedly, taking a step forward so he could run his hand over Tubbo's collarbone. 

“Fit,” Tubbo said in a strained voice. “You better tell me if you're serious or not right now before I actually make out with your boyfriend right fucking now.” 

“Go right ahead. As long as I get a shot at you next.” 

Tubbo let out a weak noise of surprise before he and Pac were falling into each other desperately, all clumsy hands and gentle mouths.