#( tap the heart ; starter call. )

[contradictivs]

does anyone want a silly little starter whilst I struggle with drafts? hm 👀

[hcllishdreamer]

tags.

[blccmngs]

and if I make a starter call but I use memes one of us reblogged to make the starter? what then?

[staticgcne]

tags.

[wandcrsoul]

tags.

[lustled]

tags

[wrathstricken]

tags

[hcllishqueen]

tags

[heavcnborn]

tags

[voxxisms]

tag drop pt 1.

[contradictivs]

anyone want a silly lil starter as I chill for the night? it'll definitely be goofy <3

[mydearesthrry]

book (lovers) - h.s.

a/n: okay i know ive said this about everything ive written but this one takes the cake for being so self indulgent its actually insane. excerpt she reads is from page 425 of ‘kiss the sky’ by kb ritchie :)) enjoy my loves, this is one of my favorite things ive written. oh also this is severely corny LMFAO

Splayed across the couch, she rested her head against the armrest while her feet lay idle in Harry’s lap, chin downturned as she read the book that dangled above her face, fingers softly tapping against the front and back covers. It was Sunday, and a big part of their ‘weekly reset’ as they liked to call it, entailed a full house clean, and while the dishwasher ran and the clothes were in the washer and dryer, they would read a little bit of their respective books.

However, what never failed to make people laugh, including Harry’s fans, was how drastic of a change their books would be in genre. How Harry would carry around an early century poetry book, while his girlfriend would carry around an annotated copy of a romance book, flashy tabs sticking out of the edges and all. It was always a conversation starter when they would go to cafes, and they would even try to switch books— which never failed to make Y/N laugh at the way Harry scrunched up his nose at the vulgar language on the pages. He almost always asked to switch their books when she ended up on a smut scene. Just his luck, he guesses.

“Switch?” Harry murmured, eyes looking up from his Bukowski book, seeing his sweet girlfriend peek her eyes up from hers.

“Um,” She said quietly, almost mouse-like. “Can we… I just, um, I just got to— a good part?”

“A good pa- oh.” Harry hummed, brows scrunched in confusion until he realized what she meant. “Uh… how about 5 more minutes? Give y’a bit of a head start right now if y’speed read?”

“Yes! Okay, going.” She smiled, eyes trailing back toward her book, flipping through the pages every 30-45 seconds, knowing she was now in a time crunch.

Harry watched in admiration as she grasped her book with one hand, fanning out toward the living room, her face now fully visible to him. He admired the way her brows would scrunch every so often, or how she picked up the habit of pinching her bottom lip between her fingers in concentration like he did. Or how her brows would furrow, and how she would blink the slightest bit faster when she found something cute, as if she was trying to paint a picture in her head without closing her eyes, finding the smallest reprieve in the semi-regular darkness.

She was his own personal jar of perfection. Of sunshine, of love, of happiness. She saved him. In every way a person can be saved.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she grinned with finality, sitting up to meet him halfway, knees hitting the side of his thigh as she held her book out, thumb in place of her spot. He smiled as she shook him right out of his thoughts, a serene glimmer in his eyes, heart nearly falling out of his chest in pure awe. Awe that someone could love him this much, and awe that he could love somebody this much.

This feeling almost felt beyond him.

“C’mere, actually. Lemme read t’you.” He smiled, pulling her into his lap, adjusting her so she rested against the crook of his arm and on the armrest. Clearing his throat, he began reading the first line of the new chapter in her book, pulling her closer every time she would swoon quietly, so quietly, it almost sounded like a bubble in her throat.

Eventually, she takes over, giving him a chance to rest his voice. She croons the words softly, the utmost intimacy permeating the room as she reads the words of of the ivory colored page, committing the inked words to memory.

Breathing softly, her voice light and her hand on Harry’s which rested on her stomach, she read, “‘I realize, in this very moment, that love was the only thing missing from my life. And it’s the only thing that matters to me.’”

“Tha’s so me.” Harry states, making Y/N lift her head up from his chest.

“What?” She guffaws, laughs bubbling from her chest. “Oh my god, I’ve turned you into me.”

“Wha’ d’you mean?” He says confused.

“Never in my entire time of knowing you, Harry Styles, have you ever said ‘that’s so me’. I’m literally turning you into a carbon copy of me. Day by day, baby.” She grins, book face down on the couch so she can talk to him and keep her spot.

“Umm,” He giggles. “Well, y’kinda take up… like… 90 percent of my life. So, I was bound t’pick up your silly lingo.”

“Sure, baby. But, yeah- I agree. Love— our love, really, is one of the only things that matter to me. In a different universe, if I didn’t have this… if I didn’t have you? I think I would be so lost right now.”

“And in every single universe,” he whispers, pecking a soft kiss to her lips. “I will always find you. My perfect Sunny girl.”

[blccmngs]

I'm struggling with the remainder of my drafts so ... like this post for a lil starter and-or me sending u some memes <3

[lenislenii]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞

Synopsis: He teaches you how to ride a horse! Warning: nothingg! Author's Note: Boothill is so fun to write AAAAA i love him so much, boothill wanters shall be boothill havers!! by the way this was written by an equestrian so i like got a bit of inspiration on my life style LMAO

Boothill x gn!reader

"I think those plastic ponies from theme parks are more your style, darlin'" Boothill said while guiding the horse around the paddock, truth to be said, you were terrible at this, like how did he do it? while galloping? and shotting? you would never understand how talented this man can be.

"Oh shut up i am not that bad" You said, keeping your hands on the reins and trying yout best to not fall out of the animal who was at the lowest speed ever "Not that bad?" Boothill teased arching a brow "Then, by all means, show me your flawless equestrian skills Y/N" His grin widened giving you an amused look.

"I really hope this horse kicks you" that made boothill chuckle and roll his eyes "watch it Y/N" he warned playfully "You might just get what you wish for." He gave you a light tap on your hip "Now, focus on maintainin' your balance and stop wavin' your legs around like a flag" he said playfully.

"My legs do not look like a flag" you rolled your eyes, Boothill chuckled at your retort, his gaze shifting to observe the way your limbs flailed without proper control "You do realize that flailing your legs is part of the reason for all this wobblin', right?" he pointed out, his tone carrying a note of playful amusement "What do you mean by flailing my legs? my position is amazing" you said proudly.

Boothill arched a skeptical brow, his red pupils narrowing with an amused glint "Is that so? Well, let's check your 'amazing' position, shall we? For starters, your knees should be tight against the horse's body. That way, you'll have better control" he explained, making a subtle gesture indicating the way you should adjust your seating.

For once you actually listened to his explanation adjusting your position on the saddle and trying to maintain a better control, "That's much better, I reckon" he commented, his tone approving "You see? A little guidance can go a long way." you rolled your eyes at that, he noticed it and let out a chuckle "Now, Start with walking your horse in a circle, just to warm up," he instructed with a confident nod.

you nodded and tried to get the horse to walk again, you managed to get your horse to walk once again, Boothill stood by your side, offering support and guidance "You're doin' good!" he praised, his grin widening "Just keep holdin' the reins gently and move 'em slightly to guide your horse" you nodded and used the reins to guide the horse, Boothill observed your progress with a keen eye. His expression held a mix of pride and amusement as he acknowledged your improvement "See? You're gettin' the hang of it Y/N" he encouraged, his voice tinged with satisfaction "Keep it up, and soon you'll be gallopin' through the plains like a pro." you scoffed with a chuckle "i could never be as good as you, you go galloping and shooting stuff"

"Ah, but that's because I've had years of practice and honed my skills" he explained with a cocky grin. "And trust me, you might just surprise yourself with how fast you progress once you practice enough, just keep practicin', and you'll be gallopin' soon enough," he encouraged.

"fine i guess you are not that bad at giving motivation after all" you said with a chuckle, boothill's smirk widened into a pleased grin as you acknowledged his motivational skills "Looks like I'm not just a pretty face," he teased, his tone playfully boastful "I've got a knack for boostin' the ol' spirits." you scoffed "did you just call me old?"

"Ah, don't mind that, darlin'. Everyone's a bit of an 'ol' soul at heart," he explained, his tone carrying a playful undertone, he turned his gaze to the horizon once more, admiring the landscape before them "Besides, 'old' aint all that bad, is it? It means experiencin' life, learnin' a thing or two. And you know what they say: with age comes wisdom" you chuckle at those words "wow grandpa getting a bit to relatable over there" Boothill chuckled at your teasing, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes "Ah, just wait, darlin'. Someday you'll find yourself sayin' the same things to the youngsters. Life has a way of playin' its little tricks, turnin' the tables on ya," you stopped the horse and looked at thim.

"That would be true if you werent just 1 year older than me" Boothill's smirk widened slightly as he tilted his head, acknowledging your remark "Aye, you caught me there, Y/N, But let's be honest, a year in the grand scheme is nothin'! Besides, I'm just sharin' some of life's lessons, Wisdom doesn't discriminate based on age." He shrugged playfully, a hint of confidence lingering in his demeanor.

"But hey, if you prefer the ol' 'grandpa' title, by all means, I can embrace it." you chuckle "Alright newton help me get off of the horse before you start yapping about life mistakes or something" He walked over to your horse and held out his hand. "As you wish, missy. Here, let me help you down," he said, his voice tinged with amusement.

Once you safely dismounted, Boothill took a moment to pat the horse's neck affectionately before turning to you, you turned your attention to him s well "i'm starving, wanna go with me to the coffee shop nearby?" you asked, Boothill's grin widened as you changed the subject "Sure thing, Y/N! I could use a cup of coffee" he commented giving the horse for the caretaker to take, as you made your way towards the nearby coffee shop, Boothill walked beside you, his eyes scanning the surroundings "I hear they've got a new blueberry muffin. Can't promise I won't devour the whole thing, though," he chuckled, his gaze returning to you with a playful wink.

Fine you admit this man is fine as hell, you wouldn't mind starting riding lessons just to be with him.

repost are appreciated, please don't translate my work without permission ♡

[sturnioz]

hey

wait

what about

mechanic!matt…………..he been told you to get rid of your car but you don’t have the money for it, the uni semester has already been off to a chaotic start, and PLUS it was a gift from your grandpa on your 18th :(

i lowkey kinda fucked up this req and changed it a bit cos i struggled to write it :| i wrote meeting mechanic!matt for the first time instead my bad my bad my bad.

you're freaking out.

you're freaking out so bad you're teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown, overwhelmed by a storm of emotions as you stand in the middle of the auto repair shop.

you've been so stressed; your new semester had a chaotic start, your classes keeping you unbelievably busy. to make matters worse, you've also had a painful falling out with your best friend, the kind of rift that feels like a gaping wound. on top of that, you recent breakup still fucking stings and you feel like you're going to throw up every time you cross paths.

and now, as if the universe is conspiring against you, your car has betrayed you, refusing to start in the middle of the road when you were on your way home. (the embarrassment of having to call a tow truck had only made it worse).

the constant sounds of clanging metal and the low hum of machinery surrounds you, gnawing at your nerves, overstimulating you. you close your eyes and rub your temples, desperately trying to block out the flickering overhead lights that create disorientating flashes behind your eyelids.

the air was thick too, heavy with the scent of motor oil and burnt rubber, a pungent reminder of your current predicament that makes your stomach churn with nausea, and you feel an overwhelming urge to escape, to bolt out the fucking door and leave this place behind.

but you can't.

you can't abandon your car — your baby, a precious gift from your grandpa.

with a deep breath, you peel your eyes open, your teeth gnawing at your bottom lip as you scan the bustling shop for the beefy man who greeted you when you first arrived. you're desperate for answers, anxious to find out if your car is truly fucked.

oh god, you wanted to cry. the thought of the repair costs makes you stomach twist. how much money will you have to spend? money that you don't even have. panic instantly washes over you.

you're screwed. you're done. you're hopeless. you're—

"hey," a voice jolts you from your spiralling thoughts, and you snap around, bracing yourself to confront the man you were searching for, but instead, you're taken aback by someone completely different.

he stands before you, hair tousled, strands falling over his light blue eyes. he's wearing a snug black tank top and dark blue overalls, the sleeves casually wrapped around his slim waist, showcasing a patchwork tattooed arm. his hands are smeared with grease and oil, evidence of a long day spent working on cars, and he nonchalantly twirls a wrench around his finger while chewing gum, casualness radiating from him as he stares at you.

"how bad is she?" you dare to ask, your voice trembles slightly, a mix of fear and hope surfacing in your chest.

the corner of his lips twitches slightly at your words before he begins. "she's not doin' too good." your heart sinks, a lump forming in your throat as you brace yourself for what's coming. "for starters, your battery is dead, but there's some damage done to the ignition system too... s'likely that the stater's shot, and the alternator needs replacing too."

you swallow hard, the reality of the situation hits you like a punch in the gut, and the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. "how... how much are we talking?"

"could be a couple hundred for the battery 'n starter, maybe more dependin' on what else i find when i dig deeper," his fingers rhythmically tap against the wrench in his hands, chewing his gum slowly as he admits, "not gonna lie t'you, sweetheart — s'not gonna be cheap."

"fuck," another wave of panic rises within you, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. you feel so helpless. "i uh, i don't, i.. i can't, i—"

"hey," he says again, his voice steady and soothing as he gets your attention. your watery eyes snap to his when you feel his hand touch your shoulder gently. you don't even care about the grease and oil staining your shirt right now. "take a deep breathe, yeah? in and out. eeeeasy."

you nod quickly, following his instructions, inhaling deeply through your nose and exhaling through your mouth, trying to regain control over the rapid beating of your heart. your skin feels clammy, and your head is fuzzy, but his calm demeanour seems to help anchor you.

"there we go.. that's it," he hums softly, squeezing your arm as he nods in approval. "now, talk t'me. slowly."

"i... i can't afford it," you whisper defeatedly. "i don't have a job right now, i can't. i don't know how i'm going to pay for all this."

he studies you quietly for a moment, his gaze shifting from concern to something more contemplative. "we can figure somethin' out... sellin' the parts might be—"

"no!" you blurt out, shaking your head sharply. the suddenness of your response catches him off guard, his eyebrows raising slightly in surprise at your defiance. "i'm sorry, i... i can't sell it."

he lifts his hand to scratch at his cheek, squinting his eyes as he processes your reaction. "you uh, y'not makin' this easy, sweetheart—"

"i know, but i can't sell it," you insist with a soft sigh. "it means a lot to me.. please? is there another way?"

he studies you again, standing in silence, and you hold his gaze, hoping he'll come up with a solution. you watch as he takes a step closer, lowering his voice as if he's sharing a secret.

"what if.. we work somethin' out?" he suggests. "i'll uh, i'll fix your car for cheap — maybe for nothin' if you do somethin' for me?"

"what are you suggesting?" you ask, curiosity piqued.

he grins, revealing his pearly whites as he chews his gum, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly as if he hadn't just proposed something so serious and sudden. he doesn't answer you, which makes you prompt the question again, and he keeps the grin on his face as he turns and walks further into the shop, casting a glance over his shoulder at you, a silent invitation to follow him.

[thatsdemko]

like he would- l.stroll

masterlist

requested: n

pairings: Lance stroll x fem!reader

warnings: not intended for minors + long(I’m sorry for that) + teasing + begging + fingering( f receiving) + lighthearted jokes

a/n: I know the image is of toronto but this fic is based in Montreal. shoutout @oconso for letting me borrow your lance knowledge for parts of this fic! enjoy everyone☺️🫶

《 the following content has ideas that are not intended for minors. 》

it was supposed to be lights out and away we go, but instead you’re stuck in the pitch black with nothing but candles and cellphone flashlights during a power outage playing all sorts of games with the drivers.

lando sits to your left, Carlos on your right, Charles and Pierre sit across from you with Lance. the man who had somehow managed to snag a few drivers attention when he started asking you and Fernando bizarre questions out of pure boredom.

that’s how this game of never have I ever, truth or dare, fuck,marry, kill, and many others you couldn’t remember now began. it all began with Lance asking if Fernando would rather be a sugar daddy or a sugary baby. the answer surprised you both.

power outages like this don’t often happen in the middle of free practice. it was an odd event that the so called pinnacle of sports had something like this happen that lasted for over two hours thus far. boredom was hitting everyone, and that was how you all seemed to be gathered around in a corner of the Aston Martin garage.

“okay, so I think it’s Pierre’s turn to ask a question.” Carlos keeps track, finger pointing at the Frenchman who taps his chin scooping out his next victim.

“y/n! you’ve been awfully silent, Cherie.” his grin turns into a smirk as he adjusts his seated position on the ground more towards you. you can only see the glow of his beautiful blue eyes in the candles and lit up cell phone flashes, but he’s got a deviled look that makes your stomach twist in knots.

“who would you fuck, marry, and kill: me, Charles, or Lance.” he pulls his knees tight into his chest, chin resting against the top his kneecap, “pick wisely!”

you laugh nervously, not because of the question— god no it was so easy. you knew exactly who you’d pick in a heartbeat to marry, fuck, or kill. it was admitting it to all three drivers that became the hard part.

“well for starters, Charles I’m so sorry.” you turn to the Ferrari driver, who nods in understanding, “it’s not you, it’s me.” you say, it’s somewhat sarcastic and there’s some truth to it. you could never see yourself marrying Charles, he was far beyond your league and your personalities were a bit different. he was someone you’d maybe kiss, but never go any further.

“Pierre,” you mock his previous state, finger resting against your chin, “I’ll marry you.” you point to him shaking your finger up and down, “I think you’d treat me right.”

“and I wouldn’t?” Lance interrupts, hand resting to where his heart sits, he plays hurt that gets a laugh out of everyone in the circle, “I thought we had something?”

if you had it your way, you’d fuck and marry Lance, but you couldn’t admit that to them. you couldn’t admit that the man who sits directly across from you on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, was the guy you’d let fuck you until a headboard fell off, and then marry you the next day.

you and Lance had nothing serious. the occasional flirt, a text message here and there, but it never left the first stage. it never got any more serious than that, and despite the many hints at wanting the next level, like a date or something, he never got the very obvious message.

“we do—“

“but only fuckable?” he cuts you off, and you can tell he genuinely is upset. it was his idea of the silly little game. it was his idea to start asking fuck, marry, kill. but it was he who couldn’t stand the results.

“you’re not just fuckable, Lance.” you admit, lucky that the light isn’t back on for everyone to see your rosy red cheeks. the air around you was beginning to feel warm despite the cool temperatures of Canada, you were throwing off your teal green Aston Martin jacket to cool off from the heat of embarrassment.

“it’s a game, man, she wouldn’t actually kill me.” Charles reminds him with a smile and a pat on the back that seems to calm him, “I’m sure if Pierre said your name twice she’d pick you for marriage and sex.”

you’re not sure why he’s riled up, but luckily enough the emotions slip him and he’s back to his giggly self answering the questions and dodging the dares.

“you should really apologize to Lance.” Carlos collides his shoulder with yours. his head nods in the direction of the Canadian across from you who lucky enough is engulfed in a chat with Fernando.

he can feel your eyes on you. it makes his skin crawl, his heart jump out of its cavity. he wonders what you’re talking about. he wonders if it has anything to do with him or if you just have a staring problem. he admits that being overly dramatic about the choice was wrong, but it still stung. the very idea of you even marrying someone that wasn’t him burned a hole in his heart.

he wasn’t going to just be fuckable.

—

“hey,” you enter his motorhome, to-go bowls of salad and soup rest in your arms as you carefully move up the steps, “brought some food for us.” you smile setting it all on the table and he joins you.

“you know, if you were my girlfriend, I’d kiss you for this gesture.” he unwraps the steaming hot container of chicken noodle soup, you find it cute that he warms his hands up over the steam.

“yeah?” you ask back, beginning to dig into the hot soup, “if I was your wife I’d slap you for that comment.”

he shakes his head blowing at the hot contents on his plastic spoon. you watch him carefully slurp the broth that burns his tongue and he spits it right back out, “too hot.” he quickly sips his water bottle before his eyes fall on you.

“do you need a kiss to feel better?” you fake a pout pretending to care that he burnt his tongue. he plays along nodding, “take care of me, y/n.” he frowns.

you move from your seat at the table, about to press your lips to his cheek when he turns his head, hands cupping your face, his lips land on yours. it shocks you for a moment, how smooth the move was. he’s pulling you down into his lap, each of the nerves in his fingers itch to remove your sweatshirt.

“Lance,” you break away from the kiss, resting your hand atop of your chest to compose yourself. the past thirty seconds had been much of a whirlwind. looking down at him, he’s out of breath too, chest visibly rising and falling, “we can’t do this on the bench.” you say removing your legs from around his body allowing him to sit up.

your words hardly have a second to register in the air, he’s already standing up once again cupping your face with his hand, lips hovering dangerously over yours, “so the bedroom then?” he asks, thumb pad swiping your cheek while his other hand pushes hair off your shoulder.

the bedroom in the motorhome was cramped and small. it was a full size bed with barely any wiggle room for movement in the room, it’s not the ideal place, but where else could you go? he had to be on the track in an hour, there was enough time to kill in that tiny hot space.

you just follow him in the room and watch him quickly discard his teal green shirt that clung to him. you watched his hands pull the back of the neck over his head to reveal the tattoo on his rib cage. your eyes scan his body up and down, tongue licking your bottom lip like you were ready to devour him.

“don’t be shy, we’re friends here.” he climbs onto the bed, lips connecting with yours, he carefully dips you down onto the mattress, his hands ride up the back of your shirt, and swiftly unhooks your bra, “I want to see you too.” he nibbles on the bottom of your lip, before pulling away allowing you to remove your shirt and bra.

his imagination was short of everything that’s underneath your clothes. he’d pictured every curve of your body, but when you finally revealed it to him it was somehow much different. your breasts were his fascination, seeing how beautiful they were, he couldn’t help but rest a hand on one of them.

“you’re beautiful.” he whispers, half naked body colliding with yours. his skin was warm, but his hands were cold, carefully you felt them ghosting your skin all the way down towards your naval.

you were tired of the kissing, the sucking on each others skin, you needed him in you. you needed to feel him. all of him.

“fuck me, Lance.” you pull away, hand pressing over his vocal cord you say it one more time, “fuck me.” you release your hand from his throat and watch him remove his joggers and boxers before rejoining you in bed.

his pointer finger trails down your stomach, stopping just below your jeans, “you sure?” he asks, his finger moves to rest atop the cool metal button holding everything together.

all you can do is nod, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. his finger swiftly undoes the button and zipper, the jeans come off your body in one quick motion leaving you in just your wet panties.

he licks his lips before carefully pulling the material down your legs, your pussy throbs when his fingers touched you down there, you were impatient with how slow he was moving.

he carefully tosses your panties to the side, hand carefully spreads your legs apart for himself, he props himself up with his hands on both sides of you, his chain hovers over your lips, “what did you want from me again?” he asks, smirk tugging at his lips, you quickly smash yours against his to wipe it off.

“fuck me, stroll.” you repeat, and his body goes down on you, tip barely nudging your entrance you’re met with a gasp when you feel him in your center. the strokes are even, and slow, his hips grind against yours at a steady pace.

his chain is mesmerizing as it moves up and down across your face, you reach up with your teeth, pulling on it to bite from screaming. you can feel yourself clench around him, little moans and grunts escape both your lips, you feel him go further in your core, it’s painful but you’re greeted with an inkling of pleasure that makes your legs shake as they wrap around his torso.

“I haven’t even gotten to the good parts, baby.” he grunts looking down at you, your eyes are welling with tears, lips sucking the cool silver chain around his neck, he couldn’t think of a more beautiful sight to see.

you let go of the chain, throwing your head back against the pillow beneath you, he’s got one hand against your hip, the other holding him up above you when he bulldozes into your clit. the bundle of nerves send a shockwave through your body, his name rolls off your tongue that echoes back against the tiny four walls of the bedroom. he does it once again, this time his tip barely touches but it’s enough to make you whine.

“Lance,” you breathe out, watching his eyes focus on you, “touch me.” you beg, pulling on his chain and he dips his head down for your lips to touch his, “I’ve been so good.”

“have you?” he asks, quickly pulling out earning a breathy whine from you as your fingers dig into the skin of his shoulder blades, “do you want me to get Pierre? your husband? maybe he can treat you right?”

you shake your head, “no, no you treat me right.” you say, shaky hands cupping his cheeks, “you’re all I need.” you whisper, “but why don’t you touch me like my husband would? or should I call Pierre for that?” your smirk is a dare that he can’t turn down. he pulls away from your body for a moment, index and middle finger delicately wipe across your wet folds.

“Lance,” his name rolls off your tongue long and whiny, you’re squirming under his touch, “again.” you beg, legs spreading further apart, so he see the moisture between your inner thighs.

you’re more than just wet for him, you’re glistening in thick cum already. he can’t help the way it makes him feel, he takes his index finger and swipes some of it up for a taste, “you taste good.” he whispers before using the same index finger inserting it inside of you just like you asked.

your body tenses at the feeling of him. your hips buckle as you push them upward for him, “would he fuck you like this?” Lance asks, his fingers bump your clit for a brief second, “answer me, darling, could he fuck you like this?”

you shake your head, “no, he wouldn’t.” you reply feeling him touch you once more, legs convoluting your body releases the cum you can’t hold back anymore.

he’s smiling looking down at you before pressing a kiss to your sweaty forehead, “good girl. now come on, mrs.stroll we’ve got to get clean up before we head to the track.”