#but I know I can never be that Sleek

[tothesolarium]

I got all these cool mech designs, or story filled weird divine metal designs

But my brain

Wants to draw a scary lying pretty man

[boxwinebaddie]

NINAAAAAAAAAAAA? DO YOU HAVE ANY MORE KYLEYB CONTENT? I LOVE HIM

nOOOOOOOOOOOONICA!

-- and do i EVA, dollface!

( edit: the spelling across the board is non-existent. so sorry. you are morally obligated to be nice to me; i have a tumor. also, my apologies for yesterdays post -- it is gone now *shudders at memory* --

i was very manic and upset and the jerseykyle in me that gets angry, really, really is convinced she can kill god...i do think that's still true, but it was very chaotic and embarassing to be like that on the dash.

but if you are worried about the tumor i am trying to have a ( bad ) sense of humor about, again, it’s benign, noncancerous, very, very small, to the point where it requires no surgery or radiation treatment at this time ( i do have a radiology appointment for another brain scan on the 26th so please keep me in ur thots if you can ) and i just have to cope with a lot of gnarly side effects.

i love you and hope you heal. <333 -the u.n.

so...i wrote this weird ~'thing'~ ( i'm not sure what else to call it ) because i was having a very loose and silly-goosed ( but as always, wonderfully and graciously soul-warming ) converslaytion in the dms

with dearest, darlingest teria ( whose work you should not only read and whose art is not only more immaculate than the piss-and-moan-a-lisa, but whose advice, council and conversation i enthusiastically urge you to enlist because she is truly, a little bit of heaven on earth )

and, i don't know, i was doing the silly kyley b voice for shits and giggles in my texts and...it never...left my brain ( is THAT what gave me the brain worms? ) and i had to write my weird ~'thing'~, which is my boy, THE BUOY, kyley bi-atch! talkin’ to the new kid and givin’ them some street-wise, beat-the-shit-out-of-you-poetic advice.

( if you want it...it's down at the VERY BOTTOM -- everyone say hoooola cuervostan ;) xxx -- of this post...i got weirdly passionate talking about kyley b and jersey in general, so you can read all of that if you WANT...but i'll leave the screenshots after everything, so you can scroll down easily and reach it; also...gender neutral, i promise, just girl-scout-squirrely-whirly nicknames, haha. )

cue a future me leaving this here where i left off:

*unfreezes tv screen and a feral past nina springs to life*

also, i am...so sorry in advance for this, bc, okay, look...

-- does he sound like ball bustin', good fa' nothing pauly d, soprano mobstaH? yeah...yeah he sure does, aND WHATTABOUTIT, BETCH?! ( i'm just kidding, you guys; mwah ) but like...is that not The Vibe?

like? he is not supposed to give your rough and tumble ol buddy nino down at the jewish-italian pizzeria who looks like he would rather fkn blow his brains out that take 'ya ordah' ( but loves his ma and his kid brother, and the counter guy got fkn shived, so there he is baby baby;

-- the worst man on planet earth...

…and The LUVH Of My Loife! )

...who repeatedly calls you 'toots', but he's not really hitting on you, he's just trying to size you up ( also, i love you pre-(ed)isordah jersey, the BIGGEST and the baddiest, baby! ah-baddabingbaddaBOOM! )

and he...( quite literally ) wants you to stay the fuck away from him and get the hell out of his shitty city, and, he is THE KYLEY B, BAY-BEE! he's the curliest, cuntiest, coppa'-ist ( do naaaught, howeva, group him in with the bootlickers, or he'll make you lick his...just so HE can call /YOU/ one...like...he is my BF, do you understA-- )

hooOOoo

( i am sorry; he is...my favorite mwob-buoy-bawhss xx )

but...on the inside, underneath it all, really is...just...a fine and truly beautiful specimen, the meaner he is to you, the more you like him...and...you accidentally fall in love with him ( oooY geVAULT! )

that is...in fact, what sweet, sweet stanley marsh did ( he is a genius and a visionary and I RESPECT THE FUCK OUT OF THAT SCARY BOY CRAZY CRUNCHY KALE SALAD KIIIIIIING; like, he really played The Long Game...AND WON!!! HE FUCKING WON, BABEY!!!! like

i have this pre-rm, childhood headcannon, that ( because he was trying not to say stan's name or acknowledge him -- very interesting to me because that is the Same strategy stan employed when he publicly gave kyle the jersey nickname, bc he knew he could not remain detached/unemotional if he said kyle's name --

that babyjk when he lived in south park regularly just called stan 'bambi' or 'sug' or 'masug'; short for 'masugganah' or crazy in yiddish

because rm!santanastan...

( which is what sharon called him, for the band and just to respect his chosen name, in spanish, without alerting randy's suspicions...i will start crying, i should talk abt the south park era of the rm fbs more )

was just this insane boy with gigantic fucking goldfish, cartoon dear eyes who would approach him when no one else would even DARE, was freshly obsessed with him and thought he was the bees knees.

so, because the reader, reminds him a lot of stan...he starts using those little nicknames and i wanted you to know the rm!origin. yes, he does still call stan 'bamb' and 'sug' ( which is cute, because as a nice pet name he likens it to 'sugar' sometimes, aw ) to this day

and i think, almost did it or actually one time with raven of crimson dawn and stan's gigantic fucking sugar glider eyeballs lit up and kyle was HORRIFIED because oh my god, that was a Stanley Marsh ONLY nickname and i used it on this fucking CELEBRITY MAN...like y'know actually bestie, you are a fucking genius…

— that's Your celebrity man.

BUT BACK TO BACK TO KYLEY B, BAAAAAAAAABEY!

who is the red-(H)ead-BIC of NUEW JOISEY, kid!

like my best description is that he's this fast-twalkin, street rat, night life, mortal ( but not really; he basically thinks he's god ) kombative, fucking feral, ruthless palooka-pummeling, curbstomping, pavement leveling, street-fighting piesa' literal gutta trash, or sort of like if luffy from one piece was a mad swole ( emphasis mad, he's pissed and humungous, holy shit ) scary freckled ginger new jersey pirate king

who ( bc i love a visual ) is typically out there, rocking:

a way too tight ( to the point of it almost being threadbare and rolling paper thin; he looks good tho; he's my lil diamond in da ruff ) worn out, extremely stretched out, skin-tight, faded/distressed

( that's fraying and unspooling in several along the mom-mended and barely held-together seams --sounds like a metaphor for something -- with the distracting curly font almost nearly peeled and cracked off ), probably heavily stained ( with blood...and whatever meager, worm-infested brain matta splattered on his shirt when he was bashing some bigshot's stupid head in with a tire iron -- rip; sorry ma -- sunbleached from scorching nj summers that it's almost...brown ) black affliction tank top

some huge, torn-up, baggy, aggresively rhinestone-studded, heavily sequined ( k.b, it's already so hard to see and street hardened, police siren, rough around the edges radiance is already blinding me, please have mercy [ never not once ] ) mike 'the situation' influenced, super quintessentially 2012 jersey shore adjacent ( in that they're very loud, vibrant, in your face, tacky and obnoxious ) faux americana, tattoo parlor-popularized, badly screenprinted, ed hardy jeans ( eyeconick! )

the M-o-s-t ( sigh ) hideous ( and i do mean fucking hideous, sheila broflovski is fashion blind; but she is so beautiful and kind, she is forgiven in every way ) men's size thirteen ( jersey has frighteningly large, monster-sized clown feet ) highlighter green-orange-purple basketball shoes you've ever seen

-- purchased, with love, from the sale rack of ross for dress for less ( where they were collecting dust; no one wanted those things ) and her widely amassment of store credit from...numerous previous returns ) by none other than, my favorite beehive-styling, cherry-red, new jersey hauswife, legendary broflovski matriarch ( she rlly runs that whole fkn house like the navy; choke gerald )

Miss Sheila Broflovski...

the only person who is not scared of the notorious k.m.b. kyley b and routinely, while they're out in public, ft. a baby-faced, mean-mugging kyley b jersey acting all big and bad, will pull him down by the tag of his tank top, go 'you've got some schmutz on your face, bubbula!'

hold down this gigantic, vicious, snarling, menacing, thick as brick, hard as titanium, six foot tall, juvenile detention center frequenting, frightening concrete wall of an eighteen year old boy who looks like he could gut you with his stare alone, like he's a cute, cuddly teddy bear, hawk the loudest, wettest, gnarliest lougie into a schmatta she fished out of her purse and proceed to volently scrub a tiny spot of 'sahwasce' her son's face while he squirms like a feral cat; i love her. )

and the crowning jewels ( or jewels really; not sure if they're real, but they're big and shiny, which is what matters ) duel-ery, which i call that because…

he literally weaves his way through the back-door inner-city system of crime in new jersey through info he mercilessly squeezed out of a coupla peabrained Gabbagoons, uses what little information he could decipher out of those fkn weasel's pathetic wheezes to deadpool square to wherever their bosses lair is…

makes them regret they were even born, beats them with in AN INCH of their sorry life, leaves them lying in a pool of their own gross blood, stamps a big, blingy 'B' on their forehead and browses the shattered, blood-soaked display case and five-finger discounts ( but really, if you just won a major battle or boss fight; clearly, you deserve kind of reward or compensation, right, guys? and by his logic...you're not rlly stealing what quite morally wrong, but rightfully...belongs to you )

...whatever the largest and most impressive ( or not, tbh, sometimes he's like 'ugh, really...a toe ring? that's your big come up?' ) piece of jewelry they're wearing is, sterlizes it, and flexes it it on his body and on the streets as a silent, but deadly warning to all other 'so-called' king pens and 'unstoppable' underground crime lords that

'oh, that guy YOU were scared of? i beat the piss outta him, he cried like a fucking baby, he bled like a stuck pig and is lying in the fucking sewer like a half-dead rat. and if you fuck with me; you'll be next ) and scare legit 60 y/o robert deniro level frightening men, who have been running the game since the crimson dawn of time…

-- Into SUBMISSION.

...at like...seventeen or eighteen years old.

LIKE HE IS A FUCKING LEGEND IN NEW JERSEY. they still whisper about him TO THIS DAY and have to look over their shoulders before they do...like he was that fucking Terrifying when he was out there.

and i need you to know that he is H-U-G-E. like the incredible hulk HUGE. he's not like, this scrawny, gangly, sniveling little ginger vanilla wafer cookie rolling up on you...he is like, this six foot two, gigantic size thirteen shoe wearing, slim-jim-ripping, gum and fist snacking,

NFL FOOTBALL FIELD PLAYER WIDE, like not just some measly, tiny-itsy bitsy football player -- oh, no; you wish -- he is STACKED AND JACKED, he is ten times wider than the widest receiver...he is the WHOLE DAMN FOOTBALL FIELD BITCH, fkn might-o-chrondia ( because he is the new jersey powerhouse of the concrete and hard titanium juvenille deliquient cell, which shakes when he walks, bro. )

tldr; KYLEY B IS FRECKLY, JEWISH, GINGER, NEW JERYSIAN 'THE THING' FROM THE FANTASTIC FOUR, COULD VERY EASILY BODY YOU, OR VIOLENTLY DISMEMBER AND KILL YOU AND MAKE THAT SHIT LOOK LIKE L-I-G-H-T WORK. AND I MEAN THAT.

but...he actually, believe it or not, does NOT...Kill People?

which, i honestly want to say, is stanley marsh's gentle 'post-mortem' pacifist influence still lingering around him like the sweetest ghost.

because, honestly, i think a lot of those people deserve to fucking die, not just for being extremely fucking cruel to jerseykyle for literally just existing, for how he looks of all things, his fucking APPERANCE!

( it's the teacher in me, but child and adolescent bullying, particularly in school settings, really makes me viciously angry and very, Very fucking sad because it causes soooo much psychological damage to the victim, who most likely did nothing to warrant such incessant and merciless taunting -- that was probably perpetrated because he was whip-smart, and therefore a fucking nerd, significantly larger than other boys, wore glasses, has a 'funny', loud, cartoonish voice...

( which is simply...a dialect and manner of speaking that he literally developed from growing up in new jersey and from his mother teaching him how to talk -- that shouldn't at all diminish the weigh his words carry or the meaning behind them; which, minus...a little...or a lot, of potty-mouthed sailor swearing -- which, again, only fucking happened because he was so viciously bullied, he had to adopt a harsh, slangy, malicious vernacular -- is often extremely profound, academic and reflects a very introspective perspective )

and because he's immunocompromised, had to report to the nurse's office frequently throughout the day to prick his finger and check his blood pressure for his diabetes and is often, very, very sick -- which i guess makes other kids view him as weak, but most damningly was that...he didn't fit into the mold ( or, uh, most traditional size ranges, sheila only bought him clothes from the 'big and tall' men's section of most department stores because he was so Large in stature,

like he could not squeeze into child-sized...anything; meanwhile ravenstan has itsy, bitsy baby feet and could probably slide his non-existent ass -- you are so sexy king, i love you, you needed a flaw -- into a pair of the largest sized black pair of skinny jeans they got on the racks of the junior girls section of target...like, he could and he would look damn Good too! like go AWHFF king!

HES SOOO BAD! i need to focus, but before i do~

btw; rs definitely sent jk a picture to laff. he was like damn, i am sorry it won't load; will you send five more from different angles? HELP )

but, anyways, my lifetime horny writer girl max security prison sentence aside ( and pending ), he just wasn't traditionally thin or tiny or conventionally attractive or healthy like most other boys or children and general were..so the other kids, probably ring-leaded by the most convention of the bunch, othered him, dedicated making every single day of his life miserable and made his life a living hell...

...just to have a little 'fun' at recess and laugh.

FUCK. THAT.

because, i don't know, bullying like that, creates what are usually painful lifelong feelings of self-inferiority, very difficult to remedialize through therapy and selfcare, social emotional issues with expressing yourself/emotions in healthy positive ways, militant self-isolation

and ALL of that happened to jerseykyle...and on top of just never hearing 'i love you' from his father, that hate he received from the outside world, forced him the keep everything inside and it's why he couldn't tell ravenstan he loved him, because basketball is just a game,

...but it never FUCKING ended and he could only alternate between being defensive or offensive, there was never a bell that sounded to tell him he could stop playing and that it was over, and return to 'normal', that was his normal, because, from all his overwhelming negative experiences with vulnerability, if he stopped treading water, every shark on planet earth would smell his blood in the water...

and spill it everywhere. :(

NINA, DID YOU HAVE A POINT? AND WERE YOU EVER GONNA GET THERE? i...think so? i think the point is that, these are bad people that kyley kg fucking b was putting the hurt on...and the point is that, because, like i said, he considers himself a 'debt collector' and appears villainous bc of his vicious disposition,

is really more like...

a misunderstood antihero than anything?

he's kind of like a red robin hoodie, if you will, because he goes after rapists, child molesters, guys who hurt women/animals/the weak, power-hungry bastards in suits who use that power for evil and take it out on those who are stricken with poverty, like, he is a violent criminal...but he takes out even More violent criminals.

hot boy shit!

and yeah, he does do it sort of vaingloriously sometimes, for street cred, to wear people's status symbols on his hand and placate that hurt place in himself by being scary and ferocious and making motherfuckers pay for what they did for him and how they treated him...and with all that blood in his eyes, he gets blind to the ethical portion of what he's doing...but, subconsciously...

he's doing it...

— For GOOD.

and killing people, the notion of it, not only made stanley marsh, punk rock pacifist prince, violently, violently sick, but it's also, one, too messy, a lot on his hands ( already quite heavy with his heisted and thieved jewels and video game loot ) but...i don't know? he really loves his mom, you know? batshit insane as that woman is, he loves her to death...and does spare bad-guys because of it. because everyone has a mom and not everyone's mom is kind and lovely like his, but they could...and he's sending their kid back home to them...

...in a [ BOX ].

it just...it didn't sit right with him ( he acts unbothered by the idea of murdering people...but, unless he had to, like if it was going to kill someone else and the only way to fix it would be to kill the thing about to kill them, he could do it, and again...he could do it easily. )

he also acts simultaneously above the 'laur' and studies it in school, but ultimately...what happens to this fuck-ups after he fucks them up...is not up to him. whether they live or die, that is. he gave them what was coming to them...and the rest is up to someone else.

and i won't get into it too much ( A LIE; but i have like 74937403 other blurbs about this in my drafts, i should not ferally release all that insanity in here ) but it's interesting...because rm!jersey, loses a lot of that subconscious 'good' in the process of being 'bad'.

because, after his drastic kyley b transformation into ivy league jersey, he, for the first time, is being noticed in a 'positive' way by people on the outside and he's getting 'positive' attention from them, and he feels...for once, powerful — even though, really, he's essentially rendered powerless and is chained to the approval of these people and destroys himself every moment of everyday...to be in a pretty, and small, and palatable package for them...

( yes, i want k*ll myself. )

but he BECOMES the very EVIL that he was hellbent on destroying and starts doing EXACTLY what those people did to him. and because he is so unhappy and morose and hurt and devastated, he finds outsiders, weak people, but mostly, just looks...happy? :((((

…unbothered, merely existing...and decides

to psychologically debase and torture every drop of happiness from that individual, to make his self esteem better and make him feel like, good, i am so much better than that miserable worm, squirming away, squinting at the light it once basked in...

now it can be as insufferable and small...

— As I Am. </3

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH. BROTHERS, THIS SHIT MAKES ME SO SAD. I AM SOOOOO UPSET LOL.

NOOOOOO--

and they're both brutal, kyley b and jerseykyle ( who, really, do need that distinction because they are...VERY different ) jersey, one, is far worse than kyley b, i don't CARE if he could twist your intestined into rope and hang you with them...the things that jerseykyle can say, as the most beautiful man EVER, Using That Voice,

looking at you with the most disgust and contempt and unworthiness you've ever felt and completely debase you in a couple crisp, dififnued, academic words...and not touch you a single time, bc you're pathetic and beneath him...you can heal a broken bone in a couple weeks...but your mind? your heart? your self esteem?

your once…wealthy, healthy feelings of self worth?

when jerseykyle reduces you into ash with his eyes, when your body was a temple and he burns it down, like somehow, it will make his stronger where he feels weak and helpless or like it will some how vindicate stanley marsh...it is very, very, very difficult to make that rubble into a city again. like...that man will RUIN YOU LIFE.

( pleaaaAasee kiss me!!! pICK ME CHOOSE MESHSJ )

but jersey is scary in a very...bone-chilling, below-freezing, self-pleasing, self-destructive ( but in a more subtle, seemingly artistic, less 'unhand me, you big brute, ya no-good palooka' kind of way...

and, instead, it's this twisted, muted, shadowy…

...oh wow, you...really are the devil in a fresh pressed suit, college student siren who leads boys to their untimely demise, and drains them of their lifeforce in his bedroom they way he would a dry glass of wine or a cheap bodega cigarettes like in a tasteful, snake charmer kind of way...a dark academic, sleek, chic, fuck-and-succubus way )

like jerseykyle is a very pretentious, jane austenatcious, bond villian type of self-destructive...that revolves around mentally preying on the weak/innocent...because he hates himself and wants literally everyone to hate themselves more than him...so he can like himself.

and when he guts you its, in a mentally incapacitant, poisonous, cruel and insidious way, in a...classically trained, philosophical, fashionable, was...in the way a thorn on the most beautiful rose you've ever seen would gut you...or a delicate antique letter opener...might slash your palm open, gash you and bleed you dry...

whereas kyley b was a faaaar less tasteful or restrained ( in that sense but jersey is still unhinged ) destroyer of worlds...he was very hands on, ( jerseykyle will not touch you unless he has to, he'll only punch you if you will not shut the fuck up and touch you as little and impersonally as possible to sleep with you…which is ironic, i know )

kyley b is a very fast and loose, wild animal, loose canon, carnivorous 'i'll slice ya and dice ya and put ya on ice ya' and beat you until you are bloody and unrecognizable...but on the inside...

he's just this...Frightened Little Animal. :(

who hurts you because he is scared you will reach for him, and when you put food in your palm, bites it because he's scared it's a trick.

aaaaaaaaaaaaah....idk he is my special little man.

okay, shutting the fuck up now HERE IS YOUR SNIPPET:

( edit: LAMBORGHINI MERCY, ITS LONG; LO SIENTO! )

GOOD LUCK, BAMBI. </3 ;-;

( just a...branch in my eye. ) i also was worried about the nicknames being a little too...'fem...inine-ish?' which, i glawhSSED on earlier, but wrote this little extra dialogue as an example using all the little satana stan nicknames ( aw ) because i am gonna be honest, it's gender neutral and not personal, he'd tell you, straight up -- my man always keeps it one-hunna and 100% kosh, ketzele; --

something like:

'ya can throw daisy chains ova a pile of cowshit aaaaaalll you want, masug; but no matta how ya dress it up, when alls said and done; and all those pretty flowers keel ova' and die...all your fine exteria design... fuck: what's cityslicka for 'useless, fancy schmanchy holy crappola' uhhh...your...dainty lil'tle 'floral achootrama' or whateva';

gesundheit.

...means fuck awhll in new jersey, 'cause the freakin' se-wer systems! ( manure, really ) like all the people, are all totally wasted, loaded and gunked-up with broken needles, instant spray tan and crushed up cred cans; wow, golly gee whiz, dory. so...you mean to tell me...my whole life...is all a buncha crud, huh?

o-oh, no, shit i might cr--

HA! gotcha, sensodyne! cause one man's trash...is another man's treasure...and you better get comfy and rest your goddamn laurels on a street corner where a prostitute isn't going to give you freakin' hepatisis mauling ya for struting your stuff on her turf...

cause this, outta townie...

— is your new home sweet home. ;)

...wonderful little joint, ain't it? you should see when it's all lit up with gang violence...that'll really jumpstart your heart, sug. it's, uh, kinda like fireworks...if they were fucking HORRIBLE and KILLED YA.

so...and i'll talk real slow, because i'm not sure i speak malibu freakin' barbie: h-e-r-e....in...hoebroken, ( that's where we are...in case you forgot, bamb; don't look so scared, honey; the junkies will only give ya little nibble; not too many teeth there otherwise. or, uh, oxygen flowin' to the ole cranium, they're basically harmless! uh...not him. staaaaaaaaaay, the hell away away from him, sug. aY, YOUSE! SNAP CRACKLE POP! KEEP YOUR FKN DISTANCE OR I'LL CAP YA BI--

basically; v.i.p., between you...and me, there's crap...on crap...on --wait! could it be--oh no, just more CRAP lined from the rock bottom of nj all the way up to the ny-sea to shining sea skyline ( might be our fault, but the fuckin' big city biddies and hoity-freakin-toitys out there can hoof it a little; by that, i mean horse shit; fuck 'em. uh, no offense, bam. ) i shot that one outta the park a little,

ball-point is:

it's backed allllll the way...TA HELL. which, might even be kinda, uh, nice...well, compared to this fuckin' trash compacta. so take a good, long, whiff sweetheart; ‘cause here? everybody's shit stinks...

— even yours, princess.

which—OOH.

es-Specially, yours.

ever heard of a shower? you r-e-e-k."

hEEEEEEEEEEEEEELP THATS MY BOOOOOOOOOOOYFRIEND! look at him!!!! I MISS HIM EVERYDAY; KYLEY 'IF YOU AIN'T MAKIN' MONEY, TAKE! YA! BROKE! ASS! OUTTA! HOE(BOKEN)! BEFORE I BREAK IT SOMEMORE, BREAK IT SOMEMORE...(B)-I T C H!"

like and suuuuuuUUubSCRRIIIBE~

-uncle nina, the gay kyley lGBea(t)in'theshitouttayaBETCH agenda

[leyiorr]

i can't stop looking at her t-t-t-t, FACE!

mdni.

satoru gojo is doomed.

why is he doomed, you ask? well, put bluntly, you, his girlfriend of five months, are driving him absolutely crazy.

crazy is an understatement, actually. insane, mad, mental, unhinged, deranged, bonkers - whatever you want to call it. he's holding on by a thread; the thinly woven string known as sanity growing ever weaker as the days roll by and turn into weeks.

of course, he's only blaming you. you hadn't actually done anything wrong.

you're the first relationship satoru's had in his life, and he'd be damned if some inappropriate thoughts ruin his chances with the love of his life. he'd never been happier - dating you gave him the kind of happiness he thought only existed in movies; the kind of giddiness of a child in a candy store.

he was devoted to you in every way, shape and form - you are everything he's dreamed of and more.

more.

that's right, you were more.

recently, you were the devil's temptation personified.

surprisingly, even after twenty-odd years of being one of the most attractive guys around, and having women throw themselves at him like he's some kind of greek deity, satoru is a virgin. i'll repeat that, he is a virgin. a fact that only suguru knows. a fact that he's neglected to tell his girlfriend.

he may have a flirtatious personality and the ability to charm ninety percent of the human race with one of his thousand-kilowatt smiles, but in truth, he had never dated anyone. ever. let alone got his dick in a pussy.

so when he starts wanting to go further, he's not sure how to bring it up without sounding like a horndog.

it all started when you wore a sleek black dress to one of your dates. it clung to your figure, fabric wrapping shamelessly around your every curve and tickling your midthigh at its end. and if that wasn't bad enough, it had a plunging neckline, giving the world - satoru specifically - an eyeful of the assets god gifted you with. your boobs were practically spilling out of your dress, the light catching your cleavage as you held his arm. he could feel himself salivating like some sort of perv. how was he supposed to focus with aphrodite's personal creation hanging off his arm?

his eyes began to drift to the flesh of your chest more than he'd like to admit. all sorts of r-rated scenarios ran through his head and he dared to entertain every. single. one. he could do so much with them, tease them, spit on them, pinch them, suck on them, put his dick between them-

“satoru?”

his gaze snaps back to your face at record speed. you notice how he's chewing his bottom lip, flush creeping onto his cheekbones and the tips of his ears. his hands are clammy; there's suddenly too little oxygen in his room.

“did you listen to anything i said?” your arms fold beneath your bosom and satoru almost implodes.

what do you expect him to do? the necklace around your neck has his initial on it, and it hovers over your tits almost mockingly. if it snapped, the letter would fall right between the valley of your breasts-

“satoru!”

he's choking on his saliva, apologizing profusely as he encourages you to continue your story - though he hasn't heard shit over the blood pumping loudly in his ears.

it's a battle no, a war between his rationality and his desires and he doesn't know which is winning. his rationality wins when he's around you - he just sucks in a breath and thugs it out, no matter how much his dick shouts at him. but in private, he's letting the desires win as his fists himself to the thought of you, your lips, your ass; your boobs.

the first time he sees you in a bikini he has to take a breather before he can get into a game of beach volleyball with you and the group.

(and even then he was struggling. every time you jumped for the ball the only thing he was looking at was your tits.)

he should be neutered. effective immediately.

it drags out for so long that you finally notice, and force him to talk to you about why he's avoiding you, and if you'd done anything wrong. but all you get is:

“baby, i'm so sorry- you're so pretty and i can't help myself. i didn't know how to bring up that i wanted to take our relationship to the next step, you mean the world to me and i'd hate to make you uncomfortable-” he trips and stumbles over his words-

“...is that it?”

and his eyes bug out of his head as he stares at you. weeks, months of agony over this and all you have to say is 'is that it'?

he doesn't even have chance to respond; to process your words before you're popping the top button of your blouse.

yeah, satoru gojo is doomed.

[eyesxxyou]

First Drink 🥃

🍺・・・l. howlett x fem!reader

rating. m

word count. 2.2k

synopsis. you were everything logan shouldn't want. young, religious, and innocent. you were sweet to everyone. and you've never been touched. logan wants to be your first everything.

or

Logan gives you your first drink

warnings. age gap relationship (reader is 21, Logan is nearing 50) , religious reader, innocent reader, drinking, forced alcohol consumption, dubious consent, fingering, squirting, not edited

↳ pt.1 / pt.2 / pt.3

Logan is far from a holy man. He drinks too much, smokes too often, hasn’t even stepped foot in a church in his entire life. He’d like to think he’s a good man though, one who tries to make the right decisions when he can, but he knows that what he’s like to think and the reality of it all were two wildly separate things. For how could he be a good man when he’s got it out for you, a pastor’s daughter?

He didn’t mean for it to happen. Kind of stumbled into it as one stumbles into trying cocaine. That is to say, he didn’t stumble into it at all. It was a deliberate decision made with addictive consequences. You were his neighbor, a meek, kind little thing often wrapped up in your bible while you sit quaintly on the front steps of your family house. You were young, not too young though. Freshly turned 21. Yet you still wore your modest clothing and pretty mary janes with frilly socks.

Logan was a perverted man. There was no way to get around it. You were as kind and as innocent as any one person could be. You spoke to him kindly, you brought him lemonade while he was working on his motorcycle and all he could think about was how pretty you’d look in his lap with his large hand on your tummy, feeling the bulge of his cock nestled nicely against your womb.

It was one of these days when you brought him lemonade and sat with him in his garage that he turned to you, hands covered in grease and oil. “You’re 21 now, right doll?” Logan grabbed a towel from out of the waist of his jeans and used that to clean off his hands before grabbing the small crystalline cup of fresh lemonade to sip on. It was almost as sweet as you, not nearly as pleasing to taste.

You sat on a small crate with your knees close to your chest. The toes of your sleek, black mary janes pointed to each other. “Yes sir.” He liked that about you, how respectfully you spoke to him. It reminded him of how much power he had over you, how many years, how much authority. Oh, he is far from a holy man.

“You had your first drink yet?”

You were a sweet, little thing, flustered at the mere suggestion of drinking alcohol. “Oh, no sir. I don’t drink. My father would never allow it.” You and your tender sensibilities. You and your innocent nature. Logan thought about how easy it would be to have his way with you. You wouldn’t fight, wouldn’t scream, wouldn’t so much as make a peep. You’d be too entranced by the way his fingers slide along your tongue and his length snuggle sits way into the walls of your unused cunt.

Logan hummed softly. “You wanna?” He watched the way your eyes shifted as you considered it, a world within your grasp if you just had the courage to reach for it. He’d give it to you, all of it, a universe of worldly pleasures. Why restrict yourself now to go to heaven when you can have heaven on Earth right here?

“I shouldn’t.” Your voice is slow and unsure. All you needed was a little push and you’d tip right over the edge into depravity. That’s the thing about little girls like you, you long for a touch of what’s beyond you but you’re always too scared to get it.

Logan stood up to his staggering height, all legs and muscular torso. “Come on, no one will know but me and you.” He offered a hand to you and after a moment of hesitation, you placed your hand in his large palm and let him pull you up to your feet and guide you into his house. It was a world you had never before seen, rustic and dark, smelling so strongly of Logan you thought you might faint.

He had a whole cabinet for his alcohol, bottles of scotch, whiskey, and bourbon. Logan grabbed a bottle out of the cabinet along with a whiskey glass for you to sip out of. He poured some out and you watched with utter fascination. The golden brown liquid long kept from you for fear you may lose your spot in Heaven. Worldly pleasures such as drinking doomed you to Hell.

“Come here, doll.” Logan coaxed you towards him with two fingers as he sat down on his couch, legs open just enough to offer you a comfortable seat on his thighs. You trembled like a newborn deer, scared of this strange, new world you’ve found yourself in. He brought you into his lap, his hands resting on your thigh as he pushed the glass of whiskey into your hand. “Go ahead and try it.”

You looked into the glass, golden brown sloshing around. It didn’t look so intimidating, like drinking Coca-Cola. But it didn’t taste like Coca-Cola when you lifted the glass to your lips and took a sip. It tasted bitter and burned your throat as it went down. “I don’t like it.” You pouted softly, turning to look over your shoulder at Logan. His fingers slowly began to gather the fabric of your skirt, pulling it up your thigh. “Just keep drinking, doll.”

You were a good girl. You did as told, entirely unaware of the way his fingers kept pulling at your skirt until it was entirely up your thigh. You felt his rough fingertips against your bare flesh and shivered as he traced figure 8s into your skin. “Mr. Howlett?”

“Shh, keep drinking.” Logan murmured as he felt up your thigh, closer and closer to your heated cunt. You writhed in his lap, simultaneously uncomfortable and aroused as you felt his rough fingers brush against the damp fabric of your cotton panties. The stuck to your pussy lips, wet and sensitive as he pressed his thumb to your clit through the fabric and began to rub. Logan took his free hand and pushed the cup back to your lips, tilting it to force you to drink.

Logan couldn’t help himself. You were here, splayed out before him for the taking. He’d be stupid not to take advantage of, take advantage of you. You didn't fight it, just as he had expected, like a good girl. “Spread your legs now.” He clicked his tongue and crooned into your ear.

Trembling, you shook your head. “I– I can't.” Your voice, all small and meek, only made his pants tighter. You could feel it, the bulge against your ass through his jeans. Or maybe that was the large buckle against his pelvis.

“Yeah you can. Open up, doll.” He shifted you slightly so that you were sitting on one of his thighs. He used his leg to part yours a bit further, skillfully. He’s had many girls in his lap, none as pretty as you.

Logan stroked your quivering cunt. “What a wet little girl you are. You been thinking about this, pretty girl?” He bounced you on his thigh and let you slide further into his fingers. A stifled whimper escaped you as you braced yourself against him. “Mr. Howlett– please.” You pleaded for your innocence, for your integrity. Most importantly, you begged for him not to expose your innermost thoughts. The sinful way you look at him, all muscle and hair and man.

Your fingers grasped at his wrist and forearm, nails digging into his skin. It wasn't like you were trying to move his hand, not like you could if you wanted you.

You gasped as he curled a finger into the side of your soaked panties and pulled them to the side. Your cheeks began to swell with the heat of embarrassment. Of course, you never expected to have any sexual experience before marriage so you hadn't shaved between your legs. Logan didn't mind at all it seemed, his finger dipped between your lovely lips and stroked in tender touches.

You squirmed in his lap, whimpering. “Mr. Howlett, I…I shouldn't. Please.” His thumb pressed on your puffy clit, pulsing with arousal, and you choked as the electrifying jolts of pleasure shooting through your body. You had ever been touched like this before, not even by yourself. Logan’s experienced fingers circled your leaking entrance, teasing at all the possibilities of pleasure.

“No one has to know, doll.” Grunted Logan. He felt the way your pussy fluttered, the whole thing aching with want. He eased a single finger into you, sighing out a sweet “Jesus” at the way your walls clamped down around him. You let out a squeal, back arching away from him, your nails sinking into his hairy forearm. Your entire body shivered. “Too big,” you murmured, “‘s too big.”

You were small, tight, and already complaining that a single finger was too much. How could he possibly fit his fat cock into your cunt? Logan was sure he'd tear you in half, his precious girl. “Relax, grab that bottle and drink some more, baby. It’ll help you loosen up.”

With a shaky hand, you reached out and grabbed the bottle off the table in front of you. You brought it to your lips and sipped at the liquid while Logan rubbed your hip with his free hand. “Good girl. I gonna keep going now.” You shook your head viciously. “No, no, no, ‘m not ready.”

He cared not for your concerns. Free hand pulling your legs apart, Logan curled pulled his finger from your gripping cunt before sliding it back in. You were all warm and soft on the inside, just like you were on the outside, even more so. You squeaked and squealed in his lap, his thumb attacking your clit in ferocious circles.

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced before, being fucked with a single thick finger. You mewled, mind growing hazy as your hips rocked against your will. Logan knew you wouldn't be able to handle a second finger. He’d rupture your hymen and he wanted to save that honor for when he pushed himself into you and possessed you completely.

You were dripping down his knuckles. He fingered you so hard and fast, you nearly screamed as you thrashed in his lap. “Mmmh ah, ah… ngh.” Something wet trickled out of you and down Logan's hand, clear and dripping. A weak, little squirt, followed by a much larger one.

“I– I’m sorry, I didn't…” You panted out, whining. Logan cooed lowly in your ear. “Got myself a squirter.” He chuckled, a nice puddle on his leg and couch from your sweet show of pleasure. He curled his finger, messaging your soft walls in desperate search of that soft ridge where your g-spot lay.

When he found it, Logan smiled, chucking as you yelped and cried out, a rattling moan shivering up your spine. You tried to slow his hand, grasping and scratching at his arm. You fell back against his chest, legs splayed open while he took the time to abuse your pretty cunt. “You okay, doll?”

You whined vaguely, hazily, your body rolling then slumping, tensing then relaxing. “I– It feels weird.” Something was building within you. Something tight and breathtakingly beautiful. Tears pricked your eyes, wide and pretty, weeping with the brutality of your orgasm, pressing on the edge of unknown pleasures.

And it snapped like a rubber band. Everything that had been held back released all at once, ravishing your body to the point where there goes pointed in your Mary Jane's and your back arched. Shaking, you clawed at Logan's arm so hard you left bright red marks lining his flesh. “Mr. Howlett!”

“Shh, shh, don't want the neighbors to hear you, do you doll?” Logan slowed his hand, pulling his finger from your aching pussy. His entire hand dripped with your cum, sweet and creamy, some slick with your squirt. “Open up, little one.” He teased the tips of his fingers to your lips like he had that glass of whiskey. Coaxing your mouth open, Logan slipped his fingers between your lips and pressed his fingers to your tongue.

You tasted nice, sweet. Your body unmarred by the poison of excessive alcohol, smoking, or junk food. You were clean and pure, untouched by anyone but him. Logan loved it, knowing that he’s the first man to ever touch you. The knowledge was almost as good as an orgasm by itself. You were his, he possessed you. You were his before you were anyone else's.

When you stood, skirt falling back down to your knees, your legs trembled with the aftershock of your first orgasm. You let out a deep, shaky breath, trembling as you turned to look at Logan’s sitting figure. “M–M–Mr. Howlett.” It’s all you could manage to say to him, choking. You had been violated; your sacred temple desecrated.

And you liked it.

Logan hiked himself up to his feet from his couch and stood before you, towering. His hands on your hips, he pulled you in close to him. You braced yourself with your hands against his solid chest. Your cheeks were still wet with tears which Logan wiped away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow, doll?”

You were such a good, obedient girl. You nodded slowly. “Yes sir.”

“Good girl.”

[feyburner]

I ??? woke up at 3am with this scene fully written in my mind palace and quickly jotted it down in the Notes app

*

Clark’s shaking his head before he realizes he’s doing it, and feels a twinge of embarrassment at his own bad manners when Bruce stops mid-word to look at him, brows raised.

“No?” he says.

“No,” Clark says, again without thinking, and again with the reflexive urge to apologize. Somewhere his mother is tutting without knowing why. But he doesn’t apologize, because he’s already saying, “No, it can’t—it can’t be that.”

“Okay,” Bruce says slowly. “Can you elaborate?”

He is, honestly, having trouble taking his eyes off the screen. The mockup design of his new suit is there, dark and sleek, ridged like tactical gear. The blue is like the last shade of evening before you can’t call it evening anymore, the color of nine PM in Kansas in July, so exact there’s a strong chance Bruce color-picked it from a photo. The yellow accents are the cool fluorescent yellow-green of lightning bugs. The red is dark as arterial blood. Every aspect of the suit has been updated—the colors deeper, the angles sharper, the S extending to the corners of its frame—but Bruce has done it without changing the fundamentals. It’s immediately recognizable as the Superman suit, just… well, a little cooler, maybe. A little more of the times. Even the tailoring is modernized. The neckline. The shape of the boots. Where the belt hits at the waist. Clark can tell just by looking that Bruce has not only spent a lot of time on this in general, he’s spent a lot of time designing it specifically with Clark in mind, Clark’s needs and preferences and the small discomforts of his current suit, things he might have mentioned offhand after a mission but never with the assumption that Bruce was listening or filing it away. No doubt the next slides of this presentation will detail all the hidden features of the new suit, and they’ll all be incredibly thoughtful if not slightly overkill, and Bruce will pretend his sole motive here was practicality and risk reduction and respond to any thanks with a curt nod.

And Clark wants to thank him. He will. It’s just.

“It can’t be… cool,” he says, inane. Bruce is watching him with that steady look that used to feel clinical, piercing, and now mostly reads as attentive. “It can’t be—like yours. Tactical, military-grade.”

“Lightyears beyond, actually.”

“It has to—Ma said once, a kid should be able to draw it with crayons. You know? I can’t look like a weapon. I have to—I want to look like a friend.”

He can feel himself flushing. It’s rare that he speaks like this, and rarer still that he does so while being stared at intently. Bruce may think of himself as the darkness, but his gaze is a spotlight: unwavering and revealing and more a little sweat-inducing, for one reason or another.

“Sometimes, when I show up, people laugh,” Clark says. “If it’s somewhere out of the way, where they haven’t seen me before. I show up and I look like a festival performer. It’ll be the worst day of their lives, and they’ve got no reason to trust my face, but when they see what I’m wearing—it goes from ‘Who are you?’ to ‘Who is this guy?’ And that’s a good thing.”

“Hard to be afraid of a man dressed in primary colors,” Bruce says, almost to himself.

“Exactly.”

“I see. Thank you,” he says, “for explaining.”

Clark tries not to show how surprised he is to hear that. Judging by the crook of Bruce’s mouth, his success is negligible. “Of course. Sorry I didn’t—I mean, thank you, obviously, for going to such trouble. I didn’t mean to come in here and—I really do appreciate it, I can tell you put a lot of work in—”

Bruce’s eyes cut away. “No. No need. I didn’t ask, before I…. It was only a first draft. If you’re amenable, I’ll incorporate your feedback into the second one.”

“Oh! Yeah. Yes, of course, but you really don’t have to—”

“If you have any further notes, I would like to hear them.”

There’s something determined in the lines of his face. Clark has the sense that this moment is important, that it’s a turning point, even if he’s not sure why. It feels like striking out into a sea of ice, a blank white expanse under which something precious and vital is hidden, has been hidden all along, just waiting for him to find it. To want to.

“Sure,” he says. He looks back at the suit and swallows, and knows Bruce will see the flicker of his throat and take some meaning from it, and wishes he knew what the meaning was. Or maybe Bruce won’t notice or read into it at all. Maybe Clark needs to calm down, in fact. “Um. I don’t want to assume, but does it… do things?”

“It does things,” Bruce confirms, after the barest pause. “Let me show you the next slide.”

[sexbot300]

‧˚₊•୨୧ Ya know, just crushing on your friends older dad (toji pls corrupt me) quick messy drabble of his fine ass

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹

It just started off as tiny thoughts… Broad ass shoulders, thick thighs, huge arms that can put you in a chokehold… You can go ON. You couldn’t even bring yourself to admit the way this man could absolutely degrade you and you would smile in the entirety of it.

‘Sleepovers are so fun’ another one of your thoughts. Not only do you get to stay over with your friends but there is eye candy to admire every once in a while. You just so happened to be wearing your shortest black spandex shorts that accentuate every curvature of your ass and a cream-colored cropped tank top that spills out half of your cleavage. I mean! What if it gets stuffy and sickly hot when you sleep? Completely innocent!!

This leaves you in a predicament. Megumi asked of you to get a snack downstairs, but poor you! Too short to reach the top cabinet :(

You huff and puff while standing on your tippy toes, sleek cabinet opened, one hand gripped at the edge of the granite countertop for support. Your other arm outstretched, nails lightly grazing the colorful box of candy your dear friend wanted. With every muscular push from your calf muscles, you bounce a little and recoil the exposed parts of your body.

Sneakily, unaware, a presence loomed behind you, enjoying the pathetic little effort of what you decided to call “clothes.”

A musky scent engulfed your senses as a chiseled body pressed up against you. Before you had time to process what was going on, the body proceeded to press slightly more against you, adding on pressure. Your hand that was once extended to grab the box, soon had a veiny, stronger, and massive hand gripping onto your wrist.

What you can make out to be a pelvis, pressed against the own fat of your ass, paired with another hand clutching the indent of your waist aided in lifting you up. Soon your feet were completely off the ground and you couldn’t help but feel something, hard, press against you. You quickly understood that this was him offering a helping hand, as the thicker hand stretched your own to grab the box. By the grace of God, you managed to grip the object that got you in this dilemma without dropping it.

“There you go, you got it.” A rumbling occurred against your back as his chest released the deep voice that almost felt taunting. The voice that spoke was smooth, laced with a grin.

Slowly looking up you realized he hasn’t dropped you yet. Ass still pressed against his dick, feet in the air. Did he notice your light blush scattered across your face? No, play innocent. Staring, you found his emerald eyes that showed every hint of amusement, his scarred lip that curved up a bit and his raven hair that fell across his face. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to die right then and there or leave every bit of dignity behind. He looked down at you like prey, you decided to play in.

“See? Wasn’t so bad.” He spoke in a silky voice, never losing his smirk. You only gave him a look of pure innocence; brows furrowed, rosy lips puckered out, and big doe-like eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Fushiguro. I really appreciate it.” His cock twitched. “But, can you please put me down now?” Lacing every word you say with the most saccharine voice you can muster.

His face only softened up. “Of course.” As he let go of the tight embrace on your wrist, he still held a firm position of his pelvis against your ass. Your toes slowly touched the ground but clumsy you, you dropped the box onto the counter! Still maintaining eye contact with the man that looked like he wanted to dig his teeth into you, you let out a tiny, “oops!”

Proceeding to fully touch the ground you quickly look down onto the countertop to grab the contents. But oh, no, no, no. You just had to be a brat. Slowly arching over, you wiggled your ass against the older mans hard on. Eliciting friction to your cunt that needs to be touched so desperately wasn’t the smartest idea. But the other man found himself even further amused by this, his clothed dick loosely making out the indents of your folds. You finally grabbed the box you ‘dropped.’

You blinked looking at him, feigning innocence while his grin deepened. “I can go now Mr. Fushiguro.” Quickly, he slender fingers dug into your hip bones making you pathetically let out a gasp. Forcing your ass almost impossibly close against his dick, even with the barrier of clothes. He slowly, rocked himself up and down, creating lewd noises you choke back.

“Go ahead… give it to them upstairs. I can then accidentally “drop” your panties on the ground as well.”

You blankly stared, mouth agape suppressing any noise, while he still rocked you back and forth on him. “What’s with the blank mind now princess? We’re still playing fair aren’t we? It’s about time you got dick from the man you practically eye fuck.”

He let out a chuckle, “Sick girl. Don’t worry. You won’t need to dress like a slut in my house any further. I’ll take real good care of you, if you can just shut up and take it.”

You pulled your bottom lip in slightly sucking it, testing your luck, knowing that this day will finally come. “Okay, Daddy.”

An even wider grin appeared on his face, “Looks like you came already trained for me? Good girl. Hope that little cunt of yours can take the abuse your mouth should be getting instead. Go, now.”

Your eyes widened and you quickly jumped out of his embrace throwing the candy at Megumi, Nobara, and Itadori leaving them in a confused state. Muttering some excuse of having to need to use the restroom… for the rest of the night oddly.

:(((( poor little cunt, couldn’t sit down properly for days straight. He made sure to ruin your hole so no one else got to :(

[augustinewrites]

dress + nanami

“i bought you something.”

you frown slightly, eyeing the sleek box that nanami places on the bed.

“but i didn’t get you anything…”

he simply smiles, gently taking your hand and smoothing his thumb over the gold band adorning your ring finger. “allowing me to marry you this afternoon was the greatest gift you could ever give me.”

memories of your little ceremony still linger in the forefront of your mind. you’d married him atop a small rooftop garden filled with this season’s blooms, surrounded by your closest friends and family. you’d never been an extremely sentimental person, but the way he’d gazed at you and whispered vows meant for your ears and yours alone…you’d hold that close to your heart forever.

“no take backs, by the way,” you say when you feel tears prick at the back of your eyes once more. “you’re stuck with me, even though i snore.” 

“your snores are adorable. like a bunny holding a chainsaw.”

“hey!” you laugh, letting him wrap his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. 

“just let your husband spoil you, hm?”

nanami loves to spoil you. he’s always had such lovely taste, picking soft, pretty things that catch his eye in shop windows— a pair of leather gloves, a stylish sweater, a diamond bracelet. each gift is thoughtful, always complimenting you perfectly,

you lift the lid of the box, peeling back layers of tissue paper to reveal a delicate, silky white dress.

“kento…” you breathe, feeling his lips curl into a smile against your skin. gingerly, you lift the feather-light dress by dainty straps, taking in the cowl neck and tasteful high slit. 

simple, yet elegant, like him. 

“for you to wear to the reception,” he murmurs, pressing a light kiss to your shoulder. “do you like it?”

“i love it,” you tell him truthfully, turning to look at him. “help me put it on?” 

your husband couldn’t look more pleased, especially when deft fingers undo the back of your bespoke wedding gown and he sees what you’d snuck on underneath.

but nanami is nothing if not efficient, clearing his throat before helping you step out of your current dress and into your new one, the material gliding against your skin like butter.

“you’re a vision,” he whispers, brushing another kiss to the back of your neck. with heat in your cheeks, you turn in his embrace, bringing your lips up to his. 

the rest of the world begins to melt away, as it often does when you’re with him. but it’s different now. it’s different because in the eyes of the law, you’ve chosen him and he’s chosen you. 

so you share eager kisses in the warm lamplight of the hotel room, his hands gentle as they slide over the smooth material of your dress. 

and eventually, up the slit resting atop your thigh. his warm hands rest on your bare skin, setting off sparks of pleasure up your spine.

“we shouldn’t,” you breathe as he plants open mouthed kisses on the hollow of your throat. “we need to check on our guests— you know satoru gets weepy when he’s had more than one drink.” 

nanami pulls back to look at you, pupils blown with desire as he takes in your smeared lipstick and wide-eyed stare.

he responds by pulling you close with his grip on your hips, a groan slipping past your lips as he does so. 

“they can wait,” he tells you, walking you backwards until your knees buckle against the edge of the bed. “i’ve waited long enough to be alone with my wife.”

he’s waited for this moment even when he hadn’t realized he’d wanted this, wanted you. he’s wanted it since the days you’d shared at jujutsu tech, when he’d been a besotted schoolboy, pining after his classmate. 

nanami’s always been a patient man—

he yanks the skirt of your new dress up around your hips and kisses a trail down your chest.

— except when he’s not.

[wonryllis]

✶ 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝒟𝐎𝐋𝐋? RICH BOY ENHYPEN PINNING AFTER YOU.

目录──────𝗔𝗟𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗩𝗘𝗟𝗬, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖺𝗆𝗈𝗇𝖽 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌.

𝓉𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗢𝗥𝗟𝗗 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗘 ⋅ enhypen showing that you're not just one of the girls. wordcount total 2882 (approx 0.4k each) ⭑ CONTAINS— female!reader, fluff, suggestive, lots of swearing. % strongly recommend listening to ›› the respective songs while reading! jungwon's is inspired by ␥ kavin and kaning. ( THE ARCHIVE? ) PLS REBLOG ><

𝗟𝗘𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗘𝗦𝗘𝗨𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. HELLGIRL BY ARI ABDUL

"shit. you gotta wear this one, angel," heeseung groans in satisfaction, ignorant and indifferent to the fact that all the store employees could hear him, someone who never brings over girls to places like these, going insane over one. and the fact that you were unable to wrap your head around this situation just yet.

it was surreal and it was nerve wrecking. but heeseung was adamant that he needed you.

needed you to dress so fucking gorgeous and stand by his side as his date for the night while he paraded around greeting his parents' guests. showing them that he is capable of being committed by bringing along a partner for the first time ever. that's what he tells you—

"is this really fine?" you ask again, hands dusting over the sleek satin hugging your skin in a way that it tickled. heeseung stands up and strides overs to where you stand, arms sliding around your waist to pull you against him. "it's more than fine, absolutely stunning," leaning into your neck to leave kisses, "and so hot," right infront of everyone, no one daring to say a word to him, except you.

you who has been an exception to all his rules, you who has made him want to do things he has never wanted to before. you who has swept him off his feet.

you push against his chest in an attempt to stop him,"we'll be late, should go now," he hums in a low growl, lips nipping right against your ear before he pulls away with much exasperation almost unsated. clicking his tongue in annoyance for the staff to hurry the billing once he's done admiring you. unable to stand that anyone beside him see you dressed so pretty.

"just smile and follow my lead," heeseung tells you once you arrive at the venue. giving you an encouraging look as he instructs the valet to wait until you seem calm enough to step out. that's what he tells you— heart eyes and odd actions speaking for themselves. his hands find your waist when you finally walk up the stairs, breath shaky as you pass the entrance.

"relax angel, 'm right here, we can leave whenever you want," he kisses the side of your head, lips lightly touching your styled hair. never caring about who's looking and who's thinking what. if only you knew it too.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗝𝗢𝗡𝗚𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗚

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STAY BY ARI ABDUL

"look behind you, princess," the voice incoming from your phone suddenly sounds too loud, paired with faint footsteps coming to a halt. jay's lips break into a wide smile when you turn around in an instant to look at him. your eyes following his hands holding an enormous bouquet of red roses, before you notice anything else.

before you notice the want in his eyes. the want for you.

"jay? i thought you were in— " you speak into the phone, eyes locked with his, but before you can finish he hangs up the call. approaching you with quick steps and immediately pulling you into a kiss. one that's short but deep enough to convey his feelings. "berlin? yeah, but i flew back for you," he breathes out against your lips.

"why?" "you know why love," his fingers twirl the hair falling into face, tucking them away and cupping your cheek as he gives you a smile before stepping away.

he waits for you to say something, to address his feelings but like always you avoid it and like always jay lets you. alas there will come a time when you would no longer be able to deny his love, so until then he will continue to show you all ways you own his heart in. his forever princess."what about that conference you were going to attend with your dad?" you ask, accepting his bouquet.

watching him with a soft giggle as he struggles to pull out a single rose and place it behind your ear. "don't worry about it," in a reassuring tone he leads you to his car. teasing you of a surprise each time you question where you are headed.

asking you to have your eyes closed while he leads you to the rooftop of a high-rise building owned by his family, illuminated by pretty lights and flowery wreaths, and a firework show worth a million.

all just for you.

to pose a smile on your face and to be the one to put it. to be the reason of your happiness and to be the person beside you in your best memories,"happy new year, princess," jay whispers into you ear as you open your eyes to see all of it. "jay this—" you gasp in a trance, gaze hooked on the sky while his is fixated in the way the fireworks shine against your pretty orbs and the gloss on your lips,"it's all for you,"

𝗦𝗜𝗠 𝗝𝗔𝗘𝗬𝗨𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. MEDDLE ABOUT BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"you owe me. you can't keep avoiding me forever, doll," jake chuckles, noticing how you turn the other way after catching a glimpse of him. finding it adorable how you do everything you can to not cross paths with him.

leaving him no choice but to wait for you outside your university, leaning against his black lykan hypersport; attracting unwanted attention while his eyes only look for your cute panicked figure amidst the crowd.

"i told you it was a mistake—" you refute, throwing a glare at his smug face as he drives right beside you, following your every step, nonchalant about all the stares you both get as long as you agree to him taking you out. "get in the car," or the other way round, he's fine with both. frustrated and knowing you'd never be able to escape him, you decide to give in.

"you owe me lunch," jake grins as his eyes watch you get into the passenger seat just like the passenger princess you are.

his passenger princess. first and last in his beloved car.

"jake this— isn't this too—" your heart skips beats at the sight of the dock and the luxury cruise restaurant closing in, scared and nervous about how much you'd have to spend but jake just shushes you. getting out the car first and coming over to open the door for you; one hand holding yours and the other cushioning your head as you step out.

"just let me have your time and i'll let you off of staining my prada with coffee," he begs, afraid you'd walk out of here if he were to tell you the real reason. if he were to tell you that you have his heart and no matter what you do his feelings are not changing. if he were to tell you he wanted to take you out to all these places and spoil you rotten and occupy your mind like you occupy his.

if he were to tell you it was indeed not your fault for he bumped into you on purpose to find an excuse to talk to you.

"but—" jake shushes you again, fingers rubbing against your lips as he shakes his head before pulling out the chair for you and helping you sit properly,"don't think too much doll, just do as i say, please?" planning to keep you busy until the sun goes down so he can take you to for a ride on his yacht.

𝗣𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗦𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗛𝗢𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. BABYDOLL BY ARI ABDUL

"fuck baby, don't cry like that," sunghoon panics, his fingers grazing under your eyes to gently wipe the tears. afraid if he's not careful enough, he'll break you. "as much as i love the way you look so pretty like this, tears are not for someone like you," he has no idea how to soothe your frantically crying figure, slouched in the passenger seat against the expensive leather of his aston martin.

his hands fumble around in an attempt to think of ways he could just make you feel better and smile for him. those adorable crinkle of your eyes that have him whipped.

fuming each time he thinks of the moron who took that opportunity away from him by making you sad. he swears if he finds him, he'll beat the living daylights out of him. remind him not to linger anywhere around his girl.

sunghoon softly cups your cheek in his palm and leans in to kiss you, lips moving slow and sensual, "forget him, let me make you happy," he whispers into your mouth once he pulls away, foreheads touching and hands caressing your face lovingly. he makes sure your belt is secured before driving off to one of the luxury malls in the city, ones where you need to be of a certain level to enter.

a place you probably could never have the chance to enter if it weren't for him.

"my princess gotta shop her sadness out, hmm?" sunghoon coos as he stops outside the building, watching you gape in surprise, surprised himself that you are yet to realize just how much you mean to him.

"come on, i'll buy you whatever you lay your eyes on," he insists before you have the chance to deny him.

his hands rest at the back of your waist, leading you inside after handing his keys to the valet. dropping a soft kiss on your temple when you watch his vip card being inspected with a nervous breath of how elite this place has to be.

and knowing how new you must feel to all this, sunghoon pulls you closer with the intention of making it known that this is how it's gonna be from now, "get used to it, baby," you're not his yet but he's gonna treat you like you are. after all it's only a matter of time before it happens.

𝗞𝗜𝗠 𝗦𝗘𝗢𝗡𝗪𝗢𝗢

ぃ ⏤ now playing. GOOD GIRL BY THOMAS LAROSA

"good girl, you did a great job," sunoo pats your head teasingly amused at the confusion adorning your features. "sunoo, what were you doing there! you don't even have marketing?" the way you close in, demanding an explanation assures him that you indeed were affect by his presence, by the eye contact he held with you the entire time you were giving your presentation.

walking into the lecture hall in the middle of it as if he owned the place and taking a seat at a spot that directly put him in your line of sight. smirking, raising his brows and pushing his tongue against his cheeks to distract and annoy you.

"would you believe me if i said i came to see you?" his hands took ahold of your wrists playing with your fingers as he waited for you to answer.

"liar," you whisper, suddenly conscious of the implication behind his words and it makes him chuckle, of course what did he expect? you're hard to get, and perhaps that's the reason he feels so attracted, almost crazy over you.

like something he has to have, someone he has to have.

he takes a step closer, his varsity hat poking against the top of your head as his eyes bore into yours just the way they did inside earlier,"see? what do you want me to say then?" he whispers back, tone suddenly changing into a serious one. "you can't just enter any class like that," your innocent claim goes through him from one ear and falls through the other. how naive you are.

"i can if it's my dad's university," he can't help but chuckle at the expression on your face when you put the pieces together and realize it. all those times you came across him in places with strict attendance, it all made sense now.

"as adorably as you scold me, you're gonna see me everywhere you go," sunoo warns, leaning in impossibly close, lips hovering over yours,"you should stop fooling yourself baby,"

his hands move from your wrists to rest against the wall behind, voice dropping an octave,"and you should stop fooling around just because you can," you bite back, pressing your palm into his chest to push him back. "i'm fooling around because i want you, and i will have you," "you—" "we have a party this weekend at our summer villa, come with me?"

𝗬𝗔𝗡𝗚 𝗝𝗨𝗡𝗚𝗪𝗢𝗡

ぃ ⏤ now playing. SINNERS BY ARI ABDUL AND THOMAS LAROSA

"jungwon? what are you doing here? are you okay?" it makes jungwon happy to see you worrying about him, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pant as he watches you walk around the counter to his figure by the door. finding his cerulean blue chevrolet corvette 2lz parked in his usual spot, and him still dressed in the armani and hermès set you saw him in an hour ago when he dropped you off at your uncle's flower shop.

"mhm, just wanted to see my pretty girl again," he grins cockily once you realize there's nothing wrong and he's just trying playing around like always.

albeit to jungwon, it's never been a play and you have never been a toy.

this has been his way of showing you that you're not just another girl he's chasing after; because yang jungwon has never chased as opposed to what you think. and to harbour such deep and honest feelings that compel him to do what he has never done, that should have given you the hint by now. perhaps he'll just have to try a tad bit harder.

"how do you wear this?" he struts inside, passing by you to the space behind the counter you previously stood at, dangling a lone apron by his pinky and raising his brows at you, waiting. "your clothes will get dirty!" your attempts to curb him fall through for jungwon's persistence to stay with you holds like a strong wall, incapable of budging.

"i don't really care," jungwon's hands loop around the strings in a way that has the apron falling off making you giggle as you give in and just step in to help him,"idiot, that's not how you do it," you mumble.

and all he can think of is how he wants to be your idiot.

"how does this look? i think it looks so pretty on you," he says, putting a messy wreath on your head. to jungwon there's always flowers blooming everywhere you go, sweet scent overtaking all his scenes believing that's how you intoxicated him.

you slap away his hands in a shy chuckle that he doesn't understand, did he say something wrong? not aware and quite literally clueless of his own effect. by the time the sun sets down, you're asleep with your head down on the counter, facing him. and jungwon admires the way you looks so pretty, prettier than any flower.

𝗡𝗜𝗦𝗛𝗜𝗠𝗨𝗥𝗔 𝗥𝗜𝗞𝗜

ぃ ⏤ now playing. STUCKINMYBRAIN BY CHASE ATLANTIC

"riki?" oh. you're here? riki looks up at the sound of your footsteps getting closer, halting a metre away from him, like you always do, not too close, not too far and it drives him crazy. "what are you doing here?" you ask, confused to find him waiting outside your mundane apartment building with his out of place red ferrari sf90.

"uh, you left this in the car last time," he fumbles out a dior liquid blush, clearly brand new and a shade you have never used before.

"that's not mine," giggling, you walk over to the other side, opening the passenger seat door to fish out the gloss you actually did leave and waving it in the air to show him,"this is mine richboy," the soft sounds of laughter, your teasing voice.

his favorite thing in the world as of late.

you who has him smitten with infatuation, unable to get you off his mind no matter how much he tries. you who never gives him the answer he wants but never pushes him away either. you who makes him feel like a pathetic loser, you who makes him want to try as many times as he can to win your heart.

"it's a gift," he quickly improvises, wanting you to accept it, of getting a chance to give you something. "you're gifting me a blush?" you question and it throws him off, blush?,"wait, it's not a lipgloss— i, i had no idea, i have never—" riki swears, he really had no clue,"bought makeup?" he nods and it makes you burst into a fit of laughter again. it warms his heart, leaning against his car and watching you with eyes that speak volumes of his feelings.

feelings that anyone could notice, anyone but you.

he lets you revel in his silly naivety, content to know you are not longer sad as you were a few days ago.

"now this suits you pretty little face," he says once you seem to calm down, bewildered at his sudden compliment while he walks over to you.

cupping your face and caressing your cheeks,"so pretty," mumbling under his breath, loud enought to reach your ears,"it's boring when you cry, baby," his lips hover over your own as both of your heartbeats pick up in sync, breath getting caught up at the shift in the atmosphere. "let's go on a drive, we'll get you a bunch of pretty glosses to wear for me,"

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @lilyuwon @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @brachives @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly @eeunoia @nxzz-skz @shawnyle @potato0579 @enhastolemyheart @ro-diaries @aaa-sia @okwonyo @snoopypupp @enhabooks @jjunae @criminalyun

[pucksandpower]

Paddock Princess

Formula 1 (literally half the grid) x Vettel!Reader

Summary: when the drivers find out that you’re planning to have a baby all by yourself, they offer to help out by playing sperm roulette … the results are surprisingly wholesome

The buzz of excitement fills the air as the paddock comes to life on a sunny morning. Drivers, team personnel, and media representatives mill about, but there’s a palpable sense of anticipation among a particular group of racers gathered near the Ferrari motorhome.

Max leans against the sleek red structure, his eyes darting around nervously. “Has anyone seen her yet?” He asks, his voice tinged with a mix of excitement and anxiety.

Charles shakes his head, running a hand through his tousled hair. “Not yet. But she should be here soon, right?”

“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Lando chimes in, bouncing on his toes. “It’s like something out of a movie.”

Carlos nods in agreement, a grin spreading across his face. “A very strange movie, but I’m here for it.”

George glances at his watch, his brow furrowed. “She’s usually here by now. You don’t think she’s having second thoughts, do you?”

“No way,” Oscar says confidently. “You know her. Once she sets her mind to something, that’s it.”

Lewis, standing slightly apart from the younger drivers, offers a reassuring smile. “Oscar’s right. She’s one of the most determined people I know. If this is what she wants, she’ll see it through.”

Logan, the newest addition to the group, shifts nervously. “I still can’t believe you guys talked me into this. My mom would freak if she knew.”

Alex pats him on the shoulder. “Relax, mate. It’s all anonymous, remember? Besides, think of how happy she’ll be.”

Fernando, leaning against a nearby barrier, nods sagely. “Exactly. We’re doing this for her, because she deserves it.”

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, suddenly straightens up. “Heads up, guys. I think I see her coming.”

The group falls silent as you approach, your press pass swinging from your neck and a warm smile on your face. “Morning, boys,” you greet them cheerfully. “Why do you all look like you’re up to something?”

Max clears his throat, trying to sound casual. “Us? Never. Just, uh, enjoying the nice weather.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. “Uh-huh. And I suppose you’re all gathered here by pure coincidence?”

Charles steps forward, his charm on full display. “Can’t we just be happy to see our favorite reporter?”

You laugh, the sound lightening the mood. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But seriously, what’s going on? You’re all acting weird.”

The drivers exchange glances, silently debating who should speak first. Finally, Lewis takes the lead.

“We heard about your decision,” he says gently. “About wanting to have a baby.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “Oh. I didn’t realize ... I mean, I only told a couple of people.”

Lando grins sheepishly. “Word travels fast in the paddock. Especially when it’s about you.”

You look around at the group, a mix of emotions playing across your face. “Okay, so you know. But that doesn’t explain why you’re all acting like you’re planning a heist.”

Carlos steps forward, his expression earnest. “We want to help.”

You blink, confusion evident in your eyes. “Help? How?”

George takes a deep breath before plunging in. “We’ve all agreed to donate sperm. To give you options, you know?”

Your jaw drops, and for a moment, you’re speechless. “You ... what?”

Oscar jumps in, his words tumbling out in a rush. “We know you said you were thinking about using a sperm bank, but we thought, well, why not use someone you actually know?”

“And trust,” Alex adds quickly.

You look around at the group, your expression a mix of shock, confusion, and something that might be amusement. “Let me get this straight. All of you,” you gesture at the assembled drivers, “want to donate sperm so I can have a baby?”

They nod in unison, and you can’t help but laugh. “This is ... I don’t even know what to say. It’s incredibly sweet, but also completely insane.”

Fernando steps forward, his expression serious. “We know it’s unconventional. But you’re important to all of us. We want to support you in any way we can.”

You shake your head, still trying to process the situation. “I appreciate that, truly. But guys, this is a huge decision. It’s not just about me having a baby. One of you would be a father.”

Max nods, his face set in determination. “We’ve thought about that. A lot, actually.”

“And we’re okay with it,” Lando adds. “Whatever level of involvement you want, we’ll respect that.”

You look at them, your eyes narrowing slightly. “Wait a minute. How exactly would this work? I can’t exactly pick one of you. That would be ...”

“Awkward,” Lance finishes for you. “We know. That’s why we came up with a plan.”

Logan, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “We’d all donate, and then the clinic would mix the samples together.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “So it would be like ... artificial insemination roulette?”

Carlos grins. “Exactly! That way, no one knows who the father is. It could be any of us.”

You shake your head, a disbelieving laugh escaping you. “This is absolutely crazy. You know that, right?”

Lewis steps closer, his expression gentle. “Maybe. But we all care about you. We want you to be happy, and we know how much you want this.”

You look around at the group, taking in their earnest expressions. “I don’t know what to say. This is ... a lot to process.”

George nods understandingly. “Of course it is. We don’t expect you to decide right now. Just ... think about it, okay?”

You nod slowly, still looking a bit dazed. “Okay. I’ll think about it. But guys, this is a huge thing you’re offering. Are you sure you’ve really thought it through?”

Alex speaks up, his voice calm and reassuring. “We have. We’ve talked about it a lot, actually. We know it’s not a decision to make lightly.”

“But we’re all in agreement,” Oscar adds. “If this is what you want, we want to help make it happen.”

You take a deep breath, looking around at the group. “I need some time to think about this. It’s ... a lot to take in.”

Max nods, reaching out to squeeze your shoulder gently. “Take all the time you need. We’re not going anywhere.”

As you turn to walk away, still looking a bit shell-shocked, the drivers watch you go with a mix of hope and anxiety.

“Do you think she’ll go for it?” Lando asks, nervously fidgeting with his sleeve.

Charles shrugs, his eyes still following your retreating figure. “I don’t know. It’s a big decision.”

“We’ve done our part,” Fernando says sagely. “Now it’s up to her.”

The group falls into a contemplative silence, each lost in their own thoughts about the potential consequences of their offer.

Several days pass, and the paddock is abuzz with speculation. The drivers have managed to keep their offer under wraps, but your contemplative mood hasn’t gone unnoticed.

You find yourself cornered by the group once again, this time in a quiet corner of the paddock after qualifying.

“So,” Max says, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. “Have you, uh, given any thought to our offer?”

You look around at the expectant faces surrounding you and take a deep breath. “I have, actually. I’ve thought about little else, to be honest.”

The tension in the air is palpable as they wait for your decision.

“I’m still not sure this is the right thing to do,” you begin, and you can see their faces fall. “But ... I can’t deny that the idea has a certain appeal.”

Hope blossoms in their expressions, and you can’t help but smile at their eagerness.

“Before I say yes,” you continue, holding up a hand to stave off their excitement, “I need to know that you’ve all really thought this through. This isn’t just about me having a baby. One of you will be a father, even if we don’t know which one.”

Lewis nods solemnly. “We understand. We’ve talked about it a lot, believe me.”

“And you’re all okay with the possibility of having a child out there that you might never know is yours?” You press.

They exchange glances before nodding in unison.

“We know it’s not a conventional situation,” Charles says. “But we’re all willing to accept whatever comes of this.”

You look at each of them in turn, searching their faces for any sign of doubt. Finding none, you take a deep breath.

“Okay,” you say finally. “If you’re all sure about this ... then yes. I’d be honored to accept your offer.”

The reaction is immediate and overwhelming. Cheers erupt from the group, and before you know it, you’re engulfed in a group hug.

“This is going to be amazing,” Lando exclaims, his face lit up with excitement.

“You’re going to be an incredible mother,” Alex adds, his smile warm and sincere.

As the excitement dies down, practical considerations start to surface.

“So, how do we do this?” Oscar asks. “Do we all just show up at the clinic or ...”

You can’t help but laugh at the mental image. “I think it might be best if we handle this discreetly. I’ll talk to the clinic and set everything up. They can give you instructions on how to make your ... contributions.”

George nods, looking relieved. “That sounds like a good plan. We don’t want this getting out to the media.”

“Agreed,” you say firmly. “This stays between us. No one else needs to know the details.”

The group nods in agreement, and you feel a wave of affection for these men who are willing to go to such lengths for you.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” you say, shaking your head in wonder.

Fernando smiles, his eyes twinkling. “Believe it. In a few months, you could be on your way to motherhood.”

The reality of the situation starts to sink in, and you feel a mix of excitement and nerves. “This is going to change everything, isn’t it?”

“Change can be good,” Carlos says, giving you a reassuring smile. “And you won’t be alone. We’ll all be here to support you.”

You look around at the group, feeling overwhelmed by their support and affection. “Thank you. All of you. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay you for this.”

Max grins, lightening the mood. “Well, naming the kid after me would be a good start.”

The group erupts in laughter, and you roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Nice try, Verstappen. But I think we’ll be steering clear of any names that might give away paternity.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the group. The magnitude of what you’ve all agreed to hangs in the air, but it’s accompanied by a sense of excitement and possibility.

“So,” Lance says, breaking the silence. “I guess the next step is to set up appointments at the clinic?”

You nod, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement in your stomach. “Yeah, I’ll get that sorted out and let you all know the details.”

“And then ...” Logan trails off, looking a bit overwhelmed.

“And then we wait,” Lewis finishes for him. “And hope for the best.”

You look around at the group of men surrounding you, each one ready to potentially become a father for your sake. It’s an unconventional situation, to say the least, but as you take in their supportive smiles and excited eyes, you can’t help but feel that you’re embarking on something truly special.

“Well, boys,” you say, a smile spreading across your face. “I guess we’re really doing this. Let Operation Make A Baby commence.”

***

The hospital waiting room crackles with nervous energy as eleven Formula 1 drivers pace, fidget, and attempt to distract themselves. The air is thick with anticipation, and every time the door opens, heads snap up in unison, hoping for news.

Max runs a hand through his hair for the hundredth time. “How long has it been now?” He asks, his voice tight with tension.

George checks his watch. “About six hours since we got here. But labor can take a while, especially for first-time mothers.”

“I still can’t believe this is really happening,” Lando says, his leg bouncing incessantly. “One of us is about to become a father.”

Charles nods, his eyes fixed on the door. “It’s surreal. I keep thinking I’m going to wake up and find out this was all a dream.”

“Not a dream, mate,” Alex says, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Very much real.”

The door swings open, and a nurse steps out. The drivers collectively hold their breath, but she merely smiles apologetically and heads down the hallway.

Carlos groans. “This waiting is killing me. How are we supposed to just sit here?”

“We could place bets on who the father is,” Logan suggests with a nervous laugh.

Lewis shakes his head, a small smile on his face. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. We agreed we wouldn’t try to figure it out, remember?”

“Lewis is right,” Fernando says sagely. “What matters is that the baby and the mother are healthy.”

Oscar nods in agreement. “Exactly. We’re all in this together, regardless of biology.”

Lance, who’s been quietly observing until now, speaks up. “Do you think she’s scared? I mean, we’re all nervous wrecks out here, and we’re not the ones giving birth.”

The group falls silent, contemplating Lance’s words. It’s a sobering thought, reminding them of the magnitude of what’s happening just beyond those doors.

“She’s strong,” Max says finally, his voice filled with admiration. “Stronger than all of us put together. She’ll be fine.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, and this time, a doctor steps out. The drivers scramble to their feet, forming a semicircle around her.

“Gentlemen,” the doctor says, a smile playing at her lips. “I’m happy to inform you that both mother and baby are doing well. It’s a healthy baby girl.”

A collective cheer erupts from the group, followed by a flurry of hugs and backslaps. The tension that’s been building for hours finally breaks, replaced by jubilant relief.

“When can we see them?” Charles asks eagerly.

The doctor holds up a hand. “The mother is resting now, but she’s asked to see you all in about an hour. She wants you to meet the baby together.”

As the doctor leaves, the drivers look at each other, a mix of excitement and nerves on their faces.

“A girl,” Lando says, a goofy grin spreading across his face. “We have a daughter.”

“She has a daughter,” Lewis gently corrects. “We’re ... well, I’m not sure what we are exactly.”

“We’re family,” Fernando says firmly. “All of us and the little one.”

The next hour passes in a blur of excited chatter and speculation. Finally, a nurse appears to escort them to the private room where you and the baby are waiting.

As they file into the room, the sight that greets them renders them momentarily speechless. You’re propped up in the bed, looking tired but radiant, cradling a tiny bundle wrapped in a soft pink blanket.

You look up as they enter, a soft smile on your face. “Hey, guys. Come meet your daughter.”

The drivers approach cautiously, as if afraid they might break the spell. You adjust the blanket, revealing a tiny face with rosebud lips and a button nose.

“She’s beautiful,” Max breathes, his eyes wide with wonder.

“She’s perfect,” Charles adds, his voice choked with emotion.

You beam at them, your eyes shining. “Want to hold her?”

After a moment of hesitation, Lewis steps forward. With practiced ease, he gently takes the baby from you, cradling her carefully in his arms.

“Hello, little one,” he coos softly. “Welcome to the world.”

The other drivers crowd around, each wanting a closer look. As Lewis passes the baby to Carlos, the scrutiny intensifies.

“Is it just me, or does she have Max’s nose?” Lando asks, peering closely at the tiny face.

Max leans in, his brow furrowed. “I don’t see it. But those ears ... they look like yours, Lando.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Boys, she’s about one hour old. I think it’s a bit early to be playing guess the father, don’t you?”

The drivers have the grace to look sheepish, but their curiosity is far from satisfied.

As the baby is passed from driver to driver, the observations continue.

“She has a strong grip,” Alex notes as tiny fingers wrap around his thumb. “Definitely going to be a racer.”

“Look at those long eyelashes,” Oscar marvels. “Those have to be from Charles.”

Charles preens a bit at this, while the others roll their eyes good-naturedly.

When it’s Fernando’s turn to hold the baby, he studies her with a thoughtful expression. “You know,” he says slowly, “I think she has your smile.”

You raise an eyebrow. “She hasn’t even smiled yet.”

He shakes his head, a mysterious smile on his face. “Trust me. I can tell.”

As the baby makes her way back to you, the drivers settle into chairs around the room, their eyes never leaving the tiny bundle.

“So,” George says, breaking the comfortable silence. “Have you thought about names?”

You nod, looking down at your daughter. “I have, actually. I was thinking ... Nessa. It means miracle. I thought it was fitting, given how she came into our lives.”

“Nessa,” Logan repeats, testing the name. “I like it. It’s beautiful.”

The others murmur their agreement, and you feel a wave of relief. Naming a baby is hard enough without having to consider the opinions of eleven potential fathers.

“Nessa it is, then,” you say, smiling down at the sleeping infant.

Lance, who’s been quiet until now, speaks up. “Can I ask ... how are you feeling? About all of this, I mean.”

You take a moment to consider the question. “Honestly? I’m overwhelmed. Excited, terrified, grateful ... all at once. But mostly, I’m just in awe. Of her, of this whole situation, of all of you.”

The drivers exchange glances, a mix of emotions playing across their faces.

“We’re the ones who should be in awe of you,” Carlos says softly. “You’ve given us an incredible gift.”

“He’s right,” Max adds. “No matter which one of us is her biological father, we’re all going to love her. And you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Thank you. All of you. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

As if sensing the emotional moment, Nessa chooses that moment to wake up, her tiny face scrunching up as she lets out a wail.

“Oh boy,” Lando says, his eyes wide. “That’s quite a set of lungs she’s got there.”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa in your arms. “Well, she is a paddock baby. Got to make herself heard over those engines somehow.”

As you soothe the baby, the drivers watch in fascination. It’s clear that despite their earlier bravado, the reality of a newborn is a bit daunting.

“So, uh, what happens now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look up from Nessa, who’s settled back into sleep. “Well, we’ll be here for a couple more days. After that ... I guess we figure it out as we go along.”

Lewis nods thoughtfully. “We’ll need to work out a schedule. Make sure you have support, especially during race weekends.”

“And we’ll need to baby-proof our garages,” Alex adds. “Can’t have her crawling into a stack of tires.”

The conversation turns to practical matters — childcare arrangements, safety considerations, and how to balance their racing careers with their new roles as ... well, whatever they are to Nessa.

As they talk, you can’t help but marvel at the scene. Eleven of the world’s most elite drivers, discussing diaper brands and the merits of various baby carriers with the same intensity they usually reserve for tire strategies and aerodynamics.

“You know,” you say, interrupting a heated debate about the best brand of baby formula, “I think Nessa might be the luckiest baby in the world.”

The drivers pause, looking at you quizzically.

You smile, looking around at each of them. “She’s got eleven of the most dedicated, passionate, and competitive men in the world looking out for her. Plus, she’s guaranteed to have the coolest bring your parent to school day ever.”

The room erupts in laughter, the tension of the day finally breaking.

“Just wait until she’s old enough to drive,” Max says with a grin. “We’ll have her in a kart before she can walk.”

“Oh no,” you groan, though you’re smiling. “I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?”

“Eleven monsters,” Charles corrects with a wink. “Don’t forget, we’re all in this together.”

As the laughter dies down, a comfortable silence falls over the room. Nessa sleeps peacefully in your arms, blissfully unaware of the extraordinary circumstances of her birth and the unique family she’s been born into.

Fernando breaks the silence. “You know,” he says thoughtfully, “in many ways, this little one embodies the spirit of Formula 1.”

The others look at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate.

“Think about it,” he continues. “She’s the product of competition, of pushing boundaries, of taking risks. But she’s also about teamwork, about coming together for a common goal. Just like us on the track.”

The drivers nod, considering Fernando’s words.

“Plus,” Logan adds with a grin, “she’s already got a better sleep schedule than most of us during a race weekend.”

Another round of laughter fills the room, and you feel a surge of affection for these men who have become so much more than colleagues or even friends.

As visiting hours come to an end and the nurses start to shoo the drivers out, there’s a reluctance to leave. Each of them takes a moment to say goodbye to Nessa, promising to return soon.

Before they go, Lewis gathers everyone into a tight circle around your bed.

“I think we need to make a pact,” he says solemnly. “No matter what happens, no matter how our careers go or how life changes, we stick together for Nessa. She’s part of all of us now.”

The drivers nod in agreement, their faces serious.

“For Nessa,” Max says, placing his hand in the center of the circle.

One by one, the others follow suit, until all eleven hands are stacked together.

“For Nessa,” they chorus, and in that moment, you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you and your daughter will never face them alone.

As the drivers file out, casting longing glances back at the sleeping baby, you settle back against your pillows, exhausted but content.

Looking down at Nessa’s peaceful face, you whisper, “Welcome to the world, little one. You’ve got quite the adventure ahead of you.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can’t help but smile at the thought of the unconventional but loving family waiting just outside those hospital doors, ready to take on the world for the tiny girl in your arms.

***

The paddock rushes with activity as teams prepare for the upcoming race weekend. But between the usual hustle and bustle, an unusual sight catches everyone’s attention: you, pushing a stroller with a now six-month-old Nessa, surrounded by a protective circle of drivers.

Max hovers close, his eyes darting around warily. “Are you sure this was a good idea? Bringing her to the track?”

You laugh, adjusting Nessa’s sun hat. “Max, she’s been coming to races since she was born. This is nothing new.”

“Yeah, but now she’s old enough to attract attention,” Charles points out, cooing at Nessa as she gurgles happily.

Lando nods in agreement. “People are starting to ask questions. Did you see that article in Autosport last week?”

You sigh, remembering the speculative piece about Nessa’s parentage. “I saw it. But we knew this day would come eventually.”

As the group makes their way through the paddock, heads turn and whispers follow. The sight of eleven of the world’s top drivers fawning over one baby is certainly not an everyday occurrence.

Carlos leans in, speaking softly. “Maybe we should have come up with a cover story. You know, pick one of us to pretend to be the father.”

George shakes his head. “No, we agreed from the start — no lies. We’re all in this together, remember?”

“Easier said than done,” Logan mutters, noticing a group of journalists eyeing them curiously.

As they approach the Mercedes garage, Lewis spots a familiar face and freezes. “Uh, guys? We might have a problem.”

The others follow his gaze to see your older brother, striding purposefully towards the group. His expression is a mix of confusion and growing anger.

“Seb!” You exclaim, trying to sound casual. “What are you doing here? I thought you were in Switzerland.”

Sebastian ignores your greeting, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the scene before him. “What’s going on here?” He demands, his gaze sweeping over the assembled drivers.

The group exchanges nervous glances, each silently hoping someone else will take the lead.

Finally, Fernando steps forward, ever the diplomat. “Sebastian, my friend. It’s good to see you. Perhaps we could discuss this somewhere more private?”

But Sebastian is having none of it. His eyes lock onto Lewis, who instinctively takes a step back. “Lewis?” He says, his voice dangerously quiet. “Care to explain why you and half the grid are hovering around my sister and a baby?”

Lewis swallows hard, looking to the others for support. Finding none, he takes a deep breath. “Seb, it’s not what you think. Well, it is, but also it isn’t. You see-”

“Lewis?” Sebastian explodes, his face reddening. “I thought better of you!”

The outburst draws even more attention, and you can see team personnel and journalists alike straining to hear what’s happening.

Lewis, caught off guard by Sebastian’s reaction, blurts out, “In my defense, I thought I would get to fuck her!”

A collective gasp goes up from the group, and you bury your face in your hands, mortified.

Sebastian’s eyes widen in shock and fury. “Tha- what? How would that make it better?”

Realizing his mistake, Lewis backpedals frantically. “No, no, that came out wrong! I didn’t mean-”

But Sebastian is beyond listening. He lunges forward, only to be held back by Alex and Oscar.

“Let me go!” Sebastian growls, struggling against their grip. “I’m going to kill him!”

Nessa, startled by the commotion, begins to cry. The sound seems to snap everyone back to reality.

“Enough!” You shout, your voice cutting through the chaos. “All of you, into the motorhome. Now!”

Chastened, the drivers file into the nearby Red Bull motorhome, with Alex and Oscar still keeping a firm grip on Sebastian. You follow, pushing Nessa’s stroller and trying to soothe her.

Once inside, with the door firmly closed against prying eyes and ears, you turn to face the group. Sebastian stands at one end, still glaring daggers at Lewis, who’s wisely put Max and Charles between them.

“Alright,” you say, your voice tight with frustration. “I guess it’s time we explained everything.”

Over the next hour, you and the drivers take turns recounting the story — from your decision to have a baby, to their unconventional offer, to Nessa’s birth and the months since. Sebastian listens in stunned silence, his expression cycling through disbelief, confusion, and finally, grudging understanding.

When the tale is finished, Sebastian slumps into a chair, running a hand over his face. “So let me get this straight,” he says slowly. “You,” he points at you, “decided to have a baby on your own. And you lot,” he gestures at the drivers, “thought the best solution was to play some kind of ... paternity lottery?”

Lance nods hesitantly. “When you put it like that, it does sound a bit mad.”

“A bit?” Sebastian laughs incredulously. “It’s completely insane!”

“But it worked,” Carlos points out, gently rocking Nessa, who has calmed down and is now contentedly chewing on his finger. “Look at her, Seb. She’s perfect.”

Sebastian’s expression softens as he looks at his niece. “She is beautiful,” he admits. Then, turning back to the group, he adds sternly, “But that doesn’t excuse the fact that you all took advantage of my sister!”

“They didn’t take advantage of me,” you interject firmly. “This was my choice. They were just ... supporting me.”

“By offering to impregnate you?” Sebastian retorts, his protective big brother instincts in full force.

George steps forward, his expression earnest. “Sebastian, I know how this looks. But we care about your sister. All of us. We just wanted to help make her dream come true.”

“And create the world’s most confusing family tree in the process,” Logan mutters, earning a sharp elbow from Lando.

Sebastian sighs, looking around at the assembled drivers. “I still can’t believe you all agreed to this. Do you have any idea what you’re getting into? The media frenzy when this gets out?”

Fernando shrugs philosophically. “Life is full of challenges. This is just another one.”

“Easy for you to say,” Max grumbles. “You’re basically past retirement age. Some of us still have our whole careers ahead of us.”

The room falls silent as the reality of their situation sinks in. The secret they’ve managed to keep for over a year is on the verge of exploding into the public eye.

“So what do we do now?” Oscar asks, voicing the question on everyone’s mind.

You look down at Nessa, who’s drifted off to sleep in Carlos’ arms, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing around her. “We tell the truth,” you say firmly. “Or at least, as much of it as we’re comfortable sharing.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow. “And what exactly does that mean?”

Lewis, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since his earlier outburst, speaks up. “We could say that we all agreed to help you have a child, but keep the details private. No need to mention the ... um, method.”

“You mean the part where you thought you would get to fuck her?” Sebastian growls, causing Lewis to wince.

“I really am sorry about that,” Lewis says sheepishly. “It came out all wrong.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Focus, boys. We need a plan.”

Over the next hour, the group hashes out a strategy. They decide to release a joint statement explaining that you had chosen to become a single mother, and that the drivers, as your close friends, had offered their support. The exact nature of that support would remain private.

As they finalize the details, Sebastian watches the interactions with growing amazement. The way the drivers instinctively work together, finishing each other’s sentences and anticipating potential issues, speaks to a bond that goes beyond mere friendship or even shared paternity.

“You know,” he says finally, interrupting a debate about whether to use the phrase ‘unconventional family’ in their statement, “I think I owe you all an apology.”

The room falls silent, all eyes turning to Sebastian.

He continues, his voice softer now. “I reacted badly earlier. But seeing you all now, how you’ve come together for my sister and for Nessa ... it’s actually kind of beautiful.”

You feel tears pricking at your eyes as you move to hug your brother. “Thank you, Seb. That means a lot.”

As you pull away, Sebastian turns to address the group. “But let me make one thing clear,” he says, his tone becoming stern once more. “If any of you ever hurt my sister or my niece, you’ll have me to answer to. Understood?”

The drivers nod solemnly, a mixture of respect and residual fear in their eyes.

“Good,” Sebastian says, a small smile finally breaking through. “Now, who’s going to let me hold my niece?”

As Carlos carefully transfers the sleeping Nessa to Sebastian’s arms, the tension in the room finally dissipates. Watching your brother coo over your daughter, surrounded by the unconventional family you’ve built, you feel a sense of peace wash over you.

“Well,” Lando says, breaking the moment, “I guess the hardest part’s over. Now we just have to explain this to the rest of the world.”

Alex laughs, shaking his head. “Mate, I think that might actually be the easy part. It’s raising her that’s going to be the real challenge.”

As the group dissolves into laughter, discussing potential future scenarios (“Who’s going to teach her to drive?” “All of us, obviously!” “God help us all.”), you can’t help but marvel at the strange and wonderful turn your life has taken.

Looking around at the men who have become so much more than colleagues or friends — who have become family in the truest sense of the word — you know that whatever challenges lie ahead, you’ll face them together. And really, with a support system like this, how can you possibly fail?

As the laughter and chatter continue around you, Nessa stirs in Sebastian’s arms, her tiny hand reaching out. Without hesitation, eleven hands reach back, each driver gently touching a finger or offering a thumb for her to grasp.

In that moment, watching the most competitive men in motorsport melt over one tiny girl, you know that no matter what the future holds, Nessa will never lack for love, support, or, undoubtedly, speed.

***

The sun beats down on the jam-packed karting track, the air thick with the scent of fuel and the buzz of excitement. Amid the crowd of nervous parents and eager young racers, one group stands out: eleven men, a mix of current and former Formula 1 drivers, clustered around a small kart where an eight-year-old girl sits, her hair pulled back in a tight ponytail and her face a mask of determination.

“Remember, Nessa,” Max says, kneeling beside the kart to look the girl in the eye, “smooth on the throttle, late on the brakes.”

Charles leans in from the other side. “But not too late, mon chou. You don’t want to lock up in the corners.”

“And watch your lines,” Lewis adds, adjusting Nessa’s helmet. “The racing line isn’t always the optimal when you’re being pressured.”

Nessa nods solemnly, taking in every word. “I know, I know. We’ve been over this a million times.”

Lando grins, ruffling her hair. “That’s our girl. You’ve got this, kiddo.”

Around them, other parents and children stare in disbelief. Whispers ripple through the crowd as people recognize the famous faces surrounding the young racer.

“Is that really Lewis Hamilton?” One mother hisses to her husband.

“And Max Verstappen!” The man replies, his eyes wide. “What are they doing here?”

A nearby father shakes his head in amazement. “I heard rumors about that kid, but I didn’t believe them. How can she have so many ... well, fathers?”

Meanwhile, you stand slightly apart from the group, watching the scene with a mix of pride and amusement. Your brother sidles up beside you.

“You know,” he says with a wry smile, “when I imagined my niece’s first race, I didn’t quite picture this circus.”

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow. “Oh come on, you love it. Besides, you’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

As if to prove your point, Sebastian’s eyes narrow as he spots Carlos making a last-minute adjustment to Nessa’s kart. “Hey!” He calls out, striding over. “What are you doing to her suspension?”

Carlos looks up, startled. “Just a small tweak. The track’s a bit bumpy on turn three.”

“It’s fine as it is,” George interjects, crouching down to inspect the kart. “Any softer and she’ll lose responsiveness in the chicane.”

“Actually,” Fernando chimes in, “a slight adjustment might help. But not too much, Carlos.”

As the debate over suspension settings intensifies, Alex notices Nessa’s growing nervousness. He kneels beside her, speaking softly. “Hey, little racer. How are you feeling?”

Nessa bites her lip, her eyes darting between her arguing fathers and the other young racers preparing for the race. “What if I let them down?” She whispers. “They’re all so excited.”

Alex’s expression softens. “Oh, Nessa. You could never let us down. We’re proud of you no matter what happens out there.”

“He’s right,” Oscar adds, overhearing the conversation. “We’re here because we love you, not because we expect you to win.”

“Although winning would be nice,” Logan quips, earning a chorus of groans and eye-rolls from the others.

“What Logan means,” Lance says, shooting a glare at his fellow driver, “is that we want you to do your best and, most importantly, have fun.”

Nessa nods, a small smile finally breaking through her nervous expression. “Okay. I’ll try.”

As the call comes for racers to take their positions, the group reluctantly steps back, allowing Nessa to maneuver her kart to the starting line. You move forward, leaning in to give your daughter a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Remember,” you say softly, “you’re amazing, no matter what happens out there. And we love you more than anything.”

Nessa beams at you, her earlier nerves seeming to melt away. “I love you too. And all my dads,” she adds with a giggle, looking at the assembled drivers.

As you step back to join the others, the atmosphere around you changes. The playful bickering and nervous energy give way to a focused intensity that you recognize from countless race weekends. Eleven pairs of eyes are locked on the small figure in the pink and white kart, second row on the starting grid.

The lights begin their sequence, and you can almost feel the collective intake of breath from the men around you. Green! The karts surge forward, and Nessa makes a good start, holding her position into the first corner.

“That’s it, ma princesse!” Charles cheers, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Hold your line!”

“Watch your inside on turn two,” Max mutters, as if Nessa could hear him. “There’s space if you need it.”

As the race progresses, the commentary from the drivers becomes a constant stream, analyzing every move, every overtake, every defensive maneuver. Other parents cast bewildered glances their way, clearly overwhelmed by the level of scrutiny being applied to what they had assumed would be a casual children’s race.

Midway through the race, Nessa makes a bold move, diving down the inside of the leader into a tight hairpin. The karts touch slightly, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looks like both might spin.

“Steady!” Lewis calls out, his body tensing as if he could somehow influence the outcome through sheer will.

But Nessa manages to control the kart, emerging from the corner in the lead as the other driver runs wide.

The group erupts in cheers, their earlier promises of “it’s not about winning” seemingly forgotten in the heat of the moment.

“Did you see that move?” Lando exclaims, practically bouncing with excitement. “That was pure Norris!”

“Excuse me,” Charles interjects, a proud grin on his face, “I think you mean pure Leclerc. That finesse under pressure? All Ferrari.”

“Oh please,” George scoffs good-naturedly. “That was clearly a Russell special. Calculated risk with perfect execution.”

As the friendly argument over whose racing style Nessa has inherited continues, Sebastian leans in close to you. “You know,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and resignation, “I’m starting to think we created a monster.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, we definitely did. But look how happy they all are.”

Indeed, as you watch the men who have become your family over the past eight years, you’re struck by the pure joy radiating from them. Their focus is entirely on Nessa, their own achievements and rivalries forgotten in their shared pride for this little girl who has somehow become the center of their world.

As the final lap approaches, Nessa is still in the lead, but with another driver close on her tail. The tension among the group reaches fever pitch.

“Come on, Nessa,” Fernando murmurs, his eyes never leaving the track. “You’ve got this. Stay focused.”

“Defend the inside line,” Carlos advises, as if she could hear him. “Don’t give them any space.”

The last corner approaches, and the second-place kart makes a desperate lunge for the inside line. For a moment, it looks like Nessa might be overtaken at the last second.

“No, no, no,” Alex mutters, his hands clenched into fists.

But Nessa holds her nerve, taking a slightly wider line and using her momentum to slingshot out of the corner and across the finish line, just ahead of her rival.

The eruption of cheers from the group of F1 drivers drowns out even the sound of the karts. They jump, hug each other, and pump their fists in the air as if Nessa had just won the World Drivers’ Championship.

As Nessa brings her kart to a stop in the pit area, she’s immediately surrounded by her fathers, each clamoring to be the first to congratulate her.

“That was incredible, little love!” Lewis exclaims, helping her out of the kart.

“You drove like a champion,” Max adds, his face split by an enormous grin.

“I’m so proud of you, mon petit champion,” Charles says, pulling her into a tight hug.

The other parents watch in amazement as Nessa is passed from one racing legend to another, each offering praise, analysis, and suggestions for improvement in equal measure.

“I can’t believe what I’m seeing,” one father mutters to his wife. “How is this fair? That kid has a whole F1 pit crew!”

His wife shushes him, but nods in agreement, her eyes wide as she watches the scene unfold.

Meanwhile, you make your way through the crowd of excited drivers to reach your daughter. As you approach, the men part to let you through, their chatter dying down.

You kneel in front of Nessa, taking in her flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “How do you feel, sweetheart?” You ask softly.

Nessa’s face breaks into a wide grin. “That was amazing! Did you see when I overtook on the hairpin? And the last corner, I thought for sure he was going to pass me, but I remembered what Papa Fernando said about late apexes, and it worked!”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “I saw it all, baby. You were incredible.”

As you release her, Nessa looks around at the circle of beaming faces surrounding her. “Did I make you proud?” She asks, a hint of her earlier nervousness returning.

“Proud doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Sebastian says, ruffling her hair affectionately.

“You exceeded all our expectations,” Fernando adds with a warm smile.

“And trust me,” Lando chimes in with a wink, “our expectations were pretty high to begin with.”

As Nessa basks in the praise and attention of her unconventional family, a race official approaches, looking slightly overwhelmed.

“Excuse me,” he says hesitantly, “but we need to do the podium ceremony now.”

The drivers reluctantly step back, allowing Nessa to follow the official to the makeshift podium. As she takes her place on the top step, her face beaming with pride, you find yourself surrounded by eleven grown men, each looking as proud as if they had just won a world championship themselves.

“You know,” Oscar says softly, his eyes never leaving Nessa as she receives her trophy, “I think we might be in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning to look at him.

He grins, a mixture of pride and mock fear in his eyes. “If she’s this good at eight, can you imagine what she’ll be like at eighteen? We might be out of jobs.”

The group chuckles, but there’s a note of truth in Oscar’s words. As you watch Nessa on the podium, her small hands raised in triumph, you can’t help but wonder what the future holds for this extraordinary little girl with her eleven F1 driver fathers.

But for now, as the sound of applause fills the air and you see the pure joy on Nessa’s face, you push those thoughts aside. There will be time enough for worrying about the future later. For now, you’re content to bask in this moment of triumph, surrounded by the most unconventional and wonderful family you could have ever imagined.

As Nessa runs back to the group, her trophy clutched tightly in her hands, she’s enveloped in a group hug that threatens to lift her off her feet. And in that moment, watching the pure love and pride radiating from these men who have given your daughter so much more than just their DNA, you know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, Nessa will always have the strongest support system imaginable.

After all, with her fathers in her corner, how can she possibly fail?

[bluetimeombre]

You, Oscar and Hugh

You and Hugh have stared in the most talked about movie of the year, so, for the biggest night in Hollywood, the two of you are all people can talk about.

[based on the request for oscars night. I had so much fun writing this!!!! genuinely, how Hugh didn't even get a nomination for Logan is a crime! I'm working on another request for Logan and I've got like dozens of drafts but I loved this and wanted to get it out, I hope you enjoy!]

The Oscars- Hollwood's most prestigious event. Neither Hugh, nor you were strangers to the hall. Hugh had not only been nominated but even hosted and you had been nominated and performed.

But this was new. Both of you had worked hard for your nominations. You and Hugh had been on opposite ends, he was the X-man, the Wolverine while you had been staring in Marvel movies since the very beginning, a friendly rivalry becoming of the two of you which came to fruition when you both stared in 'Deadpool and Wolverine.'

Now, the two of you were in the drama everyone had been talking about- mainly because it featured the hollywood couple. Hugh was nominated for best supporting actor while you had a nomination for best actress in a leading rule.

The camera's flashed as Hugh walked the carpet, alone. Everyone noted that fact. They'd assumed you would be on his arm but there was no sign of you.

He followed his agent as he led him to the row of interviewer's calling his name.

'First of all, I wanted to say congratulations on your nomination, your second nomination!' said the interviewer.

Hugh was all smiles, dapper in his sleek black suit and tie. 'Thank you, man, thank you.'

'So, what's going through your head at a time like this?'

'Honestly, not a lot. There's- there's almost too much to think about that I can't think of anything at all,' he chuckled.

'Are you proud of this movie?' he asked.

'I've never been prouder of a project before, and there's so many reasons why. Maybe that's obvious,' he grinned, thinking of one reason he was incredibly happy to be celebrating this movie. 'Not only does it touch on subjects that need to be touched on more, but we had an incredible direction, an amazing writing team and the rest of the cast.'

The interviewer gave him a knowing smile. 'By cast, are we-'

He didn't even have to finish before Hugh was closing his eyes and nodding. 'Oh yeah.'

Almost as if that was a cue, the yelling and flashing of the camera's intensified as many people turned to look.

'Oh, who's here?' asked Hugh, peaking over peoples heads until he saw. 'Oh.'

You stepped out the car like a star from old hollywood as you waved at the cameras and gave them your dazzling smile. You, like him, were dressed all in sleek black, looking effortlessly beautiful as you took to the carpet.

'There she is, the woman of the hour!' cheered the interviewer.

'Of every hour,' said Hugh, the microphone just picking it up. 'Pleasure to talk to you, man.' He hardly waited for a reply before he was making his way as casually as possible across the carpet to you.

You couldn't hear anything over the yelling, or see much over the flashing lights. All you could do is pose as your agent told you to and smile at the right direction.

You were led away but heard your voice be called from a corner. With a grin, you hurried over to Guillermo, the best part of Jimmy Kimmel shows. 'Hello handsome,' you winked, joining him quickly.

'Hello!' said Guillermo. 'Do you want a shot?'

You laugh. 'Do I want a shot- what? A shot of vodka?'

'We can do vodka,' he said, already prepping the shots.

'Let's do it, why not?'

Together, you take a shot and the camera focuses on you squinting and coughing. 'That was tequila.'

'Oh, sorry.'

'No, I loved it. I love you Guillermo!' you call as you slowly walk away.

Any other celebrity might have wondered why the crowd suddenly got louder, why camera's shifted. But they would've seen Hugh approach you in long strides, would've witnessed your grin as his arms wrapped around your back, careful not to ruin your dress.

They would have wondered what he was saying to you as he held your arms, soothing his thumb over the skin. They would've seen the simmer in your eyes and the way his arm slid around your waist effortlessly. You leant into him and the two of you posed for few pictures, offering them like rare jewels.

You and Hugh had never made it official, whatever it was between the two of you. But everyone knew what it was without words. There was only one word to describe the way Hugh looked at you. But you kept it private, he was some twenty years older and not long out of a marriage. Fans had watched you go from co-stars to friends to possibly (almost definitely) lovers. And they loved any crumbs you'd offer them.

The two of you did little interviews, only really stopping to talk to Amelia Dimoldenberg.

'Wait, the two of you are each other's dates?' she gasped.

'Amelia, I literally sent you an email asking to be my date,' you said. 'I didn't get a reply.'

Hugh stood back, looking between the two of you. 'You asked her, but I asked her first.'

Eventually, the two of you made it into the hall, sitting with the rest of your cast and crew for your movie. You all get situated, smiling and greeting any other friends.

Hugh and you were sat next to each other, something every camera in the room ate up. Since the rumours had started, you'd been all the people could talk about, and they'd be making stories of this for years. They snapped every shot of Hugh watching you talk, arm around the back of your chair, smiling and brushing parts of your hair away. Or how you'd reach out to brush his jacket or straighten his tie.

You couldn't keep your hands off each other.

Finally, the event started and the camera's were zoomed in on you and Hugh, which you didn't trust.

'Ladies and Gentlemen, Hollywood's greatest please welcome your host, Hollywood's worst... Ryan Reynolds!'

Everyone cheered but you and Hugh who's jaws dropped. People laughed at your reactions as you watched him walk out on stage, no less, in an 'I am a child of divorce.' and a picture of you and Hugh at the bottom.

Ryan waved at the two of you as everyone settled. You hid your face from laughing while Hugh was glaring playfully. 'Yeah! I know right! Who's Oscar did I have to shine to get my very own hosting gig! Wasn't yours Jackman, as you've never got one, you know?'

The crowd chuckled.

'And looks like you'll be getting one for, yep, let me check, contribution. Hey, win some you lose some, Wolvie.'

You were still chuckling loudly, the camera never leaving your reactions as the actors and crew laughed at you. So, you sat through Ryan's opening monologue as he spoke about each film individually, most with jokes, and most about how he nor Dogpool were nominated.

'Now, my good friends, well, what I like to call my parents, are both nominated for their movie. Yes, applause, please, they're very fragile,' said Ryan. 'Y/n plays a strong, confident woman who is only ever knocked down by Hugh's character and charm. But enough about what they get up to in the bedroom- this film-' Ryan halted, waiting for you and Hugh to stop playfully smirking at him and for the crowd to stop chuckling. He gave it a few serious words, before letting the rest of the ceremony play out.

You and Hugh were called out several times. When Halle Berry came out to present and gave Hugh a flirtatious wink that you gave back to her, blowing her a kiss.

When your friend Emma Stone tried to get you up to dance and you had to awkwardly shake your head.

Or when Hugh took to the stage, getting ready to take over hosting and you came up to drag him off as a joke.

When best supporting actor came up, they had last years best actress winner- Emma Stone- read out the names.

Hugh smiled and clapped when appropriate, but you seemed more nervous for him. A hand on his thigh, the other biting your nails. He was holding your leg, stopping your jerking knee.

'And the winner for best supporting actor, goes to... Hugh Jackman!'

The crowd erupted, but nobody as loud as you. You were on your feet before Hugh, arms thrown in the air as you cheer and clap.

Hugh's eyes, though he knew should be on the stage, fell to you as he pulled you in for a hug.

'I'm so proud of you!' you yell into his ear.

Hugh kissed your cheek, your temple, your hair, anything he can. Still hugging you, he reaches out behind you to shake hands with the director.

You pull away, kissing the back of his hand as he kisses your cheek again before rushing up to accept the award with a grin and a pep in his step.

He hugs Emma and offers her a polite kiss before taking to the microphone. 'Thank you! Thank you very much, everyone,' he says as they slowly stop clapping. They take their seats as he catches the director handing you tissues.

Hugh reaches into his pocket, taking out a piece of paper. 'I wrote this in 2013 but never got to use it, so excuse me if I just change the title of the film,' he joked as everyone chuckled. 'First, I want to thank the academy for this award. To the director, who had such an eye for art in this film, to the amazing writers for telling a story that needs to be told and should've been told a long time ago. It is because of your amazing work I am able to stand here and take only a fraction of the credit. To my agent, who thanks for getting me this job.

'To my children, I love you so much. I hope you think dad's a little cooler now. To my mum, whom I love and know is watching this at home. And to my dad, who I miss every day but I know... I know is here,' he choaks on the words as you watch, knowing you smudged your make up. Hugh turned to look at you and not the room, smiling through tears.

'And to you, my love, my reason for everything I do. You are the real heart of this movie, and you are my heart. My one and only. This is your award as much as mine. And I am yours. I love you so much, so, so much. I could stand up here and talk for hours about how much I love you, but I won't because I want to sit where you are and watch you win yours. I love you! Thank you!'

He holds up the award and blows you a kiss before walking off the side of stage.

You knew the camera was on you as you stood up again and cheered, a tear down your cheek.

Ryan walked back out on stage, this time, dressed in a cosplay of the iconic Wolverine suit. They all laughed. 'Gee, Hugh, thanks. I-I love you to.'

There was an award or two and a break before Hugh was rushing back to you all.

You leapt in his arms as he cradled you close, handing his oscar to the director. His hands roamed your back, fingers bruising the skin there as he kissed your shoulder and neck. 'God, I can't believe it, I am so proud of you, baby.'

Hugh pulled back, looking down at you. 'I love you. I love you so much.' he pecked your head. He wouldn't kiss you, you guys had a plan for the camera's to get that.

Not long after you'd taken your seats, the nominations for best actress in a leading roll were led out by Robert Downy jr.

Hugh held onto you tightly, tighter than you had him. It wouldn't feel right if he walked home with one when you, the real star, didn't. But you couldn't care, you were more than happy to sit with Hugh for the rest of the night, for the rest of your life.

'And the oscar, goes to...' Robert trailed off, opening the envelope and taking his time. He took in a deep breath. 'Oh, my lovely dear, get up here. Y/N!'

Just as they had for Hugh, everyone around you cheers. Your first instinct is to lean forward, holding your head in your hands and hiding as Hugh hugs you, pulling your body into his and yelling in glee. Finally, you pull back and hug the director, keeping a hold on Hugh's hand, you say things to the writers before turning and throwing an arm around Hugh's neck.

You're still gripping his hand as he helps you to the stage, you trembling so much you dare not go without support. He kisses your hand and hugs you once more before leaving you to walk up the stage. The cheers grow louder as you greet Robert.

The man was like your father, after staring in how many Marvel movies together. He hugged you tightly, smiling at you and bowing to present you with the oscar.

You approached the microphone, tears in your eyes as you did and everyone clapped. You waited until you could hear a pin drop until you took a deep breath. 'This is stressful as shit,' the people laugh. 'Oh my- thank you! Everyone! Thank you Robert! To all the other amazing, talented and intelligent nominees, I give a piece of this oscar to you all cause you were all amazing, truly!' you celebrate.

'Thank you to the director, to the writers, the cast, the crew. This story meant so much to me but more to all of you and you worked incredibly hard every day, your talent aspired me to work harder and thank you cause now I got one of these,' you show them the oscar, laughing. The crowd chuckle with you.

The camera cuts to Hugh, who watches you with stars in his eyes, reflecting in a pool of his tears.

'Oh god, who else. My agent, thank you. I appreciate it. Um, thanks to me I guess for being a good actress,' you shrug as the room laughs. 'I should probably thank Ryan or he'll force Hugh to do another Wolverine. Hugh,' you focus on him as the crowd chuckles. 'I am so in love with you. I didn't think a heart was capable of beating with so much love but it does- mine does- for you. All time. I love you more than words can describe, more than the whole sky. Thank you all! Thank you!'

Just as Hugh had, you head off to the stage, taking Roberts hand as he smiles and kisses your temple before leading you off.

Backstage, you and Hugh took to doing the interview together. They clapped as you appeared, hand in hand. Both of you looked dishevelled. Your hairs messy, Hugh's collar tugged and your dress crinkled at the end. Your lipstick was smudged too but you still managed some class. While Hugh looked like he'd been laid for the first time.

Still, you held onto each other with one hand and your oscars with the other.

'Hello!' greeted Hugh.

You giggled, hiding your face as Hugh coax's you to stand up, but laughs with you.

Many serious questions were asked as you and Hugh tried your best to pay attention.

'Y/N you looked great tonight, I just want to know what was the process of getting to look so good?' a man asked.

You chuckled, thinking about it as Hugh hid his grin, watching you. 'The process was... um... I took a shower, shaved just in case, you know, I got lucky tonight,' you nudged your hips with Hugh's smirking, 'I raided my friends wardrobe, found this old thing, it fit thank god. And um, yeah?'

Hugh barked a laugh as the crowd laughed at your antics, you having to bend over to laugh with him. Finally, he straightened up, wiping tears from his eyes. 'Sorry, what a night.'

'What a night,' you agreed. 'We've been celebrating so.'

The crowd again laugh, guessing just how the two of you have been celebrating.

As best you can, you answer a couple more questions before you were swooped away to take pictures, Hugh's arm falling lower and lower down your back until it was reasting above your ass.

Some reporter wolf whistled as you guys went and Hugh gripped you, bending his head to kiss you. It wasn't how you'd planned, but he needed to kiss you. Sure, your lips had been all around him less than ten minutes ago, but it wasn't enough, was never enough.

The two of you took your pictures with best actor and supporting actress. All four of you posing together, when it came to just you and Hugh, the two of you were laughing messes as you angled your oscars to kiss like a kid would with barbies.

Then, Hugh wrapped his fingers around the back of your neck and drew you in until he was kissing you, his lips moulding on yours, hand gripping you and camera's flashing.

The next day, Ryan was wearing a shirt of that iconic shot.

taglist (thank you!): @oatmilkriver, @angstdaddy, @chronicallybubbly, @white-wolf-buckaroo, @th3mrskory, @wolfyychan, @chaimshelii,

[kitten4sannie]

dolce and gabbana

pairing: san x guest! reader (fem)

genre: pure smut with a tiddlywink of plot

summary: san can’t seem to get you off his mind after sitting next to you during the latest D&G showcase, so he has no choice but to get you on his dick instead.

w.c: 3.3k

warnings: some alcohol use, subby until he’s not! san, dommy mommy who folds instantly when san asserts himself! reader, both reader and san mutually go after one another despite knowing one of them is MARRIED (hoes will be hoes what can i say <3), reader’s husband is a dick ofc, misogyny (from said husband), cheating, seduction, exhibitionism, mommy/daddy kink….. (i’m weak okay,,), teasing, ITS BIG BTW AND CURVED……, only praise and pet names (omg who hacked k4s???), groping, fingering, kissing, dry humping on a couch in a very crowded room, one neck bite, san cums untouched, oral (receiving), squirting, one singular pussy slap, san puts reader into a mating press on her husband’s side of the bed just for funsies, manhandling, size kink, breeding kink, creampies (sannie cums a lotttt)

a/n: as a pudding since day 1 i am in absolute shambles thanks for asking <3 and YES im very aware i posted yesterday but the fic demons cannot be silenced!!! and just fyi i’m sure san was very grateful and absolutely brimming with excitement to be at the show!! the way i wrote him here does not reflect his actual feelings towards anything,, its just a silly fic and i wrote what i wanted lol. also i wish i could tell you how many times “dolce and gabbana that’s on my titties~” played in my head while i typed this out 😭😭 (also i did not proofread this whatsoever so forgive me if there are errors) but anyways, i hope you enjoy :33

song recs: la romana by bad bunny, rover by kai, planet goddamn by mac miller

San knew eyes would be on him. Why wouldn’t they be? He was dressed to the nines, his hair slicked back to showcase his alluring, feline-like eyes, his sharp, angular features that could give someone a fatal cut if they looked for too long, and most importantly, he was all decked out in a sleek black custom-made top that perfectly adorned his broad shoulders and chest, one that even cinched securely around his impossibly tiny waist. Of course it did. It had been custom fit and made just for his body. Even the tailor had jokingly mentioned that Michelangelo himself must’ve sculpted him to perfection in the heavens before San was born, but San wasn’t laughing. He perfected his body through his own sheer willpower and determination alone, to be the best that he could be for his own self — and if people just so happened to drool over the results of his hard work, then that was simply a perk.

Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the many camera flashes, he continued to make his way down the walkway, offering many of the starstruck guests a courteous, though charming smile, wondering if their wandering gazes were due to his breathtaking ensemble or what was sitting just below it. The thought tickled him. It continued to amuse him throughout the afternoon, taking picture after picture with eager guests and wealthy tycoons alike, quite pleased with himself when neither man nor woman could seem to control themselves around him, their eyes always drifting downwards to look San up and down like he were next up in an auction, their mouths pressed to their champagne flutes in an effort to quell the thirst they felt, their free hands lingering just a little too long on the small of his back when they bid farewell to him.

San relished the fact that these poor starving individuals could never get a taste of him, no matter how incredibly rich or influential they were. None of them would get a bite of the forbidden fruit without permission from God.

It was then that the show started, various eye-catching models sashaying their way across the aisle to showcase the latest D&G collection, all displaying their own unique set of features and charm. All flawless and angelic in their own right, but they were almost predictable in that way — like mannequins made solely for the rich and beautiful to gawk at. San couldn’t help but look past them, only focusing on the expensive, tailor made clothes that were framing their perfect bodies. And after a while, he almost seemed to grow bored. Of what, exactly? He wasn’t sure. Maybe it was the sheer gaudiness of it all, the lack of self awareness for things that really mattered in the modern world, and the almost nauseating amount of self-sucking the rich individuals around him seemed to be fond of doing. San would’ve pondered it more when somebody near him gently patted his thigh, causing him to look down at the small manicured hand, the diamond ring around your finger glinting in the light like a warning sign.

“Are you bored like I am?” you whispered softly into his ear from beside him, giving him a quaint smile when he turned his head to face you.

San blushed, leaning slightly in your direction. “Am I that obvious?”

“No, don’t worry. None of these drones will be able to notice.” You motioned your head to the crowd around you, their phones in hand, all whispering to each other about how revolutionary the new collection was, despite it looking eerily similar to the fall one from the year before. “You could whip your cock out and no one would bat an eye.”

��Oh?” San studied your flirtatious smile, then looked down just to make sure his eyes hadn’t deceived him. Yep, the ring was still there — and it probably cost more than a starter house. Delighted by your forwardness, San took it upon himself to tease you, reaching down to slowly unbutton his slim-fitted pants. “Well, if that’s the case…”

Your cheeks turning bright red, you reached downwards to shield his crotch from view, looking up at him with wide eyes, your faces now impossibly close. “I-i was fucking with you! Don’t actually take out your dick…”

San’s sharpened eyes flitted from your gaze to your cherry red lips, letting go of his zipper to gently take your hand in his, pressing it firmly down onto his thigh. “Yet…?” he challenged huskily, wondering if you were like all the others and would yank your hand back, scoff in disgust, and pretend as if it had never happened. It was then that San felt you squeeze your warm hand into the meat of his thigh, your fingers just barely pressing into the inseam of his pants.

“You can be a good boy and wait till the after party, can’t you?” you asked in a lower, sultrier tone, pressing your lips to his cheek to leave your mark on him, your hand moving further up his thigh, only pulling away when you felt something hard press into your palm. Smiling sweetly, you leaned in again, this time allowing your lips to brush over his. “Good things come to those who wait.”

And just like that, you turned forward to focus on the models all gathering onto the stage at once along with the designers, clapping along with the rest of the crowd when they all took a bow. You blew a kiss to one of the designers who caught it and pretended to put it in his pocket.

Still breathless from your short encounter, San nudged your thigh with his own, biting into his lip and tasting the sweetness of your lipstick. You nudged him back, glancing at him through the corner of yours eyes, licking at your own lips, like a predator would before pouncing on their prey.

San couldn’t believe he had finally met someone like you. There was a serpent in his garden — and he couldn’t wait for it to swallow him up.

-

The after party was predictable as always — strangers binge drinking and snorting powder off of your previously pristine marble tabletops, others telling embellished stories about their latest trip to their private islands to various locked-in acquaintances, some off doing god knows what in your many empty guest rooms, and you could not, for the life of you, care about what your husband was currently cackling over with his close friends, focusing on the crackling wood sitting inside the fireplace you were all huddled near. When you inevitably ran out of champagne, you patted your husband’s leg so that he could remove his arm from your waist.

He looked down at you with indifference. “What is it?”

“I need more champagne, honey. I’m going to get some.”

Your husband’s face scrunched up. “Haven’t you had enough? If you drink anymore, you’re going to lose your nice figure.” He looked to his friends for validation who simply nodded along in agreement.

Your husband’s chauvinistic comments didn’t bother you anymore, just his persistent presence in your life. He was like a mosquito that was always trying to drain you, one that you could never seem to swat away. Well, nothing a little dick couldn’t fix. “That’s funny, because I seem to recall the tailor coming in this morning for an emergency visit to alter a certain suit,” you mentioned, this time pushing your husband’s arm away from you, surveying his now quiet friends with an unbothered look, before wandering off, not registering the insecurity driven ramblings that your husband was sending your way.

Once you made your way into the crowded loft, you searched your surroundings for what you were looking for, humming at the sight of the pretty boy from earlier sitting on the large plush couch in the corner, a half-empty champagne flute in hand, his attention on one of the models that had walked for your husband’s collection a few hours earlier. He was even more handsome now that you could study his captivating details, your eyes drifting over his bulky frame, from his large arms and shoulders, to his delicate waist, and down to his spread thighs, zeroing in on what was between them, knowing that the beautiful stranger was blessed in more ways than one based off what you had felt earlier.

Without hesitation, you slowly made your way across the room, your stiletto heels digging into the fur carpet below with each concentrated step, licking your red lips when the model placed one of her hands on San’s thighs and squeezed it, his suddenly submissive expression causing more knots to form within your core. You were going to make him yours.

San could barely hear the pretty model’s words over the loud music and the many overlapping voices inside the loft, not knowing what to say when she moved closer to him, clearly going in for the kill. It was then that someone stood over him, their heel nudging into his loafer. He looked up, his once hazy eyes opening wide at the sight of you standing above him with a bottle of champagne in one hand, your other hand already cradling his face. “M-miss…there you are…”

“Here I am,” you purred, running your fingers along his jaw, satisfied with the fact that your lipstick print was still visible on his tan skin.

San gulped, just about spilling the drink he was still holding onto, unknowingly spreading his thighs open further, as if he was giving you an unspoken invitation to climb onto his lap.

Humming, you lowered yourself into his lap, your plush thighs and ass pressing snuggly against his lower half. “Look at you,” you cooed softly into San’s ear, not caring to give the now fuming model any attention, lowering the cold champagne bottle in between your bodies, chuckling at the soft whimper he let out when it pressed into the exposed sections of his skin. “You’re such a good boy, saving a seat for Mommy like this. Aren’t you, baby?”

“Y-yes, I am, s-so good for you…”

“Then, be good and open your mouth,” you purred, lifting the almost empty bottle and pouring some into your mouth. San’s jaw slowly dropped, not knowing that he was already beginning to drool. You didn’t mind, clutching the sides of his heated face and pressing your parted lips onto his, transferring the sparkling alcohol to him, but not without running your tongue over his.

San brought his hands up near the sides of your ass, his fingers trembling, not knowing if he was allowed to touch you, whimpering into your mouth when you sucked the alcohol off of his tongue.

“You can touch, baby.” You reached for his wrists and brought his hands underneath the hem of your short dress, gasping when he squeezed the softness of your ass in between his ringed fingers and began to slowly guide your hips, your clothed cunt rubbing back and forth over his stiffening cock. “Mm, someone’s eager, hm? You’re a naughty one, making the main designer’s wife grind on your cock like this in front of everyone.”

“It’s…Mommy’s fault…” San murmured near your ear, rolling his own hips up into yours, making you feel every inch of his trapped throbbing cock each time he ground himself into you, biting into his lip at the sound of your breathless moans, swearing he saw your grimacing husband from over your shoulder.

“My fault, huh? Mommy should make up for it, shouldn’t she?” you sighed back onto his heated skin, pressing kiss after kiss onto his collarbones, dragging your tongue along the constellation of freckles he had on his neck, making him shudder underneath you.

“Uh-huh…” San moaned out, your hand suddenly squeezing into and sliding back and forth over his erection, your thumb repeatedly rubbing over the pronounced tip, knowing he was staining his expensive pants with sticky pre-cum. “F-fuck, I’ll cum if you keep doing that…”

“So sensitive, baby, you’re so cute…but you’re not the only one, you know? Look what you did to Mommy~” You gave his balls a gentle squeeze just to hear him whimper, before letting go, instead reaching for his hand again and leading it between your legs, moving your soaked panties to the side just in time for San to fill you up with two thick fingers.

“You’re so wet…” San groaned, unable to keep himself from adding another digit inside your slick hole, beginning to pump them in and out of you, allowing the both of you to listen to the obscene squelching sounds your cunt made each time he finger-fucked you. Something switched inside of San when you began to whine and whimper, and fuck yourself back on his fingers, your eyebrows screwed upwards, begging him for more with your teary, half-closed eyes. “So fucking wet just for me, huh? Hey, Miss, did you know your husband is standing just across the room? Think he’s hard knowing I just got his pretty little wife wetter than she’s been in her entire life?”

“B-baby, don’t tease me like that,” you whispered, not wanting the control you had over him to slip out of your grasp, grabbing onto his shoulders, accidentally causing pieces of his solid outfit to fall off and land onto the leather couch.

“It’s San, Miss, but you can call me Sannie if you wanna be a good girl for me,” he chuckled, shoving his fingers into you up to the knuckles, rolling your clit around underneath his heavy thumb. “And, I’m not teasing you, my love, he’s really watching us, and he looks like he wants to kill me.”

Just as you looked behind you to catch your husband’s displeased gaze, San began to ram his soaked digits into your spasming cunt, feeling his lips, tongue, and teeth on your neck. “O-oh my god, Sannie, oh, fuckkkk…”

Just as your warm arousal began to pour out onto his fingers and lap, San bit down into the area where your neck and collarbone connected, letting out a few stunted groans, his hips jolting up into yours, coating the insides of his designer pants with white.

“Did you just…?” you began, before San stuffed his fingers into your mouth, growing quiet and sucking your arousal off of them. He pulled them out with a pop, but you didn’t even get the chance to continue your question because you were suddenly being lifted up into the air, strong hands clutching your thighs, your legs hooked around San’s waist.

Your defeated, emasculated husband was just a blur when San carried you through the crowded room and up the stairs, not stopping until he got to the largest room at the end of the expansive hallway.

“Which side does your husband sleep on?” San asked, once he stood at the foot of the kingsized bed.

“On the right. Why do you–O-oh,” you gasped as he quickly laid you out on the right side of the bed and lifted your dress up, forcefully spreading your thighs open so that he could bury his face in your cunt, repeatedly lapping at your slit and clit over your soaked panties until he couldn’t take it, reaching up to tear your panties off with ease. “Sannie, baby boy, what’s gotten into you?”

San looked up at you with dark, dilated eyes, reaching up to his broad body to rip off the rest of his outfit, his solid muscles flexing as he closed his fingers around your waist, yanking you lower so that your cunt was closer to his face, looking like he was about to eat you alive. “Daddy’s hungry,” he simply replied, diving back into your cunt to lick and slurp up your juices, tonguing your hole just to feel you clench around him, his nose nudging your clit as he ate you out like a starved man.

Sooner or later, you began to shudder and pant, tugging at the ends of San’s sweaty hair, your thighs pressing into the sides of his head until he forcefully held them down, quickly moving his head up and down as he dragged his tongue roughly over your throbbing clit, his focused eyes never leaving yours. “S-sannie, I’m really, fuck– I’m gonna cum…!”

“Cum for Daddy,” he demanded gruffly, stuffing three fingers into your cunt and pounding them into your g-spot, lifting your ass up with his other hand so that he could catch the stream of arousal that suddenly squirted out of you, some of it inevitably soaking into the satin sheets below you. San licked your juices from his lips, going down to give your puffy cunt one last lick to savor your taste, before standing up from the bed and unbuckling his pants.

“Y-you….Did you get possessed by a demon?” you asked half-jokingly, unable to keep your thighs from trembling, wiping the sweat from your forehead with the back of your wrist.

“And if I did? You’d still let me fuck you, wouldn’t you?” San smiled devilishly, his dimples appearing, kicking off his pants and running his closed hand along his curved, dripping length. He pressed his thighs against the side of the bed, running the tip of his cock over your lips, watching fondly as you sucked and licked the beads of pre-cum that leaked from the slit.

“I would.” Lifting yourself up so that you could completely rid yourself of your disheveled dress, you reached up for the handsome stranger, licking the saltiness from your lips. “Now, come here and show Mommy just how much Daddy wants her.”

San wasted no time climbing back onto the bed and folding you up into a mating press, leaning back to send a few wads of spit onto your cunt, smacking his hand against the wetness for good measure, before he plunged himself deep inside you.

You just about screamed, not ready for San’s unusual size and shape, the curve of his cock rubbing deliciously along your tightening walls each time he pounded himself into you. “S–ann–ie…! It’s so big, fuck– so good!”

“Aww, poor baby’s never had a big cock stretching out her pretty pussy before, huh?” San cooed into your ear, pulling all the way out, just to slam himself back in, hitting your g-spot dead on, making you cry out deliriously. “You’ll never be able to go back to your husband after this. You’re gonna be begging for me to take care of you from now on….” San pressed his lips against yours, sucking on your tongue as you moaned out for him. “Want you to cum for me again, baby…Squirt on my cock, okay?”

“S-Sannie, it’s too much,” you whined out, dragging your nails down his broad back, your toes curling just as San punched your next orgasm out of you when his curved cock once again came in contact with your g-spot.

As you began to cry from the overwhelming pleasure, San licked your tears away, gently pressing his lips into your cheek and jaw, shushing you. “Don’t worry, baby. Daddy’s here for you.” He clutched you close, holding still inside you, as his cock began to twitch. “Here it comes, princess, just for you.” A hot, creamy stream of cum began to shoot out into you, completely drenching your insides with his load.

You could hardly speak at this point in time, solely concentrated on the pleasure that still had a hold on your sore body and the warmth that was filling you up to the brim, suddenly realizing that your husband really wasn’t going to be happy with you. “Y-you shouldn’t have…nnnngh….”

San continued to roll his hips into you, his eyelids fluttering, groans spilling from his throat, your cunt still milking his pulsing cock for all it had, which was a lot, to say the least. Once there was nothing left to give you, San leaned down, pressing one last kiss to your lips, not caring that you had left your lipstick all over him. “Can I ask you something, baby?”

“Y-yes, San?”

San smiled, his glossy brown eyes glistening in the light. “When you have my baby, will you have the heart to tell your poor husband that it’s actually mine?”

Panting heavily and trying to process what the handsome stranger just said, you finally came to the realization that you let someone who didn’t even know your name possibly impregnate you. Well, at least you had something to talk about over breakfast with your husband, rather than hear him go on and on about his latest collection.

“I’m not sure about that one…”

“Can I ask you one more question?”

“Hm?”

“Should I name our baby Dolce or Gabbana?”

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© kitten4sannie, 2024.

[peachesofteal]

ghoap x reader / 18+ mdni / dark themes / masterlist

It’s the sundress. 

The way it flows off your hips, your body moving beneath it, skin glowing just under the hem. You're lucent in it, radiant in a way he's never seen, brilliance so stunning it catches his breath. You’re a perfect peach, juicy and ripe, plump and sumptuous, skin so soft he’d only need a nip to tear into it, the barest bruise of pressure allowing him to drink his fill of precious honeyed nectar. 

There are dozens of people in the café, but he only sees you, can’t tear his gaze away, sick with the heavy tug in his heart, drawing him closer and closer, fingers tense around the flimsy paper cup. He stares, openly, even after Simon clears his throat, scuffs his foot against the sidewalk, says his name. 

Johnny has no patience for a kill, or a meal. He likes to rip into fresh things, soak his maw and stretch his jaw around them, swallow them whole if he can.

Swallow you whole, if he can.

A bead of sweat collects at the back of your neck, and he traces its path between your shoulder blades and below, mouth watering at the singular thought of a taste. 

His tongue licking down your spine to the cleft of your arse, soft, sweet skin parted for him, face crammed between your legs, panting, pushing, desperate for more, and more, and- 

“Johnny.”  

“Pretty thing.” He barely looks at his partner, the heat simmering in his stomach curling into a snare. “Little pocket a’ sunshine.” 

“Johnny.” 

“Ye see ‘er?” Simon’s eyes dig into him, and then you, following the seam of your dress from thigh to shoulder. There’s insatiable insanity in his face, and Johnny knows- 

He sees it too. 

“I do.” 

“Ye dinnae want a taste?” 

“Not enough time.” He nods next door, where the darkness looms, waits for them expectantly. A meeting, a negotiation, a riotous push and pull. The things he’s good at, the part of his job that doesn’t include intimidating or killing or orchestrating a disturbance. 

His hands sow choreographed chaos, but in this moment, he’d rather they do something else instead. 

Pin you down. Pry your thighs wide. Bury his face in your cunt. Would you struggle? Would you cry? Would you take it like a good girl, breathy and sweet, lips shocked into a perfect O for his thumb, pad of it pressed down on your tongue, taste- 

“Better think fast.�� Simon warns, jolting him from the fantasy that has his cock swelling, and when he sees you heading for the door, dreamy smile on your face, iced latte precarious in your grip, a plan roars to life. 

It’s easy, to pretend it’s an accident. Easy to act shocked and embarrassed. Easy, to feel terrible about ruining your dress. 

Your gasp is music to his ears. 

“Oh my god-“ it’s almost too much, watching the crushing realization sink in across your features, the dismay at the sight of your newly acquired caffeine fix rushing down the front of your sunflower dotted dress. 

They’ll buy you a new one. They’ll buy you hundreds. 

“’m so sorry.” He croons, reaching to steady you, carefully gripping your elbow under the guise of balance. “Ah, bonnie. ‘m so sorry, I didnae see ye and I was rushin’.” 

“It’s… it’s okay.” You’re blinking too fast, trying to hold back tears, trying to keep yourself together. The patchwork, the glue and tape, parts and pieces easily crumble, even as you try to take a deep breath. “I’m… it’s fine.” 

“Yer dress is ruined.” Obviously. “Let me pay to get it cleaned, at least.” 

“No, no… that’s… it’s okay. I’ll… I’ll just run home, no big deal.” He beats back the burn, the wildfire scorching away the last of his sanity. 

“Please.” Simon chimes in over his shoulder. “It’s the least we can do.” You look between them, confused, eyes wide like a little doe, lost all alone in the deep, dark forest.

Flanked by wolves.

“Or let us give ye a ride to yer place, so ye can change.” He jerks his head to the sleek black sedan, idling at the corner, driver still behind the wheel. The meeting can wait, they've got more pressing issues to attend, now. 

“Oh… uh-“ He can smell the rot of your hesitance. That’s the thing about a doe, they’re naturally skittish, trembling legs uneasy from the day they were born, nervous about their own shadow. “It’s fine, I can walk. It’s not far.” 

“I feel terrible, let me pay for it.” He pours it thick, and as expected, the guilt about making him feel worse locks into place. “I dinnae what I’ll do if we cannae help. If ye give me yer number, we can arrange to cover the cleaners?” Simon looms closer, fingers folding over Johnny's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

You almost look relieved at the sight.

Poor little doe. 

In the end, you agree. When you give them your name, he traces over each syllable tenderly, memorizing the way it sounds on your lips, as Simon taps a phone number into your contacts.

"Ye go straight home an' change." Johnny murmurs, holding onto your hand a shade too long after you pass him back his phone. "Dinnae want ye walkin' around in a dirty dress all afternoon." You fidget, waxing crescent on your lips, and nod.

"I'll uh... I'll let you know how much it is." There's a hint of a tremble in the back of your throat, off key and off kilter, and he smiles to reassure you, before the two of them turn to take their leave.

"We'll talk to ye soon."

[joelmillerisapunk]

Tastes like strawberries

Dbf!Joel miller x f!reader

Masterlist

Wordcount: 6,367 (ma bad)

Summary: after accidentally sending your dads best friend a provocative photo meant for someone else you go to "apologize" in person.

Warnings: 18+, age gap (make it your own), handcuffs, scissors, power imbalance, alcohol consumption, f&m oral receiving, joel wrecks your clothes, unprotected p in v, reader has hair and wears a dress, just two consenting adults

Notes: this wasn't meant to be so long. But here we are. Thank you for reading hope you like it <3 Thank you @syd-djarin @joelslegalwhre and @mountainsandmayhem for beta'ing sending you all smooches! and @saradika-graphics for the divider <3 <3 <3

The soft glow of your phone screen illuminates your face in the dimly lit room. Your heart races with a mix of excitement and nerves as you craft the perfect message to the guy you've been chatting with on Tinder. His name is Joel, and he seems different from the others—charming, mature, and undeniably intriguing.

With a deep breath, you attach the sexy photo you'd taken earlier, one that you hope he'll find irresistible. You type out a flirty caption, double-check the name at the top of the chat, and hit send before you can second-guess yourself.

The next morning, you wake up to a message notification. Your heart leaps, thinking it's Tinder Joel, but as you reach for your phone, a sense of dread washes over you. The message is from your father's best friend, Joel Miller, a man you've known since childhood and who has seen you grow up. The preview of the message from last night is enough to make your blood run cold.

11:58PM: I think you might have sent this to the wrong person, sweetheart.

Panic sets in as you read the full message and your face flames with embarrassment. You type out a flurry of apologies, each one more frantic than the last. Joel's response is swift and unexpected.

8:05AM: It's all good, baby girl. You don't need those Tinder boys when I'm right here for ya.

The message is accompanied by a winking emoji, and despite your mortification, you can't help but feel a thrill at the familiarity and warmth in his words. 

—

Determined to apologize in person and clear the air, you find yourself outside the sleek glass building that houses Joel's wine company Vita Vino: where every sip is a celebration of life. You certainly don't feel very celebratory at this moment as the receptionist leads you up to the top floor, where Joel's office overlooks the city with floor-to-ceiling windows.

You step into the office, where you see the cityscape sprawling behind Joel. He rises from his desk, a smile playing on his lips, his presence commanding the room. "Come in, sweetheart, was hopin’ to see ya," he says and winks.

You manage to find your voice, despite the fluttering in your chest. "Mr. Miller, I can't tell you how sorry I am. I was mortified when I realized - I don't know what I was thinking, it was meant for someone—"

He cuts you off with a gentle raise of his hand to still your frantic words. "Please call me Joel, you know better than callin me that. It's okay darlin. Really. These things happen."

You look up at him, searching his face for any sign of judgement, but find only a calm, reassuring smile. "I just—I never meant for you to see that. I feel so stupid.”

Joel's smile broadens, and he takes a step closer. "You have nothing to feel stupid about. You're a beautiful, confident woman. Ain't no shame in that. Listen, what you sent—it was for my eyes only from the moment it reached my phone. I want you to know that you can trust me. I would never disrespect you by sharing that with anyone.”

His words resonate with you, and you feel the weight of your embarrassment start to lift. "I appreciate that, Joel. I really do."

He takes a step toward you, closing the distance between you two. His hand lifts, and you feel the warmth of his fingers as they gently tilt your chin up, forcing your gaze to meet his. "You've got nothing to thank me for darlin. I'm just being honest with you."

The intensity of his stare sends a jolt of electricity through you. He's close enough now that you can feel the heat radiating off his body, and the scent of his cologne fills your senses, making your head spin. But before you can respond, he releases your chin and moves to the side, gesturing toward a large, framed map of the world's wine regions that hangs on the wall. As you both turn to look at it, your bodies are almost touching, and you can feel the subtle brush of his arm against yours.

"I want to show you something," he says, pointing to a very tiny out of the way region highlighted in gold. "It's where we get the grapes for our signature blend. You know, just like those grapes, sometimes the best things in life are unexpected surprises." 

As he explains the intricacies of the wine-making process, his hand drifts to the small of your back, a possessive gesture that sends a shiver down your spine. His touch is light, but the message is clear—he's staking a claim. 

As Joel's hand lingers on the small of your back, his thumb traces small, intimate circles that make it hard to focus on his words about wine. The room seems to shrink, the city outside the windows fading into insignificance as your awareness narrows to the man beside you.

 You swallow hard, your breath hitching as Joel's thumb continues its maddeningly delightful exploration. The heat from his hand seems to seep through the fabric of your clothes, branding your skin with his touch. "Joel," you whisper, your voice barely above a murmur. His name feels foreign and familiar on your lips.

He turns to look at you. "Yes, darlin'?" he replies, his voice a low rumble that vibrates through you.

You take a deep breath, steadying yourself against the intoxicating effect he has on you. "I -I should go," you say, though the words feel hollow even as they leave your mouth. The last thing you want is to leave this room and the spell Joel has cast over you.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and he shakes his head slightly. "Do you really want to leave?" he asks, his hand pressing ever so slightly into your back, urging you closer.

The question hangs in the air between you, charged with anticipation and the promise of something deliciously forbidden. You know that saying yes will irrevocably change things between you and Joel Miller—the man who is friends with your father—but in this moment, none of that seems to matter. 

The air between you crackles with tension, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. You're acutely aware of the way your heart is pounding in your chest, the way your breath has become shallow and rapid. Joel's eyes are locked onto yours, a silent challenge that dares you to take a leap into the unknown.

"No," you admit, the word tasting like a confession. "I don't want to leave."

The smile that lights up Joel's face is predatory, triumphant. "Good girl," he murmurs, the approval in his voice sends a thrill through you. He steps back, giving you both a moment to breathe, to let the gravity of your decision settle in the space between you. "I've got something special I've been saving for an occasion like this," Joel says. He moves toward a polished wooden cabinet on the far side of the room. The cabinet is locked, but he produces a key from his pocket with a flourish that makes you smile despite the tension coiling in your belly.

Inside the cabinet is an array of exquisite bottles, each one surely holding a story as rich and complex as its contents. Joel's hand lingers over them before finally selecting one with a label that looks older than you are. "This," he says, holding it up to the light so you can see the liquid within, "is a 1947 Cheval Blanc. One of the finest vintages ever produced."

Your eyes widen at the sight of it. "Joel, I can't... that must be worth a fortune," you protest weakly, even as part of you yearns to experience such rare luxury.

He chuckles softly, shaking his head as he retrieves two crystal glasses from the cabinet. "Money isn't everything, darlin'." His gaze meets yours again, filled with an intensity that takes your breath away. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather share this with than you."

You watch in silence as he expertly uncorks the bottle and pours a small amount into each glass, the wine swirling like liquid rubies. He hands one to you and then raises his own in a toast. "To unexpected surprises," he says with a knowing smile.

The wine is velvet on your tongue, rich and complex with layers of flavor that seem to unfold endlessly as you sip it. You close your eyes for a moment, savoring the experience—and when you open them again Joel is watching you with an intensity that makes your knees weak. The atmosphere in the room has shifted, becoming charged with a desire that's as intoxicating as the wine you're sharing.

"You look so beautiful when you enjoy something.” 

As the last drops of the exquisite wine coat your throat, you lower your glass, your senses heightened by the rich flavors and the man standing before you. Joel's gaze is fixed on you, his eyes dark with desire that mirrors the pulsing need growing within you. He takes a step closer, the heat of his body enveloping you as he reaches out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

"I want to show you more than just wine," he says, his voice a low growl that sends shivers down your spine. "There's a whole world of pleasures I can introduce you to.”

“Joel, I dont know what to say.” 

“Nothin’, you dont have to say anything pretty girl.” 

As the last drops of the Cheval Blanc dance on your tongue, Joel takes a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours. He reaches out to take your glass, setting it aside on a nearby table. His fingers graze yours in the process, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his body, the way his shirt stretches across his broad chest, the subtle hint of stubble along his jawline.

Joel turns back to the wine cabinet to return the precious bottle to its place of honor. As he opens the cabinet door, there's a soft clinking sound, and something metallic tumbles out from one of the shelves, landing with a thud on the plush carpet at your feet.

You both glance down simultaneously. There, gleaming under the soft glow of the office lights, is a pair of handcuffs. They're not just any handcuffs—they're high-quality, with a polished finish that suggests they've been well cared for. Your eyes widen in surprise, and you can feel a heat creeping up your cheeks as you look back at Joel.

"Well, that's not something I expected to show you today," he says with a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of his neck in a rare display of awkwardness.

You stare at the handcuffs and then back at Joel, your heart pounding in your chest. "Are those...?" You trail off, unable to finish the sentence.

Joel chuckles softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he nods. "Yes, they are.”

You're not sure what to think, you can only imagine how many women he's used those on, right here in his office. The thought sends a thrill through you, a mix of jealousy and excitement at the idea of being one of those women, of sharing in this secret, kinky side of Joel that he's kept hidden from the world. "I didn't peg you for the type," you say.

Joel's eyes lock onto yours, the playful glint in them replaced by a serious intensity. "There's a lot you don't know about me, darlin'," he admits. "And there's a lot I'd like to show you, if you're willing.”

You know that picking up those handcuffs would be crossing a line, stepping into a world of pleasure and exploration that you've never experienced before. But the thought of surrendering control to Joel, of letting him guide you through uncharted territory, is exhilarating.

Slowly, you reach down and pick up the handcuffs, the cold metal warming in your grasp. You hold them out to Joel, your heart racing as you give him a silent nod of consent. A slow, approving smile spreads across his face as he takes the handcuffs from you. 

His fingers brush against your wrists, sending sparks of electricity through your veins. You hear the soft click of the handcuffs as they close around your wrists. The sensation of being bound, of being at Joel's mercy, is both thrilling and terrifying.

"There," he says, his breath hot against your ear as he steps in front of you, a predatory glint in his eyes. "Now you're mine."

The words send a jolt of desire through you, pooling low in your belly. You're aware of the way your body responds to his words, to the dominance radiating off him in waves. "What are you going to do with me?" you ask.

Joel's smile is wicked as he reaches out to trace the line of your jaw with his finger. "Whatever I want," he says, the promise in his voice making your knees weak. "But don't worry, darlin'. I'm going to make sure you enjoy every single second of it.”

He guides you toward the large, mahogany desk that dominates his office. The surface is clear, save for a sleek laptop and a few neatly stacked papers. With a gentle hand on your shoulder, he urges you to sit on the edge of the desk, the cool wood against your skin a stark contrast to the heat radiating from his touch.

Joel steps back, his gaze raking over you as he begins to undress and it's as if time slows down, allowing you to take in every inch of his mature, ruggedly handsome form. Joel's suit is tailored to perfection, emphasizing his broad shoulders and muscular arms. Each movement he makes stretches the fabric across his toned body. With practiced ease, he removes it and then unbuttons his crisp, white dress shirt. His chest is a canvas of sun-kissed skin pulled taut over defined pectoral muscles. A smattering of gray hair dusts his chest, trailing down his toned abdomen and disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. Joel's hands move to his belt, and with a flick of his wrist, he unbuckles it, the metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. He slides the leather out of the loops with a slow, deliberate motion. His trousers follow, pooling at his feet to reveal a pair of black boxer briefs that hug his powerful thighs and leave little to the imagination.

His arousal is evident, straining against the soft fabric, and you can't help but feel a thrill at the sight. As he pushes his boxer briefs down, his cock springs free, thick and heavy with desire. His cock is a thing of beauty, perfectly proportioned to his large frame, with a defined shaft and a bulbous head that glistens with a drop of arousal. It's clear that Joel is a man confident in his sexuality and the effect he has on you.

"Eyes up here, darlin'," he teases, but the heat in his gaze tells you he enjoys your appraisal. Joel's eyes twinkle with mischief as he reaches into the top drawer of his desk, the sound of metal against wood sending a shiver of anticipation down your spine. He produces a pair of scissors. The sight of them in his large, capable hands is intimidating. "These," he says, holding up the scissors for you to see, "are going to help me unwrap my present." His voice is filled with a promise that sends a thrill straight to your core.

You swallow hard, your breath hitching as he steps toward you. "Joel, wait—" you start to protest, but the words die on your lips as he places a finger gently against them.

"Shh... trust me," he murmurs, and there's something in his eyes that makes it impossible for you to do anything but nod in silent acquiescence. With a tenderness that belies his strength, Joel takes hold of one of the straps of your dress. The cold steel of the scissors brushes against your skin as he carefully slides the blades beneath the fabric. You feel a momentary resistance and then—snip—the strap gives way, falling limply to your side as Joel cuts through it with practiced ease. The front of your dress sags slightly, revealing more of your cleavage than intended. You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks as Joel's gaze darkens with desire. "You are exquisite," he says reverently, his fingers tracing the newly exposed skin along the neckline of your dress.

Before you can respond, he's moving again, this time cutting away the other strip of fabric that hold up the rest of your dress. The material falls away from your body like petals from a blooming flower, pooling at your waist and leaving you feeling deliciously exposed under his hungry gaze. 

"Joel!" you gasp, both startled and exhilarated by his boldness. "My dress—" 

He silences you with a kiss—a deep, searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt about how much he wants you right now. "Don't worry about it," he says when he finally pulls away, “I'll buy you ten more just like it.”

With your heart pounding in your chest, you watch as Joel's attention shifts to your bra. The scissors glint in the soft light of his office, and you can't help but hold your breath as he positions the blades against the delicate fabric of your bra strap.

"I've been wanting to see these since the moment ya walked in baby," he confesses, his voice a low growl that sends a shiver down your spine. With a swift, precise movement, he snips through the strap on one side, then the other. The bra loosens around you, but it's still held in place by the underwire and your modesty is preserved—for now.

Joel sets the scissors aside and hooks his fingers under the remaining fabric of your dress and bra. He tugs gently, peeling away the layers of clothing that separate you from his touch. You lift your hips to assist him, and with a final tug, he frees you from both garments. You're sitting before him now in nothing but your underwear, feeling more vulnerable and exposed than ever before.

Joel's eyes roam over every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that makes it clear just how much he appreciates what he sees laid out before him on his desk like some kind of erotic feast prepared just for him. "You are absolutely breathtaking," he murmurs appreciatively as his hands follow where his eyes have just been caressing every curve along its way. Joel's hands continue their exploration, his fingers skimming over the soft fabric of your underwear. You can feel the heat of his touch through the thin material, and you can't help but arch into his touch, seeking more.

"Eager, aren't we?" he teases, his fingers tracing the edge of your underwear before dipping beneath the fabric. His fingertips graze your sensitive flesh, and a gasp escapes your lips as pleasure courses through you. "I like that," he murmurs, his voice thick with desire.

Your body responds to his touch with an eagerness that surprises you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, pulling them down slowly, his gaze never leaving yours. "Lift up for me, darlin'," he instructs. You do as he says, lifting your hips so he can slide the underwear down your legs. Once they're off, he tosses them aside carelessly, as if they're nothing more than a bothersome impediment to what he truly wants—you. Now you're completely exposed to him, sitting on the edge of his desk with your hands cuffed and your legs spread slightly. You feel vulnerable like this, but there's also a sense of empowerment in knowing that you've driven him to such lengths of desire.

Joel steps back to appreciate the view, his eyes darkening with lust as they roam over your naked body. "You are a masterpiece," he says reverently, his gaze lingering on the apex of your thighs before traveling up to meet your eyes. "And I am going to worship every inch of you."

Before you can respond, he drops to his knees in front of you, his hands gripping your thighs as he buries his face between your legs. His tongue swipes across your sensitive flesh, and a moan escapes your lips as pleasure shoots through you.  Joel's tongue delves deeper, lapping at your folds and teasing your clit with gentle flicks. You gasp, arching into his touch as he explores you with a skill that leaves you panting for more. His hands squeeze your thighs, holding you in place as he devours you. You feel the world around you melt away as his attention focuses solely on bringing you pleasure.

As he works his magic between your legs, Joel's other hand travels up to cup one of your breasts, tweaking a nipple gently before rolling it between his fingers. The sensation sends shockwaves of desire coursing through you, heightening the pleasure he's already coaxing from below. Your hips buck against him in response to the exquisite torment and ecstasy that overwhelms you.

You can feel yourself growing wetter by the moment under his ministrations, and when Joel finally takes your clit into his mouth with a soft suckling sound that echoes in the quiet room, it's almost too much to bear. He sucks gently at first before increasing the pressure until your whole body tenses and shudders with release.  As the waves of pleasure crash over you, Joel's mouth never leaves your sensitive flesh. He laps at you with long, languid strokes, drawing out your orgasm until you're left trembling and gasping for air. Your body is still pulsing with the aftershocks when he finally pulls back, his lips glistening with your arousal.

He looks up at you, his eyes dark with lust. "You taste as sweet as I imagined," he growls, his voice rough with desire. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan of satisfaction. The sight of him tasting you is incredibly erotic, and you feel a fresh surge of arousal at the thought of him enjoying your pleasure so thoroughly. "Come on now, be a good girl and follow me,”  he says, rising to his feet. He reaches for the chain between the handcuffs, using it to guide you off the desk and toward the plush leather couch that sits against the far wall of his office. 

You stumble slightly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but Joel's strong arm wraps around your waist, holding you steady. He positions you on the couch, your back against the soft leather and your hands still cuffed, placing them above your head. He kneels beside you, his body looming over yours as he captures your lips in a searing kiss. You can taste yourself on his tongue and it makes you dizzy. "Spread those pretty legs for me, darlin'," he murmurs against your lips, and you comply without hesitation, eager for whatever he has planned next. He reaches down to stroke your inner thighs. "You're so wet for me, so ready," he says, his voice filled with approval.

He positions himself between your legs, the tip of his cock nudging against your slick entrance. You look up at him, your eyes meeting his in a silent plea for more. He responds with a slow, deliberate thrust that fills you completely. The sensation of him inside you is overwhelming, and you can't help but cry out in pleasure.

"That's it, such a goodgirl, aren’tcha?" he groans, beginning to move inside you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting and writhing beneath him. "I know baby, s'big but you can take it darlin. C’mon take me inside that pretty pussy.”

His thrusts grow more urgent, more demanding, and you meet each one with a desperation that matches his own. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, punctuated by your cries of pleasure and his low, guttural moans.

Joel's hand snakes between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation is almost too much to bear, and you feel another orgasm building within you, stronger and more intense than the first. "Come for me, darlin'," he commands. "Wanna feel you make a sweet mess on my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you explode around him, your body convulsing with the force of your release. He continues to thrust through your orgasm, drawing it out until you're left limp and boneless beneath him. 

Just as the waves of your orgasm subsides, Joel slowly withdraws from you, leaving you feeling empty and exposed. He stands before you, his cock glistening with your arousal, and there's a predatory glint in his eyes that sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

"On your knees, darlin'," he commands, his voice a low growl that brooks no argument. You scramble to obey, the handcuffs clinking together as you shift your position on the couch. He steps closer, his cock at eye level, and you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

Joel's cock is a sight to behold—a testament to his virility and raw masculinity. It's thick and long, with a prominent vein running along the underside that pulses. The shaft is smooth and warm to the touch, the skin soft yet taut over the steel-hard erection beneath. His girth is substantial. The head of his cock is a deep shade of pink, almost purple with engorgement, and it glistens with a bead of precum that entices you like the sweet promise of a popsicle on a sweltering summer day. You can't help but lean forward, extending your tongue to taste him. The salty-sweet flavor of his essence dances on your taste buds as you lap at him, eliciting a deep groan of pleasure from Joel that vibrates through his body and into yours.

"Open wide," he instructs, his hand fisting his shaft as he guides himself toward your waiting mouth. You part your lips obediently, and he slides inside, filling your mouth with his impressive girth. He tastes musky and salty, a heady combination that makes your head spin.

"That's it, baby girl," he groans, his fingers threading through your hair as he begins to thrust gently into your mouth. "Take it nice and deep."

You relax your throat, trying to accommodate his size as he sets a steady rhythm, fucking your mouth with slow, deliberate thrusts. You can feel the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat, and you fight the urge to gag, wanting to please him, to show him that you can handle everything he gives you.

"Such a good girl," he praises, his words spurring you on. "You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth."

His praise washes over you, filling you with a sense of pride and arousal. You moan around him, the vibrations making him hiss with pleasure. His grip on your hair tightens, and he pulls you closer, pushing deeper into your throat.

"Fuck, yes," he groans, his hips jerking as he hits the perfect spot. "Just like that. Don't stop."

You can feel the tension building in his body, the way his thighs tremble slightly with each thrust. You know he's close, and the knowledge that you're the one bringing him to the edge fills you with a sense of power.

Suddenly, he pulls out, his cock leaving your mouth with a wet pop. "Not yet," he says, his voice strained. "Wanna come inside ya baby, make a mess in that tasty cunt."

He helps you to your feet and guides you back to the desk, bending you over it so that your ass is in the air and gives you a light smack to one cheek. He reaches between your legs, his fingers easily sliding into your soaked pussy. "Goddamn baby, you're still so wet," he marvels, his fingers pumping in and out of you with a rhythm that quickly has you panting for more.

Without warning, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with his cock, slamming into you with a force that makes you cry out in surprise and pleasure. He sets a brutal pace, his hips slapping against your ass with each powerful thrust.

"You feel that, darlin'?" he growls, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "That's me claiming what's mine."

His words send a jolt of desire through you, and you push back against him, meeting each thrust with one of your own. You can feel another orgasm building, the pressure coiling low in your belly.

"Come for me one more time," he commands, his hand reaching around to strum your clit with quick, expert strokes. "Wanna feel you milk my cock."

His words push you over the edge, and you come around him, your entire core pulsing around his girth and with a final, powerful thrust, Joel buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he finds his own release. You can feel him filling you up, the warmth of his seed spreading through you as he groans out his pleasure.

Spent, he collapses on top of you, his body heavy and sated. After a moment, he pulls out and helps you to stand, his hands gentle as he uncuffs you and massages your wrists.

"You are somethin’ else that's for sure babygirl," he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

You smile up at him, "I'm glad I could make you feel good," you reply with a soft voice.

Joel chuckles and gives you a quick, playful swat on the ass. "Make me feel good? Baby girl, you blew my mind."

He reaches into a drawer and pulls out a sleek, black whip. "Next time," he says, holding it up for you to see, "we can play with this. But for now, I think we've both had enough excitement for one day."

You stand there for a moment, still reeling from the intensity of your encounter, and then you remember—your dress is in tatters on the floor. You gather the remnants of your clothing, holding them up in front of you like a shield. "What do I do about this?" you ask.

Joel looks at you with a mischievous grin, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "What size are you, darlin'?" he asks, reaching for his phone on the desk.

You tell him your size, still feeling a bit flustered as he dials a number and speaks into the receiver. "Hey, Lexi? Yeah, I need you to pick up a dress for our guest here.” He looks at you questioningly, and you repeat your size for his benefit. "Got it. And make it something nice—surprise me.” There's a brief pause as he listens to his assistant's response before hanging up the phone with a satisfied nod. "Lexi will take care of everything," he assures you with a wink that sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach once again despite yourself.

True to his word, less than twenty minutes later, there's a knock on the office door. Lexi, Joel's assistant, enters the room with a professional smile and several shopping bags from high-end boutiques. "Here you go, Mr. Miller," she says, setting them down next to where you're standing, like this is completely normal. "I hope these will suffice."

"Thank you, Lexi," Joel responds with a nod of appreciation. "I'm sure they'll be perfect." Lexi exits the room as quickly as she came in, leaving you once again alone with Joel. He gestures toward the bags with a playful smile. "Go on, darlin'. Pick your favorite."

You rummage through the bags and find an elegant black dress that looks like it would fit you perfectly. It's sophisticated yet sexy—just like the man who bought it for you. With a shy smile, you hold it up for Joel to see.

"Perfect choice," he says approvingly. "Why don't you try it on?"

You slip into the dress, feeling its soft fabric hug your curves in all the right places. When you turn around to show Joel, his eyes light up with appreciation. "You look stunning," he murmurs sincerely while walking over towards where you were standing before wrapping an arm around your waist then pulling you closer so he could whisper into your ear "But then again I knew you would." His words send shivers down your spine causing goosebumps to form all over your skin despite how warm it was inside his office at this moment.

 As Joel takes a moment to drink in the sight of you in the new dress, you can't help but feel a deep sense of satisfaction. The way his eyes darken with desire, even after everything you've shared, is intoxicating. It's clear that his interest in you isn't just a fleeting attraction—it's something much deeper and more intense.

You smile at him, your heart fluttering in your chest. "Thank you, Joel," you reply softly. "For everything."

He chuckles and shakes his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet, darlin'. The day's still young. Now what do you say I get ya home safe."

With that tantalizing promise hanging in the air between you, Joel helps you into your coat—a thoughtful gesture that makes you feel cared for. He escorts you out of his office and down to the parking garage where his sleek black sports car is waiting. The ride back to your place is filled with easy conversation and shared laughter, the chemistry between you two undeniable and electric.

When he pulls up in front of your building, he turns off the engine and turns to face you. "I had a great time with you today," he says sincerely, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "I hope this isn't the last time I get to see that beautiful smile of yours."

You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bold despite the vulnerability coursing through you. "I don't think that will be a problem," you say with a playful smirk. 

Joel grins back at, “that's my good girl.” 

As you step out of the car, the cool  air wraps around you. You turn to say goodbye, but he's already getting out of the driver's seat, coming around to your side of the car.

"Let me walk you to your door," he says, offering his arm with a gentlemanly charm that belies the fiery passion you've shared. You accept with a nod, and together, you walk toward the entrance of your building.

The silence between you is comfortable, filled with the unspoken knowledge of what transpired between you two. As you reach your door, you turn to face him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Thank you again, Joel, for today," you say softly, "for everything."

Joel smiles at you. "The pleasure was all mine," he replies with a wink and leans in close enough that his breath ghosts over your lips when he speaks again. "But I have a feeling we're just getting started."

With those words hanging in the air between you like a promise of more incredible days to come, Joel takes a step back and heads back toward his car parked by curbside leaving only echoes behind him.

As the door to your building clicks shut behind you, you lean against it. The memory of his touch, his kiss, his words—they all send shivers of delight coursing through your veins. You can't help but smile to yourself as you replay the events of the day in your mind, each moment more thrilling than the last.

You're startled out of your reverie by the buzzing of your phone in your purse. Fishing it out, you see a notification on the screen - a new message from Joel. Your heart skips a beat as you open it, curiosity and excitement mingling within you.

1:07PM: Can't wait to unwrap that pretty little package again." 

The words alone are enough to send a jolt of desire through you, but then you notice an attachment—a picture. With trembling hands, you open it and find exactly what you were hoping for - a photo of Joel's large burly hand wrapping around his even thicker, larger cock, hard and ready for you once more. You realize he must have taken that in his car.

Your breath catches in your throat as you take in the sight of Joel's arousal, so potent and vivid on your screen. The knowledge that he's thinking about you, that he's hard and ready again so soon after your encounter, sends a thrill of power through you. You type out a quick response, your fingers flying over the keys with a boldness that matches the newfound confidence he's awakened in you.

1:10PM I hope you're not driving and texting that picture. Keep your eyes on the road, Mr. Miller.  you tease, adding a winking emoji for good measure.

His response is almost immediate, a testament to his eagerness. 

1:10PM Don't worry, darlin'. I'm parked outside your building. Couldn't resist sending you a little something to dream about tonight.

You can't help but smile at his words, your body already aching for his touch once more. But before you can respond, another message comes through with an address.

1:11PM Tomorrow, 8 PM. My place. Wear something comfortable and easy to take off.

1:12PM Yes sir.

1:13PM Oh baby you're walking Into whole new territory calling me sir. I'm going to put that pretty mouth to good use tomorrow.

Just as you're about to put your phone down a last message comes through 

1:13PM And leave the underwear at home.

[cameronsprincess]

— summary: you meet up with your favorite biker guy to backpack him for a day, and things get very heated very fast.

— CW: 18+ only! meeting up with a stranger (don’t do that), putting out for a stranger (oops, i’d fold if it were biker!rafe too), biker guy!rafe, semi public sex (it’s at the top of a parking deck thing😭😂), fingering, hair pulling, male receiving oral, unprotected sex, ass and pussy slapping (like once), lots of dirty talk and praise.

— a/n: ah fuck. my obsession with biker men got the best of me here. my wet fucking dream. likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

❥ ride — r.c

I couldn’t believe this was actually happening. I had been following him on Instagram and TikTok for months, and he lived in my town! So when I finally found the courage to send him a DM on Instagram joking about backpacking him for a day, I never in a million years imagined that he would actually respond — and say yes!

I’m finishing up the final touches of my makeup in front of my full length mirror that sits in the corner of my room when I hear my phone go off, letting me know I have a text.

Standing from the floor, I make my way to my nightstand and grab my phone. I open it to see that he has texted me.

Rafe: Hey! I’m out front whenever you’re ready.

I smile at the text and type out a quick response. Pocketing my phone, I rush to slip on my high top converse and grab my hoodie, tossing it over my head and rushing out of my bedroom and front door.

Making my way down the steps I come to a stop at the bottom, my breath catching in my throat when I see him leaned against the side of his bike. He looks deliciously good today. He wears a pair of tight, black jeans and a fitted white T-shirt. He pairs the outfit with a pair of white Nikes with a black Nike check in the middle of either side.

He doesn’t have his helmet on, and the sight of his bright blue eyes sparkling under the sun has my thighs tightening. He never shows his face on his social media, only his eyes if he flips the visor of his helmet up, and he rarely does that. He has the most perfect full lips, a defined jawline and his hair sits messy on top of his head. This man is the epitome of perfection.

“Y/N, right?” He asks, his low voice pulling me from my trance.

I swallow the saliva that’s built up in my mouth from looking at him and nod my head quickly. “Yeah, that’s me! Rafe, right?” I ask. But I already know. The bike he came to pick me up on lets me know it is in fact him.

He smiles widely. “That’s me. You ready? Have you ever rode before? Even just on the back?”

My hands begin to slightly shake, all of a sudden clammy. I’m nervous. But who wouldn’t be? This gorgeous man, with a large following on social media is here to pick me up, and take me riding with him for the day. Any woman in my position would be nervous too. Well, not all women, but the women like me.

“No.” I answer honestly. I watch his lips quirk up into a smirk, and I internally fist pump that he didn’t change his mind. Happy that he didn’t say “never mind, it’s not worth the hassle of teaching you”

He takes a step toward me, reaching his right hand out for me to take. I place my hand in his and pray that he can’t feel how nervous I am. He leads me toward his bike, releasing my hand and grabbing the extra helmet he’d brought with him. He turns, and when his blue eyes land on mine again, I swear I feel my heart skip a beat.

“I’m just gonna slide this on you, that okay?”

I smile and nod. “Yeah that’s fine.”

He nods once and then moves to slip the sleek black helmet over my head. Once it’s on good, his fingers move down to the straps under my chin. When his fingers brush across the skin, a shiver runs through my body. Once he has it strapped in place, he steps back and lifts the visor so he can see my eyes. “Fits perfectly. You look cute in that.”

I laugh nervously. “Thank you.”

He gives me one last smile before turning and grabbing his own helmet, placing it on his head and strapping it in place. He turns to face me again, and my panties grow wet at the sight in front of me. I don’t know what it is, but him with his helmet on is so fucking sexy.

“‘M just gonna press this button on your helmet, it’ll allow you to hear me while we’re riding.”

I nod my head and stand still as he steps toward me again, pressing a small button on the helmet I didn’t know was there. He steps back and asks, “Can you hear me?”

I giggle. “Yeah, I can hear you. That’s so cool!”

I hear him chuckle and the sound makes butterflies erupt in my stomach. “Yeah, me and my friends bought these so we can communicate while we ride, if we get separated and can’t use our hand signals. Plus, it’s fun to fuck with them this way too.”

He turns back to his bike and grabs a pair of black and white riding gloves from a drawstring bag, shoving them on his hands before turning to me once more. He claps his hands together and begins explaining the basics of riding on the back.

“So, I’ll hop on and you’ll sit on this seat behind me, and place your feet on these pegs.” He pats the seat and points to the foot pegs. “While we’re riding, wrap your arms tightly around my waist, and if I lean in a certain direction, you lean with me. It makes it easier to navigate turns and what not.” He pauses again, thinking of what else he needs to go over. He finally speaks again. “Oh! And if you get scared or want me to slow down, just tap my thigh. It’ll let me know to slow down for you.”

I nod my head and let him know I understand. Satisfied with everything he’s told me, and knowing I’m comfortable he tosses his drawstring bag onto his back and climbs onto his bike, starting it up. The engine roars to life and he turns his head to face me, nodding it toward him to let me know I can get on. I swing my right leg over the back of the bike, setting my ass onto the seat and wrap my arms tightly around his waist like he’d said to do.

I hear him through the speaker in the helmet as his hand taps my thigh. “Ready?”

“Yes!”

-

An hour later, Rafe is pulling up to the top of a parking deck. The two of us had rode non stop for the last hour, and to say it was one of the most exhilarating and memorable experiences of my life would be an understatement.

He pulls the bike to a stop, shutting off the engine and putting out the kickstand before he climbs off. He keeps his hand on my thigh to keep me upright as he gets off the bike, and then he grabs at my left hand and helps me off next.

I pop the clip of the straps under my chin, letting them fall loose before I pull the helmet up and off my head. I run my fingers through my hair, trying to tame the knots that had formed during the ride. After a few seconds of — and actually failing — trying to tame the knots, I finally decide to just toss my hair into a high ponytail.

As I’m securing the ponytail holder in my hair, Rafe’s voice catches my attention. “So, was it everything you thought it’d be?”

I finish putting my hair up and turn to smile at him. “Absolutely. That was… So much fun.” I breathe out.

He smiles and takes two long strides toward me, making my breath catch in my throat and my thighs tighten. This man is so fucking sexy it hurts, and the fact that I’m alone with him, it has my heart pounding and my pussy throbbing. But we don’t know one another, nothing would ever happen between us. He was just being nice today, allowing me to ride with him. I bet he does this a lot. I’m nothing special.

Once he stands directly in front of me, I swear my knees almost give out. His intoxicating scent fills my nose, the warmth radiating off his body envelopes me. He reaches his right hand out, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

“I gotta say, you looked absolutely beautiful on my bike.”

My heart begins pounding rapidly in my chest, my hands shaking. I swear, this man is going to be my downfall. If he asked me to drop to my knees right here, right now, I don’t think I’d have the strength to tell him no.

I laugh nervously. “Thank you. You don’t look to bad yourself on there.”

A wide grin spreads across his lips, and the sight alone takes my fucking breath away. He cups my cheek with his right hand, brushing his thumb across my skin. “Can I kiss you?”

My eyes go wide. Did the Rafe Cameron just ask if he could kiss me? I have to be dreaming right now. My eyes find his, searching for any sign that he’s just fucking with me. But I never find it. His blue eyes are darkened over, and hold nothing but seriousness in them.

I feel my legs turn to jello, and the only thoughts running through my mind are his lips on mine. His cock buried inside my wet cunt, down my throat. My eyes flick down to his plump lips and back to his eyes. He takes my silence as an invitation, dipping his head down and pressing his lips with mine.

The kiss starts out softly at first, but then he quickly deepens it. His tongue glides across my slightly parted lips, a low groan emitting from his chest before he forces his tongue in my mouth. Our tongues brush against one another, fighting for dominance before he finally wins. My entire body is on fire, my thighs tightening and my arousal soaks my thong. Fuck, I need more of him.

When he finally breaks his lips from mine, we’re both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling as his lust filled eyes search mine. I decide to be bold, the worst he can do is shove me away, right? My right hand slides between our bodies, finding his hard cock and palming him through the rough fabric of his black jeans. He hisses in a breath. “You’re playing a dangerous game, baby. You sure you want this?”

A shiver runs up my spine at the low, raspy tone of his voice. Sexual tension is thick in the cool fall air, making it feel warmer than it is outside. My entire body screaming at me to let him have me, while my mind is screaming to run the other way. I don’t know him. I only follow him on social media. But he’s so fucking sexy. He’s so confident in himself, and I need to feel what it’s like to have him. Even if it’s just a one time thing, even if he is a stranger to me, my body fucking craves him like a drug I can’t get enough of.

My eyes find his and a mischievous smile forms on my lips. “I’m sure.”

I feel his cock twitch beneath the fabric of his jeans, and I smile knowing that it’s me who has this man all worked up. He slaps my hand away from his hard-on, his own hands quickly working the button and zipper of his jeans. He slides the black material down his legs, before shoving his boxers down as well, the material pooled at his feet. His strong hands grip my shoulders, shoving me down to my knees.

I wince when my knees hit the hard concrete beneath me. I shake away the feeling of the rough ground digging into my knees through my jeans, and focus on the hard, long and thick cock that stands erect in front of my face. I bite at my bottom lip before lightly grasping the thick base of him in my right hand. I stroke him softly, running my hands up and down, from the base to the swollen pink tip. Removing my hand, I gather saliva in my mouth and spit down into my palm before gripping him again.

I stroke him softly, toying with the head of his cock before running my hands back down the base. He growls in frustration, his hands falling to the back of my head and gripping at the high ponytail I’d put my hair into. He yanks my head up, forcing my eyes on his. “You like playing games? Suck my fucking cock, baby. Or else I promise, when it comes time to please you, I’ll play the games right fucking back, and you won’t like it when I win.”

I smirk up at him, letting out a small whimper at the tone in his voice and the feeling of his hands in my hair. He loosens his grip on my head, allowing me to drop my head back down. My tongue darts out of my mouth and I lick up the vein that’s on the underside of his cock. He moans when my tongue reaches his tip, now red and angry as precum leaks from it. I slide my tongue over the slit on the tip of his dick, gathering his precum onto my tongue. I close my eyes and hum in appreciation. “You taste so good, Rafe.”

He growls, his fingers wrapping around my ponytail once more and shoving my mouth onto his cock. He shoves himself all the way down my throat, pulling a small gag from me. I look up at him through my lashes, his head is thrown back, eyes squeezed shut. His adam’s apple bobs in his throat when he swallows. Slowly, he pulls my head back, strings of my saliva coating his dick.

“‘M gonna fuck this pretty mouth, then, I’m going to bend you over this fucking bike and take you from behind. Alright?”

I whimper in response and he lets out a dark laugh. I suck in one more breath before he shoves himself back in my throat. Tears fill my eyes as I breathe through my nose. His thrusts are harsh and sloppy, his tip repeatedly abusing the back of my throat. But I don’t fucking care. This man can fucking ruin me, and I’ll thank him when he’s done.

The sounds of my gags and his grunts fill the air as he continues to abuse my throat. His thrusts begin to grow sloppier, his dick swelling in my mouth. I feel him twitch inside my mouth and then he’s yanking my head back, spit attached to his dick and my mouth go flying at his roughness.

I suck in an appreciative breath of air, my hand over my chest as it heaves up and down. He wraps his fingers around my left arm, pulling me to my feet and turning me so my back is to him. “Jeans down, now.” He demands, and I quickly obey.

My jeans are pooled at my feet, the only thing left covering me from him is the black lace thong I chose to wear today. I gasp loudly when I feel his hand slap harshly against my ass, the sting it left behind delicious. He runs his fingers over my clothed pussy, and I can’t contain the moan that slips free. “You’re fucking soaked, baby. All f’me?”

I nod my head, tears falling past my lower lashes. “Yes. Fuck, yes. All for you, Rafe.”

His fingers slide my panties to the side, baring my soaked pussy to him. I hear him groan from behind me. “Such a pretty pussy, baby. I can’t wait to feel it squeezing my cock.”

He runs his fingers through my wet folds, gathering my arousal on them before he shoves to inside me without warning. I cry out, my back arching and allowing him better access. He slowly pushes two thick digits in and out of me, his thumb pressed firmly against my clit and rubbing lazy circles around it. “So fuckin’ tight, baby. Gotta stretch you out before I shove my cock inside you, think you can handle a third finger?”

I whimper, my head falling forward and dangling over the other side of the bike. “Yes.” I say breathlessly.

He lets out a low growl before adding a third finger into my sensitive pussy. “That’s it baby girl, take my fingers. You’re almost ready for my cock.”

Whimpers and whines fall from my lips, my hips roll against his hand, fucking myself onto his fingers. The squelching noise my pussy makes while his fingers fuck me have my mind going fuzzy and my toes curling within the confines of my high top converse.

I feel myself clench tightly around his fingers as that warm feeling builds inside me. My orgasm nearing. I clench around him again, my legs shaking uncontrollably as I come undone around his fingers.

He quickly pulls his fingers from inside me, the hand that was just fucking me slaps harshly at my now overly sensitive cunt, making me scream. “Fuck me, Rafe! I need you inside me, now! Please..? Please fuck me.”

He chuckles, and I turn my head to see him with the three fingers he just fucked me with shoved into his mouth. He sucks and licks them clean, pulling them out and giving me a mouth watering smirk. “Taste so fuckin’ good. Gonna have to take you home with me after this and devour that sweet cunt of yours.”

I sigh in frustration, wiggling my ass back and forth, silently begging him to fuck me. I hear him step toward me, and then I feel his swollen head running through my slick folds. His head teases at my entrance before he slowly pushes it inside me. “Fuck!” I shout, and he chuckles. He slowly pushes himself inside me, inch my inch until he’s buried inside me, his balls lightly brushing at my sensitive clit.

He groans. “Fuck, you’re so goddamn tight. Pussy feels s’good wrapped around my dick.”

I let out a soft whine when he slowly pulls himself from inside me, slamming himself back in seconds later. His hands find my hips, gripping them tightly as he begins to roughly fuck himself into me. My tits are smushed against the seat of his bike, my head dangling over the other side as my hands grip at the foot peg in front of me for balance.

Each push and pull of his cock has me seeing stars, my legs turning to jello once more. A feeling of pure euphoria washes over me, and I know my second orgasm is about to explode from me. “Goddamnit, Rafe! ‘M so close, so fuckin’ close!”

One harsh thrust has the band snapping and my pussy pulsing. My second release washes over me. I lift onto the tips of my toes, screaming his name out to the world as I come undone around his thick cock.

He doesn’t let up, he continues pounding into me ruthlessly. My body goes numb, my brain foggy and blood rushing to my ears. All I can hear are the sounds of his balls slapping against my pussy and the wet, squelching noise my pussy makes with each push and pull of his hips. He lies his front on top of my back, his lips ghosting over my ear as he whispers. “Hope you’re on birth control, ‘cause I’m coming in this sweet fucking cunt.”

I whine, my eyes rolling into the back of my head when I feel his cock swell inside me. He places a hot kiss on the sweat slick skin of my neck, his teeth sinking into the skin when his dick twitches inside me. He lets out a low groan, thrusting forward once more before he still inside me, letting the hot, white ropes of his cum spill inside me. Marking me with his seed.

He lies on top of me for a few seconds, breathing heavily before he slowly pulls himself from inside me. A shudder wracks my body at the feeling of his thick cock sliding out, leaving me feeling empty and suddenly cold.

He pulls something from his bag, bringing it between my legs and wiping me clean. I look at him from behind my shoulder, and give a small smile. Once he’s finished cleaning me up, I fix my panties and lean forward to pull my jeans back up my legs. It’s awkwardly silent, and that alone makes me uncomfortable. Does he regret what we just did? Does he wish he didn’t have to make the awkward ride back with me back to my place?

All the thoughts running through my mind vanish when I feel his lips on mine. “Stop that.” He says once he pulls away.

I frown. “Stop what?”

His hands cup my cheeks and he smiles down at me. “Thinking. I can see it written all over your face.” He pauses, kissing the top of my forehead, and the act alone has my stomach erupting with butterflies again. “I meant what I said, I’m taking you home and devouring that sweet cunt, you got a thirty minute ride to prepare yourself for a long night baby.” He says with a wink, and then he turns to get us ready for the ride back to his house.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @thelomlisrafecameron @rafegirly @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @abbybarnesstuff @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @yourfavborderhopper @moremaybank @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @jade-is-jaded @lexasaurs634 @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @rafescokenostril @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @jjsmarijuana @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @nirvanaissogood @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

[heehoonies]

lemonade

description: sunghoon is absolutely infatuated by his step sister, and he knows his best friends, jay and jake, both want a taste. sunghoon shows them they can touch, but only with his permission.

word count: 8k

contents: step bro sunghoon & (step) brother's best friends jayke x reader, porn with (little) plot, STEPCEST!! dni if uncomfy, hoonie is possessive and mean at times >.<

smut warnings under the cut

now playing: lemonade by nct 127

smut warnings: reader is kinda dumb and innocent (but she knows what she wants), sunghoon has a monster cock, a couple mlm moments (bisexual king jay rise!!!!), hard and soft dom!sunghoon, service dom!jay, dom!jake (a few sub!jake moments bc.. yeah), sub!reader, daddy and sir kinks, foursome, unprotected sex (do not. do this!), pussy drunk jake, breeding kink, praise, degradation, pet names, slight voyeurism, cum eating, multiple orgasms, cumming inside, creampie, anal, y/n gets fucked in all three holes at once, oral (m. and f. rec), face fucking, spit as lube, choking, bulge kink, possessive and kinda mean sunghoon... erm i think that's it!

“dude, there’s no way you don’t think she’s hot!”

sunghoon shakes his head at jay’s admission, groaning as he waves a hand at his best friend, trying to shoo him away with pure willpower. “shut up, will you? that’s my step sister you’re talking about dude.”

sunghoon watches his best friends with disinterest, anger bubbling as he scoffs at the way they grill him. the way you and him behave behind closed doors is truly none of their damn business.

“your step sister is hot as fuck, hoon, “if she comes out here in that tiny ass yellow bikini she wore yesterday…” jake nearly moans at the thought, staring up at the underside of the beach umbrella he sits beneath, snuggling further into the lounge chair he lies on. “i’m gonna take her in the damn pool, i don’t care if either of you fuckers see us.”

“not if i fuck her first,” jay shoves jake, forcing the younger man to spring to life, chasing jay before they both jump into the pool. the two continue fighting once they land inside, jay dunking jake’s head underwater for a moment as sunghoon shakes his head, watching his best friends wrestle. he scowls at the two of them, knowing neither of them deserve to be around let alone fuck you. but he tolerates it, for now, knowing you somewhat enjoy their presence, often giggling at their dumb antics. a giggle that sunghoon often thinks about when he’s jerking it in the shower, not that he’d ever admit it.

sunghoon watches the pair as they jostle around in the warm water, time passing quickly as they fight for dominance. “you two are so annoying,” jay and jake both wave him off, “whatever man, you love us!” jay blows sunghoon a kiss before jake wrestles him under the water’s surface once more.

“hi, hoonie,” you smile as you step outside, the sight of a brand new bikini sunghoon has never seen adorning your gorgeous figure. it takes everything in him to not pop a boner in his swim trunks, watching as the deep pink material compliments your skin beautifully. a bikini that he wants to see on the floor. “what are they doing?” you watch jay and jake with a small pout.

“hell if i know,” sunghoon trails his gaze up from your feet, with cute pink painted toenails to match your swimsuit. he sees strong, sleek calves followed by plush thighs, ones that he’d love to feel clamped around his head as he makes you see stars. the waist he’d love to grab and bruise in his tight grip, to the toned stomach that he wants to see bulge from the press of his cock deep in your cervix.

his eyes go further, to the cleavage visible in your poor excuse for a bikini top, plump tits nearly spilling out, begging to be sucked and marked. sunghoon can see your nipples poking through the thin fabric and the sight makes his mouth quirk up, fangs urging to nip and bite at them until they stand at attention, begging for more. your shoulders, which would be prettier covered in purple and blue and sprawled out against his white sheets. your neck, begging to be bitten to the point of nearly bleeding, his fangs digging into your delicate skin.

“sunghoon?” you tear him from his thoughts, eyes darting up to meet your gaze. well, fuck, now he’s hard, right when you’re looking at him with your big eyes and pink, pouty lips. pouty lips that never fail to tease him into oblivion, giggling lightly as you manage to press your ass against his bulge at every possible moment. “hoon, can you put this on my back? i can’t reach…”

you lie on your stomach on the lounge chair next to him, turning your head to the side to watch your step brother. he doesn’t move, and you whine, “hoonie, please.”

the tone in your voice makes sunghoon groan, throwing his head back to hide the noise that slips out, not wanting you to see how easily he’s crumbling when he hears you practically beg for him to touch your back. sunghoon knows you’d sound even prettier begging for his cock, squirming in his hold and nearly crying from how good he’s making you feel.

“sure,” sunghoon obliges, rising to his feet before straddling you, sitting on your ass as he squirts a glob of sunscreen into his hand. you reach back and untie the back of your bikini, the sides falling down to allow him to further cover your back. sunghoon feels his dick stir and press against your ass, catching a glimpse of your sideboob as it spills out of your top and lies against the fabric of the chair. you press back against him discreetly, biting on your hand to prevent a moan from tumbling out of your glossy lips. you love the little game you and sunghoon play, pushing further and further until one of you breaks. he’s yet to fuck you, often times stumbling away from you to hide in the bathroom, fucking his fist at the thought of your tight heat wrapped around his achingly hard dick. you continue to hold back, waiting for him to make the first move, trying to protect your heart from him. you don’t want to just be a quick fuck for him.

sunghoon begins at the top of your shoulder blades, rubbing diligently with gentle pressure as he spreads the cream along your upper body. “mmm, feels good, hoonie,” you smile against your hand, eyes flicking back to look at him. you find his gaze trained on your body, taking in the relaxed look of your shoulders. “keep going,” you stir him on, keeping your voice low, feeling his hard on press further into the fat of your ass.

“fuck,” sunghoon mumbles under his breath as he takes another dollop of sunscreen and begins making his way further down your back. it feels so good, your eyes fluttering shut as you take in all the sensations of sunghoon pressed against you, hands wandering and cock stirring against your bikini bottoms. you take in the feeling of sunghoon, his presence overwhelming you deeply and clouding your thoughts with images of your pussy stuffed with his big cock. what you wouldn’t do to have him slide your bottoms to the side and slip right in, wet enough to not need any prep. the thought of his cock filling your hole in the middle of your backyard, right in front of his friends, as he continues to massage your back makes your wetness seep deeper into the flimsy fabric. you wish he’d claim you right here in front of them, not completely oblivious to the feelings both of his friends share for you.

it doesn’t matter how jake and jay feel, though, because you know they could never satisfy you the way sunghoon could. you wouldn’t mind a little fun with them while you wait for sunghoon to finally pounce on you though, like a little warm up before the main event of your step brother bottoming out in your aching hole.

“there you go, princess,” sunghoon ties your bikini top again before rising to his feet, adjusting his swim shorts to conceal his raging boner.

“thank you, hoonie,” you rise to your feet, placing a delicate kiss on his cheek and not waiting for his reaction before approaching the pool, walking down slowly, finally catching the attention of jay and jake. sunghoon blushes lightly at your affection, his heart stirring now alongside the hard on in his trunks.

jay lets go of jake’s head, who bobs back up from underwater. he gasps, pushing his water soaked bangs out of his face as he blinks, adjusting to the bright sun beaming in his eyes once more. “hi, y/n,” jay’s sultry tone makes your knees buckle, but luckily you’re only a few steps into the warm water, able to reach the bottom of the pool with your feet.

“y/n!” jake’s alluring accent makes you smile, his excitement to see you filling your heart with joy. “glad you could join us, it’s always more fun with you here, beautiful.”

you quirk an eyebrow, training your gaze on jake, “is that so?” he nods, approaching you. “if we can convince hoon to come in the pool, we can play chicken,” jake exclaims, “and i’m the strongest base out of all three of us. i’d never let you fall into the pool, angel.” he winks at you, the sight stirring a flutter against your ribcage.

“okay, jakey,” you spare a glance towards sunghoon, who is watching the three of you with a guarded look on his sharp features, his eyes now adorned with sunglasses to shield his true emotions as he waits for his cock to calm down. “hoonie! come join us!”

“he’s refused to get in the pool all day,” jay joins jake at your side, your head feeling a little lighter at the realization of having all three men’s attention on you, with jay and jake both crowding your space intentionally. “even tried to bribe him but he didn’t move.”

“i can think of a way to get him in here,” jake mumble absentmindedly, jay snickering at the off handed comment.

sunghoon sets his sunglasses down, finally feeling like his dick has calmed enough to be in your vicinity once more. he dives into the pool gracefully, head peeking back above the water and pushing the hair from his eyes in one swift, elegant movement. you watch as his shoulders glisten in the sunlight, urging the water to part so you could trail your eyes further down his torso, want to take a peek at his bare skin as you know how hard he’s been hitting the gym recently. the sight of him sweating in the makeshift gym he’s made with jay in your garage always brings you to your knees before you retreat up the stairs and whip out a toy you picked out specifically after hypothesizing how big sunghoon’s cock is.

it’ll never be as good as the real thing, though, and you ache for him to finally give up this back and forth game you’re playing. your resolve is too strong to cave first, afraid that his feelings won’t mirror your own.

“jake wants to play chicken, let me on your shoulders.”

sunghoon obliges with a huff, ducking down to allow jay to hop on his shoulders as jake hoists you up onto his, gripping your plush thighs tightly, glancing up at you with a sly grin on his face. one turn and jake would have his nose pressed into your heat, he imagines how good you’d taste, how warm you’d be as he dove in with his tongue, fingers reaching where he can’t as he eats you like you’re his last meal.

the game begins, jay reaching over and grabbing your arms and shoulders, leaning in to try and throw you off balance. your perky boobs press against his chest and he feels his strength begin to crumble, “stop being so strong!” you whine, pushing against jay as you try to shove him off sunghoon’s broad shoulders. the words hit his ears with a rush, his resolve tumbling down along with his body as both him and sunghoon fall into the water. the realization of you thinking he’s strong rings in jay’s mind as he watches you celebrate above him. “get down from there,” the corner of his mouth tugs up into a smile as he watches you.

“but i like being tall!” you complain, hands reaching down to hold jake’s to keep your balance.

jake squeezes your hands as he tries to lead you off his shoulders, “come on, y/n.”

you shake your head, watching as sunghoon trails his way up your figure to meet your gaze. “y/n,” is all he says before you’re allowing jake to help you down, your stubborn, flirty resolve crumbling instantly under sunghoon’s hard stare.

jay wraps you in his arms as you breach the water again, leading you to squirm in his hold, “jay, let go of meeeee,” you whine, slapping at his shoulders lightly.

“let me hold you, pretty,” jay replies lowly, the timbre in his voice sending heat to your core, “mmf– don’t call me that, jay.”

“yeah?” jay laughs, low and sensual as he holds you, “why, baby?”

you shake you head, shoving to get away from him, unable to hide your whiny tone, “let go!”

his steely voice draws your gaze to meet his, eyes going wide. “you can’t even give me a reason why i should let you go, can you?”

you shake your head meekly, watching his eyes darken as he watches you, eyes darting around your face. “that’s what i thought.” he snakes a hand down your body, relishing in the smooth curve of your hips before resting a hand on your thigh. your breath hitches, glancing over at sunghoon, who is playing basketball with jake merely a few feet away. you miss the way he watches you and jay out of the corner of his eye, jealousy brewing beneath his gorgeous skin.

jay dips down to kitten lick once at the junction that joins your neck to your shoulder, chasing the action with a shallow bite in the same spot as he snakes a hand inside your swim bottoms. you yelp in response to his hand as it swipes through your folds, pinching your clit lightly before retracting his hand and giving your ass a light squeeze. 

“i’m hungry!” jake whines.

“come on, i’ll make sandwiches,” jay jumps out of the pool and you watch as the water drips off of his body, highlighting the taut muscles of his back. he grabs his towel, turning back to see you staring, winking at you as you float below him. “you coming, sweetheart?”

you blush at his double entendre, whether intentional or not, and nod lightly, making your way to the stairs. jake steps out, grabbing two towels and waits at the last step. you join jake and he wraps your body in the towel, relishing in the expanses of skin he feels in this fleeting moment.

“can i have a peanut butter and jelly?” you stand next to jay, drying yourself off before tossing the towel into the laundry bin next to the back door, skin now mostly dry with a grumbling stomach.

“whatever you want,” jay smiles, leading the way into the kitchen where he begins grabbing items skillfully, knowing the layout of sunghoon’s kitchen better than sunghoon himself.

sunghoon lags behind, cleaning up the area around the pool outside like a good step brother would. you hoist yourself onto the kitchen island, eyes trained down on jay as he settles the items next to you. he gives your thigh a small squeeze before he begins preparing your sandwich.

jake makes space for himself between your legs, pressing himself into you with a smile. “i’m hungry, angel,” he watches you with a look swimming in his eyes that you’ve seen often on jay, but infrequently on jake. jake is staring at you with want devouring his gaze, his hands resting on the outside of your thighs. “you gonna help me, baby?”

you blush at the implication, “what’re you hungry for?”

jake’s hand reach your waist, gently toying with the ties of your bikini bottoms, his touches burn against your skin, lighting everything aflame with his fingertips. jake leans in close, his lips ghosting over yours, his slightly labored breaths fanning across your skin. “take a guess.”

you shake your head lightly and jake quirks an eyebrow at your disagreement. jay glances over, chuckling deeply, the sound missing your ears as all of your sense are dialed in to jake’s body hovering over you.

jake moves his hands from the strings of your bikini, instead resting them on the inside of your thighs, “don’t even need to take these off, do i, baby?” jake hooks a single finger in the fabric, tugging it to the side, revealing your wet pussy. “mm, jay, look at that,” jake groans, head falling back as he glances at his best friend. jay feels his dick stir at the sight of you exposed for the two of them. “look at you, dirty girl,” jay quips, cutting your sandwich into two triangles before handing you one of them in the middle of the kitchen, where anyone could walk in. “eat,” jay commands and you nod, not knowing the word was for both you and the man between your legs.

jake dives in, testing the waters with a kitten lick at your clit. your hand stills, unable to bring the sandwich to your mouth. jake notices your reaction, flattening his tongue and licking a long stripe this time, dipping through your folds. he moans against your heat, a rumble you feel all the way up in the crown of your head.

“what did i say?” jay asks you and you hesitantly meet his gaze, seeing blown out pupils meet your own. he guides your hand to your mouth, forcing you to take a bite. jay uses his other hand to push jake’s head further into your core. you groan, barely able to swallow your food as you clamp your thighs around jake’s head.

you groan, eyes watching jay and his gaze that’s trained on you. “mmf–” he shoves the sandwich back into your mouth as jake takes a devastatingly long lick before dipping his tongue into your hole. you choke down the bite of food, glancing down at jake, his need to eat you out pouring out in droves that wash over all three of you. jay’s hand never leaves the back of his head, encouraging jake to go deeper.

you hear the backdoor slam gently as sunghoon enters, drying his hair off with a towel. he glances over at the three of you, fire stirring in his stomach as his body goes completely still. sunghoon feels stupidly angry at the display in front of him. his two stupidly horny best friends truly couldn’t keep their hands to themselves, could they? even after he’d endlessly warned them?

sunghoon is determined to show them who you belong to.

“all three of you,” he booms, tossing the towel on the floor, “upstairs. now.”

jake continues lapping at your heat, adding a finger along with his mouth as it dips further into your warm walls. jay yanks him off by his hair, shoving him towards the staircase, knowing how absolutely pussy drunk his best friend gets, a feeling that makes every sound fall on deaf ears when speaking to the blonde man. jake looks dazed before seeing sunghoon standing there, not realizing the man had come inside, considering he was neck deep in your pussy. jay takes the sandwich from your hand and sets it to the side, helping you off the island, no urgency in his actions. jake nearly dashes upstairs, the slightest bit afraid of sunghoon and what he’s going to do, not that he’d ever admit it outloud.

you adjust your bottoms so that they’re covering you fully once more, shame covering your features, cascading over your cheeks and reaching the tips of your ears.

jay steps upstairs slowly, not sparing a glance back at you and sunghoon, who stand alone near the backdoor. sunghoon raises an eyebrow at you, “oh, now you’re shy?” his tone drips venom.

you shake your head lightly before turning to the stairs and trudging up, belly burning at the thought of what sunghoon has planned. you find sunghoon’s room, stepping inside and you’re greeted with the familiarity of his space, one you often spent a lot of time in. mostly teasing sunghoon, pushing him to his breaking point, lingering as long as possible before he’d shove you out with a frenzied lock of the door.

jay is sprawled out on sunghoon’s desk chair, swaying back and forth lazily. jake is sitting on the edge of the bed, eyes trained on the door. you join jake on the bed, meeting his eye for a moment, the fear and need in your eyes overflowing with blink of your long lashes.

“hoon, please don’t be mad–” you beg him, eyes wide as you watch him enter, the familiar sound of the lock twisting behind him.

the anger ruminating off of sunghoon’s body crowds the small space, soaking the air. “i told you two idiots to stay away from her, didn’t i?!” jay rolls his eyes.

“hoon, be for real man. you really thought that would keep us away?” jake watches his younger best friend with a confused look.

“jake hasn’t got his dick wet in so long, hoon, let him have this,” jake throws a pillow towards jay, one which hits him square in the face. “i’m trying to help you, asshole!”

“hoonie, i’m sorry,” you plead, “it just happened.”

“it’s not hoonie anymore, you lost that privilege.”

your face runs cold at his words, sniffling lightly under his intense gaze, “h–hoon, i’m really sorry–”

“yeah? you’re sorry? you’re fucking sorry?” he mocks, squishing your face with one of his veiny hands, “you’re not fucking sorry, you’re just sorry you got caught. but i’ll make you sorry. show you who you really belong to.”

you whimper, heat rushing to your core, nearly dripping out of your bottoms. “lucky for you, i’m a good step brother, so i’ll let you have your fun with jay and jake, princess. just not behind my damn back, and certainly not without me,” he releases his grip on your face. jay glances at hoon, confusion lacing his features. “what are you waiting for, jongseong? i’m giving you permission, just this once.”

“yeah? and what if she doesn’t want it just once, hoonie?”

sunghoon cracks one of his knuckles absentmindedly, his eyes narrowing in annoyance as he hovers above you. “well too fucking bad, that’s not her decision to make.”

jay chuckles darkly as he rises and approaches you, his figure towering over you as he stands next to hoon. “you want us to make you feel good, baby?” he holds your cheek with one of his large hands and you unconsciously lean into his touch, nodding as you look up at him. “daddy will give you whatever you want, angel.”

you moan at the name and glance at sunghoon for guidance, finding him already watching you with a trained gaze. he gives you the smallest nod of permission, the sight of his possessiveness sending wetness dripping into the fabric covering your core. your brain is torn between focusing on the two men in front of you, their presence completely overwhelming you with how close their bodies are pressed to you, not knowing whether to watch jay or sunghoon.

“you want jake to finish eating you out, pretty?” jay strokes his thumb over your chin as he watches your face change, heating up a bit.

“yes.”

“yes what?”

“yes, daddy,” jay groans, “that’s right, good girl.” he lets go of your face as he comes to sit behind you, spreading his legs out so you can sit flush to his back. the hardness of his dick presses into your back and you groan, glancing back at him with lust clouding your gaze.

jake settles himself between your legs, his touch gentle as he finally unties the flimsy material clothing your pussy, tugging on the ties until you reveal yourself to him. jake bites on the plush of your inside thigh, “fuuuuck, look at this pussy.” jake interrupts his own groan by diving in, resuming his movements from merely moments earlier. he grips your thigh tightly with one hand, the other joining his tongue inside your wet heat with two fingers now. he scissors inside, searching for the spot inside you that no doubt makes your eyes roll back.

sunghoon watches your face, gripping your chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing your eyes to focus on him. “only look at me, slut.” you feel your eyes tearing up a little at his harsh words. “aw, my baby’s gonna cry because i called her a slut? couldn’t even be patient for your brother, had to go fuck my friends because you couldn’t get me to fuck you quick enough, could you? dumb whore.”

you can feel the thoughts slipping from your mind as sunghoon stares deep into your eyes, your own bubbling with tears as he degrades you, the words filling your mind with a mix of shame and desperation. desperation to feel his hands on you, hurting you in the most delicious way then soothing the emotional welts with kisses and a cock kissing your cervix.

jay reaches around your body, palming your tits in his hands, fondling them gently outside of your top. “i’ll fuck you nice and deep, princess, don’t worry.” jay whispers as he trails kisses down your jaw, interspersing harsh sucks in with his actions, hoping to leave a mark.

you feel almost brainless as he touches you, and jake continues working your pussy with his mouth, “mmh– daddy,” you groan as jay pinches one of your nipples through the fabric. you reach behind you, swiftly untying your bikini top and yanking it off your body. “needy girl,” jay presses a kiss behind your ear as he continues his movements, his need growing after feeling you bare beneath his hands. sunghoon takes your top from your hands, throwing it somewhere in the room before catching your lips in a searing, passionate, possessive kiss.

sunghoon, sunghoon, sunghoon is all you can think as he presses against you, hands holding your face tightly, like if he doesn’t you’ll slip from his grasp.

jake’s nose brushes against your clit as he dips back into your heat with a particularly strong lick, fingers reaching deep and finally prodding against your sweet spot. “eugh!–” you moan against sunghoon’s mouth, gasping lightly as jake repeats the same motion. jake grins against your pussy at your reaction, noticing the way your legs are beginning to tremble as the thigh he’s not holding tries to close in on his head. sunghoon pulls away, keeping his face close to yours, his shallow breaths ghosting over your lips. “my naughty little sister, look at you.”

“sweet girl is close, jakey,” jay bites at your neck, “come on, pup, work your magic.” jake’s ears burn at the nickname tumbling from jay’s lips, his cock stirring as he continues his ministrations on your sopping wet core. “you gonna cum for me?” jake speaks into your pussy, the vibrations enhancing your pleasure and you nod fervently, “yes, jake!”

sunghoon’s hand digs into jake’s hair and yanks him off of your clit, causing you to nearly scram from the loss of contact, “h-hoonie please!”

“naughty girls don’t get to cum, do they jay?” sunghoon watches jay with a small smirk adorning his plump lips, watching jay’s nose twitch slightly. “i think she deserves it, making jakey feel so good down there.”

sunghoon glances down at jake, who he now notices is panting loudly, fighting to dive back in to lick further at your core. “he’s close, too, hoon, don’t blue ball our friend.” jake whimpers the longer sunghoon holds him by his hair, far away from any skin that he can suck and bite.

“fine,” sunghoon relents, glancing up at jay, “but no more requests from you, daddy,” he says the nickname with a mocking tone, watching his best friend continue to fondle your breasts lightly. you gasp at jake’s return to your core, the man between your legs quickly slides two fingers in beside his tongue. “and you keep your eyes on me when you cum.” you nod quickly, babbling a small, “yes, hoonie,” breathlessly.

jake prods against that special spot in your gummy walls repeatedly, licking deep inside next to his two fingers. his nose rubbing incessantly against your clit paired with jay biting your skin and gripping your breasts has you tumbling to the edge. jay aids you, pinching harshly against one of your nipples as he whispers, “go ahead, babygirl, let go.”

your eyes dart to sunghoon, who’s already staring at you with need swimming in his irises. you hold his gaze as you cum with a loud moan, body going limp as the pair continue their motions, working you through your orgasm. your vision is blurry and limbs fuzzy as you come down from your high, body bathed in heat as you still feel three pairs of hands all over you. you whine as you come back into your mind, trying to push jake away.

sunghoon groans lowly at the sight of you cumming under his best friends, trying to keep his composure, vowing to himself to make you cum harder.

jake sits up, a cocky grin on his lips as he collects the cum from his face with his fingers and shoves them into jay’s mouth. you lean back, watching as jay sucks it all off of jake’s fingers. you blush, body feeling hot knowing he’s eagerly sucking your essence off the other man’s gorgeous fingers. jay pulls off with a pop, his attention turning back to you.

“you gonna let us fuck you, baby?” you glance up at your stepbrother for permission. sunghoon brings his hands to grip onto your hips, rubbing his thumbs on your skin, each movement spreading fire across your body as he burns you with his gentle yet possessive touch. “is that what you want?” you nod, looking up at sunghoon with wide eyes, “want all three of you,” you tell him with a pout. sunghoon groans lowly, masking it by kissing your lips chastely.

“my baby,” he whispers with a smile, one that hides his need to take you right here in front of both of his friends. sunghoon decides to let you have your fun, knowing this will be the last time you fuck anyone besides him for the rest of your life. “just this once, okay?” you nod with a smile that matches his own, hiding your need to be claimed by your step brother deep within your expression, “yes, sir.”

a moan escapes his throat, “fuck, don’t call me that right now or i’ll kick these two idiots out and take you all for myself.”

“later?” he nods in response before stepping back, watching with a trained gaze as you interact with his best friends. you reach out to play with the hem of jake’s swim shorts, “go ahead,” jay smiles, always wanting to please you. you see hoon nod at you from the corner of your eye, so you take it as permission to continue.

you pull jake’s shorts down slowly, gasping as his cock springs up, hard and veiny, his mushroom tip blushing as you take in the sight of him, so so long with a decent girth.

“you too, jay,” you pull yourself from his lap, crawling to the center of the bed. you watch jay tug his own shorts down, tossing them somewhere across the room. jay’s thickness alone makes your eyes go wide, knowing he’s going to absolutely stretch you out with how wide he is. his length is nothing to scoff at either, especially not knowing he’ll be rearranging your guts shortly enough.

jake glances over at sunghoon for a moment, “can i fuck her in the ass, hoon?”

sunghoon doesn’t reply, glancing at jay for a moment with a quirked eyebrow. jay pushes jake onto the bed, forcing his best friend to settle against the pillows. “no, i’m fucking her ass.” jay tells him, lifting you like you weigh nothing, groaning as you take in the sight of his bulging biceps. “mmh– you’re so strong…” you drool as you watch jake stroke himself a few times to ensure he’s fully hard for you.

jay lifts you and jake holds his dick, the two working in tandem to slide you onto jake’s length, the action making you wonder just for a moment if they’ve done this before. his tip sits against your hole for a moment, pulling a whimper from your lips and returning your mind to the present moment, before he’s breaching your wet heat, the stretch delicious as you sink lower and lower until you feel his pelvis pressed against your own.

sunghoon takes his shorts off before kneeling next to the three of you, the sight of him being even bigger than both of his friends has you drooling and leaking around jake’s cock.

“fuck–” you moan, body feeling limp, his strong hands on your hips being the only thing to hold you upright. jake loses all restraint after feeling himself bottoming out inside of you, his insistent thrusts making you fall into his chest. “fuck, baby,” jake groans, eyes rolling back at the feeling of your tight hole wrapped around his aching dick. “pussy’s heaven.”

jay moves while you’re still distracted, tip poking against your tightened rim. your eyes go wide, glancing back at him. “it’s okay, baby, it’ll feel good, don’t worry, princess,” he presses a kiss to your lower back to soothe you. jay holds your ass cheeks apart so he can watch the slide. he spits down on your fluttering hole so he can slip in easier, pressing just the tip inside as you’re rocked against jake’s length. “ah!–” you scream at the intrusion, his cock nearly splitting you open as jay stills for just a moment. he rubs your cheeks with his thumb, nearly cumming right there from feeling how tight you’re wrapped around his cock. “jay, ‘s too big,” you mumble.

“you can take it, angel girl,” he tells you, his weeping dick being further enveloped in your impossibly tight hole as you whimper and squirm beneath him.

sunghoon interrupts any further ramblings about any of them being too big by bringing your face down to his length and tapping your cheek with his cock. he smacks your cheek again before resting it against your lips for a moment. you eagerly open up, taking him in. sunghoon groans at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth sucking him in so easily. he fists your hair in his hand, beginning to manipulate your mouth up and down his cock, knowing you’re probably already too fucked out to be able to bob up and down on your own accord.

“there you go,” jay whispers once he’s fully inside. you feel double stuffed, no, triple stuffed. the sensation is completely new to you as you cry out with nonsensical pants and moans, gripping onto sunghoon’s thick thighs.

you feel their cocks inside you moving in tandem, jay more controlled and pointed as jake nearly crumbles inside of you, all control slipping out of him the moment he breached your warm heat. sunghoon is controlled with his thrusts in and out of your mouth, holding strong in his resolve despite how fucking warm and tight your mouth feels wrapped around him. the push and pull is delicious, your body being tugged this way and that, sandwiched between the three men deliciously.

jake can feel jay’s thick cock through the thin wall that separates them, “fuck, you should feel this pussy, jay,” jake moans, “bet she could fit us both.”

“mm, our good princess could fit both of us in her tiny hole, couldn’t she?” jay teases, the words nearly making you drip down jake’s length. you can feel jake’s thrusts becoming even sloppier, and jay is speeding up behind you. sunghoon has switched from using your hair to move you against his length to thrusting up into your mouth instead, reaching deeper than before, his cockhead fucking against the back of your throat deliciously. jay reaches around, thumbing at your hardened nub with practiced expertise, biting into your shoulder.

you hear sunghoon’s voice from above you, dark and biting with his words, “don’t you dare fucking cum inside, jake.”

“fuck, i–i’m close,” jake groans, his thrusts never ceasing. you can sense it in the air, both men that are pressed so deep inside of you are nearing their ends, with sunghoon not far behind. jake becomes sloppier, panting loudly in need as jay keeps pressing himself deeper, forcing his cock to stretch your hole further with his girth in every move.

“jay,” jake groans and jay tugs you off jake’s dick before you feel liquid hitting your stomach. jake paints your abdomen with cum, watching in awe as it slides down your soft skin slowly. jay plants kisses all over your shoulderblade, “fuck, you fit so tight around me, baby, gonna cum inside this tight little asshole of yours.”

jay’s thrusts pull you away from sunghoon’s cock. your step brother moves instead to begin fondling your tits with practiced intention, his grip sending shockwaves through your system, “fuck, daddy–” jay cums deep inside, pressing his hips flush against your as you milk his cock.

jay pants, glancing up at sunghoon, who is watching him expectantly. jay pulls out slowly, watching the cum drip from your hole with a deep groan. “fuck, look at that.”

“alright, move out of the way.” sunghoon commands to the duo after only a beat, still massaging your breasts and tweaking your nipples, “i don’t care where you go, you can watch for all i care, just get the fuck off my bed.”

jake, tumbles off the bed onto the floor, utterly spent and too tired to even stand. jay takes a seat at the desk, watching with a lust filled gaze.

“gonna fuck you the way you deserve, baby. you’ll never want another man to even look at you once i slip inside…” you open your eyes again to see sunghoon sitting before you. his dick sits hard right in front of your eyes. now, no longer distracted by the two other men that were once surrounding you, the sight stirs heat inside your stomach, his girth and length surpassing both of his friends that just destroyed you from the inside out.

“fuck, hoonie–” you stare up at him, tongue nearly lolling out of your mouth at the sight of his length.

“my sweet angel girl,” sunghoon coos at you, a different, new emotion taking over his previous jealousy and possessiveness, “waited so long for this pussy, can’t believe you made your brother wait for you.” he wraps your legs around his waist, holding them there as he presses his tip against your fluttering hole. you groan at the sensation, trying to wiggle your hips to entice him to slip inside. he tightens his grip on the underside of your knees, a warning for your disobedience.

your eyes roll back as he pulls away before yelping as he smacks your clit with his bulbous tip. you glance down at his cock sitting near where you oh so desperately need him, the veins matching the ones on his hands that make you groan.

you’d gotten that part right with your attempted sunghoon replica dildo.

“hoonie,” you whimper, “‘m sorry…”

“i know, baby,” sunghoon captures your lips in a gentle kiss, “but now that i have you, you better not even think about leaving.” he punctuates his words by pressing his tip inside, almost cumming on the spot at the feeling of finally having you enveloping his dick in your perfect little hole. “fuck, pussy’s so perfect and i only have the tip in.” you’re nearly able to cum again just from the feeling of his mushroom head fitting snugly inside your abused hole.

“fuck, hoonie,” you whimper, grasping at his large biceps for stability as he slides in achingly slow, wanting to savor the feeling of every part of your walls sucking him in. “need you.”

“need you too baby.” sunghoon presses kisses on your cheeks, moving one of his hands from the underside of your knee to your lower back, angling you closer. you feel him even deeper inside you with this action and you glance down, seeing even more length left. “you have all of me now, don’t even worry angel. hoonie will take care of you.”

“mmh– sir you’re so big,” you whimper as sunghoon finally bottoms out inside of you.

“yeah? my baby’s dildos she got as a stand in for me aren’t as big as the real thing, are they?” sunghoon taunts, a wave of embarrassment flooding over you. you shake your head, “they aren’t–”

your sentence is halted by sunghoon pulling all the way out, just the tip still sitting inside your warm walls, before shoving back in, his tip bruising your cervix with a single thrust.

“i know my baby, you just wanted your big brother so bad that you had to get one you thought was the same size, didn’t you?”

you shake your head, “n-no!”

“don’t lie, princess,” sunghoon continues pulling all the way out to the tip before sliding back inside with a quick movement, the action yanking gasps and moans from your throat. “it’s okay, angel. but i need you to throw all of those away now, okay?”

you nod fervently, wanting so deeply to please sunghoon, wanting his big cock to stretch you open like you’ve fantasized about for months now, never before having the courage to do more than a little light teasing with him.

“h-hoonie,” you whine, staring up at him with wide eyes and blown out pupils, the sight of you staring up at him with want and need and lust swimming in your gaze making him nearly bust on the spot. “i know, pretty, hoonie’s got you,” sunghoon shoves himself back in your heat, stilling for a moment before moving his hand that’s holding your leg to your abdomen, pressing against your lower stomach. “look at that, angel.” you feel a bit of drool dribble out of your mouth at the sight of him pressed so deep inside, a bulge easily visible. “pretty little girl was made for her step brother’s cock, wasn’t she?”

you groan as he somehow pushes even deeper into you, “h-hoon!” you scream, panting as he takes one of your hands and slides it to meet the delicate skin of your tummy, feeling him prodding inside your hole so deep that you feel him on the outside, too. “mm, that’s my good girl, taking everything i give you.” sunghoon begins thrusting again, the harsh movements shoving you up and down along the bed as the headboard slams against the wall with each yank of his cock in your tight hole.

sunghoon slides his hand down from his tip protruding through down to your clit, rubbing in a skilled pattern along your hardened nub. “mmf– fuck!”

“that’s it baby, gonna milk this cock, aren’t you?” you’re unable to answer, clamping tightly around him, making sunghoon’s balls feel ready to burst. “hoonie! i-i’m cumming–” you cry, staring up at him with teary eyes. the sensations overwhelm you as he pounds deep into you, rubbing your clit with rough fingers, hoping to chase your impending orgasm. the rubber band in your tummy snaps and you cum with a loud moan and a choked sob, clutching onto sunghoon’s biceps to keep yourself stable.

“fuck, baby, so fucking tight,” sunghoon’s eyes are clamped shut, head leaned back as he chases his own release as you encase his cock in a vice grip. “gonna cum so deep inside you, baby, and you’re gonna take it all, my good girl.” one particularly sharp thrust pulls a loud moan from his throat as he stills, pressing his pelvis flush with yours. cum paints your fluttering walls with long spurts, seemingly never ending.

sunghoon doesn’t move, keeping himself pressed as deep inside as possible. your head returns from the clouds slowly, smiling at the feeling of being absolutely stuffed.

“mm, hoonie–” you smile softly, leaning to hide your face against his arm.

“my good girl,” he cups your face with one hand, tracing your cheek with his thumb gently. “alright tweedledee and tweedledum, get the fuck out.” sunghoon glances at jay and jake, who both have fresh spurts of cum painted across their abdomens.

you look at them both, giggling lightly, “first and last time someone’s looking at you like that,” he tells you with conviction, his voice low, before capturing your lips in a gentle, slow kiss.

“you’ve always been a weird one, hoon,” jay teases, cleaning himself with tissues before throwing the box to jake. “and that’s saying a lot, because we know jakey boy here.”

“fuck off, jay,” jake snides, “you like it when i put my fingers in your mouth.”

sunghoon raises an eyebrow at his best friends, “you two are strange…” he chuckles, still nestled deep in your warm pussy. “can’t believe i actually allowed you to fuck my girl.” he makes a disgusted face before glancing between the pair with a steely gaze. the phrase ‘my girl’ makes your pulse quicken and your face feel hot. “this was one time, you understand me? had to show you fuckers how it’s done, you didn’t even make her cum again after you both got your dicks wet. if you even so much as breathe in her direction after this, i’ll chop your fucking dicks off.”

sunghoon smirks lowly as he feels you grow wet again at his possessiveness, still fucked out beneath him but almost fully coherent. the way he clings tightly to you even after cumming inside you makes your heart flutter against your ribcage.

“jesus christ, okay!” jay raises his hand in a surrendering motion, rising to his feet. he leads jake to the door, shoving him out in front of him. “i don’t like when he puts his fingers in my mouth, by the way.” jay says, watching hoon.

“sure you don’t, jay.” sunghoon winks at him, cock beginning to grow once more from the warm heat he’s still wrapped in, “close the door.” jay shuffles out, shutting the door behind him. 

sunghoon returns his attention to you, a gentle smile gracing his plump lips, showing you a glance of his pretty fangs. “hi, pretty girl.”

“hi, hoonie,” you giggle, watching him with adoration in your gaze.

“you kept me waiting all that time, what a tease you are, baby.” sunghoon shakes his head lightly, beginning to thrust again, fucking the cum mixture back into your hole.

“i–i was scared,” you admit through gentle thrusts, little ah ah ah’s and grunts and whimpers dotted between your words, “didn’t know if you liked me back, hoonie…”

sunghoon groans lowly at your admission, his heart hurting a bit at your words as he stuffs himself deep inside with slower, harsher thrusts, “why wouldn’t i like you back, baby? you’re absolutely perfect.”

“i didn’t know if it was in the same way as me,” you tell him, wide eyes watching his face.

“it is, baby,” sunghoon kisses you, slow and gentle. you feel every single vein adorning his length as he rocks in and out of you pointedly, “i like you so so much, need you to be my girl.”

“are you really gonna cut their dicks off?”

you moan as his thrusts increase in speed and become rougher, “had to show them who you belong to, since they had no fucking problem touching what’s mine behind my back.”

“mm– i’m all yours, hoonie,” you cry out as he tweaks one of your nipples, the other hand running up and down the length of your body as if he’s trying to memorize every curve.

“yeah?” the words make his cock twitch, “gonna cum inside you again, baby, so deep that i knock you up, my beautiful little sister.”

you moan loudly, so close to the edge already from his pointed thrusts and calculated finger on your nub, “yesyesyes! please hoonie fill me up again, need to feel your cum inside me again! need it so bad–” you beg with your wide eyes, babbling endlessly because you’re oh so close, and he’s already fucked you out of your brain, “please fill me up, sir, please please please!” your hands splay over his back, a particularly harsh thrust making you dig your nails into his perfect skin instinctively, not wanting him to pull away.

“fuck, baby,” he groans, “give me another one, you can do it,” his voice is commanding this time, pulling you the edge and propelling you over, cum rushing out of you. the tightness of your heat around his dick and the pain of the nails raking along his back has sunghoon shoving in deep and cumming once more, pushing it as deep as it can possibly go in your wet pussy.

sunghoon crumbles, falling gently atop your still shaking body. you relish at the feeling of his sticky, sweaty chest laying atop your own. peace washes over you, knowing the push and pull you and your step brother have been engaging in for months is finally over.

“fuck, i love you,” sunghoon presses kisses across the expanse of your face. “i’ve waited so long and you’re finally mine.”

“yours?” your gentle voice is music to sunghoon’s ears.

sunghoon presses a kiss into the junction of your neck and shoulder, sucking a bruise, “yes, mine.” he says with finality, and the way your eyes go wide at his words makes him think you must love him, too.

“mine forever, baby.”

[harrysfolklore]

driving lessons - op81

summary: oscar piastri teaches his girlfriend how to drive for the first time

MASTERLIST | JOIN MY PATREON

Life is full or ironies, and the fact that your boyfriend is an F1 driver and you don't even know how to drive is definitely one of them.

You always found it funny how someone who could navigate the most challenging race circuits with ease was dating someone who couldn't even navigate a parking lot, and was utterly terrified of being behind the wheel.

"I just can't believe you don't know how to drive," Oscar said while you were having dinner at his place one night.

"Excuse me, mister. Not all of us dreamed of driving cars for a living since we were kids," you teased, making him chuckle.

"Well, I guess I'll have to teach you how to drive, since that's what I do for a living."

You laughed at his enthusiasm, shaking your head. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm a lost cause when it comes to driving. I get anxious just thinking about it."

"Oh come on," he threw his head back, "I'll be a great teacher. We'll start slow, maybe in an empty parking lot. If it doesn't work out, we can stop anytime."

You thought about it for a second, you were at an age that it was downright embarrassing to not know how to drive, and maybe Oscar could actually help you face your fear of being behind the wheel.

"Okay," you agreed, "But you have to promise not to laugh at me, and we're not using a one of your McLaren luxury cars."

Oscar's eyes lit up with excitement. "Deal! We'll use something more… beginner-friendly."

"Beginner-friendly?" you raised an eyebrow, "Like what? A go-kart?"

"Hey, don't knock it till you try it," he laughed, "But no, I was thinking more along the lines of a nice, safe, regular car."

"Fine, but you have to be patient with me," you warned, pointing a finger at him, "I mean it, Oscar. One hint of frustration and I’m out."

He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I promise. Scout's honor."

"You were never a scout," you narrowed your eyes playfully.

"Minor detail," he waved off your accusation, making you laugh, "Seriously though, I think you'll surprise yourself. You're tougher than you give yourself credit for."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," you retorted, but you couldn't help but smile.

"Maybe not, but it might get me dessert," he shrugged, leaning closer, "And maybe a makeout session before we head to bed."

You threw your head back in laughter, grabbing his cheeks playfully and pecking his lips a couple of times.

"You're a teenager," you said, shaking your head. "But fine, you get dessert, and you snogging session. Just remember, no racing techniques, I don't need to learn how to drift around corners."

"Drifting? In your first lesson?" he placed a hand on his chest in mock offense, "I'm hurt you think so little of me."

"When are we doing this again?" you said, moving to place your empty plates in the dishwasher.

"How about this weekend?" Oscar hoped off his stool, helping you clean around the kitchen, "I'll find us a nice, empty parking lot, and we can take it from there."

"Oscar Piastri, F1 driver with podiums to his name will teach his girlfriend how to drive in a parking lot," you said as you shook your head, "How ironic."

Saturday morning arrived and it was time for your first driving lesson. After breakfast, you and Oscar headed to the empty parking lot in a small, compact car for the lesson. It was far less intimidating than one of his sleek, luxurious cars.

"Alright, let's get started," he said, opening the driver's side door for you. You took a deep breath and slid into the seat, adjusting it to fit your height, Oscar got in the passenger seat and handed you the keys.

"First things first," he began, his voice calm and steady, "Let's go over the basics. Adjust your mirrors so you can see clearly, and get comfortable with the controls."

You nodded, following his instructions. Once you were settled, he guided you through starting the car and putting it into gear.

"Wait," you said before starting the car, "You're teaching your dummy of a girlfriend how to drive a regular car, okay? Don't expect some professional Formula 1 driver stuff from me."

"I promise, just the basics," Oscar chuckled, shaking his head, "We won't be racing anyone today."

"Okay, here goes nothing," you took a deep breath and turned the key in the ignition, the engine coming to life with a low hum.

"Great job," Oscar said with a small smile, "Now, put the car in drive and slowly take your foot off the brake."

You hesitated, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. "What if I mess up?"

"You won't," he said confidently, "And even if you do, it's all part of the learning process. Just take it slow."

You took a deep breath and lifted your foot off the brake. The car began to roll forward and for a moment, everything seemed fine until you pressed the gas pedal a bit too hard. The car jerked forward, causing you to panic and slam on the brakes.

"Whoa, easy there," Oscar said, "You're not at Silverstone, remember?"

"This is so much harder than it looks," you huffed, feeling your frustration bubble up, "How do you make it seem so effortless?"

"Years of practice and maybe a little natural talent," he winked, "But seriously, you're doing fine. It's all about getting a feel for the car, let's try it again."

Taking a deep breath, you eased off the brake and gently pressed the gas pedal. This time, the car moved forward smoothly, and you couldn't help but smile at the small victory.

"See? You're getting it!" Oscar encouraged. "Now, let's try a gentle turn. Just steer to the right."

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, turning it slowly to the right. The car responded, and you managed to navigate the turn without any major issues. But as you straightened out, you accidentally hit the windshield wiper lever, causing them to whip back and forth at full speed.

Oscar burst out laughing, and you couldn't help but join in, despite your embarrassment.

"Well, at least we know the wipers work!" he joked.

"Ugh, I feel stupid," you groaned, fumbling to turn off the wipers.

"It's okay, baby," he leaned in to peck your cheek quickly.

"Stop kissing me, I'll get distracted," you teased.

"Okay, okay," he said, composing himself, "Let's try another lap around the parking lot. This time, no wiper incidents."

You nodded, determined to get the hang of it. You practiced driving around the empty lot, getting more comfortable with each turn and stop.

As the lesson continued, you found yourself improving bit by bit, though there were still moments of frustration.

"Ugh, why won't this stupid thing go where I want it to?" you groaned, gripping the steering wheel tightly.

"Hey, it's okay," Oscar said soothingly. "You're doing great. Just remember to relax your grip a bit. The car will respond better if you're not strangling the wheel."

You did as he said, and you found yourself driving more comfortably around the parking lot, improving with your turns and stops.

"You know," he said at one point, "If you keep this up, you'll be ready to join the grid next season."

You laughed, shaking your head. "Yeah, right. I'll leave the racing to you, thank you very much."

"Fair enough," he said, grinning, "It would be really hard to fight with my girlfriend for the championship."

"Is your girlfriend Max Verstappen and I'm just finding out?" you teased, making him laugh.

"That's a secret I'll never tell," he joked, causing you both to burst into laughter.

After a few more laps around the parking lot, you were feeling more confident behind the wheel. Until the final challenge of the day approached: parking the car.

"Let’s try parking," he suggested after a while, "Find a spot and take it slow."

You spotted an empty space and carefully guided the car into it, but misjudged the angle and ended up crooked. You groaned in frustration. "Why is parking so hard?"

Oscar laughed, shaking his head. "Well, parking an F1 car in the garage is definitely easier, no tight spaces to worry about."

"Ha-ha, very funny," you retorted, but couldn't help but laugh along with him, "Alright, let me try again."

You pulled out and tried parking again, failing to get the car neatly within the lines. "How was that?"

"Okay, so maybe parking isn't your strong suit yet," he teases, "Good thing you're not in a pit stop competition."

"Fine, I had enough for today," you said, unbuckling your seat belt, "I'm ready to go back to being your passenger princess."

Oscar laughed, getting out of the passenger seat and switching positions with you.

"You did great, really," Oscar said once he settled in the drivers seat, leaning over to kiss you, "I'm proud of you, you know. You really pushed through your fear today."

"And we're both still alive so that's a good thing," you joked, making him laugh, "Thank you for being a great teacher, baby."

"All I did was sit here and provide moral support, it's not like I know anything about driving or cars," he teased, "You did all the hard work."

You rolled your eyes with affection, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Maybe next time we'll try an actual road," he suggested.

"Or maybe you can teach me how to do a proper donut," you said, making him throw his head back in laughter.

"Only if you promise not to tell the team."