#forged wheels for cars

[k7forged]

K7 Forged Wheels is a premier destination for alloy wheel enthusiasts, specializing in crafting high-quality forged wheels that redefine automotive aesthetics and performance. With a commitment to precision engineering and innovative design, our wheels epitomize strength, style, and sophistication. Explore our extensive collection at www.k7forged.com and experience the perfect fusion of form and function for your vehicle.

[calebeliason]

@alfaromeousa @alfa995 @alfaromeogiulia

[rockettwheels]

High-Quality Kiln Car Wheels for Brick & Ceramic Industries - Rockett Inc

Rockett Inc. offers top-tier kiln car wheels, expertly crafted for the brick and ceramic industries. Our kiln car wheels ensure optimal performance and longevity in high-temperature environments, supporting efficient and reliable production processes.

[rueizu]

The details display of XT177

[sytoran]

Could I request a Natasha x reader where R and Nat are driving home from a party but their car breaks down so they call someone to come help them fix it and while they’re waiting they fuck outside on the back of the car…strap on pls

𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝟎𝟏𝟎 — 𝐏𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐄𝐗

kinktober day 010 | milf!natasha x fem!mechanic!reader

natasha's had a completely shit day, and the last straw is when her car breaks down on the way home. the unbelievably sexy mechanic who shows up to fix her car makes it an unforgettable night.

note. i might've changed the plot so R is the mechanic. trust me on that decision.

cont. strap-on use, daddy kink, horniness, hot mechanic stuff

word count. 3435 (yall are getting fed)

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

In her weathered thirties, Natasha had retired as an Avenger and chose a life that had always been nothing more than a distant dream. 

By adopting two beautiful children and becoming a mother, it was almost like she was flipping off the Red Room for what they had done to her. It was an act of justice, a long sought-after victory, throwing away her past but embracing the lessons it had taught her.

However, despite how much the future she carved for herself had changed, one thing hadn’t — and that was the people who had been by her side throughout her journey to normalcy.

Kate, that human embodiment of a golden retriever, was all about ‘bringing the Avengers together, old and new’, and ‘forging stronger bonds in the pursuit of justice’. Hence came the monthly parties that involved the wealth of Bishop Security, too much alcohol, and one too many bad decisions.

For Natasha, the party had spun out of control like a series of unfortunate events: From the raspberry martini Thor had spilled on her, to the ripped dress from a stupid dare from Rocket to climb the fence, and the incredibly awkward seven minutes in heaven with Bruce. 

Right now, the ex-Avenger wanted nothing more than to dive under the warm blankets and close her eyes and shut the world out. Go home to her two bundles of joy. Be engulfed in the warmth of comfort and release. Maybe even let Liho sleep on the bed for once.

She needs to get back home a little faster. Natasha accelerates.

Her eyes are on the road, gripping the steering wheel with a steely frown. The road is dark, the lamps are flickering. There’s a thought lingering in the back of her mind, like an itch that simply wouldn’t go away.

It was embarrassing to admit, but Natasha had done far worse: She was unarguably sexually frustrated. After saving the universe and transitioning into a life of motherhood, she hardly had any time to alleviate her stress in that kind of way.

Today was one of those days, then, where she would once again have to retreat into the confines of her shower and spend a little longer than she should. Or perhaps, dive under the sheets and reach into her bedside table for that plastic purple toy.

Natasha steps on the pedal a little harder. She accelerates again – the engine splutters.

"Fuck, shit, don't do this to me now," she growls, angrily slapping her steering wheel while a frown creases her eyebrows. 

It only takes the car three more streetlamps to absolutely die out on her, coming to a screeching halt, in the dead of the night, in the middle of nowhere. Comically, the sound of something fusing inside her engine follows right after.

Natasha lets the groan of frustration fall freely, forehead hitting the centre of the steering wheel. The resounding sound of the car honking echoes in the emptiness of the place, like a mockery of Natasha’s misfortune.

She climbs out of the car reluctantly, slowly lifting the bonnet open and staring blankly at the mechanical parts before her. 

Natasha was a woman of many capabilities, those of which included being able to assassinate three grown men with a pencil, speak fifteen languages fluently, raise two kids with an attitude more stubborn than hers, save the fucking world, in fact, but fixing cars was not one of them.

Gradually, the car parts in the engine began to look more and more like ancient hieroglyphs that Natasha would spend a lifetime trying to decipher.

She pulls out her cell phone to call someone for assistance, before realizing that basically all of her friends were likely piss-drunk at that stupid party, and would never pick up. (Okay, she also didn’t have a social life other than her ex-comrades in battle, but could you really blame Natasha?)

As the redhead closed her eyes, irritation danced in the darkness of her vision, flickering in specks of white and then burning red. Natasha resigns to her doomed fate.

Calling up the roadside assistance services would mean spending an insanely long amount of time waiting, then having her car towed to the auto-repair shop, henceforth allowing the mechanics there to actually fix up her car, and by the time she retreated into the warmth of her bedroom at home it would very much be far past midnight.

Pulling out her phone with a stately reluctance, Natasha searches up the nearest available mechanic services, dials in the designated number, and begins her wait for comfort and satisfaction.

***

If Natasha previously had any qualms or complaints about waiting for roadside assistance, her mouth was now sealed shut with lock and key. In fact, she would much rather let the mechanic that just arrived assist her in several other ways.

“Sorry for the wait, Ma’am, we were almost about to close shop,” you say, climbing out of the pickup truck then jumping down. 

You flick your hair out of your eyes and send a bright smile to your last client of the day, seemingly oblivious to the effect you had on the woman. “I’m Y/N, happy to be at your service.”

Now, Natasha certainly had her own suspicions that she wasn’t entirely straight, but those queries had been confirmed within a good five seconds.

It was too cliche to be real, almost. Natasha swallows as her eyes rake over your tight-fitting white tank top that showed off the most stunning bodily anatomy she had ever seen, each muscle carved from a meticulous sculptor, dirtied cargo pants hanging loose to reveal the band of a pair of black boxers. 

“Ma’am?” you repeat, lifting up a heavy toolbox with one hand, failing to notice that Natasha’s gaze is glued on to the flexed muscles of your right arm.

“O-oh,” the ex-Avenger mumbles in embarrassment – Oh, Yelena would cackle to see her like this – “Sorry, what was your question?”

You only tilt your head and give her a polite smile. “I was asking what seems to be the issue with your car.” 

Natasha nods vigorously, then walks stiffly towards her car. Her clammy hands struggle to lift the bonnet for a moment, and in a second you’re next to her, single-handedly lifting the cover with a thoughtful smile.

Natasha feels the heat rush to her cheeks and she looks away quickly. She was acting like a lovesick high school girl, for God’s sakes. Get it together, she chides. 

When she looks back up again, you have a wrench in hand, twirling it around. Natasha has her eyes glued to your tattoos and the way your fingers spin the tool.

“I’ll loosen this up a bit, see what we’re dealing with.” You say, fastening the wrench into place. Natasha barely has time to nod her acknowledgement before her breath gets stolen from her again.

The muscle of your forearm ripples like a satisfying wave when you jerk the wrench, and Natasha’s breath gets stolen away by the wind. She watches as your fingers expertly wrap around the tool, your other hand gripping the front of the car, and your next effort has Natasha getting wetter in places she shouldn’t.

“I think this part needs to be oiled,” you say, your even voice hauling Natasha out of her erotic fantasy. You look at your client curiously, innocently gesturing towards the toolbox next to her feet. “Would you be an angel and hand me the oiler?”

Angel.

Natasha’s heart races as she bends down to pick up your toolbox. (Okay, she definitely bends down a little too far, but she feels your eyes glued onto her ass, and she considers that a victory.) When she hands you the toolbox, your fingertips graze over her hand, and Natasha’s breath hitches a little too obviously.

By some holy deity’s work, you don’t comment or react to her squeak of surprise, and instead begin oiling up the engine of the car. Natasha flushes a dark red. Your grasp had been calloused, because of course it would be, experienced with handling cars and being rough—

The electricity that had run through her veins from that second of contact was comparable to Thor’s Mjolnir.

You have a little mishap when pouring the oil, the tube sliding in your grasp, and the car oil squirts from the nozzle and onto your front. You chuckle awkwardly, embarrassment tinging the tips of your ears.

Natasha thinks it’s the sweetest sound she’s ever heard, heart fluttering at your awkwardness. Once again, her libido catches up to her, and then Natasha’s eyeing your slick fingers (imagining it was a different type of slick), and the way your dampened shirt clung to your taut muscles.

Maybe you were doing it on purpose, too, facing Natasha as you lift up the hem of your shirt to squeeze out the oil. Her eyes feast on the hint of bare skin she can see, a defined V-line making itself known. 

“You don’t mind me working like this, I suppose?” you ask, a grin on your face. “I may look filthy, but I promise I’m excellent with my hands.”

“Show me, then,” Natasha replies loftily, almost second-nature with how the one-sided smirk creeps on to her face. Her skill of seduction was something that was ingrained into her bloodstream.

When you lay down onto the under-car roller and shift underneath the car to begin fixing it up, Natasha’s gaze darkens several hues and she lets her eyes roam over your body again.

She couldn’t tear her eyes off if she tried. She wanted to rake her nails over your taut muscles, watch them flex and ripple under her touch, hook her fingers in the belt-loop of your pants and tug it down—

—to see the unmistakable bulge on a strap-on in your boxers. Natasha licks her lips, zeroing in on the tantalizing sight. It looked big, even while hidden under the confines of your pants. She would take you so good, down her throat or up her cunt, until either of you orgasmed. 

Natasha gets lost in her thoughts, nearly drooling as she watched you work. Your tank top moved with every thrust of your arm into unscrewing a certain mechanical part, and the grease slid down the veins of your hands. 

The redhead has to sink her teeth into her bottom lip when you spread your legs for a more comfortable position, to stop herself from moaning out load. 

Natasha’s got it down bad, eyes once again on your bulge. Her panties are soaked, already, lewd thoughts flitting through her mind with every passing minute that you’re under there.

On the other hand, you were fighting a very different battle.

You weren’t stupid, no, not on any accounts. (Except for dating that one girlfriend who’d lit your auto-repair shop on fire when you broke up with her. But we don’t talk about past mistakes.) Right now, the woman you were attending to was none other than Natasha Romanoff.

Yes, the woman who had saved the universe. The woman who’d inspired you to say ‘fuck everyone else’ and chase your dreams. The woman on TV you’d spent more than a few nights thinking of, your hand in places you’d rather not specify.

More than that, you were quite sure that this woman, in a ripped dress that fucked your mind in ways it shouldn’t, wanted you to fuck her instead.

It was an uphill battle, your rationality versus your pathetic pretty-girl-want-to-fuck instinct. As you lay under Natasha’s car, working on the mechanical parts up there and getting grease all over your hands, you contemplated the reasons why logic was important.

Number One: Natasha Romanoff was an Avenger. If you pushed yourself onto her, she could very much knock you out before you could say ‘sorry’. As much as you prided yourself on your physique and brute force, you weren’t about to take on an ex-widow in a fight.

You look down for one second, as said woman steps a little closer to you, and you have to swallow to bite back an embarrassing sound. One of her hands was resting on your knee while you worked, and it took every cell of your existence not to start spasming under her touch.

Number Two: It was a violation of workplace guidelines. As much as the pay was shitty, you wouldn’t want to lose your job. You still had rent to pay, and you couldn’t keep hiding from your stick-in-the-ass landlord.

“Oh, that looks dirty,” Natasha comments, tone sultry as her hand creeps up higher on your leg. Your breath catches in your throat, grease staining your white shirt while your eyes quite nearly glaze over. 

I can show you dirty, your brain unhelpfully supplies, and you shake your head in a futile attempt to clear your head. 

Natasha, undetered, leans forward, chest grazing over your torso, the soft flesh of her breasts against your abdomen making your head spin.

Fuck, you just wanted to rip off her pretty dress and— Number Three: You were in public. Having sexual intercourse with your client right here and right now would likely end in a police report for vouyerism. Dingy apartment be gone, for you would be sleeping in a jail cell.

“M’kay, I’m done,” you announce, slapping the underside of the car as a sign of accomplishment. You purposefully slide out from under the car in one swift motion, allowing Natasha’s hand to graze over your muscled thigh.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight that greeted you when you looked up, though.

There Natasha Romanoff leant over your body, one hand inches away from the bulge in your pants, the other tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. She was leaning forward, exposing a cleavage that hung right above your torso, dark eyes surveying you.

Fuck, dark couldn’t even begin to describe it. Natasha’s gaze was like an icy blast and molten lava all at the same time: Her pupils were severely dilated, a spark dancing within it. The deep colours of her eyes were like a kaleidoscope, pulling you in, entrapping you in a haze of lust. 

It was entirely wanton, arousing, filthy. Her ruby-red lips curved into a vulture-like smirk, gaze trailing downwards to your body. Everywhere her eyes rested on lit a path of hellfire. Those sinful hands crept on to your bulge, splaying over your false cock as you exhale shakily.

Number Four: Natasha Romanoff was looking at you like you were a full banquet service, all five courses, free of charge, complimentary champagne included. 

And honestly, was there really anything more important than that?

“Thanks for your help,” Natasha murmmurs, physically climbing onto you as you laid on the under-car roller. “Let me repay that kindness.”

You let out a strangled groan as Natasha pushes herself down onto you and kisses you, her hands sliding under your shirt to scrape at your abdomen. 

Oh, finally.

“Fuck,” you gasp against her eager lips, hands flying to palm at her ass as you deepen the kiss. Your brain hasn’t quite caught up to yet, the only you were registering being the sweet mouth you were exploring and the intoxicating flowery scent of Natasha’s perfume.

Your hand cinches around Natasha’s neck like a vice-grip, your tongue invading the confines of her mouth, the rocking motions of your meeting mouths drawing long gasps and whines from Natasha.

Her hands, on the contrary, are relentless: From the sides of your face to your washboard abdomen, sharp nails marking you as if you’re hers. 

Having relinquished your power for long enough, you grab handfuls of Natasha’s ass and lift her up; You get up, too, a mess of entangled limbs as you throw her over your shoulder, kicking away the roller and moving to the bed of your pickup truck.

Natasha’s left dripping at your display of effortless strength. You hoist the two of you up onto the pickup truck, paradoxically carefully laying her down, and you stall for a moment.

“We’re so gonna get caught,” Natasha whispers with a stupid grin on her face.

She looks up at you with a breathtaking smile, twilight reflecting off her eyes, dancing in the atmosphere that surrounded the two of you. 

The pair of you were completely exposed to the midnight air, in the middle of nowhere, but if anyone were to drive past it would be blatantly obvious what was happening.

You smirk, tugging her dress off with an assured confidence. “Maybe,” you reason, thumbing at one of Natasha’s nipples so she arches off the surface with a breathy gasp. “Or maybe not,” you continue, a big hand sliding under Natasha’s lithe body to undo the clasp of her bra and toss it somewhere.

“Y/N!” Natasha squeaks, as your greedy hands massage the mounds of her breasts. “Did you throw my bra onto the road?”

You hum your approval cheekily, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses from the swell of her breasts and down to her soiled. “Yes, angel. I’ll pick it up later, bring it home with me to jerk off–”

“Oh my god—”

“Yeah, and I’ll— oh fuck, angel, your panties are fucking soaked. Not so innocent, hm?” You question with a dark smile, two fingers running over the outside of her undergarment, arousal sticking to your fingers.

You watch as the older woman before you flushes from head to toe. Strings of slick cling to your thick fingers, and you suck on them as Natasha moans lewdly. 

“I’ll let you taste it later, don’t worry,” you add helpfully, shucking down your own pants and boxers. The strap-on springs out, and Natasha’s drooly lips open to push out a shaky breath of arousal.

“Daddy,” Natasha says, instinctually, at the sight of your gloried muscles and the ivory strap that hung between your legs like it was made to do so.

Your grip on Natasha’s hips bruise, the term nothing new to you but so entirely different when it came from Natasha fucking Romanoff. The sense of pride that washed over you was nothing compared to the carnal desire to fill her up and make her scream your name.

“Oh God!” Natasha wails out, fingernails digging into your forearms as you slide the head of your cock inside her. It wasn’t the longest, but it was girthy, and Natasha’s hole was stretched out as you pushed slowly.

“Not God,” you pant into Natasha’s ear, slapping her ass as she cries out loud. “Daddy, hm?”

“Yes!” Natasha moans, legs wrapping around your huge muscled back as you begin to thrust. Her hands try to interlock behind your back for support, but your shoulderblades are so wide that she can’t even fully wrap her hands around it, and that fact leaves her even hornier than before.

You’ve got Natahsa pinned to the ground under your body, pounding so hard that the whole truck shakes. The grease from your clothes goes all over, slick and sweat coating the two of you, pleasured cries and low grunts emanating from the pickup truck.

The squelching sounds of her pussy are absolutely filthy, as you pound into her spongy spot like your life depended on it. 

“There, please!” Natasha wails, helplessly clinging on to your back as you bring her to a ferocious orgasm. Her legs kick under you, hook around the side of the truck as you jackhammer your hips into her pussy.

“Almost there already, angel?” You ask heatedly, mouth working on marking up her tits. One of your hands had both of Natasha’s wrist above her head, and the other was on her hips for support as you thrusted into her.

Your response comes in an earth-shattering orgasm.

“Daddy!” Natasha moans out, filthy and drenched with desire. Her pleasured cry is so loud that it scares a flock of birds out of a nearby tree, and you flinch violently at the sudden sound of nature’s rustling leaves, like you forgot you were in public.

Natasha breaks out into a laugh at the absurdity of the situation, then moans again when another wave of orgasmic pleasure washes over her. That causes you to join in on the laughter, your cock jostling inside Natasha. She whines again, and you pepper kisses over Natasha’s sweaty forehead with nothing short of amused affection.

And that’s how the two of you end up entangled on the back of your pickup truck like lovesick fools, a mesh of sweaty and slick bodies, sounds of pleasure and laughter scaring away any other creature that might disrupt Natasha’s sought-after comfort and satisfaction.

requests are NOT open... i just received this request all the way back in february, and so here it is haha..... im sorry to that one anon 😭 reblog to save a life xx

kinktober masterlist || main masterlist

[malachite-iiarie]

Quotes from my DnD Games

I’m going to drop your market value

Step matey

Ohh, I’m doing a puppy…?

How dry is he…You are no longer dry

Your tits will wither of brain power

Why do I exist, probably because two lizards decided to bone

Playfully asswipe

I DONT WANT YOU GUYS MAKING CRAYON JOKES

She doesn’t have pockets Mal, she has depression

I’m open for a new daddy that means

Question-Do I still work?

Hey, it’s not that bad *BOOM*

Explosioning

I put the ass in grass

Are you wearing clothes this time?

I’m just a T-Rex trying to make a living out here

WHERES THE WEED BOOK

Pistol in ass

When I’m done with your soul, I’m gonna shit it out like 2 week old sushi

Clowns may feel fear, but they don’t show it

When are you gonna tell him about the… you know… ukulele situation

Lesbians are different, they don’t need sauce on their sandwiches

[shes2real]

Ice Cream ♡

Featuring 🌷: roman reigns + female!reader

Warning ☁️: unprotected p in v, dirty talk, car sex, semi-public sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, creampie, mentions of cunnilingus, 18+ Minors, please don’t interact. Thanks! ୨୧

Word count 🌷: 1k

Scenario ☁️: Based on this lovely request! You get a little hot & bothered over Roman eating ice cream.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

“Boy, if you don’t stop licking that ice cream like that.” You snapped, looking over at Roman with your nose turned up as he licked the ice cream vigorously.

Roman shot you a mischievous grin, before sucking on the ice cream swirl, “You getting wet or sum?” He teased.

Despite the banter, you and Roman shared a deep bond forged over years of friendship. Though there was undeniable chemistry between you, both of you had agreed to keep things platonic out of respect for your careers.

Rolling your eyes, you reached for your own spoon and took a bite of your ice cream. "Never that, boo." you retorted, trying to brush off the teasing.

The comfortable silence between you two seemed to lull you into a contemplative state. You found yourself fixating on the way he devoured that ice cream, the memory replaying in your mind. It felt like you had an angel and a demon on your shoulder, their conflicting whispers echoing in your mind. 'Let him eat you up, bitch!' one voice urged, while the other cautioned you. As you watched the trees and passerby vehicles, you were lost in thought and involuntarily squeezing your legs tightly.

Roman glanced over at you, effortlessly multitasking with one hand on the steering wheel and the other holding his ice cream cone. "You good?" he asked, noticing your distant demeanor.

You nodded, avoiding conversation. Finishing your ice cream, you disposed of the cup and spoon in the cup holder, turning your body away from Roman. He picked up on your subtle shifts and squirms in the seat.

“I know,” His teasing tone caused a shiver to run down your spine as he spoke up, claiming to know what was bothering you.

Turning your head quickly, you crossed your arms, awaiting his response. "I bet you're getting my seats all wet, aren't you?" he chuckled, nonchalantly wiping his hands on his pants.

You scoffed at him before turning your gaze back out the window. At a four-way stop, he reached out, his hand grazing your thigh, dangerously close to the hem of your mini skirt.

"Take this off," he commanded in a dominant tone, catching you off guard. Stuttering, you tried to comprehend his request.

"Y-you want—"

"Don't make me repeat myself," he interjected firmly before focusing back on the road, a gesture you appreciated. Removing your mini skirt, you felt a rush of pressure, instinctively wanting to cover up. His approving remark, however, stopped you in your tracks.

"Ah... good girl," he praised, his tone laced with dominance.

Sliding your feet out of the mini skirt, you were left only in your pink lace panties. You assumed that he’d want you to remove those too so you did, only for him to snatch them, tucking them away in his pocket.

“Open them legs up,”

You opened your legs, putting yourself in the butterfly pose. He placed his long fingers inside of you, fucking you. The sound of his fingers going in and out of you became audible, "That feels good, doesn't it?" Roman asked.

Your slick coating his fingers as you guided him to your clit, keeping the movement nice and slow.

You let out a soft moan, “Roman…” as your body lightly shook.

It was so attractive how he was still able to drive while his fingers were playing with your wetness. A sudden moan escaped your lips as his fingers grazed a particularly sensitive spot.

“Oh! My-my..spot!”

With a loud whine, your back arched as you came. He watched as the pleasure radiated through you before slowly removing his fingers. As your body lightly shook in the aftermath, he pulled into a parking garage before he leaned the driver’s seat back.

After a moment, Roman stroked himself as he looked at you. “Come sit on it.” You glance around, making sure no one else is around.

“Don’t worry bout that, babygirl,” He chuckled.

Crossing over, you lower yourself onto his member. You clench tightly around him instantly, swallowing him whole. You never really saw Roman to be the moaning type but his loud moan caused you to grow wetter.

His hand moved from your hip to your ass, slapping it as you began to bounce on it. “Shit!” You cursed, bouncing rhythmically on his dick. Roman’s deep moans were becoming increasingly louder as you rode him. After a while, the burn in your thighs slowed you down.

A breathy chuckle left his lips as he started thrusting up into you. His relentless thrusts were constantly pushing against your sensitive button, “Oh fuck! Right there!” You gasped as he was hitting your spot over and over.

Roman groaned as your nails dug into him. You moaned loudly as your climax washed over you, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as he thrusted slowly and deeply before he came. He tapped you softly, “C’mon baby. Gon’ to the backseat,”

You slowly crawled to the backseat as he opened the door and went to the back of the car. You laid back as Roman quickly shut the door and grabbed your ankle, tugging you towards him.

He rubbed his fingers across your slit, causing your sensitive body to jolt.

“It’s okay babygirl,” He said, admiring the mixture of his cum and yours oozing out of you.

Towering over you, you wrapped your arms around his neck, as he pushed his dick inside of you.

“Oh shit,” you choke, as his hips snap frantically up into your own, you could feel the car rocking as you felt your second orgasm quickly approaching.

“Yes, Ro..Roman don’t stop, I’m so close,” you whimper as he moans in your ear. “Cum on this dick,” he groaned, thrusting again. You clamp a hand over your mouth as your back arched, your body trembling as your second release courses through you.

“Fuck!” He moans as you clench around him. As his seed fills you up, both of you let out satisfied groans. He pulls out of you and stares at you for a moment.

“Lemme show you how I eat pussy,” He said, sensually as his eyes darkened.

You were in for a long ride.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂

Thanks for reading babe ☁️🌷

・❥ ・ @kumapassion @romanreignsbae @pittieprincess22 @cyberdejos2 @xoxoril3yyy @rwbypatootie @solefae @adoreesun @alyyaanna @shantinextdoor @zombiedixon89 @acknowledge-reigns @glitterywitchstarlight @brienivl @theasiaabattoir @girlnred

[nayziiz]

Disturbed | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader (she/her)

Author's note: I'm trying something a little bit different with shorter form fics, so please send through any requests or feedback. These one shots will likely not have a second part unless it really speaks to me to continue with it. Thank you!

Masterlist

In the high-stakes world of motorsports, where the roar of engines drowned out all other sounds and the smell of burning rubber hung heavy in the air, Oscar stood as a beacon of unwavering determination. His name was synonymous with calm and resilience, his reputation forged on the anvil of countless hard-fought battles on-track and defying odds by helping keep his team in the running for third in the Constructors Championship. From the moment he first strapped himself into the driver's seat, Oscar had possessed an indomitable spirit that seemed impervious to the twists and turns of the race track.

Race after race, he pushed himself and his car to the very limit in pursuit of glory. Whether navigating treacherous hairpin turns or duelling wheel-to-wheel with his rivals, Oscar never backed down from a challenge. His resolve was unyielding, a relentless force that propelled him forward, even in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles.

But for all his unwavering determination, there were moments when he faltered too. It was on one particularly gruelling race day that the cracks in his armour began to show. Everything seemed to conspire against him – mechanical issues, strategic missteps, and a relentless onslaught of bad luck. Each setback chipped away at his confidence, threatening to unravel the very fabric of his resolve.

As the race wore on and Oscar's fortunes continued to decline, a sense of despair settled over him like a suffocating blanket. Doubt crept into his mind, gnawing away at his confidence and sowing seeds of uncertainty. For the first time in his career, he found himself teetering on the brink of defeat, his once unshakable resolve shaken to its core.

Amidst the chaos of the pit lane and the cacophony of roaring engines, there was one constant that anchored Oscar's fraying sanity – her. She was the quiet strength in his corner, the steady presence that never wavered, no matter how tumultuous the storm. Her belief in him was unwavering, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of doubt.

With each passing lap, she mumbled quiet prayers in the garage. She was his rock, his anchor in the storm, her unwavering support a lifeline in his darkest hour. And though he struggled to find solace in the midst of defeat, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would never truly be alone.

As the chequered flag finally fell and the race came to an end, Oscar found himself staring down the bitter taste of defeat. But in the arms of the one who had stood by him through it all, he discovered a glimmer of hope amidst the wreckage of his shattered dreams.

“Oscar, listen to me,” she said, her voice cutting through the chaos of the post-race pit lane like a beacon of clarity. “I know things didn’t go as planned, but you've got this. You've faced tougher challenges before, and you've always come out on top. This is just another step to reaching the top.”

He glanced over at her, his eyes searching for reassurance in the midst of his turmoil.

“But what if this time is different? What if I've finally met my match?” he asked, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

She reached out and gently took his hand, her touch a comforting presence in the midst of his turmoil.

“You're Oscar Piastri,” she said, her voice unwavering. “You're one of the most talented drivers out there, and nothing – not even a bad race – can change that. You have the skill, the determination, and the heart to overcome anything that comes your way.”

In the aftermath of defeat, Oscar realised that his strength did not lie solely in his ability to conquer adversity, but in his capacity to accept defeat with grace and humility. And though the road ahead may be fraught with challenges, he knew that as long as she stood by his side, he would always find the courage to carry on. For in her unwavering support, he found the resilience to rise from the ashes of defeat and chase his dreams once more.

[azzibuckets]

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 4/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: paige and azzi take the next step in their fake relationship

a/n: this one’s pretty long, hopefully it’ll tide y’all over for a bit 💋

word count: 2.6k

masterlist w/ all parts

“I don’t know, I guess we just kinda grew on each other.”

Paige and Azzi stood weakly under the scrunity of their entire team, hands interlocked. Paige hoped the younger girl couldn’t feel the sweat in the palm of her hand. Lying to Geno was no issue, but to her best friends that knew her almost as well as she knew herself? Damn near impossible.

After aggressively interrogating the new “couple” with question after question, the team finally seem somewhat satisfied by their answers and stopped the barrage, leaving Paige and Azzi alone in the locker room.

“Holy hell,” Azzi breathed out a sigh of relief as soon as the last of their teammates left the room. “Good thing we went over our story like a hundred times. That was rough.”

Paige raised an eyebrow. “It wouldn’t hurt you to practice lying a bit,” she remarked, wiping the sweat off her brow with a Gatorade towel.

Azzi bit the inside of her cheek. She hated when Paige made infuriating offhand comments like that, making her feel so inferior without even trying. “I’m sorry I’m just not naturally good at deceiving others,” she snapped.

The other girl stared at her before turning around to rummage through her locker. “I’m carrying most of the weight of this whole act, and you know it.”

The tension between the two of them returned, and they both changed in silence. Azzi mentally kicked herself. They were supposed to be on the same team now. No one on the team would keep on believing their act if her and Paige were always picking fights with each other. She might as well attempt to become friends with Paige, or as close to friends as she could get, so that their plan wouldn’t get ruined.

“Look,” Azzi sighed, breaking the silence, “we should probably like go somewhere and do something together.” Seeing the confused look on Paige’s face, she rushed to forge towards. “Not like a date, you know, but no one’s gonna believe we’re dating if we’re being nasty to each other. We should probably get to know each other and stuff.”

Paige nodded. It seemed like she was understanding Azzi’s idea until she said, “so you wanna get all up on me?”

“Oh my god, Paige-”

Paige’s eyes twinkled in amusement, having gotten the reaction that she wanted. “I’m messing with you. Yeah, that sounds fine.” She checked her watch. “Actually, you free right now?”

Azzi looked at her in surprise. “Why? You wanna go now?”

Paige threw her shoes in her backpack and zipped it up. “The sooner the better, am I right? Your car or mine?”

“I’ll drive,” Azzi offered. She figured she might as well take as much control over the situation as she could. It would be a lot easier for her nerves to quiet down if she had the wheel in her hands, literally and figuratively.

————————

Azzi rolled down her window, trying not to steal too many glances at Paige. They were painfully silent - the only sound in the car was some terrible country music filtering in from the radio. Azzi had initially connected her AUX, but decided that she didn’t want Paige to judge her music taste.

After a few minutes, Paige had had enough. “Bro, can we turn this shit off or play something else?” she begged, her tone dripping with annoyance.

“A please would be nice,” Azzi griped, resisting the urge to turn the volume up louder just to irritate Paige even further.

Paige folded her arms, hitting her head against her seat with an exaggerated thump. “Who even listens to the radio anymore?” she muttered under her breath. “It’s like I’m in a car with my grandma.”

“I’m not putting my playlists on just so you can shit on that too,” Azzi responded dryly.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Paige muttered. Then in a louder voice, “Can I play my music then?”

“We’re almost there. You can’t sit for another two minutes?”

Paige huffed. “Where are you even taking me?” She made a show of looking around their surroundings at the streets.

“Relax, it’s a good spot. They have good tacos.” Azzi smiled at the thought of biting into one of those mouth watering, juicy, shrimp tacos with the lime salsa she loved so much. Even if Paige was being an ass, at least she’d get to eat well.

When they reached the location, Paige was pleasantly surprised. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but it definitely hadn’t been this. They were at an outlook on a hill, a little green park with some old town restaurants and stores nestled in the corner. The hill overlooked the city below, the entire atmosphere bathed in a soft pink light from the setting sun.

“Damn,” Paige whistled, taking it all in. “You did good for our first date.”

Azzi’s cheeks flushed a light pink and she look away, tucking in one of her braids behind her ear. “This isn’t a date.”

Paige bit her lip. She loved when she got Azzi all flustered. Not because she thought it was cute, Paige reminded herself. She just liked to annoy her. “Oh really? I was gonna pay for your food, but I guess not,” Paige joked, dodging when Azzi tried to hit her.

Paige didn’t really know how the two of them so easily switched between frosty exchanges like the one on the car and then light-hearted moments like these. You guys were fickle.

“Okay, so what’s the plan?” Both of you had gotten your tacos, and were sitting at one of the picnic tables scattered next to the Mexican joint.

“I mean, we already got our story done.” Azzi carefully drizzled her tacos with salsa. “I think it’s the chemistry part of all it. We have to really sell that we’re dating through our behavior.”

Paige nodded in agreement. “Yeah. But we should probably set up some boundaries first.”

Azzi’s heartbeat quickened at that. She would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of the extent your fake relationship would go to. She’d already accepted hugging and hand holding and other basic forms of PDA - they wouldn’t be able to sell their act without it. But she shivered at the idea of there ever being a situation where you guys would have to kiss.

“I’m a pretty touchy person,” Paige admitted. “The whole team knows that. So you’re gonna have to deal with a lot of contact, or else they’ll know something’s up.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Azzi muttered. Paige looked up at her, studying her with a small smile on her face.

When she kept on smiling, the dark haired girl shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

Paige was full on grinning now, as if Azzi had just the funniest joke ever. “Come here,” she motioned her head to the spot next to her on the bench.

“Go there?” Azzi rumpled her eyebrow quizzically. “My seat right now is perfectly fine, thanks.”

“Don’t be annoying.” Paige said. “Just come here.” Knowing how stubborn she was and that she likely wouldn’t stop bothering her until Azzi agreed, she gave up, pushing her food to the other side of the table and walking around to join Paige.

Easeinf her way onto the seat, she made sure to leave a gap between them. “Now what?”

Paige’s eyes flicked to the gap inbetween them and she rolled her eyes. “Why are you so far? Come here.” She reached out and wrapped her arm around Azzi’s waist, easily moving her so that the entire sides of their bodies were now flush against each other.

Azzi felt slightly lightheaded, but she blamed the feeling on the fact that she wasn’t a very touchy person in general and wasn’t used to this much contact with anyone in general. “Are you gonna tell me why I’m basically on you?”

“If you wanna sit on my lap, just say so,” Paige teased. When she was met with nothing but raised eyebrows, she said, “We gotta practice the public displays of affection and stuff. It needs to be able to come out of us naturally. We can’t be just be awkwardly holding hands, you know?”

Paige was smarter than Azzi gave her credit for, but she still didn’t like this feeling she was getting, all riled up with her heartbeat quickening from touching Paige. They were so close that Azzi could smell the perfume that the blonde must have sprayed on her neck, all sweet and fragrant.

They ate like that, without a single inch of space between them. It wasn’t as awkward as Azzi had thought it would be. It almost seemed natural, the way their bodies were so intimately pressed together. It was nice, Azzi thought, the warmth of someone next to you. She could understand why some people’s love languages were physical touch.

“Hey, are you Azzi Fudd?” Two giggly girls had approached their table. The one who had spoken had wide eyes and a breathy laugh.

“I am,” Azzi gave them a small smile. She agreed happily when they asked for photos and a signature; she loved UConn fans, and it was nice being recognized out in public every once a while. It made the sweat and tears that she’d dedicated to her sport worth something.

The girls were excitable though, and every time Azzi tried to end the conversation, they brought up another thing. Azzi could feel Paige fidgeting behind her, itching to get away from the curious but increasingly nosy questions of the girls. She tapped her foot against the pavement and sighed loudly. But Azzi ignored her, enjoying Paige’s growing exasperation.

But finally the girls seemed to take a hint, thanking Azzi profusely as they left. She looked over at Paige, who had already started throwing away her food and heading back to the car.

Furrowing her brow, she started to jog after the blonde. “Thanks for waiting,” she joked sarcastically once she caught up. Paige pursed her lips and continued walking, this time at a faster pace. “Are you trying to run away from me? Have you forgotten we’re heading to the same place?” Azzi puffed out, trying to keep up.

“You know, people don’t usually spend half of a date talking to someone who isn’t their date,” Paige responded, the harshness in her tone catching Azzi off guard.

Then realization dawned on her. Paige Bueckers was jealous. It surprised her somewhat - everyone knew Paige enjoyed being the center of attention. She just didn’t know that Paige could be jealous when it came to her attention. And she didn’t necessarily hate it.

“Hold up, Bueckers.” Azzi’s lips quirked up. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”

Paige snorted. “You wish. It’s just that the whole point of coming here was to work out any holes in our plan, yet we didn’t discuss it at all.” She sped up even faster, and Azzi grabbed her elbow, forcing her to spin around to face her.

“Are you mad?” Azzi asked, amusement still lingering in her eyes. When Paige didn’t respond, she stepped closer, brushing a blonde strand behind her ear. “Did you wanna practice, Paige?” She said, voice a whisper now. Deciding to have a little fun, Azzi let her gaze drop down to Paige’s lips before looking up at her through her lashes.

Paige visibly swallowed, and Azzi relished in the effect she was having on the girl. She was used to making Paige mad, making her voice rise and cheeks flush in frustration, but she could get used to this - making Paige nervous, making her heart race.

“Practice what?” Paige rasped out. Her eyes were focused on Azzi’s lips, so Azzi wet her bottom lip, letting her tongue slowly run over.

“You know,” Azzi purred, now bringing her hand up to run her fingers up Paige’s bicep. She danced her fingertips Paige’s skin, not letting it stay in one place for too long.

Paige exhaled, moving to bring Azzi closer to her before Azzi burst out with a laugh. “Oh my god,” she cackled. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

Paige stepped back, her jaw clenched. If Azzi didn’t know better, she would think that Paige looked hurt, with her eyebrows dipped down and expression rigid, but she brushed it off. There was no way Paige cared enough about kissing her to actually be disappointed.

“I guess my flirting skills are getting pretty good, eh?” Azzi teased, but the other girl didn’t even look at her. This continued the entire way home, Paige staying silent while staring out the window, their dynamic now back to its fluctuating state.

“Are you mad or something?” Azzi asked once she had parked outside of Paige’s apartment. Paige ignored her, trying to open the door. Azzi smirked as she saw Paige struggle with the handle before realizing that she’d turned child lock on.

Giving up, the taller girl crossed her arms. “No.”

“Then why are you being all moody? Is this cuz I was flirting with you?”

Paige sucked in a breath, her cheeks hollowed. “What do you want me to say?” It was a genuine question, because even Paige wasn’t sure of why she was feeling like this. Her entire body had thrummed when Azzi had looked at her lips, and for some unknown reason she’d wanted to bring Azzi closer, to see what she tasted like. It was completely and wholly alien. Up until now the only thing she’d wanted to do to Azzi was bounce a basketball off the side of her head. And now Azzi’s pretty pink mouth was stuck in her head, had been burning in her mind the entire ride back.

Azzi shrugged, and that’s when Paige decided to take back the wheel. “You were right, actually. We should practice kissing,” she announced, feeling satisfied once Azzi’s eyes widened.

“Why?” Azzi stuttered.

Paige leaned over the console, a fiery look in her eyes. “You were all confident back at the park. What happened?” She challenged.

Azzi swallowed her nervousness. Cocking her chin, she said “I’m just scared you might pass out. You were a little bit too disappointed back there when I pushed you away.”

The girls’ eyes locked in a staring contest, both of them refusing to back down.

Until Paige opened her mouth, and blurted out, “I’m going to kiss you.” Azzi stared at the older girl, shocked by the abrupt bluntness of her statement. They both continued to look at each other, and when Azzi didn’t say anything, Paige leaned in, pressing her lips to hers.

Instinctively, Azzi brought her hand up to Paige’s cheek, and Paige tilted her head slightly, leaning into her warm touch. Paige’s lips parted, and Azzi took that opportunity to brush her tongue against hers.

It was like everything was moving in slow motion. Paige couldn’t even believe that she was kissing Azzi, the girl she’d gotten into more arguments with than she’d ever had with all of her teammates combined. Azzi, who always made her head spin and blood pressure rise. Azzi, who was annoyingly good at basketball, who knew how to get under her skin and press her sensitive spots. Except now she wanted Azzi to press different sensitive spots.

Paige was gentle and her lips so much softer than Azzi had expected. As they kissed, she let her fingers slip into Paige’s hair, feeling its soft silkiness. Her nails scraped Paige’s scalp, eliciting a soft groan from the blonde’s lips.

After what seemed like forever, they broke apart, panting and staring at each other in disbelief. Azzi licked her lips, now swollen, studying Paige, whose pupils were dilated and hair slightly mussed up from Azzi’s hands. Paige’s eyes, so pretty and blue, fluttered closed for a second before she reached for the handle of the car. “It’s getting late,” she swallowed. “I should probably go.”

Without a word, Azzi unlocked the car, watching as Paige hurriedly gathered her things and left. She walked briskly away with her head down, not looking back once. Once she’d disappears into the building of her apertment, Azzi groaned, letting her forehead rest against the wheel. What the fuck had they just done?

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[rueizu]

The details display of XT192

[abibliophobiaa]

Luna my love, may I ask for Steve and Trembling 💕

18+ oral; f! receiving (2K Words).

This part had happened before. The slow, languid kisses. Lips, tongues and teeth, ebbing and flowing like waves on the shore. A new couple learning what their partner enjoyed. Learning what sounds meant they liked what the other was doing, what sounds meant to change things up, quicken the tempo, slow down.

Steve’s fingers roamed your sides. The flimsy material of your summer dress pushed up and off ages ago now. Each caress like a gentle breeze spilling in through those gently parted windows of your apartment bedroom. Tucked away from the world, away from peering gazes, away from everyone else. In here, there was only this. Only you two, tangled together as close as two might be.

New as your relationship was, you’d only ventured one another like this. Hands over and under clothes. Fingers curled inside into that place no one has ever reached before, and yours curled around him, dragging praises and curses out of the man. But you hadn’t wandered further.

At least, not until tonight. Not until drive-in movies. Cola tinged tongues twining over a packet of Twizzlers. Where sinfully sweet kisses turned into wandering hands and breathy gasps, before a flashlight had illuminated the back of the BMW and you both were nearly kicked out by an attendant when you’d both maybe gotten a little too carried away.

You’d pulled out of the grassy lot laughing. Cheeks burning from how hard you smiled—how hard you always smiled with him. The boy with his beautiful features, huge heart, and arms that felt more and more like home after every date.

Normally you’d find it alarming how quickly you liked the boy, but Steve Harrington was different. Sunshine in his soul and kindness personified. Sure, he had his frustrated streak when it came to the gaggle of teens who’d jokingly referred to him as ‘Mom’ the first time you’d met them all, but it was bolstered by a love that ran so deeply for them you knew it had been forged in fire.

Which was how you found yourself in your present situation now. Bellies full after rushing to the diner post drive-in movie escape, plate of cheesy fries shared between you, and cheesier smiles on both your faces. In the car you’d felt free and bold, had dragged your fingers along his cock. Squeezed. Watched his knuckles whiten around the steering wheel, watched his slow inhales and exhales, relished in the way he choked your name and kicked the car up into a faster speed. And then he’d been on you from the moment you slipped into your apartment, key jimmying the lock shut, your back flush against the door and his mouth igniting you and setting you ablaze like a live wire.

Your mouth now rounded in a sigh, his fingers curled around your back, toying with the band of your bra. His shirt on the floor, your dress beside his, the lacy underwear you wore pressed against the heft of his thigh deliciously in a way that made you crave more, his cock resting hard and heavy somewhere against your hip. Dizzying. Maddeningly so, hot and syrupy, in the way he kissed you. Presses of pressure and peals of pleasure.

“Can I?” His words were a rasp.

Another kiss is pressed to the space between your breasts. Feather soft, sickly sweet. Your nodded consent has him unhooking the back, your bra tossed into the growing heap on the floor, arm coming to rest over your naked chest.

“Hey, hey,” he cooed, rubbing a gentle circle into the inside of your wrist draped over yourself. Kissed your forehead where it wrinkled, as if he’d sensed the nervousness welling in your belly. “You’re so beautiful. You know that, right?”

You’d heard those words before. From other partners, sure. But with Steve, you truly believed them. Tucked his words of affection away into the depths of your heart, little secrets meant only for you two. The man who’d stepped into your life on a whim, after Eddie Munson had introduced you two after a concert for Corroded Coffin. Figured you’d be a match made in heaven. And he’d been right, a truth you can see now staring back at you, reflected in those hazel eyes boring into your soul.

“Thank you, Steve,” you said back, letting your hand fall away, letting your head fall back into the plush pillows beneath as he whispered praises into your skin, hot tongue licking across flesh, laving over your chest. Then lower, and lower still. Trailing across your sternum, kissing along the soft of your stomach. Nipping at your hips until you giggled, until you glanced down at him, his body half off the bed, brushing gentle kisses to the insides of your thighs, his intent dropping like lead into your stomach.

“Oh, you don’t…I mean…no one really—”

His head peered up from between your thighs, paused in his ministrations along your skin. You barely had a moment to speak before he was crawling up by your face again, one elbow pressed into the mattress beside your head, the over curled over your cheek, his nose nudging yours sweetly. “Has no one…?”

Hating the way your cheeks burned from embarrassment, you tucked your face into his collarbone, his bare chest flush against yours, one of his arms curled around your shoulders to keep you nestled close. As his fingers traced comforting lines into your skin, you finally replied, but it came out muffled against his skin.

His chest leaped with his laughter. “Baby, were those even words?”

“Maybe,” you mumbled, nuzzling his skin with your forehead. “But if you must know…no, no one has…done that. Don’t laugh. I feel like you’re judging me right now.”

He froze at that. Body stiffened beneath yours, leaning back just enough so you could catch the downturn of his lips. The way those hazel eyes darkened a bit, still hazy in his lust, but tinged with another emotion you couldn’t quite place a name to.

“Not judging you,” he promised, tipping your chin up to kiss your lips gently. “Just all the idiots who came before.”

“Oh,” you squeaked out, trying to hide again, but he cupped your cheeks in his palms.

“You are so beautiful. Every inch of you. Do you trust me?” he asked, forehead resting against yours.

“I do.”

He unraveled himself from your arms. Arms still bracketing your head as you finally laid back against the bed beneath him, his flush against yours, one thigh between yours. Heart racketing in your chest, you closed your eyes, smiling to yourself as the man leaned down and kissed you once more before making his way back down your body.

A kiss on your collar bone. The curve of your breast. A teasing lip against the skin there that had your sides jolting, his laughter lyrical in your ears. Another to your abdomen, the curve of your hip. Fingers pressing into the swell of your hips, adoring the flesh of your thighs as he parted them to make room for himself between them. Every nerve ending felt alive. The swift rise and fall of your chest apparent as he reached the hemline of your panties, finger rubbing a slow circle over your clothed clit that had you turning your head into your pillow to muffle your moan.

“Sweetheart,” he said, pulling you from your wayward thoughts. Your distracted thoughts, hyper aware of every inch of you about to be on display for the boy.

You lifted yourself up onto your elbows, grinning widely as he leaned up and claimed your mouth with his.

“I love—” another kiss, “every damn sound you make—” another kiss against the curve of your throat this time, making your head fuzzy, “it’s just us here, okay? No need to hold back with me, baby.”

It was enough to calm your nerves. Heart still hammering away, but the reminder of his words ruled out. Pushing the pillow away, you sighed as his careful fingers toyed with the little bow on the front of your underwear, head tipping up enough to watch the way he slowly, so slowly, pulled them down your thighs and dropped them onto the ground beside him.

Like this he could drop his knees down onto the floor and pull you against him, and he did, dragging one of your thighs over his shoulder in the process. Kissed the inside of an ankle and grinned as you shuddered bodily in his arms, before skimming up higher and higher, leaving scorching marks in his dangerous wake.

“Oh, honey,” he sighed, and to your ears it sounded like a plea—or a prayer. Thick fingers glided through your slick, dragging a familiar path from your center to your clit, watching your reactions. The curl of your toes, the way your heels dug into his shoulders, the pinch of your eyes flush against your cheeks. This, with him, you knew. “Wanna kiss you here. You’re so pretty. Can I?”

As soon as you nod, you finally understand why your friends had raved about this after one too many drinks during girl’s nights. The way Steve’s fingers are replaced by his tongue. Warm and wet, parting you for him. Curling over that part of you that has your back arching up off the mattress, fingers clenching in messy locks of hair on his head, cheeks heating when you realize you might have pulled a little too hard.

“Pull harder,” he reassured, as if he knew. And it’s enough to have you brave enough to do so, chest heaving, whimpering beneath him, hips writhing against the place where he worships between parted thighs.

Steve was always handsome. Had been that first night at the bar, draped over the table, arms on display. Wearing those too-tight jeans that always left little to the imagination and a shirt stretched over a broad chest and wide shoulders. But like this? One hand curled around your legs, his other joining his tongue and sliding two fingers into you, fingertips turning white against your flesh where he clutched at your skin to keep you spread for him, doing things you’d never dreamed of, plucking moans from you like one would play an instrument? Diabolical.

“Steve, I’m gonna—”

You’d never before. Not like this. This dizzying free fall. The sudden snap, and then the white flash behind your eyes as you cried his name into your bedroom. As he continued to pump his fingers into you through it, whispering words of adoration into your skin.

And then he was kissing you, arm curling around the back of your head, your taste lingering on the tongue that glided over your own. “Good?” he asked.

“Good?” You laughed against his shoulder, incredulous. “Pretty sure I’ve never come so hard in my life.”

“Is that so?” He smirked.

“Don’t get too big a head now,” you teased, your hips rocking up into his, drawing a groan out of his throat.

“Yeah?”

“Never been so sure.”

Before long, you’d shoved down his boxers and he flashed a bright smile as you rolled over him, still trembling thighs on either side of his hips, a little breathless but feeling brazen. A packet was pulled from a bedside drawer and Steve hurriedly readied himself, asking if you were ready. To which you nodded, kissing his lips, fingers twining through his against your bedspread.

Then finally, that kiss turning into a breathless gasp as you sank down onto him, heart full.

——

——