I Want Fernando Alonso To **** ** **** * **** *** *** ******* *** **** ****** ******

Hi can I get (for one muse to drive and finger the other who is in the passenger seat.) with either Sebastian Vettel or Jenson button please 🙏

Dbf!Sebastian Vettel x fem! Reader ft. Jenson Button

Yk i couldn’t decide who i wanted to write this with so i chose both, i hope you don’t mind:)

Warnings?; SMUT, fingering, reader is the daughter of a retired driver! But no names are specified, age gap!(reader is in her twenties), cursing, kissing, dirty talk, teasing, kinda public? Everything happens in a car.

You weren’t expecting to see Jenson in the passenger seat of Sebastian’s two seater Ferrari when it pulled up to the curb of the restaurant.

You had been on a date gone wrong when you called your father’s best friend for a ride, none of your friends had answered and with your parents being out of town he was the last person you could think of.

“Um, seb where am I supposed to sit?” You questioned and your confusion only grew when Jenson opened the passenger door but never got out.

You were met with a smirk from the German as he kept quiet, but Jenson gave you the answer you were looking for as he patted his lap and spoke up.

“Got a perfect seat right here love” the Brit smiled at you.

Butterflies filled your stomach as you thought about it, it wouldn’t be the first time you sat on his lap however last time you were in Sebastian’s living room while the man was between your thighs and Jenson held you open for him.

“Come on honey, we haven’t got all night” Sebastian’s spoke, bringing you out of your thoughts.

You blushed as you took your spot on top of Jenson, your little dress doing nothing to put a barrier between you and his denim covered thighs.

You were tense and Jenson didn’t like it, he could feel you holding back your weight and not relaxing completely into him.

“Calm down love, it’s just us” Jenson whispered into your ear as one of his large hands began to run along your bare thigh.

A smile took over the Blondes face as he felt your body sink into his, releasing a sigh of contentment as he felt your warm body against his.

“So what happened on your date?” Sebastian questioned, one of his hands coming to rest on the thigh closest to him; Jenson’s still on the other.

“Uh, nothing he just wasn’t my type” you breathed shakily as you watched Jenson’s hand slowly move under the skirt of your dress.

“Hm, why’d you go out with him then?”

“W-what do you mean?” You stuttered as Sebastian’s hand joined his friends.

“You said he wasn’t your type, if you knew that why’d you go in the first place darling?” Jenson questioned in your ear, voice deep and accent thick.

“Bec-oh, because he was, shi-He was cute” you whined as Jenson’s hand began to rub you through the lace of your panties.

“Yeah? Why’d you end it early?” Sebastian quipped as his own hand came into contact with your folds, thanks to Jenson removing your panties.

You couldn’t reply, the feeling of his thick fingers teasing your entrance taking all of your concentration.

But Jenson wasn’t having it, “I think he asked you a question bunny” he spoke with a sharp swat to your thigh.

Swallowing thickly you did your best to reply to the Man beside you.

“H-he recognized my last n-name, ah!” you whimpered, hand gripping onto Sebastian’s wrist as two of his fingers entered your core.

“Let me guess he turned out to be an f1 fan and only asked about your dad?.” Jenson spoke.

“Mhm” you sobbed as both their fingers began to work you open, Sebastian’s scissoring inside you while Jenson shamelessly rubbed your clit.

You attempted to buck your hips but they were quickly pushed down by Jenson’s free hand, yearning him a whimper of annoyance.

“Don’t be a brat now Liebling, after all we did cut our dinner short to come and get you” Sebastian tutted, taking his eyes off the hardly filled road for a moment to look over at your breathtaking frame.

The skirt of your dress was pushed up and the panties you once wore were now resting on the floor of his overly expensive car, your pretty sounds getting louder as their fingers didn’t let up.

“Can feel her clenching my fingers so tight, our girls getting close” Sebastian spoke aloud, talking about you like you weren’t even there.

“Please, I-need it, please I’ll be good” you begged them, the pleasure from both of them so overwhelming.

“Oh you poor thing” Jenson said with a faux pout, his free hand coming up to hold you jaw, turning you head to connect your lips in a dirty kiss.

It was filthy, teeth clashing and tongues fighting against each other, and by the time you had pulled away you realized Sebastian was pulling into his private driveway.

And while you had expected them to let up they didn’t, in fact Sebastian sped up his movements as he felt you clenching hard around his fingers.

The sound of squelching from your cunt filled the small car. Sebastian’s fingers coming into contact with the sensitive spot inside you as his fingers continued to fuck you rigorously.

“Seb!-ngh, feels so good” you babbled, head thrown back against Jason’s shoulder as his fingers that had been abusing your clit applied more pressure to the small bud.

“Look so beautiful like this bunny, all spread open for us.” Sebastian cooed.

“Don’t stop please! I need it” you begged both men, your pathetic pleads going right into Jensons ear.

“Oh you need it huh? I’m not sure honey. Already had to leave our dinner because you got bored with some jerk, why should we give you anything else?” Jenson tutted behind you.

“No, no, please-Jenson please let me come, I’m sorry for interrupting your dinner” You sobbed as the heat in your lower stomach got stronger and stronger.

“Hmm, I guess we’ll accept your apology. Go on and come for us pretty girl.” Sebastian encouraged.

Their fingers worked together to get you over the edge, mouth dropping open in a silent scream as your body shook.

Your thighs quivered as you soaked Sebastian’s fingers in your release, both men’s eyes gleaming with pride as they watched you come down from your high.

Jenson had slightly repositioned you so you could now face Sebastian, just in time to watch him slip his covered fingers into his mouth; moaning at the taste of you.

A gasp came from you as Jenson ran his fingers through your folds so he could get his own taste of your release.

“Taste so good darling” he smiled down at you.

“Wanna taste?” Sebastian asked.

With a small nod you leaned forward expecting him to slip his fingers into your mouth, however one of his large hands wrapped around your throat and pulled your lips to his.

You moaned into his mouth at the taste of yourself, his tongue running along yours as your lips moved together.

“I think it’s time we take you inside and fuck you properly, what’d you think?”

-

! Merry (late) Christmas !

Your secret santa XoXo - Kimi Raikonnen x Reader

summary: Y/n is Kimi's favorite santa.

warnings: age gap, romance, too cute🫶, Not retired Kimi!! rawdogging(not proofread)

author's 🗒️'s: i haven't had much time for writing so i did a bit of a cutesy christmas fic for the part 2 hope its good w u guyss <33 enjoy loves!!

( Seb nd Kimi arent retired, reader is at AM with Lance!!)

part 1, part 2, ...

______

It's Christmas. Secret santa with the grid and snow. Well not snow because all of us are still in Abu Dhabi. Knowing glances exchanged after the secret santa pulling. If i remember correctly i was pulled by i think Lance. Im not sure if it really was Lance, but the canadian is a pleasure to know and is just perfect at gifts.

I pulled Kimi, the legend, and my best friend. Maybe my best friend. Knowing how he and Seb are. Obviously it's not only platonic feelings with the way he acts around me.

Thinking about presents for Kimi is rather hard, seeing he doesn't really have a thing he likes but doesn't have. I'd say alcohol but do i wanna heed into his alcoholism? A bit, but only if it means i get a gift for him.

-

The tea in front of me was cold, but the weather kept me warm. Sebastian sat opposite of me, asking for advice on what he should get for Oscar.

"What about i buy him, his gift and you buy Kimi's for me." I suggest a deal thinking of all the things i could give Oscar.

"Don't know what to buy your little boyfriend, eh Y/n?" Teasing smirk pulling on his mouth, the german dared me for an answer.

Eyes rolling into the depths of the back of my head, showing clear annoyance yet he still kept talking.

"Maybe you could finally confess to him, he's all over you whenever you're near him anyway" Sassy tone pulling out his german accent, the sentence making my jaw drop lower with every word. Catching my jaw, i shook my head. Trying to act unbothered, sipping from the lemon tea in my hand.

"Are you really this bored, that you're invested in your two best friend's love life ? Old man." I look away as i hear Kimi's voice in the distance. My head turned to see him talking to Mark Webber, possibly an interview with all those cameras around. The signature straight smile from Kimi appeared. Uncomfortable aura around him.

I nodded back to Seb only to see him already looking at me. 'What?' I silently asked him, only getting a knowing look back.

"Let's just buy those gifts before i regret even sitting here."

-

Giddy feeling in my stomach affecting my hold on the wrapped object. Looking at the usual secret santa interviewer making small talk, handing over the gift.

The wrapping contained a letter and an object Seb helped me pick. I feel kind of weird, specifically the fact that i don't know if he will like it is weird.

After half an hour, the interviewer approached me again, cameramen following close by. Small talk exchanged as she got ready for the video.

"Okay! One, two, and three, it's on!" A smiley voice came from her notifying me.

I was handed a gift box and the santa hat. Placing the hat on my head i examined the box, wrapped in pink wrapping paper which had hearts written all over it. All i gathered is that it must be one of my friends. I brought it up to my ears to shake and maybe smell.

The shaking part was unsuccessful since the box made nearly no noise, however the smell was gentle yet slightly familiar. Kimi's cologne. Versace eros eau de toilette. The one you recommended to him, because you liked it. Mint and lemon are dominant over the smell of paper.

"That's Kimi." I looked up knowingly, smiling a bit.

"Smells like him. Unless it's Seb and he's again interested in my business." Rolling my eyes, earning a snicker from the woman handling the microphone.

I start opening the paper gently, since i wanna save the heart on it. As soon as i take the top off, i see what i got. Caramel chocolate and snacks from my home country, paired with a bottle of jägermeister. Underneath these items there's a hoodie, unfolding it i see the embroidery on it.

'No. 7'

Holding it close to my nose, i smell it. Versace.

___

author's 🗒️'s: I kind of left it on a cliffhanger but im traveling 4 hours tomorrow im gonna do the end tomorrowww :PPPPP anyways cuties i hope my writing isnt a disaster im so sleepy rn its an actual nightmare...

taglist: @i-wish-this-was-me , @keii134 , @littlesatanicassholebitch <3

i am gonna Need your thoughts on senna. because all those pics of him in the speedo have me thinking boat sex and phew

ANON U REACHED DIRECTLY INTO MY BRAIN THANK U. @diorleclerc i think this anon has read our DMs :/// also, here's the full version of my profile pic, since it is Beautifully relevant to this ask 🥰 first ayrton ask of the blog!!

afab reader, mostly gn but one fem gendered term used in portuguese

while i would personally lean towards Pool Sex as a concept, boat sex is also vvvv good, this man was on boats a LOT?

you're trying to enjoy the hot brazilian summer weather, lounging out on the yacht in the harbour, maybe reading, or just sunbathing in your bikini

ayrton's in the sea, as usual. insane water baby moments for the aries fire sign.

you smile over at him as he climbs back onto the boat - until he starts flicking the cold water off his body onto you, shaking his head right above you to shower you in the water falling from his hair

and when you squeal out "ayrton--!" amidst laughter and try to move away from the water, he manhandles you up in his arms and flicks more water onto you

afterwards, you're practically sat in his lap, a shiver crossing your body both from the cold water and the way his large hands circle your waist as he smirks at you

"are you cold, gatinha?" he murmurs, his thumbs dipping below the elastic of your bikini bottoms, chuckling when you nod back at him, breathless. "let's warm you up, hm?"

your hands holding onto his biceps, steadying yourself as he presses two fingers shallowly into your pussy before dragging the wetness to your clit and rubbing small circles

one hand playing with your clit, making you drop your head to his freckled shoulder and whine his name

the other arm circling your waist and pulling you closer, to the point you can feel his hardening cock pressing against you

patronisingly coos at you as you whimper, pleading for more, your hips beginning to rock against his hand in a steady rhythm

your sounds grow in volume as you edge closer to your orgasm, and ayrton leans down to muffle them in a devouring kiss, his teeth pulling at your bottom lip

pulls away from your clit just as you're on the edge, and you whine a protest into his mouth

though it's immediately turned into a high-pitched moan at the back of your throat as he slides two fingers inside your wet cunt, curling them upwards and finger-fucking you to the orgasm you hoped for

you're brought back to earth by the sensation of being flipped onto your back, ayrton pulling your bikini bottoms off and hooking your legs around his waist with a grin

even after the first orgasm, the stretch as he pushes his cock into you is delicious, and you know you'll leave crescent-moon indents in his arms and shoulders where you're holding onto him

the pace he sets is immediately relentless, a bruising grip on your hips to match how your nails are digging into him

occasional words and half-phrases in portuguese, amidst his grunts and moans as his damp hair falls into his face

leans in as he nears his own orgasm, and you think he's going to kiss you - no, he's placing a bite to the crux of your neck, one that you know will flower into rich purples and reds

watches his cum drip out of you, all smug. he likes marking his territory.

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

how lucky we are to live in a world where tiramisu exists

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader

just luke discovering he might have a praise kink with you. lord have mercy.

warnings: praise kink, dom!luke, pet names, unprotected p in v (don’t), oral s3x (m receiving)

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

“Ah. Fuck, baby, do that again”

Luke let out another strangled moan when you gagged around his cock, your throat tightening. He couldn’t believe you would do anything he asked you to.

It happened every single time. You would literally say yes to anything, the only thing he was sure you were not gonna agree to, was to having sex with him.

Boy, was he wrong.

Now he had you on your knees in his cabin, gagging around him over and over again until he wanted to ask you to stop, but how could he? Everything about this was heavenly to him; your warm mouth, the tears in the corner of your eyes, your swollen lips, your nails digging into his thighs whenever you felt him too deep inside your mouth, his hand wrapping around your hair in a loose ponytail and push your head further into him.

But this wasn’t about him, as much as he wanted it to be. He had promised to fuck you earlier during a potent training session, a promise you would not let slip from your mouth until it happened. And it didn’t, yet.

And he didn’t know why he said it, he really didn’t know, but the way your eyes lit up as if he was a god you could worship, the way there was a sparkle held in them, so bright yet so appealing. You looked inviting to him, he wanted to eat you alive, but he knew that things had flipped the other way around when he said it. He had just gently asked you to stop sucking him off; that was it. But Gods, what came after…

“There you go” he cooed, gently pushing your head back. “Good girl”

It made your guts spin in a way it never happened before.

Luke didn’t know what got into you. You were suddenly out of breath, your chest pressed against your tight t-shirt suddenly stopping its movements and you just stared at him in awe.

He got scared.

“Are you okay?” he gently asked, attempting to place a stray of your hair behind your ear, but he only reached to cup your jaw before you spoke.

“Call me that again”

He tilted his head, confused.

“What?”

You sighed. “Call me that again” you repeated, voice thick with desperation. “Please?”

Luke hesitated, unsure or what to make of your request. His mind raced with questions, but deep down, he couldn´t deny the thrill that suddenly coursed through his body. He leaned in, elbows resting on his knees, as he raised one of his fingers to trail it down your jaw. “Good girl” he said.

The effect was instantaneous. Your breath hitched, and your eyes fluttered shut at his tender touch, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

A dark chuckle erupted from him, a mean action. A fucking praise kink, you had to be joking. He didn´t know how to feel about it, mainly because he didn´t expect you to be into this type of stuff. But as he started to dig into his mind; how your cheeks flustered red when someone complimented your skills, how you smiled sweetly whenever people praised your new techniques, or the way you styled your hair, or how good you dressed. He had it all in front of his nose and never saw it.

But he also realized, you didn´t want this from anyone. You wanted it from him; his words, his validation, his encouragement, his approval. You wanted him to tell you how good you were, you wanted him.

He brushed his thumb over your lip. “My beautiful baby” he whispered with desire. “All you want to be is good to me, right?”

You opened your eyes slowly, cheeks flushing red. Your heart raced with excitement when you nodded eagerly, unable to deny the truth on his words. All you wanted was to please him, to be everything he wanted and more. You saw his grin widened when he flickered his eyes into yours, then back to your lips. He leaned in more, brushing his pink and puffy lips against yours.

“You´re so needy for me” he murmured in a seductive tone. “But I like it. I like knowing that what you crave are my words. That you´ll do anything to please me”

Your body hummed in anticipation due to the intensity of his words. You tried to lean further into his touch, you wanted more. Luke´s finger trailed down the column of your neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Tell me what you want, baby” he whispered.

Your head was spinning, leaving you breathless for a moment. “I want you” you confessed in a tiny voice. “I want you to take me, to show me that I´m yours”

“Show you that you´re mine?” he repeated, the mockery evident in his voice. But your eyes glistened, shining with tiny tears due to the previous work he had put you through, and because of the sudden fear that you might have taken it too far. It wasn´t your fault though, it was what you felt. The need to please Luke in any way you could was always there, always with you, and now that you had the chance to do it, you and only you, you didn´t wanna miss it. So, as you looked up at him in awe, mesmerized by his features and figure, like a god, he pressed his thumb over the tiny bit of mascara that had escaped your eyes, removing it, he said; “I can do that”

And he did.

It was not hard to fall into Luke Castellan´s arms and have the need to stay there forever. He was poison, intoxicating in the best possible way. His scent, his touch, his presence —, everything about him had you under his spell, captivated by his allure, by the need to belong to him completely.

With one hand pressed on the back of your head and the other holding a tight grip on your hip, Luke moved with a primal, almost animalistic intensity that left you gasping for air in between the pillows. He sent waves through your body with each thrust, along with a tight feeling on your belly every time the tip of his cock hit that sweet spot.

And his words never seemed to stop.

“You´re doing so good, doll. Behaving like the good little girl you are” he murmured under his breath, loud enough for you to hear.

He had gotten rid of your clothes long ago, after giving you the most intense orgasm thanks to his skilled tongue and fingers, now the only piece of clothing covering your body being your panties, messily pulled to the side, growing damp at scratching Luke´s cock with every snap of his hips.

He was growing his praise to you unconsciously, he had to close his eyes many times to prevent himself from exploding into you. You were just so fucking beautiful, he could just cum due to the sight of you; your hair messily flying over your sweaty back, your hands gripping the sheets, the way your flesh squished together when you squirmed or when his hand would grip tighter.

He had to let you know, eventually. “This fucking body is a crime, baby” he cooed. “It´s so perfect. You´re perfect, taking my cock so fucking well”

Luke´s words sent a cold jolt through your body, electrifying every nerve and sending you further into ecstasy. You felt his words dripping down your spine, flames burning like the intense desire in between you two.

“God, Luke” you managed to choke out. “Don´t stop, please”

He responded with a low growl, his movements becoming more urgent as he began to chase down his own release. Your cunt tightened around him more every time, gripping on his cock inside you in a wet and warm embrace that dripped down your thighs. Each thrust was more intense than the last, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

As your bodies moved In perfect synchrony, the room filled with the sound of skin to skin, punctuated by the symphony of your moans and Luke´s ragged breaths.

“I can´t hold back much longer” Luke confessed, his voice strained with effort. “You feel too damn good”

You clung to him desperately, nails digging into the flesh of one of his thighs as you urged him on. And then, with a final, desperate cry, you tumbled over the edge, body twitching momentarily. Luke followed close behind, his own climax crashing over him like a wave, and inside you.

As your pleasure subsided, you collapsed into each other´s arms, and for a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths as you lay there, bodies still sweaty and shaky due to the aftershock of such an electric moment.

You laughed then, a hand covering your face. “What?” Luke asked, a confused smile painted on his face.

“Nothing” you shrugged off, turning your neck towards him, a shy smile in your mouth. “You´re too good at this”

May I suggest: Fernando + cockwarming? For all of us dilf fuckers out there.

(Also you're doing a smashing job with this xoxo)

ANON UR BRAIN IS SO FUCKING BIG!! (and aaa thank u!! ilu <3)

cockwarming, light mentions of kink/bdsm concepts (mostly subspace), afab gn reader as usual

i mean, his dick is Big, its gotta be. even if you're just cockwarming, you're feeling it up in your guts

so it drives you INSANE. this constant pressure and deepness and stimulation but it's never enough

however, it absolutely sends you into subspace

the idea of just being there to be used, to sit on fernando's cock when he wants you

to be sent so utterly crazy by such little stimulation while nando seems totally unaffected, carrying on with what he's doing?

he's just going about his day - sat at his desk doing work, answering emails

but with you in his lap, legs spread wide over his thick thighs, your head cradled against his collarbone and neck

every so often one of you shifts, and it makes your insides flutter, the sudden stimulation of his cock moving inside you after relative stillness

and that sets him off too, his fingers clenching against the wood of the desk as he regains his composure after feeling you tighten around him

but then he's back to work, and you're back to floating in that almost mindless bliss -- not needing to worry about anything else, anything beyond this moment, and fernando's cock nestled deep inside you

if it's cockwarming while he's watching a film or similar, he's more likely to position you with your back to his chest on his lap, even if he knows you're not really watching the film

those strong, calloused hands idly stroking up and down your sides, dipping down to caress the outsides of your thighs and hips

occasionally bringing his fingers down to play with your clit and trace where your pussy is stretched out around his cock

but it isn't foreplay, in a sense

because you won't be coming until much later that evening, after he's had his fun

however, you still feel his deep laughing rumble through his chest as it makes your cunt squeeze around him and your breath catches as a whine in your throat

and when he brings his hands up under your shirt to cup your tits, not even looking away from his film to where you're blissed out on his cock, you just slip that bit deeper 😌

jenson: so what are we?

y/n:... people

😭😭😭😭

mid-dressing up probably. beauty queen leclerc is fixing her dress and putting her heels back on. jenson's watching her try to make herself presentable from his perch on the bed, the white duvet covering the rest of his body and his naked torso's on full display.

"so... what are we?" cause post-coitus, he's sensitive and to be honest, hurt that she's leaving after doing it 😭😭😭

y/n leclerc just looks at him all alarmed. why is he looking at her like that? something on his face?

"... people." she says amusedly, fixing the tangles from her hair and standing up fully. jenson gives her a look, as if to tell her, just? after he'd had her writhing underneath him.

"be more woman-like." he huffs.

"do you want me to kiss your forehead or something?"

This maybe the daddy issues talking but my god who gave these assholes the right to look this fine 😭😭

My favorite blonde twinks 😋🥸

1.1k words, cunnilingus, stressed out jimmy

hungry, horned up, stressed wilson can only cope with messy pussy eating. even when he wants to take, he's actually giving. for someone whose an amalgam of neediness and want, he was never good at expressing it, but one day he just breaks down.

"i- i just really need you right now" he basically sighs his words into the emptied glass. a few drops of water trickle down his jaw and chin. the singular kitchen light illuminates his sheer neediness.

"aww baby, of course," you say, as you gesture him to your lap. some semblance of pride swells up in you. you're taking care of wilson. and not the other way round like he always insists. you're proud of him for admitting that he wants you, needs you, for the first time ever.

he rushes near you, opting for the empty spot on the floor beneath your legs rather than the one beside you. he clutches onto your legs like a raft at first. like he's drowning and your the only thing keeping him afloat. something in your heart sinks seeing him like this. you smooth his soft brown hair, running your hair through his greying streaks. his puppy dog eyes, the gentleness in them.

he whimpers to your touch, nuzzling his face into your lap. shivers run down your back as the sound reverberates in your core. his hands run up and down your calves. you try scratching his back, his neck, his scalp with your nails. his hands start ascending up your legs, now grabbing handfuls of your thighs to knead and grope.

wilson shifts uncomfortably below you. you finally pay attention to his semi. seems a bit painful, honestly. some part of you just wants him to lose control. just this once. fuck whatever it is that bothered him so much into you with whatever energy he may have. god, you want him to use you so bad.

he starts planting wet, desperate kisses onto the inside of your thighs. you instinctively close your thighs around his head, chest heaving with this sudden wave of arousal flowing through you. as he works his way up, a small, almost inaudible "please" escapes his lips amidst the kisses. he's using more teeth now. you slowly stand up and let him undress your lower body. he takes off your shorts and panties in slow tugs and bundles them up to use as padding for his knees. he looks up at you, almost like he worships you, like you're some savior of his. something makes it hard for you to swallow.

wilson tugs you down onto the couch, maybe with a bit more force than he intended, really. his hot breathe makes your joints weak. thoughts of everything he's about to do make it feel like you've lost all control of your muscles.

"wet." he huffs the single syllable between your thighs like a caveman. "so wet."

remarkable observation.

that's all he can mutter out. the sight, the smell, the access; it all made him so hard it ached him. he yanks your cunt closer to his face and gives it a sloppy kiss. you writhe.

his tongue comes next, licking a cold strip on your heat. he buries his face in there, trying to savor your taste on his tongue before going at it again. he taste tests your cunt a couple of times to hear you groan.

but then an unknown devil possesses him. he moves the pace of his tongue from a gentle wine tasting to a rabid feast. god, this man was starved all of a sudden. you yelped in protest, he only moaned into you as a response. every beat resonating through you. he laps you up, tongue reaching front to back and prodding deep inside your hole.

"oh baby, james- i- slower-"

his lips only suckle at your bundle of nerves. your eyes now overflow with tears of burning desire. werent you supposed to help him relax? his nose presses against the hood of your clit, jittering with his exhales that seemed to shake through his jaws too. he was really panting like a dog. all you could do was moan in desperation, your volcanic orgasm burning inside your core, waiting to erupt.

"need it. need you. thank fuck-" he groans into your pussy.

and then he does it. his iron grip on your thigh loosens as he brings his fingers perilously close to your cunt. james- cant- please baby, please rang through you. his sucking, licking and teasing rendered you incapable of putting out any cohesive sentences. you could simply beg. beg for an out, a release to tension building inside of you. his other hand is gone from your thighs too, moved down south to take care of the leaking tent in his office pants.

his little moans leaking out of his pretty lips, coupled with the two fingers inside you and the ever-steady tongue... oh you were about to explode.

"i'm so close, baby, fuckkk- i- i- please keep- ahhh"

a rush flowed through you. you tensed for a moment on his tongue. his fingers. then your spine decompressed. you let go. this felt so good, he felt so good. everything he did.

you tugged on his hair hard. he looked up. what a sight.

his eyes... bit glossy, much like his lips. you could kill him in this moment and he'd thank you, maybe even ask you to do it all over again. his jaw tensed. he looked up at you with an innocence you wouldn't expect from a man who still had two fingers inside you, you slick covering his lips like gloss. he licked them. as much as he hated you for pulling him back to reality in this moment, he could only stare at your flushed face, thanking him for his hard work between your legs with huffs and pants.

a stupid smile tugs at the corners of his glistening mouth. cocky. you like cocky. after all he deserves to feel this way after how he made you feel. he spills his seed in his pants. all after seeing your mouth wide open, cheeks flushed. he did that. he licks your taste off his fingers and wipes his jaw with his forearm. it drives you up the wall.

he gets up to clean you. you look at him with concern in your eyes for a second. is he okay? is this what he needed? certainly what you needed after those long nights being alone. he gets the tissues from the adjacent table.

"i- thank you"

you gape at him. did he just.... thank you?