I’m Actually Personally Offended By The Lack Of Jenson Smut On This Website So…

idk why but i can image seb making baby leclerc ride him but he refuses to help her kinda just going use me how you like darling because he wants to see her teary eyed and begging, just reaffirms that hes the only one who can get her off properly. like aww poor baby cant even get her body to listen to her, this is why youre all mine

WLCBDKCJ SEB U FOKKENG BETCH

"i c-can't seb," you choke on a sob, eyes brimming with unshed tears out of frustration and sheer fucking need, your knees were sore and your legs were practically non existent from holding the position for an unsatisfying amount of time. "please, i-i can't." you whine, blinking rapidly as the tears finally slipped down your cheeks.

you were a needy mess. a beautiful spoiled piece of work... and sebastian wanted you to stay that way. his needy little princess, so dependent on him.

"poor baby can't handle taking care of herself," he tuts, cupping your face gently and cooing, "just bounce, yeah? up, down." he coaxes you, allowing a slight hint of mercy to overcome his unrelenting demeanor, and meeting your hips with a forceful thrust. you gasped.

"i-i cant, sebby." you whine, now full on sobbing and whining. your hands touching upon his naked torso. "please.. please just fuck me already."

sebastian feigns pity, wiping your tears with such a tender caress, you instinctively lean in to his touch. "what would people say if they see you baby? you know you have a reputation, so kind... so innocent..."

you sob, "dont care... wan' you, please seb." you guide his hands to where you met, moaning when his hands touched upon you.

"always have to fucking get what you want," he grunts, eyes darkening. he pulls you in for a searing kiss, both tongue and teeth clashing in the desperate tangle— and he fucks into you, your body thrumming by the way his thrusts were acquainted with that... that sweet spot that made you compliant in his hold.

"who can fuck you like i do?" he mumbles, breathing ragged, your response was merely a plethora of undistinguished whines and helpless moans. "who can make you feel this good?"

"seb..." you writhe, gripping his shoulders for something tangible to hold.

"no one else hase. nobody can make you feel like i do." he whispers on the strands of your hair. certain. so self sure. so fucking cocky.

hi lovely, was wondering if you would be able to write any hotch x bombshell!reader ? maybe before they got together or any scenario/prompt you feel like!

take care of yourself and have a great day!!💝💝

The problem with Aaron Hotchner is that he’s too lovely for his own good. He might not think of himself that way. Not many, if any, of the office would agree. Morgan thinks Hotch is a hard-ass and Elle likes him in her way, but she rolls her eyes when he gets snippy, and Spencer… well, you think you and Spencer are probably on the same page. 

Hotch is kind, and a good man, and if he looks handsome when he’s frustrated that’s just how nature intended it to be. 

“Stop it.” 

“No.” 

“Stop.” Hotch levels you with a look over his computer. You’re surprised he knows how to use it, considering the semi-permanent callus on the pointer finger of his right hand. You must’ve watched him pen a thousand case files, consults and forms in a love letter to the old ways. 

He types slowly, but you’ve decided to keep your comment about it to yourself. “You’re looking at me like you know something I don’t,” he says. 

“Maybe I do.” 

“I’m sure you do. Stop bragging.” 

You lean on your elbow on the desk. He’s got a file open in front of him he’s transcribing for the sake of security. It details a case from a few months ago, and each line of the investigation is printed in Hotch’s neat script, lilting to the left over time. He frowns as he turns a page and realises it’s practically margin to margin with detail.

You want to offer to do it for him, but he’ll say no. You want to slide your foot up the leg of his slacks to see if he’ll blush as he did last Friday when you’d done the same thing, Gideon in the doorway none the wiser and somehow disapproving regardless. 

And Hotch, he’d laughed like a kid when the door closed, not turned on in the slightest but endeared by the guts it took you to try. Then he’d sort of enticed you around the desk somehow —you don’t remember the before of it, only slinking to his side with your heels tumbled on their sides under the desk still, his palms wide and open as you settled on a wooden corner. 

“I’m pretty good on the computer.” 

“I know,” Hotch says. “I authorised your computing and communications technology seminar myself.” 

“I was good at it before the mandatory company training garbage,” you say without heat, wondering how you might entice him over your side of the desk. Flirting aloud doesn’t work. Neither does footsie, and besides, what fun is that for you? But he’d looked at you in this strange way, none of his commanding sternness about him. A smile lingered on his lips; he can’t have known he was smiling at all, or it wouldn’t have shown. He’d left something honest there for you to see. 

Maybe it’s in your best interest to let down your own walls for a minute, too. 

“I could help,” you say. “Perhaps not from the same file, but I can get the laptop and start on the Maryland stuff. If you like.”

He looks at you steadily over the computer. His eyes seem lighter, the suspicious set to his mouth oddly close to smiling. “What do you want?” he teased quietly. 

“Nothing. Just figured it would make your life easier.”

“When have you ever made my life easier?” 

Your smile slips before you can stop it. Immediately, Hotch isn’t smiling either. The, “Oh, I didn’t mean it like that, honey,” almost doesn’t reach you, over that sharp second of hurt. 

“It’s fine.” You plaster on a smile again to save him the trouble. “I know you didn’t.” 

“No, really. I didn’t mean that.”

“Hotch,” you say, thumbing over his name slowly, “I know. We were teasing.” 

“Flirting,” he corrects. 

Your smile is real, then. “Flirting?” you ask. “That’s rather forward. Flirting might imply we like one another enough to, oh, I don’t know, help each other with our overflowing workloads?” 

He looks at you, all dark and him, steady, strong, all the stupid things that draw you in. You’re not just in it for his arms, however tightly corded they might seem when he’s pulling off his tie after a long day. “You do more than enough for me just sitting there,” he says, holding your gaze with a careful casualness that has your heart tripping in your chest. “Can you do that for me?” 

“Do what? Just sit here looking pretty?” 

His shoe touches your ankle. “Exactly,” he says quietly. “Just sit there exactly as you are. I promise I don’t need anything else from you.” 

Warmed from the inside out, you sit back in your chair. Grinning like a fool. “Why didn’t you just say that?” you ask. Any chance at sounding casual is lost when your voice comes out gossamer thin. 

He looks you over appraisingly. “See?” he says, turning back to his case file. “Thank you, honey. You’re a big help.” 

You swing one leg over the other to get comfortable, crossing your arms over your stomach smugly. “I know.” 

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Favorite fics part. 3

13. Kimi Raikkonen:

Him using ice (smut)

Only the best for you (smut)

Reader gets injured (fluff)

Spoken admiration (fluff)

14. Marcus Armstrong:

Careful daughter (fluff)

Sidewalk rule (fluff)

15. Lewis Hamilton:

Please (smut)

Don't give me that look (smut)

16. Jenson Button:

No such thing as I can't (+SV) (smut)

Reader reading spicy books (smut)

Jenson is your boss (smut)

Something devoured (smut)

Innocent mind (smut)

Morning rush (suggestive)

Sugar daddy (fluff)

Be your wingman (fluff)

Ugly Christmas sweater (fluff)

17. Toto Wolff:

Something desired (smut)

Sleeping on his back (fluff)

18. Mark Webber:

Swimming (smut)

Christmas music (fluff)

19. Fernando Alonso

Something spoiled (smut)

Your pick (smut)

Reader getting jealous (suggestive)

20. Yuki Tsunoda:

God knows I'm tired (fluff)

21. Logan Sargeant:

954. (smut)

Summer in the 305 (fluff)

My one and only (fluff)

From the garage to the hotel (fluff)

Viva las Vegas (fluff)

22. Liam Lawson:

And they were roommates (smut)

Him teasing reader (smut)

The man with the hex (fluff, suggestive)

Tickle attack (fluff)

Reader playing with his hair (fluff)

Good, now sleep (fluff)

23. Clement Novalak:

Brother's best friend (suggestive)

24. Paul Aaron:

Only one bed (fluff)

25. Ollie Bearman:

Go back to bed (fluff)

26. Zak O'Sullivan:

Nuggets and shakes 9FLUFF0

Random:

Driver!Reader getting in a crash (fluff)

Movie Night | Fernando Alonso

It was supposed to be an innocent movie night, it really was. Except you were completely and utterly turned on- not wanting to admit it because Fernando seemed so excited to watch this movie. You really wouldn't be in the desperate state you were if he hadn't come out of the shower, dripping wet and leaning on the door frame and all- you really were set up for failure.

So there you were, head on his shoulder, with his arm wrapped around you as you clenched and rubbed your thighs together to get some friction going. You could feel his calloused hands rub your shoulder occasionally and that was not helping at all- it was actually doing the exact opposite, it was making you so desperate and needy you felt like you could scream. Jus the feel of his hands against your skin burning desires into you. But he seemed so interested in the movie and just didn't seem as horny as you were, plus you felt bad since this was the first time in a while where you two managed to sit together and relax. Except for you though, you were definitely not relaxed.

You frankly had no idea what you were watching, you'd even manage to forget the name of the movie in the haze you were in. All you focused and cared about were his stupid grey sweatpants and how good his arms looked through his t-shirt and good he'd feel if he just fucked you into the couch right now-

"Is the movie not good?" He asked, face turned to yours, smirk tugging on his lips.

"No no, it's great." You chirped, lying as to cover up your thoughts. Even after all this time, he still made you all flustered.

"Hm, yeah you like it?" He asked, now completely turned to you, his face exhibiting a sort of cockiness you were far too familiar with; he had caught onto your lie and was going to make you admit to it.

"Yeah, it's nice, I'm glad we get to do this." You smiled nuzzling into him to distract him.

"Yeah, yeah." He replied, kissing your head and drawing circles on your arm before chuckling and continuing, "Except I've noticed something."

You shut your eyes in his chest, you knew where he was taking this conversation.

"You seem a bit, uh, distracted." Without seeing his face, you could tell he was smirking.

"Oh really? yeah sorry I must be uh, zoning out." Now you had to hold your ground, you weren't going to give up so easily.

"Hm yeah, is that why you were rubbing your thighs during a funeral scene?" He asked, almost unable to contain the laugh that vibrated through his chest. "Is there something you want to tell me? Cariño are you getting turned on at funeral scenes? Or is something else on your mind?"

The blood was rushing straight to your face. You were so distracted that you hadn't noticed that he'd not only see you rub your thighs, but he was fully aware of your lack of interest in the film.

"I don't know what you're talking about." You huffed, pretending to be offended.

"Hm, you don't?" He asked, pulling you away from him so he could see your face.

"Nope." You lied again, despite knowing that he was on your case. You couldn't even look him in the eye, nor could you look at any other part of him, his arms holding you felt so good, your thoughts were at the verge of wandering away again, despite your circumstances.

"You're not turned on?" He asked again, eyes crinkling on the sides from his smirk.

"Nope." You couldn't get any other word out, afraid that your lie would get caught.

He didn't reply this time, only pushing you further away till your back hit the couch, making your eyes widen in response. His silence made you nervous, his devilish smirk not aiding your cause. He brought his face close to yours, close enough where you could feel his breath on your lips. One of his hands propping him over you, while the other slid down your waist, pausing at the hem of your panties, stretching it and letting go abruptly, the noise clearly audible despite the movie in the background. Your yelp only made him chuckle.

"You know I don't like it when you lie y'know."

"But I'm not lying." You whined, trying to get yourself out of the trouble you'd be in momentarily.

"You're not? What if I put my hands in your little soaking panties to check, hm?" He asked, his hands already making their way to your very wet entrance. "Oh, would you look at that, my naughty little girl was lying."

You gulped, eyes fixated on his, chest heaving against his, anticipating his every move. You knew how hot he'd get when he'd punish you, and you knew that despite your futile efforts, that movie had been long forgotten between you two.

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A/N: I don't talk about my second favourite Spaniard enough, god he's so hot I need him like I need air.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the blurb. As usual, send in requests or criticism, love u all<3

divine figures — luke castellan + reader : nothing could steer luke off his path to god now, until you came along. 

tags : southern setting au, small town setting, loser!luke, idolization, christian religious references & imagery, religious inconsistencies, church sex, religious guilt, body worship, sex but poetic, cannibalistic imagery…………..

a/n : heavily inspired by the lovely @murdrdocs!! 

luke castellan was never one to follow a religion, well, not at first he wasn’t. he thought it was all bullshit, to put your all into someone nobody is sure even exists, it’s bullshit. but then his mom began insisting that he went, that he needed to find god, they both did, so he went.   

luke lacked a father figure, so when he stared up at the statue perched at the apse of the church, he found the man he always lacked in his life, no matter how much the statue ignored his gaze, never bothering to look his way. he was quick to read the bible like it was a drug he just couldn’t get enough of, he sat straight with his eyes forward during each sermon, he kept himself pure. 

and he stuck true to that, until you came. 

he never really noticed you at first, but you were always there. 

always looking over your shoulder to his place in the pew, always smiling at him when he accidentally glances your way, always passing by his house on your bike on hot summer days in hopes of seeing him outside, shirtless and working on his mother’s car. 

you hadn’t mustered up the proper courage to speak to him, not until your parents have tugged you over to where he stood with his mother in the nave. your mother and father immediately sparked up conversation with his mother, leaving you to awkwardly look around the church in hopes of finding something worthy of speaking of. nothing, there was nothing. so you just mumbled out a, “hey.” 

he hesitates for a second, “hi.” 

“did you like the sermon?” your southern drawl, along with your sugar coated smile, luke can feel the thumping of his heart against his knit sweater. 

“‘course,” he smiles shyly, “i always do— um.. did you?” 

you nod at him, your ability to hold eye contact so well had him feeling nervous, constantly breaking it to glance around the room, “are you excited for easter?”

luke’s lips curve to a brighter smile, one that proves that he hopes that with jesus’ return, there will be a proper savior for him, his prayers will finally be listened to, maybe for once the statue on the wall will glance his way. 

jesus molded everything about luke, at this point, if he couldn’t believe in his father, jesus was going to take that place— and he did, luke was taught everything by the bible, all he ever relied on was the words of the lord, everything he ever did was a representation of what lied in those scriptures. he never worshipped another god, never said the lord’s name in vain, always remembered sabbath day, as well as honored his mother and… father. 

he didn’t commit adultery, in fact, he never spoke to women, really. his mother kept him sheltered, he was only allowed to speak to the women at church, not any of the women who rode on their bikes past his house, or smiled at him in the library. he just stared at them for a minute and looked away, contemplating how different things would be if he was able to speak to them. 

at the thought of women, luke’s mind races back to you, who is currently blinking at him and thinking he didn’t hear you. “i am excited— for easter, will you be at— the um.. the church that day?” 

another nod, then an awkward silence as you find nothing more to say, and neither does he. the church was a beautiful place, decorated with swirls of gold and dark wood, colorful stained glass windows that painted pictures of jesus, or virgin mary. if luke could move out of his home and live somewhere he genuinely enjoyed, it would be the church. 

there was something so comforting about it, maybe the faint music that played in the background, or the way it smelled of old books and floral perfumes, or the fact that it was just a place where so many people went to put their faith into someone. god was just so important, if luke didn’t know any better, he’d envy him. 

“you should come on sabbath days,” you interject his thoughts, leaning in to his vision. 

he blinks, eyes refocusing on your face, and he awkwardly chuckles, scratching the back of his neck, “i thought they were for relaxation?” 

“and worship,” you correct, and he crystalizes the memory of how each word sounds on your tongue, how it flows out so well, how it makes him swallow. 

“right, right,” he wets his lips nervously, “i’ll just— ask my mom. mama?” 

as soon as he asks his mom, she’s all smiles at him, nodding and even shaking your hand, thanking you for urging him to go to church more. 

“i’ll see you there,” is the last thing you say to luke that day. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

luke would be a liar to say he wasn’t riddled with visions of you in the darkest parts of the night, they started from the day you first spoke to him, and never left him since. he hated how much it plagued him, because it tempted him so well. it was like you were eve, offering him, adam, the apple. you reassure him that it’s sweet, that there’s no harm in taking a bite, and luke is parting his lips, ready to taste it, when he finally wakes up. 

the heat of the room is beating down on him, even in the cool of the night. his skin is sticky from sweat, and all he can ever think about is you. it should be a crime, really, how much you had consumed his every waking thought. for once, he wasn’t thinking of the bible verses he would be reading that day, what prayer he would be saying. 

luke didn’t know one thing about women, but the way you spoke to him, the way you smiled at him, the glints in your eyes, it had him wondering how he could make your face twist up in pleasure— fuck. he shouldn’t be thinking like this, it’s unholy, it’s weird, but he’s already in too deep. 

he’s already fed the memory of how pink your lips are, how soft they look, they probably feel the same. is it a sin to wonder how well you kiss? would you be all - consuming? or slow, sweet? luke doesn’t know why he prefers if you’d be hungry, if you’d bite and nip at him like you’re hungry, like he’s the last supper. 

his boxers feel tight on his skin, dick twitching in the confines of them. luke hardly knows this feeling well, he wasn’t one to allow himself to get hard, nor was he one to properly take care of it. but something about the idea of your teeth clashing against his when you kiss him, pushing your tongue into his mouth to taste him properly— it had his fingers pushing underneath the waistband of his underwear. 

when his fingertips graze his cock, he immediately shudders, lashes fluttering. every time luke touched himself, it felt like the first time, only now it felt.. better. better because he was thinking of you. luke had never watched porn, he hardly knows what it is, so the idea of what sex would be like is.. a gray area for him. 

but he works with what his mind is capable of, which is dry humping. the first setting that comes to mind is the church, which leaves a bitter taste on his tongue, but he goes with it. it comes to vividly, you on his lap, wet patch evident on his jeans from where your hips push down, whispering sweet nothings into his ear. when you moan, he does, when you whimper, he does, when you roll your hips, he does. 

everything was in sync, and it was all so sinful. masturbation itself wasn’t a sin, unless you thought of someone, and for the longest time, luke never thought of anyone, but you were a parasite he couldn’t shake, and he honestly wasn’t sure if he wanted to. 

luke wonders how much the priest will judge him when he utters these thoughts, these events in the confessional tomorrow. he has only ever uttered small, pitiful confessions, i didn’t help my mom with dinner, i turned in a book to the library late, i forgot to pray. he’s never had to confess anything larger. 

heat bubbles in luke’s stomach, it’s pleasant, sweet, but it curls, and curls until it’s suffocating, until his wrist is hurting from the fast pumps of his cock, sweat glistening on his skin, cheeks flushed. he can feel a whine scratching up his throat, in the confines of his mind, something is screaming at him, telling him to stop, but it’s too late, he can barely hear it over the blood pumping in his ears. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

when luke comes into the church the next day, it’s a saturday, a sabbath day. typically on these days, he would be spending his time lounging around his house, reading some piece of classical literature that he has hidden from his mother, wishing to keep the inked pictures of statues reeking of desire for one another a secret. 

but he was here, and so, he prayed. 

the sun had barely risen over the horizon (courtesy of daylight savings), yet the candles in the church were lit, leaving an orange hue to project around the empty room. 

luke felt gross, corrupt, unholy. 

for once, luke feels as though the statue above is glaring down on him, and he tries his best to not shrink into himself under the piercing gaze. he knows. his mouth is dry with each prayer, fingers sweaty around the rosary, but he wouldn’t allow himself to falter once more. 

as soon as he starts his fifth prayer, he hears the creak of the floorboards that he knows all too well, eyes fluttering open so he can look back to see who was there, hoping they hadn’t heard his last confessions in his prayers. 

you. his mind is tugged to a halt, every prayer he had rehearsed on his way to the church, completely forgotten. it was all just.. you. you seared on his skin, burned him until he was nothing but smoke. your gaze softens on him, a stark contrast to jesus’ pointed glares, “i didn’t think you’d come.” 

his voice is coarse from the nonstop prayers, “of course i would.” 

all he can think about is you underneath him, his own skin bitten and scratched, decorated in mulberry and deep pinks, he’s practically salivating at the idea. he wonders if, behind the confines of the church walls, would anyone hear you? would the priests dare to look for whoever is letting out such unholy noises? 

luke feels frozen the second he comes back to reality, dick hardening underneath the fabric beyond his control, his mind is tearing itself apart before he can even realize you’re speaking to him. 

“— wondering if you’d like to sit next to me tomorrow,” you pose, seemingly unaware of the bulge in luke’s pants that he is desperately trying to naturally cover with his hands. but you knew, you knew the effect you had on him, and he had the same effect on you. 

is it so cruel to only tease him harder? 

luke swallows the remaining saliva in his drying mouth, quickly moving to a stand, rosary bringing more attention to his covered crotch, “sure, yes— um.. i need to— go.” 

before you can even say anything, he is pushing past you, hand moving only to chastly grab your waist for a mere second as he passes, an instinct of trying to keep you stable, but it only makes a heat between your legs grow. 

desires go both ways, and it’s only a matter of time before they snap. 

˚₊‧꒰ა ♱ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

easter was once luke’s most anticipated day of the year, but now it was the day of his nightmares. he barely slept last night, kept himself awake with chores, prayers, and reading the bible until it made him sick. he couldn’t have another dream, he couldn’t let you get to him anymore. he thought it would be easy to avoid you today, but he was cursed with his own mistakes as you sat down next to him in the pew. 

the worst part wasn’t that you sat down next to it, it’s that his mind was riddled with disgusting thoughts as soon as he saw how your dress brushed up your thighs, it was so simple, such a small act, but it just made him think the worst possible things. 

you bent over the pew, the bottom of your dress tugged up to show your panties, his hands are gripping your hips like his life depends on it, crotch pressed to your clothed pussy from behind. 

luke blinks back with his cheeks hot, noticing the bible in your hands. when he speaks, he doesn’t even realize what he’s saying, it’s like he’s possessed, “what verse are you reading?” 

“luke 22:40,” you say it so simply, a smile barely teasing your lips. 

on reaching the place, 

he said to them, “pray that you 

will not fall into temptation.” 

the saliva on luke’s tongue is sour, near poisonous, his lips were stained maroon from the skin of the apple. luke 22:40 was the exact line he had been reciting to himself, luke was his name. the serpent was squeezing him tight, his breath felt swiped away from his lungs. 

luke is quiet for the rest of the evening, even through the sermon, when he should be smiling when everyone else is, clapping when everyone else is— he is just silent, blank - faced. 

you can’t decipher what he’s feeling until everyone has gone off to eat after the sermon, and he’s tugging you back into the pew once it’s vacant, fingers forming a tight grip around your wrist, “why are you doing this?” 

he’s out of breath, and no matter how tough he tries to seem, he sounds pathetic, his voice a near whimper, like he’s pleading with you. 

“doing what?” you blink up at him, doe eyes making his teeth press together. 

“you’re tempting me— this, this isn’t fair, why?” his breath is shaky when he exhales. 

“i’m not doing anything, luke.” 

“you’re making me think— making me imagine things.. sinful things.” 

“what exactly are you thinking?” your voice is softer, and the heat of the sun is seeping into the church. 

“i..” how can he explain himself? every image that he wants to communicate is all too disgusting, a mixture of hunger and desire, it seemed luke wanted you to eat him alive, “you know what i’m thinking.” 

“why don’t you show it to me?” 

absolution; 

formal release from guilt, 

obligation, or punishment. 

or.. 

an ecclesiastical declaration

of forgiveness of sins.

morals trickle down luke’s back when he kisses you, he knows it’s all wrong, he knows he could just leave it at a kiss, but he didn’t want to be haunted with these visions any longer, maybe if he made them a reality, they would just leave. he could be himself again, the picture - perfect religious boy he was always supposed to be. the kiss is small at first, the hesitant movement of lips, the adjusting to the feeling, but it quickly grows into something hungry. 

luke didn’t know how to properly kiss, so he just followed your lead, and soon enough, he was kissing you like a starving man. from tongues clashing, to his hand mindlessly moving to your hip, body pressing against yours, it was everything he saw in the pictures printed in those books he read. 

when luke falls back into his seat on the pew, you had pulled away from him, admiring how flushed his lips are. when your hand meets his jaw, luke forgets who his god is supposed to be, all he can think about is you, even on the day dedicated to the man he has spent all of his life worshiping. 

“please,” it’s barely even audible, only made out by the slight flick of his tongue from the l. 

“tell me what you want.” 

it felt like luke was sitting in the confessional, admitting all of his nastiest desires when his lips part, finally being able to say his thoughts out loud, “can you— ride me? or.. if you don’t want to— that’s okay.” does luke know what riding is? only from the overheard gossip of other men, but he was told it was something he had to try, when he got married, of course. 

“i want to,” it’s as if you aren’t in a church, as if nobody could just walk in and see how you’re moving onto his lap, moving his hands to your ass, letting his desperate fingers tug your dress up. his purity bracelet brushes against your skin when you move to guide his hands to your ass, watching the nervous look in his eyes when he squeezes the flesh. 

he has no idea what he’s doing, he just wants to please you, to make you feel as good as he made himself feel to the idea of you the other night. maybe, at this point, luke isn’t praying to jesus, maybe he never was, because you were always in the back of his mind. no matter how guilty it made him feel, how many times he had squeezed his tear - ridden eyes shut and wished he was different, wished he wasn’t so easy to fall for temptation. 

god is watching, is what his mind tells him, but your eyes tell him to keep going, watching as he moves his hands to unbuckle his belt, the sound of metal clinging being so improper for the walls ridden with crosses, but it just felt so right. he sucks in a sharp breath when he pulls out his dick, the cool air searing his delicate skin, pupils blown wide when they watch your lips slightly part at the sight. 

 “you’re so big,” is all you can manage out. 

luke’s lips twitch around a small smile, “is that a good thing?” 

“if it fits,” you move through a few twists to properly take your panties off, letting them hang off your ankle when you reposition yourself to have your entrance pressing against the tip of his dick, “then yes.” 

luke’s lips press together as soon as you start sinking down on him, you’re so slow with it it’s almost torturous. the holy water he had dipped his water in and pressed to his skin, was now scorching him with each inch that filled your velvet walls. when you reached the hilt, it was safe to say you felt stuffed, and luke was making more noise than you. 

whimpers, grunts, he tried to hide them all behind the confines of his lips, but they dug their nails into his throat and crawled their way up until it was impossible for him to hold them back. as soon as you began moving, luke was purely fighting for his life against the own noises leaving him to the point of where he had to sit up, pressing his lips to your neck, he was quick to press his lips against the sensitive areas, biting, sucking— he wasn’t even sure if he was doing it properly, but he was just so desperate. 

he wanted you to shatter him like fine porcelain, to snap off his glass parts and crush them underneath your fingers with pure ease, to deconstruct every inch of him that he had taken years to build. no matter how empty he would feel in the end, to put himself in your hands, like a lump of clay in the hands of a goddess, he trusted your instincts. 

“i want you to ruin me,” he mumbles against the flesh of your neck, barely audible. 

“what?” your voice is breathless between moans, walls tightening around his dick with each movement of your hips. 

he whimpers out a simple, “sorry.” 

you didn’t forget his words, though, in fact, you let your fingers run through his dark curls, tangling through them until you tugged him back from your neck, just so you can take his place, now the one pressing your lips to his neck. he felt small underneath you, but he didn’t hate it, he liked the way that your lips felt on his skin, enough for him to lean his head back to provide you more blank canvas. 

you painted him in maroons and mulberries, blooming rose petals on his skin, marking him as your own. no matter how much luke knew he would be praying for forgiveness tonight, in this moment, everything he’s ever stood for has fallen off his broad shoulders. his hair is messy and sticking to his sweaty forehead, skin peppered with bite marks, deep reds, purples, every color in between and beyond.

“‘m gonna—“ luke’s words come out choked, dick pulsing inside of you, “gonna cum—“ 

luke’s orgasm hits him hard enough to have tears pooling into his eyes, maybe it was the guilt, or the everlasting pleasure, he wasn’t entirely sure, how could he even be? all he could think of was you, now. 

“do you still believe in god?” you offer him once you’re off him and he’s putting his belt back on. 

he stares at you for a second, hesitating, then his lips part, “yes.” 

I’d like to ride mick’s thigh. As a treat.

treat, punishment, sunday afternoon activity.

yes please.

(anyone have pics of his thighs? for uh… research?)

untouched - max verstappen x reader

pairing : max verstappen x fem!reader warnings : smut, oral (female receiving), dry humping word count : 1k summary : while max is giving you head, his mind is clouded with one thought : will he last long enough or come untouched ? a/n : hi !! this is my first time writing in a veryyy long time, also english isn't my first langage so excuse me if you see any mistake!! but i hope you'll enjoy it !! xoxo bunny

your hands were pulling on his hair, moans and whines were the only things that could be heard in the room.

max had been between your thighs for a while now, lapping and torturing your clit, he seemed more eager than ever before, acting like a starved man.

he had you seeing stars and you could feel the usual knot forming in your stomach, a feeling that max never struggled to make you feel and he indulged himself in this. it would be a lie to say that max didn’t take pride in how good he was able to make you feel with his tongue, mouth and fingers. he knew your body like the back of his hand.

but today, you weren’t the only one feeling the heat rising in your lower body and knowing yourself coming close to a climax.

it wasn’t the first time that max felt himself getting close without being touched, but it was the first time it happened while going down on you.

his hips involuntarily bucked up, his clothed crotch brushing against the mattress and giving him the slightest of friction. of course it wasn’t enough and of course he wanted more, but his whole focus was on you, your pleasure was his priority even if it meant ignoring his own.

your moans were getting louder and louder and his cock was harder than ever in his tight pants but max was determined to make you come before anything else, even tho his mind was clouded with the want of taking off his pants. he needed to release the pressure his clothes had on him.

"oh god max i’m… oh fuck i’m close!"

your words were a melody to his ears mixed with your delicious moans and if he could he would bottle them up to listen to them on repeat. he was sure that he’d never get tired of them, he’d never get tired of you.

and it all suddenly came to him, his eyes widening at the realisation that he was way closer than he thought. he felt his cock twitching in his boxer when he decided to give up. "fuck it" he thought as he positionned himself and begin to slowly roll his hips against the mattress, finally getting the relief he needed so much.

it didn’t take long for him to reach his orgasm which made him back up from your body for a quick second, to catch his breath. he then went right back at it, his hands holding your thighs as close to his head as possible, his fingers were sure to leave marks on your skin in the morning and he loved that.

"don’t stop, i’m coming… please max"

his right hand left your thigh and quickly found your clit, his thumb started massaging the bundle of nerves, making your back arche. then you finally you came, all of the pleasure and the tension washing over your body like a wave.

your thighs were squeezing his head, something he was used to and would never complain about. he made sure his mouth left a trail of kisses along the inside of your thighs before getting up and he stood there for a few seconds, to admire your body, your -still- slightly shaking thighs, your messed up hair and your knuckles who were still white from holding and pulling so much at his hair. you were his most prized trophy, the one that he would never let go of, the one worth everything, every sacrifice.

"fuck… want me to return the favor love ?"

and that is when the man, the second time world champion suddenly felt embarrassed for the first time, in a very long time. max had managed to forget how he painted his briefs white with his cum, how minutes ago he came untouched, just driven by your pretty sounds.

"i uh.. no don’t you worry sweetheart"

you were surprised and kind of taken aback, not used to your long term boyfriend rejecting such an offer. one thing that max never said no to -usually- was head from you and you knew that he loved it. he loved seeing you on your knees in front of him, doing your very best to please him and his refusal kind of worried you.

"oh, is everything okay ?"

he knew he couldn’t hide it no more, especially not to you when you were the one that made him come undone in his tight pants. without touching him you were still the one that got him to climax and that alone showed just how much of an effect you had on him.

"i don’t really know how to say this but i.. yeah i already came"

your eyes widened and a smile formed on your face.

"don’t laugh i’m not joking y/n!"

you couldn’t help but laugh, hiding your smile with your hand. even tho he might not think about it this way, you found that incredibly flattering. making your boyfriend come without even undressing him made something inside of you switch, it gave you a full boost of confidence and you were not about to let that opportunity go.

"ooohh you poor thing, i didn’t even get to touch you yet!"

"sorry baby, i couldn’t control myself, you sounded like an angel.."

fuck, max verstappen knew his way with words. but he wasn’t the only one able to play this type of games.

"if only you knew how angelic you sound, maybe you would let me deal with you tonight.."

as you said that, you got into your knees in front of him and unzipped his pants. max didn’t move, his cock already getting harder at your sight. your eyes looked up at him before pulling his pants down. and here you saw the wet patch on his underwear and licked your lips, the thought of max coming on himself making you squeeze your thighs together.

"y/n please"

"please what?"

you were quick to answer him while slowly pulling his underwear down, finally freeing his cock from his boxer and taking ahold of it. max threw his head back and his hand went to your hair, lightly grasping it.

"please touch me"

"as you wish my love"

max knew he was in for a long night when your lips wrapped around the head of his cock, and god knows how much he was excited about it.

react (pt. II)

toto wolff x fem!reader

summary: toto takes his game one step further.

warnings: dirty talk, smut (sex toys, humiliation kink, mean!toto, daddy kink, squirting), inappropriate use of a bow tie [18+ MINORS D.N.I.]

notes: my need to get dicked down by this old man will never tire. check out part one if you haven't yet! (ignore the fact that i wrote pt. 1 in past tense, i hadn't yet learned that i'm much more comfy with present 🤪)

words: 2,689

❣️ dirty thangs under the cut ❣️

"I’d feel sorry for you if fucking your brains out wasn’t going to be the highlight of my evening.”

Toto's crude words echo in your brain as he half leads, half drags your overstimulated body down the hallway to the elevator, making you nearly trip over yourself. Your legs shake as your nerves are set on fire from the continuous vibration inside of you.

"Toto," your voice barely rises above a whisper out as he punches the call button. "Please, can you turn it off just until we get to the room?"

He takes a beat to look at your quaking body - your eye makeup is starting to bleed from your sudden onset of tears that arose when he had you pinned against the wall, and a red flush is covering your chest, blooming out from underneath the sodden material of your dress. He loves you like this, wide-eyed and on the brink of breaking down for him, and he's never wanted to fuck you more. But instead, he says:

"Now, why would I want to do that," he smiles wickedly, "When I'm having so much fun?"

The bright ding of the elevator arriving nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and Toto roughly pushes you inside ahead of him. Before the doors even close, he has a hand wrapped around your neck and is backing you up into the mirror - the same one in which he had lovingly admired you only a while ago.

The bare skin of your upper back makes contact with the cold glass and Toto roughly slits a leg in between yours. The sensation of his muscular thigh tensing beneath the wool of his tuxedo pants draws a gasp from you. Only the thin scraps of fabric of your gown and drenched panties separate the two of you, and you desperately begin to seek friction with his leg, grinding your hips down.

At the feeling of your pelvis rolling against him, he lets out a small laugh.

"Look at you, so desperate to cum that you're actually humping my leg."

You let out a soft whine as you begin to relieve some of the tension that's been boiling inside of you, threatening to spill over at any second. The rolls of your hips begin to quicken and Toto is fast to clamp his free hand onto your hip, fingers digging into the plump skin painfully hard, hard enough to stop your movements.

"Don't you dare cum, schatzi," he warns, eyes fiery and fingers tensing around the column of your neck. "If you cum, I'm not going to touch you for a month. When I told you I couldn't wait to get you underneath me I wasn't fucking around."

Another ding signals the stop of your floor. With that, he withdraws his leg, leaving you somehow even more strung out than when you entered the elevator. He doesn't wait for you as he walks down the hallway, and you practically have to peel yourself off the mirror to follow after him.

As soon as the door to the hotel room closes behind you, he removes his tuxedo jacket, throwing it haphazardly across the king-sized bed. You clock the frantic motion - you know Toto wants this just as bad as you do, even when he plays up the cold and uncaring side of his demeanor. Toto catches your eyes and looks at you expectantly as he undoes the cufflinks of his dress shirt and begins rolling the sleeves up to his elbow.

Your skin heats up at the sight of those muscular arms and you're reminded of how much power Toto truly holds over you, both mentally and physically.

"Why aren't your clothes off, schatz?" he asks pointedly. "Don't just stand there staring at me."

Wordlessly, you slip the straps of your dress off your shoulders, the soft material falling to the floor where it pools around your high heels. Shame fills you when you push your wet thong down and feel the cool air of the room hit your wetness and your hard nipples. You crouch down to hide your nakedness and start to unbuckle the straps of your heels when Toto snaps his fingers at you.

"Leave them on," he says sternly. "And don't try to cover yourself up, either."

Your face grows hot at the authority in his voice and you tentatively begin to stand up, limply dropping your arms at your sides.

"Knees." Toto commands, beginning to undo the knot of his bowtie.

"What?" you squeak out, confused.

"I said," he repeats tersely, sliding the tie off his neck and pointing at the space on the floor just beyond the foot of the bed. "Knees. I think toys make you a bit dumb, darling. Or maybe you had too much to drink back there?"

Your cheeks flush at his crude words but you follow his instructions, knees sinking into the soft carpeting of the room. You're still fighting the instinct to cover up when he walks behind you and roughly pulls your arms behind your back, crossing them at the wrist just above the curve of your ass.

"What are you doing?" you gasp softly.

"Since you're obviously having a hard time following instructions tonight," he taunts, slipping the satin material of the tie around your crossed wrists. "I think you need a little reminder of who's in charge here."

He punctuates his words with a harsh yank of the tie, and you realize he's tied your wrists together. He steps back around in front of you and when you look up you feel the ache between your thighs grow stronger.

All 6' 5" of him practically towers over you, and he's just so painfully handsome, with his sharp bone structure and brown hair that's verging on the edge of wild from absentmindedly raking his hands through it during dinner. When you first met him, you were intimidated by his appearance and commanding personality, not to mention the largeness of, well...everything about him. You didn't know then how quickly and easily he could oscillate between soft and mean, or how much you'd love the feeling of him breaking you down bit by bit. He brings a hand down to cup your chin, caressing your tear-stained cheek with his thumb.

"I probably didn't even need to tie you up, all I had to do is say 'hold your arms behind your back and don't fucking move,'" he smirks, now stroking the pad of his thumb over your quivering bottom lip. "And you're such a good girl, you just listen. You'd never disobey Daddy, do you schatzi?"

His thumb slips into your mouth then, leaving you only able to shake your head side to side in response. You curl your tongue over the digit, sucking your own tears off of it gently and looking up at him through your wet lashes.

Toto looks at you with an almost adoring look on his face and reaches his free hand down to stroke the crown of your head, his fingers pushing loose strands of fine hair away from your face. The tender moment is short-lived, though, and he suddenly pulls his thumb out of your mouth with a pop and is quick to replace it with his middle and ring fingers, shoving them roughly against your tongue.

You whine at the metallic taste of his wedding band and the hand lovingly stroking your head moves to roughly grip the hair at the base of your scalp, forcing you to crane your head up towards him. He uses the new angle to push his fingers deeper into your mouth and you gag around the thickness of them.

"Open that pretty mouth up, liebling, I know you can do better. You take Daddy's cock all the time, no?"

It doesn't take long to turn you into a drooling, needy mess, shifting your thighs together as you let out frustrated, muffled whines. Somewhere in the cloud of need and spit and his fingers in your mouth, you barely notice that he's finally turned off the vibrator. The dormant toy, while still creating a fullness, is nothing compared to what you want - the familiar feeling of his dick stuffed inside of you.

He makes quick work of his suit pants, unzipping them only enough to release his cock from the confines of his underwear. It springs up, the tip hitting the bottom of his toned stomach, and you feel your mouth reflexively begin to water when you see pre-cum collecting on it.

Toto fists his length with one hand, leading it to your waiting mouth. Your wet tongue welcomes his heaviness, drooling around his warm cock as he slides lower in your throat.

You can only moan around the thick warmth pressing down on your tongue, gagging as he thrust his hips forward and bottomed out at the back of your throat. His grip on your hair tightens as his pace picks up, the lewd, wet sound of him fucking your mouth filling the large room.

"That's it, baby, fuck, taking my cock so well."

His hungry brown eyes don't break from yours as he bobs your head in time with his hips, saliva leaking from the corners of your mouth, gagging each time he forces the back of your throat open wider to make room for his thick cock. He finally allows himself to moan and the sounds go straight to the tightness between your legs.

"You fucking love this," Toto chuckles, fluttering his eyes shut in pleasure, head tipping back. "You little slut - you're desperate to cum in the lobby where anyone could see you, but as soon as you get a cock in your mouth, you can't think about anything else."

He pulls you off him then, strands of drool still connecting his throbbing length to your red, slick lips. His voice is low and rough when he orders you to stand up. You stay down, trying to catch your breath as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the spit from your face starting to drip onto your chest.

"It wasn't a request, schatz."

He doesn't waste time picking you up by your waist and throwing you onto the bed, making you land uncomfortably on your back with your arms pinned beneath you. He quickly sheds the rest of his clothes before he's on his knees on the floor in front of you, his height still making him loom over you despite the difference with the bed.

"D-daddy" you whimper, struggling against the binds. "Please..."

"Please, what?" he teases, prying your thighs apart to wrap his arms around them, yanking you down the bed even further so your ass is almost hanging off the edge.

"Please...touch me - I'll be good, I promise. "

"I'd make you beg for more, liebling, but right now you look good enough to eat."

Toto's hand snakes up to touch your soaking folds, running a fingertip up and down them, stopping to circle your weeping hole where the base of the pink silicone is sticking out. He gently pulls on it and you let out a soft cry at the feeling of its fullness leaving your weak, overstimulated body. You're finally exposed to him with nowhere to hide.

"God, look at you. Soaking Daddy's fingers like a little slut. I could practically smell your pussy at that table. I wonder if anyone else could, hmm? You think Lewis could smell how wet you get for me, baby?"

"No, Daddy!" you whimper, your bottom lip wobbling.

Suddenly, he swings his hand forward to slap the wet mess between your legs. “I want you to cum for me.” He repeats the action, again and again, getting harsher with each spank. 

He alternates the rough slaps with dips of his fingers inside your tight core. The combination of the movements and the filthy wet sounds of his relentless attack on your cunt quickly push you over the edge, and spasms spread throughout your body. You feel senseless, the relief almost taking you out of your body.

"That's it, squirt for me," he growls, landing another sharp slap on your cunt. "You've already made such a fucking mess on my hands, cum and make some more."

Your vision goes white as your arousal floods out of you, wetting his thick fingers and spreading down to the veins of his muscular forearms. It's seeping into the sheets of the bed beneath you and you know you'll be the one to have to shamefully make the call down to housekeeping to get the bed changed.

You feel the bed dipping with his weight as the world comes flooding back to you. With the edge of your heightened state finally being taken off, your senses can take in more of him now - the smell of his expensive cologne, the softness of his skin, and the weight of his body on top of yours. You're still too weak to move, even when you feel him moving in between your legs, the heat of the head of his cock dragging up and down your soaking folds.

"Been thinking about fucking you all night, love," he murmurs, dipping his head down to fit into the crook of your neck.

You both groan in unison when he finally pushes the tip in. Toto bites your neck at the feeling of his length sinking in, disappearing into you inch by inch.

"You've been so good for Daddy, schatzi," Toto purrs, nipping at the skin of your neck as his hips begin moving. He's stretching you out so good, filling you up to the brim to the point where you can't even speak. "You don't have to do anything except take my cock and let me use your sweet cunt, okay? Just have to let it happen...take whatever I give you."

He fucks into you hard then, pulling your hips up to meet his pumps as a loud squelching and skin slapping fills the room. Your breasts bounce in time with his movements, rocking against the broad expanse of his chest. It's better than what you had been imagining all night as you sat and suffered at that table, in the hallway, in the elevator, and on your knees. You start to whine as you feel that familiar sensation begin to build again when his cock hits that perfect spot inside of you, and he pulls his face away from your neck to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

"Cum on my cock, baby" he murmurs against your lips, pounding into your pussy with unspoken ownership. "Be my good girl, be Daddy's good girl."

You cry into his mouth as you come undone, the walls of your cunt clenching around his thickness.

"That's right, baby, Jesus, you look so beautiful when you cum."

You can tell by the way his hips are stuttering that he won't last much longer, and you wrap your legs around his waist, hooking him in and forcing him deeper inside of you.

"Please cum inside of me, Daddy" you beg, the words tumbling out of your mouth.

He praises you and your cunt endlessly, the words spilling out of his mouth as his thrusts get sloppier and sloppier

"So fucking good, just for me, shit - so fucking tight-"

"Fuck!" he curses one last time before emptying himself inside of you, the pulsations of his cock making you ache in the best way possible. You can feel his spent leaking out of you and onto your inner thighs as he collapses on top of you, your spent breaths and moans mixing together.

His breath is warm on your neck as you both come down from your orgasms. Toto lifts his head when he finally catches his breath, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, looking down at you with a soft smile.

"Was I too mean?" he asks huskily, eyes searching your face for any sign that he had gone too far this time, overstepped a boundary.

"No," you sigh contentedly. "You were perfect. Now, can you please untie me?"