Age Is A Number

Heyyy hope you have a good day, i come bearing new thots

Credit where credit’s due, the idea is an old and deleted roger Taylor fic and not from me.

HOWEVER. Im now obsessed with this scenario with either lando or oscar (ill let you choose <3)

Roommate!AU !!!

Imagine you’re friends and roommates with lando or oscar and he has to study for his upcoming biology exam at uni. The topic? Female reproductive organs🤭

He just genuinely struggles with understanding the anatomy of a vagina and that picture in his damn book is absolutely not recognisable.

And since him and reader are friends and she doesn’t think thoughts all the way through she offers him to look at hers. I mean hes seen her shirtless a million times its nbd.

And staring at her beautiful pussy really does help him - to an extend. Hes so into his studies he doesn’t really process that he asked her „can i touch it??“ and she just goes along with it bc it’s already lowkey awkward and theres no turning back now.

She tries to not make it more awkward by suppressing her moans when his finger brush over her clit all while hes just identifying parts with his thoughts oblivious to what he does to her.

And she cant keep in the moan when he pushes his fingern in and suddenly he realises what hes doing. But he sneakily keeps going until she cums and hes trying his best to keep up the ignorant act bc shes js too hot like that😩

Got damn it i need a full length version of this fic again 😭

-🫀

i want to write a full length version omfg this is incredible!!! pictured oscar immediately. kinda set in like the early 2000s in my head bc i wanted to mention dvd rentals One Time and that's not a thing anymore but that's the world i grew up in LMAO

sorry i like got too into this at first and forgot i made plans to game with my friend and rushed the ending im sorry. added read more bc it's just over 1k <3 i think i like this a lot other than the ending idk . lmk what u think i hope it meets the expectations set by the original

reader thinks oscar's an innocent idiot but he just probably shouldn't be in medical school because while he can find the clit, he certainly doesn't know the name of it.

Her roommate has been staring at the same page for half an hour, they're seated on opposite ends of the couch, leaning against the arms and facing each other. She has a Stephen King novel leaned on her propped up knees and Oscar has an open textbook balanced on one thigh and a notebook open to a blank page on the other. After another frustrated sigh leaves him, she drops her book on the coffee table and leans over to see what he's looking at. She almost laughs when she sees the miniature sketch of a vagina, "You know, the DVD rental place down the street has rated X movies."

Oscar snorts, "I'm trying to work, leave me alone. I'm supposed to learn all the anatomical names of a vagina, but the only drawing I have is in this stupid book."

She leans in further to the diagram and hums, "That's a horrible diagram, no wonder you're getting nothing done. How old is that that textbook?" He shrugs and stretches back over the arm of the couch, "Probably like thirty, the professor wrote it himself and he's ancient."

Her eyes get pulled to his hips as he reaches behind his head and groans, his shirt lifting the slightest to reveal soft skin before he drops his arms back down. She licks her lips as she directs her gaze up to his face, "I could show you mine, if you want." The swift inhale Oscar makes is audible, he keeps his gaze locked on the books in his lap as he says, "Really?" Instead of verbally agreeing, she just scoots back to where she was leaning moments before on the arm of the couch and shimmies her shorts down before she can think twice. She giggles at the look on Oscar's face as she kicks the shorts off her ankles and he takes in the sight of her panties, lacy and red. "Are you sure?"

She shrugs and teases, "Well it's not like they have 3D models. I'm sure, I wouldn't have offered otherwise. Are you sure?" He nods slowly and she tugs her panties down her thighs and smirks at the blush that creeps up his cheeks as she drops them on his lap. She doesn't know where the sudden confidence has come from, but she feels no shame as she opens her legs to him. She drops one foot to the floor and the other lifts to rest on the back of the couch. Oscar holds her eye for a moment before she watches his gaze drift down her body and he starts to lean in before pausing, "Can I get closer?" She nods at his question and answers, "As close as you want." Oscar lurches forwards, knocking the forgotten textbook to the floor as he fumbles to grab his pen and notebook to take notes.

She can't read his chicken scratch handwriting, so whatever he's scrawling about her pussy is undecipherable to her as she watches him analyze her. She's trying not to think about how this could be weird, how it is weird to offer to let your roommate use you as an anatomy dummy. It's not really the first time. He's done other things, like when he needed to practice IVs so she let him give her a banana bag the next time she was hungover. She liked teasing him about it, calling him Doctor Piastri when she let him listen to her heart with his stethoscope. Or when she comes down with a cold and she calls him into her room to diagnose and treat her, and he brings her cold medicine and soup from the deli down the street.

She's pulled out of her thoughts when he clears his throat and she meets his eyes before she hums quizzically. The pink tint that had spattered his cheeks turns into a bright red as he asks, "Can I touch you?"

She almost thinks she didn't hear him correctly, but there's no way he could have said anything else, so she tries to joke, "So you're a hands on learner, then?"

Oscar quickly counters, "Yeah, do you mind?"

It's her turn to lose her breath as she stupidly nods and blushes as she takes in the realization that he's about to touch her pussy. In the name of science, she agrees, "No, go ahead." Then, his hand is on her pussy and his focus is entirely on the space between her legs as he spreads her lips apart and she has to close her eyes and force her mind to other places as he tilts his had interestedly. She wishes she could stop her body from reacting to his touch, but she can't. Not when he pulls back the hood of her clit, she hears him writing something, then there's a soft pressure on her clit and she has to bite the inside of her cheek to not react. She tells herself not to make any sounds so it won't be weird, he's just trying to study, he's not doing anything to her really.

She can feel the wetness build under his fingers as he slips them down to her entrance and back up. She hears Oscar mutter something but she can't make it out over the blood rushing through her head as he presses his fingers back against her clit. "Is this... The labia?" The laugh she lets out is half a moan, "That's the- clit. Labia are the lips." He dips his fingers down and pinches one lightly, "This?"

She's somehow endeared by the curiosity, and sighs, "Yeah. That. Minora. The outer one is majora."

Oscar lets out a little huff, "How do you know the names? You're not even taking anatomy." His fingers find her clit again, this time lightly pinching it, and her thighs tense as he mumbles, "Clit." She hears his pen scratching across his paper and then dips his finger down to her entrance and presses inside. She wonders what he's thinking as he slowly thrusts his finger in and out of her, his other hand still writing on the paper. It's not until he slips a second finger inside of her and curls them as he suddenly presses his thumb to her clit that she breaks her silence, a whimper falling from her lips as the unexpected pleasure hits her. She somehow doesn't realize then that this isn't his first time like she thought when she saw the surprised look on her face. Then she flutters her eyes open and immediately realizes it because he's already looking up at her, a cocky smirk playing on his lips. She gasps, "You- you didn't really need help, did you?"

He shrugs innocently, "I still don't know the names, could you remind me?" She can't tell if he's being serious or not as he quickens his thumb on her clit and she's saved from responding as he pushes up her body and presses his lips to hers hungrily.

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.” 

okay i’m gonna just shove it in ur inbox bc … havent stopped thinking about it but the post u reblogged about the skirt & about being fucked at dinner but w/ mick like …. i Need This

this + mick 🥵 // post

Silverstone has been good to your boyfriend.

His first points.

Everyone at Haas was beyond proud but no one more so than you. You stepped back, letting him bask in the feeling for a while, being congratulated by the whole time, doused in champagne.

Mick found you, picking you up in a bone crushing hug as he kissed all over your face. He finally kissed your lips, sticky and bitter like champagne but you could care less, the happiness trumped all other concerns.

“We have to celebrate tonight.” You tell him, walking him over for his team photo.

“of course we do.”

Mick’s idea of celebrating meant staying at the hotel and fucking every way to next Sunday.

He thought you two were on the same page, hence why he was slightly upset to be sitting in a restaurant with you.

You were making polite conversation with the waitress, telling her a little inside gossip about F1 — harmless stuff, Mick was sure but he had other motives.

His fingers trailed along your bare thigh under the table. Your skirt had slid up when you sat down beside him. The two of you at a booth, sitting side by side. The restaurant was fairly busy, mostly couples and a few families in between.

You ignore his touch, thanking the waitress for something she offered you as you sipped on your wine.

You nearly dropped the glass when Mick’s finger brushed against your clothed clit.

“Mick,” you breathe, glancing at him.

“Yeah darling ?” He asks causally, like his fingers weren’t doing sinful things to you under the table.

Mick pulls your panties to the side, fingers feeling how wet you were. “Hm, you were saying?” He ask you, not doing anything.

“We’re in public-“ you stop when you feel him push two fingers into you.

You bite the inside of your cheek, breathing steadily as he moves his fingers slowly. Your hand wraps around his wrist, he ignores it and keeps doing, curling his fingers upwards until he feels you squeeze around them.

Mick leans into you, whispering; “you gonna cum ? Should I let you?”

You can’t physically bring yourself to answer so you nod.

Mick pulls his fingers away, wiping them on the inside of your thigh as the waitress brings the bill over to the table. He leaves her a big tip, thanking her for being so kind before getting up. His hand reached out for you, and you take it, following him through the back of the restaurant.

You figured you two were going to the car but Mick pulls you into the bathroom, locking the door behind you two.

He’s quick to pick you up, setting you on the counter. You already know what’s about to happen.

Your legs spread, Mick unbuttoning his pants as you watch him. He pulls you further on the counter, his arms holding you in place as he lines himself up with you, pushing into you.

Your head falls back, his name falling from your lips like a prayer.

“Fuck, Mick.” Your hand on his bicep, digging your nails into his arm when he hits the spot.

It’s Kimi Raikkonen’s birthday 🥳

I need a Time Machine and one chance god please 🙏😭😣😩🤭

Polaroid

Summary: Everyone likes a trip down memory lane, right?

Word Count: 1.4K

Warnings: improper use of champagne, graphic sex details

Authors Notes: I’m back loves. Toto is a bit new for me, but I did my absolute best. I’d call this a drabble or perhaps a blurb. It’s mostly just an excuse to get my hands dirty. Enjoy it, fiends. The rest of my work can be found here.

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 (kr7) 𝐱𝐨 ୧˚

★ requested﹕yes/no — summary﹕in which you share chocolate, childhood memories and maybe a few kisses — warnings﹕another shit ton of pure fluff, crying but not necessarily angst, google translated finnish, probably not well proof read, kissing (gagg!!), childhood best friends to lovers, family friends, use of 'y/n,' tell me if there's any i missed!! — pairing﹕kimi raikkonen 7 x reader — w/c﹕ ★ start a/n﹕hihii! second fic with my fav retired driver. i srsly dont see enough fics with him, so i decided to try to write my own. im so busy with schoolwork n i should be doin it rn buuuuuuuut i couldn't get this idea out of my head 🤭🤭 ౨ৎ 𝑫𝑻 (tag list) ;; none yet but open :)

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౨ - 6 yrs old - ৎ

Little Kimi stood over you as you cried on the floor of your bedroom after you hurt your hand from drawing.

"Y/n?" Kimi crossed his arms.

You sniffle, trying to stop the tears. "..yes, Kimi?"

"Do you like Kit Kats?" You nod in answer, a little confused as to why he might be asking that.

Kimi takes out something from his pocket. "Have a Kit Kat." He takes off the wrapper, breaking the Kit Kat in half. He offers one Kit Kat piece to you. You hesitate before taking the Kit Kat, giving it a small bite.

Kimi sits in front of you in a criss-cross, placing his Kit Kat on the wrapper that layed on the floor next to him. He takes your hurt hand, giving it a little kiss. You wipe your tears with a smile.

"Better?" Kimi asks, a little softer in tone this time.

"Better." You nod, smiling widely. Kimi gives you a small smile, taking a bite of his Kit Kat.

౨ - 11 yrs old - ৎ

You watched from the sofa as Kimi walked into the pantry after a long day of karting. He came out with an unwrapped Kit Kat in his hand.

"Hi, Kimi-Kat." You say, going back to watching the TV.

Kimi tilts his head at you, visibly confused, his eyebrows furrowed. "'Kimi-Kat,' huh?" He asks curiously, in his usual monotone voice.

"Your favourite chocolate, Kit Kat + Kimi = Kimi-Kat!" You giggle from your seat.

You couldn't see it, but Kimi smiled. "Only you're allowed to call me that, then."

౨ - 22 yrs old - ৎ

Kimi throws off his racing suit as he enters your room, shutting the door behind him. You look up from your book as you sat on your bed.

"Bad race?" You ask softly, patting the seat next to you. Kimi flops down next to you.

"Yeah." He mumbled in response, looking at the ceiling as he layed on the bed.

You take something from your snack stash, taking the wrapper and cracking the chocolate in half. "Have a Kit Kat."

Kimi looks at you, then the chocolate in your hand. He gives you a small smile.

"What?" You look at him curiously, the Kit Kat pieces still held out in your hand. "I'll take both pieces if you don't want it. You always give me Kit Kats when I have a bad day. I should return the favour."

Kimi's small smile turns into a grin. He doesn't say anything, but he takes one Kit Kat piece and bites it. You smile at him, placing a bookmark in your book and putting it on your bedside table.

"Better?" You ask softly.

"Mm." He responds, finishing his Kit Kat.

You raise your eyebrows. "What's that supposed to mean, Kimi-Kat?"

"I'm better. Ish." He shrugs.

"Kimiiii, what can I do to make it better?" You furrow your eyebrows, pushing some of his hair so you can see his face.

"A kiss."

A kiss?

You can't help but blush.

"Does the look on your face mean I can't get a kiss and my day can't get better?" Kimi smirks at you.

"Asshole. C'mere, Kimi-Kat." You wrap your arms around his neck, your lips meeting in a gentle manner.

Kimi grins against your lips, placing his arms around your waist as he let's you tackle him.

His tongue slides in, both of you tasting the sweet chocolate on eachothers lips.

A few moments later, you pull apart, looking into eachothers eyes. "I love you as much as I love Kit Kats." You giggle.

"I love you as much as anything." Kimi responds with a happy sigh.

chocolate love ; fin.

☆ end a/n﹕working on a better cover for fics once im free of school work! have a good day/night, angels <3

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notes, comments, reblogs, feedback and follows are greatly appriciated!

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Teacher's Pet

Summary: It's your first time being a TA, but you're pretty sure some of the areas your professor needs help with are not in the job description. 

Pairing: professor Toto Wolff x TA fem!reader

W/C: 3.1k

Rating: +18, age gap, dom/sub, exhibitionism, creampie, oral sex, praise kink, aftercare

A/N: Filth. Pure filth. Absolute filth. As always on my smut - YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME. 

Masterlist | List of tags

By this time in the year, you knew the students' habits and schedule well enough to know what you did and didn't have time to do between lectures. Sometimes you had enough time to go the library to do research for your dissertation, sometimes just enough to barely make a fresh cup of tea, and sometimes - like right now - you had enough time to get absolutely railed by the professor you were under - both literally and figuratively.

You were sure that by now there had to be at least some rumors, but none reached your ears. Although there was no way that there were none, considering all the times the door to his classroom or office was magically closed when you were there together (mechanical failure of course, it was an old building after all). And if on top of that, you added the smudges in the exact shade of your lipstick ending up on few papers he graded, the fact that (at least in your mind) the scent of sex clung to you all the time, and all the hickeys and bitemarks taking deeper color over the course of a single lecture, meaning that they were fresh... There was just no way no one connected the dots yet. But officially, you were never caught, and with every time you got away with it, you got even more brazen.

That's why today he waited just a little bit longer to grab your wrist, turn you around and push your face into the pile of papers because the thrill of finishing closer to the start of the next class was too enticing. He quickly pulled down the panties you were wearing, let them fall to the floor, and threw the hem of your sundress over your waist, so he could see everything. Without saying a word, he placed a soft kiss on your left ass cheek, a complete contrast to what he was about to do. He run two fingers in between your folds, while his other hand was unbuttoning his pants and freeing the already hard cock. Both of you were expecting this to happen since the day started, you just weren't sure exactly when it would happen. So, every time your eyes crossed, every time you accidentally touched each other, every time you said each other’s names, it was almost like edging, but on a completely different and surreal level.

Sure, he could prepare you more, but he knew you loved that moment when the burn disappeared and suddenly there was only pleasure consuming your body, that's why he run his cock between your folds just enough to lubricate himself and slammed all the way in one swift move. You didn't have time to mentally prepare yourself for the familiar sensation, even though it was seared in your brain forever by now. He didn't wait at all before setting a brutal pace and pushing your hips into the edge of the desk, while you tried to hold onto the crumbs of balance you had left in your body, so you wouldn’t become a ragdoll in his hands.

His fingers were painfully digging into the skin on your hips and pulling you deeper onto his cock with every push, causing your whole body to jolt across the desk and making an absolute mess of the exams the previous group finished taking about 15 minutes ago, but that was the last think on your mind. He knew your body like the back of his hand by now, which came useful in moments like this because he knew exactly what he needed to do, to make you cum as fast as possible; when to thrust, what pace you enjoyed the most, what angles made your toes curl, and he was making use of it all, trying to force a whole goddamn opera of moans from your throat. And if not the fact, that you could already hear the students gathering in front of the door, you would have let him. But instead, you reached back for one of his hands and moved it to your mouth to at least try to muffle the whines you weren't able to stop.

What you weren't expecting was him putting more pressure and pulling you closer by your head, so you were standing up, flush against his torso, with his hips still hammering against yours, the material of his trousers and your dress preventing loud slapping from completely filling up the room. He moved the hand that was still on your hip to the neckline of your sundress and pulled it down, freeing your breasts. He gave each of them a squeeze, which made you throw your head back and rest it on his shoulder. With just your nose to breathe through, you were slowly getting a little lightheaded, so when he rolled your nipple in between his fingers and squeezed it tightly, your eyes almost instantly rolled back. You were so close, yet so far, but the hum of a small crowd gathering outside made it harder for you to lose yourself in the sensation of... him. Him inside you, him surrounding you... He was everywhere, haunting every atom of your body and your every thought, and you were helpless against the power he held over you.

- Either you're cumming in the next 10 seconds, or you're not cumming at all. - he whispered straight into your ear, just as there was a sound of a bell coming from down the hall. You lowkey expected him to start counting down, but he just added - I know what I'm choosing... - after which he sunk his teeth into the place where your neck met your shoulder, and that was the missing puzzle piece that finally completed a full picture of you falling apart in his arms. But you didn't get to enjoy that feeling for long, because he quickly pulled out after finishing deep inside you, pulled up his trousers, and put your panties that were currently on the floor in his pocket, while you were still trying to catch a breath, leaning on the desk in front of you.

With your walls spasming and clenching around nothing, you didn't even realize when he forcefully guided you to your usual seat in the first row, sat you down, and pulled the neckline of your sundress back up to hide your breasts behind the patterned material. Before he moved away, he placed one last hungry kiss on your lips and wiped the smudged lipstick from around your mouth. You should really consider stopping wearing it because it was leaving marks everywhere...

At first, you didn't even register the other students slowly filling up the room after Toto opened the door for them because your mind was still frozen in that moment of blinding pleasure. Even though your body was no longer uncontrollably twitching, your breath was still quick and shallow, your cheeks were flushed, and you were sure anyone who looked at you would be able to tell that you just got absolutely railed, but you underestimated under-slept and under-caffeinated students, who worried more about their grades and exams, than the insignificant TA.

Only about ten minutes into the lecture, your brain started comprehending reality once again, and what brought it back was a quiet question from one of the students you became friendly with over the last eight months.

- Sorry, could you repeat that...? - you whispered after quietly clearing your throat.

- Is everything ok...? - she asked. You couldn't tell her the truth, so instead you gave her a confusing look. - You look a little bit sick... Maybe you should take a day off or something? - she proposed, and you prayed for the floor under you to open up and swallow you whole. She meant well though.

- I'm fine... I just can't handle this heat well. - you lied, hoping that your words would be enough to convince her because the almost-summer temperatures were abysmal lately.

- Do you want some water? I have iced one... - she offered and the look of relief on your face told her more than your words because she bent down and took a thermal bottle covered in stickers from her bag and passed it to you. - You can keep it till the end of the lecture. - she added quietly and went back to making notes.

- Thank you... - you replied, opened the bottle, and took a big sip. It was colder than you expected, but it was your savior, allowing you to calm your body once again. You took smaller sips over the next few minutes, but then you just had to look at Toto, and you almost choked seeing how he looked at you. You didn't, but a little bit of water still dripped from the corner of your mouth, and down your cleavage summoning goosebumps over your skin.

He stopped mid-sentence for a moment, his eyes drilling into yours, but he quickly regained his composure and continued the lecture. You couldn't comprehend how he could look this put together after fucking you so hard, his giant, heavy desk was currently on a slight angle. Not a hair out of place, not a wrinkle on his shirt, not a stain on his crotch. And then you felt it...

You were no longer wearing underwear. And he came inside you. It's not like it was the first time he did, but he never did that in the middle of the day, when there was no chance of plugging you or for you to clean up. You clenched up, trying your best not to let any of it leak out and stain first your dress, and eventually the chair under you. The panic and fear of finally being caught slowly coiled around your thoughts, but when you looked at him again... You realized that was exactly what he planned. He took his phone out of his pocket, and you just knew that the phone call he was taking was a complete and utter sham.

- I apologize, I have to take this. Y/n, could you please introduce the group to the concept of homo economicus...? - he asked, moving the microphone away from his mouth, his face all worried. He should get an Oscar for that performance. And you would have to work hard on yours because currently, your mouth was drier than sandpaper. You quickly nodded, took a sip from the bottle, and stood up, while Toto was leaving the room.

It took all your self-control to keep your voice leveled and steady when gravity was actively working against you while you were speaking on a fortunately familiar topic. You tried to move as little as possible, but you couldn't just stand there motionless, trying to will a large drop of cum from sliding down your thigh, with your mind.

Eventually, it did slip out of you, and you had to make a quick decision, so you started walking around the slightly raised podium, rubbing your thighs together as much as possible and smearing your mixed release all over your skin, just so it wouldn't fall below the hem of your sundress or just straight onto the carpeted floor. The sensation wasn't exactly pleasant, but it was much better than the potential humiliation you would have to face if someone realized what happened. You just hoped that if any of that panic showed in your body language or on your face, the students would assume it was because you were stressing about speaking in front of them.

But finally, Toto came back to the room. He didn't take over straight away, though; he let you finish your thought first, while he attentively watched your every move under the pretense of listening to your words. When you ended your short lecture, he apologized again, and you could finally sit back down, and pray that the heat you felt on your face didn't translate to the redness on your cheeks. You took another sip of water, eternally grateful to the girl who gave it to you, because it was the only thing currently keeping you from bursting into flames. After a very long moment, you were finally able to focus on the stack of exams you were supposed to be grading, and you did just that until the lecture ended. You gave back the bottle to the student and sat still where you were until the last person left the room.

- You're evil... - you mumbled much quieter than you originally intended, and Toto just smiled and walked closer to you.

- And yet, you loved every second of it. - he leaned down to kiss you, and you couldn't even pretend that you were mad at him, because he was absolutely right. Without breaking the kiss, he turned your chair, so he would be able to kneel in front of you, spread your knees, and roll your dress up, so he had free access to your thighs and what was in between them.

- The door... - you said quietly, and he just grinned, pushed your chair a bit further, and followed, so his whole body was hidden by the bench in front.

- No more lectures. And if someone will come for a consult... I trust you will be able to handle it. - he said and placed a gentle kiss on the inside of your knee, and another one a little bit higher. When he got to the mess of his own doing, he dragged his tongue across your skin, cleaning the stickiness that didn't dry out only because you kept your thighs closed since you sat down.

He was slowly getting higher and higher, licking every marked patch of skin, making sure, there was no more cum on your thighs, and leaving the pleasant coldness behind. But then he moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down in the chair, so he would have easier access to your pussy.

- Relax... - he whispered almost directly against your skin and licked the outside of your folds. You didn't have any other choice than to just lean back and enjoy what was happening. You were already turned on, but this... this was different. The intimacy of his actions made you feel all soft and warm, and you slowly run your fingers through his hair, causing him to look up. You wanted to say something, but you couldn't find the right words with his tongue slowly circling your clit and finding its way to your opening from time to time. The mere look of him kneeling in front of you was intoxicating, and the fact that he was slowly summoning another wave of pleasure to wash over you was only adding to the all-consuming intensity you felt toward him.

He didn't stop until he felt your walls clenching around his tongue, and even then, he didn't retreat right away, prolonging that searing pleasure you felt all around your body. Even though your orgasm was less intense than the one he gave you during the break, your legs still felt as if they were made from cotton. You had to grab him strongly by his hair and pull him away from your core, for him to actually stop and let your body process what he just did to it.

You were physically and mentally exhausted, and if not for the fact that you were still in the classroom, you would probably just fall asleep, because the emotional drop that suddenly came over you was strong.

- I need a break... - you whispered, with your fist still clenched around his hair, and it was the only part of your body that had even a sliver of strength left in it. He gently traced his fingers down your forearm to your fingers and untangled them from his hair...

- Come here... - he said quietly and pulled you down from the chair straight onto his lap, changing the positions, so he would be able to sit on the floor with his legs straightened, and you on top of them. - You were perfect today... - he whispered, pulling you closer and wrapping his arms around you, and you couldn't help but hide your face in his shirt in search of familiar comfort. Sure, you two could do absolutely blasphemous things together, but in the end, he was able to take care of you in any way you needed. And after the whole day of sitting and walking on needles, you needed... this. - Absolutely divine... - he added quietly, placed a soft kiss on your temple, and kept his lips there. He allowed you to process everything that happened today at your own pace, so your brain could slowly catch up with reality and you could feel like yourself in your body again.

It took you a moment, but he was there to praise you and guide you through that path.

- You're staying with me tonight. And I'm cooking... - he stated, when you were finally able to look at him again, and you knew that disagreeing now would be a bad idea, so you just sheepishly nodded and let him help you up. - Words are still a bit hard...? - you needed a moment to think about the answer, and eventually, you nodded again, but there was no shame or fear behind your eyes.

Technically today wasn't even a hard session, but the sub-drop didn't choose, and all the emotions you were exposed to eventually had to spill over. First denial and anticipation, which already gave him control over you, then the physical overpowering when you weren't able to do anything but submit... And after that, there was fear and humiliation during the lecture, and in the and - he chose to take even more pleasure from your body, and it just became... too much.

You talked extensively about your boundaries, needs, and expectations as soon as you both realized that you wanted to pursue this type of dynamic, so you knew that if you truly wanted to stop, that option was always available. With time he learned you well enough to know what you could and couldn't endure at the moment, just by looking at you, which was both a blessing and a curse because he could push your boundaries further from your comfort zone than you thought possible. And yet, you knew that one word or gesture, and he would immediately stop. You couldn't get that trust, that feeling of safety from anyone or anything else. That's why you welcomed his arms around you; you knew that even though you couldn't find your voice at the moment, he would still be able to hear it. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

daddy issues - toto wolff

pairing: toto wolff x horner!reader

warnings: relatively vague and mild spice

summary: maybe asking for “daddy” to pass the salt while at dinner with both your father and boyfriend wasn’t the best idea

Dinner. The word rings in your ears as you fix the final adjustments to your dress. There's a palpable sense of tension in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife. The dinner is with none other than Christian Horner, your father, and your boyfriend, Toto Wolff. A high-stakes encounter as is only fitting for those at the helm of Formula 1.

The chauffeur pulls up at your childhood home, the butterflies residing in your stomach growing more frantic. You take a deep breath, straighten your dress and step out of the car, feeling the gravel crunch beneath your high-heeled shoes.

Your father greets you at the door, a jovial smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He’s cordial as he guides you inside to the dining room where Toto is already seated. You take your place beside him while your father seats himself across the table.

The first few minutes pass with superficial chatter about weather and trivial matters. It’s an unspoken agreement to not bring up work and motorsports.

As the main course is served, you reach out for the salt shaker. “Please pass the salt, Daddy,” you say, momentarily forgetting your company.

Two hands reach out simultaneously, one from your left, the other from across the table. A silent beat hangs in the air, Christian’s hand freezing midway, his eyes flickering between your face and Toto’s smug grin.

“I believe she was talking to me, Christian,” Toto says smoothly, his hand closing over yours as he passes the salt shaker. The tension amplifies, the hum of an engine before a race, the calm before the storm.

Your father’s face turns several very unflattering shades of red, his grip tightening on his wine glass. “I see,” he says in barely more than a growl.

“What exactly do you see?” Toto asks, his voice laced with underlying challenge.

“I see that you’re taking advantage of my daughter. Just like you’ve taken advantage of every opportunity in your life!”

“Opportunities are not taken, they’re earned,” Toto retorts, gaze steely. You feel your heart beat loudly in your chest.

“You don’t earn someone’s daughter, Wolff!”

The words hang in the air, a declaration of war. A war between two fathers, two titans of the track.

“And yet here we are,” Toto’s voice is cool, his hand interlacing with yours under the table.

There’s a knock at the door, breaking the tension. “Excuse me,” your father says, standing up and leaving the room.

You look at Toto, noticing how his eyes sparkle with mischief. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you whisper.

He shrugs, a small smile dancing on his lips. “I like challenges. And I believe I’ve just been presented with one.”

“I can’t believe you,” you say, shaking your head, but there’s a smile on your face. It’s a game to Toto and that’s what makes it exciting. The thrill of competition, the high of winning. It’s what drew you to him in the first place.

Your father returns, his demeanor changed. There’s a strained smile on his face, one you’ve seen before. It’s a sign of defeat. A sign of surrender.

“I think it’s time for dessert,” he says, signaling the waitstaff to clear the table.

The rest of the dinner goes smoothly. Dessert is served and eaten in relative silence, the conversation restricted to shallow topics. Toto’s hand, however, doesn’t leave yours.

As you say your goodbyes, you turn to your father. “I love him, Dad,” you say, voice steady. “I need you to accept that.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I may not like it, but I can’t control who you love. Just … promise me you’ll be careful.”

You smile at him, a small reassurance. “I will. I promise.”

And with that, you leave the house, Toto’s arm securely wrapped around your waist. The night may not have been perfect but it was a start. It was the beginning of a new race, and just like every race Toto has ever been a part of, he’s determined to win. And so are you.

The ride home is a silent one, the car gliding smoothly over the asphalt. You rest your head on Toto’s shoulder, his fingers tracing circles on the back of your hand. His heart beats steadily under your ear, a calming rhythm amidst the chaos.

Once you reach your shared home, Toto guides you inside, his hand still never leaving yours. The house is quiet, the only sound being your mutual heartbeats and the soft rustling of clothes. Toto’s eyes are intense, filled with a heat that has nothing to do with the summer night outside.

He leans in to kiss you, his lips warm and inviting. “I must say,” he murmurs between kisses, “I quite enjoyed tonight’s dinner.”

You laugh, your fingers tangling in his hair. “Of course you did. You love drama.”

His eyes sparkle in the dim light, crinkling from a smirk that never fails to make a smile break out across your own face. “Only when it’s with you,” he replies before sweeping you off your feet.

Giggling, you wrap your arms around his neck, holding him close. His laughter rings in your ears, a sweet sound that makes your heart flutter.

He takes you to the bedroom, laying you down gently on the bed. His hands are warm and confident, leaving trails of fire wherever they touch. His lips meet yours again, the kiss searing and passionate.

As he pulls away, your heart hammers in your chest, anticipation thrumming in your veins. You look at him, his eyes dark with desire, his breath mingling with yours. “Please,” you whisper, your hand reaching for him, “Daddy.”

The word seems to ignite something within him, his eyes flashing with a primal hunger. A satisfied smirk plays on his lips as he moves to kiss you again, his hands exploring your body with renewed vigor.

His reaction to your whispered plea sends a shiver down your spine. His eyes gleam with an intoxicating mix of triumph and desire. You watch him with a sense of wonderment, realizing this powerful man is entirely yours.

The taste of his lips becomes a craving, your fingers tracing a familiar path down his neck. He matches your pace, his experienced hands inciting a fire within you that only he can quench.

“Daddy,” you say again, your voice echoing in the quiet room. The word takes on a new meaning when it comes from your lips — not one of familial connection but of power, control, and raw unadulterated passion.

His hands on your body are firm yet gentle, commanding yet tender. “Are you sure?” he asks, his gaze filled with concern.

With a nod, you assure him of your trust. This man, who stands tall on the racetracks, is also the one who holds you with utmost care in the darkness of the night.

Together, you explore new heights of passion and pleasure, every sigh and gasp just adding to the bond you share. The rest of the world fades into oblivion as Toto stakes his claim. It’s an intimacy you wouldn’t trade for anything else.

When dawn breaks, he’s there with you — a steadfast presence reminding you of the promise that was made and fulfilled. And in the quiet whispers of the early morning, you realize that this is exactly where you want to be. Not because he is Toto Wolff, the team principal and CEO and billionaire businessman, but because he is simply your Daddy — your lover, your confidant, and your partner. And as the morning sun paints the sky with shades of gold, you wouldn’t want it any other way.

throat training thoughts tonight. ♡︎ fictional man forcing his fat cock down your throat until your little nose is in his pubes and he’s taking up every single one of your senses.

You asked for blurb ideas & that thought here got stuck in my mind since this morning 🌞

Tennis Reader “thanking” Art after their training session in the locker rooms. ;)

Reader sneaks in men’s locker room after training together till evening, surprising (Stanford) Art under the shower + asking for some steamy extra cardio. 👀

And eventually Patrick walks in. Idk abt that but whatever you write is amazing, in every trope 🫶🏻

Rating: E (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (hj, fingering, p in v), throuple dynamics (+1)

A/N: Ok I’m sorry I know you said Stanford but 2019 era Art is ALLLL I can think about 🩷 forgive me for my transgressions pls

Tashi had set the whole thing up, holding his hand through it. Because Tashi and Patrick were off globetrotting for the tour— France, if he remembered correctly. Tashi just wanted to make sure he was taken care of, that his needs were being met. In his career… and otherwise.

You were a player out of… USC? He thought that sounded right. Recently graduated, doing well in the pros, already highly ranked with an excellent record. The perfect first player for Art Donaldson to coach.

She set up the entire thing, met with you to get things organized, and penciled training into his calendar with a tiny note.

Have fun without us -T

You were doing such a good job, even unwittingly— putting on the sweetest little show for him. When you’d miss a serve or a ball went out of bounds, you’d do a peppy little jog then bend over to grab it, completely unaware of the effect it might have had on him.

“I need to see how you play,” he had said as you dropped your bag on the side of the court. You smiled and nodded, and took to the opposite side of the net.

He beat you embarrassingly easily the first set. Sweat was beading on your forehead as you met him at the benches between courts and guzzled down water. When you finally came up for air, a little trail of water went from your plush bottom lip and down your chin.

He watched you lick the moisture from your lips, then wipe at the rest with the back of your hand. He swallowed hard.

“Do you want my advice?” He scratched at the back of his neck as you peered up at him expectantly. “You need to loosen up, you’re too tense.”

Your eyes widened at his direction, but you nodded. “Yeah, okay, Mr. Donaldson.” You drank down another gulp, then jogged back to the other side of the court, eager to please.

He watched you bend over, retrieving a couple of balls that you’d hit into the net, flashing tiny white spandex beneath your tennis skirt.

Jesus Christ, Tashi was evil.

By the afternoon, sweat dripped down your arms, along the line of your throat, dampened the baby hairs framing your face and the back of your neck, tacking them down to sticky skin.

“Why don’t we head to the locker rooms inside, then we can meet upstairs and go through a training plan.”

You smiled, looking so sweet and eager. “Okay.”

He was grateful for the shower— molten against aching, underused muscles. He hadn’t exactly just given up on everything after retiring, but his muscles weren’t being used the way they were used to— the constant strenuous training.

He closed his eyes, letting the spray hit his face and soak into his skin.

He heard a squeak and jumped, eyes flying open to the sight of you naked underneath one of the other shower heads, quickly adjusting the spray from ice cold to steaming hot.

“Turned it to cold on accident,” you said over your shoulder. “Women’s locker rooms are under maintenance. You don’t mind, right?”

He turned, cheeks burning pink as he tried his best to play it cool— act like he wasn’t checking you out. “No, uh, it’s fine.”

Were you in on it with Tashi? It certainly felt like it as he watched you lathering your body up with soap, maybe focusing too much attention to your tits.

You glanced over, caught him looking, and smiled. He turned away quickly with his pulse thrumming in his throat.

Fuck. He was already hard. It wasn’t exactly a surprise— he’d been half-hard just at the sight of you in that fucking outfit on the court.

He heard you laugh and looked back at you. You were looking right at him, amusement evident in your expression. “She said you’d be easy, but, Jesus, I thought you’d put up more of a fight.” 

You shut off the water of your shower and made your way over. Water dripped from your body, rolling down your skin in delicate rivulets. You stopped in front of him and ran a hand down his chest, making him shiver.

“Tashi told you?” His words trailed off into a groan as your hands moved between his legs, stroking the length of him in your delicate grasp.

“She told me to say thank you after every lesson,” you said. With each step forward you made, he took a step back, until you had him pinned against the cold tile. He moaned as your thumb ran over the tip of his cock, and you smile sweetly. “She showed me exactly how I should do it.”

“Showed you?”

You sped your hand up, twisting slightly with each tug upwards. “Mhmm. On Patrick. She went first, then I showed her what I learned.” You laughed softly, lips brushing along his jaw. “I’m a very fast learner. Patrick was very impressed.”

Fuck, he was going to get back at Tashi for not letting him be there for that. The mental image was enough to make his cock pulse in your grip. Maybe he’d just have you recreate it for him the second Tashi and Patrick came home.

Your lips brushed along the like of his jaw as you continued to jerk him off, your hand slick and tight and relentless. Just like Tashi’s would be. God, you really were a fast learner.

It would certainly make being your coach a lot easier.

“Art,” you hummed, breath hot against his ear. He nodded wordlessly, almost afraid that if he spoke, he’d wake up from a fugue state to find out that he’d just imagined it all and was mid-jerk off session.

Your lips moved against his throat, nipping gently at the expanse of soft skin. He tasted like sweat and tap water. Your words came out as a whisper, “You can fuck me now.”

He laughed shakily, flushed red down to his chest. “Now? You don’t want me to go down on you, or—“

He was cut off when you grabbed his hand and moved it between your legs. Dripping wet, silky soft, absolutely aching for him.

You moaned softly, leaning fully onto him for support as he rubbed at your clit. “T-Tashi—“ You stammered, losing that seductive bravado you’d walked in with. “Told me I should make you work for it. But, fuck—”

Art laughed softly. “You’re too needy.”

“Do you know how fucking sexy you sound when you play tennis?” You whined, breath going shaky as he pushed a finger inside of your aching cunt. “Halfway through the second set, I— god— I considered dropping the pretense and fucking you right on the— on the court.”

Tashi wouldn’t have that. When she came home, she’d clock that impatience train it out of you. She’d make you sit and watch, get so desperate you’d beg and cry for it. She had to do it to Patrick before— she would know just how to get you to the point she needed you at.

The tennis would be up to Art.

You were so wet, clenching around his finger, craving more. What the fuck would be the point in denying either of you any longer?

You whined when he moved his hand from you, but he wasn’t going to keep you waiting. He pinned you against the cold tile wall, lifting you up to where he needed. You smiled at him,wrapping your legs around his waist, coaxing him closer.

A shiver ran through you as his cock brushed over your folds— so close to where you needed him. His tip notched against your entrance and he pressed into you slowly, relishing in the way you held your breath, in the way your body opened up for him so eagerly.

He pressed his forehead against yours when he bottomed out, and you panted as you adjusted to him.

You were impatient. So fucking impatient. You rocked your hips against him, begging wordlessly for more. He leaned in, kissing you slowly.

“Art,” you gasped, pulling away from the kiss as he fucked into you, slow and deep. “Patrick told me that I should tell you that you’re supposed to fuck me, not make love to me.”

Of fucking course he did. “Is that what you want?”

You nodded, somehow looking so sweet split open on his cock. His hips met yours in a particularly harsh thrust and you cried out in surprise. You moaned so seeetly, your lips turned up in a smug grin. It was exactly what you wanted.

Your back slid against the slick tile wall as he drove into you again and again and again. Your cunt was so warm, and tight, and so fucking wet if squelched obscenely with each thrust.

Wet kisses were peppered along his jaw and throat along with soft murmured thank yous and praise.

“You’re so deep, Art,” you moaned into his ear. “Feels so good. Thank you, thank you.”

It had been a week since Tashi and Patrick were home. A week of having to find satisfaction with Patrick’s fucking lewd Snapchat videos and his hand.

And here you were— a sweet, tight, Tashi-approved plaything. Your manicured nails rubbing at your clit, your pussy clamping around his cock as you drew closer and closer to the edge.

What better foreplay was there than tennis?

You came first, which was a fucking Godsend. He had no doubt Tashi would’ve flayed him if she found out that he couldn’t even manage to get his new toy off before he did. Loud— not caring if anyone heard.

Tashi would train that out of you too, lest you get them banned from every fucking country club in the state. Or a TMZ article whispering about a tawdry affair.

He shut you up with a hungry, searing kiss. Tongue moving against yours, muffling your cries. He came buried as deep as he could possibly get, with his tongue shoved down your throat and his grip bruising your soft thighs.

The water had gone icy when you both detached from each other, finally taking the actual shower you needed. You happily shared a shower head since you’d wasted enough water as is.

You redressed, tied up your wet hair, and sat on a bench, tapping away at your phone while he did his best to look presentable, and not like he’d just fucked the athlete he was supposed to be coaching.

“Tashi and Patrick say hi,” you said casually, offering a killer smile.

Maybe retirement wasn’t that bad.

NEED to be the toxic triplets’ little plaything im clawing at the padded walls of my enclosure

Anywayssss feel free to send more blurb reqs 🩷