Pedri’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through his phone with a grin that can only mean trouble.
You lean over the back of the sofa, towel still wrapped around your wet hair.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing,” he says way too fast. His thumb flicks across the screen. “Just posted a picture.”
You narrow your eyes. “Pedri. What picture?”
He turns the screen toward you, all innocent. It’s a photo of his breakfast spread , pancakes, orange juice, and two mugs of coffee.
Your mug. The pink one with the little chipped heart.
“Pedri!” you gasp. “That’s mine! People will notice!”
He shrugs, utterly unbothered. “So? Maybe I just drink two coffees now. I’m a growing boy.”
You groan and toss your towel at him. “You’re impossible. You promised we’d keep things private.”
He catches the towel mid-air, smirking. “Private, yes. Secret, no. There’s a difference.”
“There’s not a difference when your fans have CSI-level detective skills,” you retort, grabbing your phone. “Wait,oh my god. They’re already talking about it.”
You scroll through Twitter , or, as Pedri calls it, the battlefield.
@pedrilover97: “two mugs?? who’s he having breakfast with 😭😭😭”
@barcagirlx: “that’s definitely a GIRL mug. I recognize the nail polish color from his story last week 👀”
@footballtea: “he’s SOFT LAUNCHING someone I just know it.”
Pedri’s grin widens. “#PedriSoftLaunch? That’s actually a great tag.”
“Don’t encourage them!” you say, swatting his arm.
He leans back, smug and far too calm for someone who’s just sent half the internet into a frenzy. “You have to admit, it’s funny.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Maybe,” he says, biting back a smile. “A little.”
That evening, you find him on the balcony, wearing one of his Barça hoodies and scrolling through fan edits of his own posts.
“They made a whole thread analyzing your kitchen tiles,” you say, holding up your phone.
He laughs. “My kitchen tiles?”
You nod gravely. “Someone zoomed in and matched them to a photo you took last summer. They know everything, Pedri.”
“That’s impressive, actually.” He scrolls again, face glowing from the screen. “Wait,this one says you’re secretly a chef. I like that one.”
“I’m a psychology major, not Gordon Ramsay!”
“Eh,” he says, waving you off. “Close enough. You’ve psychoanalyzed me while I eat your cooking. That’s balance.”
You cross your arms. “You’re impossible.”
Pedri looks up, grin softening. “But you love me.”
You sigh, fighting the smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately.”
He laughs, leaning in to kiss your temple. “Come here, mystery girl.”
The next day, the soft-launching gets worse.
You wake up to another Pedri post , a blurry mirror selfie of him in the hallway. Your reflection is barely visible behind him, holding your phone.
“PEDRI!” you yell from the kitchen.
He yells back, “What? I blurred it!”
You storm into the room, waving your phone. “I can still see my silhouette!”
He peers at the screen. “That could be anyone.”
“It’s me! I’m literally wearing your hoodie!”
He grins, completely unrepentant. “Good. Now they’ll think I have great taste.”
You throw a pillow at his head. “Stop being cute when I’m trying to be mad at you!”
He catches it, laughing. “Sorry, amor. Can’t help it.”
You flop down beside him with a dramatic sigh. “You’re going to break the internet at this rate.”
“That’s fine,” he says, sliding an arm around your shoulders. “As long as they don’t find you.”
You snort. “They already have a spreadsheet of possible candidates. I saw someone saying I’m a makeup artist from Madrid.”
Pedri grins. “Well, you do my eyebrows sometimes.”
“That doesn’t count!”
He shrugs, pulling you closer. “I like keeping them guessing.”
By midweek, the fandom’s gone feral.
People are analyzing his playlists, your nail polish, the background furniture , even the way his smile looks “happier lately.”
You both spend the evening doomscrolling and laughing on the couch.
“Listen to this one,” you say between giggles. “‘The mystery girl has small hands based on reflection physics, probably around 5’3”’.”
Pedri laughs so hard he nearly drops his phone. “Reflection physics? No way.”
“Oh, there’s more. Another one says you’ve been soft-launching for seven months based on the presence of a second toothbrush in your bathroom.”
He wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “They’re not wrong, though.”
You blink at him. “Wait, are you admitting it?”
He shrugs. “What can I say? I like having my girl’s toothbrush next to mine.”
You groan. “Stop being sweet when I’m trying to yell at you!”
He grins, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “Can’t help it.”
But things take a turn when you make a mistake.
It’s late , you’re curled up on the couch in Pedri’s jersey, watching highlights from the last match. You post a quick Instagram story: your legs on the couch, the TV showing Pedri’s goal, and his hoodie draped on the armrest. You don’t even think about it.
Thirty seconds later, your phone explodes.
DMs. Mentions. Notifications.
@barcafangirl: “THE JERSEY. THAT’S PEDRI’S JERSEY. SAME NUMBER. SAME ROOM.”
@pedrilover97: “the couch matches his last pic 😭😭😭”
@footballtea: “SHE SLIPPED. SHE POSTED. CONFIRMED.”
“Oh. My. God.” you whisper, watching it all unfold. “I just soft launched myself.”
Pedri walks in from the kitchen, bowl of cereal in hand. “What happened?”
You look up at him, horrified. “I think I just… hard-launched our relationship.”
He sets the bowl down, eyes widening. “You what?”
“Look!” you shove the phone at him. “They found me! It’s everywhere already!”
Pedri scrolls through the chaos, then bursts out laughing. “You lasted longer than I thought, cariño.”
“This isn’t funny!”
He grins, utterly calm. “It’s kind of funny.”
“Pedri!”
“Okay, okay,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “What do you want to do?”
You bury your face in your hands. “Delete everything. Move to Antarctica. Change my name.”
He chuckles, tugging your hands away gently. “Or… we could just post a photo.”
You blink. “A real one?”
He nods, smiling softly. “Might as well. You look too pretty to hide.”
Your heart stutters. “You’re serious?”
“Completely.” He scrolls to the camera app, flips it to selfie mode, and pulls you close. “Come here, mystery girl.”
You laugh, cheeks warm, leaning into him. “You’re going to cause chaos.”
“Good chaos,” he says, snapping the photo , both of you smiling, cozy and unfiltered.
Within minutes, he posts it.
Caption: No more soft launch 💙.
Your phone explodes instantly. Comments flood in.
@barcagirlx: “I KNEW IT! SHE’S SO PRETTY 😭”
@footballtea: “soft launch era is over 🫶”
@pedrilover97: “they look so happy together 🥹”
You read a few aloud and glance at Pedri, who’s scrolling too.
He looks up, eyes warm and shining. “See? Not so bad.”
You smile. “You’re right.”
He grins. “I usually am.”
You roll your eyes, nudging him playfully. “Don’t push it.”
He laughs, pulling you closer until your head rests on his shoulder. “For the record,” he murmurs, “I liked the soft launch. But I like this better.”
You look up at him, smiling softly. “Yeah. Me too.”
He tilts his head, lips brushing your forehead. “Told you. Private, not secret.”
You chuckle, closing your eyes. “Whatever you say, influencer.”
He laughs quietly. “Only if you’re my favorite post.”
Summary: You decided to prank your boyfriend and see how he would react to you leaving late at night.
A/N: Prank inspired by @chriskeverian on TikTok. My Request Are Open. Please Follow, Like, And Reblog.
Lamine Yamal -
Lamine was half asleep on the couch when he heard your bedroom door open. At first he didn’t pay attention but then he looked up. And immediately sat straight up. You were fully dressed with your hair and makeup done. And in a cute outfit with a matching purse. You looked like a goddess but then he checked the time seeing it just struck midnight.
“…Amor where are you going?” You looked at your phone casually. “Oh, I’m going out.” “Out?” “Yeah.” Lamine checked the clock again and seeing its 12:03 AM. His brain visibly stopped working.
“OUT WHERE?” You shrugged. “Just meeting someone.” The silence was deafening. “Someone?”“Yeah.” Lamine immediately stood up. “Who is this someone?” You bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing.
His eyes narrowed then he spotted your phone recording. “…You’re annoying sometimes.” You burst out laughing hugging Lamine as he wrapped his arms around you. “I almost had a heart attack.”
Pedri -
You called out to Pedri from the bathroom saying you were about to head out. Pedri looked up from his book then looked at you. And he looked at the clock and back at you.
“Why are you dressed like that?” You smiled innocently.“I told you I’m going out.” “Now?” “Yep.” Pedri blinked.“It’s midnight.” “I know.” “Well are you meeting anyone or are you going to be alone?” You pretended to think. “Hm.” Pedri immediately closed his book.
“Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Don’t ‘hm’ me.” You laughed and his suspicion grew. “You’re filming this.”You failed to hide your smile and Pedri sighed.
“I knew it.” Then he grabbed your hand and pulled you onto the couch. “Sit down.”
Gavi -
The moment Gavi saw you he froze. You looked absolutely amazing which was the problem because it was midnight.
“Where are you going?” “Out.” “No.” “No?” “No.” You stared and stared right back at you. Which was hard because you tried not to laugh.
Gavi pointed toward the window. “Do you not see how dark it is outside?” “Yes.” “Then why are you dressed like that?” You immediately lost it and Gavi groaned.
“You’re pranking me.” “Maybe.” “I knew it.” He absolutely did not.
Joao Félix -
Joao was scrolling through his phone when you walked into the room. His jaw dropped as you stood infront of looking gorgeous. Then his brain processed the time and he saw it was 12:01 AM.
“Meu bem?” “Yeah?” “Where are you going?” You picked up your purse. “Out.” Joao frowned.
“With who?” “A friend.” “A friend?” “Yes.” He just stared at you while you put on your heels. Then João stood up.
“No.” You laughed. “What do you mean no?” “I mean no.” “You can’t tell me no.” “I can when it’s midnight and you’re looking like that.”
You couldn’t even finish the prank because you were laughing too hard. Let’s just say Joao just dragged you into bed with him.
Richard Ríos -
Richard looked genuinely confused. He wasn’t angry or jealous just simply confused.
“Did I forget something?” “What?” “A party?” “No.” “A birthday?” “No mi amor.” You laughed a bit. He looked at your outfit then at the clock.
“Then why are you dressed like that?” “I’m going out.”“Oh.” A pause. “Wait.” You started laughing. “You’re setting me up.” “How?” “There’s no way this is real.”And he was absolutely correct.
Kylian Mbappe -
Kylian immediately noticed the second you walked downstairs. “Princesse.” You smiled. “What?” “You look beautiful.” “Awe thank you.”
Then he looked at the clock. And he could see it was 12:07 AM. The compliments now disappearing from his mind.
“Where are you going?” “Out.” His eyes narrowed.“Out?.” “Yes.” “At midnight?” “Yes.” “Without me?”
You nodded and Kylian stood up. “No.” You burst out laughing. “No because now I know this is a prank.”“How?” “Because if you were actually going somewhere, I’d already know.”
And is Kylian wrong here? No, no he is not.
Virgil van Dijk -
Virgil was too calm it was suspicious. He was lying down on the bed as you walked onto the room. You were fully dressed and ready to go.
“Hey.” Virgil looked up. “Hi.” “I’m heading out.” “Okay.”You froze. “Okay?” “Yeah.” You blinked. “You’re not gonna ask where?” “No.” “What if it’s dangerous?”“You’ll tell me if it’s dangerous.”
You just stared at him laying down eyes still on the tv. The prank was failing miserably then Virgil smiled. “You’ve been standing there waiting for me to react for thirty seconds.” He laughed at your surprised reaction.
“I got you.” As he laughed pulling you into bed with him.
Memo Ochoa -
Memo looked up from the kitchen with his coffee nearly hitting the floor.
“Wow.” You smiled. “Wow?” “You look beautiful.” You grinned as you picked up your purse.
“I’m heading out.” Memo checked the clock then checked it again. Because he was believing you were leaving at 12:04 AM.
“…No you’re not.” You almost laughed. “Yes I am.” “No.”“Why not?” “Because it’s midnight.” “So?” Memo crossed his arms. “So where are you going?”
“Out.” “With who?” “A friend.” Memo immediately looked offended. “A friend gets to see you looking like that at midnight and I don’t?” You burst out laughing and the realization hit him.
His eyes narrowed. “You really scared me.” “Got you.”Memo shook his head while laughing. Then pulled you into a hug.
“For the record, you do look very cute.” “Thank you.” “But if you ever do that again, I’m checking your purse first.” You laughed so hard you nearly dropped your phone.
This month, in my country, there's a challenge among men to not masturbate/have sex for a month. Do you think the drivers would participate, or Dean Huijsen? If so, would they win?
the one month challenge
pairing: some selected f1 drivers/footballers x gf!fem!reader
summary: what the request says really ._. // headcanons
warnings: 18+ (minors dni), unprotected and protected sex, p in v, eating out, blowjob, masturbation, mention of toys, themes of possessiveness, light degradation | barely proof read <3
a/n: oooh this is exciting! love a quick drabble since i'm notorious for waffling. i'm so curious what country this is from!!! anyways, hope you like it ♡︎ if anyone wants a part two with other people lmk.
🏎️ masterlist | ⚽️ masterlist
oscar piastri
honestly he's not that into it initially. he couldn't give a damn because it's not about his pride or ego. the man just wants to feel good and make you feel good. why would he want to stop that? but then you start with the teasing.
"i think you're saying no because you're afraid you'll lose, osc."
he looks at you blankly. "what?" i'm not afraid i'll lose... i just think it's stupid."
"then why don't you prove it?" you raised a brow.
that sets him off. so he tries and he tells you to be fair. to not tease him. but you're only just innocently eating an iceblock. and it's only fair to walk around in nothing but his shirt because it's laundry day. now oscar's struggling. he thinks about just jerking off while your asleep. but now you've hurt his pride a bit. and he knows you won't let him hear the end of it if he loses. so he goes through with it. he wins. plain and fair. and with a lot of pain. and you wake up the next morning getting absolutely pounded.
"look at you," oscar huffs, hands on your hips, gripping you tightly as his thrusts from behind. the sounds of your skin slapping are obscene. "could've been fucked like this all month but no," he muttered, grunts falling from his lips at the speed of light.
you fist your bedsheets tightly, knuckles white, whimpers matching the pace of his cock drilling into you. your skin flushed, hot, and bothered. "fuck, osc," you moaned, eyes shut. "ngh– feels so good!"
"just had to be a brat about it. didn't you?" oscar growls, brown eyes rolling at the way his cock disappears into your pussy. fuck, he wasn't going to say it. you would definitely tease him afterwards. but he missed being inside you.
does the challenge once. never again. absolutely not.
lando norris
literally has to pause when you ask him about the challenge. like his ego has to process what you're saying. and he's looking at you like... "pff yeah i can do that. easy."
if only his ego hadn't spoken before his brain.
you haven't even done anything. no provoking. no teasing. its business as usual. (you're pretty sure he would've lost on the first day if you did.) but the abscence of your intimate touch has him reeling. because he's only halfway through the damn month and you cuddling him while watching your favourite movie has him hard as shit.
it's only three days later, where you're dressing up to go out to dinner and lando comes out of the bathroom, stopping in his tracks when he sees you in that goddamn dress. his favourite. his favourite waist hugging, breast clinging, backless dress. fuck.
you hadn't even made it to dinner. you were on his lap, dress riding up your body, staring at the both of you through the mirror in your bedroom. and he's fucking up into you, trousers half undone, buttons of his shirt loose. sweat covering you two from head to toe.
"i was doing so well," lando moans, moving your hips up and down onto his cock, one hand wrapping around your stomach, pressing you closer into him. "but you just had to wear that dress, didn't you?"
"i felt you on the couch that night. y-you probably would've fucked me while watching superman," you retort, teeth biting your lips as you feel his tongue wipe down the side of your neck, low hums flowing out of his throat.
lando chuckles darkly. "yeah i would've," he admits, hips snapping faster, cock dragging deeper and deeper into your cunt. the way you were clenching around him... christ. "let me show you how much i missed you, doll."
that dinner wasn't made even hours later. by the end it, you were both sitting in the kitchen, naked and next to each other, munching on some fries and ice cream.
lando would try every year just to see if he could improve his time.
isack hadjar
he's actually the one who brings it up to you. on a whim. he saw it on some tiktok. and he doesn't understand why you're laughing.
"isa, amour," you breathe quietly, calming yourself down, "listen, i love you... but you won't win."
isack looks at you blankly. like you had just told him he had grown two heads. "w-what?" he shifts on the couch, sitting up all serious and firm. "why not?"
you press your lips together, trying not to laugh at the small whine in his tone. you clear your throat, hooking one leg over his waist and then the other. you can feel his body tense underneath you, already proving your point. "you can't go a second without touching me let alone fucking me. we just went two rounds yesterday."
isack swallows at the sight of your pretty lashes blinking at him as you lean in, lips grazing over his. he blinks, pushing you away gently. "i'll win. you'll see."
and much to your surprise, he does.
you probably should've known better to challenge him. he always had such a big ego. because the next morning, you're on the bed, legs wide open with isack's head between them.
you're sweating. and not just because of how hot you feel. "isa, i-i can't," you breathe, body torn between pulling away from his tongue on your clit and staying.
"another," isack moans, voice muffled between your cunt. your back arches at the feel of his tongue gliding down your folds, prodding at your gaping hole.
"y-you said that four rounds ago," you moaned, hand darting to to grab those beautiful dark curls. you gasp when his nose collides with your clit, tongue lapping up every single drop of you.
the ghost of his smirk is embedded onto your pussy. "i'm trying to make up thirty days here."
he won. so he'll never do it again. but he will always brag about it.
kimi antonelli
wouldn't do it. absolutely not. and it's not a matter of pride or anything. he just knows he couldn't last. he's not experienced enough to hold out on you either. he loves spending those intimate moments with you. and banning it for a month would simply make him go crazy. besides... why would he deprive the both of you?
yeah no. he couldn't do it.
"aren't you so happy so you didn't do it?" you query, legs on either side of him, straddling his lap while you rode him.
kimi nods numbly, eyes fixated on the way your breasts hung in front of him. just so delicious!
you sigh at the feel of his mouth wrap around your nipple, tongue swirling around in small, brief circles, teeth grazing and nipping at the ample flesh surrounding it.
you were right though. he was happy. because fuck, the way you were riding him, walls all pressed around his cock, gripping him so good, so warm... all he could think was, "thank fuck i didn't do it."
his hands fly to your waist when you start picking up the pace. he moans, head falling back into the pillows, squirming at the deep grind on his cock. "fuck, baby, i'm gonna come."
you hum, feeling the blooming heat unfurl in your lower stomach. "yeah? you gonna come, pretty boy?" you coo, nails grazing his lower abdomen, sending shivers up his body.
"yes, yes, yes, yes," he moaned, fingers tightening into your flesh, eyes shut as a long whine falls from his lips, body stilling as his cum spills into the condom.
dean huijsen
he's cocky and young. he thinks he can do it. scratch that. he knows he can do it. for him, it is about the pride. you weren't the one who even proposed the idea. it was his stupid brothers, much to your disappointment.
all of them had decided to bet on who would last the longest. winner gets an all expenses paid holiday. dean wants to win, of course. he tries to convince you when you complain about it.
"cariño, it's just a month. and then we can make love all day wherever you want to in the world, hmm?" he hums, hugging you, batting those sleepy blue eyes at you.
"or... you could do that whenever you want to. literally," you retort back, brows raised, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you put.
dean swears to god he almost folded right there and then. but no. he was going win.
and he was so serious about it. keenly keeping his hands on you, careful to not linger for too long. yes... this was it. he was going to win.
unless, of course, he were to lose a day before he could've won...
dean's jaw is wide open, hand tightening around your hair curled around his fist as you let your throat accomodate his large length down the tight path.
his eyes roll at the sound of your gag and the sight of his cock creating a small bulge in your throat. oh jesus...
you pulled back up, breathing hard, grinning smugly as your lips graze over the side of his cock, tongue lingering over the vein on the underside. "regret losing?"
dean looks down at you, cheeks flushed, pupils blown. "shut up," he huffs, groaning when your lips stretched over his cock again. "oh my god," he cried out, hips jerking up. twenty nine days of nothing had him so sensitive.
you only chuckle around his cock, humming to send small vibrations. your scalp slightly burns at his grip but god, it doesn't help with the wetness between your legs.
you weren't sure about it but if you had to guess, he was pretty happy to lose. even if his brothers teased him afterwards. he would try again next year only to fail within two weeks.
pedri
to everyone's pedri is a sweet guy. and he is. but you've also never met someone more competitive than pedri. it's just a fact. so when you say that he can't last more than two weeks, his feelings are lowkey pretty hurt.
he takes that challenge with open arms. the first week passes and pedri's thinking, "this is easy." he walks around the house a cocky smile.
it only drops when you shrug. "i can still get myself off."
truth be told, pedri hadn't thought of that. so he's definitely not caught off guard when he comes back home from practice and the small crack of your door leaves him watching you finger yourself. he has to literally turn around and do breathing exercises and think of something horrifying to stop the blood rushing to his cock. it's a lot easier said than done when all he can hear are your moans in the air.
he survives another week. somewhat. he reminds himself what this was about. he needs to win this. to help him, he tries to make peace with the fact you're getting yourself off with your fingers. fine. of course. that's only natural considering he can't pleasure you himself for the time being.
pedri only knows he's walking on thin ice when your usual shower together turns into you teasing him. standing in front of him, warm water pelting off your skin. his brown eyes glued to the way your hands travel down your stomach and push into your cunt.
he swallows thickly. "s-seriously?"
"what? you can't lose from just this," you teased, voice soft and light as you moan his name. you can see his cock twitch, making you grin.
pedri closes his eyes, taking in a sharp breath. it's okay. all he needs to do is win.
but he loses. he can take you pleasuring yourself. but he absolutely cannot stand for the use of the godforsaken dildo you stored at the back of your drawer. the same one he banned you from using because, "why use that when you have a real one right here?"
"don't ever do that shit again," pedri huffs, body hovering over you, your heels digging into his back as he slams his cock into you, rutting his hips at an obscene pace. "you hear me, cariño?" he murmurs.
but you can't. your heart is thrumming, blood rushing. your skin burning with need. this is so much better than that dildo. "fóllame," you beg, hands travelling to his forearms, tightly gripping his skin.
"i am fucking you," he grunts, snapping his hips faster, cheeks flushed with at pretty pink you loved so much.
"shit!" you moan.
refuses to do it again because he's embarrassed af. proceeds to say, however, that he would've won if you didn't tease him.
alejandro balde
dubious. kinda weirded out by the idea. like why in earth would you do this? but he also thinks it could be fun. he always like a challenge. kinda laments on the fact that he doesn't get to touch you but you said you'd reward him if he wins.
so obviously he tries his very best.
the second week was actually worse than the first. initially, he didn't really realise anything was happening. walking around you and with you like he wasn't doing the challenge. he was so busy with training and recovering...
but then you came to training. he didn't notice at first. not until all the younger team members started complimenting you. maybe he was having withdrawals or something. maybe he was crazy. but you looked prettier than normal. with the sun shining over you, skin radiating, pretty wide eyes only staring at him.
and now everyone was telling you how pretty you were except for him. and that kind of pissed him off.
that why you were here, in the empty locker rooms, getting your brains fucked out by alejandro, being reminded of you who belonged to.
the locker room shower is cold as it runs over you. but you can't tell. your moans and whimpers and alejandro's grunts are covered up by the pelting water. his hands on either side of you, flat and pressed on the tiled walls as he fucks up into you, teeth grazing your bare breast.
"never doing that again," he moans out against your chest, pulling away to admire your flushed expression and the way the water sticks to your hair and skin. "never realised how much i missed this."
your hands rake over his bare back, nails digging into his skin while you moan in his ear. "ale– ugh, fuck," you drawl out, gasping for air.
alejandro smiles, placing his lips onto yours. "gonna come for me, princess?" he teases, one hand moving from the tile to find your clit, rubbing in short, firm circles.
"shitshitshit," you cry out, body writhing under him, coil in your lower stomach beginning to unravel.
"come on. let go, cariño," he murmurs against your lips.
you only see white stars, body shuddering as waves of pleasure roll over you. you pick up your slack jaw, catching your breath, still feeling his cock thrusting in your cunt, making you whimper. you nod finally. "never again," you agree.
being a girl includes staying up till 3AM bc it’s already past your bedtime to read more “x readers” because you know you’re going to miss your alarm anyway.
ft. michael olise, désiré doué, pedri gonzalez, pablo gavi, jamal musiala, fermin lopez, bradley barcola, and ur favs!
mdni. smut.
his hands gripped your hips tightly, pulling you back onto him with every thrust. without thinking, he slid one hand up your spine, fingers catching the hem of your top. he lifted it higher, exposing more of your skin, wanting to feel more of you under his palm.
he slowed his movements almost instantly, eyes locking onto the small sparkling dermal piercing sitting right on your lower back, just above the curve of your ass. the jewel caught the dim light with every shallow breath you took.
“fuck… what’s this?” he murmured, voice rough and surprised, still buried deep inside you. his thumb brushed gently around the fresh piercing, careful not to press too hard, tracing the little dimple where it sat.
“you got a dermal here? right on your lower back?”
“you don't like it?”
he didn’t answer. instead, he pushed in deeper, hips rolling slowly as he kept staring at the new jewel.
