I love retro F1 sm and when I saw Rush I was trying to identify all the drivers in the background. And then I really put in the effort and did so much research on trying to identify the drivers lol bc I love them sm. So here are the drivers from the 1976 grid that I spotted so far! If I missed any or you think I got someone wrong, don't hesitate to tell me!
I tried so hard lmao it got a bit inconsistent later on bc drivers back then would change their overalls halfway through their season lol.
Drivers featured are: Tom Pyrce, Jody Scheckter, Clay Regazzoni, Carlos Pace, Emerson Fittipaldi, Patrick Depailler, Graham Hill, Jochen Mass, John Watson, Jacques Laffite, Gunnar Nilsson, Carlos Reutemann, Guy Edwards, Michel Leclere, Ronnie Peterson, Bob Evans, Harald Ertl, Chris Amon, Hans-Joachim Stuck, Arturo Merzario, Jean Pierre Jarier,
this is my mega masterlist, where you’ll find every single thing I’ve written, divided by character, and then sub-divided by type of work, ship, request or an idea born of my fucked-up brain...you get the idea.
NO ONE HAS PERMISSION TO COPY AND/OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS ON THIS SITE OR ANY OTHER SITE.
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@adcuficrec is no longer updating/active, but has a great list of adcu fandom writers, fic recommendation lists, and more! they also have a list of writers of color in the ADCU community, which is linked HERE!
BIPOC post/guide, linked HERE, by @clydesducktape
**as of 8/6/21: I will, from now on, be blocking any empty, inactive, or just generally suspicious-looking (to my judgement) blogs. it’s nothing personal, it’s just for my own personal feelings of safety here on my page.**
my general taglist peeps! @safarigirlsp @babbushka @mrs-zimmerman @dirtytissuebox @thepalaceofmelanie @einmal-im-traum @charliesahottie @gotham-city-uber-driver @gildedstarlight @cbloodmarch @voteforpedro09 @ohsolonelyghosts @astrae03 @liliroseruby @as4pmadi @slytheriin2002
*all of my fics involve a female reader character.*
Thank you to the ever lovely @quiteanabyss for suggesting this idea for horrorfest, and also to @leatherboundbirate for helping bounce some ideas back and forth for character development in the planning stages of this fic. ♡
Chapter Two | Chapter Three
Warnings: Character Death, Blood, Violence, Murder, Stabbing, Knives, Toxic Relationship Dynamics, Slasher Fic
Word Count: 2,382
As always, you can find this over on AO3.
Nightfall has descended on a nondescript Midwest town, blanketing it in darkness. Phillip plops down heavily onto the cream colored sofa with an audible sigh, the popcorn in the ceramic bowl that he holds jostling with the movement. Though the lights remain on in the kitchen one room over, the living room is bathed only in the blue light of the television that now displays the opening credits of Halloween, which Phillip has chosen as his first of many movies for the evening.
He’s seen this movie half a dozen times, but each time is just as good as the first. It is, he’s said many times to friends and family alike, a favorite of his. There are moments where he recites lines and moments where he laughs through mouthfuls of popcorn, and though he would very much deny it to anyone that asks, there are times where he jumps—still taken aback even after having seen the film so many times. By the time Laurie runs into the hall following the discovery of Lynda and Bob, the bowl of popcorn seated in Phillip’s lap has all but vanished. Only a few pieces remain, and just as he reaches into the bowl to retrieve them whilst Michael stalks after Laurie, a loud, shrill ringing fills the space eliciting a jump of surprise followed by a string of curses.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he cries out, hand darting out on instinct and snatching up the cell phone that sits beside him on the couch.
UNKNOWN, the caller ID reads.
Phillip presses the side button on the phone to silent the incessant ringing, but continues to stare down at the screen as the call illuminates the immediate space around him. His thumb moves to hover over the ‘Answer Call’ option that has long since appeared on the screen, with half a mind to do so. But thinking better of it, he ignores the incoming call and sets the phone beside him once again before returning his attention to the movie.
Thirty seconds passes and then—
Ring! Ring! Ring! Ring!
With an irritated huff, eyes still settled on the television screen, Phillip reaches for his phone once more. His gaze lands on the screen a second time, discovering that yet again it is an unknown caller reaching out to him. He glances to the time, 10:17 PM, and scowls down at the screen. Like many others, he’d been known to receive the annoying spam call time and time again, but never has he received one at this time of night. This time, rather than ignoring the call, he answers, fully intending on shutting down what he is to assume will be the umpteenth call he’s received about his car’s warranty this week.
“Hello,” he asks as Laurie screams in the background on the television.
Static crackles on the line momentarily, and when Phillip opens his mouth to give his greeting a second time, a voice emerges from the other end of the line. “Oh, I’m sorry,” they say abruptly. “I think I’ve dialed the wrong number.”
Phillip huffs a laugh, eyes returning to the screen in front of him when he replies. “No worries, it happens. Take it easy.” He doesn’t wait for a reply as he pulls the phone from his ear and ends the call without so much as looking at the screen, once again discarding the device on the cushion beside him.
He isn’t sure how much time passes when his phone rings again, but it feels as if it has only been a few seconds. With an irritated groan, he leans forward and sets the now empty bowl of popcorn onto the coffee table before retrieving the phone for a third time tonight. “Hello,” he greets, the frustration evident in his voice.
“Hello, Phillip.” The voice on the other end of the line is gravelly and tinny, but familiar to the very same person who’d just called, claiming to have had the wrong number mere moments ago.
Phillip’s eyes widen slightly and pulling the phone from his ear briefly, he checks the screen once more. UNKNOWN it reads. Like all the other times before. “Who is this,” he asks, rising up from his spot on the couch and forgetting entirely about the movie that is now in its final act.
“Me? Oh, who I am isn’t important. But you do know me, I’ll give you that much. Do you like trivia, Philli—”
The voice at the other end of the line cuts off when Phillip hangs up abruptly, unwilling to play into whatever game this individual has in mind. It’s nearly Halloween, after all, and he knows the neighborhood kids aren’t above playing some stupid pranks just to get a laugh. Sadly for them, he thinks to himself as he reaches for the empty popcorn bowl, they’ll have to get their kicks elsewhere.
Slipping his phone into his back pocket, he carries the dirtied bowl from the living room to the kitchen in order to deposit it into the sink. Just as the ceramic bowl clatters against the stainless steel sink, the familiar ringtone sounds once more. Phillip emits a groan of displeasure and retrieves the device from where it is stored.
“Didn’t your mother ever tell you that it’s rude to hang up on someone,” asks the voice from the other end of the line.
“What’s rude is you wasting my time in the middle of a Halloween marathon.” The sound of rushing water fills the space as he turns on the tap to fill up the dirtied bowl, stopping only once it’s reached the top.
A low hum of acknowledgement sounds from the opposite end of the line. “A horror movie fan. As fate would have it, I’ve got quite the game for you.”
Phillip’s brows crease and when he turns away from the sink, he begins to stride with purpose back into the darkened living room. “I don’t have time for your games, I’m busy.”
“Don’t you hang up the godda—”
With the phone now lowered, Phillip presses the red circle that flashes up on the screen to successfully end the call a second time. It’s immediate this time, how his screen flashes with a new call. He ignores it only to receive another and another and another until finally, he finds his hand forced and he answers.
“Look,” he starts, only to be immediately silenced by the caller.
“No, you look, Phillip. Don’t you fucking hang up on me again or I’ll fucking gut you, do you understand?”
A beat of static fills the line following the rhetorical question and when Phillip remains quiet, the voice on the other end speaks up yet again.
“Now, I want to play a game. For every question that you get right, you win the right to live but for every one you get wrong…” Trailing off briefly, a chuckle can be heard along with a puff of air that brings more static to the line. “You’re a horror fanatic aren’t you, Phillip? So you shouldn’t be worried about getting these wrong.”
A chill sweeps along Phillip’s spine, his eyes staring unfocused on the screen as Halloween continues to play out on the screen.
“Let’s begin with an easy one, hm? What’s your favorite scary movie?”
Phillip’s gaze sweeps away from the television screen to where the windows of the living room give way to a darkened back yard. “That’s not trivia,” he replies matter-of-factly.
“You have two seconds to answer the question. Favorite. Scary. Movie.”
“Halloween,” he says almost instantaneously.
“Good. So you should have no trouble at all answering my first question. What movie can be seen depicted on screen when Tommy and Laurie are together?”
Phillip takes a moment, glances back at the screen and does his best to recall the movie. From the other end of the line, the stranger begins a rhythmic ‘tik, tik, tik, tik’ as if to urge him on.
“The Thing From Another World,” Phillip spouts off as the memory comes careening to the forefront of his mind.
“Very good, but not surprising. Next question. Which film kills someone off by forcing them to eat too much?”
Phillip’s mouth opens and closes, his brows creasing as if attempting to recall the information being asked. Upstairs a floorboard creaks, pulling his attention upward to gaze at the stark white ceiling.
“Se7en,” he says hesitantly whilst slowly backpedaling out of the living room to make his way into the hallway.
“Bingo. Let’s make this a little harder, shall we?”
His steps come to a halt when Phillip finally reaches the staircase. Unlike downstairs where the kitchen lights remain on to illuminate the space rather brightly, upstairs is dark and devoid of anything other than blackness. Slowly, Phillip reaches to his left and flicks on the foyer light, revealing nothing at the top of the steps.
“What was Freddy Krueger’s serial killer name before he died?”
“What?!” He’s only half paying attention now, his focus divided by the creak of the floorboard upstairs and the strange caller. “He didn’t have one.”
Behind him, in an adjacent room, the sound of fabric rustling can be heard, causing Phillip to whirl around in order to investigate. As he storms towards the source of the noise, he’s met only with the sound of a breathy chuckle from the other end of the line.
“I’m afraid that’s incorrect, Philly!”
“What? No it isn’t,” he insists, flicking on light after light as he goes room to room, determined to prove to himself that he is indeed alone.
“Yes, it is. Before Freddy died he was known as the Springwood Slasher. Sorry, but that’s strike one.”
“Strike one? What the fuck does that mea—” Before he’s able to finish the demand for clarification, the lights overhead cut off completely, plunging the home into darkness. “Hey! Hey! What the fuck, man!”
“Phillip. Oh, Philly,” says the voice on the phone in a sing-song tone. “Listen up, you’re going to want to pay attention. This is your final chance at redemption, you got that?”
“Last chance?!” Stretching a hand out into the darkness, Phillip fumbles along the nearby wall in an attempt at bringing himself back to the living room. His heart hammers wildly in his chest, his mind racing a mile a minute; his only thought is to reach the flashlight that’s stored in the space for power outages. If he can just reach that then he can get the hell out of here. “What happened to strikes two and three?”
“The rules are arbitrary, Phillip. This is your last chance, so you better pick your answer carefully. Are you ready?” The stranger on the line doesn’t give Phillip a moment to answer, but instead carries on with their tortuous game. “What war is Grace waiting for her husband to return from in The Others?”
Another creak of a floorboard can be heard, and he’s certain that it’s closer now, perhaps even at the landing of the stairs. Phillip hurries, bumping into furniture and sliding along the wall at a quickened pace, determined more than ever to reach the flashlight.
“Tik tok, Philly. I’m going to need that answer soon.”
“Fuck. Fuck,” Phillip mumbles to himself in between labored breaths. “Uh,” he starts in an attempt to stall now, having finally found his way into the living room. “Well, it can’t be the Cold War, that would’ve been way too late…”
“Don’t fuck around with me! I’ll cut this game of ours short and trust me when I say that you don’t want that!”
“Fuck! Fine! World War One! It was World War One!”
Just as Phillip reaches for the flashlight, snatching it from its spot on the end table, yet another rustling of fabric can be heard. Hastily, he flicks the switch to turn on the light and aims the flashlight in the direction of the sound. The beam of light lands on a black mass just as it disappears into another room, the sight causing Phillip’s heart to leap at the realization that he is not home alone after all. For a moment, the house descends into silence, and all Phillip can hear is the crackling of static through the phone that is still pressed against his ear.
When the stranger speaks next, Phillip swears that he can hear the sadistic grin they undoubtedly wear, and a sense of unease plummets straight to the depths of his stomach.
The unmistakable sound of heavy boots clunk against the wooden stairs as the stranger makes a hurried descent from the second floor. Only then does Phillip’s flight or fight mode kick in, and choosing the former, he makes a mad dash to the back door as the sound of footsteps nears at a rapid pace. The phone tumbles freely from his hand, dropping to the floor with an audible thud.
Shaky fingers fumble with the lock on the door, the light of the flashlight wobbling to reflect off of the wall and ceiling until finally, he manages to pull open the door. He makes his escape out onto the back patio, turning a harsh left with the intention of rounding the house to run towards the road that lies parallel to the home but as he turns the corner he is stopped abruptly by a sharp pain in his abdomen.
The flashlight that he holds turns to aim the light at his torso, illuminating the glinting steel of a blade that protrudes from his stomach. He looks up with shock, now redirecting the light to the masked face of his would-be killer. The knife digs in a little deeper and the flashlight falls to the ground just before Phillip joins it, his head bouncing off of the cold, hard dirt with a sickening crack. In his final moments, he stares up at his killer who now removes the ghostly mask, blood dripping from the blade in their hand and a sadistic grin to match, Phillip’s eyes widen at the realization at just who is behind this night of terror.
There is disbelief among the pain and the fear, but as his vision begins to fade, giving way to the blackness, he realizes that he’ll never understand why him, why tonight, simply...why.
Hello, friends! I've decided to try and take some fall-themed requests!
I've recently sustained an injury to my arm, which has been making writing difficult for me lately, but I also really want to write some seasonal fics! I need to practice writing shorter prompts. So I will be trying to stick to drabbles and ficlets (<1000 words).
I know, I know, I know, I'm the worst at responding to requests and I'm sorry, y'all! 😭 I'm hoping that with shorter word count expectations (from myself) that I'll be able to get these out, though.
So if you have any spooky or kinky requests for any of the guys, hit up my Sinbox! I have linked some prompt lists below if you would rather use those. The characters that I will write for are also below the cut. SMUT OPTIONAL! Just let me know if you have a preference.
Idk how long it will take me to write them, but I'll be taking these fall requests until probably October 1 with the hopes of having content to post from now until Halloween.
Thanks for sticking around this long! I appreciate you all so much.
“Date Night Disasters” with our darling Ronnie Peterson? 🥺 ps I ADORE YOU CONGRATS!! 🍾
Oh gosh, thank you so much my darling Z ❤️ I ADORE YOU!
I hope you enjoy this humble, little story with our favorite Star Wars -nerd and all-around cutie Ronnie 🥺
Date Night Disasters
Ronnie Peterson x gn!reader
Word count 1k
Warnings: One punch in the nose. Mention of a fire.
A/N: What could go wrong on a first date?
”Do you have any good date night disaster stories?”
You ask absentmindedly as you flip through your phone, chuckling a little as the tweet thread you were reading comes to its epic conclusion. The man beside you startles from his comic book and turns to look at you with wide eyes.
“What? Why would you… What even are date night disasters?” His deep baritone is even, though after years of knowing one another, you can tell Ronnie is flustered and a little confused.
You turn your screen towards him and let him scroll to the top of the thread. “It’s a thing now, people sharing their most outrageous dating disasters. Some of them are quite funny, look, this one includes an elephant, a water leak, and mismatched Converse shoes!” Your laughter fills the air as you show him the tweet and Ronnie gives out a dry chuckle.
“Why would people share these on the internet though?” He muses as he hands you back the phone after a few minutes of scrolling. You shrug.
“Who knows? Maybe they just want to belong, share a fun story behind the anonymity of an avatar.”
You place your phone on the coffee table and turn on the couch so that your knees touch. Ronnie looks down in surprise but remains silent. The touch does send a pleasant tingle down his spine and he enjoys the warmth spreading through his body at the connection.
”Come on, you must have a good story or two, Ronnie! You always do!” You bat your eyelashes at him, making over-exaggerated facial movements to make him laugh. It works and a booming voice joins you.
Once you calm down, Ronnie takes off his glasses to wipe them with a cloth from his pocket. You wait calmly, knowing that he is weighing your request.
“Well, uh…I guess there is one. But, you have to promise me you won’t laugh.” He doesn’t look at you when he speaks, the tips of his ears already turning red as they are visible from under his dark mane.
“Now why would I do that? Isn't that the point?” There’s a twinkle in your eyes, eager to hear it now that he’s decided to indulge you. You love Ronnie’s stories, his voice so soothing and calm as he speaks and you’ve been silently hoping he might be open to doing some ASMR one day. Just the idea of having that man’s deep rumble in your ear makes you shiver with anticipation.
“I’m not telling if you don’t promise,” He huffs.
“Fine. Fine!” You lift your hands up in mock surrender. “I solemnly swear that I will not laugh at your dating disaster story.”
It’s another few moments of silence, his chocolate eyes searching for any sign of deception within your face. Finding none, he finally starts to tell his story, the smooth tone of his voice filling the room.
“I had waited for so long to take this utterly captivating person on a date. I had pumped myself up for weeks, trying to figure out all the possible pick-up lines to use to sound as smooth as possible.”
”When I finally stuttered out my question, feeling embarrassed and sure that I was going to get rejected, they agreed and asked if I wanted to go out the next night. The original trilogy was showing at the movie theater, a special night of some kind. Of course I agreed, elated that not only did I succeed somehow but they were interested in Star Wars also. I got there early, queued for tickets, and then,” He takes a dramatic pause and grinned in your direction. “My breath was taken away when my date arrived, dazzling me and rendering me speechless.”
He remembers the feeling still, how he’d had to clench his jaw tight so it wouldn’t drop. The smell of popcorn in the air and laughter as people walked by him as he tried to get his grip on himself. The light scent of perfume in his nose as his date kissed him on the cheek and the joy he’d felt when he registered the happy smile and sparkling eyes.
“Hmm, it does sound like a good date so far. Can’t see where it goes wrong.”
“Oh, it will. So we took our snacks and found our seats and waited for the first movie to start when someone in the theater decided to light a smoke. Blew up huge smoke rings everywhere and, being an officer of the law, I felt the need to intervene. We had words, I told him it was illegal to smoke indoors and he punched my nose.”
“Oh no! How horrible. Did your date help?” You gasp.
“Eventually yes, once they reached me. During the scuffle, the culprit had dropped the cigarette and it started a carpet fire. The movie theater floor was not treated to be fireproof so once the burning end of the cigarette hit it, it was in flames in seconds. That set off the sprinklers of course. People panicked and fled the room and when I was finally helped outside by my date soaking wet, my nose was bleeding, our clothes smelled like fire and smoke and cigarettes, and had to wait outside in the freezing cold wind for the fire department to arrive.”
“Oi!” You exclaim and smack his shoulder lightly before pulling him in for a searing kiss. He eagerly responds, opening his lips and allowing your tongue in, deepening the moment. One of his hands finds its way to your neck and cheek, the size of it covering almost the entire side of your face.
“I can’t believe you categorize our first date as a disaster! You got to take me home that night. And here we are, three years later!” You grumble playfully once you finally separate, the need for air too much. He chuckles softly and peers into your eyes, the dark orbs open and honest.
“Call it a lucky disaster then,” He winks before capturing your lips once more, slowly lowering you to the couch and covering your body with his. “Besides, I’ve never had a more gorgeous caretaker tape up my nose and ice it than the one that night.”
Thank you so much for this request, I loved visiting Ronnie for a lighthearted story ❤️
author’s notes: hellooo! I actually watched “The Dead Don’t Die” for the first time recently, and I totally fell for Ronnie. he’s adorable, and I’ve discovered that I love playing with the subby side of him ;)
You’re away in Philadelphia for a few days on business and he can’t stand not waking up next to you, not having you home when he comes home after a long and very mundane shift at the station, not falling asleep next to you, and he finds it especially hard not having you around when he needs some...relief.
You mean everything to him; you’re the center of his universe, everything he does is because of you. He’s so in love with you, his heart hurts sometimes, bursting with the sheer pride and pure love he feels for you. And, it doesn’t hurt that you’re as much of a sexual deviant as he is.
His knee bounces as he sits in his chair, typing up a police report, trying desperately to ignore the bulge currently pressing desperately against his work trousers. He grunts under his breath every time he shifts, involuntarily providing friction for his erection. It seems like every time he’s finally gotten it down to a manageable hardness, something happens that forces him to move and bring himself right back to where he started:
Hard as a fucking rock.
Soon, he has no choice but to succumb to his body’s needs once the station clears out, quickly rushing into the single bathroom, closing and locking the door behind him. His length throbs as his eyebrows furrow, groaning softly as he finally, finally pulls his pants down and the cool air of the station tickles his newly exposed skin.
He knows this is wrong, knows he shouldn’t be doing this, not here. But...the thought of touching himself here, in a partially-public restroom, makes him absolutely throb with arousal. He wants you to see it, wants you to be a part of it.
Ronnie wants you to know what a dirty, filthy boy he is.
So, he wraps a hand around his cock and immediately, his hips buck forward into his palm. He’s been waiting days for this moment, and his cock is so sensitive, tears are already forming in his eyes as he pumps his thick, veiny shaft.
You tell him all the time how impressive he is, how long and girthy he is, how he curves in just the right way to hit all the pleasure spots inside your walls. He likes to believe that he was made to pleasure you, to be inside you, much like a key fits into a lock.
Once he’s completely hard, he pulls out his phone to text you.
Ronnie: What are you doing right now?
You’re in the middle of a meeting when you feel your phone buzz on your thigh.
Y/N: In a meeting. Why? Did something happen?
He smirks to himself, snapping a picture of his dick for you.
Ronnie: Attachment: 1 image
Ronnie: Yeah, you’ve been away for three days. I’m in desperate need of your attention...will you help me?
You quickly put a hand over your mouth, muffling the soft moan that escapes your lips. Your legs quickly cross, thighs rubbing together to soothe the developing ache between your thighs.
Y/N: Oh, Ronnie...look at you, pumping your pathetic cock in the station bathroom like a disgusting slut. I bet you’re already close, aren’t you?
His eyes widen and he shoves his mouth into his arm, muffling the desperate cry that comes out of his mouth. God, you always know the right things to say to get him wound up.
Ronnie: I’ve been so fucking hard since you left, baby. Woke up all hard and ready for you, ready for your little pussy, but you’d already left. Had to get up and go to work before I could take care of it, and by the time I get home at night, I’m just too tired.
The thought of Ronnie being rock hard all day, sitting at his desk and trying not to touch himself is one that turns you on more than it probably should.
Y/N: You poor baby...oh, I bet you’re so full, hm? Are your balls heavy, so full of the seed you’ve been saving up? Three days without your fiancee has you fucking your hand in the station restroom, how pathetic. And you’ll probably get hard again ten minutes after you cum all over the sink like some fucking teenager.
He almost falls over, white-knuckling the counter as he ruts into his hand, sweat forming on his brow.
Ronnie: Call me. Now. Need to hear your voice.
You slip out unnoticed, thankful that this was an entire-group meeting and not one of the smaller ones you’d been attending the past two days. Your finger presses the ‘call’ icon next to Ronnie’s name as you go to the single-person restroom, locking the door.
He picks up almost immediately, breath heavy through the speaker.
Your knees shake at the desperation in his whisper.
His soft growl crawls through the small speaker, sending a shiver down your spine.
“I’m s-so close. Please, baby, p-please...”
You say, smirking.
“Are you gonna make a mess in the bathroom, Ronnie? Gonna cover the sink in your filthy cum like the little pervert I know you are?”
Ronnie’s practically sobbing, hips having a mind of their own as his cock takes over, chasing release.
“Y-Yeah, yeah, I’m g-gonna shoot my big f-fat fucking load onto the s-sink.”
You bite your lip, rubbing your thighs together.
“Is it gonna be a big one, baby? Ooooo, I bet it is, it’s gonna be so fucking big and hot.”
His glutes clench as he rocks harshly into the tight ‘O’ his hand has made, tip drooling precum as he teeters on the edge of orgasm.
“Gonna b-be so big, all f-for you, baby.”
He breathes, balls clenching as they prepare for release.
“Video c-call? Can we s-switch over?”
“Sure, baby, sure.”
You switch over to FaceTime, camera on you while your handsome fiance points his towards the mirror, turning himself to the side so that you can see his impressive length as he pumps it with vigor.
“Mmm, look at you, so desperate. Put the camera closer to your big cock, wanna see how nice and hard it is for me.”
Ronnie groans softly, biting his lip as he tilts the camera down to focus on his cock. You chew your lip as your eyes roam his length, tip slick and bright red, veins bulging out. You wish you could trace the tip of your tongue over the blue-green patterns.
“D-Do you see it, baby?”
He asks, breathily.
“Mmhmm, yeah I see. I see my fiance being a dirty, disgusting slut. Pumping your little cock when anyone could interrupt and see you like a horny fucking teenager. Can’t go three days without touching yourself, it’s shameful, really.”
His throaty growl comes through the speaker, and you can almost see the way his cock throbs, pulses in his palm.
“I had to step out of a fucking meeting to watch this? Watch my horny fiance jerk off in the middle of the work day? You better cum soon and you better make this all worth it.”
He pumps himself furiously, quickly turning and walking up to the sink.
“Y-Yeah, yeah I’ll make it w-worth it. I’ll show y-you my big load, show y-you all the cum I’ve kept f-for you.”
“Well, let’s get it over with then. Make a mess on the counter, mark it with your dirty cum.”
You say, pretending to sound annoyed, knowing it drives him nuts.
Your words send him over the edge, and you watch the camera shake a bit as rope after rope of creamy release shoots out onto the counter. Ronnie’s breath is shaky, exhaling through his teeth as he strokes himself through it.
“Thank you, honey.”
Ronnie breathes, lifting the camera up so that you can see the load.
You smile, cheeks warming at the sight of it. It was big, really big, and it always turned you on when he came a lot.
“Can I see you?”
You ask, smiling even wider when he turns the camera around to face him.
“There’s my handsome man.”
He blushes, always getting flustered when you say things like that.
“And there’s my beautiful, amazing fiancee.”
“I really do have to get back to my meeting, darling, but I’ll be home tonight. I’m so excited to see you.”
His lips pull up into a bright smile as he thinks about finally seeing you tonight again.
“I’m excited too, honey. I’ll repay you for this when you get home.”
He winks, making you giggle softly, biting your lip.
One Shot Collections
Autumn / Halloween One Shots
One Shot Prompts
Dark!Fic One Shots
Hits Like Ecstasy (Charlie Barber x Reader)
Crossover One Shots
Surrender / Take One (Ronnie Peterson x Reader x Flip Zimmerman)
Surrender / Take Two (Ronnie Peterson x Reader x Flip Zimmerman)
Tongue Tied (Ronnie Peterson x Reader x Flip Zimmerman)
Let Go (For Tonight) (Clyde Logan x Reader x Paterson)
Paterson One Shots
Clyde Logan One Shots
That Summer Feeling
The Shape I’m In
Kylo Ren / Ben Solo One Shots
To Reason And Faith
My Kind Of Rain (collab with @clumsycopy)
Safe From The Storm
Lost On You
You Trouble Me
Touch the Sky
Charlie Barber One Shots
Angel Of The Morning
Adam Sackler One Shots
Home Is With You