I know you don't take requests in the traditional sense, but if it sparks for any of the goose boys.. (especially six or holland) then first time getting eaten out?
ty ty ty i understand if not !!
∘₊✧ Reader’s first time getting eaten out by;
Sierra Six / Holland March / Lars Lindstrom / Ryland Grace / Colt Seavers / Driver / Henry Letham / Luke Glanton
You’re getting not one, not two, but eight different Goose scenarios for this anon, because something about it lit up eight specific Geese in my head, and I’m starting with the two you wanted most of all ;) pick your Goose and have fun!
Content: afab!reader, 'pussy' used to describe readers parts (Ryland, Colt and Henry), reader wears a skirt (Luke), oral sex - reader receiving, fingering, p in v, premature ejaculation (Driver), erectile dysfunction (Holland), smoking (Holland and Henry), semi-public (Luke)
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∘₊✧ Sierra Six
Six holds you down with his big, strong hands. He talks you through it, firm but quiet, his whispered voice cracking under the strain of how turned on he is — but he won’t pay any attention to his own needs when you haven’t experienced this before and he gets to be the first to show you such pleasures. There’s something about the responsibility of it that thrills him endlessly. No one will ever do it as good as him, and he wants to make damn sure you know that. He makes you feel completely secure, but also like there’s only one way to end this, and that’s you cumming over and over on his tongue and fingers until he’s satisfied he’s taught you enough of how good it can feel. He doesn’t even care whether you’re coherent enough to see to his needs after, that’s unimportant right now — he just wants to make you feel good.
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∘₊✧ Holland March
Holland smirks when he finds out you’ve never been eaten out before. Not because it’s funny, but because he’s smug. And why is he so smug, you might ask? Because this is where Holland really gets the chance to shine. He’s very good with his hands, but depending on how much he’s had to drink or how distracted he is by a case or how his grief is hitting him that day, his dick doesn’t always work the way he wants it too. It’s complicated. But he still always wants to satisfy you, so get his head between your legs, with a last puff of his cigarette for good luck, the smoke swirling over your glistening folds, and he goes to town. And he won’t stop until your fingers are tugging at his hair and your thighs are clamped around his head for at least the second or third time. You’ll never feel anything like Holland’s tongue. It’s magic.
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∘₊✧ Lars Lindstrom
Lars is nervous, because it’s his first time, too. But he’s glad you’re on this journey of intimacy together, and the trust he has for you surpasses any worries he might feel about getting it wrong or simply not being good at it. More than anything, Lars wants to please you, so when he dips between your thighs, careful fingers brushing over your slicked skin, he uses his fingers to expose your clit and leans in, starting slow. But god is it heavenly. His tongue is so delicate, so precise, he has you gripping the bedsheets in tight fists, crying out his name as he laps carefully but perfectly at your bundle of nerves. Your back arches as he changes pace, tries different pressures and directions… oh he’s a natural and you would beg for him to do this again — only you won’t need to because Lars gets a real taste for making you squirm for his tongue and his touch.
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∘₊✧ Ryland Grace
Ryland considers your inexperience with receiving oral sex carefully before he makes a move in that direction. He doesn’t consider you an experiment, but he likes to keep track of exactly how to please you, and experiment with what works, and therefore what else might satisfy you. He’s obsessed with your pleasure. He knows you love his fingers, that you’d have him pumping his thick middle finger into your soaked pussy knuckle deep every single night if you could, and he always obliges when the time comes. So he starts there, fucking into you with those precise fingers, using exactly the right formula to get you off so good. But just as he gets you going this time, he stops. Expecting your protest, he nervously brings his slick coated finger to his mouth and sucks it clean, moaning around it, his eyes sliding shut. ‘Mmh… please can I taste you?’ he begs, long eyelashes fluttering under your surprised gaze. ‘I’ve done the math and I think you’ll like it...’ And really, how could anyone say no to that?
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∘₊✧ Colt Seavers
Making out with Colt is always messy. Sex is messy. When he’s lost in kissing you, it’s sloppy and needy — and while sloppy would usually equate to gross, this is anything but. Colt’s handsy and passionate and his hair is always a mess by the end of the night (as is yours thanks to him), he licks and he bites (gently), and there are clothes strewn all over multiple rooms. You can’t even remember half the positions you’ve been in because it’s so fluid and free with him; he finds it exhilarating to pleasure you and just lets all the tensions of life go when he’s buried inside. So the thought of being the first to make you unravel with his tongue has him particularly excited. He’ll take you for a romantic drive, finding somewhere to demonstrate a few donuts, park up looking pleased with himself and kiss you fiercely, then check it’s okay before eating you like a starved man. You’ll have one foot on the steering wheel, the other leg hooked over his shoulders, underwear lost somewhere in the footwell that he’ll find tomorrow. But right now your pussy is all he’s interested in and he’s starved of it.
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∘₊✧ Driver
As if his kisses aren’t sensual enough, Driver’s oral skills don’t stop at getting you both close to orgasm (or in some cases for him, reaching orgasm) with just his tongue brushing against yours. So imagine his face when you’re making out, hot and heavy, and he begins to press his lips to your neck, unfasten your shirt, push lower… and as you realise where he’s headed you breathe out, ‘Wait- I’ve never done this before-’ Driver freezes, tilts his head up at you, and his sparkling eyes widen for a moment. He tilts his head and you know it’s a silent question; Do you want to? You nod. He resumes. And let’s just say he’s not the only one cumming hard while his lips are on you tonight.
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∘₊✧ Henry Letham
Henry takes his time. He’s in no hurry. He asks casually if you’ve ever cum on somebody’s tongue before and when you say no, he just looks away, thoughtful. ‘You wanna?’ he asks after another drag of his cigarette, still not looking at you while he waits patiently for your answer. And when it comes, affirming that you do want to, with him, he huffs out some vague acknowledgement, stubs out the remainder of his cigarette, faces you, and with the most gentle hands, lays you back. He removes your clothes like he’s making a work of art just by revealing your body, and his lips on your bare skin are hungry and desperate and filled with passion for this particular piece. He fingerfucks you first, preparing you as he watches your pussy take his slim digits, licking his lips before leaning in and finishing you with the most thorough strokes of his tongue. He slows as you breathe through the aftershocks, and then he sits back in his previous position against the wall, pants feeling a little tighter, leaving you to recover beside him as he lights up again. You’re dying to know what he’ll ask you next.
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∘₊✧ Luke Glanton
Luke wants you to feel special, as special as you are to him. He wants you, of course, but he also wants to make sure you feel ready. So after riding around on his motorbike, legs and arms clamped around his hips and chest, the vibration of the engine hitting your core in a way you didn’t expect, he can sense you’re turned on. He pulls over somewhere desolate, kneels beside his parked bike and pulls you around to face him, perched on the seat, before spreading your legs with his rough hands, pushing your underwear aside and burying his head under your skirt. It’s not long until you’re rutting back against his tongue, one hand tangled in his bleach blonde hair as the other grips the seat of his bike that you’re only half sitting on now, to keep yourself tethered. He comes up to kiss you when you’ve come undone for him; you taste so good he can’t keep it to himself. And then you ride back off into the night together.
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Ryland/Colt/Driver x Camgirl!Reader ୭ 🎵—FEM!reader
ahem. can u tell i went crazy w driver for this one...lol thats my bf ☹️🖤..
RYLAND GRACE
— He stumbles onto your Twitter by accident while searching for "zero-gravity simulation" and instead finds your pinned tweet: a twenty-second clip of you riding a dildo in nothing but thigh-high socks. He watches it nine times before he even realizes he's hard. His first thought is "I need to analyze this frame by frame for… scientific purposes." He doesn't. He just cums into his palm, face flushed, muttering your display name under his breath.
— During your live streams, he takes notes. Not creepy stalker notes, helpful observations. He focuses on the angle for your hips when you arch your back, the exact pressure needed on your clit from the way you gasp when you use a vibrator, the precise rhythm that makes your thighs tremble. He tells himself it's for "research." Then he uses those notes to jerk off later, imagining he's the one applying those findings.
— He finally works up the courage to request a custom video: you, dressed like a lab coat, reading a fake scientific paper about "The Effects of Repeated Orgasm on Cognitive Function in Pretty Women." You film it, giggling and snorting through the whole thing, finding it ridiculous but creative. He cums before you even finish the papers. He nervously saves the video to a hidden folder.
— He's watched your "cum countdown" video so many times he knows exactly when you moan his name, you said his name once—joking—and he's never forgotten. He replays that second over and over, whispering your name back, his hand wrapped around his cock, pretending you're there, that you're saying it for real.
COLT SEAVERS
— He finds your Twitter through a friend's retweet, sees you in a lacy bra and boy shorts, and immediately thinks "I could make her scream louder than that." He follows you, likes every single post, and leaves corney, god awful comments like "You're a hazard, sweetheart. I'd risk the fall." He's cocky, but he's also genuine and pining hard, and he doesn't care who knows.
— He slides into your DMs with a photo of himself shirtless, covered in fake blood from a stunt, holding a thumbs-up. "Just took a hit for the team. You look like you'd be worth the concussion." You laugh to yourself and reply, "You'd have to impress me first." He's hooked. He spends the next week trying to come up with a line that's better than that. He fails. He sends you a video of him doing a backflip off a moving car instead. (idiot.)
— He catches one of your streams live, and you're doing a "strip tease challenge" where you remove one piece of clothing for every donation. He donates $500 just to see you take off your panties. You read his username, "stunterseavs" and say, "A stuntman i'm assuming? I've always wanted to fuck an adrenaline junkie." He cums in his jeans right there, hunched over his phone, missing the rest of the stream because he's too busy cleaning up.
— He sees other guys in your comments, talking dirty, and he gets possessive. He starts commenting with his own brand of "alpha" energy (it's extremely loser-ish): "Back off, freaks. She's mine." He knows it's pathetic, but he can't stop. He DMs you, "Tell me I'm the only one you think about when you touch yourself...please?" You send him a voice note of you moaning his name with a fat smug grin on your face. He saves it and listens to it on loop while he fucks his fist.
DRIVER
— He finds your Twitter entirely by accident—a retweet from a crash video account that seemingly accidentally retweeted or was hacked into. Your profile pic is you in a tiny little dress that has your tits spilling out and he stares at it for ten minutes before following. He never likes, never comments, never retweets. He just watches. At night, in his apartment, he opens your profile on his phone, scrolls through your entire archive, and jerks off silently, riddled with a hot flush of guilt, is jaw tight and his eyes never leave the screen. He never makes a sound.
— Your videos often feature you touching yourself, your fingers glistening, and he can't stop thinking about his hands on you. But he always imagines wearing his driving gloves—the leather ones, the ones he wears when he's working. He imagines sliding them over your thighs, your cunt, the rough texture making you gasp. He strokes his cock with the same gloves on, the leather smelling of gasoline and sweat, and he comes hard, his breath hitching and ragged.
— He watches you live, but he never types in chat. He just sits in the dark, his laptop's glow on his face, his hand moving slowly under his sweatpants. You're playing with a vibrator, gasping soft, and he's so focused he forgets to breathe. When you cum, he does too, silently, his cum spilling over his fingers. He wipes his hand on his shirt and closes the laptop without a word.
— One night, you're streaming and you mention you have a thing for hands. "Big, strong hands. Perhaps a little veiny. Definitely wearing gloves." He freezes. He's wearing his gloves right now. He slowly takes one off, then the other, and he sends you a private message: a photo of his bare hand, palm open, slightly scarred knuckles. He doesn't write anything else. You reply, "I'd let those hands do anything." He gets too worked up before he can even reply.
— He fantasizes about picking you up from a stream. You're in a club, or a bar, and he's in the corner, watching. He follows you to the parking lot, grabs your wrist—gentle despite the action—and pushes you against his car. He doesn't say a word. He just kisses you, hard, his tongue in your mouth, his hand up your skirt. He fucks you against the door, his hand over your mouth, and you come on his cock without a loud sound. He drives you home, doesn't ask for your number, and the next night he watches your stream again, knowing you're thinking of him.
HOPE THIS WAS DECENT? lmk if we want more of these three or any of these ones...
Ryland has a big thing for fucking you with his fingers while testing your knowledge on all his nerdy science interests. If you get one wrong, he spanks your pretty pussy until you get it right.
Sometimes Ryland will run his mouth and piss you off. In these cases, he doesn't deserve anything better than this.
just Ryan munchin
This just gives driver vibes. The way hes so gentle and rubs the marshmallow on his cock, letting you suck on it.
This is just Leland. hes whiny
court punishing you. , fingering your tight pussy
grinding on lukes thigh after hes done performing on his bike. , eating you outttttt
often i think about a hypothetical scenario where Reader is definitely aware of who Driver is and what he really does, but she never says a single word to him when they pass by in the hallway, except maybe the usual social pleasantries. like a professional idgaf-er who dgaf (Driver) meeting an actual idgaf-er. now Driver wants to know who she is. he starts mapping her routines and asks the occasional probing question when the opportunity arrives; Reader answers with a very succinct, almost curt response, and they leave it at that. they do this again and again until the tension between them snaps like a crunchy twig.
Continued from this post and encouraged by @rivercattail <3
driver!gn!reader random fluff drabble imagine w/e no triggers imo
The trip to the west coast—Oregon—specifically was impulsive. You just suddenly felt the urge to get out of the city and as it was the the week of your five month anniversary... Driver agreed. He would do anything to see you happy after all.
Even endure a flight with layovers on a metal box of death.
The next morning after the two of you land Driver is antsy. He crashed hard after the plane ride and cuddled you the entire night like a man who needed to constantly remind himself you were safe. Solid. His.
And that he was back on solid ground. No more shaky turbulence or crowded airports.
Once you wake up, Driver spends a few hours rolling around in the sheets with you, mesmerized by your beauty, and needing to be close to you again.
After, Driver drags you out of the hotel to the nearest car rental agency. He slaps down a thick wad of cash and after you sheepishly explain they only take cards, the two of you are good.
Thankfully, this agency specifically always has several fast cars in stock. Once all the business is taken care of, you and Driver leave in flashy style. He picked something seemingly vintage you can't remember the name of, but he is clearly very pleased.
Hours later your cruising along the coast, taking in the beauty of nature as it speeds by you. Driver is enchanted by it too and occasionally he pulls over so the two of you can breathe it all in.
So different from the city and you breathe in the nice, clean, fresh air.
"Ever think about just getting away from it all and moving up here or anywhere else really? No more crazy ass LA?" You ask after a moment.
You do not look him in the eye, only continue to stare wistfully into the distance.
"Didn't use to. I do now."
"What do you mean?" You ask, turning towards him now and tilting your head.
"Never had reason to want anything like that before you." Driver murmurs. "Life was just jobs and work."
You nod, encouraging him to go now.
Driver shrugs lightly, but you can tell how serious he is.
"Now... I think about the future... keeping you safe and us being happy. Los Angeles don't fit that picture."
"Yeah?" You whisper, trying to keep the tears brimming in your eyes at bay.
Driver leans over the console and gently strokes your cheek before brushing his lips against yours in a sweet kiss.
"Yeah, baby. You're my reason," he says against your soft lips.
You cry fully then without shame and he pulls you into his arms after pushing his seat back. Driver has been your reason to want better since you met him and your heart is so full it could burst.
The two of you decide to blow off the plane tickets back and instead take a road trip back to Los Angeles. Driver thanks God.
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can ya’ll please request fics?? I’m tryna write and whatever drafts I have dont seem to cut it! like they are just not satisfying enough to post. maybe a request for would make me feel motivated again!!
i know you just did this, but good god i need more of the driver!!! you just write him so incredibly well. the driver x ken fic is my roman empire <2
anyway i just love driver being dangerous and intense and obsessed with the reader, if that's something you'd wanna write :)
Thank you!!!! Driver is one of my absolute faves to write for, and I'm glad you enjoyed the content I wrote for the silly little ship. <3
I hope this is along the lines you were looking for!
{ masterlist }
※ Summary: Your not-quite-boyfriend, Driver, handles your after work harassment situation.
※ Rating: T for mention of implied murder and sexual harassment
※ Word count: 1130
You’re quiet when you get into the passenger seat of his car. The black leather seat is cold underneath you. You buckle yourself in, hoping that your body doesn’t betray you with shaky hands. The man behind the wheel doesn’t greet you. That’s normal. Perfect even, after the night you’ve had.
“Thanks for picking me up,” you finally say, trying to aim for normalcy.
“Happy to do it.” He doesn’t spare any extra words.
It’s routine now, this nameless man picking you up from work. He's been doing it ever since he slid into your life at the laundromat of all places. He'd offered you a ride back to your apartment in his forty year old car after being involved in the struggle with your laundry basket. It had ripped itself out of your hands and emptied the contents over the pavement. He helped you put everything back in despite your furiously flushing face. He didn’t bat an eye over your ratty sweatpants or your underwear. Accepting his offer was easy. He seemed politely earnest, safe. Besides, you had reasoned, it was broad daylight. What harm could there possibly be?
There hadn’t been any. The short ride had gone so easily that you had let it slip that you were without a vehicle. In response, he offered to help you with errands and to take you to and from work. You shot him down partially, insisted on walking or taking the bus during daylight hours to your job. He had begrudgingly relented on picking you up from your workplace. This agreement has ended in the two of you spending a lot of time together. More than you probably should be. It's not just errands and commutes. There have been shared meals, movies… he’s been everything but your boyfriend. That line still has not been crossed. Though… you have started to wonder what it would be like to take the ever-present toothpick out of his mouth and kiss him. Would he let you? Would he enjoy it?
You finally take a look at him while you sit in silence at the last stop light before the turn into your apartment’s parking lot. He is looking straight ahead, eyes focused on the street beyond the Chevy’s hood. His face is impassive, but right as the light turns green, his eyes flicker to meet yours. The possessive glint in them causes your breath to hitch. For a split second, he looks like he would eat you alive. You turn away, the moment passes.
He doesn’t speak until he pulls into a parking spot in front of your apartment building. He gets out and opens your door for you like always, ever the considerate friend. He watches you extract yourself and shuts the door after you. He leans against it, crosses his arms, looks like he doesn’t have a care in the world.
“What happened tonight?” Disinterested tone to go right along with his relaxed posture. His eyes say differently.
A long silence stretches out between the two of you. You’re reluctant to speak, embarrassed over the situation. You manage to look at him and he calmly raises his eyebrows. He’s not going to drop it.
“You know… it was just those guys again. They got a little bolder tonight, I guess.”
“What did they do?”
“Ran their mouths,” you shrug. “One of them found some courage and slapped me on the ass…” You trail off, the look on Driver’s face enough to steal the words right out of your mouth. You’ve never seen him look angry, not like this.
“I’ll kill ‘em.”
You laugh, thinking he’s joking. When his face doesn’t soften, you realize he’s serious and you sober up. “No. I’m okay. Really. Please don’t worry about it.”
“They upset you.” The mechanic says it matter of factly, like upsetting you is a death sentence.
You wring your fingers together. Uncertain. Nervous. Concerned. You haven’t been sure of what your relationship with him is lately, and when he acts like this, you’re even less sure. He frightens a primal part of your brain with his intensity. He is like a different creature in the night, more animal than man.
“Driver…” you say softly. You’re not sure of what else to say.
He stays quiet. The look on his face as he leans against his car and rolls the toothpick in his mouth between his fingers is full of dark promise. You shiver and it has nothing to do with the cold. He notices it, of course he does. He’s the most observant person you have ever met. Nothing escapes his awareness. The man pushes himself out of his casual lean, uncrosses his arms, and comes to your side. He lightly brushes his fingers over the back of your arm. You can feel the warmth of his skin through the layers separating your bodies.
The walk to your front door is uneventful. He remains at your side, close enough to where you brush against one another with every other step. You pause at the door, unlock it, and impulsively twist to look up at him. You catch a tender look on his face before he puts his guard up and he’s a blank slate again. Your mouth feels dry. You throw caution into the wind and fully face him. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you wrap your arms around him, firmly hugging the man. Driver is stiff, caught by surprise, but his arms come up around you. You stand like that for a long moment. He gradually relaxes and melts against you.
“Don’t do anything ridiculous. I worry about you,” you mumble against the smooth fabric of his bomber jacket. You reluctantly release him and step back.
He doesn’t respond with words, just opens your door for you and gently guides you through your own doorway with a firm hand spanning across your lower back.
“Goodnight," he tells you.
───※ ·❆· ※───
It’s not until halfway through your shift that your coworkers start making a ruckus. One of them loudly calls your name from the other room until you respond. You push through the swinging door out into the dining area to see the other employees gathered around the television mounted on the wall.
“-beaten almost to the point of no recognition-”, “police say the men were found in an alley by-”, “-no suspects at this time-”
The news anchor’s voice fades in and out as your mind reels. He didn’t. He wouldn’t.
“Aren’t these the guys that were giving you trouble last night? Musta got on somebody’s bad side.” The dishboy jokes to you.
“Yeah,” you say, faking a laugh.
He would. You know in your gut that he would. For you, he would do anything.
Going to visit your Uncle and his family at Downton Abbey. Lord Grantham sent Branson the new driver to pick you up from the station. Branson being super suprised that you also spoke in an Irish accent, he assumed you spoke like the Crawley's. Turns out as a child you were sent to a boarding school in Dublin and the accent kind of stuck.
