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fallbhind · 22 days ago

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‘OH SWEET 'N SOUR LEMONS’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut wordcount 2k

“we can work on it”

content warnings ,, dilf!rafe, old!rafe, young!reader, fem!reader, unprotected sex (wrap that shit 'fore you tap it), oral (m! receiving) p in v, slight tit play, more of 'make up' or 'i'm sorry' sex rather than it coming from real emotions, aftercare tho.

per usual, another fucking (typical) stupid argument with rafe because you wanted to hang out but he had his kids that weekend, so he was busy. sure, you typically wouldn't mind, but his ex-wife was totally slacking on her duties, and maybe you thought that because you were almost a decade younger than rafe, but he'd been stuck with the kids for almost a month with no break.

it wasn't fair. but you knew that bitch-of-an-ex was doing it out of spite because he found someone younger, hence, you.

you were helping the kids to bed, in the maze of tanneyhill, you led them to their bed room. "in your beds." you said softly, tucking them both in one at a time. you pressed a soft kiss onto his little girls head.

with a flick of the light, the dark room was instantly lighted with the ladybug night light plugged into the wall, "night." you muttered to the two, leaving the door cracked. you were a good stepmother, a stark reminder in you and the children's relationship. you'll never be able to replace their real momma, but you can try.

rafe was rewinding after a long day. flicking through every channel as you settled on the couch, the couch dipping underneath your weight. rafe constantly fiddled with the ring on his finger, which reminded him more of his dad every. single. day. after a few minutes of dwelling on the animal planet channel, he switched it, before deciding to switch off the tv. you both saw your reflections. rafe's pouting expression, and your even poutier expression.

he turned the tv back on, disliking the fact he could just see his reflection in the tv, as well as yours as the screen went to black. the soft flicker of the tv coming back on, you drew your attention to it.

"mm." rafe said gruffly, a poor attempt to start even the slightest conversation with you. you let out a soft grunt back, initially saying he could continue. "'m sorry about earlier." he said quietly, not to mention quickly.

you nodded softly, turning to look at him as he scratched his fingers into his freshly shaved buzz cut. not even going to lie, he looked oh so good in his blue-white button up shirt. "me too." you whispered back, going back to whatever was playing on tv, feigning you were actually interested.

you nervously played with the drawstring off your jacket. you were more of a carefree person with a hobo-ish style. and it fit rafe just fine. "nothin' good is on." you said admittedly, turning your head towards rafe, unconsciously moving closer to him.

he shifted slightly, his arms welcoming you in his hold. you leaned into him, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath. rafe's arm calmly laid across your shoulder, weighing you down slightly. you pulled your legs off the ground, pulling yourself closer to rafe. that was the main difference between rafe and his ex and you and rafe. you and him got over arguments, while rafe and his ex tended to go with out talking. maybe it was just your attachment issues with him you couldn't stay mad, or you didn't want him to say he wanted to break up because sure, the sex was good, but at the end of the day, you always wanted to be a mother to his kids rather than leaving.

"your a good co-parent." rafe whispered into your head, referring to when he flew a few not so friendly insults towards you and trying to replace his ex. sure, that's really what you were trying to do, but it didn't mean that it wouldn't hurt when he called you out on it. maybe that was partially you didn't want to face the reality of the doubts you could ever replace his girls mother. but you can try. she wasn't even a good mom in the first place, you thought to yourself, and you weren't wrong.

you nodded softly when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "i know i am." you said back to him. he rollled his eyes at the oh so bratty comment back to what he told you. "brat" he mumbled to you.

after a boring thirty minutes, rafe opted to go lay down, he left you alone in the living room to dwell about really anything. rafe was so frustrating, sexually and in general. you made your way to the bedroom, turning off the light off in the living room. you traveled your way through the dark hallway to your bedroom. you passed the girls bedroom, hearing their peaceful soft snores. you stoped at their bedroom, peaking into their bedroom where the soft ladybug night light flickered gently.

you left their door cracked, walking towards your bedroom. greeted by rafe, "hey baby, c'mere," he said softly, "come lay down." he put his book on the side of the bed.

you changed into your pajama, then you crawled into bed with him. "'m so tired." you whispered, laying right on top of him. you threw an arm around his torso, burying your face into his pillow on his side of the bed.

he nodded, "i know. but i need you to do something for me." he cupped your cheek, his hand tangled in your hair. rafe pulled you in for a gentle kiss, "i've been s'pent up since the kids have been here for weeks 'n know their sleepin'" his hand caressed your face ever so gently. after subtle hinting, you made a face before nodding before he hooked his fingers under his black fancy pants, pushing them down slightly, his boxers coming next.

it was almost gave him embarrassment on how fast it went up. but then again comes the factor of he hasn't been able to request your assistance since his children have been at home. while you enjoyed the bonding with his two daughters, he wasn't the only thing pent up. rather than having sex when they went to bed, the both of you watched tv.

you wriggled your way in between his legs, grabbing the base of his cock before gently licking the precum off his tip. he let out a soft groan, which was more whimper like than anything. you made him so submissive in a way, y'know, like he acts big and bad before sucking him off, but as soon as you lick his sensitive tip he becomes all whimpery, and it turned you on.

you slowly pushed your mouth all the way onto his cock, your plump lips moving up and down on him. he let out a soft noise out of pleasure, one of your hands going to cup his ball, feeling then already tighten.

you let out a whimper as his cock hit the back of your throat voluntarily. and it kept repeatingly hitting the back of your throat, and you let out a gagging noise, showing of your not-so-good-gag reflex. "t's'okay." rafe managed out, "we can work on it." he softly pushed your head down, not letting you up for breath of air, and than when he found himself nearer towards release, he let you up.

after inhaling air, you went back down to finish him. rafe convulsed, his hand falling away from the vice he had on your hair, his eyes rolled back, "fuck." he groaned, his back arching slight as he came in your mouth. "swallow it f'me." he tapped your chin, shutting your mouth for you. he held your chin in satisfaction as he watched you swallow his warm load. he wiped the slight load on the side of your face, which was what didn't go all the way into your mouth.

you sat up, kicking off your pajama shorts that rafe had bought you, than hooking your thumb on the waist band of your underwear, pulling it down. he shuddered, attentively going to touch your shining pussy. he massaged your clit, earning a good and well earned soft moan from you.

he pulled you back onto him, allowing you to insert his cock into your tight hole. you both let out collective groans and moans. your room felt like a fucking sauna the way your body caught fire when you made contact with his body. you rolled your hips, like how your eyes rolled into the back of your head. you let out another moan as your hips rocked back and forth on him.

he grabbed your hips, slowing your pace down by the slightest. rafe held you in a vice, despite your quiet(ish) mewls of protest wanting to rock your own hips (key thing to why he thinks your a brat). "sh, you're a good girl." he whispered insight to your slight protests

you let out a soft moan when he pushed you further down onto him, "rafe!" you cried out, allowing him to rock you back in forth before allowing you to do as you wanted, his hands merely resting on your thighs rather than have your hips in a vice grip.

you rolled your hips, creating friction between you and rafe. the sweat smells filled both your and rafe's nostrils. you started to slowly bounce on his cock, both you and rafe letting out groans and moans at every bounce. he started to unbutton your night shirt to release your tits, they were following each of your bounce. you used rafe's shoulder to provide you stability, whilst he was unclipping your bra from your body.

rafe whispered sweet praises as he and you both neared release. his hands went to cup your titties as they bounced. he massaged your tits when they bounced. they weren't huge, nor were they small. they were perfect for rafe, his hand cupping one and it fit in his hand. he shuddered when you convulsed, and in a moment of breath-taking pleasure, you came around his cock, your hot liquids gushing around his cock. it was a piece of art, really. with your panting and the squelch of your come around his cock, you rested against his chest as he let out yet another string of his load inside of it, combined with your and his come, it looked even better than before.

"maybe you'll get your own kid tonight." he whispered hoarsely, pulling you off his body to go to the walk in bathroom.

he grabbed a rag, running it over cold water to clean you. you laid breathless, spread out on yours and his bed. when he made his way back to the bed, he turned on the box fan in the floor to help cool the both of you off. he took the cool wash cloth, pressing it against your thigh, you body indistinctly flinching from the contrast of your boiling body to the cool rag being moved along your thigh. he gently rubbed your sensitive pussy with the rag to clean up any other liquid that might've found it's way out of your cunt.

"there you go baby." he whispered, gently pressing a kiss against your forehead, your eyes half lidded as you were on the verge of passing out. rafe helped you put on a new pair of underwear, but the same bra and pajamas. he picked your underwear from off the floor, going to throw them in your dirty close basket. he changed into a pair of boxers. the room reeked of sex, and he smelled like it himself. he plugged in your favorite air freshener into the wall before pulling himself to rest. he laid sat up in bed, scrolling on social media as he held you in his arms.

when he found himself dozing off with the phone in his hand, he sat it on the nightstand. he laid his head on yours as he fell asleep for the night, it was a really cute sight, some might say. like something out of silly rom-com, or any romantic movie, really.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

#꒰๑ ´` ๑꒱ my works⠀𓈒 #⭒ mae's favorite #rafe cameron #rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #outerbanks #outerbanks smut #outerbanks x reader

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heavenbarnes · 8 months ago

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need our simon to come home from deployment IMMEDIATELY 🫶🏼 | p1 p2 p3 p4

your older bf!simon comes home from deployment at dinner time on a tuesday.

herb alpert on the kitchen radio, knife tearing through a bunch of parsley, garlic and onion simmering on the stove behind you.

simon can hear it- smell it through the mail flap.

smells like home.

your ears prick at the sound of the door swinging open, the hinges alerting you to a secondary presence. back tensing for just a moment before you hear steps you could pick out in a lineup.

he sees your fluffy slippers first, then your little shorts, then his t-shirt. finally, he’s met with wide eyes and the kitchen light hits the curve of your face so nicely.

simon could cry.

you already were.

“oh my god, si”

he doesn’t really want to touch you with his outside clothes, tactical gear smelling like the back of a cargo plane and you’re so soft and lovely he’s afraid he might mess it all up.

but there’s nothing stopping the way you leap at him across the kitchen and swing your entire self around him and he’s forgetting what he’s wearing and he’s wrapping his arms around you like he knows you won’t break.

his tongue is immediately in your mouth and he’s taking one gasping breath and filling his nose with the scent that’s overwhelming him.

simon realises right then that the house smells like dinner but you smell like home. you are home. he’s home.

when he finally lets you let him go you’re telling him to leave all his gear by the washer and you’ll sort it all out tomorrow but right now he needs to sit down so you can feed him.

he’s back in the kitchen with a sweatshirt and shorts on and he’s never found his own clothes so comfortable. maybe it’s because he can smell you on the fabric.

you’d only been cooking enough for one but at this point, you’re so happy to have him home that you’re plating up the whole thing for him as he sits at the dining table.

his chair scrapes back along the floor and he’s patting his thigh, simon eats his tea with you curled up in his lap telling him everything he’d missed.

apparently, old-mate next door broke up with his missus and it was quite the scene.

apparently, they finally finished the roadworks on the junction at the end of your street and there was no longer a blur of orange cones on the drive to work.

apparently, there was going to be a barbecue at the house down the street and the two of you were invited. you might make a salad to take with.

you could’ve been reading him the phonebook and simon would be a happy man. his hand was holding under your thigh and your face was in the crook of his neck.

he was home.

dishes done (together) and tea steaming on the coffee table in front of him, simon isn’t sure this couch has ever been this plush. he could melt into it, as long as it was just like this.

bare feet up on the ottoman and one arm wrapped around your side as your head lay against his chest. you could hear his heartbeat and he could hear the football you’d recorded for him whilst he was away.

deployment was fucking rough, seen and done things he didn’t even want to think about. but this is what he comes home to.

you.

you who curls up in his lap and idly twirls the drawstring of his shorts round your finger.

you who offered up all of your food to him to fill the pit that’d been growing in his stomach over the weeks.

you who couldn’t give less of a fuck about the football on tv but watches in quiet contentment for the sake of being closer to him.

you who doesn’t ask once about what happened while he was away but will always listen without judgement if he needs to get something off his chest.

ideally, simon would like to give you the world in return. then again, he doesn’t think even that’d be enough.

instead, he takes you up to your shared bed and, miraculously, he doesn’t fall asleep as soon as his back touches the mattress.

he could, very easily, but instead he pulls you down on top of him and gets his lips back on yours. the kiss when he came through the door had been passionate but it’d been fleeting.

simon had kept it like that, knowing if he spent a second longer with your tongue on his then he’d have you over the kitchen bench and that wasn’t what he wanted.

really, he wanted this. the full weight of you on top of him and your hips rolling messily against his as his hands went up underneath your his shirt.

he wanted to run his fingertips along your bare back and feel skin so soft he almost couldn’t remember the things his hands had done just last week.

he wanted to map out every spot, every freckle, every ridge across your shoulders and commit it to memory so the next time he had to up and leave he could trace you like a constellation in the night sky.

truthfully, simon didn’t want to leave next time. he wanted to get the call from price and tell him that he was sorry but he couldn’t do it any longer. he now had something- someone to live for and he just couldn’t gamble odds like he used to.

he wasn’t entirely sure he’d still hold the sentiment on the other side of blowing a load so simon put those thoughts in the back of his head and decided he’d work them out on tomorrow morning’s run.

right now, simon felt the soft skin of the inside of your cheeks and your spit tastes like the nectar those gods harped on about and he’s pulling hard on your hips as he rolled something hard between them.

you were moaning, whimpering, whinging into his mouth while you ground yourself into the hard line of his cock. raging erection didn’t even cover it and his head was tipping back as a-

yawn, deep and all consuming broke from his throat.

simon was fucking knackered.

exactly what he didn’t want to happen was happening in front of him, you were sitting up and cooing at him so fucking sweetly.

“si, you’re exhausted- we’ll go to sleep”

strong grip around your waist was anchoring you to the spot so you couldn’t climb out of his lap like you were currently trying.

“sweet’art”

you could hear it in his voice, he couldn’t even lift his head off the pillow. you conceded, however, letting him rub soft little circles into your hips.

“jus’ gimme’ one and then we’ll sleep”

laying back down against his chest, you felt the air woosh out of him as you relaxed your body on his. face fitting into the crook of his neck like you were made for him (you were) with a hand running along his collarbone.

“we’ve got tomorrow”

you knew it was futile, he was already slipping your shorts to the side. head tilting just a little to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“and i need you tonight”

settled.

you felt one large hand lift you up as his other freed his cock out his shorts. just enough, just enough to get the job done because any extra effort was going to render him unconscious.

bringing a hand to his mouth, he spit in his palm quickly before rubbing it along the head of his cock. deep groan rumbled beneath you as you felt him pressing against your entrance.

“lift y’top up, sweet’art- wanna’ feel y’on me”

you did him one better, leaning up enough to slip the shirt over your head and onto the floor. forcing him to hold his arms up for just a second, you pulled his sweatshirt off and discarded it in the pile.

bare chest to chest, you could feel simon shudder beneath you. snaking one arm under his armpit and the other around his ribs, you snuggled in tight as you felt him slip right in.

that’s all he wanted.

weeks of photos, videos, imagination to go off of. this was all he ever wanted. you so close to him that it was entirely possible to imagine the two of you as one. that there was no version of reality without you together in it.

lazily rolling his hips up into you as you met him halfway, rolling yours back down to share half of the load. simon’s arms wrapped around your back, keeping you close and keeping you moving against him.

“sorry love, s’not gonna’ be a long one”

you could only respond with a whimper, gently nodding your head into his neck as your lips press soft little kisses into the skin. you didn’t need a long time, you just needed him.

unable to help yourself from noticing the couple new scratches he’d come home with, your fingers idly traced along them as he sucked in a breath at the feeling.

what you wouldn’t give to keep him home and keep him safe.

a thought for another day as you felt yourself constricting around his cock, grinding yourself into his lap as firm muscle rubbed against your front.

tiny little gasps flitted from your mouth and into his ear, you could feel his body tensing up beneath you. it wasn’t just with sheer tiredness, you knew this man like the back of your hand.

left hand coming out from under where you’d buried it behind his back, you ran the tips of your fingernails down simon’s chest. you stopped at his nipple, gently scraping along the peaked flesh until you heard him.

“need y’to cum right now f’me please”

slipping your other hand between the two of you, you let your fingers wander against yourself until you could feel the tide breaking in the pit of your stomach.

body clenching involuntarily, your mouth dropping open against his skin. no doubt drool pooling against his collarbone as you came with a pathetic whimper. hips bucking a little crazy in his lap as his hand ran the length of your back.

“god that’s it, sweet’art”

simon went rigid, gripping you tight like you might go somewhere as the dams broke and he filled you up. hot and sticky and dripping out of you and onto the waistband of his shorts.

he fell so still the only way you’d know he was still alive was the rise and fall of his chest beneath you. his arms were already starting to fall limp around you.

coming back from the bathroom, slipping off the rest of your clothes and adding them to the pile. simon wasn’t asleep, there were no snores, but he had been rendered totally immobile.

pulling the remainder of his clothes off for him and settling in beside, you pulled the sheets up over the both of you as his arm began drawing you in.

draped across him, you could feel his lips pressing against the crown of your head.

“m’gonna’ rock y’world in the morning”

you snorted a little laugh, nuzzling in closer as his breathing starts to even out. no use in replying, snorings about the only answer you’re going to get.

not that you’d mind.

he was home.

#im sorry i went for realism- we’re not getting crazy out of him the first night home #i just need him so carnally i would accept anything he had on offer #older bf!simon #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley drabble #simon riley blurb #simon ghost riley drabble #simon ghost riley blurb #ghost drabble #ghost blurb

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hoshigray · 11 months ago

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𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Toji x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - oral (m! receiving) - ball-massaging - face + throat-fucking - praise - pet names (baby, cutie, mama, sweet thing) - implied that reader has given oral prior - first-time Toji finding enjoyment in receiving oral - heavy depictions of a blowjob - mention of spit.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: "Toji has never really enjoyed oral. At least, not until Y/n went down on them for the first time…"

I was playing with NSFW prompts for the first time, and this was literally the first one it gave me…genius. (¬‿¬) guess kinda a switch-up from this oldie i did~ hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and New Year's, accept this as my welcome back present, hehe~ also tysm for 4.6k, hello????

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.6k

“…Hey, Toji?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“…Can I…..give you a blowjob?”

Up until this point, Toji was never one to be given oral from anyone.

Giving oral isn’t a problem. But receiving it from someone else? That’s another thing. Call it his personal preference or years of sexual experience, but the older man never actually found pleasure in it. It could be from the many inexperienced minxs he’s had to get his dick wet, whose frequent teeth and bites sabotaged the mood for him. Or probably from the others who just really didn’t appear to know what they were doing — again, ruining the mood. Or the fact that most of the time, as mentioned, he finds himself satisfying his partner at the time more than himself.

Not that he minds at all; no, no. He finds great satisfaction in going in between someone’s legs and getting them turned on from his work. But when it comes to the thought of having his dick sucked, it’s a hard pass. Respectfully.

Which brings us to the present: him on the couch with an arm wrapped behind your shoulders, bringing you close to him as you watch television comfortably. The ceiling lights dimmed to a warm low glow, your head draped on his shoulder as his hand rubs comforting circles on yours, and the silence only filled with the voices coming from the TV isn’t awkward in the presence of you two. Why would it be? He’s with you, his little sweet thing. And that’s all he wants right now.

So, after all the fidgeting with your thumbs and the occasion glances at him (which he noticed, of course), it was apparent that you’d soon ask him something out of the blue. What he hadn’t expected, though, was that question.

“Pfft, that’s random,” he scoffs at the sudden question, and more subtle chuckles resort from the bashful turn of your head. God, you were so cute. “Why ask, sweet thing?”

“I was…just wondering, you know?” Your eyes travel down to your twiddling thumbs, avoiding Toji’s deep, observant emerald gaze. “We’ve been together for this long, and not once have I ever given you a blowjob. And I know, you always say you’re fine with it, but like…I really wanna give you one.”

And that’s when you muster up some confidence to peer up at him meekly, and that’s what seals the deal for Toji. Who is he to deny such puppy dog eyes from his baby?

“Okay then,” he chortles with a smirk, the scar on his right side rooted up. It’s just a blowjob. If not for me, then for them. “Do what you do, cutie.” Little did he know that this would blow his expectations far out.

It started out nice and slow. Toji indulged in your kisses as you snuck your hand into the hem of his drawstring pants, sucking on his tongue while fingers crept inside his boxer briefs to give his cock a rub. He groans into your mouth, liking how you’re setting the mood until you take your lips away from his and slide off the couch to be between his legs. Removing his underwear to the floor, you examine his half-soft dick before using your hands to wrap around the base, massaging around it while you take the tip in your mouth. Toji sighs in bliss at the feeling of your soft licks and rolls of your tongue, shifting around to get more comfortable on the couch.

His erection becomes less and less flaccid, hardening around your mouth. This is where you decide to take in more of his length, hallowing your cheeks as you push your puffy lips down halfway down his erection. By the time you reach this base, your throat is so full of Toji’s girth that you use his sweatpants as reins for your hands as you try to give yourself a few seconds to adjust to the limb occupying your throat. You continue to suck on his cock, bobbing up and down with your saliva coating him, your tongue moving around on the underside of his dick every time you suck up to the tippy top.

The sucks and strokes to his length become a little faster, and it’s here that Toji can’t concentrate on the television. Subtle twitches of his leg result from the hummed moan you express while taking him to the hilt. The vibrations that resonate along the inner walls of your throat are felt. It feels so good. And the tongue of yours? Fuck. His brows trench down when your tongue licks from the bottom of his ridge to the frenulum, giving his cockhead an onslaught of rough licks and kisses that has Toji exhale through his nose. “Hmmnn, fuck…Y/n, baby, y’re so good at this…Uhghh!”

You release his tip with a soft ‘plop’ with a string of saliva connecting your lips to his spit-covered cock. “Ahahhn, really?” Oh, fucking shit, don’t look at him like that. Your hooded eyes peering up at him with a soft smile while your hands maintain a stroking rhythm that has Toji squirm around your grasp. And then you surprise him with a grasp of his ballsack, oh you’re a devilish cutie. “That makes me happy to know,” you give him a giggle when Toji involuntarily bucks to your hands; the veiny limb contrasting with your pretty fingers is such a sight to see. The pulsating commotion between your legs progresses more by the second.

More dangerous licks paired with the massage to his balls as Toji huff is bliss. “Ahhh, sh–shit…Ya like how my dick tastes, mama?”

Taking his cock back into your mouth with alluringly half-lidded eyes is the answer you give him, your lips covering your teeth as your jaw relaxes to welcome his neither limb back inside your warm oral cavity. The suction of your hallow cheeks became lethal with the increased speed, your tongue now swirling around him and creating such deviant noises that only Toji focuses on despite the television vices failing to drown them out.

Holy shit, Toji wasn’t expecting this kind of treatment at all. This was downright out of the water from all the other oral ordeals he’s had in his life. How the fuck were you so good at this!? Cupping his balls while slurping his dick was such a dangerous combo; Toji doesn’t know how long he’ll contain the urge to stand and fuck your face here and now. Goddamn, the faster you bob your lips on him, the shiver down his spine is hard to ignore. His hips jerking to your mouth; he wants to fuck your face so bad. And just looking at your ass sway while you suck on him, he knows you’re enjoying this as well.

It reaches a point where he can’t take it anymore — he wants to go faster and harder. So Toji grabs your head as he stands up and dials the tempo to a harsher motion, propelling your lips down to his pelvis. And you’re quick not to panic, being sure to breathe when Toji smacks his testicles to your chin and ruts into your face and throat with no mercy. Toji moans at the sensation of your gummy walls wrapping around his length, hissing at your muffled wails as he hits the back of your throat. “Fsshhh—Hnngh!! Fuckin’ shit, just like that, mama, just like that…Ohhggh!”

You can feel the veins on his girth pulsate, indicating that his release is soon coming. The thrusts to your face get erratically faster, so you’re sure to grab onto his sweatpants to make sure you don’t lose balance as he spills his load down your throat. Ending it with a few rough hits to your lips, Toji groans with gritted teeth, shaky, strong legs pumping his semen for you to drink, which you merrily take with muzzled squeals on his shaft. The both of you experience the last moment of this euphoric high until Toji’s body calms down, heavy breaths going slower with every expel. He gives you a few moments to suck him off a little more before removing himself from you, gradually pulling his length, quivering with the aftershocks at the dismissal of your warm walls around him. And he jolts when you tease him with one last lick to the sensitive tip.

“Hahhh, damn, cutie,” Toji takes a seat back on the couch, eyeing you down with a weary smirk and furrowed brows. “Since when did ya like to get down and dirty?”

You sheepishly smile back and avert your eyes down, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m glad you liked it, Toji.”

“Sure as hell did,” he bends down to grab your chin and bring you in for a kiss. The squeaks you let out when he bites your lips are too adorable and hot to his ears. “Want me to eat you out, sweet thing?”

“Really?” God, you were too cute — beaming at him like that with such a lovely smile.

“Sure thing. Besides, I saw the way you were movin' that ass while suckin’ me off. So, I got you,” Toji takes off his sweatpants, moving his legs to be on the couch entirely. His dick is still standing erect, and he gives you a suggestive grin before tapping his chest, a sign for you to get ready and sit on him. “Only if ya can do that shit on me again.” The request takes you aback for a minute, but you chuckle and stand up. You remove your bottoms and underwear, and Toji notices the wet spot on the material.

Again, Toji is never one to be given oral. But if he’s going to be treated like this, you might be able to change his mind.

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x-xouroborosx-x · 4 months ago

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Dark Lucifer Sigil Hoodie, Occult Graphic Sweatshirt, Unisex Devil Worship Clothing

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#xxouroborosxx#etsy#etsystore#pagan#occult#wicca#magic#hoodie#satanism#satanic

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propertyofwicked · 6 months ago

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QUIET - LN

max comes home early as lando finds himself in a compromising position with his best friends little sister

-> can be read as standalone of part 2 for first !!

warnings: smut!! MDNI!! bathroom mirror sex, unprotected, somewhat rough but otherwise quite sweet <3

masterlist the playlist

“what if max hears?” the girl asked panicked as lando kissed her roughly, pushing her into the bathroom.

“he’s out, we got time,” he reassured her before kissing down her neck, sucking harshly at the skin of her collar bone as he backed the two of them up against the countertop. her head rolled back granting him more access to her skin. his fingers ran up her skin, toying with the hem of her top before pulling it over her head - he had never been more grateful that she’d foregone wearing a bra today as he watched the way her breasts pulled up with the fabric before dropping back, bouncing slightly.

lando’s lips attached to the skin of her breast, continuing to mark the skin with bruises in his wake, his hand grabbed at the flesh, squeezing at it harshly.

“so perfect,” he mumbled, though y/n was unsure if he was speaking to her, or the nipple that he placed his mouth, running his tongue along it. either way, she let out a breathless moan of his name, her hands reaching to clutch at his curls.

“need you now,” she whined, pulling at his hair for him to rise back to her level, their lips met again, tongues and teeth clashing with the impact.

“so impatient,” he said into her mouth, a hand settled at the base of her neck, squeezing lightly before dropping back to her waist to turn her around. her eyes rolled up, looking at herself in the mirror.

he had her bent over in front of him, ass pushed into his hardening bulge as he fought with the drawstring of her shorts. eventually, he had ridded them both of clothing and was pushing his length into her with little warning - it was slow, but the stretch was unbearable.

“fuck, lan,” she moaned, her head dropping to look at the sink from the feeling.

“eyes on me,” he told her, before setting into a brutal pace as he watched the way her mouth fell open slightly and her eyes fluttered open. her hips bashed against the cold marble of the counter with every thrust, but sensing her discomfort, lando’s hands reached around, settling on the skin of her hips to create a barrier.

lando reached around her to grab her jaw and tip her head back to look at herself in the mirror, the angle causing his cock to hit a deeper spot. he was panting, his voice straining at the feeling of her tightening around him before loosening over and over again.

“you like watching me fuck you?” he asked her, loosening the grip on her jaw to let his rough fingers trail down her body, finally settling on her clit but remaining still allowing his thrusts to push her hips into his fingers.

“more, lan, please,” she whined, watching the way he smirked as she caught on to his teasing.

“so greedy,” he groaned, “so good f’me.”

his fingers ran circles around her clit, their eyes connected through the mirror as she watched herself fall apart around him. y/n felt the familiar waves of pleasure creep up on her, knowing she wouldn’t last much longer. despite knowing he could feel the way her slick coated his length, soaked his fingers and her walls clamped tighter around him, she opened her move to tell him she was close, but in the moment of silence her ears perked up at the sound of a car moving on the driveway. she stayed quiet for a moment, half silenced by the disruption, but mostly by the way lando’s hand pushed her back down, as she arched up into his palm and her cheek rested on the countertop.

“lan, ma- max is home,” she told him, recognising the sound of his footsteps on the gravel and his keychain jingling as he unlocked the front door. though it was pointless, his thrusts remained relentless, pushing deep into her despite his rushed pace - she moaned at the feeling, still trying to push herself up and away at the thought of her brother returning.

“gonna have to be quiet f’me angel - you think you can do that?” he asked her, almost patronisingly. and even though she doubted she could keep quiet as his cock ruined her, she nodded, feeling the way her cheek moved easily against the counter where it lay.

y/n managed to stay quiet for a moment, though lando had accepted max’s unexpected return as a challenge. his hand returned to her clit, using her slick to draw deep circles into the flesh and watching as the pressure on her heat and his cock hitting the same spot repeatedly drove her wild. her eyes had shut tightly, her mouth clamped shut for a moment before her whimpers intensified.

“shush, angel - you don’t want max to walk in and see you bent over the sink for me, do you?” he asked her, albeit knowing she wouldn’t responded. y/n whined quietly at his rough words, her hips rolling back into his slightly - however this was her mistake, as feeling the way lando’s cock hit deeper into her and the way his free hand pressed tightly against her lower stomach had her mouth dropping open, a loud, breathless moan ready to escape.

“or maybe you do?” he teased, loving the way she fell apart around him, struggling to contain herself.

“c-can’t,” she stuttered out.

“that’s ok angel, you want me to help?” he asked her, waiting for her hastened nod, before the hand on her stomach freed itself and pulled at the roots of hair, her entire body lifted with it and fell to rest against his chest. though he wasn’t done yet, the hand freeing her hair moved along her skin teasingly before settling on her face, covering her mouth shut in it’s entirety. his eyes met hers in the mirror, watching as they rolled backwards as he thrust into her. he felt the way she tightened around him again, though this time never letting up her grip around his cock. lando watched as her head rolled back to rest on his shoulder, and felt the way her body started to feel heavy around him.

“you gonna cum for me?” lando asked her quietly, whispering in her ear that his lips rested on, he felt her head nod, the hand over her mouth moving with it, “cum for me angel.”

waves of pleasure took over her entire body, her mind consumed with thoughts about him, and the way he held her body as she shook around him. as she rode out her high, the grip holding her upright slipped, letting her body fall back over to rest on the counter. he thrusted into her a few more times before pulling himself out quickly, grabbing at his length and letting ropes of cum spurt out onto the bare skin of her back as he panted.

their breathing slowed gradually, returning to normal as he cleaned them up.

“you ok?” he asked her, cautious to speak low in case max was nearby, but growing concerned at the way her face seemed void of any thought or feeling.

she nodded at him, still catching her breath as she pulled her top back on, he halted her movement, grabbing at her wrist to force her to stop and raising an eyebrow at her.

“im fine lan,” she told him, a smile finally falling on her lips, “just sore,” she added with a wink before pressing her lips to kiss in a short but sweet kiss.

“Y/N? are you in the bathroom?” max shouted, the two of them tensing before sighing in relief that he was still downstairs.

her fingers moved to open the door, poking her head around it before replying with a quick yeah! why? do you need me for something?

she glanced back at lando, seeing him now clothed and moving his way to wrap his arms around her from behind.

“can you come have a look in the fridge and see what you want for dinner?” max replied, still bellowing up the stairs from where he stood in the kitchen.

“ill be down in a second,” she called back, before turning to face lando whos face wore a dopey smile as he looked down at her, “i suggest you run back to your room now before max catches you.”

“good plan,” he agreed, hands grabbing her face before pressing a series of kisses to her forehead, cheeks and lips and darting off across the hallway. he glanced back at y/n in the bathroom, watching the way she spun around, checking herself from every angle in the mirror he had just brutally fucked her in front of. and as though their thoughts had synced up, lando watched the way her blush rose on her cheeks as she turned to meet his eyes again, the smile still etched on her face.

✧ my inbox is open <3 (even if u just wanna have a chat) ✧

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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papaya-twinks · 2 months ago

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Lando really wanting you to get pregnant so he stuffs you so full of his cum... amd dose not let any spill out...🫠

Warnings: Smut, 18+ pregnancy, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

You’d were sitting on the sofa, yours eyes closed as you gently took one of Lando’s curls between your fingers, unrolling it, before letting it bounce back into shape again. Lando’s had his palm flat on your belly, his other fingers tracing round his hand slowly.

“What’re you thinking?” you asked, voice soft as Lando stared at your tummy, eyelashes fluttering. “You’d look good pregnant,” he said, his voice muffled into your side as you paused your hands in his hair, looking at Lando with wide eyes.

“You think I’m just gonna magically appear pregnant?” you said, making Lando look up, his hand stopping on your tummy. “You asking me to get you pregnant?” he asked, a small smirk dancing on his lips as you blushed a little.

“Maybe,” you said, as Lando sat up, pulling your body onto his lap, and dipping his head to kiss and nip at your neck. You gasped as Lando pushed you onto your back, your head bouncing against the pillow as Lando pulled your legs round his waist.

“Gonna fill you up,” Lando said, pulling you into a messy kiss, his tongue pressing to your lips, begging for entrance. You complied, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth as he worked on pulling your skirt up, his other hand undoing the drawstrings of his joggers.

His cock sprung up hard against your thigh, your core burning with pleasure just at the sight of his leaking tip, throbbing and sore. “Need you in me,” you said, eyes wide as he ran his head through your folds, brushing over your clit.

“Yeah? You’re needy,” Lando said, pushing himself into you as you moaned, head falling back against the arm rest, his member pushing and stretching you open. Your nails dug into Lando’s shoulders, scratching red lines down his back as he groaned.

He kept himself in you for a few seconds, letting you adjust, before he started to rock his hips, his dick sliding in and out of you. “Oh fuck,” you choked out, one of his hands coming to apply slight pressure to your neck as he rocked his hips.

His thumb went down between your bodies to circle your clit, applying light pressure as his other hand tangled in your ear. “Fuck, Lando, right there,” you choked out, breath hitching as he nodded. “There?” he asked, angling his body so he hit the same spot again and again.

You could feel yourself coming close, Lando’s lips brushing the shell of your ear, his words filthy and lewd. “Gonna fill you up,” he mumbled, his voice low as the sound of his hips on yours echoed in the room.

“You’d look so pretty with my baby, won’t you?” he asked, titling your chin to him so he could smash his lips to yours. “Gonna c-cum,” he groaned, his voice dropping an octave, full of passion as he held one hand in your hair, speeding up, his thrusts sloppier and sloppier by the second.

Your eyes rolled back as your orgasms hit simultaneously, his cum pumping into your core as he slid his cock out so his head with hanging in your entrance, before he moved his hips back into you, pushing his cum back into your heat. “Oh fuck,” you gasped as he pushed your body back.

“Stay like this,” Lando said, his voice commanding and stern as he lifted your legs over his shoulders holding you still. Not a single drop of cum dropped down your legs as he held you there, brushing your hair off your face, a think layer of sweat coating his chest.

It didn’t take more than a few weeks til that test showed two lines.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris x you #lando x reader #f1 #lando norris smut

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machveil · 10 days ago

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CoD Headcanon: Fashion

let me info dump on how I think the CoD men would dress, pretty puh-lease? Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, Simon “Ghost” Riley, John “Soap” MacTavish, John Price, Gary “Roach” Sanderson, Keegan Russ, and König

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

actually wanted to make this post because of him, “Thank you, Kyle.”, we all say in unison

I oh so desperately think he dresses so casually it looks clean as fuck. he’s definitely the best dressed out of the 141, in my opinion. going for groceries? meeting up at a pub? Kyle looks great! also, bottom left photo? holding true to the board, I firmly believe Kyle has totes - different colors, some with logos, a couple well used and loved. totes and caps, Kyle has a nice collection

my fun little headcanon is that Kyle will match his outfits to whatever hat or tote he plans on using for the day. and he has a wardrobe to match - t-shirts, button ups, jumpers, turtlenecks, Kyle has variety. a lot of them are gifts from his family (who have his fashion sense down to a science). his aunts and uncles definitely pay the most attention to what Kyle’s wearing whenever they see him, they never miss when buying him new jeans or shoes

Simon “Ghost” Riley:

as fearsome and intimidating as Ghost is, draped in military gear and holsters, Simon prefers to be comfortable. a majority of his civvies are for his comfort, soft and warm jumpers that bag a little. he keeps it simple, his signature black clothes are really the only thing that carries over from service. that said, I think he’d look good in brown too. still a noticeably darker color compared to most, but it gives a nice contrast to his usual monotone look

it might seem counterintuitive to wear long sleeves when he’s had all this tattoo work done on his arms - fair enough - but I don’t think Simon necessarily cares to show them off. he has his fair share of t-shirts, but he really only wears them when it’s exceptionally warm out. that, or Simon has them on as an undershirt at the gym, hidden beneath his black hoodies. does the 141 poke fun at him for dressing nearly all black every time they see him? yes they do, does Simon care? no, he’s a sucker for a dark aesthetic

John “Soap” MacTavish:

Johnny dresses like he’s ready to go to the gym, but it’s why we love him. I swear, it could be freezing outside and Johnny would be wearing short, he’s definitely one of those people, “Hm? Nah, m’not cold.”, he’s actively trying to not let his teeth chatter. Johnny loves a good hoodie, especially if they have drawstrings - this man has an oral fixation, let him chew on those strings, damnit! oftentimes the drawstrings on his hoodies are fucked up and thready because he’ll absentmindedly nosh on them

I’m not afraid to say he’s the closest on this whole headcanon post to dressing like Adam Sandler - there’s definitely been times he wore the rattiest clothes ever outside and people mistook him for being homeless. the nicest thing he’ll consider wearing out is a t-shirt, zip-up hoodie, and jeans. I think Johnny’s a little nose blind to his own scent, sometimes he’ll think a hoodie is clean but he forgot he sweated his ass off in it two days ago at the gym. puts it on because… well, it just smells like him, surely it doesn’t reek

John Price:

I had such a hard time finding photos that matched my thoughts, but when I found them? oh, these matched. I’d like to call Price’s look “blue collar husband comes home after work” - do we get that vibe? simple man, he likes his blue jeans and a plain shirt. has a wide variety of nice, leather belts though, the only bit of his wardrobe he really splurges on. the simplest out of the 141, but he cleans up nicely with just a shirt and some jeans that hug his thighs just right

he’s a fan of t-shirts, the fact they show off his biceps is purely coincidence. he low-key dresses like a dad, but he rocks the look. he’s definitely the type to have vintage leather jackets, beat up, brown coats that are durable. they’ve seen better days, were new and shiny once, but John likes them a little weathered and worn. he’s not beating the bucket hat allegations

Gary “Roach” Sanderson:

I’d love to say ‘I don’t make the rules’, but I do. I’m putting my foot down and saying Gary dresses like this. he always wears a white t-shirt, is it the same one? does he have dozens? who knows! he’ll causally swap between pants and shorts, whichever is appropriate for the weather. button ups, he owns so many. never buttons them, just wears them open over his t-shirts. it’s casual, but the simplicity of it unironically makes his outfit look super clean

Gary will dress this way until the day he dies. it’s just how he dresses, no variation unless there’s an important event - holidays, an army shindig, I dunno, a wedding (if he could, he’d show up in his usual civvies). you would have to beg Gary to try a different style, he’s silently stubborn about it. he doesn’t make a fuss if you buy him a hoodie or sweater, just know he’ll throw a quiet strike by tucking it into the back of his closet

Keegan Russ:

biblically accurate Keegan Russ is a biker, what can I say. two words: leather jackets. he likes the aesthetic, owns a handful - hand-me-downs, thrifted, vintage, new. a majority of his wardrobe is black, I personally think his favorite color is blue, but he enjoys wearing black more. he likes wearing t-shirts, purposefully showing off his well-trained arms. he really only owns jeans, maybe a pair of nice slacks

you know what? gonna be honest, not much to add on, I just think Keegan is hot and would wear this haha. it’s nothing flashy, but if you’re into bikers it’s definitely eye catching. on another note, I think he’d paint his nails matte black. do I have any reasoning? no, I just think he would, or maybe just a clear coat. that, and he definitely wears silver rings. not all the time, but he does wear them on occasion

König:

if König isn’t in fatigues he still looks blatantly military. now, I didn’t include it in the board, but he has way too many pairs of khaki cargo pants. like an absurd amount - imagine a reasonable number of cargo pants and then add ten more pairs. back to the board, man cannot escape camouflage and green in general. whether it’s pants, shirts, or sweaters, König has it in some shade of green

otherwise, he actually enjoys itchy, scratchy sweaters. you know the kind that makes your skin red after wearing it a little too long? König eats that up, for whatever reason it feels nice to him. course, he does have standard, comfortable sweaters and hoodies. it’s a bit of a hassle to find clothes in his size though, sure they make them big, but König would appreciate if they were more fit to his build than overly baggy. lucky for him, his mama was a seamstress and taught him how to sew - he adjusts his clothing as he sees fit (he’ll still grumble about it though)

manifesting just one CoD man into being so I can play dress up with them🎀✨pretty please, I just wanna make him look so good - Soap and Roach might put up a fight though…

thanks for reading my behemoth of a post<3 hugs and kiss🌸✨

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katsu28 · 8 months ago

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lucky charm

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando finds comfort in your presence as doubt starts to creep in before a race (2k)

warnings: minimal swearing

a/n: hi i know i'm still super new here and i'm not even sure if i'm actually going to start writing rpf but i think about this motherfucker 24/7 now and this came to me in a dream <3 let's ignore the actual way he got his ring necklace okay? okay!

“No one saw you come in, right?”

Lando let the door close behind him gently, a total opposite to the quickest few steps you’d ever seen him take across the small driver’s room, and he leaned over to kiss you, hard.

You let out a squeak of surprise at the force of it, but had no hesitation in kissing him back as soon as your body caught up with your brain, arms looping around his neck to bring him down and closer to you.

Lando’s knees hit the cushions on either side of you, hands doing the same on the leather backrest, clumsy as all hell but twice as determined not to let his mouth leave yours.

Your fingers knocked the McLaren cap right off his head as they moved into his hair, clutching at his chocolate curls on instinct like you’d done so many times before. But never here, never before one of Lando’s races, and certainly never at the risk of being caught by anyone in the facility at any given moment.

It didn’t seem to matter to Lando, though, with the way he was kissing you like he was parched and you were the only thing that could quench his thirst.

But given the rather frantic series of texts you’d received from him that got you here in the first place, you weren’t at all too surprised. You knew how nervous Lando got before races, and if there was something you could do, you’d never hesitate to be there for him. Especially since you were able to make it to this one.

“Yeah,” He mumbled between kisses, panting against your lips. Somehow he’d managed to switch positions so he was the one on the sofa now and you were sitting on his lap, straddling his hips as you continued your rather sloppy makeout session. “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. ‘M sneaky like that.”

“Had a lot of practice at this, have you?”

“No!” It was almost comical how fast he pulled away from you to blurt out his answer. “No, not at all. I don’t know why I said that, I—”

“I was just kidding, bub.” You chuckled, smoothing the pad of your thumb across his kiss-swollen bottom lip fondly. Lando grinned sheepishly, giving your waist a playful little pinch. You’d never get over the way he looked at you, like you were the only other person to exist in the world—especially when he was under you like this, and especially with those eyes. His baby cow eyes, you always called them.

Even so, Lando was extremely tense, you could tell. He tended to get very in his head before races, probably why he asked you to come meet him so close to the green flag, to help him quell his nerves a little. He always said you helped him more than anything else ever could.

“I have something for you.” You said softly.

“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” He leaned back against the cushion, happily accepting the chaste kiss you pressed to his lips before you bounced off his lap and over to where your bag was sitting.

You rummaged around in it for a few moments until you found what you were looking for, a triumphant grin on your face as you made your way back over to an intrigued Lando. This time you settled next to him, throwing your legs across his lap. His hand came to rest on your knee immediately.

“Open it.” You urged, pressing the small black bag into his waiting palm. He undid the drawstring carefully, beaming even before he got a look at what was inside. That smile only grew bigger as he poured the contents of the bag into his hand.

A thin silver chain, joined together at the ends with two interlocking rings, sleek and silver just like the rest of the necklace. Upon closer inspection, he saw numbers etched into the inside of each one. One of them, Lando recognized instantly as the date of your anniversary. The other looked like a set of coordinates, but he wasn’t too great at geography, so he looked to you for an explanation.

“The place we first met.”

“You looked up the coordinates of that tiny little restaurant? Nerd.” He chuckled, artfully dodging the swat you aimed his way at his teasing remark.

“It could be, like, your new lucky charm or something.” You shrugged, watching him turn the rings around carefully between his fingers.

Lando glanced up, bumping your shoulder with his gently. “I’ve already got one.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s you.”

“Me?”

“I like knowing you’re watching me. Even though I can’t see you, or even if you’re not here, knowing I’ve got you cheering me on from wherever you are helps. I think it makes me a better driver.”

“Lan, you’re already a great driver.. You don’t need me for you to know that.”

“I know. I just—it keeps me focused. To know you’re there.” He said softly, giving your hand a tight squeeze. “And now with this, I can have a piece of you with me whenever. Here, help me put it on.”

“You can’t wear it under your suit, Lando, even I know that.”

“Alright, well, I’ll figure it out later. C’mon, put it on me.” Lando leaned forward, giving you space to bring the chain up over his head and around his neck. He even managed to sneak in another kiss whilst you followed the silver down to where the rings rested just below his collarbones. Your fingers stroked at the warm skin there, the cold of the metal contrasting.

“It looks good on you.”

Lando melted like a popsicle on a hot summer day under your touch, smiling so big at you that you could hardly believe this was the same boy who had other drivers trembling in their fireproofs. He hoisted you back into his lap effortlessly, nosing at your pulse point a bit before smacking a kiss to your cheek when you wrapped your arm around his shoulders. “You look good on me.”

“That was so bad. Like, really bad. I get why they call you Lando Norizz now.”

“What?! Bad? That was so fucking smooth!” He huffed, going from looking completely smitten to entirely offended. “And I happen to have lots of rizz, thank you very much. I practically ooze rizz, love.”

“I take it back.” You replied solemnly, patting Lando’s cheek. “That was worse.”

“You’re so mean to me. I don’t know why I even put up with this harassment!”

“Always so dramatic, you.”

“I’ve got to be! How else would I be able to withstand this abuse?”

You scoffed playfully and moved to climb off him, opting to keep a safe enough distance away so you wouldn’t be tempted to kiss him stupid. Then he’d really be late. “Don’t you have a race to prepare for, driver boy?”

“I am,” He said earnestly, tucking his hands behind his head. You arched a skeptical brow, hands propped on your hips.

“By hiding out in here with me?”

“You know what they say—calm the mind, and the body will follow.”

“I’ve literally never heard anyone say that.”

“Well maybe people should start!”

You huffed out an amused chuckle, crossing your arms. “Are you ready?”

A sudden silence blanketed the tiny room, Lando’s non response giving you all you needed to know.

He reached out for you with a pout that you’d never been quite able to resist, fingers beckoning you back over longingly, like you were too far away for his liking. You gave in almost immediately despite previously wanting to give him space, trudging over with an overexaggerated roll of your eyes and letting yourself be pulled back onto his lap yet again.

“I’ll be alright.” He answered finally, taking your hand in his. He fiddled with your fingers, tracing along each digit languidly and then circling his thumb over your palm—once, twice, a third time.

This, something you’d learned quite early on in your relationship with Lando, was one of his many versions of self-soothing. The repetition of his actions proved rather calming to him, and it certainly helped that he got to feel your skin against his.

His brows drew together in thought, furrowed and tense until you pushed your thumb into the wrinkle between them, smoothing out the scrunch. He wrapped his fingers around your wrist loosely.

“You’re gonna do great, you know.” You insisted.

He offered you as good of a smile as he could muster. “Yeah. I know.”

“You’re gonna do your best, and whatever happens, you’ve got so many people who’ll be proud of you no matter what.”

“I don’t know if it’s enough.” Lando blurted, scratching at a patch on his suit. “I’ve been racing for years, and I still have no wins to show for it. It’s not fair to my team, it’s not fair to the fans. It’s not fair to you. You shouldn’t have to have a boyfriend who can’t fucking drive for shit.”

“Lando, I’m not with you because of your job.” You said shortly, pressing your lips into a thin, unamused line. “And quite frankly, I feel hurt that you could even think I was.”

Lando was quick to soothe, shaking his head frantically. He took both your hands in his, squeezing. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry, it’s just—I get in my head a lot. And I start to overthink, and shit comes out of my mouth that I don’t mean. I know you’re not like that, I do. I’m sorry.”

You softened, sighing. “You could never win a race, ever, and I'd still love you all the same.”

He snorted. “Well, I’d like to win one at some point.”

“What I meant was, I can’t speak for everyone else, but my pride for you has nothing to do with how well you do on the track, my love.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m proud of you because you’re you. You’re kind and you work hard, and you try your best at everything you do. Even if the outcome isn’t what you expected, you keep at it. You keep going. That’s one of the reasons why I love you, that’s why I’m so proud of you.”

“I’m stupid.” He groaned, tipping his head back against the couch cushions. You simply made a noise of agreement. “You’re too good to me. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now, you really need to go back to the garage. I’m sure Oscar’s sent out a search party for you at this point.” You said firmly, giving his chest a sharp poke. Lando groaned again but made to get up, shifting your legs off him so he could climb to his feet.

“Fine. Just kick me out of my own room, why don’t you?” He huffed dramatically, swiping his hat off the floor and jamming it back over his hair. You aimed a fake kick towards him, stifling a giggle when he caught your foot and pretended to undo your laces. “Kiss?”

“You need to leave, Lando,” You whined, batting him away gently. “I refuse to be the reason you’re late.”

“One more. Just one more for good luck and I promise I’ll leave.” He insisted, expression pleading. You grumbled something unintelligible, reaching up begrudgingly to bring him down for one last kiss.

Lando smiled against your lips, snaking a hand around the back of your neck to keep you in place a few beats longer than you intended. You practically had to unstick yourself from him, giving him a little shove towards the door so he’d actually leave.

Immediately, he whirled around. “Wait, wait—”

“Lando! Go!”

“No, no, hold on, it’s important.” He slipped his newfound chain over his head, rubbing his thumb over both rings before holding it out towards you. “Keep this safe for me?” He asked earnestly, pressing the necklace into your hands. “Can’t have my lucky charm getting lost already, can I?”

“Give ‘em hell, number four.” You smiled, donning the necklace yourself. He beamed, blowing you a kiss as he backpedaled down the hall. "Number four on the track, number one in my heart!"

You could hear his infectious laughter echoing even as he retreated around the corner.

Lando would be fine. And if he wasn’t, he’d bounce back, like he always did. And you’d be there to support him every step of the way, like you always were.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 x reader #ln4 #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #lando norris one shot

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nouearth · 4 months ago

Text

dancing with wolves.

pairing. glen powell x male reader.

word count. 8.8k.

summary. journeying from town to town provided glen a solitude he’d always dreamed of. however, since meeting you, it was all he could complain about.

content warning. smut, western!au, top!glen, yearning!glen, loner!glen, bottom!reader, prostitute!reader, love confession, established relationship, passionate love-making, gagging, deep-throating, handjob (r!receiving), blowjob (r!giving), spanking, overstimulation, milking, anal penetration, breeding.

Cases of whiskey and cider were stacked in a column of two. Six units per beverage, twelve in total as Glen triple-checked the count and label. Though he’d never made a mistake in his deliveries before, it was his vigilance that maintained his good repute amongst the townsfolk. His attentiveness and efficiency in deliveries allowed for trust to be built between him and the towns he’d distribute to.

Months and more, the head of these establishments he’d work with didn’t seem to mind Glen’s uptight and reserved nature. Rather, they were used to it. Penned him as ‘Gunpowder’ because of their inability to see through him, as if the smoke from deflagrated gunpowder had impaired their vision.

As long as the goods were delivered in mint condition, who was to complain that the brooding man marched right on out after receiving his payment without uttering a single word?

Not to mention, his sturdy build was a warning itself to those who’d dared.

“Nearly doubled the shipment from last time.” It was an observation noted to himself. A low mutter that the owner of the saloon caught with a smile, because frankly, the mustached man was known to run the folk’s ears off.

There was a reason why he owned a saloon, and not Glen.

He dropped his payment into his drawstring bag and tucked it into the inside pocket of his shirt. Crime was growing rampant, even in a bustling town like New Vale where a dust storm couldn’t ward off its folks from drinking into the night. Glen wasn’t sure what to make of it. Whether to call them idiots for ignoring the highly alarming signs of bandits gradually killing their way to the west, or brave for living their lives without a single regret.

One would’ve had the same vacillation between labeling Glen as an idiot or a man, for traveling 40 miles and more in his saddle, while the threat of murders loomed over his head. “God damn, I did! Business been growin’ ever since we’d expanded to include the whores. The fellas can’t keep their hands off of them!” Glen’s ears pricked up from the way the shorter man described the main attraction to his saloon. The man was practically ascending to heaven, tugging on the straps of his suspenders to ground him to the wooden flooring while he boasted about how much of a brilliant man he was for charging patrons by the hour, and taking a percentage of a prostitute’s pay.

All Glen could do was watch in stoic disgust while the man relished in his own pride, in his own greed.

Though, only for a few seconds before a feeling of guilt and shame took over Glen’s conscious, calling him out on his hypocrisy, on this selfish desire that all the men in the saloon had collectively shared.

He wasn’t much of a better man than the drunkard swaying in his seat, completely shit-faced with a shot glass in his grasp.

Glen tucked his hands into his pockets, leaned to the man’s ear, and lowered his voice to a hush. “The boy in today?”

Coincidentally, he felt a spare coin in his left pocket. The silver ridges scorched his skin like it had come straight from the devil’s fountain, prodding his urges.

“Should be cleaning out back, but I’ll let ‘em know you’re here. You know his room.” The man collected the single coin with a smug grin and tipped his hat. “Nice doing business with ya, and… get y’self a drink. On the house. I’m beginning to treasure your presence.” The march of his steps out to the back were resonant, even with the ragged rhythm of the piano blaring in Glen’s ears as he walked for the stairs.

- - -

The room was left as Glen remembered it.

The thin walls closed in on the oil lamps mounted on the walls. It didn’t take much to light up the room. As bright as candles could be lit, it only emphasized how truly compact the space was. Glen couldn’t imagine that no more than two men could be comfortable standing in this lodging, let alone reside in it. Luckily, Glen was a simple man. He hung his coat on the wall and took his boots off, a much needed relief from the compression at his feet, and he felt satisfied sitting on the miserable mattress. Not from the space, no. Not when he could hear other patrons like him revel in their own pleasure, albeit muffled by the thin walls.

No. It was because he got to see his boy again. Twice a month, like how it had been for almost a year now, and Glen could feel the two weeks of labor thanking him as a huge weight seemingly lifted off his shoulders.

Traveling from town to town and shipping out whiskey and cider didn’t take much of a toll on his body like herding cattle, but it was uninspiring. Sight-seeing was tranquil, but the sun was beating down on him harder this month. It was tiring. Always on his saddle, on his feet, and now with the threat of robberies ramping, on the defensive, all without so much of a break.

It was lonely.

And though it was his own fault, it made the moment of seeing his boy all the more special.

Touching you was even more cathartic than he’d like to admit.

Two hard knocks, a beat, then three more, and the door opened.

“You sleepin’ already, Bighorn?” You teased, chuckling to yourself when you could see Glen rise from his position as you locked the door.

Bighorn. The endearment made Glen chuckle.

Glen watched you come into the light as his elbows supported his body, legs extended to stretch the tight muscles in his thighs and calves. A button-up and suspenders, your typical attire as a novice cook. It had to be illegal to look this striking in hand-me-downs covered in flour.

“A second longer, and I would’ve demanded for a refund.” Glen quipped with a simple grin. It was all natural, his body responding to your approach by gathering himself onto his feet. You worked him in mysterious ways. Every step you took, Glen met you half-way.

Yearn weighted Glen’s heart to match the heaviness of your boots scraping against the floor until you stopped. He stopped in his tracks after, your wide smile reflecting off of his simpler grin, and Glen remained silent, taking you all in with the removal of his hat.

It wasn’t the first time his eyes ever tracked a man, nor was it the first time his heart ever sped up, but you had this power, this presence, that made him feel anew with the way you looked at him. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your chest close to his own.

Surely, he knew he wasn’t going crazy feeling like his affection for you had shot up like a bull for the past month. And the month before that.

And the month before that.

“And I would’ve made it up by makin’ sure you get the best sleep of your life. How’s that sound?” You met his eye level, unabashedly smiling wider than you had ever greeted him before.

He felt flat, like he’d been hit by the train itself. A sharp jolt that sent goosebumps all over his skin, and it was like you read into his soul, because your hands roamed around his body, warding off the tiny prickles over his skin with a caress to his broad chest, over his forearms, against his neck.

It didn’t take long for Glen to realize you were the curator of the bumps on his skin.

“Sounds like an overpromise...” Glen chuckled along with you, his larger hands feeling up your waist, backside, then to your arse, where they felt perfectly at home in his palms. His gaze was just as curious, peeking at the collar of your shirt that revealed the smallest amount of your neck. To your lips, marveling over ruby flesh he’d often daydream about while riding across the plains.

It was becoming a routine. Where the weeks leading up to the end the month felt like the world had a vengeance against you, and this month was surely taking out its worst out on you.

“You got a haircut.” Glen noticed the shorter length of your hair, pushing it back with a swoop of his hand. He then took ahold of your jaw, maneuvering it cheek by cheek to stoically marvel over your cut.

“Was gettin’ hot. Boss man didn’t like how it collected sweat.” Your fingers worked around his collar, unfurling the fold, then folding it back into place. “You like it?”

“I can see your face clearer. You look good.” Glen’s fingers raked through your hair once before messily ruffling it. You responded with a shove to his chest, knocking him back onto the bed with an unexpected laugh. “Guess I didn’t need to worry about whether you were eating or not. Christ, you gettin’ stronger too.”

A dull ache settled in his chest. He wanted to say something more than, “You look good.”

No, it fit you. The trimmed hairs on the sides matched how blunt you could be.

“You bring any gifts for me?”

“You’re sweaty, and that makes me aroused.”

“You pushing 40. That only makes me want you even more.”

“No one can fill my mouth like you do, Glen.”

On the contrary, it also framed your face like you were an angel who didn’t spout nonsense that would render him speechless. Though, he’d gotten used to that now. It made you all the more endearing, how someone could look as passive as you, have a mouth like that.

“Bastard’s been pushing more tasks onto me since business been growing. Same pay too. Man is too cheap to hire another employee. Don’t think I look any different though.” It took all the energy out of him to not sigh when you straddled his lap. He was swelling nicely beneath you, harder and thicker the more you rut your arse against him. “Or… maybe you’re just getting weaker?”

Glen rolled his eyes. “Don’t get so cocky, boy. Wouldn’t want me to beat it out of you, would you?” Your breath hitched when his palm struck down on your left ass cheek as a warning. It was effortlessly done, yet the subtle sting was more than enough to pull a groan out of you.

You brazened yourself, narrowing your eyes into his drawn gaze as you leaned closer, and pulled him halfway up by the collar. “Not if you call that a beatin’.” Your lips grazed against his, and just when Glen leaned closer, you pulled away and resumed your ruts, pushing your arse back onto his palms simultaneously.

“You gon’ regret that.” It was animalistic. The way you drove your hips into him, and the way Glen desperately responded back, groping your ass hard and pushing you flushed to his groin, to the weight of his bulge. He buried his groans into your neck, biting a patch of skin that would draw out whimpers in between your taunts.

“I ain’t regret nothin’-“ A loud yelp slipped from your mouth. His palm suddenly came down on your ass again. Harder, like the snap of lighting had bit into your skin. It shuddered you to think that it had hurt as much as it did while you were clothed. Yet, that didn’t stop you from unbuckling and drawing out your belt, and then Glen’s.

“That the best you got? Like a bee-sting. I ain’t impressed.” You muttered into his neck, kissing at the hot flush of skin after stripping you and Glen down to undergarments. Gradually, you worked his top off, licking and kissing every show of skin that would meet your lips, until he was deliciously bare-chested before you.

“I’ll break your damn ass if I have to.” Glen said through gritted teeth. His arms were folded behind his head, cushioning it while he watched your mouth worship every contour of his body like he was a king. Your mouth would latch onto one side of his ribs, suckling on a freckle, while the other admired his abdomen with several, drunken strokes. It took the trail of his stomach hair to pivot your mouth lower, to slip your hand into the opening of his drawers until it was inevitably full with Glen’s semi-hard cock, meaty and thick in your palm.

“You spendin’ the night?” Your ears perked up at the sound of his groans, your gaze followed the source. He was clearly desperate for more than the laze of your strokes as your grasp was loose and open, favoring to feel around his cock than against.

“That’s what I paid for.” His hips bucked once you began massaging his cock, throbbing harder in the palm of your hand.

“I’ll make sure it’s worthwhile, then.” With one hand continuing to knead at the tender muscle, you stripped the drawers off of his body, tossing it onto a pile of clothing in the corner.

“Look at me when you talkin’.” It came out more aggressive than he’d like it to, but your eyes lit up when he caught your gaze, a smoldering smile plastered across your face while you stroked him with your knees pressed to the mattress.

“You stressed or what? Don’t usually talk like this to me.” Stripping yourself bare, you resumed tending to his cock after, gulping at the unholy sight of the meaty tool drooling with a thick and ample amount of pre-cum that would surely stain the flooring if you hadn’t caught the sticky rope with your tongue.

You looked extra handsome tonight, Glen thought. Maybe it was the haircut working wonders on him. Making him act all crazy like he’d been bewitched. One strand of hair fell delicately over your forehead when you spat on his cock, and had your grasp around him not remind him, he would’ve forgotten to breathe.

“Just been thinking about my boy. Couldn’t stop thinking about you.” You lapped up his cock while he struggled to pour out his words. It was like molasses, the way he’d pause himself to say the right thing so he wouldn’t scare you. Coincidentally, you seemed to be enjoying the taste of his pre-cum like it was molasses as well, sucking it out him with sunken cheeks.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about filling that filthy mouth of yours with even more filth.” He hissed as you began tonguing his slit.

“Y’know how much I love the taste of your seed.” You dragged your tongue over the head, polishing it with several needy sucks, while your gaze maintained on his. One hand was wrapped around the shaft to hold Glen steady, and the other was cupped around his heavy balls, stretching and fondling the loose stretch of skin.

“I know. You like how it’s warm in your mouth, don’t you?” The grasp around his thick cock tightened. Fingers pressed into his veins, stroking the aroused muscle while your mouth worked on his glans, plump and swollen against your lips.

“And how salty it is. Taste better than your whiskey.” Sweat and musk had built up in the thick hairs of his pubic, in the crevice of his glans as you inhaled his scent. The smell of his cock made your own swollen unbearably hard.

“You like my cock too. Like how heavy it is on your tongue.” He had his fingers running through your hair, keeping any strands from obscuring your eyes as you watched him, just as he had been watching you.

“Nothing better than feelin’ my dirty mouth stretch because of the size of it. Can barely wrap my hands around your tool. My asshole struggles too, if not more.”

You loved sucking on the head. It was tender in your mouth, leaking with salt that made your tongue dance into the slit for more. It was beautiful to look at too. Every now and then, you’d slip him out of your mouth to marvel over the glistening view of his cock, swollen in your own spit.

“Yet it don’t stop you, does it? You keep sucking with that hot mouth of yours. Fucking with that tight ass of yours.” He sat up to stretch his hand from your neck and then down to your spine, repeating the affectionate gesture when he’d reach the limit of his mobility.

“Your cock is my liquor.” You held his gaze with pride, proudly slapping his wet cock across your cheek, against your lips, onto your tongue, because you weren’t ashamed for desiring men.

You weren’t ashamed for needing Glen.

No amount of prejudice can suppress your very existence.

“You doin’ a whole lot of talking, and not a lot of sucking.” His hand was strong on the back of your neck, massaging as if it would warm your throat up.

You purred, finding the increasing pressure on your neck welcoming as it naturally opened your mouth back up. Your tongue teased Glen for a little longer. Patience had been wearing thin, you could see it in his eyes as they hardened over the lazy trail of your tongue, unbearably sliming at the underside of his heavy cock. His grasp on your neck was clutching, pulling at your tender skin to maneuver you north and wrap your mouth back around him. But you were resisting. You were going to suck his cock on your own terms, on your own accord, flaunting your tongue over his stiffened pole to warm him up because you had all night with him.

You were beautiful like this, working your spit over his cock with your hand, while you silently leaned up for a kiss. He granted those rubies of yours a chaste peck, then another to the dried drool at the corner of your mouth, then another, a fulfilling kiss to your mouth that had drawn out simultaneous groans from the both of you because it was unapologetically more than lust.

You stroked his cock harder, to the warmth of his tongue as it slipped inside of you, keen to explore the cavern that had made his cock feel so glorious, to explore the mouth that often sent Glen into a spiral simply from his own imagination after the very minute he would depart from you.

His heart was beating, accelerating like it had soles to run on, and all it took was the palm of your hand caressing his chest in soothing swoops to ground him back to reality, to the kiss that had been broken in favor of you returning back to your original position between his legs, mouth agape and taunting as ever.

“Only because I want you to hear what it sounds like when I’m swallowing your cock.“ With those final words, you slid his cock into your mouth without letting your gags falter you.

His cock was heavy, maintaining the girth from base to tip as you took more of him after every cycle. Tears brimmed in your eyes when you’d choke on one attempt of slotting him down your throat. Then they dripped, rolled down your supple cheeks, when you’d work yourself through your gags until your throat closed in around his tool. You’d lie there with your throat stuffed to the brim, your lips clamped shut from the very base despite the fur of his pubic hairs tickling your lips to open back up.

Your ears rattled from your conscience begging you to end your torture, but watching Glen marvel at that mouth of yours made you endure the looming threat of fainting all the more worthwhile.

“Christ.” Drool spilled from either side of your mouth as Glen helped you stabilize with a palm to your nape. He gently pushed at the sound of your gags, keeping you situated against his groin in case you’d pull away. “You know how to make a man happy, don’t you?”

“Mmfgh—“ It was pointless responding, but Glen expected it. You always had to get the last word. The last sound.

He maneuvered you by the neck, pulling you back then forward again, your throat making ungodly sounds around his cock in midst of doing so. Occasionally, he’d meet you halfway and thrust himself into your gags, churning the arising saliva that foamed in your mouth back down your air duct, making you choke in the process.

“You miss my cock that much, boy?”

“Mmff-guh!”

He’d pull you back just in time, his cock releasing from the tight hold of your throat like a cork barricading liquor, and you didn’t waste a single second to fill your lungs again with the arousing air.

“You gon’ kill me with that thing, bastard.” Your spit resembled fizz that would spew out from opened cider. Glen kept it to himself, but he thought you looked dashing like this. Flushed in the face, cheeks stained by dried tears, nostrils stung with sniffles, you’d collect your composure quickly after, brazen yourself as if nothing had happened, but from the tremors in your hands, you were dismantled despite working your hand on him again.

“Too much for you?” He asked, reaching over with a hand to knead at the center of your throat. Glen didn’t show many moods, but you were well aware when he was either aroused, angry, or concerned, simply by the movement of his brows.

You lifted your chin upon the warm of his hand greeting you, grinning at the raise of the man’s brows. “I jest. Too much? Yes. But that’s the fun in it. Not knowing when to stop because I’m so addicted to you.”

“Should be a poet. You’d know how to charm people with your words.” He sighed into your mouth when he pulled you over, kissing you delicately while one hand lowered to gather his cock and yours in one hold, stroking the throbbing masses.

Glen was never too fond of feeling like this.

This warmth that was similar to downing liquor, yet not quite as strong or as scorching as to the sensation of aged spirit burning his insides.

It was foreign. The heat liked to spread around his body, the aftermath of hot rain he’d reckon. It was steaming inside of him. Pleasant and restful while his muscles eased. He felt like those biscuits he’d eaten for morning, noon, and evening. Buttery, warm, and pillowy.

That feeling only happened when he was with you.

It was unnerving how much power you held over him without you even realizing. How he’d weaken under the light of your smile, or even the dazed stare of your eyes, where Glen often found himself concerned with for the remaining month as the shadows beneath your eyes would grow with every visit.

You shouldn’t have that effect on him, because no one has managed to ignite such feelings inside of him. Yet you have, effortlessly so, without missing a single beat, and it was alarming to realize that his solitude had become unbearable since you’d came into the picture.

Frightening, where his solitude would feel like abandonment had something ever happened to you.

“Poets don’t make a home.” You whispered lightheartedly before breaking into soft, hushed moans, where Glen would happily devour as you resumed kissing him with tongue, running your hands over his muscles in meantime.

“And whoring yourself out does?” He sat up, pulling away to raise a questioning brow.

It was naive of you, but Glen knew better than to lecture you in the meantime. He hadn’t seen you in a month and he wasn’t letting a simple discourse interrupt that.

You shrugged, kissing at the underside of his jaw after he pulled you onto his lap. His hands were on your hips, his cock rubbing between your ass cheeks. “No, but at least I get fucked hollow out of it.”

“Forget what I said. If your mouth is this vulgar, I can’t imagine what you’d write on paper. You’d end a famine with folks dying from shock at your smut.” Without warning, one finger slipped inside of your hole. You clenched from surprise, but eventually welcomed him in with the languid kisses Glen would provide on your neck, on your shoulders, and on your chest.

“That’s a good thing, ain’t it?” You arched forward into his embrace, pushing your ass out as Glen twisted another finger inside of you, stretching your hole with two fingers. “I saved the world…” You moaned out in a manner that sent tremors down Glen’s spine. To his cock, when he stuffed another finger inside of you, and curled deep into your resistance. “Don’t do too much. Wanna feel you.”

“You silly.” The keening sound you give out rendered him speechless, along with the dew of your body and face, thinly layered with cold sweat of your own desires. Your hands braced on Glen’s shoulders as he pistoled his fingers inside of you for a little longer. Twisting, spreading, turning, curling, throttling, until you begged for him, in whispers, in hot kisses that muffled your sounds incoherent.

But Glen was an attentive man; tasting your tongue to feed off of your words, urging you to repeat with a smack to your ass. You would, desperate and delirious as you pushed your ass into the sting of his palm.

“Can’t take it anymore. I need you inside of me. C’mon.” You reached behind to stroke his cock with your spit, simultaneously pressing his shaft between your rump.

“You actin’ like you don’t get hollowed out daily.” Glen’s touch was tender on your cheek, holding the left side delicate in his palm, while his hips moved against your hand and grind, taunting your patience.

“Not like this. Always thinkin’ about you when someone else fucking me. They don’t do it like you.” It came out as a whine, a needy sound as you angled his wet cockhead against your pucker, dangerously pressing when you lifted your hips.

“They don’t satisfy you like I do.” A statement, rather than a query.

“They don’t...”

Glen was good at casting doubt on people.

Lies were often evident through the eyes. Novice liars either looked away, or stared too intensely like they were trying to convince themselves.

Your gaze yearned, lingered in search for Glen’s blessing. He held your gaze for a moment, catching a glimpse of stars in your pupils like he wasn’t aware that it was the candles’ doing. Getting lost in your eyes wasn’t warding off the warm feeling in his body. Rather, it began manifesting a smolder, burning more despite kissing you once to fan it away, to make the light in your eyes—the way you looked at him disappear.

He pulled away quickly to look into your eyes again. Burning now, he was burning.

Again, his lips sealed over yours, and then he pulled back to stare.

The stars winked.

Again.

A few morphed as one, seemingly emptying the space in your pupils.

Again.

No, Glen was wrong. They weren’t emptying space.

And again.

They were creating space.

He began witnessing the birth of a few more stars after every turn, crystal-like as they glimmered in your pupils once you smiled at his behavior.

Glen was in silent hysteria, finding himself spiral from one look you’d given him. It was different. Completely unlike anything you’d ever spared him. It felt true. Pure. Honest.

Loved.

There was no way out. He couldn’t find a way to escape if he’d tried. Burying his face into your neck didn’t work. You smelled like bread dough, ones you’d been kneading in the back of the kitchen. Ones he had eaten and marveled over before even meeting you.

Simply closing his eyes had no effect either, as your hand was on his cock, chasing after the throbbing with patient strokes.

“They don’t.” Glen repeated after you, a confirmation into the underside of your jaw.

Glen was never a man who lost. At least, he never lost without putting up a fight. When he spared you one more glance at the sound of your groan, he felt himself crumble and completely melt. He couldn’t see it, but he could feel it. Feel himself melting until all that was left was for bone to be rattled with as you sank yourself back onto his lap, hands braced on his shoulders while you welcomed his cock inside of your cavity, inch by inch

“You’re an angel, y’know that? Every time I see you, I feel like my sins been washed away.” Glen ran a finger along your taut rim, marveling over the way you looked right now, bouncing on his cock, over his lap, your cock swinging in for the ride. He harbored his moans into the crook of your neck, fogging your skin with the warmth of his breath, until you’d break into cold sweats.

“Ironic, ain’t it? What loving a man can do?” You groaned and grunted with exertion as you worked your way lower in tiny thrusts. “They don’t make love to me like you do, just as I don’t make love to them like I do for you. ” You confessed with conviction, and let gravity weigh you down onto Glen’s cock, taking him into your sturdy body. “Only you.”

Glen didn’t hear that right, did he? Loving someone? It was difficult to concentrate with the way you were working his cock. It was a glorious feeling being back inside of you, compact and warm like how he’d remember breaching you.

You felt so stretched, uncomfortably yet pleasantly filled when you’d lift your hips until only the cockhead remained, and rammed his cock back in with a strong drop of your ass. Your forehead rested on Glen’s, and you could feel every puff of breath he’d exhale. Hear the restraints in his panting as you tied your arms around his neck, and let your weight push him flat onto his back, properly straddling him.

“You love me? What you talking ‘bout?” He didn’t have the will to stop you. You were so eager, absolutely high on your arousal as you rode his cock with desperate rhythms, but he needed to address the revelation, for his sanity.

First off, you beat him to the punch. Had it originally played out in his mind, Glen was the one to confess about his feelings, not you.

“What? I-I ain’t say nothin’ ‘bout that.” It must’ve slipped. You didn’t know when, or how, or maybe Glen was a mind reader because you definitely didn’t say that, did you? You rocked your lower body in quicker ruts, hoping it would distill any remaining questions, and looked off to the corner, silently cursing at yourself.

“You’re lying.” His grip on your hips was sudden, making you come to a pause.

“I ain’t lyin’—“ Your brows furrowed, exasperated at the interruption. Luckily, Glen’s cock was still hard inside you, somehow throbbing even more as you witnessed something clicked within him.

Glen took ahold of your body, arms secured around your waist, before stepping off the bed and carrying you to the lone rocking chair in the corner of the room. “So, you hate me?”

“What? No, I don’t hate you. You—I—Glen, put me down.” You groaned when Glen sat down on the chair, the position driving his cock impossibly deeper into your body.

He refused despite your attempt in wriggling yourself free. You were strong, but Glen was stronger, tightening his arms around you. “Then what is it? I want to know how you feel before I feel like a fool for loving you too.”

Though, not like he had to hold you with much strength considering your bewilderment stunned you in place. “What? You love me?”

“You tellin’ me you don’t know? What was all that “makin’ love” speech about?” He was just as perplexed as you were. His chest felt heavy with disappointment. He’d been overthinking it, hadn’t he? Glen was a liar, someone who tried to convince himself of the impossible.

“It felt like you were making love to me. Don’t mean that I thought you actually did.“

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

A deafening silence as you two stared at each other. You were about to leave his lap, only for him to bound you back to him at the last second.

“Well, I do. I love you.” Glen stated matter-of-factly, a peculiar tone to his official confession, you couldn’t help but chuckle at it.

“Bighorn…” You sighed, surrendering into his arms with the slouch of your body, your chest colliding onto his. Frankly, the thought of being with Glen made you happy, yet nervous at the same time. “You know it don’t matter whether I love you or not. Nothing is gonna happen beyond this. Nothing can happen, unless you wanna risk your life. Mine too.”

“That’s something I’m willin’ to do. I’ve risked my life traveling plains, through towns, carrying expensive liquor. Nothing I won’t do for you.” Your heart felt like a pond with thrown rocks skipping across the surface of water.

“Absolutely not, and that ain’t the same. How you gon’ love me when you’re ten feet underground because of the fact that you love me?” You crossed your arms, frowning at his persistence because… well, it was working. More rocks began breaking the solitude of the pond.

“From the heavens, hopefully. Can leave you with my horse. Got a ranch back at home too. Can leave you with that. You’d have a house like you’d always wanted. Carry on with my business.” Pure dreams. That was all they were. Dreams.

“That’s only if I ain’t buried with you, Bighorn.” As much as you seemed resistant to Glen’s imaginations, you found yourself picturing a better life for you as you buried your head into his neck, listening to his tales. Living on a ranch like he’d described. Cattle and sheep would run free while you struggled to keep up with Glen as you joined him on this new lifestyle. It would be hard work, but by dawn, you’d slip into bed with Glen after dinner, and deem that it was all worth it in the end.

“At least we’ll be together, one way or ‘nother.” He kissed you at your neck, laving your skin in the weakest kisses, almost like he was beginning to surrender to your defiance. “So, you love me? You love me too?”

“I—Bighorn—Glen…”

He’d come a long way since you’d met him. Describing him as quiet was an understatement. He refused to make small talk when you led him into this room for the first time. It was a quick exchange, a shameful one as Glen power walked out of the saloon without sparing you a single glance. Now, he often spent nights with you, refusing to let go of you even in the deep of his slumber. In retrospect, you could’ve left when you had the chance. You had many opportunities even, to find a better life in the next town, and the next.

The thought of having Glen disappear from your life felt like death itself, so you didn’t, knowing that he would eventually down the line.

A year later, and he hasn’t.

Love makes you do crazy things.

“You know I love you, Glen.” You rubbed his chest sweetly, forewarning him of the disappointment you’d never relieve him from. Tears formed at your waterline, threatening to leak, so you pressed your face deep into his neck, wiping them against his skin. Your heart felt heavy, like it wanted to burst out of your chest to stop you from pushing him away. It would’ve killed you, but at least it would’ve saved Glen the disappointment. “I love you too. I’m glad we sorted that out, but we—”

“No, stop. No more. I love you.” He cut you off with a sudden kiss, whispering into your mouth after. “I love you, and I need you, you understand me?” His palm was back on your rump, kneading at the tender, yet toned flesh, while the other hand pressed his growing erection back to your pucker again, prodding. “No more buts.”

“But—“ Your breath hitched when he slid himself in again, stretching you out like before, yet it felt like an endless slide, digging all the way into the deepest part of your body, like Glen was going to cradle your heart, until he was rooted deep inside of you, balls flushed to the cleft of your ass.

“(M/N), I’ll take care of ya. Whatever happens, I’ll take care of it, you hear me?” Glen cradled your head, kissing at your cheek while you returned to burying it in between his shoulder and neck. “Let me see you.”

“H-hmm, m-mhm—“ His cheeks burned as you made those wanton noises in midst of revealing yourself before him. Flushed in the face, cheeks stricken with tears; one would’ve mistaken you to be ill. Though, in a way you were. You’d been struck by incurable illness that was love.

Glen clicked his tongue, frowning in wonder. “So, so, so pretty. You look so pretty.” He began thrusting into you, resuming where you two had left off. “You look even prettier now that I’m making love to you, you know that?”

“You love me.” You bit your lip, holding back moans because you needed to hear it from Glen again, hear of his devotion for you.

“I love you.” He whispered through grunts, spreading your ass cheeks wide, and you pressed your body forward, arching your ass out as his thrusts ramped up. His cock slammed up into you with raw passion, devoting his remaining strength to holding your ass up, and making himself work for you, all in the name of love.

“I love you.” You repeated between needy whimpers. You soon began to bounce up and down, hands braced on Glen’s shoulders, while you joined his thrusts with your own movements, meeting him halfway. His large cock reared you from behind like a hammer to a nail, pummeling you without break, without the chance to let you breathe.

It was rather the opposite, to knock the breath out of you.

You watched close, mouthing at Glen’s neck, then jaw, until you reached his lips, where you’d let hungry moans delicately fall into place. Glen found you breathtaking as you lost your mind with primitive lust.

“You belong to me, you hear me?” Glen said simply, his features calm. “No one else fucks you like I do.”

Your arms tightened around his neck for a hug. Glen seemed absolutely serene in his love, with you on his lap, fucking yourself into his cock. On the other hand, you were absolutely wrecked. Glen was fucking you harder, knocking guttural moans out of you on each thrust. Your own hole clenched when Glen lifted your ass up, pulling his cock completely out of you until you were squeezing nothing but warm air. He’d expertly dip a finger inside of you, to feel how stretched you were, play with your rim because of how swollen it had gotten, before stretching you back to capacity as he brought you back down on his cock, and onto his upward thrust.

“No one makes love to me like you do.” You panted through his batter, each syllable of word rattling in volume as you had absolutely no sense of it. Glen hummed in agreement while he fucked your ass and jerked your cock all at once. He was taking care of you.

You knew what he meant in the long run; tending to your injuries if you’d happen to fall off his saddle, hosing you down with water when you’d take a dive in the lake, feeding you the last bit of his biscuit because he never liked seeing you hungry. A life far from neglect as Glen had made you realize that you and him shared the dream.

But for now, he was taking care of you. Meticulously so as Glen remembered all the spots that made his tongue taste sugary when you’d moan in his mouth. Glen’s thumb caressed your frenulum, using the pre-cum your cockhead had been spitting to slip his touch in the tightest crevices. The pad of his thumb sailed smooth over the neck of your glans, flicking, pressing, rubbing at the swollen flesh of skin. You sounded so sweet and looked so serene under Glen’s touch, a complete antithesis to how you’d normally present yourself.

Glen was familiar with the roll of your eyes; from the way you’d interact with displeased customers at the bar, or from his demand to hold you throughout the night. But would you hold it against him if Glen revealed that he preferred seeing the whites of your eyes from being fucked impeccably in the ass? With his thick cock, battering your insides until you’d remember the shape of his cock? The motion of it all, digging deep into your ass, into your guts, pummeling through your need to clench hard around him, failing to pause him from hitting that sweet spot, or else you’d spill. Your hands curled into his chest as they were braced on the sweaty surface, and you’d never felt so desired, especially with your reflection in the vanity staring right back at you, providing you a simple glimpse of how beautiful you looked to Glen.

You’re a dirty bastard, Glen reckoned you’d confront him with, only before bending over the mattress and spreading your ass cheeks for him. You lucky that I’m as well, Bighorn.

No. No, you wouldn’t hold it against him.

You were perfect.

“Close.” You warned, then dropped your head lower to kiss him on the lips, spilling your moans into his mouth in midst.

Your hips bucked into his fist while simultaneously rocking back into Glen’s cock. His hold on you was secure, clutching to keep you as close to him as possible. You toyed with your nipples, pinching and tugging on them, and Glen accepted those gestures as a silent invitation for him to wrap his lips around one nub at at a time, suckling on the perky bud until you’d gone swollen. You’d join his lips for another kiss in gratitude, thanking him with your tongue as it explored his warm mouth, licking into his panting, his grunts, his devotion for you. You swallowed his spit after, and your fate with Glen was sealed and optimistically beyond your control.

“You look like an angel right now, but your hole’s the devil. Squeezing around my cock like this, holding me so tight like you’re afraid I’m ‘bout to pull out of ya. Christ, you’re so tight. You my dirty angel. My sweet devil.” His hand had abandoned your cock in favor of taking your ass into both palms and spreading them like before, fucking his cock up into you.

Your eyes shared pleasure with his, only your pupils had seem blown since he’d started angling his hips in a way that sent tremors to your body. With your cock in your hand, you gazed down at Glen with dazed passion, lips parted to warn, yet only little sounds had come out instead. “Glen. Christ—“ His cockhead tickled your sweet spot at first, a brief brushing that you didn’t think much of other than the fact that it made your body tremble. But Glen persisted, shifting his body against your gorgeous, helpless, and needy body, and fucked your tight body with force, teeth-bared, sweat beading on his forehead. Your mouth fell open, and your face slackened with unadulterated pleasure. “Damn you, I’m gonna come—“

Glen shuddered, witnessing your gaze blur in and out in an attempt to focus on him as he was on the brink of his control himself. “Do it,” he urged you. “I want you to. Come from my cock. Gonna come too, inside of your hole.”

You wailed when Glen’s strong thighs slammed into your sweaty ass. A thunder of delicious sounds: your wails and his growls, the bruising smacks of flesh to flesh, the hard rocking of the chair, scraping against the floor; they created a symphony that was nearing a crescendo. Faster. Harder. Deeper. Glen pounded up into you, and your ears blared with sounds of Glen’s pleasure. Your fist pumped your cock until your forearms began to burn, veins pulsing through to power you to your high.

He was gutting you, hollowing your hole out until it would recover just in time for his next visit. You’d remember him for the remaining weeks, his cock pummeling you until your melodic cries had shifted from want to euphoric need.

“Glen..!” You yelled.

Glen kissed you deeply and bit your lower lip, one hand steeling you by the nape to hold your forehead to his. He doesn’t plan on letting go. Watching you like this, submerged in unconditional pleasure, was just as gratifying as hammering into your prostate. “You feel so good, angel. Look at you. Look at that pretty smile, you’re so happy to be filled with my cock.

You were so full of cock, of Glen’s cock, and you cried from it. Cried from how Glen was taking care of you so well, back to fisting your cock, kissing your neck, pounding your insides out.

Love has never felt so good.

Finally, you came with an arch of your back. Glen’s fist released just in time for thick and heavy ropes to splatter on his chest. Glen stiffened, his eyes daring back and forth between the exhilarating expression on your face and the obscene visual of your cum flooding Glen’s fists as he wrapped his hand back around you, and worked you through your orgasm.

“M-mmfgh, come inside— Need it. I need you.” With your eyes on his, you leaned down to kiss him and take his hands into yours for balance, raising them over his head. They were sticky shut from layers of your cum, but that only made it more thrilling as you rode him. You lifted your hips and brought it down without a single pause, burying his cock inside of you to the hilt.

“Angel, fuck— I’m coming.“

You swallowed his growls, warnings of the inevitable, yet you accelerated like you didn’t hear, slamming your ass down repeatedly, chasing after his high. His hands suddenly grasped hard onto yours, sponging cum out from the locked hands and letting it trail down your arms, and his hips bucked. You could feel his thighs flex, see rapture possess his very being as his gritted teeth no longer could contain the trumpeting sound of his moans, his muscles pulsing. With one more press of your ass, you buried Glen’s cock and felt him come inside of you. Heavy and thick as his hot seed stained your walls. Creamy like butter, when you slowly milked him inside of you with gentle rhythms of your hips. It felt sublime, having your insides contain Glen’s devotion for you.

“You the devil himself…” Glen groaned and his body twitched as you emptied him of seed, stopping once you were satisfied. He then released your hands to embrace your waist, letting you slump into him with relief. Your head rested on his shoulder, and your eyes closed shut.

“You really mean it? You’d wanna live on a ranch together, or something?” You asked, feeling his heart come to a calm with your palm providing soothing strokes to his chest.

“Have I ever lied to you?” He turned, pressing his nose to yours. One hand caressed the small of your back, and occasionally would fondle your rump. Warm and plump in his grasp, he couldn’t help that he was in love with every aspect of you.

You thought about his question for a moment, pursing your lips before shaking your head. “No.”

“Then that’s your answer.” He assured with a kiss to your lips. “We ain’t gotta do it now, or the next month, or the month after that. When you’re ready. Just wanted to know I want a future with you.”

“Me too...” You muttered, playing with his chest hair to distract the sudden conflict you’d been harboring from him.

Silence filled the room for a moment as he watched you intently. You picked up his hat from the floor and fit it on yourself.

“There’s that ‘but’ again. What’s the problem?” Glen chuckled, his heart racing again despite maintaining his composure. He playfully flicked the rim of his hat down, making it tilt on your head, and cover your sight line.

“Hey—You ain’t gon’ like it.” You adjusted the hat, sighing in defeat when Glen watched you with vigilance.

“What?” He sat up, making you straighten your posture in turn.

“Think the sheriff’s not gonna like the sound of me quitting.”

“You kidding?”

“Nope.” You pursed your lips again, then sighed. “He’s boss’s most loyal customer. Pays well too. I mean, I don’t know. I may be wrong, but… think he likes me beyond what I do for him. Buys me gift from the city and all.“

“Well, he’s gonna have to prove it. I ain’t leaving without a fight. Not until I’m dead, and even then, I’ll be watchin’ over ya.”

“You a mad man.”

nouearth. please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works. and if you like this story, please reblog and leave a like!

#glen powell x reader #glen powell x male reader #glen powell x you #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagine #x male reader #male reader #x reader #x you #male reader insert #male reader bottom #bottom male reader #male!reader #nou.fics

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postracehair · 16 days ago

Text

trust me

max verstappen x reader | 2.3k

after an incredible (and wet) weekend in brazil, you have a confession to make.

cw: a loving relationship! discussion of anxiety/fear/worrying about your race car driver bf, healthy communication, and softness galore.

a/n: being a wag must be so stressful. like, damn! also, rain races stress me out, personally. this fic is about that.

The triple header comes to an end in the best way possible.

Max Verstappen wins the São Paulo Grand Prix from a 17th-place start! It's the stuff of dreams. The fist around your heart unclenches just a little bit as you watch him smiling, roaring, hoisting his well-earned trophy aloft. It's your best day in a long time, watching your darling boyfriend like that, and you celebrate with everyone late into the night. The Championship battle looms in the background but tonight is about the hard work from the weekend. The stress, the frustration, the damn rain. All of it worth it for the pride you all feel right now.

But what comes after -- that, you can admit, you enjoy even more. Three weeks until Las Vegas and Max and the team have plenty of work to do before then, but for now? For now, it's this: rest.

Everyone gets to go home, finally. And for you, home is wherever Max is. You've spent the first few days of the break thus far at his place. On the floor with the cats, on the couch watching movies. In his bed, sleeping, sometimes, other times... not so much. Hours and hours just being together. You'll have plenty of time for this once the season ends but you can never get enough of him.

You're on the couch, sprawled across the length of it with a book in hand. It's a good one, so much so that you don't notice Max until he taps your ankle and you jump.

"Jesus," you gasp. His lips are pulled up at one corner in the precursor to a full grin, sweatpants slung low enough that you can see the branded band of his underwear between the drawstrings and the hem of his t-shirt. "Where did you come from?"

"Watching race replays," he says with a shrug. "Scooch." You tug your legs back and sit up a little, bookmarking your page as he rounds the couch and plops down where your feet were.

"Max," you whine. "I like to watch those, too. So you can do that thing where you narrate like, every second." You're teasing, but only a little. For all the jokes about "maxplaining," you really do love how he explains things. He tells you what he was thinking at every turn, what the trick is, how long it took him to get it right. He points out his mistakes and those of the other drivers. All of it thoroughly and with enthusiasm, answering your questions like you're the best student he's ever had.

"Yeah, well," he says, sinking into the couch, arm stretched across the cushions towards you. Your eyes rake over the line of his bicep as he talks. "You don't like rain races very much. Wasn't sure you'd want to see it again."

That gets your attention. "How did you know that?" You've never told him outright that they stress you out. It's really important to you that you keep your cool at the track, that you don't do anything to let on that he should worry about you.

But you should know better, it seems.

"I can tell," Max says, looking right at you. "I pay attention."

You hum, not sure what to say. "You've got me there," you confess. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," he tuts. "Why the apology? You can feel however you want to. This weekend was complicated."

He feels too far away. You set your book on the ground and shove your toes under this thigh. He keeps his eyes on your face but you fuss with the hem of your t-shirt rather than look back.

"They're exciting. Rain races, I mean." You sigh. "But I can't help but worry, Max. From the garage, it's so --"

You lose track of your words because Max grabs hold of your legs and tugs them over his thighs as he moves closer to you, almost crowding you against the arm of the couch. He reaches for your collarbone to pick some lint from your shirt, his other arm slung across your calves.

"Were you scared?" he asks. "This weekend, I mean."

Frankly, you avoid telling him things like this because you don't want to distract him. You don't want to detract from his performance in any way and maybe that's selfish, because you know he's very good at what he does and how you feel isn't going to derail his weekend. But you know he loves you, and you know how deeply he feels things. How much he wants to be a good partner, a good driver, a good man. And you try really hard to let him know that he is all of those things.

The reality of your position in his life is that there will always be people who heavily imply that your presence, your actions, your choices could be at fault. It's ludicrous -- Max has said so many times -- but it makes you hype-aware. You don't want to overstep. It's something you know you should articulate to him properly, but you know he'll be upset that you think you can be anything but a good part of his life. It's an endless cycle.

"Hey," he says, mistaking your silence for emotion. "Liefje, I'm fine." He reaches for you, cupping your cheek with a warm hand. You look up at him and find him frowning.

"I know," you say, leaning into his palm. "I know you are. I just -- I don't want it to sound like I'm a whining baby or something."

"Whining baby?" Max gently rubs the skin under your eye with his thumb. "Psh. We've got some of those on track. You couldn't come close to them if you tried."

That gets a laugh out of you and he cracks a smile at the small victory.

You sigh. "I was scared," you admit, voice soft. Max presses a little closer to you, his hand falling from your face to catch yours, fingers twining together.

"Are you always scared?" he asks. "You're more tense on rain weekends, I can tell that much. But you've never really talked about this. I guess I--" He frowns again. "I've never really asked you."

"That's okay," you say. "It's nothing, really."

Blue eyes bore into yours. "No, I want to know," he presses. "Please, tell me?"

You tip your head back a little, eyes on the ceiling. How to say it?

"I guess I'm always a little scared, yeah," you say. "I don't know how I wouldn't be."

He tugs on your hand so you'll look at him. "What is it, do you think?" The question comes out in his typical way. This must be how he is in driver briefings, you think fleetingly. Max is analytical, methodical, always looking for the root of the problem so he can understand it and adapt.

But how do you explain this?

"Well, it's a dangerous sport," you explain. "As you know. And I -- Max, I love you, and I don't want anything bad to happen to you."

The furrow of his brow lessens a bit and he presses a light kiss to the back of your hand. Your stomach flutters, even after all this time.

But Max has no time for your mooning, apparently. "Were you scared before we knew each other?" he asks.

You think about it. "It's different, I guess. I was worried, generally. For all of you. I'm still worried for all of you, but --"

His eyebrow quirks and he fails to hide a cheeky smile. "Me the most?"

You roll your eyes and squeeze his hand. "You the most. But don't tell Carlos that."

Max tuts. "So, now it's just worse? You feel it more?"

Nodding, you try to explain. "I don't even like watching on TV, now, because I'm so far away. I feel so helpless."

You can't make it to every race but you try your hardest, not only to support Max but for your own sanity. It's easier to calm yourself down when you're around other people who believe in him, when you have access to all the details and when he's only a few steps away when he's out of the car.

"I don't want you to be worried," he says, softly. "You don't let on that you are when we say goodbye before the race, aside from being a little tense."

One of your favorite pieces of race weekends -- those few moments when all of his attention is on you. He makes sure you have everything you need and leaves you with a kiss and a smile and a see you later. His confidence and his competence are like balms.

"When I'm looking at you, I'm not as stressed," you say, a bit shy. "You're very good at your job, you know. And your confidence is convincing."

"I know," he says, seriously. "That's why I know it'll be fine. Do you not know that?"

If he was less determined, you'd ask him to drop it, since you're starting to feel embarrassed. But you know he won't let it lie.

"I know it, too, Max." You reach for his face to push back some fringe from his forehead. "I'll always be worried about you, though. You get in the car and drive away and I just -- sit there. And wait for you to come back."

He frowns, deeper this time. You keep your hand on him, cupping his jaw and running your thumb along his stubble.

"And I love it. You know I was a fan before I met you and it's a dream to be there to watch you race. I love seeing you do crazy things like win from p17. It's so much fun."

He knows this about you. You've got a bit of a reputation for your facial expressions in the Red Bull garage, always the first on your feet when he overtakes, jumping up and down when he extends his lead. It's an infectious kind of joy and energy and you lean into it every time, even if your stomach is churning with anxiety.

Max is quiet for a few moments. He covers your hand with his and leans into it further.

"You trust me, right?"

"Of course," you say right away. "Always."

"I've never really thought about it," he says, slowly. "I mean, in the car. I don't worry about you because I'm not worried, so I just thought you knew not to be, too."

"I'll always worry, Max. Even though I trust you."

"Why didn't you tell me this before?"

Your cheeks heat and you look away from him, pulling your hand free to cradle it in your lap.

"You've got a million other things to worry about besides me," you say. "I don't want to distract you."

Max says your name with a scoff, literally waving his hand as if swatting away your silly notions. "Distract me? Come on," he says. "I wouldn't be a three-time world champion if I could get so easily distracted." He leans into your space, nosing at your jaw. "Even if you are very distracting."

You allow the attention for a few moments before pushing him back with a laugh. His cheeks are flushed, hair a bit of a mess, like after he takes off his helmet. And, god, he looks relaxed. You're so proud of him you can hardly stand it. The season is almost over and you know he's got a lot of work ahead of him, and you've got a lot of worrying. But he's motivated, and you know he can win. You know he'll come back to you.

Max leans his head back on the couch and casts his gaze sideways at you, nose scrunched. "I can't fix this, can I? You're still going to worry."

He sounds so resigned, so disappointed in himself that you tug on his hand so he'll get closer. This time, you frame his face with your hands and kiss him, just a light press of your lips to his. Both of you sigh into it, and you drag your mouth along his cheek until you reach his ear.

"I'm still going to worry," you whisper. "But I love you and I trust you. And I know it'll be okay."

Max sighs and presses his forehead to your shoulder, practically pulling you into his lap so he can wrap his arms around you.

"You better hope it doesn't rain for the rest of the season," he mumbles.

"That damn VSC," you groan, pulling back from him a bit. "I was going to tear my hair out!"

Max laughs. "It kept things interesting," he says lightly. "Rain isn't really a problem for me, schatje, you know this --"

"Because you're Dutch, I know, Max." You roll your eyes. "Even Fernando couldn't keep it together! I mean, the gasps from the garage when --"

The seriousness of your conversation fades as you trade tidbits about the race -- you've done this already, hashed it out in the hotel room and the flight home and in bed since Sunday. Max watches you talk, elbow braced on the couch and his head resting in his hand. His eyes sparkle and you know you're amusing him as he corrects you on the turn names and who went in the wall when. Max loves you: you've never doubted this. He loves you and he cares about how you feel and doesn't want you to be worried.

And while you will be, because you love him, you know that it'll be alright.

"Hey," Max says, interrupting your opinions about start procedures. "I love you, okay? Thank you for worrying about me."

"Graag gedaan," you say. Well, you try to say. Max laughs and corrects your pronunciation. You're welcome, he says, over and over, a kiss to your cheeks, your nose, your forehead each time. Ik houd van je. Your lips, your neck, your jaw.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen fanfic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #my writing #mv33 #fic: trust me

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