#BEFORE DIVING IN AND DEVOURING HER

[ridox]

I’m hoping yes is still your answer because… I just can’t hold back anymore

[lvrclerc]

✶ BETTER THAN THE NOVELS

summary: you're a romance novel influencer that has never actually experienced romance. ironic, right? and when f1 driver lando norris accidentally becomes a constant presence in your life, he decides he can't possibly let that slide.

F1 MASTERLIST | LN4 MASTERLIST

pairing: lando norrisﾉf!reader

wc: 11.2k

cw: reader is a ferrari fan and is said to wear feminine clothing (dresses, skirts etc), reader has a race taking place in her home country but it's not precised where, takes place during a fictional season (w the 2025 grid), cussing, inspired by nick and cassie on tiktok, slight angst near the end for plot reason, otherwise just tooth-rotting fluff!

a/n: first fic who cheered! this is so self-indulgent and cliché but who caresss also its a long one so buckle up (editing was hell, ending is a bit rushed too sorry)

THERE WAS NOT ONE day in which @.whoisy/n, book influencer extraordinaire, did not pass her day with her head inside a romance novel.

You always liked reading. The passion struck you in late primary school when you first opened Percy Jackson and before you knew it, you finished the entire series in three days and begged your parents to buy you Heroes of Olympus. There was no going back after that. You couldn’t spend a day without your thirty minutes to an-hour reading session.

Like every girl raised with the idea of being a strong, independent female lead in the novel that was your life ─ at the sweet age of thirteen, dare I be precise ─ you never dabbled too much into romance. If it ended in a book you were currently reading, so be it, but you wouldn’t outwardly enjoy it. Why would you need someone in your life? You were so not like the other girls, you didn’t waste your time on boys or parties or things like that ─ you didn’t even wear pink!

Except that now that you have grown up, at the age of twenty-two, you liked wearing pink and bows, and because you spent most of your life buried in books with this idiotic, sexist idea of the “not-like-other-girls”, you never had kissed or dated anyone. Damn Rick Riordan.

I mean, you went on dates, sure, but they never went anywhere further than a “that was fun!” text and radio silence right after. It made you feel used, sometimes, but at that point, it was just something you expected whenever you took an interest in an individual.

The only thing that stuck with you as you got older was your passion for books. So after you resigned yourself to it, you dived into romances. Bad idea, really, because you started living vicariously through them.

Everything was so perfect: the storylines, the female leads, the guys and the girls and what they whispered into the other’s ear, and when they noticed small things nobody else would’ve noticed, proclaimed their love high and loud in heartfelt speeches, the awkwardness of a first love and the tenderness of a first kiss. A part of you, whenever you tapped your Kindle or rushed through the pages, ached a little in the middle of your incessant giggling. Something that yearned for a story like that - but you’ve learned against your will that nothing in the real world could compare to the stories or the movies.

You were doomed to die an old maid with many, many cats and a thousand bookshelves. It didn’t sound that bad, of course, but come on. You still held hope that maybe, one day, something like that would happen to you. Maybe.

One of your favorite subgenres was sports romance. There was something so romantic about running into someone’s arms after a well-spent game ─ you devoured the hockey ones, the basketball ones, even the football ones. More recently, though, you got into the motorsports ones ─ more specifically, Formula One.

There weren’t many, mainly because of the work that had to be done to dodge plagiarism: you couldn’t use the actual drivers or team, so you had to reinvent everything down to every detail. But for those that existed, you simply couldn’t let them go. You liked Formula One, it wasn’t a proper passion like reading was but it still was a nice pastime: you’d turn on your sketchy website that streamed F1 TV Pro to watch the Grand Prix and became impatient during the overly long summer and winter breaks. While you were more partial to drivers than to teams, you grew very fond of Ferrari as the years went by.

You were very vocal about your interests in your accounts. Obsessing so much over books gave you access to fandoms at a young age and a desire to have your own space within them. You quickly became a staple presence on BookTok, BookStagram, and BookTube after your first posts and videos went public. People found you funny, endearing, and relatable… not to throw yourself flowers, but you were. It’s that transparency about your Sahara-desert dry love life and your contagious excitement about your hobbies that made you so popular, reaching millions around multiple platforms.

People liked you, so people were kind to you. An advanced reader copy of a new F1 romance novel was on another level of kindness, though.

You hadn’t expected it, but it came in your mailbox with a sweet written word from the author, Leandra Moore ─ she was pretty influential and had written multiple New York Times-acclaimed New Adult romances. You didn’t even process everything she was saying, only that she liked your videos and your personality and ‘thought you might like her new work’.

What a stupid question. Of course, you did.

You devoured the 430 pages in a sitting. The sky, awfully bright when you got the package, was pitch black by the time you turned the last page. You were breathless, flushed, and smiling so hard your cheeks were beginning to hurt. “Silver Spring Race” was a wonder of brother’s best friend, secret exes, and second chance rom-com goodness, mixed with the adrenaline of the perfect F1 season, five out of five stars on Fable and GoodReads. You didn't waste any time: tripod, lighting, and you were already filming a review video in your almost ecstatic state, giggling away with the camera knowing full well you were sharing with a few thousand.

It was a simple review as you always did. Yet, it did way, way better than your normal videos ─ so much so that the book had to be released early. So much so that Leandra had the means to host a release party after the goddamn Miami Grand Prix. So much so that she invited you, personally and free of charge, as multiple other book influencers to attend the Grand Prix and the release party the day after.

Someone had to pinch you because holy shit, this couldn’t be your reality. You never confirmed something as fast as you did for that. Honestly, who wouldn’t?

The race had been an exceptionally good one. The sun was bright and hot but the slight breeze made up for the extreme Miami heat. You and your book influencer friends and acquaintances had amazing seats at the Beach Grandstands - some on the North and some on the South. You quietly wondered just how much money did Silver Spring Race generated for Leandra to get those sought-after seats.

There had been a few technical difficulties during the race, causing Pierre Gasly to DNF, and a narrowly avoided crash on Albon's part which cost him to lose standing. Ferrari was going strong, though, which kept you breathless from screaming until the checkered flag. Norris ended in pole position, with Verstappen following suit in P2 and Leclerc in P3. While it was not the outcome you hoped for due to your bias toward the latter's team, you had to cheer when faced with the radiant smile of the first-placed.

Now, the thing was to get out of the stands. That was a harder task, the Beach Grandstands were filled to the brim and before you could process what was happening, the flow of people separated you from your friends. No matter how much you fought against the current you couldn't help but be brought down to wherever they were going: guess you'll have to find a way out by yourself.

By the time people scattered, you were in an unknown setting with multiple staff members, all wearing different colors ─ pink, orange, red ─ and running around. You would have liked to stop one of them to ask where you were, or at least how you could access the parking area from here, but all passed you as if you didn't exist. You couldn't blame them, the Grand Prix had just ended, and they probably had ten thousand other things to do. You were on your own. Great.

You just wandered off and hoped you'd stumble upon a miraculous exit sign amidst the long and confusing hallways.

You definitely didn't expect to crash into Lando Norris.

You didn't realize it was him at first. The only thing you knew was that as you were looking around, finally finding somewhere open from where you could see the stands (but still not anywhere that looked like it could lead you to the parking lot), you back bumped full speed against someone.

You turned around, heart skipping because of the shock. Soon enough, though, your astonishment turned horrific when you gradually noticed the full can of Monster energy drink spilled on an orange tracksuit, staining it deep brown.

It couldn't get any more embarrassing. Until your eyes darted up and you saw a mess of curls and wide, green eyes. That's when your horror became panic. Holy fuck, you didn't just─

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed, after a few seconds of stunned silence. “I'm so, so sorry─ I didn't─ I was looking for the exit and I didn't see─ holy shit─”

You started aggressively looking in your small handbag, hoping─ no, praying, you brought some tissues with you. You spilled an energy drink on Lando Norris. His energy drink. Lando Norris was in front of you, staring at you like you were some wild, erratic animal. He was probably furious. You wanted to bury yourself six feet deep underground. “I'm sorry, I can't find any tissues I─”

He snorted.

You froze in your tracks, interrupting your rambling. A glimmer of amusement shone in the driver's eyes. “It's chill, don't even worry about it. It's not as if that was like, the only suit I owned.”

“Uh─” you started. “I'm still─”

There was something about your expression, maybe the fact you were opening and closing your mouth searching for something to say like a fish out of the water, that made him reiterate. “Really, it's cool. You can stop panicking.” After a pause, he continued, in a more reassuring tone. “Plus I'm already all sweaty and dirty, so not much of a difference.”

He was…? Heat furiously rose up to your cheeks and you couldn't tell if it was because of embarrassment or his words or how painfully aware you were of the situation. “What?”

This time, Lando's face was graced with a shit-eating grin aimed right at you. “From racing and champagne, you know.”

Oh.

Now you wanted to be five feet under. What was wrong with you? “Right.” You took a deep breath. You bump into Lando Norris, an F1 driver you admired for years no matter your loyalty to Ferrari, and spill an entire energy drink on him before accidentally stepping right into borderline sexual harassment. Get a grip, Y/N. “I saw. I mean, I was in the stands. Beach Grandstands. I saw you. Win the race. Congratulations, by the way!”

You sounded like a robot. Oh my god. You couldn't act less natural even if you tried.

Lando arched an eyebrow. “Thanks a lot. But uh, if you were in the stands─ what are you doing in staff quarters?”

Your heart lurched in your chest, realizing the impression you probably gave. “Shit. I promise I'm not a weird fan or anything, I'm not a stalker! Which is definitely what a stalker would say. But I'm not. I was dragged by the mass of people and I couldn't find the exit and nobody would tell me─”

Another laugh from him interrupted you and what surprised you was the absence of mockery: he sounded genuinely amused. You didn't know how to react to the fact he found your distress funny. “Are you always this anxious?”

“See, this whole…,” you made a circular hand gesture, “... situation is not helping my anxiety. So the answer would be maybe.”

Lando chuckled again and this time, an awkward smile found its way to your lips. “I wasn't trying to blame you, it was just a question. You can breathe. But the exit's not there.”

“Yeah, I think I noticed,” you sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“It's through there,” Lando turned around and pointed to a slightly hidden door, but right above was a bright green exit sign. You were blind. “You just go straight and the parking lot shouldn't be that far.”

“Oh, uh. Thanks. I didn't see it,” you simply answered. Dusting off invisible dust from your clothes, you looked at him again. “Again, I'm sorry about the drink. Really.”

“I told you it's nothing, just go before a team member calls security on you, ‘aight?”

You aggressively nodded, which stole another breathless laugh from him that you decided to ignore. Right as you went through the door, the curly-haired driver called: “Hey!” You turned around, frowning in incomprehension.

“Next time you decide to sneak into McLaren's quarters,” Lando said, “at least wear the right colors.”

You quickly glanced at your Ferrari shirt, slightly cropped to go with your jean skirt. That's when the words echoed in your brain. “I wasn't sneaki─!”

Before you could finish your argument, he closed the door on you.

Walking back to your car, the realization of everything that went down the last 10 minutes slowly dawned on you. What the fuck had just happened? Was it real? Did you hallucinate? Did you just humiliate yourself like that in front of Lando Norris?

Most importantly: novels made meet-cutes seem so simple and easy, how did you manage to mess it up that bad?

A day later, you tried to push that interaction to the back of your mind, mainly because of how embarrassed you were about how you acted but also because otherwise, you wouldn't be able to think about anything else.

Once the night had comfortably settled, you confidently walked into the venue Leandra rented. It was an immense room in an even bigger hall, and so elegant you couldn't help but feel a bit out of place. You guessed that’s what you were supposed to expect when you partied at the same place the drivers usually did ─ at least that's what one of the girls told you: it was where they would throw after-parties when they had time after races. Fits the theme, you thought.

The decor was tasteful and themed in a way that didn't feel cheap, which was surprisingly hard to do, as you discovered as you mingled with Leandra Moore and her entourage. The buffet was delicious, the champagne was flowing, and there were professional photographers and signed illustrations of the two main characters of Silver Spring Race, along with a Fairyloot exclusive edition of the book. You could have died right here and there: the details were to die for.

Right as the music was getting louder, the conversations grew more deconstructed and the alcohol less diluted, you decided to step out for some fresh air ─ as much fun as it was, being socially involved for so long was tiring you out. If you wanted to last the night, you needed a little break.

The exit was notoriously hard to find, which gave you war flashbacks from yesterday you had a hard time pushing away, but you didn't spend as long finding it ─ just enough to regret the aesthetic choice of wearing high heels for the night.

By the time you got outside, your feet were aching for freedom. You quickly rushed to the stone stairs leading to the party hall and sat on the first step. The scenery was quite stunning: a fountain throned in the middle of the place leading to stairs, lightly illuminated by the white neons in the water and the warm hall light, and tall trees surrounding the square. You could have probably appreciated it more if you weren't so preoccupied with detaching those fucking straps of your ankles: why weren't they coming off, those little─

“Oof, looks like you need help again.”

Your hand froze on your shoe as the voice and accent hit a familiar spot in your brain. It took you a second to catch up, and around a minute to realize. Your heart dropped and you turned around, slowly, like the main character in a horror movie.

Lando Norris stood before you. Again.

Who exactly was controlling your life? Because the odds of this happening a second time were really, really low.

His hair was usually messy, and yet tonight they seemed more contained and professional. He wore a white shirt, and a few buttons popped open at the collar gave you an open view of a small gold chain around his neck ─ you had to drag your gaze away. Straight-legged black pants finished the look, topped off with black loafers. He looked miles away from the Lando Norris you accidentally ran into after the race. He probably showered.

He looked gorgeous, too. It would be a blatant lie to even ignore it, and that realization slightly took your breath away.

Yet, the only thing coming out of your mouth was a strangled, “I swear I'm not stalking you.”

A pause. You had serious issues.

And still, Lando laughed. Hard and loud, like the ones you saw in a few selected interviews when you were bored and scrolling on YouTube during the breaks. It made you feel slightly self-conscious. He breathed in as he walked toward you, a chuckle still in his tone when he spoke up. “I mean, I'd believe you this time but the coincidence's pretty big.”

An offended scoff escaped you and suddenly, all the thoughts about him being a celebrity, a renowned driver, a trust fund kid flew out the window right into the fountain. 

“I'll let you know I was invited to an event here, thank you very much. I have other, more important things to do than follow someone around.”

When you realized what you said, your eyes widened. “Sorry, I didn't mean─”

But Lando was smiling.

“Nah, you did.” Right now, he stood right next to you on the stairs and you quietly wondered if he was going to sit down or keep looking down on you like that. Then you realized that you were, again, in the most improbable situation known to man. Anxiety swirled in your stomach.

“Soo… what event are you attending?”

You squinted your eyes up at him. “...Is this an interrogation?”

Lando simply shrugged. “Can never be too sure.”

Well, you couldn't blame him for that.

“A book release party. The author, Leandra Moore, happened to invite me and other people. She was the one that got us tickets for the race yesterday, too. I just went out to get some fresh air.”

He hummed in response. “Oh yeah, heard something about that. I guess you're legit, then.”

“Yes, I am!” When you looked up again, there was that shit-eating grin. You rolled your eyes to the high heavens.

“... Wait. Is your name Y/N?” He suddenly asked.

Huh?

You never mentioned your name to him. You don't think it was even brought up in the 15 minutes you two talked. A frown scrunched up your eyebrows. “Uh, yes? How'd you know?” Silence. “And I'm the stalker?”

Lando laughed a bit at that. He finally sat down next to you, and the heat of his exposed forearms somewhat close to your own made you panic again.

“Y/N as in WhoisY/N?”

The gasp you let out could have landed you a role in The Young and the Restless. There was no fucking way. Absolutely none. This is where you drew the line. “You can't possibly be watching my videos.” Your tone was resolute.

“Nah, not me. My little sister though, Cisca.” That made more sense than to imagine Lando Norris, McLaren's golden boy, giggling and kicking his feet in front of your last romance review. Still, it felt unreal. “She eats up every single one of your posts. You’re the reason why we have so many cartoon covers at home, that's why I thought you looked familiar at first. The book release party confirmed it.”

You didn't know what emotions you should let transpire first. The fact that you were a celebrity in the Norris family was enough to make your jaw drop, but the mention of cartoon covers added heat to your cheeks ─ you hoped he never opened his sister's books.

“She's so gonna freak out when I tell her I met you,” he said between laughs.

“She's going to freak out?” You asked in disbelief. “You're in Formula 1. She can't freak out because of me. I'm freaking out because of you!”

He didn't point out your statement, thank god, but his eyes didn't seem to miss it. “I'm her older brother, she uses that to make fun of me now. But no, definitely, she's going to freak out.”

“What even is my life right now.”

That, at least, made you both erupt in an unstoppable fit of laughter. When it died down, you finally had the space to ask the question sitting in your mind since he appeared behind you. “What are you even doing here?”

Lando arched an eyebrow at you. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Yes.”

He exaggeratedly rolled his eyes, clearly mimicking you. “There's a race after party in the hall. McLaren special. Also went out to get some air, DJ-ing was becoming suffocating.”

“Oh,” it clicked, and you started thinking out loud. “I guess the girls weren't lying when they said that's where the drivers partied. It makes sense Leandra would rent out this hall.”

“Why?”

You were pretty sure smoke could be escaping from you right now just by how flustered you were. “Uh. For promoting her book?”

“Yeah, I got that, but like… why would our parties have anything to do with it?”

Lando was becoming suspicious again. Somebody kill you right now. How do you keep messing it up? “Because… it's… an F1 romance?”

Blank stare. You were just as red as the dress you wore and ready to go home to cry yourself to sleep. Then he laughed, hysterically, and you couldn't feel more ashamed.

“That exists?” He asked, breathless.

You turned your face away from him. “Yes.”

“And you read that?”

“Leave me alone,” you added, “if she follows me, your sister does too.”

That seemed to make him stop, at least, to your devious satisfaction. “I think I'll need to take a look at her shelves when I go home.”

“For the good of the girl and mine, please don't.”

The cold night breeze brushed your arms and you were now very mindful of how thin the material of your dress was. You shivered, rubbing your arms with your hands. Lando was quick to notice. “Shit, sorry. I don't have a jacket. I would have landed it to you otherwise.”

You don't know what came over you, but you bumped your shoulder with his. “Wow, that was almost gentleman-like.” Where did this familiarity come from, you didn't know ─ you have known the man for no longer than an hour. But there was something about the easy-going conversation, the late night, and the champagne buzzing in your blood that made this scene… just like the ones you read about, in your favorite books.

As soon as that idea slithered into your mind, you forcefully pushed it out. That was another level of delusion, Y/N. Those novels fried your brain.

You got up before Lando could answer. “It's fine, I was going to go back to my hotel anyway. The party drained my social battery and my flight takes off early tomorrow, so it's better if I go to sleep.”

“Okay, sure. Let me walk you to your car at least.”

Oh shit. “... I don't have a car.”

He blinked slowly. “What do you mean? How'd you come here, then?”

“I carpooled with some girls who are not going home right now.” That was a very dumb idea now that you look back on it.

“So… how are you planning to get to your hotel?”

You didn't bring your wallet with you, so no chance of getting a taxi. “... I'll walk?”

“... Yeah, no. No chance. At night? Dressed like that?” He took you in, making you hyper-aware of the high slit and the almost sheer material of your dress. “I'll take you.”

You were stunned. So much for avoiding delusion or further embarrassment. “I can't possibly ask you─ I mean, you have a party─”

“If you think that after-party is going to end anytime soon, you're so wrong,” he chuckled.

In all honesty, you could have argued more, but Lando already seemed settled on his decision. He stood up, not before grabbing the heels you took off during the conversation and decidedly headed toward the parking lot. You hummed and followed suit as he started walking toward his car, your comments dying on your tongue. The improbability of what was currently happening was just too much for you to grace it with a thought, so a sentence would be crossing the limits.

The car ride was spent in comfortable silence as soon as you typed the address of your hotel in his GPS. Your eyes widened when his car came into view: a black 2018 McLaren Senna, with red accents, you hadn't seen so beautiful with your own eyes in a while. You had to bite back a gasp when you got in.

Lando rolled the windows fully down. The wind whipped strands of hair around as you watched the scenery roll by at a dizzying speed, making you wonder if he knew what a speed limit was. Soft bass music played on the radio, one you didn't know the lyrics to, but Lando did as he whispered-sang them. He looked calm behind a wheel that didn't belong to a Formula One car, the contrast was drastic. The driver met your eyes with a smile, and that was only then you realized you'd been staring. You turned your head as he laughed.

When your hotel came into view, you quietly thanked him for dropping you off and stepped out of the car. You didn't know what to do after that. Some part of you tugged at your mind ─ it was too good to be true, those things only happened in books. He was probably waiting for something in return. After a small wave to him, you were ready to disappear behind the doors and leave this night behind.

“Wait!” Lando called out from his opened window. Your stomach dropped. You knew it.

Hesitantly, you turned around.

“You're still wearing the wrong color,” he simply said, “I better see you in orange if you want my services next time.”

Relief washed over you and no matter how hard you fought it, a smile broke your carefully impassive facade. “Next time?”

Lando smiled at you. “Next time.”

And when he drove away, you couldn't help the butterflies in your stomach either.

As you lay in bed that night, you didn't push anything away. You processed what happened, today and yesterday. You didn't know how to feel or what to feel exactly, many emotions were contradictory, but maybe it was alright ─ not to know. To just let yourself feel without having to put a name on it.

When you grabbed the phone in your handbag, an Instagram notification caught your attention before you could even unlock it.

@.lando started following you.

A disbelieving, loud laugh escaped you. He did say there would be a next time.

After that it was safe to say, even though a little wild, Lando Norris had become a staple in your daily life.

The moment you got back home, you had received a DM by the driver himself asking if you traveled safely to which you couldn't help but reply with a “Stalker much?”. He simply answered that there was only a single flight going back to where you lived today, so it was easy to find on Skyscanner. As if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

It made you smile.

The texts continued. What first started as small conversations every two days, reacting to each other's stories or silly tweets with not much depth behind them gradually grew, over a month, into useless life updates, every day with no exceptions.

lando: just ate the biggest fucking sandwich today

lando: [1 picture attached]

lando: scooby-doo type shit

whoisy/n: i'm so hungry actually

lando: did u get sidetracked reading again

whoisy/n: it's LITERALLY my job

lando: go get something to eat you muppet

whoisy/n: yessir

whoisy/n: u'll never guess what happened in my book

lando: he cheated on her right

whoisy/n: …

whoisy/n: you WILL guess what happened in my book

lando: LMAOOO that was so obvious from what you told me

whoisy/n: i had sm faith in him. men!!!

lando: they're all the same

whoisy/n: RITEEEEEE QUEEN

Lando always asked about what you were currently reading. It didn't take a genius or an Oxford diploma to notice how much you loved it, not when your entire social media presence was built around it. You knew it wasn't performative and he enjoyed hearing you talk about it ─ he often sent texts during the week asking about your favorite character, at what page you were, and if they kissed yet. It was harder during weekends due to races. Somehow, he still made time.

Similarly, Lando took the habit of sending you long vocals at the end of his days, explaining what happened, what Oscar and him were up to, and how annoying the different media were. He still refused to tell you much about his team, because your allegiance to Ferrari was simply “outrageous” according to him. You gladly landed a listening ear, chiming with a helping comment whenever you could. The late evenings got later and the vocals longer and longer each passing week, and before you knew it you two were calling almost every night.

It was a normal occurrence. He would get ready for bed and you would drop your Kindle for an hour or two, even longer the rare times he didn't have anything planned the next day. You would talk about anything and everything at the same time ─ sometimes he'd rope you into downloading a game and playing it with him, sometimes you'd just remodel the world until one of you was too exhausted to keep playing God. Most of the time, it was Lando.

Due to its sudden start, this growing friendship of yours quickly attracted the attention of your entire following base as well as his. Lando commented on almost all your new Instagram posts and TikToks with random things that either had a link with what you were talking about or none at all ─ most often alluding to the many inside jokes that stemmed from your conversations. Every interaction succeeded in making everyone crazy, especially your followers: apparently, you were finally getting the sports romance you were dreaming about for years.

The thought crossed your mind, how could it not with the amount of allusions under your posts? The fan edits on your For You page? But you never let yourself linger on it for too long.

You and Lando were friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

The call you got that night was unexpected. Tomorrow was race day, the Canadian Grand Prix more specifically ─ and Lando never called before a race. You understood perfectly, something about being well rested and focused, so you usually sent a good luck paragraph he'd read in the morning and answer after the event. So why did his caller ID light up your phone screen as you were getting ready to go to bed, you didn't know. 

You picked up without a second thought. “Everything's alright?”

“What happened to hello?” He chuckled, his voice grainy through the speaker.

“My God,” you sighed. “Hello, Lando. Is everything alright?”

“Why wouldn't it be?”

“You never call before race day.”

Silence. “Hello?” You called. “You're still there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Uh, it's just─ your books are so unrealistic.”

Your heart skipped a bit, and you sat a little straighter against your pillow. “What?”

“I couldn't sleep and I didn't have anything to do, so I picked up one of your F1 romances you recommended in your last video─” No. No, he didn't. “Throttled? By Lauren Asher? And I just─ it's so dumb.”

Your mouth dropped open and instead of letting out words, a small screech left your lips. “You─ you read─? Why?”

“Like I said, I couldn't sleep. Whatever, it's─”

“Embarrassing!” You interrupted Lando. “You read one of my─ oh my god. This is not the family-friendly kind either. And it's F1. Next time just punch me in the face, I’ll be less humiliated.”

A wheeze came from the other side of the phone. You buried your head in your pillows, trying to put out the fire in your face. “Oh yeah, definitely not family-friendly.”

You groaned in response but that didn't stop Lando from continuing. “As I was saying before you rudely interrupted me, it got most of the sport right but otherwise it's so… it took all the competitiveness out! That's, like, the entire point of F1! I thought you were a fan, how can you willingly enjoy that?”

“I mean, I know it's not the most accurate representation of F1,” you flopped on your back, “but it's kinda like Drive To Survive, y'know? Most people watch it for the drama. I read those for the romance plot.”

Lando scoffed at your words. “Even the romance plot isn't that good, Y/N. The whole part in which he throws a race to make her happy? That's such bullshit.”

“How so?”

“If you love her, you win a race for her.”

You couldn't put the words on it once again, but the way he said it constricted your chest with such tightness you had to take a long, calming breath. You had to concentrate to get out your next sentence. “Well, I don't know, it's not like I know anything about romance. I thought that was pretty romantic.”

“What do you mean, ‘don't know anything about romance'? You read this shit all day long.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but that's not the real thing. I've never actually dated or kissed anyone, so actual romantic gestures are like… foreign languages to me.”

A beat. Until you suddenly heard a mess of covers moving around, reverberating right in your eardrums. You hissed, and Lando spoke up again.

“You've never kissed anyone? Or dated?” He sounded stunned, which surprised you. It's not like you've tried to hide it. It grew to be your brand over time.

“Uh, yeah. Never.”

“You're shitting me.”

“No?”

“I can't believe it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, jeez, thank you for making me feel so great about being a twenty-two years old virgin, Lando.”

“No! No! I didn't mean it like that,” he screamed at his speaker. “You're just… you're you. You’re too nervous for your own good, true, but your cheeks get darker when you laugh, you fiddle with your sleeves when you don’t know what to say, and you constantly hum songs when it’s too quiet for you. You're smart, you're beautiful, you're passionate, you're funny…” He got quiet before continuing. “I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you, that's all.”

Oh. Oh.

The fluttering in your stomach flew its way up to your throat, and for a little moment, you thought you were going to throw up. The silence stretched as you basked in Lando's words, left hanging in the thick air. Suddenly the screen didn't seem like enough space between the two of you.

Lando ended up breaking the stillness. “I just─ I think I should hang up. The race's tomorrow and it's getting─” A pause. You glanced at the time: 00:23. “Shit, the race is today.”

“Don't worry. Go to sleep, get those hours in and win tomorrow,” you answered in a shaky breath.

“Yeah. Yeah, that's what I'm gonna do.”

Still, neither of you clicked on the red button. “Lando?”

“Mmh?”

“Thank you. For what you said.”

“... I meant it.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” He hung up.

You desperately tried to fall asleep, tossing and turning, fighting with your pillow and covers to get comfortable but the only thing your mind could focus on was the end sentence he uttered, the inflections of his voice a ghostly whisper in your ear. I don't get how anyone could pass up the chance to kiss you.

How did you successfully act as if that call never happened? You didn't know. You never were a good liar, less of a good actress. Maybe it was the way Lando carefully sidestepped the subject every time you nearly alluded to it that made you so good about ignoring it altogether.

It was nothing. You just blew it out of proportion, like you usually did. Maybe you should try self-help books instead of romances for the next few months.

No matter how bittersweet your feelings were about this whole situation, you chose to put them aside, simply because Lando had two free weeks starting today and he chose to put a few of his days aside to fly out to your town. For the first time in almost three months, you were going to see each other face to face. And under normal circumstances! That would be a first.

When he came out of the airport, with a gigantic suitcase for just a few days and his characteristic grin adorning his lips, all questions just vanished into thin air. You resisted the urge to jump into his arms but you didn't miss how tight Lando held you when he initiated the hug ─ you melted into him like snow in the sun.

Lando had rented a hotel room for his short stay, a good thirty minutes ride from you. He used it once before you both silently declared your home was way better than a five-star Hilton. He squatted on your couch and you'd sleep in your bed, the rare times you slept as most nights were spent playing video games and marathoning movies. Most of them were romantic comedies. Lando would complain about the lack of realism and you'd smack him over the head, and the movie would be watched in between snarky commentaries and heartfelt comments on your perception of love, sneaking glances at each other.

You tried not to let the latter get too much to your head.

However, Lando's trip had to end at some point. Too soon, it was the evening before his plane ride home and you were helping him gather the stuff he left all over the place ─ the state of your living room was deplorable, but you could cry about it tomorrow morning. In any case, you had to get ready since Lando established earlier there was no way in hell he was going to go back without going out at least once. You replied by saying you already went out a couple of times but according to him, visiting was not considered “going out.”

A good thirty minutes later, you crossed the threshold of your house, heels clacking on the pavement as you approached Lando. He was waiting next to your own car, black shirt half buttoned and messy curls hastily tamed. You had forced yourself not to stare too much ─ friendship established or not, you were still the same girl he found on the stairs in Miami and he was still undeniably beautiful. His eyes raked over you in silence, his lips parting slightly, and you found your normally confident walk faltering.

You hoped he thought of you just the same.

Then, breathlessly, “Wow.”

That's all it took for fire to flame up your face, drowning the blush you so carefully applied. You graced him with a little spin, which he applauded. “Well, you're not so bad yourself,” you added. Understatement of the year.

You walked to the driver's seat, but Lando's hand on the handle stopped you going further. “Nah, I'm driving tonight. I got a surprise for you.”

“What do you mean, surprise? Weren't we supposed to go to the movies?” You raised your eyebrows, confused.

“We watched, like, 30 movies and I've been there 5 days - I’m starting to overdose. Trust me and get in the passenger seat.”

“... You being so ominous is making it very hard to trust you, Lando.”

“I’m an F1 driver, I can drive your car.” He sounded offended you doubted him, even though you weren’t alluding to his driving skills at all. Still, the tone he employed when mentioning your car was almost offending you. Not everyone had a McLaren salary.  “I meant the surprise,” you clarified.

“Ah. Well. Have a little faith in me, c’mon.” On these words, he climbed into the driver’s seat and closed the door on you. The audacity of that man, sometimes you couldn’t believe it. It didn’t leave you much choice than to take the seat next to him and watch the landscape go by. Quiet conversation was made as the sky tinged with dark, navy blue, and before you knew it Lando was parking in front of one of the most reputable ─ and expensive ─ restaurants in your town. It was safe to say you never put a foot in it before.

When you got out of the car, you almost jumped at him. “That’s your surprise?!” You whispered-exclaimed under his amused gaze. “You’re crazy. Downright mad.”

“I’m inviting you!” Like it was the most natural thing in the world, to just indebt yourself by inviting a girl to dinner. The smile he flashed at you was a mix of hesitation and enthusiasm, so bright that any protests and remarks about how you just couldn’t let him pay died in your throat. Instead, you thanked to which Lando answered by giving you his arm. You took it and entered the restaurant.

You couldn’t describe the meal as anything but luxurious, whether it was taste-wise or the plate’s presentation. Your surroundings were gold plated and yet the only thing you could focus on was how hard Lando was trying to make you choke on your food ─ the jokes were flowing just as much as the wine in your glass, any awkwardness you may have felt stepping into this place disappeared into thin air as soon as Lando started occupying the conversational space, like he could sense how tense you were.

Before you could even look at the dessert, he stopped you. “We’ll skip that,” he said. You threw him a strange look. “I have another thing planned, just go with it.”

How many surprises were in store for you tonight? You didn’t know, and your Excel-spreadsheet-on-vacations self was getting panicky. But if there was one thing you learned with Lando was that your incessant worrying was needless, especially with him. You left after he took care of the bill, being very careful about not letting the numbers in your sight, and climbed back into the car. The sky was now an inky black and the air was lukewarm on your bare arms. Lando rolled the windows down like he usually did, but this time let you be in charge of the aux ─ considering it still was your vehicle. Frank Ocean’s “Moon River” resonated in between hushed giggles and the chime of the wind in your hair. Flashbacks of that fateful night, three months ago, crept through your memories. You still couldn’t believe what it had come to. 

You drove longer than you did before. This time, Lando parked on a cliff you had no idea existed, even though this was your town. And this time, when you got out of the car, your breath was taken away by just how many stars contrasted with the darkness of the night, the lights of the town too far away to blind them and instead joining them in a faraway source of light.

Marveling in front of the scenery stopped you from noticing Lando’s shenanigans behind you. He was awfully quiet, which wasn’t like him, so you turned around. 

You found him on the roof of your car. Literally. With plastic goblets, the half-empty bottle of wine you had at the restaurant, and ─ you weren’t joking ─ a plate of pancakes. Your jaw dropped open, nearly hitting the floor. “What? How─ huh?” No full sentence could come out of your mouth at this moment, no matter how hard you tried.

“Don’t tell me you don’t like pancakes,” he pleaded, “I woke up way too early to make them not be eaten.”

You thought you dreamt yourself climbing on the top of your car to sit next to him, but it was all very real: you were wholly stunned, which he seemed to notice. Sheepish, he prompted a proper explanation, “I just thought I should, uh, properly thank you. For letting me stay at your house and all. This seemed less impersonal than the restaurant.”

“You stole the wine,” was the only constatation you were able to get out, barely. Emotions constricted your throat too tightly for you to utter anything else.

He laughed. “Took it when you weren't looking. ‘S not like they're going to reuse it so I took care of the waste.”

“Such an ecologist soul,” you teased.

“They call me Father Nature at McLaren.”

“How'd you…” Words weren't coming out easily. Your eyes darted from the bottle, to the pancakes he probably woke up at an ungodly hour of the morning to make, and Lando ─ who was waiting for you to speak like you were his saving grace. Nobody ever looked at you like that, you thought, like you meant something more than what you were. “How'd you get this idea?”

Your question seemed to fluster him a little. He ran a hair through his curls, eyes darting to the side. “Uh, that's what he did. The male character in your book. Nothing Like The Movies I think? I thought that'd be something you like, y'know?”

Your heart thumped against your chest like it threatened to burst out of it. He read a romance novel, one of the most recent ones you reviewed. He took note of your favorite scene, in which Wes was supposed to take Liz to a restaurant but ended up eating on the roof of his car. He reproduced it.

For you.

“I…” There was a sentence threatening to spill out that you're not sure you quite mean yet, but you were feeling it so deeply it was hard to keep it in check. “I don't know what to say.”

“Then just eat the goddamn pancake before they get harder than they are. Turns out, they're not really durable.” It surprised a chuckle out of you.

The conversation carried on after that. The slow hum of Frank Ocean's discography escaping from the car made the perfect soundtrack to the vast discussions about racing, books, and life in general. The longer Lando and you went on, the quieter your voice got until they were reduced to a little more than a whisper, almost into each other's ears. Your cheeks hurt from laughing, your pinkie was intertwined with his, and the bottle was empty by the time the clock on your lock screen showed midnight.

“How did you even find this place?” You looked around once more, taking in the city lights, the tall trees, and the numerous stars above you.“I've been living here for years and I never knew you could get such a good view. Plus, it's not like you sneaked out during the night to scout places out. Unless?” You gasped exaggeratedly.

And there it was again, the pinkish tint at the end of his ears and the avoiding looks. “Nah, no sneaking out. I… I mean, what I did was─”

“You…?”

“I googled ‘date idea’ in your city and this is one of the places that came up.”

All of the sudden, the reality of the situation slapped you in the face. How Lando's thumb was lazily drawing circles on your hand, the romantic lyrics of the song playing from the car, the wine and the restaurant and how your eyes have been switching from his eyes to his lips a bit too often ever since you parked.

“Is this…?” You could kiss him right now. According to how transfixed he was by your mouth, you didn't think Lando would mind much.

You leaned in ever so slightly. He never answered your half-question, and even if he did you don't think you could have heard it through the hammering in your ribcage. However, his lips were but a brush of air against your own.

Because a goddamn flash stopped you.

You both jumped in surprise, the harsh light blinding you for a split second. The other half of it was enough to realize what you were faced with. Lando was the first to voice it, in more of a hiss than a sentence. “Fucking paparazzis.”

He got off the car in a jump, but a flurry of hurried footsteps told you that by the time he reached the spot the light came from, there would be no one left. You jumped off as well, dusting off your dress. “Lando?” You were shaking. Somehow, you couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment, panic, cold, or the brutal withdrawal of the high you were in not even a minute ago.

“The fuckers ran away.” His voice betrayed the palpable anger radiating off him. “I should’ve known. They’re always fucking there.”

The mood was gone, replaced by the static of the cold night air and the missing warmth of each other. By a silent, common agreement, you both cleaned up your car’s rooftop and climbed back in your seats soon after. The soft music was gone, the windows rolled up and Lando’s hands were tense on the wheel. When you got home, nothing more but a small “goodnight” was exchanged ─ apart from a glance, as you crossed your bedroom’s door, but it was too dark for you to interpret what it could mean.

When you woke up a few hours later, Lando was already gone.

You knew it was too good to be true. Things like that happened to the type of girls in the novels, not to you. But when Lando wouldn’t answer your texts, or carried on his vacations and his first Grand Prix back without a care in the world, you still couldn’t be asked to describe the terrible ache in your chest. You should have known.

You couldn’t wrap your mind around it ─ that all the late night calls, the comments, the texts, the rooftop of your car and the soft sweep of his breath on your lips was so easy to brush off for him. Not when it was the ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ of what could have happened that night that kept you up for so many sleepless hours. It left you wondering if any of it was real: the friendship, the sweet words, and everything in between, or if you were just the new mystery girl to toy with and give up when it became too complicated.

The heartbreak and betrayal weren’t even the worst part of the situation. You didn’t expect the photo to come out as quickly as it did, after McLaren had a good PR team and would be able to at least intercept it, right? Wrong. It came out two days later. The picture was slightly blurry but clear enough so you could perfectly see your face and Lando’s, dangerously close to each other, and your hands intertwined together.

The flurry of comments, DMs, and interview requests sent to you after was unbelievable. Your community did the best it could to try and get the tabloids off your back, bless them, but all the other sides of the internet were either begging for more information or calling you names. Still, Lando and McLaren chose to ignore the whole situation. Swallowing your pride and deciding to take the high road, you did the same. You read romance books, you reviewed them, you exchanged a little bit with your followers on social media, you watched movies ─ you carried on with your day-to-day life, even if it was with a little less vehemence and a growing dislike for the romantic genre you adored.

It was the first year a Grand Prix would take place in your city. A brand new circuit, with brand new challenges. Taking place in the middle of the season, you were ecstatic when it was announced a few months back. Now, seeing people walking down your street with bright orange shirts and a number 4 on their back on a Friday morning, the only thing you wanted to do was to close your blinds and crawl back into bed for the weekend.

Your plans were thrown in the wind not even an hour later by none other than Cisca Norris. With an Instagram DM. You started following each other a few days after your friendship with Lando had been noticed by the public eye, but you’ve never really spoken to each other. She looked like a sweet girl nonetheless.

ciscanorris: heyyyy

ciscanorris: ik we never talked

ciscanorris: and that might not be the bestest moment to get friendly

ciscanorris: but heyyyyyyy

Your eyebrows rose at the notification, but you weren’t about to let your situation with Lando get in the way of interacting with his sister ─ who had nothing to do with it in the slightest.

whoisy/n: hey cisca! dw at all, hows it going : )

ciscanorris: great!! hbu?

whoisy/n: tired, but apart from that nothing much

ciscanorris: rest well then!

ciscanorris: i’m going to be honest tho

ciscanorris: i’m not just texting you to ask how you’re doing

It should have surprised you yet it didn’t. The timing was too spot-on to be a coincidence, but you chose to live in ignorant bliss.

ciscanorris: are you going to the race this weekend?

whoisy/n: what do you think

ciscanorris: can’t blame you

ciscanorris: my brother’s an ass

That made you chuckle.

whoisy/n: i was thinking worse

ciscanorris: so am i

ciscanorris: but he wants to make up for it

ciscanorris: really

ciscanorris: he insists you should go to the race

whoisy/n: and he couldn’t text me and ask himself because…?

ciscanorris: doesn’t want to spoil the surprise apparently

ciscanorris: idk what he’s planning

Another surprise. Knowing how the last one amazingly ended, you were a little doubtful. Lando sent his sister to ask you to come as if she was the one racing, and now he had something planned ─ again.

ciscanorris: just check your mailbox and think about it

This was enough to pique your curiosity. You went out immediately, opening the little white mailbox next to your front door. There was only a small, brown letter with your address hastily written in black ink ─ you recognized Lando’s handwriting. There it was: a paddock pass, classic McLaren colors, with your name on it. With it? A note, same brown paper, same handwriting: “Please”.

That’s all it took to convince you to go. After all, you still had to get a proper apology. 

This time, you entered the McLaren’s side of the paddock with purpose. The staff member at the entrance knew your name and even showed you the way ─ a sharp contrast with your experience a few months back. You stood above the garage, right in front of the track and near a decisive turn, though the number didn’t come back to you. It was a good spot, excellent even, it could be said to be better than the Beach Grandstands in Miami.

Yet, there was no sign of Lando.

You walked past Oscar in the hallways and the quiet driver just flashed you the tight-lipped smile you give to acquaintances in the street. You walked past his girlfriend, Lily, and you even passed by Lando’s dad, whose eyes widened in recognition but was clearly too busy to offer you anything more than that. Everyone but the man you came to watch the race for. You started to absentmindedly fidget with the bottom of your orange shirt ─ if that was his version of an apology, he was pretty shit at it.

The race started soon after your arrival, and the pit in your stomach dug deeper and deeper as you watched Lando do the formation turn. You suppose you were to wait until the end of the race, which made sense in a way, but you didn’t appreciate being put on standby like greenery on a windowsill.

The animosity dimmed when the sound of motors rang in your ears at lights out.

The circuit was brand new, and two days of preparations were not nearly enough to get acquainted with an entire novel track. Risks were high, and the probability of winning was evened out for everyone, which justified the cacophony of cars bumping into the others during the first lap as everyone found their footing. You believed Lando would have a good chance of ending P1 and snatching a victory in your city ─ it was the type of track and weather that favored him.

But Lando had started on pole position.

From the years you spent watching races and your general knowledge of him, Lando Norris didn’t do well when he started a race on pole. Most often, pressure got to him and he lost one or two places during the first few laps, which made you curse at the TV more than you’d like to admit. Unfortunately, it was exactly what was happening right now: you gripped the railing for dear life as Hamilton passed him, then almost broke your nail on the metal when Verstappen followed suit.

By the last lap, Lando had managed to stay P3 and keep his place on the podium, much to your relief, but the bitterness of pole escaping him was obvious in his behavior: champagne was sprayed all over him by his colleagues but he wouldn’t even look up from the ground, his traits disfigured by disappointment. Maybe some would see it as tiredness, but you knew better.

That’s why as soon as he walked down the podium to head to his team and to his garage, you darted downstairs to meet him.

It didn’t take long to spot Lando. His team surrounded him, clapping his shoulder and congratulating him with a bright smile. He barely returned them, scratching his neck in embarrassment. He was looking around like a lost puppy and you stood there, amidst the mess of elated people, unsure of what you should do or say. When Lando’s eyes set upon you, his expression went from disappointment to remorse in a split second.

He acted before you could. Rushing toward you, his voice was broken when he spoke up, trying to make himself clear above the surrounding noise.  “I’m so, so sorry. I fucked it all up. I was─ that was shitty. My race was shitty.”

You blinked. “What?” You couldn’t understand the link to the race and your situation to save your life. “Lando, you’re P3.”

Lando ran a hand through his hair, gripping his curls. His eyes bore into yours, cutting off anything you might have wanted to add. “No!” He continued. “It’s not─ it’s not good enough. I should have been P1. It should have been me, up there. I worked… I worked so hard so I could…” He was breathless now, searching your face for something, even though you couldn’t tell what exactly.

“What are you even talking about?” Frustration elevated the tone of your voice.

“I was supposed to win the race for you!”

That shut you up. Incredulity coursed through you and your mouth, half-opened to say a sentence, couldn’t manage to get out a sound. His words didn’t make sense, and somehow you didn’t need to know more. Lando took your stunned silence as a sign to continue.

“I was supposed to win the race for you. I wanted to give you your book moment. You’re, you’re the type of girl that deserves to get swept off her feet, the grand gestures and all that!” He threw his arm in the air. “When you told me you never had that when we called that night, and the fact I could be the first one to do that for you… I never wanted something, someone, as bad.”

You felt yourself flush. “Everything else failed,” he kept on going, almost erratic, “I tried the heartfelt confessions but bailed right after, I tried to impromptu date but I forgot all about the fucking journalists. So I thought that- that maybe I could give it to you the way I knew best, by racing.”

His words, two months back, echoed in your mind. If you love her, you win a race for her.

“But I had to fuck that up too. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.”

All of it was for you.

The way Lando looked at you, desperate and miserable, the way your feelings were overflowing out of you and him… it was almost too much for you to process. Your mind and heart were an unintelligible tangled mess you couldn’t make sense of, and in classic you fashion, the first sentence that spilled out of your lips was a teary-eyed, broken, “You’re so stupid.”

“I know.”

You quickly wiped the tears that started spilling down your cheeks. “Not in that self-deprecating way you’re thinking of. Don’t you think it would have been easier if you just told me all this instead of ghosting me for almost a month? Making me think nothing about all this was real? Is that why you weren’t texting or answering me, you were figuring out how to go about this circuit?”

Lando nodded bashfully. You let out a dry laugh. “You’re unbelievable. I don’t care about- that! I don’t care that you didn’t get pole position, I don’t care about your ‘failed’ attempts. I couldn’t care less. What I care about is you. If you had told me that instead of leaving…”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” he apologized again. “I just─ I wanted─ I know I acted like a moron and I should’ve done better but I thought that if I─”

“I understand. I know.” Gently, you took his hands, furiously fisting the pans of his tracksuit, into yours. Apparently, it acted as an ice bucket dropped right on Lando’s head. He stared at you as if it was the first time ─ in a way it was. He was sweaty, dirty, and covered in champagne, his curls falling onto his forehead and you were standing there, almost as surprised as your first meeting. Except everything else had changed, and the man in front of you wasn’t just a guy driving in a fast car you liked watching on Sundays. “But I didn’t need it. You’re plenty enough all by yourself, without the grand gestures and book-worthy moments. I’m not a book heroine. I need something real.”

The space between the two of you suddenly seemed too vast for the emotions inside of you. One of Lando’s hands carefully slithered on your waist, as if to test the waters. The gentleness of his movement, its implication, stole the breath out of you. “How real are we talking?” He was trying to make light of the situation, but the underlying seriousness in his voice betrayed him. 

“I think you know it by now.”

And just like that, his lips crashed onto yours.

It was an electric shock as if lightning struck you and spilled in your entire body. When he pulled back, you didn’t waste a second wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him right back in.

If his hands were considerate, never unraveling further than your waist and cheeks, his mouth was the complete opposite: hungry, intense. He kissed you like he had been holding back for so long it pained him not to touch you, and you kissed him back with the same vigor because you had been waiting just as much. He tasted like expensive alcohol and you were drunk on it, on the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands on your body. You couldn’t get enough. You don’t think Lando could either. It was messy, somewhat clumsy, his mouth wet and firm moving in sync against your own in haste and impatience.

But it couldn’t have been more perfect. Not for your first kiss.

“Really, right here? Get a goddamn room.”

You recognized Oscar’s voice, even though you couldn’t see him, which was an acidic reminder of where Lando and you both were. You broke the kiss first, and he let out a breathy laugh against your lips, sending shivers through your whole body. “That… was a long, long time coming,” he whispered.

“Whose fault is that?” He chuckled again. You did too.

You gave each other a bit of space, mainly for some well-needed air but also for the comfort of the staff around you. Still, Lando’s hand went up from your waist to your forearms, taking you in like it was the first time he saw you. His smile, wide and bright, brought the trademark heat to your cheek. “You wore the right color this time.” You were now hyper-aware of the shirt you wore, bright orange with a 4 printed on the back. “Good, I would've hated kissing you while you were wearing red. That equals cheating now, by the way.”

“Oh, really? You know, you still technically haven’t taken me out on a proper date,” you teased. “Don’t think you’re forgiven just yet.”

“Don’t even worry about that, I’ll take you out on the best dates ever. No paparazzis this time. You’ll even choose the movies.”

“Even if it’s a romcom?”

“I kinda grew attached to them because of you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Before you could get another comment out, a squeal replaced it as you felt the floor give up under your feet. It took you too long to realize Lando had swept you up in his arms, bridal style and was currently heading down a hallway. Your arms went up around his neck, this time for support. “What are you doing?” You asked with a giggle.

“Taking you to the driver’s room.” Even though you couldn’t manage to see his face, you could practically hear his grin, proud and cocky. “Going to give you reasons to forgive me, we can talk date ideas here.”

“What about the interviews?”

“They can wait.”

Playful protests escaped you under the incredulous eyes of the staff members who saw you disappear behind the white door. You didn’t care. At all. Anxiety be damned, as well as everything that held you back before. Because of this, what you had with Lando, felt perfect. Right. It might be too soon to call it love, but you had no doubt it would come to that sooner than later.

Because the way he held you, the way he kissed you, the way he looked at you, was undoubtedly better than any romance novel you ever read. Because it was real.

©drgnsfly 2k25. do not copy, steal, post somewhere else or translate my work without my permission.

[gam3r-girli3]

18+ content ahead, mdni! | part two

Something something the boys are out one night and Soap confesses to Price over a few beers that his last girlfriend broke up with him because she claimed he didn't know how to eat her out properly.

It's forgotten about the next day, just a bit of locker room chat between men over a some drinks in their local pub, until Soap is called into Price's office one day to find you - his Captain's pretty wife - laid out on the desk, looking like a damn feast.

Price is kneeled down in front of you between your splayed legs, lapping hungrily at your cunt, and if your echoing mewls and cries are anything to go by, you seem to be enjoying it immensely.

Soap backs up, hand reaches behind him for the door as he stutters over apologies, unable to tear his eyes away from the erotic scene in front of him. He feels his cock stirring in his trousers despite the wrongness of it, the intrusion on a private moment between a husband and wife.

It's been so long since he last got laid, even longer since he got to taste a nice pussy. He can tell just by looking at yours that you've got a nice tasting one, the kind that lingers on his tongue days after, makes him ache and wake up hard just dreaming about it.

Price's head turns, but he doesn't look angry, far from it. His eyes glitter with amusement, mustache looking damp and chin shining with slick arousal from your weeping cunt.

Instead of ordering him to get out, the Captain invites him to come closer.

Hesitantly, still in a state of disbelief but far too turned on to leave, the Sergeant edges closer, swallowing thickly.

"Go on, lad. Give 'er a taste."

It's wrong, so wrong. Depraved. But he is depraved and he's so unbelievably horny.

Soap takes Price's place on the floor, knees leaning on the hard surface as his face gets up close to your pussy.

His eyes dart up to your face, as if checking to see your reaction, but you just smile coyly and give a short nod of reassurance. It's all he needs before he's diving in, suckling harshly on your puffy clit.

He hears you cry out, loud, feels your fingers fist in his hair - but you don't seem to be trying to hold him there, you're tugging. He raises his head, a struggle, looking to see what's wrong.

Behind him, observing, Price clicks his tongue in disappointment. "You're going too fast. You need to slow down. Savour it. Take your time."

Soap feels a flush of embarrassment.

Keeping his Captain's words in mind, he goes in again - but this time, he doesn't slurp, he laps. He slowly and painstakingly devours you, from your clit down to your soaked entrance. He savours the flavour, hums as your arousal dances on his tongue. Thinks back to his earlier thoughts and decides he was right; you do have a nice tasting pussy and he'll be getting off to this for weeks to come, chubbing up at just the mere mention of your name.

He can distantly hear you whimpering and sobbing over the thunderous drumming of his own heart, can feel you squirming, thighs clamping around his head every so often. Doesn't need to look to know the desk is fucking soaked, any paperwork under you destroyed with your juices (not that he's allowed much to escape, the greedy bastard that he is).

"There ya go, lad. She's almost there. A little more."

Price's encouragement only serves to make him work even slower, drawing out your impending orgasm deliciously. When you finally reach your peak, your back arches clean off the desk, legs twitching and quivering, your voice a beautiful high-pitched crescendo full of pleasure and relief that echoes in Soap's skull like a symphony.

Only once he's finished catching every drop of your release that escaped your cunt does he come up for air, licking his lips and tasting your arousal that's coating his mouth, chin, dribbling down his neck.

Soap turns his head to look back over his shoulder.

Price nods, a hint of pride in his voice as he says, "Well done. Next time I'll teach you how to make her squirt."

i don't know what this is and don't ask me how it came into my head

[ pics in collage do not belong to me - all were found on pinterest ]

[lheesluv]

thirsty for your touch (s.jy)

just Jake satisfying his needy girlfriend in every way possible after she was busy thirsting over his sleeveless selfie pic

PAIRINGS - hard dom idol bf!jake x sub fem!reader

GENRE - smut (mdni), established relationship

WARNINGS - p in v, unprotected sex (dont be silly, wrap up ur willy!), dom jake, submissive and needy reader, breeding kink, fingering, oral sex (fem receive), Imk if i missed anything!

WC — 1.5k

A/N — i be yapping my life away on these oneshots 😭🙏🏻 this was supposed to be released ages ago but uh…..

© All rights reserved Iheesluv do not copy, repost, or translate.

Jake steps into the dim apartment, peeling off his jacket with a groan, muscles sore from the night’s set. He expects you to be asleep, curled up under the blankets like usual. But instead, he finds His brows lift. “Babe? You’re still up?”

You jolt slightly, eyes snapping up to meet his. There’s a flicker of guilt in them—just enough to spark his curiosity.

“…Yeah,” you mumble, shifting slightly under the covers. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Jake narrows his eyes and walks closer. “Couldn’t sleep? Or too busy staring at my newest selfie, hmm?”

You blink, stunned.

He smirks. “Yeah. I saw the likes and comments flooding in the second I posted it. Figured you might be one of them.”

You don’t deny it. You can’t. Because your phone screen is still lit up, and his post is right there—him in that sleeveless shirt, biceps on full display, sweat glistening on his skin, a cocky little smirk on his lips.

Jake leans over, plucks the phone out of your hands, and raises an eyebrow.

“Thought so.”

“Jake—”

He tosses your phone aside and crawls onto the bed, eyes dark and sharp, settling between your thighs like he owns the space.

“You know,” he murmurs, voice low and thick with heat, “if my girl’s gonna sit there drooling over me like that… the least I can do is give her the real thing.”

Your breath catches as he grabs your wrists and pins them above your head with one hand, the other sliding under the covers and dragging your panties down slowly, teasingly.

“But we’re doing this my way,” he growls. “No touching. No whining. And you come when I say.”

He slips two fingers between your thighs and groans at how wet you already are.

“Damn. You really were sitting here soaking over a selfie, huh?”

Your cheeks burn, but it’s no use. Jake’s in full control now. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he strokes you slowly, deliberately avoiding your clit, teasing you just enough to make your hips twitch in frustration.

He leans in, lips brushing your ear.

“You want more, baby? You better ask for it.”

“Please,” you whimper, writhing under his touch.

“Please what?”

“Please touch me… Jake, please—”

He grins, devilish and proud. “There she is.”

With that, he dives between your thighs, tongue replacing his fingers as he devours you with slow, maddening precision. Your moans fill the room, hands still pinned above you as he holds you there, completely at his mercy.

And he doesn’t stop. Not until you're shaking, begging, chanting his name like a prayer.

Only then does he pull back, wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, and crawl up your body. He quickly tugs his pants down and holds your thighs open.

“Next time you wanna thirst over me,” he murmurs, dragging his tip along your entrance, “just wait ‘til I get home.”

Then he thrusts into you in one deep, punishing stroke—his way.

He stays deep inside you for a moment, eyes locked on yours, letting the pressure and stretch settle before rolling his hips slow and mean. The kind of thrusts that make you feel every inch of him, that keep you on the edge without tipping over.

Your breath hitches. “Jake—”

He silences you with a kiss. Hot, possessive, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucks you slowly, deliberately, like he’s savoring the way your body reacts to every grind of his hips.

“God, look at you,” he mutters, pulling back just enough to watch the way your brows knit in frustration. “Squirming under me, all worked up ‘cause of a little sleeveless pic. I should post more, huh?”

He smirks when you whine, your body desperate for more friction. “You’re mean.”

“I’m fair,” he says, grabbing your thigh and hitching it up over his shoulder, pushing even deeper now. “You wanna act needy, you get treated like it.”

The new angle makes you cry out, and he groans at the sound.

“You’re gonna take every inch like a good girl,” he growls, snapping his hips harder now. “You’re not coming until I say. Got it?”

You nod, biting your lip so hard it might bruise.

Jake pulls out suddenly, leaving you gasping at the loss. “Turn over.”

You obey instantly, heart racing, face buried into the pillows as you arch your back, offering yourself up to him. He doesn’t hesitate. He slams back into you with a deep, brutal thrust that makes your eyes roll back.

“This what you wanted, huh?” His palm comes down on your ass, the sting delicious, your moan muffled by the sheets. “My cock deep in you while you’re soaked from just looking at me?”

“Yes—fuck—yes, Jake—”

He fucks you rough, relentless now, one hand tangled in your hair, the other gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. The sounds of skin slapping fill the room, mixed with the filthy sounds leaving both your lips.

And then, just when you feel yourself tipping over that edge, he leans over your back, voice a growl in your ear.

“Come. Now.”

Your body obeys before your brain can catch up—your orgasm crashing into you like a tidal wave, your legs shaking, back arching as you fall apart on his cock.

Jake groans and follows, burying himself deep, hips jerking as he spills inside you with a rough grunt of your name.

You’re still trembling from your orgasm, mind hazy, body spent, but Jake? He’s far from finished.

He lies beside you for only a moment, stroking your back as you try to catch your breath. Then he sits up, leans over you, and presses a kiss to the small of your back.

“You didn’t really think that was all, did you?”

Your heart skips.

He slides his hands down to your thighs and pulls them apart again, revealing your soaked, sensitive core. “Look at this,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers through the mess he left inside you. “You’re dripping. Still so needy.”

“Jake,” you breathe, voice already wrecked.

“I said you’d come when I let you, not once and done.” He presses two fingers inside you, slow and deep, curling them perfectly. “So you’re gonna take everything I give you. All night.”

Your body jerks, hips twitching at the stimulation, but his free hand pins you down to keep you in place.

“You wanna come again?” he asks, lips ghosting your ear. “Then you better stay nice and open for me.”

He teases you like that—fingers pumping slow and controlled, pulling just short of what you need while his words get filthier.

“I could take a picture of you right now,” he whispers. “Bent over, wrecked, dripping for me. Post that instead of the selfie. Let everyone really see what you think of me.”

You whimper, clenching around his fingers, but he pulls them out with a wet sound and smacks your ass once, making you jolt.

“Uh-uh,” he says darkly. “Not until I’m buried inside you again.”

He flips you onto your back this time and lifts your legs over his shoulders, bending you in half as he slides back in slowly, watching your face contort in overstimulated pleasure.

“Still so tight,” he groans, fucking you with a slow, deep rhythm that drives you insane. “You gonna give me another one, baby? Gonna come all over my cock this time?”

You nod, already trembling, but Jake doesn’t pick up the pace. He holds you there, legs trembling in the air, his abs flexing as he keeps that same maddening tempo. Each stroke pressing deep, filling you to the brim, keeping you just at the edge.

Your hands grip the sheets. “Jake, please—please, I’m so close—”

His thumb brushes over your clit again, this time firmer. Faster.

“Then give it to me,” he growls. “Show me how desperate you are. Show me who owns this pussy.”

Your orgasm crashes into you harder than the last—your body arching, thighs shaking, moaning his name like a mantra. Jake keeps moving through it, riding out every tremble, every squeeze, until you’re writhing beneath him.

But even then, he’s still not done.

He slows down, pulling out, his cock still hard and glistening. You think he’s finally giving you a break, but then he pulls you up, dragging you into his lap.

“Ride me,” he says, voice like gravel. “Nice and slow. Let me feel you break.”

You barely have the strength, but your body obeys, lowering onto him again with a gasp. He watches every second—his girl, all fucked out and dazed, still chasing his touch.

You roll your hips against him, his hands gripping your waist, guiding you just how he wants. His lips brush your collarbone, murmuring praise between moans.

“That’s it. Just like that. Keep going, baby. I want every last drop of you.”

And he keeps you going, guiding you through one more orgasm, then another, until your body is nothing but shaking limbs, fucked full and marked by every place he touched.

And only then, when you can barely whisper his name—does he finally let go, groaning into your shoulder as he spills inside you again, holding you tight to his chest while both your bodies tremble in sync.

When it’s over, you collapse against him, completely spent.

“God, I fucking love you and his pussy.”

[greengoblinswifey]

Show me- Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

warnings: jealous!reader, 69, possessive rafe, unprotected sex, degrading kink, praise kink, rough sex, face slapping, choking, rafe is a sweetheart at the end, s4 ep 3 spoiler kinda.

A part of you was glad Rafe was wary of the cougar. The cougar— she wasn’t that important for you to memorize her name. She was getting too close to your “man” or whatever you and Rafe were. It didn’t matter, he was yours and you were wary of her the moment you met her couple nights ago.

“I don’t trust her,” you add.

“Oh yeah? I think you’re a little jealous,” Rafe saw right through you.

“Jealous?”

“Yeah, jealous.”

“No.” Your faces are inches away from each other and your eyes dart down to his lips.

“Cougar on the prowl?” he replied, playfully taunting you and you giggle. “I’m not an idiot, they think I’m an idiot but, they’ll see how Camerons do business.”

“Show me,” you reply. He felt your breath against his lips as your brown eyes stare into his.

“Show you what princess?”

“Show me how you do business.”

Rafe’s eyes darken as he grabs you by the waist, pulling you against him with a force that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, all hunger and heat, the taste of him overwhelming. His hand snakes up to your throat, wrapping firmly around it, not enough to hurt, but enough to make your pulse quicken, sending a jolt of excitement down your spine.

The kiss is wild, desperate, teeth clashing, tongues tangling as he dominates every inch of your mouth. You can’t help but grind your hips against his bulge, feeling the hardness pressing against you. A moan escapes your lips, and you push against him, needing more, needing him closer.

But Rafe pulls back slightly, his lips hovering just above yours as he growls, “Calm down, you needy little slut.”

His grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your breath hitch, and he smirks, his voice low and rough. “You jealous of some old bitch? You think I’d want anyone but you?” His eyes are burning with possessiveness now, and you can feel his cock twitch beneath your grinding. “I’m gonna fuck you so good, show you exactly who this cock belongs to.”

His words send a shiver through you, and you gasp as he pushes you back into the outdoor chair, the cool fabric brushing against your heated skin. “Spread your legs,” he commands, voice dripping with dominance. You obey instantly, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in your belly.

He kneels in front of you, hands pushing your thighs apart as his breath ghosts over your aching core. “You’re mine,” he growls before diving in, his tongue lapping at your folds, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your entire body. His grip on your hips is rough, holding you in place as you try to squirm beneath him, overwhelmed by the intensity of his mouth. He’s devouring you like a man starved, his tongue flicking, teasing, sucking until your mind is spinning.

“And I’m yours,” he adds.

You whimper, your hands fisting in the little hair he has, trying to pull him closer, needing more. He chuckles darkly against your skin, pulling back just enough to look up at you with a wicked grin. “Oh, I’m not done with you yet,” he says, his voice dripping with promise.

Rafe stands, grabbing your hand and yanking you up, pulling you into the house and straight to the bedroom. He throws you down onto the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of lust and control. “Now, I’m gonna show you,” he murmurs, climbing onto the bed beside you, his body pressing against yours.

He pulls you into position, straddling his face while his cock hovers above your lips. “We’re gonna 69, baby,” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “And I’m gonna remind you who you belong to.”

Without another word, his mouth is on you again, tongue plunging into your folds, while his thick cock presses against your lips, begging for your attention. You take him into your mouth, feeling him swell against your tongue as you moan around him, lost in the shared rhythm of pleasure, both of you pushing each other closer to the edge.

Rafe's deep moans vibrate against your core as you both lose yourselves in the intensity. His tongue is relentless, flicking against your clit with just the right amount of pressure, sending shocks of pleasure through your body. His thick cock is heavy in your mouth, and as you hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, you hear his breath hitch, a throaty moan escaping his lips.

Between your legs, Rafe pulls back just slightly, voice husky as he asks, “You like how I do business, baby?”

Your eyes flutter as you hum around him, the vibrations of your answer sending shivers down his spine. “Yes, sir,” you manage to gasp between moans before he thrusts into your mouth, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Your mouth stretches wide to accommodate him as you struggle to take more, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes from the fullness.

Suddenly, Rafe’s mouth is back on your pussy, ravishing you with a ferocity that has you gasping. His tongue works its magic, swirling, sucking, licking until you’re a trembling mess above him. Without warning, the tension snaps, and you squirt all over his face, your body convulsing in overwhelming pleasure as his tongue laps it all up.

“Ride me, bitch,” he growls, voice thick with lust. “Show me that you know I’m yours and make me cum.”

You don’t hesitate. Climbing off him, you position yourself over his cock, feeling the slick heat of your arousal as you sink down onto him. The stretch is intense, and you cry out, your body trembling as you take him deeper, every inch filling you to the brim. Your pace is wild, desperate, and you scream out as his cock hits that perfect spot deep inside you.

Rafe’s hand wraps around your throat, his grip firm but teasing, cutting off your breath just enough to make your head spin. Your curly hair bounces with each thrust and he reaches up, tangling his fingers in your coils, tugging your head down to make you look at him. His eyes are locked on yours, dark and possessive, as he forces you to glance down at your own stomach, the bulge in your belly where his thick cock is buried deep inside you.

“Look at that,” he groans, voice thick with pride. “Look how deep I am in you.”

The sight is enough to send you over the edge again. Your body shudders, your legs quaking as you scream his name, cumming hard all over his cock. Your moans are broken, breathless, as you ride out the intense pleasure, gripping his arms for support as your body melts against him.

Rafe’s grip on your throat tightens just enough to remind you who’s in control, his own groans mixing with yours as he holds you there, feeling every wave of pleasure ripple through you.

Rafe's palm cracks against your cheek, the sting of the slap sending a jolt through your body. He doesn’t give you time to recover before he shoves you roughly onto your back, his hand immediately gripping your throat as he slams into you, the force of his thrusts making the bed creak beneath you. His eyes are dark, possessive, and he’s chasing his own release, fucking you so hard you can barely breathe.

“You’re my bitch,” he growls, his lips brushing against your ear. “My good girl, my baby, my princess.” Each word is punctuated by a rough thrust that leaves you gasping, your body arching up into him as you cling to the edge of another orgasm. “I’m your daddy, no one has me like you do, no one will ever have me the way you do, no one does it for me like you.”

Tears spill down your cheeks as you cry out, the intensity of his words and the rhythm of his hips pushing you over the edge again. You scream, your entire body trembling as you cum, muscles contracting around him, gripping him tight. But Rafe isn’t done. He fucks you even harder, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision as you whimper beneath him. Another slap to your face makes your head spin, and just as he’s on the verge of release, he pulls out, his breath ragged and heavy.

With a guttural groan, Rafe pumps his cock, cumming all over your mouth and tits. The warmth of his seed covers you, and before you can catch your breath, he grabs your coils, forcing your head down toward your own chest. His grip is firm but not painful, and you follow his lead, your tongue flicking out to lick up his cum from your perky breasts, swallowing every drop as it mixes with what’s already in your mouth.

“Stick your tongue out,” he commands, voice low and rough.

You obey, and his semi-hard dick slaps against your cheek as he chuckles darkly. “That’s my good little bitch,” he whispers, his hand still tangled in your hair. “That’s my good girl.”

When he’s satisfied, he pulls back, the intense dominance fading as he lays down beside you, pulling you into his arms for a brief moment of tenderness. The warmth of his body presses against yours as you both catch your breath. After a moment, Rafe slips out of bed and grabs a towel, cleaning you up gently as if his roughness never happened. He moves with care, wiping the cum from your skin while you watch him, your chest still heaving from the intensity of it all.

As he pulls on his shirt, you sit up, adjusting your bonnet over your curly hair, still watching him in silence. He catches your gaze, his expression softening in a way you’ve never seen before. Moving closer, Rafe leans in, whispering in your ear so quietly that you almost miss it.

“I love you.”

The words shock you, leaving you frozen as he stands up, offering a smile before walking away, leaving you to process everything he just said.

A/N- Love me some Rafe, requests are open for him, JJ, and Pope.

[muwapsturniolo]

Munchies 🐰ྀི C. Sturniolo

"Don't want food."

⟢ NSFW CONTENT AHEAD!!! mentions of smoking, Chris having munchies, cannibal!Chris (say sum i dare you). oral, (f), fingering, squirting, overstimulation.

divider and cannibal chris cred @bernardsbendystraws

Starving.

Chris was starving, his stomach feeling like it was caving in on itself. He had smoked outside about thirty minutes before, the grape-flavored wrap along with the weed doing nothing but making him even more hungry, and the longer he sat, the worse it got.

It was simple, he had the munchies - but not for food.

With hazy eyes, he looks down at the girl's thighs, licking his lips as he stares at the soft, plump skin. He could feel his mouth salivating at the thought of tasting her. He lazily taps her thigh with two fingers, immediately capturing the girl's attention.

She looks away from the tv, her eyes wide in curiosity as she stares at him.

"M'hungry," he mutters softly, placing his palms on her thigh a bit higher up than usual. "Did you want me to make you something to eat?" He hums lazily, eyeing her thighs once more before shaking his head.

"Don't want food."

She gasps softly as he drops to the ground in front of the couch, quickly yanking down her shorts and pushing her legs to her chest.

"Chris we're on the co-I don't care."

He spits directly on her clit, the girl flinching at the feeling. He looks at her expectantly, commanding her with his eyes.

She trails her right hand toward her center and begins rubbing his spit into her folds, whimpering at the pleasurable feeling. He watches with hungry eyes, enjoying the way her own slick exudes and mixes with his spit.

He needed her, all of her, and quickly.

He slaps her hand away and immediately dives in, his mouth attaching itself right to her clit. Her jaw drops in shock, a moan leaving her mouth as her hands tangle in his hair.

He moans into her, his tongue swirling around her clit before licking in between her folds, scooping her essence into his mouth.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he heaves as he continues to devour her, his nose and chin already glistening with her juices. His fingers dig into her thighs, surely leaving bruises as he pushes them towards her chest.

Lewd slurping and squelching noises mixed with her moans and his groans were all you heard, their sounds overpowering the volume of the TV. She could feel her own slick and his spit trailing down her ass and onto the couch, soaking the fabric and creating a wet patch.

Chris knew he was being messy, but he couldn't find it in himself to care.

He was a starved man eating the best meal in the world.

He just couldn't get enough.

He lays his tongue down flat, shaking his head back and forth before wrapping his mouth around her clit once more, easily sliding two fingers into her clenching hole and curling them right against that sensitive spot.

She moans loudly, throwing her head back and clenching her eyes shut at the pleasurable feeling. It was embarrassing at how quick her orgasm was forming, but Chris didn't care - it drove him to keep going.

Her fingers yank at his hair as her orgasm hits her in full throttle, her eyes rolling back as her vision goes white. She fully expected him to stop, to let her bask in the afterglow and give her the soft kisses he usually does, but that didn't happen.

He keeps going.

Her back arches off the couch as his tongue flicks over clit at a rapid speed, his fingers still curling inside her.

"F-fuck!" she gasps and looks down at him, watching the way he munches away at her happily with closed eyes.

It was too much, but it felt too good to stop, her hips grinding against his face as her body greedily begged for more pleasure. Her moans turn into deep and sharp breaths, almost as if she is doing a breathing exercise, as she feels her second orgasm approaching.

She could feel the difference, the pressure on her bladder, and her thighs shaking.

"Chri-" she lets out a high-pitched moan, almost a scream, as he begins curling his fingers faster and applying more pressure.

Her whole body tenses as the second orgasm washes over her, tears forming in her eyes as he works her through it. Her juices had splashed all over Chris's face, drenching him, the couch, and the floor in its wake.

Chris wasn't fully satisfied, but he knew after squirting she couldn't handle any more pleasure for at least half an hour. He pulled away from her soaked cunt, pulling his fingers out before popping them in his mouth and licking them clean, moaning at the taste.

She lays against the couch, panting with tears in her eyes as she tries to calm herself down. He stands to his full height, scooping the girl up in his arms and walking downstairs towards his room.

"Th-the cou- Fuck the couch, I'm still hungry."

[vanteguccir]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤLEFT HAND * MATT STURNIOLO

SUMMARY　::　where Matt hurt his right wrist during a horse ride for a video, but who said that a wrist guard would hold him back from fucking Y/N with his fingers?

FEATURING　Matt Sturniolo x reader 　REQUESTED?　no.

WARNINGS　::　smut (mdni), switch!Matt, switch!Y/N, fingering, pet names, injuries, and pain.

AUTHOR'S NOTE　::　that is my work, I DON'T authorize any form plagiarism; copy, "inspiration" or translation! | english isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²　::　this is a repost of an old fanfic of mine that got deleted by tumblr! *if you've read it when I posted it last year, you can read it again because I changed almost everything.

The spacious room was dimly lit, with only a soft glow from the bedside lamp casting shadows on the walls. In the bed, the blankets were already a mess, twisted, and kicked to the side as if they had no place in the heat currently going on by its side. 

The scent of Matt - clean, slightly musky, and overwhelmingly comforting - mixed with the faint trace of Y/N's perfume created an intoxicating blend that only heightened the tension.

Matt's lips were on hers, his mouth moving with an almost reckless need, tasting, devouring, drinking her in like she was the only thing that could stop his thirst. His tongue pushed past her lips, slick and desperate, tangling with hers in a messy dance that left no room for air. The taste of him - warm, slightly sweet, and entirely intoxicating - spread through her mouth, mixing with the faint traces of mint and something purely him.

A low, needy moan vibrated from the back of her throat, swallowed immediately by Matt, who only deepened the kiss, his breath mingling with hers, hot and uneven, almost creating a cloud between them. Saliva slicked their lips, making every pull and drag of his mouth against hers wetter, sloppier, easier.

His left hand tangled in her hair, fingers tightening just enough to keep her exactly where he wanted. His thumb stroked the hinge of her jaw, dragging slow and teasing before slipping down to press against her throat, feeling the rapid pulse beneath his digit.

Their lips parted only for a moment, a groan coming from Matt diving into her mouth, the sound reverberating against her lips.

Y/N's hands roamed over his shoulders and chest, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch, the warmth of his skin under his shirt. The fabric had ridden up, exposing the soft flesh of his stomach, and she couldn’t help but run her hands over the small rolls, feeling the tension in his body under her fingers. Every soft sigh and groan from him was like music to her ears, something that had her head spinning.

Matt's right hand, encased in a black wrist guard, hovered hesitantly before it found its way to her waist, fingers toying with the hem of her cotton shorts. The pain in his wrist flared slightly with each movement, a horrible reminder of his earlier accident - which made him regret all his choices about going horse riding for a video - but he swallowed the pain, determined to ignore it.

He had been so careful all week, listening to his brothers and the doctor, not using his hand any more than absolutely necessary. But now, with Y/N against him, her lips swollen from his kisses, her pupils dilated, the need was unbearable. 

He needed more.

He needed to touch her, to feel her, to have his fingers buried deep inside her where she was warm and wet.

He almost could feel her heartbeat under his fingertips when he moved them, quick and unsteady. His fingers tugged at the fabric of her shorts, trying to slip underneath, to find the heat he wanted so much. 

But then it all stopped.

Too sudden.

Y/N's hand grabbed his bicep, halting his movements while pulling away abruptly. Her eyes met his.

"Matt, you can't." She whispered, her voice soft but firm, the kind of tone that made him both love and hate how much she cared. "The doctor said you shouldn’t use your right hand. It’s going to hurt you more, and you know that."

Matt's breathing was ragged, his face a mixture of frustration and desperation. He pressed his forehead against hers with a thud, trying to steady his racing pulse.

"But I need it." He pleaded like a small child, his voice rough and thick with need. "I need to feel my fingers inside you. Please... just- just for a lil bit-"

His words were an urgent whisper against her lips, followed by a soft whimper that made her heart ache. Her hand moved up, cupping his cheek, thumb brushing over his swollen bottom lip.

"Honey." She murmured, trying to keep her voice steady. "I know you want to. And I want you to, too. But you need to heal. You can’t hurt yourself more just because we’re both desperate to fuck."

Matt let out the most wrecked, frustrated groan, tilting his head back like he was physically in pain from holding back.

"Fuck." He breathed, his voice strained and needy. He squeezed his eyes shut, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, trying - failing - to ground himself. 

He felt like he was burning alive, every inch of his body aching for her, every nerve begging for relief.

His left hand trembled as it slid down from her hair, over her side, gripping at anything he could touch before he cupped her pussy through her shorts.

"Please." He whined, his fingers pressing into the damp heat, the fabric doing nothing to hide how soaked she was. His breath stuttered, and his head dropped against her shoulder as he cursed again, voice barely more than a breathless moan. "Baby, fuck- you're so wet. You’re so-"

"Matt." Y/N muttered, her voice a mix of a plea and a warning. She covered his hand with hers, trying to stop him, but her thighs said otherwise, clenching at the feel of his palm pressed so firmly against her. "You're hurt-"

He opened his eyes, and the sheer desperation in them made her words falter. His pupils were blown wide, small droplets of sweat glistening on his messy haired forehead, his lips a pretty pink, his whole body trembling against hers.

"I don’t care." He whispered, voice cracking. "I don’t care about the fucking pain or my shitty wrist, I- m'just need you. Please, Y/N, just lemme-" His hand pressed up harder, chasing the friction, his hips rolling against their bed like he couldn’t help himself.

His right hand, despite the pain, fumbled at her shorts, his fingers weak, shaking as he tried to push them down.

"Need it so bad i'fucking hurts." He whimpered, voice thick and wrecked. "Can't y'feel it? How m'feelings are hurt? My cock?"

Dramatic little shit.

Y/N’s resolve was crumbling fast, her own need mixing with the sheer desperation pouring off him in waves. 

"Okay." She whispered, their breaths mingling, their lips barely apart. "But we go slow. If it hurts too much, you stop. Deal?"

Matt nodded furiously, relief flooding his face, his fingers immediately slipping lower. His hand shook as he brushed over her pussy, the barest touch making her suck in a sharp breath.

He took his time, eyes locked on her face, watching. His fingers finally found her clit, rubbing slow, teasing circles over the thin fabric, the friction making her hips stutter against his touch.

"Oh, fuck-" Her head tipped back, her nails digging into his clothed shoulders.

She’s dizzy, floating in some soft, cloudy realm where only Matt exists, gasping when he bites at her exposed throat and sucks sharply, the sting of pain shooting down into her pussy without missing a beat.

"That’s it." He breathed against her skin, his voice thick with want. "Is it good, baby? Hm? You can admit it. Y'can tell me how much you want my fingers inside you."

Y/N whimpered, and Matt groaned, his tongue flicking against the sensitive spot below her ear. His fingers pressed harder, dragging another moan from her lips, and he chuckled breathlessly, the sound vibrating against her neck.

"Fuck, angel." He murmured. "Can feel how wet you're. Just say the word, and I’ll give it to you."

"I want it." She breathed out, her voice barely more than a whisper. Her hips moved on their own, trying to chase something, anything, the heat inside her walls growing more insistent. "Please, Matt, I want- I need it."

He smirked, brushing his lips from the spot below her ear to her jaw, softly licking her chin before finally capturing her lips in another kiss. His left hand met his right one on her waistband, mixing her shorts with her panties before tugging both down.

He tried to focus on the feel of her lips, the taste of her mouth, using it to distract himself from the ache in his wrist with the movements.

Matt managed to pull the clothing down just enough, his right fingers finally having direct contact with her warm pussy. He exhaled shakily inside her mouth as his fingers slid over her folds, parting them.

"God- all that f'me." He breathed out, his voice a low, reverent murmur, the slick sound of her wetness echoing like music to his ears. "’ve wanted this all week, y'know? This stupid wrist wouldn't let me touch m'girl."

Y/N’s breath hitched, watching him with smart eyes as her hips moved into his touch.

He kept his left hand against her hip, using it for balance while his right one moved with a kind of practiced ease. His thumb found Y/N's clit, circling the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure.

The wetness around it made him groan, forcing him to straight up his upper body so he could give all his attention to her pussy, the sensation nearly enough to make him forget about his wrist guard.

But it was too good to be true.

The moment his thumb changed the rhythm to up and down along her clit length, a sudden sharp pain shot through his wrist, like a knife stabbing up his arm. He went still, the breath catching in his throat, and Y/N noticed immediately.

Her eyes, glazed with pleasure, suddenly regained consciousness, filling with concern. She forced her feet against the edge of the bed, pushing herself away from him, looking down at his arm with worry etched on her features.

"Matt?" She asked, voice shaky. "Hey, let it go. Let it go. It’s okay. Are you okay?"

He blinked at her, the pain mingling with the overwhelming desire that still thrummed through his veins.

It was almost absurd, this whole situation. 

No. Actually, he was pretty sure it was absurd.

Here he was, with the most beautiful girl in the world, touching her, and all he could do was wince like an idiot because of a stupid injury. 

The absurdity of it made him laugh, a breathless, incredulous sound that bubbled up from his chest.

"Y/N, I’m fine." He chuckled, the sound strained but genuine. "Just... this damn wrist. Hurts like hell."

Y/N's eyes widened with concern.

"Matthew, that's not funny! We won't-"

But she was quickly interrupted with Matt shaking his head, silencing her worries by gently pulling his hand away from her core, pretending not to notice how her hips moved, searching for it again instinctively. 

He moved up, pressing his lips against hers in a soft, soothing kiss, his laughter still hanging in the air between them. His kisses were filled with reassurance, his uninjured hand cradling her cheek as he pressed his body closer to hers. 

"Shh, it's okay." He murmured against her mouth, his tone light, trying to ease the worry that lingered in her eyes. "You always worry too much, you know that?"

She pouted against his swollen lips, a little furrow appearing between her brows. 

"Well, someone has to look out for you, Matt. Y'always getting into trouble." Her voice was a mix of seriousness and affection, the worry not entirely gone from her eyes.

Matt didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sealed their lips in a slow, teasing touch, stealing the last of her protests before deepening it. His tongue swept over the hood of her mouth - warm and wet, his body pressing close, melting away any lingering frustration she had.

"Okay, so maybe the right hand’s out of commission." He murmured against her lips, his breath warm as he pulled his chin back just enough to speak, the tip of his tongue tracing against her lower lip. "But I’ve got another hand, don’t I?" The top of her pearly teeth scraped his upper lip, tickling the sensitive skin.

When he pulled away just slightly, his grin was lazy and confident. 

"I mean, I know I’m right-handed, but how hard can it be?" He wiggled the fingers of his left hand, the movement catching the bedside lamp’s glow.

Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, the daze of his kisses fading just enough for her to register his words. She pulled back, her brows arching as she took him in with a skeptical once-over.

"Matt, you’ve never used your left hand for anything like this. Well, for nothing at all, actually.” He nodded his head sideways. “What makes you think you can now?" Despite her words, there was a hint of amusement in her tone, her lips twitching into a small smile.

His grin widened, a devilish gleam lighting up his eyes. 

"Well, there’s a first time for everything, right? Besides, I’ve got the best motivation in the world right here." He murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned down, brushing his lips over hers again. Her taste was his addiction.

She squinted her eyes.

"Just let me try, baby. I promise I’ll make it good f´you. I always do, hm?"

Y/N bit her lip, her teeth tickling his in the process, torn between wanting to keep him safe and the desire that still pulsed through her, that seemed to only intensify with his words. Finally, she gave a small nod, her hands sliding down his shoulders.

"Okay. But be careful, Matt." She warned, her voice soft. “I don't want to run to the hospital right now.”

“Y´wont need to, angel.”

His left hand reached her bare pussy, caressing her mons pubis, feeling the freshly-shaved skin and taking his time in there - getting close to her clit and then retreating again, until he had Y/N’s hips moving against his hand again, her thighs clenching around his hips and her voice breaking while begging.

"Matt, please." She whimpered, squirming beneath him, her hands squeezing his wrist. "Don't tease."

There. That's exactly the reaction that he was waiting for.

He paused, stopping his movements, his injured hand pressing just slightly against her bare waist.

"What do you need, baby? I'm giving you what you wanted, right? For me to go easy..."

"No- I know, just- just touch me. Please." Her voice came out in a whisper, her teeth caging her bottom lip, trying to keep her hips steady, not wanting to hurt him.

Matt's lips formed a cocky smile, letting his left fingers travel down, sliding through her clit and, finally, stopping by her hole with the preciseness of someone who had done so a million times before.

"I love how wet I can make you, dove." He murmured, his voice a mix of awe and desire. "You have no idea how much I adore feeling you like this."

His fingers traced her entrance, teasing, testing the waters before he pressed just the tip of one finger inside her. The sensation was electric, a spark that shot through both of them, making Y/N sigh, her hands flying from his wrist to his shoulders, tightening around his shirt.

Matt moved slowly, his finger pushing deeper, knuckle by knuckle, letting her adjust to the intrusion. The feeling of her walls tightening around his digit, warm and slick, causing him to groan low in his throat.

"God, y´feel so good." He breathed, his voice a husky whisper. “M´never getting tired of it."

Y/N’s head was spinning, her senses overwhelmed by his touch, his words, the heat of his body against hers. She could feel her arousal pooling, a tight coil of need building inside her, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. Her hips moved in small circles, meeting his movements, encouraging him. 

"More." She whispered, her voice breathless, filled with need. "Please, Matt, I need more."

He pressed a kiss to her lips, caressing her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue before sucking the sensitive skin, muffling her plea, his finger slowly beginning to pump in and out of her, each movement careful.

He crooked his digit, aiming for that spot nestled deep in her body, right where he knew it would feel best, his thumb brushing against her clit with every thrust, drawing soft moans from her.

"Is that what y´needed?" He asked, letting her bottom lip go with a soft ‘pop’, smirking.

He let her pull away when her lungs begged for air, watching the way she rolled her hips back and forth, the squelching wetness sounds of fingers fucking into her dripping hole making Matt's cock throb painfully.

"Ye-yeah, so good." She breathed out, her chin moving while searching for his lips again, unsuccessfully. "Matt-"

He, by surprise, added a second finger, stretching her, filling her more completely. 

"Yes, that's it." She whined desperately when he moved slowly in, letting her adjust, savoring the feel of her around him.

Y/N stuttered on her own exhale, hiccupping high in her throat as Matt resumed his movements, pressing the pad of his fingers right against her sweet spot repeatedly, fucking into her leisurely. The brunette spread his fingers into a V shape, making Y/N moan louder, her hands tangling in his hair, tugging as she lost herself in the sensation.

He could feel her walls clenching around his knuckles, her body tightening as the pleasure built, each thrust sending a wave of heat through her.

"Feeling good, sweetheart? Is m´left hand making you feel the best?" Matt purrs, thoroughly pleased at the way he's giving all the pleasure to his girl.

Y/N´s fast nods and little whimpers have Matt’s eyelashes fluttering, his hips jolting between her thighs and mattress, causing the girl to squeak in response, her lips trembling as they formed a soft 'o', the heat simmering in the low pit of her stomach burning brighter and brighter with each messy thrust, Matt's fingers rubbing soothing circles with each sharp jut of his wrist. Wetness squelched between her thighs, making their bed wet and messy.

"Yeah-eah, Matt, fuck- S´fucking good. M´so close." She warns, the words coming out soft and whiny, laced with a kind of need Matt would recognise anywhere. "Please..."

Matt laughs softly.

"Always so easy, huh, sweetheart?" He was quick to pick up the pace, his fingers curling inside her, and Y/N whined in response.

"Shut up." The girl complains.

Mercifully, Matt does, and their mumbled words are replaced again with the sound of laboured breathing and heady, desperate little noises, trembling as Matt grinds his fingers into her in lazy but extremely deep little circles. Y/N gasps, rocking down into the feeling as her hands scrabble to grasp at Matt’s arms, nails digging in and lips parting on a moan.

"Baby- Matt, 'm gonna..." Y/N stuttered, her back arching as she fucked back onto his fingers, pink tongue resting against her spit-slick lips, eyes hooded and entirely dazed.

Matt hummed in agreement, kissing along Y/N’s sweaty forehead lovingly as he pressed his own hips against the mattress, his erection straining against the fabric, seeking relief from the pressure that also built inside him. Each thrust of his fingers sent a jolt of pleasure through him, her wetness drenching Matt's hand, coating the long digits in sweet sticky wetness.

"Fuck, Y/N, you’re making a mess in my hand." He groaned against her forehead, his voice a low, breathy whisper. "God, I want to be inside you- I want to fuck you so bad."

His words sent a fresh wave of arousal through her, her walls clenching around his fingers tighter than before, ready to snap.

"Hmm fuck- Want my cock, sweetheart?" He murmurs, nuzzling at her sweaty hair. "Wanna feel my dick fill you up, huh, baby? Such a good girl."

"Wanna ride you." She whines, the confession pulling a barking laugh from Matt.

"Lemme make y´feel good with m´fingers first, yeah?" He says breathlessly.

Y/N's eyes roll back as she clutches Matt tighter to her while rolling her hips harder.

"Pup- fuck... Fuck, please- M´so good f´you, best girl ever." She promises, the sudden words tumbling free as she moves her hand to his hair, pulling hard, the echo of his loud groan sounding numb inside her ears. "In me, God- Please, don’t stop."

He didn’t.

He just increased his pace, his fingers moving faster, deeper, leaving a delicious burning sensation at her wet ring. He could feel her getting closer; her walls tightening more and more, her moans growing louder, her words getting lost.

Matt keened, rutting against the bed nonstop, his own breath ragged and his mind clouded with lust, the need to see her cumming driving him forward.

Y/N's eyes opened momentarily from its position rolled up her skull, looking upwards at the same time he looked at her, locking gazes with him, and Y/N let out the most filthy cry of pleasure, her mouth hanging open as he held her gaze.

"Cum f´me, angel." Matt cooed, his voice rough. Then, he crooked his fingers once again, a sharp thrust sending Y/N tumbling over the edge with a quiet little whine. More wetness gushed out of her, making the slide almost too easy, as Matt twisted his fingers, fucking his pretty girl to her orgasm. "That's it."

The moment she hit her peak, her body convulsed, her walls clenching around his digits, and a high-pitched moan escaped her lips. Her thighs quivered uncontrollably, her hips moving in rhythm with his fingers, riding out her orgasm.

The feeling of her pulsing around him, the wetness, the heat, the smell, the sheer intensity of her release, was almost too much for Matt to bear. His head dropped roughly against her trembling shoulder, kept the pace of his fingers steady, whimpering as he slides his mouth wetly along her shoulder, biting the sweaty skin, his cock head rubbing against the mattress as moans tumble free and meld with Y/N's pulse.

"Shit- babe, come on- cum f-f´me." Y/N whimpered against the side of his head, her hips still moving uncontrollably, her orgasm still burning inside her veins.

Matt huffs a laugh, shaky and cut with a moan.

"Yeah, angel, fuck. Gonna-"

All it takes is Y/N stretching up and nuzzling at the curve of his neck before latching on to a patch of skin and sucking hard to have the boy’s body drawing tight under her as he groans.

"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck, oh, God, Y/N-" His body acted on instinct as it arches, cum dribbling down his dick and soaked his boxer shorts, a shiver running through his spine as his eyes rolled up his skull, his right hand curling painfully around his wrist guard.

As the waves of Y/N´s orgasm finally began to subside, her body relaxed, her muscles going slack. Her breath came in short, ragged gasps, her chest heaving, her skin flushed and glowing. She looked down at him through heavy-lidded eyes, stifling a smile. 

Y/N noses at warm skin until she finds a mouth, kissing it hard and moaning softly, giggling when she pulls back and is greeted with Matt looking so sweetly dazed, lips wet and kissed cherry red, a few beads of sweat trailing down from his temples.

The boy leans in and steals the laughter off her lips for the thousandth time that night, and they sink deeper into the mattress, sighs slipping as they revel in the post-orgasm heat and the closeness and the taste of each other.

"Baby." She whispered, her voice hoarse, a satisfied smile tugging at her lips. "That was... amazing."

Matt couldn’t help the lazy smile that spread across his face, head spinning and heart swelling with pride at the fact she just came hard with only his left hand.

"Hmm, yeah?" He mumble quietly, feeling boneless as little sighs fell from his lips, hitting her cheeks.

She lowered her head, laying her forehead on his shoulder, eyes rolling closed as she nodded slowly.

"Yeah."

He slowly withdrew his fingers, the wetness sticking to his skin glistening against the low light. Matt made a show of backing away only a bit, bringing his hand to his mouth, his plump lips wrapping around his fingers sweetly before finally cleaning it dry with his warm tongue. The digits came out from between his now wet lips seconds later, a 'pop' sound echoing lowly.

He smiled with the way Y/N's eyes watched his movements like a hunter watches its prey before leaning down slowly, caressing her lips against his.

Her taste was still on his tongue, mingling with the salt of sweat.

"I told you I could do it with my left hand." He murmured against her lips, his hand sliding up to cup her cheek. "If the goal is to pleasure you, I will always find a way."

Y/N hummed contentedly, her fingers letting his messy hair go to travel slowly from his neck to his clavicle and shoulders, her right hand wrapping around his biceps, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin.

Her left one kept going, lowering through his arm, leaving a trail of shivers behind before brushing against the band of his wrist guard, a reminder of his injury, and she bit her lip, her head spinning with thoughts of how she could take care of him, just as he had taken care of her.

She shifted slightly.

"Y´know." She said softly, her voice teasing as she moved her face away from his, looking into his eyes. "I think you deserve a little reward for being so... creative with that left hand of yours."

Matt let out a breathy chuckle, his grip on her tightening just slightly before he fully relaxed again, his body still warm and pliant against hers. His dark lashes fluttered as he looked at her through half-lidded eyes.

"There’s no need." He murmured, voice hoarse, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed over her warm skin, fingers barely holding on.

Y/N’s playful expression faltered for a second, her brows drawing together. 

"Why? Are you hurting?" Her bottom lip jutting to form a small pout, her voice quieter, searching his face for any sign of discomfort.

At that, Matt’s brows twitched, his exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by the need to reassure her.

"No, angel." He said quickly, shaking his head, his fingers pressing just a little firmer against her skin as if to anchor her closer. He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, before his gaze flickered downward, his confidence slipping into shyness. "Already came… T´was so good.”

Y/N followed his gaze, wetting her lips when she saw the damp spot against the black fabric. Her eyes flicked back up to him, taking in the way he suddenly looked a little embarrassed, his ears tinged pink, matching with his cheeks.

Matt cleared his throat, shifting his hips just slightly. His voice was softer when he spoke again. 

"Don´t- don´t know if I can handle another now."

Y/N blinked, her heart giving a slow, affectionate thud at the admission. Her lips curled into a smile, impossibly fond, as she reached for him again, her fingers threading through his messy hair, soothing.

"Matt." She breathed, her voice carrying something between love and arousal. "Fuck- pup, you’re so-" She stopped herself, letting out a quiet, breathy laugh as she shook her head.

Matt huffed a small chuckle of his own, though he still refused to meet her gaze for too long. 

"What?"

She cupped his face, tilting it so he had no choice but to look at her. His blue eyes were still heavy-lidded, but there was something else swimming in them now, something raw and so deep. She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, wetting her lips.

"Y´so good to me." She whispered. “I don´t need you to cum again, okay? Wanted to please you. That´s all.”

Matt exhaled, his lips parting slightly, his features relaxing completely at her words. His left hand found her waist again, thumb rubbing absentmindedly over the fabric of her shirt.

"Yeah?" He asked in a murmur, his voice thick with something that made Y/N’s stomach flip.

She let out a quiet hum, leaning in to press a slow, lingering kiss against his lips. Matt keens, lighting up under the simple touch, his body warm and pliant under her touch, and Y/N chuckles softly, nipping his lip before murmuring against his mouth.

"Always, baby."

© vanteguccir

[misserabella]

high and starving

ellie williams x fem reader

synopsis; ellie just needed to taste you.

cw; +18content minors dni!!!, use of drugs (weed), ellie being high and needy, horny sex, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), cum eating, hair pulling, make out sessions, teasing…

ellie was high. really high. and horny. that too. and you looked so beautiful, on your white tank top and short pjs. she could see the peeking of your cotton panties…

her eyes fell to your thighs, plushy, soft. she would die to dive in between them, have her tongue run through your folds to slurp up your juices. she could groan at the through of it. she wanted to devour you. wanted to make you cum over and over and over again. until you couldn’t speak. until you couldn’t even remember your name.

you were busy with a book, not really paying attention to her. she wanted to make you look at her. her tongue dampened her lips as she observed you, taking the last hit of the blunt. she felt dizzy. lost on you. she could feel her pussy throbbing, slick pooling in between her lips.

she neared you, her nose burying herself in your neck so her mouth would taste your skin, softly, wetly. your breath hitched at the sudden feeling, your stomach jumping. you sighed at the second kiss she left on the spot below your ear, breathily inquiring a “what are you doing?” that had her humming.

“want you.” your cheeks flushed, your thighs squishing together when her hand trailed down your stomach and dove underneath your pants and underwear, teasingly. “want to eat you.” you silently whimpered, your legs opening for her. she groaned, biting down on her bottom lip as she pushed into them, her fingers pushing in between your folds, touching your clit. you moaned. you were getting wetter by the minute, your hold faltering on the book and letting it fall onto the bed by your side. “i’m so fucking horny right now.” you gasped as hips grounded against your side. “can i fuck you baby?” her fingers were now surrounding your hole, slightly pushing in, grunting and pushing inside her middle up to the knuckle when you nodded. the gasp that left your lips made her only more eager. her lips were on your neck.

“you always get horny when you smoke.” you moan, your back arching as she crooked her finger.

“come on. i know you like it.” she muttered against your ear, kissing you on the lower part of your neck and making you sigh. “don’t you?” the pushing on a second finger made you moan, and her; chuckle. “of course you do.”

you could hear your pussy squelching with each thrust of her fingers, which only turned the two of you more on. “you’re so fucking wet…” she said, biting down on her lip before pulling them out, making you groan at the loss. you watched as she pushed her fingers inside her mouth, tongue swirling to taste your slick. without any words she quickly tugged from your shorts and panties, pulling them down your legs to take a peek at your drooling pussy. “fuck.” she sighed, you only pushing your legs apart more when she got on her belly, your fingers lacing in her hair as she kissed your inner thighs, quickly latching onto your folds and clit, desperate.

“shit, ellie.” you groaned, watching as her tongue lapped at your arousal, sliding in between your slick folds. her hands gripped tighter your thighs, pushing you closer to her mouth as her green eyes stared into your. you moaned at the sight, your hole clenching against her tongue, and later around it as she pushed inside. “just like that.” she hummed, going back to your clit to tease it with her tongue. you could see in her reddish half-lidded eyes that she was pussy drunk, lazily and messily lapping at you, eyes closing as she moaned at the taste.

you tugged on her hair, making her hum as she sucked on your clit, slightly shaking her head before pulling away and spitting in between your folds. you whimpered, thighs shaking.

she couldn’t even speak, completely loss on your cunt, mind fuzzy. she watched her drool dribble down in between your folds before spreading it with her fingers. your back arched as she pushed her ring middle ones inside, watching your lips stretch around them to take her. she bit down on her lip, moaning when you whimpered as she stared at your cunt being filled and split open by her fingers. you were taking her so easily… “fuck, ellie.” you sighed, moaning when her lips were back on your clit, making your thighs shake. you knew you weren’t gonna last, not when she found your g spot, curling her fingers to hit it over and over and over again. she knew it too by the way your grip tightened on her hair, hums and whines leaving your lips. “i’m gonna cum!” you quickly muttered, moaning as she went faster, sucked harder on that little bundle of nerves.

she didn’t relent until you were gushing inside her mouth, making her groan in pleasure. you always tasted so good. her eyes rolled to the back of her head, tongue desperately lapping at your cum to swallow it whole. you sighed as she fucked your through it, leaving you a trembling mess on her bed as she pulled her fingers out and sucked them clean, her head lazily resting against your shaking thigh.

“feeling better?” you inquired, looking at her hazy reddish green eyes. she was pussy drunk, and being high only made it better. she nodded and you chuckled, trailing your fingers through her auburn hair. “of course you do…”

-

a/n; 🧟 ellie starving for it

@atomicami

[rafes-slut]

Request........Reader and Rafe are just about to watch a movie in bed and she is just gonna bend foward take the remote....but Rafe seeing her from the back like that........tells her to stay put.......and drags down her panties because he needs to have a taste

Hope you will like it

JUST A TASTE

Warnings: Explicit content (18+), oral sex (f!receiving), teasing, slight dominance, language, a little bit of roughness, overstimulation.

The soft glow of the TV illuminated the dimly lit room, casting a warm light over the couch where you and Rafe lounged. Movie nights with him had become a regular thing, though tonight, neither of you were particularly invested in whatever was playing on the screen. The hum of the dialogue droned in the background, and the only thing keeping you focused was the comfortable silence between you.

That was until you reached forward to grab the remote.

Stretching out across Rafe, your short sundress rode up slightly, exposing the soft lace of your panties as you fumbled to grasp the device resting on the coffee table. You barely thought anything of it, not until the room grew unusually quiet—not until you felt his gaze burning into you.

The remote was in your grasp just as Rafe’s large hands found your hips, gripping them firmly. A startled gasp escaped your lips as he held you in place, your body still positioned on all fours over him.

“Stay just like that,” he murmured, voice low and husky, a dark hunger lacing his words.

Your breath hitched. “Rafe—”

But he was already moving, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and tugging them down with ease. The cool air of the room ghosted over your now exposed skin, sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck,” he groaned under his breath, his hands smoothing over your thighs, parting them just a little more.

You barely had time to process before you felt him dive in, his tongue pressing against your already sensitive core. A choked moan slipped past your lips as he licked a slow, deliberate stripe up your slit, savoring every bit of you like he had all the time in the world.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, gripping the cushion beneath you as his grip on your hips tightened.

“Tastes even better than I remember,” he rasped against you before diving back in, tongue working you over with an intensity that left you breathless. He devoured you like a man starved, like he needed this more than his next breath.

Your thighs trembled as pleasure coiled tight in your belly, his mouth relentless, his tongue flicking and swirling in ways that had your moans growing louder. He groaned against you, clearly enjoying the effect he had on you, the vibrations sending a jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Look at you,” he murmured, pulling away just enough to catch his breath before pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “So fucking pretty like this.”

Your body arched instinctively, pushing back against him, chasing more of that intoxicating pleasure. He chuckled darkly at your desperation, his fingers digging into your skin as he held you still.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he cooed, his voice dripping with amusement and something much deeper. “I’m not stopping until you’re shaking for me.”

And just like that, he went back to work, tongue and lips moving in perfect, devastating harmony. Over and over, he pushed you higher and higher, until your body tensed, pleasure crashing into you in waves so intense you thought you might shatter.

Your moans filled the room as you finally came undone, your body trembling just like he promised. Rafe held you through it, his grip unyielding, his mouth still working you over until the aftershocks had you gasping, overstimulated and completely at his mercy.

Only then did he finally pull back, his breath warm against your skin as he placed a final, lingering kiss against your thigh.

“Told you I just needed a taste,” he murmured, voice dripping with satisfaction.

[sttoru]

‘you finally got the results to your recent exams back — all which were passing grades. when breaking the happy news to your boyfriend, he comes up with a way to reward you for your hard work.’

☀︎��tags. older bf!gojo satoru x female reader. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). fluff & smut. kinda porn with plot, kinda not. soft dom satoru; vanilla, praise, dirty talk, cunnilingus, p in v -> unprotected, body worship kinda, spooning position, little bit of breast play, mention of premature ejaculation kinda, creampie, size difference, reader gets called ‘princess, baby, pretty, adorable’. reader wears a short skirt. not beta read because i’m tired.

“oh my god!” you almost drop your phone from the pure shock you just experienced. your hands shake as you look at the unexpected results reflected on the small screen.

satoru, who was minding his business in the kitchen, hurries into the bedroom the moment he hears your shriek. he was prepared to help you out with whatever had caused you to yell so loudly, though was surprisingly met with your beaming smile;

“oh, what got my princess so happy?” he asks with a grin of his own, stepping into the room. his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.

you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’. your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my smart little girl. i’m super proud of you.”

there goes the praise again — making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before. you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he could look into those pretty eyes of yours.

you’re his weakness. he knows you are — he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.

that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love — what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.

“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”

you weren’t born yesterday. you knew exactly what he was indicating. you could tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually dragged along your skin and his tongue that darted out to subtly lick his lips. as if he was preparing to devour a five star meal.

which he was.

“f—ngh, satoru!”your legs were wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands were holding you down by your hips. satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.

your thighs were clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minded; he'd gladly do this again and again if he could. satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.

“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit. he was admiring both the sight and the noises — your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need. the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, c'mon - let me see your face while i eat you out.”

you hesitated, however eventually removed your hands that tried (and failed) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation; his cock begging to be freed from its confines. he wanted to fuck you into oblivion, but today was your day. he longed to satisfy your own desires first.

satoru was nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.

“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch. his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he could properly enjoy you, “you're gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”

his words were true. satoru could get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous. he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress whilst his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.

“t-toru, g'nna cum.” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge. your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny sealed the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt - which is a second away from reaching its orgasm - and sits up on his knees.

satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants. he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”

of course, you nod. you were aching for that release that'd been building up in your lower stomach— needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow satoru's movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.

“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” your partner pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon. he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants — let me hear ‘em.”

whilst you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall and thus couldn’t see that cocky expression he had on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips the right way and lifting one of your legs up properly.

“p-please, i need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end. the warmth radiating from your lover’s body from behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape whilst his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.

his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you felt his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he could last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your gaping hole.

“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got.” the white-haired man grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms — he didn't leave a single inch uncovered. it was almost tortureous: the way he grinded his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.

you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you were indirectly begging him to put it in already and satoru took notice of it. since you had begged once before, he won't coax you into doing it again.

with a light moan, he slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, made satoru murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.

“you're doing so good - taking me so well,” his voice was smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips onto his cock makes him see stars. your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.

you were feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth formed an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the entire room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.

satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens. you were trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses made it hard to match your movements to his.

“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything.” satoru (jokingly) scolds you. this was your reward and he didn't want you putting in any effort if your body couldn’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.

“oh, mmh! too good — fuck!” you mewl. your fingers curl around the bedsheets that moved back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours — intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you could feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.

“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone. he didn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasing my baby well enough?”

you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in — it drove him nuts.

“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time.” satoru comments through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he could fuck his dick deeper into you. the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angles he uses to move inside you.

your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm was right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which was enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.

the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast—its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you were chasing after.

satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock whilst i dump my load all the way into your tight little cunt.”

that was all the encouragement you needed. your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you could feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you could feel the warm essence leavings its evidence in your womb.

the bedsheets underneath your two bodies was drenched in your slick after you calmed down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.

“you did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru utters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead. he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him — loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.

you smile weakly. you were fucked out: completely and utterly. it felt good and you were satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams, “thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”

satoru snickers. you were always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.

“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.” your lover smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you whilst you sleep. i promise."

satoru knew you needed to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.

his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice was the last thing you heard as you faded into an unconscious state;

“i love you so much.”

🏷️: @marimogf @osaemu @screampied @sukuette @sachiyoh @giannitaa @morinuu

[bettystonewell]

ANOTHER NOTCH ON HIS BELT

Read on AO3 || Masterlist

Dean Winchester x Reader

Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex. MDNI 18+ only 1.2k words

Tags: lil’ bit of SMUT, casual sex, Dean needs a hug, light angst

A/N: Summary inspired by the lyrics of the song “Tough” by Lewis Capaldi.

He loves the sex. 

Needs it. 

Craves it. 

The closeness it gives him. The warmth of someone else surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing below or on top of him. He doesn’t care. 

Even with the scrapes and bruises he doesn’t remember which ugly bastard he ganked giving them to him, he’s not ashamed. He just wants to fill up his heart with affection to get him through the next death he knows is inevitable, no matter how hard he tries.

It’s something he can’t escape, except maybe for the night. Tonight, if he’s lucky.

As she pours him another cup, and places the pie he ordered beside his now empty plate, he pretends not to notice. It doesn’t mean he’s not watching. He just continues to hold the conversation with Sam while listening to her greet someone new.

Her voice carries like silk over the chatter of people and the ringing coming from the door. Her hands are clean, her skin soft and inviting as she pulls out her notepad and pen. 

He flicks his head up to exchange a glance, and she actually winks at him. “Can I get you anything else?” 

“Sammy?” He looks his brother’s way, but brings his gaze back to her the second he’s answered.

“Thanks,” he says and reads the badge pinned to her blouse aloud. “That’s a pretty name.” 

The girls in these dives they eat at are always perfect in his eyes. Their lives are just so, even if they don’t see it. 

No scars, at least not from weapons. Pliable flesh he can sink his fingers into. Grab, smooth, lick, taste. Sweet perfume that would fill a home he knows has things littered with the apple pie life he once thought he wanted. 

He’ll tell no one he still does.

He’ll also never tell Sam that’s the real reason he doesn’t bring them to the motel anymore if he can avoid it. It’s easier to leave them when he wakes up and feels out of place.

She walks away, back to the counter whence she came with hips that sway in time to the tick of the dusty old clock on the wall. Past the other patrons and tables full of more coffee and mediocre food. 

Chicken served in nugget form. Sandwiches lathered in sauce. It may be swill and smell closer to ass than edible, but if he plays his cards well, he’ll be devouring something far better tonight.

“Don’t wait up,” he says after downing the scalding liquid in one go. He’s done with waiting. Just needed the last boost of confidence before he goes in for the kill.

He stands up and grabs his phone. Brushes down his jacket, checking there’s nothing on it from the hunt, and looks up to the smile that caught his eye again. 

She’s watching him.

“Don’t do the hot coffee thing,” Sammy bitches, as he walks away.

But while Dean ignores him, a split second frown sours his face. He refuses to let his baby brother see the remark stings. 

It’s not about dipping his stick in the oil, but he’ll let Sam believe it is. The facade is easier than admitting the truth.

He steps up to the counter, where she’s taking some other chumps order, and raises the cup he never put down to gain her attention. There might be a suave grin thrown her way. Definitely a twinkle in his eye.

“Can I get another, sweetheart? Hot, and…just like you?” There’s a wag of his brow now.

“Sure thing, hun,” she says with a chuckle that makes her even more desirable. She doesn’t know how beautiful she is.

He wants to taste. He wants to touch. He wants her arms wrapped around him while he holds her tight. So he takes the opportunity presented to him. A brush of his fingers on hers when she hands the smooth ceramic back to him. Lingering as he gauges for any reaction. Any hint that she’s interested in being his comfort for the night.

“Thanks,” he says through a grin of goof and charm, and she smiles. Doesn’t even move her hand, and he knows he’s in with a chance.

“Can I get you anything else…?” she asks.

“Dean.” He winks.

“Dean,” she repeats, and he wants to hear it again. Underneath him. On top of him. Legs wrapped ‘round his waist as she chants it into his ear. 

He’d settle for it once if it was on her doorstep, following an ‘I had a good time last night,’ and so he’s bolder. His choice of words, just as. “Any chance you’re getting off soon?”

And she chuckles, hearty and soft. Nods her head in consideration, tongue playing with her cheek as she looks him over nice and slow. “You don’t beat around the bush, huh, Dean?” 

“Depends on the carpets,” he says. 

It’s cheesy and cringe and doesn’t even make much sense, but it works. She’s placing the pot of coffee down, leaning in closer to him, hovering over him a couple of hours later in a room that’s both foreign in foundation and comfort.

Plush bedding that’s clean. No smoke or dust or grime in sight. 

A light that never flickers and appliances that don’t buzz.

There’s a thigh on either side of him, bent at the knees just as he wanted. A sheen of sweat between. Her hands, warm and soft, creep over his skin, tracing patterns with tingles that curl his toes and tense the muscles in his shoulders and glutes.

His arms pull her down on him, pushing himself further into her. Giving her more of him, and she moans. He does, too. The squeeze of her walls on the covered tip of his dick is wonderful, but it’s the look in her eyes that does it for him. 

There’s a connection, now, even if there might be none come morning. This lust that he can mistake for adoration is what he needs. What he craves.

He’s wanted. She feels. Her body is alive, and she cries his name. 

“You like that, baby?” he asks with a snap of his hips, savouring the next sound she makes. If they go another round, he’ll do it again. When he’s alone with just his hand, he’ll chase it with the memory of her trembling lips, thighs and chest.

He’s pulling her tit into his mouth. Wide to capture as much of her smooth skin as he can. He’ll remember the saltiness, too. The way her nipple pebbles as his tongue swipes over and around it. The way her pelvis rocks.

She’s grinding down on him. Her fingers are tugging into his hair, and as her nails scrape down to the nape of his neck, he’s pulling her stomach to his. 

He’s grabbing her ass and raising it up. He’s chasing both their highs.

And when it hits, and he feels his balls tighten, and her around him, squeezing him for all he’s worth, he’s burying his nose into the junction between her hairline and ear. Inhaling the soap and shampoo. Her perfume. The sweat on her skin. He’s taking it all in and holding her tight.

In this moment, she’s his. 

The closeness she gives him. The warmth of her surrounding his hardened body. Touching, feeling, writhing on top of him.

He craves her.

He needs her.

And he’ll continue to, because it’s not just about sex. He loves the intimacy.

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa

If you’d like to be added, you can add yourself HERE, or if you’d like to be removed, please let me know ☺️

[thef1diary]

Ghost!max who hasn’t been as active lately so you attempt to tease him and his final straw is when you go to watch videos of other people and breaks your laptop

-🎀

— if you think you can watch porn while Max is lingering around? Yeah nah bye bye laptop, but hey it works in your favour cuz you wanted him anyways 18+ content below

The tension had been unbearable. Max had gone quiet, his usual teasing touches and whispered temptations absent for days, leaving you craving him more than you cared to admit. The chill of his presence no longer swept over you at night, and his absence burned in your veins like an ache you couldn’t soothe.

Fed up with waiting, you decided to provoke him. If he thought he could ignore you, then you’d remind him what he was missing.

The laptop gleamed on your desk, a temptation you couldn’t resist. You searched for videos you knew would set him off, scrolling through explicit thumbnails until you landed on one that made you smirk. It was a recording of a woman pinned against a wall, her thighs shaking as a man took her mercilessly, his hand tangled in her hair while he growled filthy promises into her ear. You hit play, letting the audio spill into the room as you shifted in your seat, sliding your hand beneath the waistband of your shorts.

Your fingers danced over your clit, teasing yourself slowly as you glanced at the screen, imagining the weight of a man’s body—his body—pinning you down. “If you won’t satisfy me, I’ll find other ways,” you muttered aloud, your voice laced with challenge, knowing full well he could hear you.

The response was immediate. The temperature in the room dropped sharply, and the lights flickered violently. Before you could process what was happening, the laptop slammed shut with a deafening crack. You barely had time to gasp before it was hurled across the room, smashing against the wall with enough force to make you jump.

“You’ve got some nerve,” his voice hissed, low and venomous, echoing from every corner of the room.

Before you could respond, an invisible force yanked your chair backward, pinning you in place. Your shorts and panties were ripped away in one smooth motion, leaving you bare to the cool air. His presence swirled around you, suffocating, oppressive, as ghostly hands spread your thighs wide.

“You wanted attention? Fine,” he growled. “But don’t think for a second this ends on your terms.”

Two fingers plunged into your dripping cunt, his touch cold yet searing, stretching you without warning. You cried out, your back arching as he thrust into you mercilessly, setting a brutal pace that left you breathless.

He curled his fingers just right, hitting the spot that made you see stars. “Max—oh god, Max—”

“I didn’t tell you to speak.” His voice sent shivers down your spine as he added another finger, stretching you further, your slick coating his hand. “You wanted to act like a desperate little brat? Now you’ll take what I give you.”

The first orgasm hit hard and fast, your walls clenching around his fingers as he pushed you over the edge without mercy. Your scream echoed through the room, but he didn’t stop.

Instead, he dropped to his knees, his cold breath brushing over your sensitive skin before his tongue replaced his fingers. The sensation was overwhelming—his mouth devouring you with unrelenting hunger, his lips and tongue working in perfect rhythm to wring another orgasm from your trembling body.

“Max, I can’t—please—”

“You thought you had me right where you wanted me, didn’t you?” he murmured darkly, pulling back for just a moment before diving back in, his tongue sliding deep inside you.

Your second orgasm ripped through you, leaving you a shaking, sobbing mess, but he still didn’t relent. He moved back up, his fingers plunging into you again, curling and scissoring as he drove you to another peak, your cries turning into incoherent pleas.

By the time he finally released you, you were too wrecked to move. But the torment wasn’t over. His cock—thick, unyielding, and impossibly cold—pressed against your hole, and with one hard thrust, he buried himself to the hilt.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned, his voice rasping as he set a brutal pace, pounding into you with no mercy. Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, pushing you closer to the edge even as you begged for relief.

He pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, your body trembling and oversensitive as the pleasure mingled with pain. By the sixth, you were crying, tears streaming down your cheeks as you gripped at nothing, his name a broken sob on your lips.

“I can’t—Max, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, his pace never faltering. “You’ll take everything I give you.”

Your final orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your body convulsing violently as your vision blurred. The edges of your consciousness faded, but just before you blacked out, you heard his voice echoing around the room through the spirit box, soft and possessive, ghostly lips brushing against your ear.

“Don’t ever try to replace me.”

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[see-arcane]

Our good friend Jonathan Harker is getting ready to leave for his business trip, Mina Murray is picking out a new journal, Lucy Westenra is charming a gaggle of smitten suitors, Abraham van Helsing is wrapping up his lectures, and Castle Dracula is prepping the guest room for a very long stay.

Which must mean that Dracula Season is here again!

 ‘Dracula Season’ being a catchall term for the voracious reading, memeing, writing, illustrating, analyzing, and general fun-having that’s ensued since Matt Kirkland’s project, Dracula Daily, caught on with us back in 2022. The Substack had already been running before then, but it sparked a conflagration as time went on and readers old and new to Bram Stoker’s Dracula—the actual novel, not Coppola’s fanfiction—devoured it in a way that scratched an itch none of us knew we had. Stoker wrote the book in epistolary fashion, clumping sections together as needed for the pacing without perfect adherence to chronological order. Matt went ahead and put all the events in order and proceeded to set up a lovely chain of emails that delivered entries on those correlating dates.

This style of organization and pacing turned out to not only make the virtual book club that much easier to engage with, but left space in-between to stew on the story and relate with the characters themselves. Every day of waiting in the book feels weightier when you have to pace and sweat and worry in tandem with poor Jonathan trapped in the castle or Lucy wasting away or Mina running out the clock before she loses the fight for her own humanity. And while we sat with the story or the lulls between Dracula Seasons, some of us found ourselves craving more of that ghastly gothic horror goodness to the point that we figured:

“Well. Why don’t I make something?”

And then we did! Tons of creative works have been churned out in the wake of Dracula Daily’s high. I figured that while we’ve still got a bit of time to wait for May 3rd, we should check out all this new stuff in the meantime. (Plus a handful of neat stuff that just clicks with the Dracula itch overall.)

So, in the interest of Dracula Season pregaming, let’s take a look at…

FICTION

Blood of My Blood – A recent addition to the Dracula Bad Ending AU pile, and definitely one of the most harrowing and addictive group-produced narratives I’ve ever come across, Blood of My Blood is the dramatically gothic currently-WIP work of @ibrithir-was-here and @animate-mush’s devious design. Give or take a heap of other fascinated folks (hello!) adding ideas to put more Horror into the Horrors that our cast has to face. The premise:

The Transylvanian climax went fatally sour and the Harkers were forced to shelter with Dracula himself, including their half-vampire son, Quincey. Cut to two decades later, and Quincey finds himself out in modern London, smitten with Lu, adopted daughter of Arthur and Jack, and diving into certain bloodstained old documents that detail the real history of how his parents came to live in the castle. Said revelations coming not a moment too soon, as a storm is coming for him straight from the Carpathians…

Dracula Daily Sketch Collection – An array of illustrations that captures every entry beat by beat, the Dracula Daily Sketch Collection by Georgia Cook, alias @georgiacooked was dished out over the course of the last Dracula Season. Some of the most fun character designs out there.

Fanfiction Spotlight: BlueCatWriter – With a whopping 99 works devoted to the novel Dracula (so far, the number may have gone up since I blinked), @bluecatwriter is one of the most prolific and talented fanfiction scribblers out there. Romances, nightmares, and overlaps between the two seem to crop up the most, give or take a crossover. Seems fitting that those blue paw prints have contributed to BoMB too.

The League of Extraordinary Gentlefolk – An ongoing comic in which all your favorite characters from the Classics section get together and tackle some perils ranging from the mundane to the monstrous. Started by the amazing @mayhemchicken and posted on @lxgentlefolkcomic, this series is a love letter to beloved Victorian era lit, with a spotlight on the two couples leading the League. Namely, the Harkers, ala Dracula, and the Nortons, ala Sherlock Holmes,’ “A Scandal in Bohemia.” Mina and Irene are the driving investigative and steering forces here, and still deeply in love with their likewise-infatuated husbands, just like in their canons! What a concept! Alan.

Without spoiling the full character list, just know there are going to be a ton of familiar faces roaming around before you finish reading the first arc. Said arc having conveniently wrapped up just a few days ago! Give the comic and its bonus silliness a look if you’re in the mood for a new comfort-adventure epic.

Re: Dracula – Probably the most well-known and incredible thing to come out of the initial Dracula Daily wave. This podcast is a full audio drama that follows the same format as the Substack, with episodes coming out in time with the entries themselves. And it has an unfairly cool soundtrack. They have a Tumblr with @re-dracula, a site and a Patreon to check out before the series kicks up again on May 3rd. (Also, keep an eye out for their next work, an audio drama in the same style with Carmilla.)

The Soldier and the Solicitor – Another treat from @ibrithir-was-here, this one involves a bit of time travel trouble. Quincey Harker has stumbled out of World War I and into the same dark forest where his father once fled for his life…then runs into the man himself, on that same night. Jonathan Harker, young and starved and lost, who has no choice but to trust this stranger while the Weird Sisters are at his heels…despite said stranger having no shadow. It’s a tasty emotional trek, already complete on Tumblr, but now it’s turning into a Webtoon. While Ibrithir is juggling a number of other stories, she’ll be redrawing spruced up versions of the comic and adding a few new scenes as things unfold.

Substack Stack – You know what’s better than one emailed-out public domain book club? A mountain of them. Just. So, so many of them. You’ll see that a lot of these are finished, but some are still ticking along. Either way, they’re all great picks if you’re craving some more old school lit to fill the void between undead emails.

Frankenstein Weekly – Frankenstein

Jekyll and Hyde Weekly – The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde

Voyage of the Nautilus – Twenty-Thousand Leagues Under the Sea

Letters from Watson – Sherlock Holmes

The Invisible Mail – The Invisible Man

Letters from Bunny – E.W. Hornung’s short stories of the eponymous Bunny and Raffles

Letters Regarding Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster short stories, including the novel, Right Ho, Jeeves

…

……

………

…The Beetle Weekly – The Beetle (NOTE: Do Not Read This.)

The Vampyres – A novella I finally wrenched through the gears of self-publication as of March this year. Starring a petite but powerful paranormal cast, The Vampyres, centers on an unscrupulous undead fellow who finds that the revenants of the world are being mowed down by an entity known only as ‘Quinn Morse.’ Between trying to save his neck and figure out where the shadowy bastard came from, the Vampyre in question crosses paths with a new paramour and handy human shield in the form of a grieving Good Samaritan. He’s even polite enough to invite the Vampyre into his home while he’s in dire straits! Surely this will end well. All the info is available here and a little author site is over here.

What Manner of Man – This is the one made for everyone who started out hoping there’d be a real love story with our good friend Jonathan Harker and the Count when he was at his most charismatic. Where that sea of wonders dried up into a mire of horror, What Manner of Man by @stjohnstarling keeps things firmly on the romantic tracks. This Substack stars the letter-writing priest Father Victor E. Ardelian as he finds himself meeting with one enigmatic Lord Alistair Vane. It isn’t long before interest turns into intrigue and intrigue into undead intimacies.

The entire novel has been completed—along with multiple epilogues in the author’s Patreon, allowing readers to choose for themselves just how the uncanny romance plays out in the end—and the Substack now has a number of other gothic goodies piling up in the meantime.  

NONFICTION

Dracula Daily: A Unique Reading Experience: This one comes courtesy of @realwomenofgaming. It’s a short and sweet piece that amounts to a fun snapshot of the entire Dracula Daily ride. A cozy couple-minute read.

‘Dracula Daily’ is the One Substack You Need a Subscription To: Features my favorite Matt Kirkland interview. @mattkirkland, if you’re still floating around on here, thank you for dispatching our vampire newsletter again this year.

Dracula Daily is Tumblr’s hottest new book club: Alright, the ‘new’ part is worn out by now, but this one is still a delightful article to swing back around to. Two years on, this Polygon piece is a time capsule of those early months when people outside our bookworm bubble realized we were all happily receiving letters from our favorite classic gothic horror blorbos.  

“How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” – Princess Weekes, if you ever read this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I am sending oceans of love and millions of rewatches to your video essay. If you haven’t seen it yet, “How Mina Murray Became Dracula’s Girlfriend” is one of the most refreshing and well-made breakdowns of both the title subject and numerous other issues that have proliferated in the public view of Dracula’s cast and plot as adaptations endlessly warp or outright bastardize the actual novel. An incredibly cathartic watch.  

Literary play gone viral: delight, intertextuality, and challenges to normative interpretations through the digital serialization of Dracula: A mouthful of a title for an even more elaborate article about the Dracula Daily phenomenon. This one is a full-on study that analyzes just what happened within the big bloodsucker book club surge and how its ‘wandering reading practices’ enriched the experience for participants.

 “The Undying Undead: An analysis of the Dracula Daily community for a theory of online community formation and interaction” – We have a thesis on here! Look at that! @sirangelothebestest’s MA thesis used our vampiric book club as the bones for a massive brick of an academic piece that definitely deserves a look.

…And I think I’ll go ahead and cap things here.

This isn’t everything I got recommended, but if I had squashed all of it in here, I think folks’ eyes would start to fall out of their head. I hope you can find something cool to comb through here. Or, if there’s something great I overlooked, tack it onto the list! We’ve got just two weeks to go until we’re off with Mr. Harker. Let’s enjoy our respite before those castle doors close behind us.

[spirit-lanterns]

IT'S SHOWTIME!

synopsis: (casino! AU) you're the center of attention for the penacony women.

featuring: black swan, acheron, sparkle, firefly, robin

rating: 18+ smut (men and minors dni)

warnings: sub! afab fem reader, bunny hybrid reader, playboy bunnysuit, se.x work, body shots, alcohol, body worship, ni.pple su.cking, tummy worship, orgy (technically a sixsome), cunnilin.gus, fing.ering, exhibition, slight voyeu.rism, stra.p on, pillow hu.mping (firefly), might be ooc, not proofread.

art credits: what does the fox say

“Stop hogging her! I want a taste!”

Sparkle groaned as she tried pushing Acheron off your body, the ranger’s eager tongue still lapping at your breast with devotion similar to worship. Sparkle was getting jealous, both needy and desperate for your attention as she tried to reign the galaxy ranger back for a taste of your sweet, soft, skin. “Acheron, it’s Sparkle’s turn,” Black Swan reminds calmly, delicate fingers wrapping around the neck of the wine bottle, before spilling the crimson liquid down your body for Sparkle to have her fill. 

With one last groan of lust, Acheron hesitantly parted her lips from your nipple and gasped when Sparkle roughly tugged her hair back. The masked fool immediately dived in to suck on your right breast, earning a high-pitched whine from your lips that had all the women groaning. “So…good…” You hear Sparkle mumble breathlessly, eyes fluttering shut in pleasure while she lapped up any trickles of wine that clung to the sensitive area of your breast. 

With your bunny suit peeled back and the eager slurping sounds of Sparkle sucking on your boobs, you weakly looked up to see Acheron licking her lips and staring down at you with lust, Black Swan sneaking a few sips from the wine bottle, while her multiple hands held you down and massaged your thighs…

…To your left, the ever-so-famous Robin sat desperately on the couch, legs parted with her dress hitched up her thighs, masturbating to the sight of you being devoured by these three beautiful women. To your right, the adorable and sweet Firefly sat nervously with a throw pillow lodged underneath her thighs, weakly humping the lucky pillow to the sounds of your moans and having come a few times due to her relentless riding.

Five women. Five women in total were in the casino with you tonight. You’ve had more women before, but this was the first time Black Swan, Acheron, Sparkle, Firefly and Robin were in the casino with you tonight, and only them. It seemed that the other usual patrons were too busy to visit Penacony tonight, but nevertheless, these five women were more than enough to spoil you like the perfect bunny that you were. 

As Sparkle continued puckering her lips around your nipples, Black Swan used one of her crystal-like hands to wag a finger over for Robin. “Robin, why don’t you come over here and try the wine on her tummy. It’s quite soft and I think you’ve deserved it.” Black Swan chuckles before pouring some more wine down the stomach, the warm liquid sliding down your cute tummy and making you gasp in sensitivity. 

With a wag of your little cotton tail, Acheron groaned and couldn’t control herself, leaning in to try and lick the alcohol up for herself before being roughly stopped by one of Black Swan’s crystal hands. 

“It’s Robin’s turn, dear.” She reminds, keeping Acheron from devouring you whole while Robin eagerly scampers to your side, leaning down to trace her tongue over your stomach. 

“Mmmpf…” the enchanting singer lost herself in the taste of you as she worked with Sparkle to worship your beautiful body with their lips. Poor Acheron was still left being held back by Black Swan’s arms, and Firefly was still waiting for her turn patiently like the good girl that she was. After all, she did lose the gamble first, at least she was patient enough to wait for her turn… (unlike Acheron)

“Acheron, dear…” Black Swan hummed, planting a small kiss to your left bunny ear and playing with your cottontail with her free hand, “Why don’t you go grab a strap on that we packed? The eight-inch one, thank you.” 

She smirked before planting small kisses to your rabbit ears affectionately, making you arch your back and shove more of yourself against Sparkle and Robin’s eager mouths. As Acheron reluctantly left your side to search through the assortment of sex toys that the women had packed for you, Black Swan glanced over at Firefly and chuckled. “Firefly, come over here, I have quite the surprise for you.”

Firefly’s eyes lit up and she paused her ministrations of humping the small throw pillow. Carefully, she crawled closer to you when Black Swan suddenly peeled the rest of your bunny suit down, revealing your sopping wet pussy. Upon your slick folds being exposed into view, Sparkle groaned before trying to make her way down, practically drooling at the sight before being tugged away by Black Swan. 

“No need to be greedy, you already have the bunny’s breasts to yourself.” Black Swan reprimands, causing Sparkle to grumble in frustration. She glares up at the memokeeper before going back to her designated area. Robin, too busy with worshiping your cute stomach, didn’t pay any mind to you pussy as she was too grateful for being in the mere presence of you alone. You were the casino’s Golden Bunny for a reason, so to have your body all to themselves was something only simple patrons at the casino could ever dream of. You were theirs, and only theirs…

Once Acheron came back with a dildo and harness in hand, Black Swan grinned before snatching the two toys into her crystal hands, handing them to the nervously anticipating Firefly.

“Wha—” Acheron and Sparkle both gasped when they saw that the sweet girl; Firefly, would be the one rawdogging you with the strap. Robin smiled softly at Firefly’s expression of surprise, and the poor girl was left stammering up an excuse when presented with the eight-inch toy.

“Ah— wait! This is for me?” Firefly nervously glanced down at the toy and harness in her hands, then at you, then at your gaping wet pussy that begged for some attention. She gulped as she couldn’t deny how turned on she was, wanting to see your cute nose twitch with pleasure all the while she made you feel good with her body…

“Hold up! Firefly is using the strap?” Sparkle’s expression instantly turned to an irritated one as she let go of your left nipple with a ‘pop!’ “That’s not fair! She lost the gamble! If anything, either you or me should be the one fucking our bunny…”

Loudly voicing her opinions, Sparkle was briefly shushed by Robin who pulled her aside. “We’ll all get a turn with the strap. Our bunny loves it when we take turns…no need to be so loud.”

Robin pouts and reaches up to pet your ears, trying to comfort them as she knew they were more sensitive to noise. Sparkle shrunk down sheepishly, before both women apologized for bickering in front of you. 

“What cute darlings you are…” Black Swan chuckled, gently parting your legs with her crystal hands and tracing the outline of your folds before looking up at Acheron. “That being said, Acheron. Why don’t you get our bunny nice and wet so Miss Firefly can have an easier time fitting inside her.” 

Firefly gulped and sat off to the side, trying to figure out how to put on the harness in the first place. While that was all happening, Acheron eagerly got on her knees in front of you, using her hands to spread your legs further apart so that she could have easier access to your hole. With Sparkle and Robin sitting off to the side and watching the whole ordeal, Acheron quickly started stroking her thick tongue against your puffy folds. Already stimulated from all the tongue action you received moments prior, you were already bucking your hips wildly, needing to be restrained by Black Swan, Sparkle, and Robin all at the same time.

“Such a needy bunny…” Black Swan coos.

“Her tail is wagging so much…” Robin sighs blissfully.

“I’m next with the strap, okay?” Sparkle huffs quite madly.

“Uhhh guys, I think I need some help.” Firefly whimpers, still trying to figure out how to attach the harness to the base of the dildo while Acheron eats you out. 

“Sparkle, go help Firefly.” Black Swan commands, ordering her to help figure out the strap on since Firefly had never worn one before. As Sparkle reluctantly crawled over to help the poor girl, you were busy writhing under Acheron’s strong grip, her tongue proving too thick and too tough for you to handle as she sank the tip of her muscle in and out of your folds. Desperate and horny noises left Acheron’s mouth as she became addicted to your taste, messy juices and stains of slick coating her lower face like a starved woman finally having her first meal. 

Pussydrunk that she was, Acheron just couldn’t get enough of you. She was breathing so heavily, so carnally. She couldn’t even register the fact that Black Swan had nudged her head away again, her fingers prodding closer to your pussy and gently fingering you to see how tight you were.

“Ah…she’s still quite tight,” Black Swan breathes out shallowly, yet smiling at the way her fingers manage to squeeze in, “But so wet. Our bunny is practically in heat thanks to us…”

All eyes locked on you, you whimpered when Black Swan gestured for Firefly to walk over in front of you. Now complete with an eight-inch strap tied to her waist, Firefly whimpered and reluctantly positioned herself in front of you. 

“Are…Are you sure I should be the one to do this? I don’t want to hurt our bunny by going too rough…” Firefly looked down at you and frowned, gently petting your head and caressing your face.

“Pfft, as if a sweet thing like you could ever go rough.”

“Sparkle!”

Robin lightly smacked Sparkle’s thigh and the two were quickly hushed by Acheron. Positioned behind Firefly, Acheron slowly slid her hands around Firefly’s waist to help her angle her cock properly. “If you are unsure, I can help guide you at a beginner’s pace until you get the hang of it.”

“That…That would be nice, thanks Acheron.” Firefly gulped and looked down at you with love in her eyes. She was so smitten at the way you were sprawled out in front of her, her own pussy twitching with need to see you moaning and clenching down on her cock like the cute little bunny that you were. 

“Hurry up, I want to see this bunny bounce on my cock next.” Sparkle reminds, clearly impatient with the pace they were going at. 

“Er…just take your time, Firefly. The casino is open all night. I’m sure all of us will get a turn!” Robin assures. 

“Indeed, Acheron and I have packed quite a few toys for tonight. Some of them shipped from Kafka and Asta actually…” Black Swan chuckles and uses her fingers to spread your pussy lips wider just for Firefly. “Just take your time, I’m sure our bunny loves it when we do that, don’t you girl?”

All five women look down at you with lust present in their gaze. You were used to this, of course you were. This was your job as the Golden Bunny of the casino, yet you’d be lying if you say you didn’t  get butterflies from the beautiful women you called your “VIP patrons.”

Taking a deep breath, Firefly slowly moved to push her strap in, hips involuntarily bucking up to meet her engorging length, as you figured this would definitely be a long, yet enjoyable night with your loyal and devoted patrons. 

“Oh, if only the other women could see you now, pretty bunny…” Black Swan murmurs, soothingly stroking your hair as Firefly sloppily thrusted into you with the help of Acheron from behind. “It’s a shame not a lot of them could make it. They’d all enjoy the show you are putting up for us, hmmm?” 

Suddenly, as if on cue, Black Swan’s phone rang and she used one of her crystal hands to fetch it out of her bag. While Firefly continued to fuck you on her cock, Black Swan answered the phone while still prying you open on her fingers.

“Black Swan speaking,” she answered quietly, not really caring for the fact she was in the middle of a big orgy. “Oh? Is that so?”

As soon as the conversation started, it ended. With Black Swan laying her phone on the table and smirking down at you with lustful eyes. “That was your Boss, little bunny,” she says with tease in her tone. 

“It seems that a few other women had managed to come after all.”

[screamlet]

♛: Sharing a dessert please?

thank you for the prompt! ~650 words set pre-s8/pre-breakup, bobby and athena having buck and tommy over for dinner. i vaguely remember bobby and athena's condo having doors outside somewhere? pretend there's doors to somewhere outside. bobby pov. from the nonsexual acts of intimacy prompt list

---

"I couldn't decide," Bobby tells them, "So I made cannolis and tiramisu."

Tommy looks at him like he's crazy, then says, "Bobby," like he means it.

Bobby serves up a plate with two beautiful cannolis on it. "You still have a sweet tooth, don't you?"

Tommy sulks. "Yes."

Athena pouts right back at him. "Poor thing. Delicious homemade—from scratch—desserts to share with his boyfriend, what is a man to do?"

"Seriously, Tommy," Buck says as he devours three-fourths of one in a single bite. "Bobby, this is so good."

"Did you taste it, kid? Doesn't look like you did."

Buck's mouth is full as he motions to his neck. "I can taste it in my throat."

"That's absolutely not how it works," Tommy says. He has his cannoli still whole between his fingers, so it's now the subject of Evan's interest. "You already had one."

"Buck, there are more cannolis right here," Athena tells him.

"Yeah, but that one's in his hand," Buck says, approaching Tommy slowly.

Bobby smiles to himself and glances at Athena, who's trying to hide her own smile, too.

"Do you want my cannoli?" Tommy asks, his arm drifting further to keep it away from Buck. "Say please."

"Nope."

Bobby sighs and serves up another cannoli. "Would someone tell me if this recipe is good or not?"

"I will, as soon as Tommy hands his over," Buck replies. "It probably tastes even better now that it's had a chance to breathe."

"Unlike the one you inhaled." Tommy finally brings his cannoli back and takes a bite out of it, but leans back in his seat as Buck tries to dive and bite the other half. "Hey, hey. Again: you have your own."

"And there's tiramisu," Bobby reminds them.

"I don't think they'll ever be ready for tiramisu," Athena replies.

"We will be," Buck says, then whines, "Tommy." He leans closer to the cannoli Tommy still has in his hand, like he's about to pounce and take a bite of it or Tommy.

"I'm gonna make some espresso," Bobby announces. He puts another two cannolis on a plate and shoves it at Buck. "Take it outside."

"I'll come get you when there's coffee," Athena says.

"Yes, ma'am," Tommy answers, quickly heading towards the doors to the yard, Buck following with the cannolis. Bobby glances over his shoulder and shakes his head at the two of them still chattering away. Athena pulls out small cups and catches Bobby's eyes before they share a laugh.

"Honestly." Bobby shakes his head. "I never—"

"I know."

"Never seen two knuckleheads more made for each other."

"We should have some water in a spray bottle ready for when they come back."

Bobby laughs harder and nudges Athena's side. She's quiet for a moment, her head tilted as she watches him start up the coffee maker. He glances at her, eyebrows arched. She'll answer him, but first she takes his face in her hands and kisses him.

"I thought I'd seen every way you could be happy," she murmurs, "But here's a new one."

Bobby looks away as he blushes. "Athena." He takes a breath, then turns to her. "You ever see someone exactly as they were meant to be?"

They both look over their shoulders, outside where Tommy has an arm slung around Buck's shoulders. Buck's won at least one of the cannolis, judging from his smug look. They share a quick kiss before Buck puts his head on Tommy's shoulder and turns away from view.

"Not just Buck. I never thought—" Bobby hesitates. "I was Tommy's captain for almost a year and I never thought I'd see him like this. Happy. Never thought I'd see Buck so comfortable."

Athena understands, rubbing circles on his back. "I'm glad you got to see it, baby."

Bobby nods. "Me too."

[jyeoulzhu]

baby you so fine

summary . when wonyoung turns u on by wearing your shirt

pairing . jang wonyoung x male reader

warnings . 18+ minors dni, pure smut, weird kink

i'm lounging on the couch, half-asleep, when the sound of soft footsteps pulls me from my daze. i look up to see wonyoung padding into the living room - and my jaw nearly drops to the floor at the sight of her.

she's wearing nothing but my button-up shirt - the one i wore to work yesterday. it's way too big on her tiny frame, the sleeves hanging down past her fingers and the hem hitting her mid-thigh. the shirt is unbuttoned, giving me tantalizing glimpses of her smooth skin and ample cleavage with every step.

wonyoung looks at me from under her long lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips. "hi y/n," she purrs, her voice low and inviting.

"h-hello," i stammer, sitting up straighter and trying to play it cool. but my eyes are glued to her almost-naked form, drinking in every dip and curve. "you look... different."

wonyoung does a little twirl, the shirt flaring out around her. "you like?" she asks innocently, though there's a mischievous glint in her eye.

i nod slowly, my mouth suddenly dry. "i do," i manage to get out. "but uh, what's the occasion? not that i'm complaining..."

wonyoung slinks closer, her hips swaying hypnotically. "no occasion," she murmurs, climbing onto the couch and straddling my lap. "i just wanted to see your reaction to me wearing your shirt."

"fuck, wonyoung," i groan, my hands flying to her bare thighs. her skin is warm and soft beneath my palms. "you're trying to kill me, aren't you?"

wonyoung giggles, grinding down against the growing bulge in my pants. "maybe i am," she teases. "but first i want to feel you inside me."

she leans down to capture my lips in a searing kiss. i return it with fervor, one hand tangling in her silky hair while the other grips her ass possessively.

wonyoung makes a needy little noise and starts fumbling with my belt buckle, desperate to free my aching cock. i help her shove my pants and boxers down just enough to pull myself out.

wonyoung wastes no time wrapping her hand around my shaft, giving a few slow pumps that make me throb in her grip. "oh fuck yes," i hiss through my teeth.

"you want this?" wonyoung asks breathlessly, rubbing the swollen head through her slick folds. "want to fuck me in your shirt?"

"so bad," i grit out. "but i want to taste you first."

wonyoung bites her lip and nods eagerly. she shifts back to kneel between my legs, tugging my shirt up to expose her dripping cunt.

"come and get it then," she challenges sultrily.

i don't hesitate - i dive in face first, licking a long stripe up her slit. wonyoung cries out sharply at the contact, her head falling back in bliss.

"y/n!" she keens. "Your tongue...fuck!"

i devour her like a man starved, licking and sucking at her sensitive flesh. wonyoung writhes above me, her fingers tangling in my hair as she holds me against her.

when i focus my attention on her clit, wonyoung nearly screams, her thighs trembling around my head. i work her mercilessly, determined to make her come on my tongue.

"i'm gonna..." wonyoung warns breathlessly. "don't stop y/n!"

i double my efforts, flicking her clit rapidly and thrusting two fingers deep inside her fluttering walls. wonyoung shatters with a scream, gushing her release into my eager mouth.

i lick her through it, savoring every drop before pulling back to grin up at her. wonyoung is boneless, panting harshly as she comes down.

"you're not done with me yet," i growl, standing and scooping her up in my arms. wonyoung wraps her legs around my waist instinctively.

i carry her to the bedroom and toss her onto the mattress. she bounces once before reaching for me hungrily.

"i need your cock," she whines, spreading her legs wide in invitation. "please y/n..."

i crawl over her, kissing her deeply as I line myself up with her entrance. we both moan into the kiss as I sink into her tight heat.

"oh fuck yes," i groan against her lips. "so fucking perfect."

wonyoung rolls her hips up to meet mine, urging me to move. i set a hard, fast pace, driven wild by the feeling of her wrapped around me.

wonyoung is lost to the pleasure, babbling incoherently as I pound into her. the sight of my shirt riding up to expose more of her creamy skin is almost too much to handle.

"touch yourself," i command breathlessly. "i want to see you come apart."

wonyoung doesn't hesitate - she reaches between us to rub tight circles on her clit as I thrust into her. within moments, she's tensing beneath me with a sharp cry.

"fuck y/n!" she screams as she comes hard, her walls clamping down on my cock like a vice.

i follow right after, spilling deep inside her with a guttural groan. we collapse together, both gasping for air.

after a few moments, i roll off of wonyoung gently. we lay side by side, just basking in the afterglow.

"fuck that was intense," i say breathlessly.

wonyoung giggles and snuggles into my side. "yeah it was," she agrees. "definitely something i want to repeat."

i smirk and press a kiss to her forehead. "Anytime baby."

we drift off like that - sated, sweaty, and happy. ready to face whatever tomorrow may bring.