#ERM MISS HIM SO MUCH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

imrllytootiredforthis · 4 months ago

Note

thinking about how there isn't enough on virgin!minho

like things get a little handsy and then you learn how sensitive he is... idk i just love subby whiny min but i haven't seen any inexperienced/virgin minho around :/

Made of Glass

pairing: lee minho x reader

warnings: dom afab reader (no pronouns are mentioned, reader does have a hole but i don't think anything else - besides minho referring to the reader as a goddess once), sub virgin minho, lots of build-up, little bit of a handjob, grinding on his bare dick, penetrative sex ( r receiving, haven't written it in a long time so don't get mad if it's shit😻), fluffy build up (they're in love your honour), he says he hates you a lot (but he doesn't mean it cause we love subby tsundere boys)

word count: erm...about 4.6k

-- MINORS BEGONE --

Minho wasn't ashamed of the fact that he was a virgin.

Untouched and "pure", undirtied by the hands of another some might even say. Specifically you, teasing him with light kisses and gentle touches.

And sure, he'd gotten to 2nd base in a high school relationship and older drunken mishaps but never anything more. Never as so far as to...feel certain things from another person.

Or from himself for that matter.

But no, wasn't ashamed that he was a virgin but he was maybe, perhaps, just a little bit embarrassed.

And he had absolutely zero idea how to breach the topic with you much less approach it.

You, who knew he was a virgin. Always so patient and careful with him.

Obviously, it should be expected that in the heat of the moment you stop when he freezes up or slows when he tenses up. But none of his previous partners had ever treated him so nicely, without getting angry or miffed off after at the very least.

They hadn't kissed his cheeks gently with a smile and conceded into a cuddle after it happened several times. They hadn't wrapped him up in their arms and turned on a movie, or delicately asked to talk about it after the fact.

You did though.

With no questions and no pressuring and no guilt-tripping. No anger.

He loved it. He loved you...as long as that had taken for him to come to terms with, with you and with himself.

He loved you.

And he was ready.

To...to, yeah.

And what better way than to just come out and say it? But that's embarrassing.

"I think I wanna...you know."

"Darling, sorry, can you speak up?" You looked up at him, yawning and setting your phone down on the coffee table.

He flushed and turned away, "um..." and he could feel every ounce of confidence in his body drain out of him like that.

Under your eyes, like this, you so attentive to listen to him. So nice, giving him your whole attention like he was the only thing that mattered.

You patted the couch next to you and he had no choice to sit down, falling into your arms like he was the missing piece to your puzzle.

He was quick to nuzzle his face into your throat, hiding against you. You just made him so nervous. Why did you make him so nervous still? After dating for this long, you shouldn't make him feel this way still.

Fluttery and gooey and nervous.

He'd say he hated it. The way you made his heart flutter...as sappy and love-drunk as that sounded.

He'd say he hated it when your hand cupped his cheek, turning him back to you. But he didn't hate it. Not one bit.

"I love you."

A grin split across your face, lighting up in that way you always did when he said those three words. No matter how many times he's said it, it would still drive you crazy like it was the first.

You giggled and kissed the tip of his nose gently. "Say it again for me darling? Just one more time, please?"

Now you were teasing him. But you couldn't help it. You loved teasing him so much. Loved fluttering kisses over his face and hearing him say those words again and again and again.

You didn't think you could ever get sick of it.

"Fuck you," He groaned but his tone with filled with anything but malice, making you laugh; letting him bury his head into your neck. "Fuck you for being so..."

"So what?" You challenged. "Hmm?"

His voice was muffled against your skin, barely legible, "So...insufferable." But he must like suffering then. "And intolerable." And he must have built up some tolerability, maybe because he was around you so much, indulging in you far too often.

You pulled his body against yours, leaning back to slot his body onto yours.

He was too eager to follow your lead.

To let himself be maneuvered so his hips were pressed against yours and your chest was aligned with his, so softly you moved him, so carefully you treated him.

He could feel your heart beating in time with his, fluttering and quick. He loved the feeling like he loved everything about you.

Fuck you for making him feel like this.

For the butterflies in his stomach. And the flush on his cheeks. And the hard-on between you and him, wishing desperately you wouldn't notice.

But of course you would.

You pulled his face from your neck, hands holding either side of his face, keeping him in place - like he'd want to be anywhere else.

"So I'm insufferable and you're...what?" Your lips pouted and he felt the overwhelming need to kiss them. To kiss you. Hard and fast and the way he needed.

He pretended to think but was only sidetracked by the feeling of your thumbs brushing over his cheekbones, tracing his lips and following down to his jawline.

"Mmm, I'm...handsome. And, uh," he let out an embarrassing breathy sigh when you lean in, kissing the corner of his mouth so softly he wouldn't be sure it was there if he hadn't watched you.

"And...?" You prompted, smiling coyly. You knew the effect you had on him.

You peppered kisses over his face, following where you'd touched him with your fingers seconds before. You nipped at his cheek and pulled away before he could properly reply.

"...pretty?" Though the words came out more as a question than anything else. "I mean-"

A giggle escaped your lips, "Hell yeah you are," you brush your nose against his, looking at him in a way so scarily intimate he has to look away first.

"Pretty..." you mutter, sighing. "Y'know, I think I can accept being insufferable and intolerable if you can accept being pretty," you whisper, guiding him back to you with a delicate kiss, finally to his lips. "And handsome," you murmur, smiling against him as he deepens the kiss, hands grasping at the fabric of your shirt.

You pull away with a small teasing smirk, "And beautiful, and gorgeous, and stunnin-mmph!"

His hands fist the fabric, pulling you in before you can continue with your stupid rant. Before you can focus on the way his heart pounds when you add on another praise.

You hum and recede into the motion, allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth, sloppyily, in the way oddly reminiscent of the way horny teenagers kiss.

In a matter of seconds he's turned the kiss from sweet to something not-so-sweet.

Exactly what he wanted, and maybe he wouldn't even need to suffer through the awkwardness of asking.

Everything he put in was returned by you in the tenfold, one hand moving from his cheek to the nape of his neck, the effects making you laugh against his lips. His form shivering into yours, full-bodied and obvious.

"Sensitive?" You pulled away, with a breath, mouth curling up. "It's okay, it's cute-mmph!"

He crashed his lips against yours again, effectively cutting off your words and your thoughts. Even if you continued to play with the nape of his neck, fingers teasing over the spot. The feeling only made him more and more desperate.

But if he was needy, you were nothing but eager to reply, deepening the kiss like you were trying to consume him whole.

"Darling," you mutter, too soft. "Minnie," you groan, holding him to you gently.

But you were too soft, too gentle.

He wanted more, he wanted you.

Unrestrained, doing what you wanted for once, using him like you wanted. Because he wanted it.

Wanted to not be treated like he was a piece of glass, in danger of breaking every moment. He loved how carefully you treated him but now he wanted to be treated rough, he needed to be treated rough.

But he didn't want to say it.

Slowly, he pressed his hips against yours, shuddering at the fizzle of friction sending sparks through his nerves.

"Minho," you sighed, nails scratching against his scalp making him whine. "Darling," with a particularly harsh nip to his lips, almost hard enough to break the skin - that was what he wanted.

A whimper built up in his throat only to be swallowed down. He wasn't that desperate yet. Even if every one of his movements seemed to argue otherwise, finding a clumsy rhythm in grinding against you, replicating and intensifying those sparks.

Building them up to what he hoped was more.

Even if the motions were clumsy and new. Curious but wanting all the same, the way he moved was raw, exploring and ruining. It made his head spin and everything else go foggy.

You dragged your mouth away from his, tugging his head up by his hair to lick your way down his neck.

A lick and an open-mouthed kiss, making him shudder and shake, heat emanating from the areas you touched and the places you pressed together.

Separated by stupid clothes but not enough to stop him.

He must look pathetic the way he thrusts against you, each discordant grind getting more desperate, more sloppy with the skim of your mouth. With the drag of your tongue down his jaw and pulse-point, heart thrumming beneath your lips. With every shockwave of euphoria that tingles down his spine, with every moan and whisper of his name that leaves your lips.

"Minho," "Minnie," "Baby," "Darling,"

His head is too fuzzy to worry about anything else. To think about the needy noises that leave him, he's sure he sounds lewd, and dirty.

From just dry-humping against you.

But it's not enough. He wants you rough and hard and on top of him. Showing him what to do, telling him what to do. To make him feel good, to make you feel good.

He falters imperceptibly. Should he...?

No, he doesn't want to. He can't. Because how is he supposed to ask you to-

He's caught up in his head but his body works on autopilot, reacting to the sensations that are bringing him closer and closer to cumming in his boxers.

Caught up in his thoughts but not so much so that he forgets about you,

and he certainly doesn't miss anything you say, like the words "Such a fucking good boy," nearly growled into his throat, voice husky and ragged as your teeth scrape down his skin.

Good boy?

He freezes. Heat pools deep inside of him, warm and making him painfully, painfully hard. The words push him nearly to the edge, and he can feel himself on the precipice of-

And then he's being shoved back, hard.

Harder than you meant to, but necessary for what you were about to do.

You pant, as does he, both of you flushed and trying to catch the breath stolen from your lungs.

No, no, not when he was finally getting somewhere, not when finally, finally he was getting what he wanted. Not when you were actually unrestrained and-

"I'm sorry."

His gaze snapped to yours.

"What?"

Your lips were red and parted, he was sure his weren't in much better shape. All he wanted to do was kiss them again, and again, and again.

He wants to hear you call him a good boy again.

"I-I'm sorry," you ran your hand through your hair. "I should've...I shouldn't have done that, I'm so sorry Minho." This time you were the one looking away.

"The fuck do you mean?" He snaps. It came out a little harsher than intended, he admits. But really, he was sitting here, horny and pent-up and just wanting to get fucked, and here you were, pushing him away and apologizing?

You blink, slowly, surprised.

And here he is, fuming.

Why won't you just fuck him?

"I'm sorry-" would you just stop saying that? His glare shuts you up. "Um," You only looked confused now, a furrow between your brow.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips. You watch it.

He wishes you'd just make the first move.

Because now he was going to have to say it. Out loud. To you. Not just mumble some nonsense and hope that you'd pick it up.

"I want you." He said simply, inching closer to you.

You nodded but made no move to continue anything. "Okay..." then a sigh. "I'm going to need you to elaborate just a little, Minho."

The flush across his cheeks spreads, down his neck and over his collarbone. Why did you have to look at him like that? Like he was made of glass or something? Like you cared about him so much it made him melt.

Fuck, he loved you.

"Look at me baby." You gently cup his face, turning him to meet your eyes. "You can tell me."

You definitely knew.

He could see it in your eyes, the worry giving way to a teasing look. Now you just wanted to humiliate him huh?

He hated you.

"Shut up."

You smiled, pulling him into your chest again, laying between your legs. Just like you were before. "Well that's not what good boys say, now is it?"

He pulled his face away, burying it into your shoulder to hide from your eyes. "I don't like you." His voice came out muffled into your shirt.

You only scoff out a laugh. "We both know that's not true darling. You love me." Voice dropping to a whisper, you lean into his ear. "Do I make you nervous baby?"

Someone just kill him now.

Put an end to his misery.

"N-no;" his voice still muffled in the fabric of his your shirt. "you're just-"

"Just what?" You challenge, fingers teasing into his hair, the way you know he likes it. "You're a big boy, you can use your words, can't you?"

He shudders and swears he can hear your smirk. "I...- fuck you."

You tug on his hair, making him face you. You swear he has a eye-contact problem. Or maybe he just gets too nervous looking you in the eye.

Either way, he's too adorable not to coo at.

"I was imagining this the either way around, but whatever rocks your boat~" you purr. "All you have to do is tell me what you want."

His hips jolt against yours, heat filling his body. As soon as he does though, your free hand stills his hips, fingertips teasing under the hem of his shirt while you look at him expectantly.

He wants to hide again, but you hold him in place. Pinning him against you, not letting him look away, not letting him move.

He wants you so bad.

"Touch me..." He mutters, and your hand slides just a bit higher on his abdomen, your thighs squeezing just a bit tighter around his hips.

It's over for him. He knows as soon as your lips turn up just a bit more into a coy smile. "Where?"

When he doesn't reply soon enough you skim your hand up and over his ribcage. Breathing growing heavy as your other leaves his hair, trailing down his neck and over his shoulder, slipping just beneath the collar of his shirt.

"Here?"

Such a simple touch makes him feel hot.

"Or here?"

Slowly, your hand under his shirt makes its path towards his chest.

He gasps lightly when your fingers tweak over his nipple, delighting in the way he quivers, rutting against you. You click your tongue at him. "You know, I really can't do anything to you until you tell me what you really want." Lips ghost over his ear, nipping lightly at the shell. "Too bad, really. I could take such good care of a cute little virgin like you~"

His voice cracks under the weight of your touch; trying to clear his throat while biting back a moan. "I'm not cute-"

You cut him off with a kiss, tentatively, like you hadn't stolen his breath with a kiss only minutes ago. Like you're afraid to break him.

But he wants you to break him.

The kiss is too short for his taste but it effectively cuts off his thought process, making him nearly dumb against you. Not dumb enough to not catch the smile against his skin, "I'm not cute." But he sounds so cute. It only makes the smile widen, turning your attention to trail kisses down his neck, murmuring between each press of your lips.

"Yes you are." Kiss.

And for some reason, he can't argue.

"Remember?" Kiss.

"I'm...what was it?" Smile, kiss, lick.

"Intolerable?" A pause, but only for a second, taking the moment to drag your tongue across his throat.

"And you're cute," Stopping to suck on the spot where his pulse thrums, feeling his heart beat under your lips.

"And pretty..." Kissing, once again, over the pretty mark you've left on his pale skin.

"And beautiful...and stunning...and..." you pull away, looking to see his eyes hooded and pupils blown. "...not getting anything more until you can tell me what exactly you want here."

You pinch his nipple one more time before pulling away, leaving him cold, whining, grinding desperately between your legs.

He's hard enough, you wonder if he would've cum in his pants if you hadn't stopped.

"I..." he starts and you wait patiently for him to continue. If you've learned anything about Minho, it's that he's nothing if not embarrassed to voice his wants. Especially the ones like this.

You remember how he blushed and couldn't stop wringing his hands when you worked him up to ask to kiss you for the first time.

The way he couldn't look you in the eye, focusing anywhere else.

But he knows by now, you're nothing if not a tease, willing to play the long game to get him to tell you what he wants.

Fuck you.

Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

He's so hard though, it hurts. And his skin nearly burns with the need to be touched, to feel you on him again. And all he wants to do is let you have your way with him.

Something that won't happen until he tells you.

"Please," he whines. Though he knows it's not enough. He just wants you. "Please?" On him, touching him, teasing him, kissing him, consuming him. "I need it." pressing a sloppy kiss to your collarbones. "Just fuck me, I want you so, so bad." He pants, hands tugging at the hem of your shirt. "Wanted you so bad, for forever now."

God, you can't wait to fuck him.

A grin blooms across your face, one that he can barely process. "Thought you'd never ask baby."

Not before you're pushing him onto his back, onto the soft cushions of the couch, switching your positions before crawling on top of him.

"M' gonna make you see stars baby." You purr, and he can do nothing else but nod dumbly, looking up at you with wide eyes like you're something of a goddess on top of him.

And you will make him see stars. Not yet anyway.

His vision goes hazy though as your hands quickly move to pull his shirt over his head, leaning down to kiss him again.

Deep and hard, filled with promises and care.

You lace your fingers with his against the couch cushions as you kiss down his jaw and down his neck and his chest and-

He gasps when you lick over his nipple, wrapping your lips around one to suck on it lightly.

Your tongue swirls around it, free hand tweaking at the other, making sure not to ignore it.

His cock is so hard, he can feel it throbbing in his sweats. He's sure he's already leaked through his underwear.

He swears he could cum from this alone.

"Don't!" He gasps and you pull away quickly, concern etched across your brow before you see his face clouded with pleasure, mouth hung open to let out breathy moans. "Please don't." He squeezes your hand in his. "I'll cum if you keep doing that."

You melt, filled with the overwhelming need to make him cum by just playing with his nipples. How cute he'd look from having his tits played with.

"So sensitive, aren't you?" You coo.

Maybe another day though. Right now, you'll give him what he wants. What he's wanted for 'forever'.

"Shut up," he scowls though it's quickly wiped away when you pinch his nipple one more time, making him gasp.

Finally, you glance down at his sweats, tenting with his boner. "Well someone's excited for me." Seeing you stare at his crotch makes him excited. His already hard cock twitching in his pants. "You're so sensitive for me, aren't you, Min?"

He hates you so much, covering his face with the back of his arm. The fact that you're only telling the truth makes him want to hide his face into your chest again.

But you're too far away, and too focused on watching his boner through his pants, fascinated by how hard you've made him with so little.

"Please," he whispers, but the way you watch him, eyes full of hunger makes him throb even more.

Somehow, he gets a kick out of you just watching him, softly moaning at his eagerness, as he lets out a hushed whisper, "Please. Please y/n, don't tease me like this. I'm already horny." His legs spread open shamelessly.

"Awe, why? Can you not handle it?" You look up at him, at his blushing face and his needy eyes. You wanna kiss him so bad.

And so you do, getting close to his lips, your warm breath tickling him. Your hand runs over his clothed cock, teasing your nails gently over the head of his dick. His eyes widen as you begin to touch him over the fabric.

But your lips quickly silence him as you kiss him again. He moans into it, the feeling of your hand on his cock, stroking him lightly and your lips on his.

Your tongue pushes through his lips as you stroke him a few more times, squeezing him lightly in a way that has his back arching off the bed, pushing into your hand even more.

Panting, you pull back a little. "Such a good boy for me, Minnie." Before you're pinning his hips to the couch and looking at him one more time for conformation.

Then you pull his sweats and boxers down in one swift movement.

And then he does see stars as you slide yourself over his hips, grinding against his bare cock.

He thinks he tells you he loves you, that he worships you, that he adores you more than anyone on this planet. He thinks his hand squeezes yours so hard that you bring it to your lips, kissing his hand and telling him to relax. He thinks you grind against him slow and gingerly, watching to see his reactions.

Like he'd ever tell you to stop.

He'd rather die.

Shoot him in the head if he ever tell you to stop, because it sure as hell isn't him.

Again, he thinks. But he isn't sure. He isn't sure of anything really right now.

His head is a mess of sensations and feelings, whines pouring from his mouth until you kiss him again and again and again.

Whispering that he's a good boy.

He's going to cum, he's going to cum.

Stars explode behind his eyes as they roll back and he isn't even inside of you yet.

And then you stop.

And he thinks tears might be rolling down his cheeks. He needs you, he needs you so fucking bad.

"Please, please, please." He pants, trying to roll his hips up against you, failing to find any contact as you sit back on your haunches, just out of his reach. "Need you," he gasps. "Need you so bad!"

You push sweaty hair out of his face, kissing the back of his hand one more time before you pull away entirely. He whimpers and you coo. "Be patient baby, just need to do something."

He watches blearily as you pull off your shorts and tries to calm his racing heart and heavy breaths as you roll a condom over his length.

"One more minute baby," you hush as you kiss him. "Are you ready?"

He nods desperately, of course he is. He's waiting for this for so long. He's wanted you for so long. He's going to go insane if you don't-

He gasps.

You groan as you slide down his length, slowly burying him inside of you until he bottoms out.

If he though grinding was intense, this was like nothing he could've ever imagined. His mouth gapes open, an endless stream of whiney moans and needy whimpers flooding into the room, feeding into you as you lift up and sink onto his again, groans of your own mixing with his.

He can't think anymore - he doesn't want to. He only wants to fall into the feeling of your walls squeezing around his dick, warm and wet as you ride him and the feeling of your hand once again finding his.

Whispering into his ear that you love him so much as you turn his head into mush

"I…I can-" Minho tries his best to talk, to tell you how good he feels. He really does, but whenever the thought comes to mind, it just gets cut off with the liquid heat coursing through his veins.

By the intense feeling of everything that is you.

He's an idiot for not asking you to fuck him sooner.

"Yeah, baby?" You chuckle breathlessly when he fails to complete his sentence. "You feel yourself inside?" You bring your interlaced fingers to your lower abdomen, "You feel it?"

All he can do is respond with a loud sob as he nods his head to your question, hips bucking up into you, desperate to chase the high quickly approaching ever since you've touched him.

He's not going to last much longer.

"You fit so well inside me," you murmur.

He's going to cum. Of this, he's sure.

"Please!' He hiccups, but he's not sure what he's pleading for. "P-please!" For more? For less? For something - anything to stave off the inevitable, he doesn't want this to end. He doesn't want it to ever end.

You kiss his forehead, his cheeks, his jaw. You flutter kisses over his face, so softly compared to how you're fucking him into the couch so roughly.

"I love you, Minho."

"I love you so much!" He pants and squeezes your hand, his other grabbing onto the nape of your neck as he shoves your lips against his.

He's fucking beautiful, you think. Cute and pretty and beautiful, under you, falling apart.

It's the most gorgeous sight you've ever seen, and he's whining your own name against you lips, pleading between sloppy kisses for you to let him cum, to let him cum for you.

You show your approval with a collision of lips and teeth and tongue as he tips over the edge and you follow suit. He sobs as he cums, shivering violently as waves of pleasure roll over his body, his back lifting into an arch, pushing himself deep into you with a followed whine.

Each moan and whine are muffled by your tongue pushing into his mouth but his hips still grind as he pushes himself into overstimulation, whining until you have mind enough to still his hips.

For a moment, the two of you are silent, chests heaving, both catching your breath as you pull away, looking at him.

"Minho?" His eyes are shut and his cheeks are painted red. "You okay baby?"

He murmurs something you don't catch, but you don't tease as you push the hair out of his face, sweat-soaked and tired, kissing his forehead once.

You make a move to get up off of him but he only wraps his arms around you, holding you in place. "Don't leave," he whispers, looking up at you with tired eyes. "Just stay, please. For a little bit?"

His sleepy eyes make your heart skip a beat. "Who are you and where's my Minho?" You tease softly, but give in nonetheless.

"Fuck you." But his tone is with filled with anything but malice, as he nuzzles into you like a happy cat.

"I just did." You giggle.

"I love you so much." He mutters, kissing your shoulder. "I love you so fucking much."

"And I love you too."

a/n: I did it ^-^, who's proud of me!! also haven't written reader being penetrated in a looooong time, so if it's shit, oh well :p

pls leave feedback, i need motivation to finish my other teaser fics😭

2K notes · View notes

crazy-only · 4 months ago

Text

oscar finding his reporter cute ! (fluff)

pairing: oscar x fem!reader

premis: oscar helps a shy reporter during an interview and ends up crushing on her! short and sweet, fluff!

preface: posting this in honor of him getting 2nd place in austria !! good job oscar <3

you felt a tap on your shoulder and you spun around, finding a tall guy staring at you. his eyes were bored and a bit annoyed.

“um, can i help you?” you ask politely, checking your watch.

you had already interviewed the drivers that came in third and second place, and you were currently waiting on the first-placing driver to show up.

truth be told, you weren’t really qualified for the job—your sister decided to suddenly honeymoon with her wife and begged for you to replace her. hesitantly, you agreed, dying your hair to match her natural color and hoping your features were similar enough.

the young man scoffed and ran a hand over his face. “woman, you’re joking, yeah?” he asked after rolling his eyes.

honestly, you would’ve assumed this moody guy was the winner as he wore a racing suit, certainly an f1 driver with the after effects of participating in a race apparent, sweat running down his neck leading to the contour of his—

no, y/n! focus! your sister called moments ago saying the winner of the race was extremely ugly, and, according to her words, “you can’t miss him.”

and, as much as you hated to admit it, the fiesty male was far too attractive to fit your sister’s description.

“sorry, i, um, don’t follow?” you say, nervously running your fingers through your hair, microphone in the other hand.

the man looked back to face an older man sporting a mclaren hat, the former muttering something while angrily staring at you.

is this what a red flag feels like before getting torn to shreds by a bull?

“ok, lisa, you’re on air!”

you turn around rapidly at the mention of your sister’s name, searching for the driver you needed to interview.

“um,” you start shyly, looking into the scary camera. “we are still waiting on the pole position winner for the silverstone grand prix—“

there’s laughs amongst the viewers, and you cock your head trying to find their source of amusement.

“—well we are waiting on him to arrive, so sit tight while we try to find him!”

yet, to your horror, the camera stays on, the filming crew motioning for you to continue.

“hey.”

you turn to find the same utterly attractive yet rude driver staring down at you, mouth in a line and arms crossed as if he were the one that should be stressed.

“oh, you again,” you accidentally mutter into the microphone, freezing once you realized what you’ve done. except, the crowd simply laughed.

you cursed under your breath.

they’re laughing at you, y/n. you’re such a dumbass.

“yes,” the young man said sarcastically while tugging the mic towards himself, only helping to raise the volume of the laughs from the stands. “it’s me again.”

you nodded, anxiety burning in your veins, not knowing what to say. this was not as simple as your sister had said it would be.

“while we’re waiting for the grand prix winner,” oscar said, now stealing the mic completely, “why don’t i ask you some questions, reporter?”

crap!

“uh, okay,” you murmur into the mic the driver stretches towards you. for some reason your palms started getting clammy. was it your nerves?

he puts a hand on his hip and pretends to be in a deep state of thinking. “let’s start with an easy question.” he came closer so your bodies were only a pace away.

“who’s your favorite driver?”

uh oh.

“th-that would be, erm, lan?—lando!”

phew. thank god you remembered the name of the last driver you interviewed!

but the driver interviewing you walked away, suddenly a bit angry. then he ran back into frame, looking into the camera. “do you see how i’m treated around here?”

the crowds laughed, and you hid your smile.

was this the same person you met earlier? how was he so. so—so amiable?

“ok ms. reporter, next one: do you have a sister?”

“yes,” you said into the outstretched mic, trying to hide the shakiness in your voice.

then the man brushed his hand against yours just below the vision of the camera, and—was that a smile? did he just smile at you?

your breathing slowed, thankfully feeling a lot more calm.

you continued, saying, “i do. her name is y/n.”

the driver nodded, acting as if he were actually interested. “is she cute?” the man whispered into the mic.

and god, you would’ve thought this was a comedy show thanks to the immense amount of laughing if he weren’t dressed in a sweaty race suit that perfectly hugged his abdominal region and quads—

then you saw him walk slightly out of the frame, waving at you frantically. he mouthed:

ask me about the race!

good idea.

you leaned into the mic the man held, flooded by his addicting scent. “how was your race?”

“ah, thanks for asking,” he said, clearly having a talent for acting. “it was great! i’m really happy with my results. i scored a lot of points for my team, so honestly i couldn’t have asked for more.”

he went on about the technicalities and such of his car, what went wrong and right, what he should improve on; thankfully he talked until the time was out.

“well, there you have it!” you say as the camera crew gave you the cue to stop the interview.

“what’s your name, again?” you whispered to him.

at this point he just leaned into the mic. “it’s oscar piastri.” the crowd went wild, making him smile.

for some reason you got stupidly jealous.

“seems our pole position driver never showed up—“ you started saying, until the camera crew pointed towards a lit screen with words.

“but nonetheless, thank you for tuning in,” you said, and then continued reading the transcript, explaining the time and date for the next race.

once finished, the camera finally shut off, and with a big sigh, you retired your mic and made your way to your car. never again were you doing another favor for your sister.

“good job, y/n,” oscar murmured, having bent down from behind so only you could hear him. “turns out you are cute.”

fuck. how did he find out?

you swept around, hand over mouth in dread.

“oh, come on, it was obvious!” oscar said proudly. “you did not know a single thing about racing—and you look so different from your sister.”

you simply stood in shock. quietly gauging whatever despicable plan he was carrying out.

“do you still not know who i am?” he asked incredulously.

you cocked your head. “you’re a driver. what was it? osc-oscar pastry?”

he handed his heavy helmet over to you.

“there. now you’ll never forget my name again. it’s fucking piastri.” he ran his hands over his face, losing patience.

“ask me who won the race!” oscar finally said, cracking.

“um, we aren’t in the interview anymore?—“

he shook you by the arms, saying, “i won the goddamn race! i got first, y/n!”

“you’re the grand prix winner?! b-but my sister told me you were supposed to be unattractive!”

oscar raised his eyebrows, asking “is that so?” he tilted his head slightly, a cheshire cat’s smile forming.

“does that mean you find me attractive?”

uh oh.

your body was on fire, maybe more anxious than from the interview.

“since you kept staring at my body the whole interview,” oscar said as he smirked down at you, his brown eyes clearly satisfied at your shocked reaction. “take me out and i won’t tell.”

maybe you would do more of your sister’s favors.

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar smut #oscar piastri

1K notes · View notes

rafeacs · 4 months ago

Text

Best Friend Rafe x Reader Petty Jealousy

Warnings: None (yet), fluff, soft rafe, jealousy, yearning, rafe finally makes a move

Rafe was growing restless in your absence. You had been gone for two weeks while you and your parents were on vacation in Italy. He and you did FaceTimed often. Rafe did not mind waking up in the middle of the night just to talk to you for a few minutes, but that wasn’t enough. He was used to you being just minutes away from him. You did message him frequently, updating him with pictures, but you were too busy to actually hold a prolonged conversation with him. He knew he was not entitled to feel as such; you were just best friends, but still, he could not help but grow weary in your absence.

When the day finally came for your return, he had the urge to pick you up at the airport himself, but that action seemed a tad too desperate. So he waited until you finally called him to hang out. Rafe was playing a round of golf in the club with Kelce and Topper when he turned his direction towards the club’s bar and saw your distinct outline that he had thoroughly memorized. He felt a true smile creep to his lips, but it soon faded as he realized that you had your arms linked with a random guy. Rafe squinted his eyes to see who you were with, but due to the distance, he could not make out his face.

Rafe’s mood was quick to dampen, his hold on his putter growing tighter, and no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on his shot, he was distracted by who the guy you were with was. “Woah, chill,” Topper laughed as Rafe grunted and smashed his putter upon the once untainted grass, jealousy quick to consume him. He turned towards the club restaurant once more and saw you seated on the bar with the stranger still right next to you. “I’m leaving,” Rafe gritted and threw his golf club to the ground and took the golf cart despite the protest of his friends he left stranded in the middle of the field.

Rafe’s frame was rigged when he approached you, body consumed with anger as he watched you tilt your head back as you laughed with the random dude he was so close to beating up. “Rafe!” You exclaimed as you saw him from your peripheral vision. You were quick to stand and run to him, engulfing him with a hug. Through his anger, Rafe still wrapped his big arms around your frame and lifted you up, his lips twitching as he heard you giggle. “Missed me that much?” He lightly chuckled, completely forgetting about the presence you were with earlier. “A bit,” you shrugged as you parted from him.

You glanced behind and pulled Rafe toward where you once sat. “Rafe, meet Lorenzo,” you smiled as you introduced the two of them. Rafe gritted his jaw as Lorenzo stood and led out his hand for Rafe to shake. Rafe begrudgingly shook his hand so as not to appear brazen in front of you, but he made sure to painfully tighten his hold, smirking as he watched Lorenzo grimace.

“Nice to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you these past few weeks,” Lorenzo smiled. Rafe was surprised that he did not have an Italian accent, as he had suspected; Lorenzo spoke with a British accent, and Rafe immediately felt threatened as he remembered how you would always gush about how much you loved British accents. “Really? I heard nothing about you. Who are you?” Rafe said abruptly, making your eyes widen. “Lorenzo’s a son of a close family friend— I mentioned him before; you must just forgot,” You smiled but widened your eyes at Rafe, urging him to be kinder.

Lorenzo felt the tensions rise, and he cleared his throat, “I erm… I better go. Jetlag’s getting the best of me. See you back at the house?” He asked but did not really give you room to respond as he quickly kissed both your cheeks and left. Rafe stared widely at his action and was ready to pounce on him.“What was that?” You exclaimed at Rafe as soon as Lorenzo left. “He’s British! You can’t be so blatantly rude; they greatly frown upon that!” You explained, lightly hitting Rafe on his muscled chest as you took a seat on the stool once more. Rafe shrugged, “What? I just said I don’t know him because you never mentioned him.” He gritted and ordered drinks for the both of you.

“I did! Remember? He was my childhood best friend before we moved here?” Rafe’s hand clenched tightly around the cold glass. Childhood best friend? He was your best friend! “How long is he staying here?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Only a few days, so be nice! I haven’t seen him in about eleven years, so please make him feel welcome.” You pleaded and placed your hand on his tense arm. Rafe shook his head, but you smiled up at him, poking his side and urging him to agree. After a few more pokes on his waist, the spot you knew he was ticklish in, he finally cracked a smile and sighed. “Fine,” He sighed, and you squealed and stood, kissing his cheek and wrapping your arms around him.

Rafe’s tense frame relaxed as he felt you around him. “Now come on, I wanna play tennis, and Sarah’s busy,” you pulled at him to stand. Rafe downed his drink and followed you to the tennis court, trying not to let his gaze stray too long downwards to your plump behind, clad in a rather short and tight tennis skirt.

After countless rounds of tennis, with you beating Rafe every single time, the sun was beginning to set, and you only remembered that you had a dinner to attend to. “What’s the rush? Scared I’ll beat you?” Rafe laughed as you pulled him away from the court so he could bring you home.

“Are you going to Top’s party later?” You asked, and Rafe shrugged, “Depends,” he said. “Why? You’re going? You hate house parties,” Rafe suddenly frowned as he turned a corner. “I do, but I want to bring Lorenzo to one— he said he’s rather curious about American parties,” You shrugged as Rafe pulled into your driveway. “So you’re not going?” You confirmed, and Rafe immediately shook his head. “No, I'm going if you’re going. I’ll pick you up at nine,” He said, and you smiled quickly, kissing his cheek in gratitude before bidding him goodbye for you to attend your family’s dinner. Rafe felt his heart stagger at the feeling of your lips against his skin. The jealousy he felt faded, and his skin tingled whilst a boyish smile that only you could conjure appeared on his lips.

Rafe rolled into your driveway at exactly nine, stepped out of his truck, and leaned on the passenger door as he waited for you. He felt a small smile twitch on his lips as you stepped out your front door, but it quickly disappeared as he saw you walk out hand in hand with Lorenzo. “Nice to see you again, Rafe,” Lorenzo smiled politely. Rafe bit his tongue and resisted rolling his eyes. “Yeah, nice of you to join us,” He grumbled and opened the passenger seat for you.

He drove to Topper’s house, the car filled with conversation between you and Lorenzo, him growing reserved and annoyed that your attention was not solely on him. “I don’t really understand why you want to go to a house party,” You mused as Rafe helped you out from the passenger seat. Lorenzo shrugged, “I always see it in the movies and just wanted to experience one first hand,” Rafe rolled his eyes as he placed his hand on the small of your back and guided you through the crowded entrance to Topper’s house.

“Let’s go get some drinks!” You exclaimed and took hold of Lorenzo’s arm and pulled him towards the drinks table, leaving Rafe to mingle with the other partygoers, but he had no wish to mingle; he wanted to be with you!

Rafe secured a spot for the two of you on the couch, waiting for your return as Kelce chatted up with him. “Hey, who’s that guy she’s with? She finally got a boyfriend?” He snickered, knowing Rafe would react badly to his insinuation. “No.” He almost growled. Kelce smirked and shook his head in amusement, “I told you, dude, It’s been fucking years— just make a move, you pussy!” He laughed and quickly exited, fearing Rafe would physically retaliate.

“I got you a beer!” You screamed as you pushed your way through the crowd and spotted Rafe’s hulking body seated on the couch. His tense frame momentarily relaxed as he saw you. You handed Rafe the bottle and turned to Lorenzo, “You can take that seat; I could just stand,” You offered, wanting your guest to be comfortable. Rafe clenched his jaw as you made your way to sit on the armrest of the chair, but you yelped as he pulled you onto his lap. Rafe smirked as neither you nor Lorenzo expected his actions. It was not that it was uncommon; you often sat on Rafe’s lap when there were no more seats; why should this instance be different?

For the better part of the night, you and Lorenzo were the only ones chatting, and Rafe was just there, acting like your chair and having his arms wrapped around your frame. “I’ll get another drink,” Lorenzo excused, and you nodded, taking his place on the couch and offering relief for Rafe’s legs, for you had been sitting on his lap for the past hour. “Oh shoot, I need a drink too.” You suddenly said as you looked down at your cup. “I’ll just g—“ Rafe immediately stood and shook his head, not wanting you to spend more time with Lorenzo; it was petty, yes, but he had reserved to be petty and jealous. “I’ll get it,” He gritted, and you frowned as you only now realize that Rafe was rather in a sour mood.

“Okay,” You say softly, trying to figure out why your best friend was irritated. Rafe shuffled through the crowds, a severe frown on his brow as his jealousy was eating him inside out. Each moment he watched, you and Lorenzo planted further fear in him. Each conversation you had rolled off effortlessly; the history between you was deep, and you two even had inside jokes. He could just not fathom the thought that another person— another guy knew everything about you, possibly even more. He just could not accept the fact that he had to share you.

Rafe clenched his jaw as he saw your preferred drink was all gone. He pushed through the crowd and went to the pantry to retrieve another bottle, but he was startled as he opened the door and saw a couple making out. He was stunned to see Lorenzo locking lips with another guy, “Do you mind?” The random guy Lorenzo was with snapped, and Rafe could only blink and shut the door, unable to process the scene before him. Rafe stumbled to where he left you, his irritated face now filled with shock.

“Are you okay?” You asked in concern and assisted Rafe to sit beside you. “I… I uh—“ He mumbled, and you knitted your brows with concern. “I saw Lorenzo making out with a… dude,” He said slowly and expected to see the surprise on your face, but you only looked confused. “Yeah?” You said, unsure. “Aren’t you surprised?” He questioned. “I’d be more surprised if he was making out with a girl.” You shrugged. You feel your lips twitch into a smile as Rafe blinks, and his face contorts into realization. “Oh,” You laughed as the word left his lips. “You’re so cute!” You laughed at his expression.

Rafe shook his head as you pinched his cheek, hoping none saw your actions because it would surely diminish his reputation of being cold and harsh, but at the same time, he didn’t truly care just as long as your attention and affections were focused on him.

“You don’t have to be like this, you know.” You teased as Rafe settled further into the couch. “Like what?” He frowned, “Like you know— jelly. You don’t have to be jealous of Lorenzo; he’s my best friend, but you are my bestest friend.” You smiled, hoping that Rafe would mirror it, but your smile faltered as he frowned and crossed his arms.

Rafe looked at you, the room growing quiet with each second he observed your face and mulled over your words. “I don’t wanna be your best friend,” He suddenly said, and you feel your heart fall out of your chest. You feel goosebumps rise to your skin as you try to process his words. “Oh?” Was all you could word out, feeling your chest bubble with emotion. Rafe shook his head and turned to face you.

“No, I— I don’t want to be just your best friend.” He explained further. “What a—“ The words died on your tongue as you felt lips against yours and a strong hand cupping your cheek. Rafe took the risk that he had wanted to take since the day he met you. He finally kissed you as he had wanted to for so long.

2K notes · View notes

dearaceofhearts · 7 months ago

Text

you walk out after an argument

characters: husk, alastor, angel dust, vox, lucifer word count: 2.9k genre: angst to fluff summary: after an argument with them, you walk out and don't come back for a few days. how do they react? author's note: hello yes this is my first time actually posting something. erm, i think i wrote too much (sorry) but hey we roll with it!! also dude i accidentally posted this before it was ready twice and i had a heart attack oh my god. anyways i don't think vox's is really fluff (oops) but everyone else's is

♡ husk

when you slam the door shut on your way out, husk lets out a low grumble, setting down the glass he was cleaning onto the bar counter with a quiet sigh. it was one of the first arguments you'd had in a long time. although he wasn't usually one to get riled up so easily, the two of you knew each other well enough to know just what buttons to push to get under the other's skin. that, alongside him already having a bad day, had been a recipe for disaster.

in the few days that pass by, it's hard to tell just how affected he is by your absence since he does a pretty good job of keeping a cool facade. to anyone looking, he wouldn't appear any different than usual, just idly cleaning bottles as he always does.

but it's the small things that give away just how much husk cares and worries for you, like how his eyes flicker towards the door whenever someone comes in, his ears perking up slightly. he hates the twinge of disappointment that follows when it's not you, a slight scowl curling at his lips as he takes a swig of alcohol from one of the many bottles on the shelves of the bar. he misses talking to you. you're his favourite drinking buddy, after all.

his gaze always seems to wander back to the front door of the hotel, lingering for just a little too long before he eventually turns back to the bar, expression settling back into its usual grouchiness. but underneath that lies a hint of worry that gnaws at him in the back of his mind, even though he knows you're more than capable of handling yourself. at the end of the day, you can never be too careful in hell.

husk won't force you to come back, but he just wants to know that you're safe and sound. he trusts that you'll come back when you're ready so that the two of you can talk it over and hopefully resolve things. he doesn't want to leave it like this, and he's sure you don't either. you mean a lot more to him than he'd like to admit.

when you decide to finally return to the hotel, he pauses upon catching sight of you stepping through the doorway. he can't help the small wave of relief that washes over him, though you wouldn't be able to tell by the way he smoothly resumes restocking the bar. when you approach the counter, he looks up, giving you a short nod. "hey." he greets you, tone surprisingly softer than you're used to, "you're back."

husk's not really the type to beat around the bush, so he'd likely address the argument pretty quickly. he's also not particularly one for verbal apologies, so he'd probably be more willing to show it through his actions. you see it in the way he lets you cling to him a little longer than he normally does, leaning into him as he wordlessly holds you, his tail loosely curling around your leg. if you listen closely, you can hear some faint purring, too. it makes you smile slightly.

"alright, 'nuff of this sappy stuff." husk grumbles after a few more moments, patting your back gently before pulling back. "i'd kill for a drink right now. care to join me?" he raises a brow, a familiar glint in his eyes as he slides back behind the counter, already moving to make what he knows is your favourite drink.

you grin as you meet his eyes, expression softening. "of course. i'd love nothing more."

♡ alastor

"you're not listening, al." you murmur, exhaling quietly. this makes him pause for a moment, head tilted. your voice sounds different to what he's used to — you're not even angry, no — you just sound... tired. the argument had been going on for a while, and neither of you were getting through to the other.

when you move to leave, he makes no move to stop you, simply watching you with an intent gaze. his voice rings out clear as day in the empty silence. "where do you think you're going, my dear?"

he falters ever so slightly when you turn back to face him with a sturdy, stern gaze, responding with a flatly spoken "out", leaving no room for anything more to be said before closing the door behind you with a quiet click.

alastor won't chase after you, because he expects that you'll come back to him of your own accord. to him, it's basically guaranteed how this'll play out. he's used to demons falling right into his hands without having to exert much effort on his end, and believes that this would be no different.

so when a few days pass by with you not approaching him at all, he finds himself slightly irritated and mildly perplexed, eyes narrowed as his clawed finger taps against his cane with idle impatience. why haven't you sought him out yet?

he's seen you around the hotel, but you've never once acknowledged his presence even if the two of you were in the same room, breezing past him while he's left staring, watching you converse with everyone except him. his eye twitches in irritation, the perpetual smile on his lips strained.

...eventually, after playing a long waiting game to no avail, he decides that perhaps rosie would be able to offer some helpful advice on how to approach this situation, since he's not used to actually handling delicate emotional matters without the— well, the manipulation and deal-making.

one of the main issues is his massive ego. it's that unfaltering pride that gets in the way of him apologising. he may be the radio demon, but all that power can't help him here. and he'd never openly admit to such, but he truly is at somewhat of a loss here. he's already tried most things that he's sure would usually make you forgive him, though for a reason unbeknownst to him, it's not working this time.

"oh alastor," rosie shakes her head with a small huff, "a lady's heart is to be treated with care." she lends some further words of wisdom and encouragement that he listens to with great attentiveness, since he does (begrudgingly) enjoy your company, and it would be a shame if it was lost over such a, in his eyes, trivial matter.

upon his return to the hotel, he manages to get you to sit down with him (after much polite pestering and insistence) to have a chat over some tea. when all is said and done, the two of you sit in a comfortable silence. you sip your tea, watching the blazing fires of hell from the balcony.

"refill?" alastor offers, glancing at you briefly through a sip of his own tea.

"much appreciated." you hum, legs crossed as you throw him a small, slack smile.

♡ angel dust

his frustration slowly fizzles out as the door closes behind you, and the guilt slowly starts to creep in. he knows he shouldn't have said what he did, and he wants nothing more than to apologise and make it up to you — but he understands that it's probably better to give you some time to cool off before trying to approach you again.

despite the argument and the harsh words exchanged between you, the fact that he cares for you with his whole heart will never change, and he hopes you know that too.

while you're away, angel always finds his thoughts drifting to you, wondering how you're doing. are you eating okay? are you drinking enough? sleeping enough? with a shake of his head and a small sigh, he tries his best to return his focus back to the task at hand, whatever it may be.

he knows you can take care of yourself perfectly fine, but he just... misses you. the guilt eats away at him when he's reminded of the look on your face when you left, the brief glimmer of hurt in your eyes before you masked it with anger and tore your gaze away.

one particular night, angel heads over to your room in the hotel out of habit, not really thinking about it when he raises a fist to knock on the door. he had been hoping to spend some time with you, since today had been a particularly rough day for him. he's also been craving for one of your sleepover nights for a while, those nights where you two would stay up to talk about anything and everything until dawn rises. those times were comforting for him — a rare moment of respite in his life.

but then he stops abruptly, remembering that you're not there. he lets his hand fall back to his side, expression quietly downcast. he stands alone in the silent, empty hallway. has it always been this cold?

after a few days, he's just about damn ready to go looking for you, making his way down the stairs as he prepares to head out. he's so focused that he almost misses the sight of you seemingly casually sitting at the bar, nursing a drink in your hands whilst exchanging low murmurs with husk.

he freezes momentarily, taking a deep breath. while he mentally debates with himself whether to approach you or not, husk notices him hesitating on the staircase. he catches angel's gaze, giving him a subtle nod. that's all the affirmation angel needs.

he slides on his usual relaxed demeanour, though it's a little weaker than normal, as he approaches you. he's admittedly a little nervous, but he's determined to work things out with you. he puts a gentle hand on your shoulder to catch your attention. "hey, darlin'. can i talk to you for a minute?"

the two of you head back to your room, where heartfelt apologies are exchanged and a long overdue conversation takes place. at some point during the talk, his hand had found its way on top of yours, thumb brushing over your skin gently. at the end of it all, he gives you a small, content smile. "...baby, you have no idea just how much i adore you." he whispers into the quiet, running his fingers through your hair comfortingly as your head rests on his shoulder.

it was an unspoken agreement that tonight was going to be a sleepover night. prepare for lots of cuddling and gentle, soft kisses.

♡ vox

he's the type to go "ha, see if i care!" when you leave, but he'll still check on you occasionally through the various cameras and electronics around the city — he swears it's just because he's making sure the new limited edition voxtek product he had given to you isn't damaged.

(...it's totally because he's looking out for you, by the way. even if it's only a little. you are his darling, after all. and uh, you'll never know what happened to that guy who tried to hit on you that one time).

(vox made sure not even a trace of that bastard remained).

his obnoxious pride makes him reluctant to reach out first. that, and he's a petty little shit. so everyone around him, whether that be the other vees or his employees, is stuck dealing with his foul mood. he's become even more irritable and susceptible to lashing out than usual since you left.

he'd rather die than admit it, but you were a calming presence in his life that he hadn't realised he needed until you were gone. he hates just how much power you have over him, though you may or may not realise it. he's supposed to be the one in charge. when did you manage to sneak into his heart? his mind is occupied with thoughts of you.

and it only frustrates him more, because you're not here.

all his employees are left on edge, even more so when he takes his anger out on some poor soul who had gotten the numbers wrong on the report they handed in. "clean this mess up." vox snaps, glowering as he fixes the cuffs of his sleeves. the demon at the door hurriedly moves to do as he says, not wanting to risk meeting the same fate.

"what? what are you looking at?" he turns, eyes narrowing at the rest of the employees who flinch, hastily turning their eyes back to the screens in front of them. "get back to work." he mutters sharply, an unspoken threat in his words.

his volatile temperament goes on for a while, until velvette decides she's finally had enough and sends you a (not so) polite text to resolve your little lover's spat before she takes matters into her own hands.

meanwhile, vox is in his office. nothing seems to be going his way, and he's just about to blow another fuse when you nonchalantly throw open the doors, inviting yourself in. he freezes, staring at you for a few moments. you raise a brow. "...so. i heard you were throwing another hissy fit."

vox scowls at that, grumbling under his breath. "oh yeah? and what'd you come back for, you prissy little princess?" he sneers, clawed fingers digging into the desk with a quiet screech. "couldn't go without me for long, huh?"

"ha. you wish that was the case." you scoff, rolling your eyes with a half-amused, irked smile curling at your lips. things escalate into another argument pretty quickly, with the two of you at each other's throats. he towers over you, eyes narrowing as his grin widens in mild irritation.

it's a back and forth for quite some time, until you get sick of it and grab him by the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer until you're glaring at one another face to face. "what the fuck do you think you're—" he starts, but he's quickly cut off when your lips crash into his. vox is stunned for a few moments but soon snaps out of it, swiftly returning your kiss with equal, if not more, ferocity and intensity.

"finally got you to shut up." you murmur, grinning as you part to catch your breath and release his shirt from your grasp. before you can pull back completely, however, his hand reaches up to rest against the back of your neck, the other firmly on your waist. it takes another long, drawn-out kiss for him to finally let you go — though not really, since he's still holding you close in his arms.

"...that was hot." he whispers breathlessly, staring down at you with a somewhat satisfied glint in his eyes. but you both know that there's more to come.

suffice to say, the two of you sorted things out.

♡ lucifer

he would regret everything almost instantly. lucifer realises just how badly he fucked up when you leave without looking back. he's not even quite sure what happened as he stands alone in the room, blinking as he's left to process everything on his own. his mind is a jumbled mess, and he can't think clearly.

all he can feel is a suffocating rush of fear as he snaps out of his daze and hurries after you, desperate to find you before you're gone. he doesn't want to take his chances. what if you don't come back? what if—

he had said things that he didn't mean, and now the weight of it all feels crushing on his shoulders. he's torn between wanting to reach out to apologise and giving you time to cool down. he doesn't want to be a bother, but also really wants to make things up to you.

most of all, he just wants reassurance that you'll come back to him and that he hasn't messed things up for good. he doesn't want to lose you. you're too precious to him for that, and he's mentally kicking himself for ever making you question your importance to him for even a second.

thankfully, you haven't gone too far so he's able to catch up to you, taking a hold of your wrist firmly. however, when you turn to look at him, he falters, the words dying in his throat. he swallows, softly clearing his throat as he scrambles to say something, anything to stop you from leaving. to reaffirm his love for you.

"...sweetheart, i'm so sorry," he whispers, expression twisted and heart heavy with remorse and sorrow as he brings you close, grip subconsciously tightening because he's afraid to let you go. "i'll do anything, i'll make it up to you, i—" he trails off, burying his face into your shoulder, "just, please... don't leave. i'm sorry."

you really can't stay mad at him for too long after seeing his genuine sincerity. he acknowledges his wrongs, wanting nothing more than to make up for his mistakes and make you feel as appreciated and cared for as you've made him feel over the course of you two knowing each other. you sigh gently, thumb lightly brushing over his cheek. "...alright, silly. let's go home."

his eyes light up at that, and he's reminded of just how grateful he is to have you here by his side as you guys make your way home together. he holds your hand the entire time.

after the two of you make up, you find that he'll leave little gifts and cute trinkets around for you despite your gentle assurances that he doesn't have to. he also gives you lots of forehead kisses. he just wants to make sure you never forget how much he loves you, and that you mean the world to him.

2K notes · View notes

cheriladycl01 · 25 days ago

Text

Kinktober 19/10/2024 Franco Colapinto - Panty Kink

Plot: Franco is absolutely obsessed with any and all of your underwear…

Warnings: Kinktober, SMUT, panty sniffing, panty licking, panty stealing, anything and all things panties, eating out, dry hump etc

Since you and Franco started dating it was a sweet and unproblematic relationship. But you couldn’t help but notice some … stranger things the longer you guys were together.

The first time he’d ever stayed over, he just slept in the bed with you after you guys ate loads of junk food and snacks.

A week after he left when you were doing a load of washing you noticed that some of your underwear, specifically your panties and lace ones at that had gone missing.

“Franco baby?” You asked over the phone when you decided to call him to see if he’d accidentally added them to the rucksack he’d brought his clothes in.

“Hi baby, argh god I miss you” you groans happily into the phone and you can’t help the butterflies that rise in your stomach.

“I miss you too. I was just wondering if you accidentally took any of my underwear with you when you left. I know I stripped off and left some at the edge of my wash basket because it was kind of full, but I can’t find them” you say and you hear a little shuffling as if he had gone to his bag to double check.

Little did you know, he had in fact taken them. Right out your dirty laundry basket before using them as he gave himself a hand job using the lace material against his dick for that added sensation.

But of course he wouldn’t admit that.

“Erm let me check the wash coz they aren’t in my bag” he says and he was just making up time to make it all seem more plausible. He had in fact chucked them in the wash after he’d come all over them and wanted them clean for his next time. However now that you were on to them he’d have to give them back.

“Thank you. They’re the only pair that go with the dress I’m supposed to wear this weekend” you tell him.

“Oh yeah they’re here in the washing machine with my stuff from that night” he says and they were mixed in with his washing, now your panties smell like him.

He couldn’t tell what he preferred, your sent on them from wearing them all day and being a little musky from your natural aroma that was driving him crazy and he couldn’t wait to get his first taste. Or his sent on them, making an item of yours smell so much like him which also made his brain a little haywire.

“Thanks baby, you wanna come over tonight?” You ask hoping that he would considering you felt like you hadn’t seen him in ages.

After that, it was a while before anything else bizarre happened. Until you guys were first having sex, he was obsessed with your panties, he’d dragged them down your legs with his teeth and pocketed them in his jeans before he went down on you like a starved man.

You didn’t think anything off it, if anything you found it kind of hot.

And after that, whenever you guys when to races together he’d always dip his hands into your jeans or skirt, whatever you were wearing and running his fingers up and down the hand of the thongs you were wearing that rested nicely on your curved hips.

It wasn’t until you caught him in the act. It was a race weekend and he’d just been promoted from F2 to F1 in a Williams seat. You were insanely proud of him and took the last few days of your working week to travel to Italy with him when you heard.

You’d gone out for dinner with the other wags, Lily becoming your older sister role model in the paddock. Of course neither you nor Franco were media trained so you had been caught on camera being rather chaotic together, and everyone already seemed to adore you.

However when you come back to the hotel room, earlier than the others who were going out clubbing instead and you didn’t really feel like going you decided to go back.

What you didn’t expect was as you got to the hotel room door to open it to here a sort of whimper. You went in as to you from the outside it sounded like he could have been in pain.

As you walked in you saw a sight you never expected.

It was your boyfriend with your sexy pink underwear wrapped in his hand around his dick that was rubbing up and down his shaft releasing moans from deep in the back of his throat.

“Franco?” You asked shocked he hasn’t heard you open the door. His hand dropped and he looked at you in shock before grabbing a pillow to cover himself up.

“Baby! What are you doing back your early” he gulps out looking at you with wide eyes. Full of lust and need.

“All the girls were going clubbing, I didn’t want to go- are you using my underwear?” You ask looking at him shocked and confused. In seconds he’s up and coming up to you, tears building in his eyes as he puts both his hands on your cheeks.

Worry was all that you could see in his eyes now.

“I-I’m so sorry I should have told you but” and ends up rambling about your panties and his kink for anything to do with the provocative underwear, even if it wasn’t provocative he still loved it.

“Baby baby baby, shush it’s okay” you chuckle not bothered about the fact he was using your stuff to help him get off.

“W-what? You just came back to find me using your stuff to get off. Aren’t you mad?” He asks, sniffing a little bit.

“No, you’re my boyfriend. I think it’s sweet you like my panties. But you really couldn’t wait for me to come back? Or were you too embarrassed to ask for my panties” you ask, and he looks down.

“I-“ he starts but you pull him into a kiss, shushing him immediately.

“How about this. I’m here to help now, and you can do whatever you want with the panties I’m in now?” You grin, hoping he wouldn’t feel as embarrassed and open up to you.

“Thank you mi amor” he says before lifting you up and putting you on the bed. He doesn’t waste anytime hitching your dress up. His head immediately dived in between your legs, his nose hitting your clothed clit as he inhales a breath of you.

“Franco” you moan looking down in confusion to see what he’s doing.

“Smell so good. Could just stay here forever” he groans as he kicked a strip up your panties nudging his nose in a little more making a moan come from you.

“Baby…” you moan, your hand coming down into his hair gripping him in closer. He pulls the panties just to the side. Wanting to keep them there as his tongue dove into your deep and wet cavern. His groan vibrated around you making you gasp and your eyes squint shut at the feeling.

Franco had a thing for eating you out. All of your previous relationships, didn’t really do that but my god Franco wasn’t scared to have his chin dripping with your juices by then end.

His nose hit the perfect spot making your hips buck up as that feeling inside you released right into his awaiting mouth.

“Oh my god, so fucking good” you moan as he pulls your panties back across. They were gray and him seeing that little wet spot now building on them made him sit at the edge of the bed. He kept his boxers on and pulled you off the bed so you were stood in front of me.

“Want you on me” he points to his dick making a tent in his boxers and you immediately know he wants you to ride him with your panties on. Both you being clothed and just having that friction.

You turn yourself around so your facing away from him before you balance against his lowered lap, perfect height for your to run your clothed pussy against his restrained dick.

“Fuck baby, that’s it” he says, his hands on your hips snapping the edging of your panties against your hips making you moan out. You swivel your hips a little quicker making him thrust up into you trying to get as much out of it as he can.

“Oh fuck baby I’m gonna cum, gonna cum” he moans his thrusts becoming wild as his dick as the roughness of both sets of underwear rubbing against him. Before he knows it, his white strings of cum are being forced out of his own gray boxers and staining the back of your own panties as you keep moving to reach your own high, which isn’t too much longer after him.

“Fuck that was so good” you say gripping his thighs as you slow down. You turn round to see him, a fucked out expression on his face.

“This… this is why you tell me your kinks” you laugh at him, before getting up to get cleaning supplies from the bathroom. The last thing he sees is the wet spots on your panties from his own cum and your own sweet release.

While your in the bathroom he hears some movement and russling and before he knows it a gray fabric is launched at him.

In his hands was your damp underwear.

And at the moment seeing you grinning, watching him to see his reaction and he knew at that moment you were the one for him.

Taglist:

@littlebitchsposts @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

884 notes · View notes