#I hope there will be fanfics | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kamaluhkhan · 17 days ago

Text

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.”

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.

“why’s that?” you ask.

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?”

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!”

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?”

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says.

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.

so, you do remember.

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun.

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.

“you know powder’s graduating this year?”

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.”

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile.

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.

“you remember.”

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp.

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers.

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away.

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.

“i better go.”

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.

i’ll see you later. love you!

2K notes · View notes

snoopyracing · 8 months ago

Text

just us // ln4

pairing: lando norris X reader

word count: 15k (again i don't know how to write short fics)

warnings: cursing, alcohol use, smut (18+) (p in v, no protection, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, slight degradation, and exhibitionsim if you squint)

includes: friends to lovers, hidden relationship, jealous!lando, reader and lando being yappers, and reader X max f X lando friendship

summary: the three times your secret relationship with lando almost gets exposed and the one time it finally does.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The sun had just made her grand entrance to the world, golden rays illuminating the quiet Monaco apartment owned by a certain McLaren F1 driver. White bed sheets askew as the two lovers still slept soundly, soft snores echoing through the bedroom. Clothes from the previous nights activities scattered across the floor, almost making a path from the front door to their shared bed. The idea of waking up on neither of their minds, but the sun ray peeking through the open blind caused one of them to stir.

The light shining directly on your face proved opening your eyes to be a little difficult. Squinting, you blindly reached towards the nightstand to grab your phone, but the empty pats on the wood told you your phone wasn't there. A small groan left your lips, even without your phone to see what time it was, you knew it was early. You knew just from the certain birds that were chirping outside, their melodies always filling your ears when you had to get up early.

As you sat up in bed you noticed your lack of pajamas, and as you spotted the trail of clothes leading out of the bedroom you knew your phone had to be somewhere between here and the front door. Memories of the passionate night the two of you shared came flooding back as you leaned against the headboard, the bed sheet tucked under your arms being the only thing to keep your modesty.

The snores coming from beside you told you that Lando was still sound asleep. He was laying on his stomach with his face turned towards you and his arms tucked under his pillow. His muscular arms on full display as he slept like a baby. The shared sheet only covering his bottom half, allowing for his toned back to be exposed.

It was a rare occurrence for the two of you to get mornings like this, or really any chance for you to just admire him in his natural beauty. Lando was always the first to wake, not that he wanted to be, but his lifestyle required him to. Either waking up to travel for race weeks, work out, or work on Quadrant stuff. The boy was going nonstop, so moments like this you never took for granted. It almost brought a sense of normalcy to your lives.

As he laid next to you right now he wasn't some famous Formula 1 driver, he was just Lando. The sweet boy who always texted you good morning and goodnight when the two of you were apart, the boy who always ate the tomatoes off your sandwiches, who always let you pick the music in the car, who always brings you back a stupid tourist souvenir from races you didn't attend. He was yours, every last bit of him.

Your eyes now fully adjusted to the sunlight, grazed over every detail of him. From his little moles, to his eyelashes that made his eyes even more beautiful, to his perfect nose, his jawline sculpted by the gods, and lastly his heart shaped lips. As your eyes moved down to his back you could resist in reaching out your hand to trace mindless patterns as you counted every little mole and freckle that adorned his back.

Feeling him stir under your touch you quickly snatched your hand back, the last thing you had wanted to do was wake him up. And you had thought you were in the clear until a deep, still filled with sleep, voice filled your ears.

"Why'd you stop for?" His eyes were still closed as he untucked his hand from under his pillow, grabbing your now idle hand and moving it back to its prior location on his back.

"So needy." You teased as you resumed the mindless patterns you drew moments ago.

"Hmm. Only for you." He hummed as he felt your touch on him once again. The sensation almost lulling him back to sleep, until the sun that had awoken you moved towards Lando, the beam of light now adorning his face. He looked almost ethereal to you in this light, a moment you wished you had your phone for to capture. His blue eyes even brighter as the light poured into them. "Jesus." He mumbled as he quickly moved away from the light.

"Yeah I don't think the sun wants us to sleep in today, woke me up too." You glanced back at the open blind, then back to the Brit who now was on his side, hand propping up his head as he looked at you. "Maybe if someone closed the blind last night we'd both still be asleep."

A smirk formed on his face at the memories of last night's events. "Maybe if someone would have kept their hands off of me, I would have remembered to close the blind."

"As if!" You scoffed.

His eyebrows raised, cheesy grin on his face as he recalled your words to him. "Really? Because all I can seem to remember is 'lan please touch me' 'i need you' 'don't sto-"

A pillow came barreling towards his face, his words mumbled as he continued to tease you. "Ok! Enough!" You hollered out, a blush creeping onto your cheeks at his words.

"Awe, is my girl embarrassed?" Laughter laced in his words as he moved closer to you. "Honestly I love the fact that you can't keep your hands off me and the day that I don't is the day I need to be taken out back and shot."

"You're so fucking dramatic I cannot." You laughed, eyes rolling playfully at him. "It's a good thing I love you Norris."

His smile still not leaving his face as he switched to join you in sitting up in bed. His hands reaching out to cup your face as he leaned in closer. "You better." He teased before connecting his lips with yours. The feeling something you prayed you'd never grow tired of. His kisses always had somewhat of a drug feeling to you, always making you want more, point proven as he went to pull away you were grabbing at him, pulling him back in. And when you had finally got your full fix he was the one that looked like a dopey fool, lips swollen and eyes hooded. "God I love you." He stated as his fingers traced from your neck down to your arm.

A smirk was tugging at your lips as you repeated Lando's words back to him. "You better."

The two of you spent the remainder of the morning wrapped in each other. Your head on his chest as he ran his hands through your hair, your fingers tracing patterns on his torso. It was peaceful, until the obvious topic that lingered in both your minds had finally festered enough. "We need to talk about yesterday Lan."

Ah, yes, yesterday. How could he forget? How could he forget that he exposed their hidden relationship to the whole world on accident.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The said hidden relationship had been going on for around seven months, but Lando and you had known each other for years. The two of you met through mutual friends and instantly clicked. A bond formed and in what seemed like no time. Lando was someone you considered a best friend or a platonic other half, he just somehow always got you, knew what you were thinking, knew what to do when you were feeling upset or stressed. For Lando you were the one person who could calm him down after a bad race, who could make him laugh without even trying, and was the first person he thought of when he woke up in the morning. You knew each other's favorite foods, childhood dreams, and embarrassing secrets.

You attending the occasional races that were closer to home soon turned into Lando practically begging you to come to any race you could. Off weeks and breaks always spent in each others company. To any outsider looking in, the two of you were practically already together, at least it seemed like it. But if anyone asked either of you if there were feelings there (which many friends had) the both of you would say no. The both of you had never looked at each other in that way. Yes you loved him and you knew he loved you. And yes you weren't blind he was very attractive, but romantic feelings had never crossed your mind. You always pointed out to the people that prodded you with questions about Lando and you, that the both of you've had relationships in the time you've known each other. None of them ever lasting very long though. The both of them not knowing at the time that they were the main causes of their failed relationships.

Though, everything changed one cold January night in London. He had been handsy with you all night at the club, which Lando's hands on you wasn't a new concept, but tonight was excessive and different. His large hands always somehow planted on your hips, his chin resting on your shoulder. You blamed it on the alcohol, that he was just feeling affectionate, but you couldn't deny the feelings that were starting to fester inside of you. The feeling of him pressed up behind you. The feeling of his breath tickling your neck when he would whisper something in your ear. It was awakening something foreign in you towards Lando.

You could feel people's eyes on the two of you, videos undoubtedly being uploaded to social media. It wasn't the first time you had gotten filmed in public, in fact you were used to it, but under tonights circumstances you felt annoyed. You weren't sure if it was the music pouding in your chest or your heart, but combine that with the random eyes staring at you while Lando's hands are on you and this club was the last place you wanted to be. It felt suffocating almost, and you could barely manage to tell Lando you were heading home before you wriggled out of his grasp and made a b-line for the exit.

The cold air that hit your lungs as you exited the club was a soothing relief. The deep breaths you took as you pulled up Uber on your phone had managed to steady your heart rate, but that lasted for a mere second as a familiar hand landed on your shoulder.

"Y/N. Are you okay?"

Goosebumps formed on your skin and you weren't sure if it was from the cold or his touch. You didn't dare look back at him, just focused your attention on getting a ride. "I'm not feeling great. Think I may have drank too much." Lie. Both you and Lando knew you had barely had two drinks tonight and your very much coherent words did nothing to back up your statement. "I've got an Uber on the way. You stay. I'll be fine." Your eyes never leaving your phone as you spoke.

Lando had shuffled to the side of you and you could feel his eyes burning into you. "No, if you're leaving then so am I. Think I could crash at your place?"

Any other night this wouldn't have been such a big deal, Lando had stayed the night at your place many of times and you vise versa, but tonight was not like any other night. The mere idea of sharing a bed with him (because that's what friends do right?) made your head spin. All you had wanted to do was go home, take a cold shower, and try to rationalize these feelings you've had tonight. But your mouth was thinking faster than your brain and a 'sure' came tumbling out past your lips.

"Ok good." Lando stated, a smile tugging at his lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into his side. The simple action causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach and that's when you knew the goosebumps from earlier were caused by the later option.

The 15 minute drive back to your place felt like an eternity.

The simple gesture of Lando putting his hand on your thigh as you got settled in the back seat made your breath catch in your throat. His head quirked towards you, eyebrows furrowed and his long fingers squeezed your thigh as he asked. "You good?"

You were in fact far from good. Your best friend was getting you hot and bothered in the back of an Uber, so no you weren't good.

"Just choked on my own spit, you know me."

The entire ride his hand felt like a thousand pounds on your thigh, the gesture that you never once batted an eyelash at now had you practically wanting to jump out of the moving vehicle.

The smell of his cologne was making your head spin as you tried to focus on anything other than how fast your heart was beating. If it hadn't been freezing outside you would have rolled down the window and stuck your head outside like a dog.

As the driver turned down your street you already had a grip on the door handle and he hadn't even come to a complete stop before you were opening the door and getting out.

Lando was fast on your heels, and by the time you entered your apartment you had decided that you were sleeping on the couch tonight.

A puzzled Lando stood motionless as he watched you carry a pillow and blanket from your room to the couch in the living room. "What are you doing?"

"I'm gonna sleep out here tonight. You can have my bed." You stated as you made your way towards your bedroom to grab some pajamas. The faster you could get ready for bed and away from whatever spell Lando had on you the better.

He had sat down on your bed as you rummaged through your dresser and you hadn't even heard him follow you to the bathroom until he spoke.

"Are you still not feeling good? Is that the reason you're sleeping on the couch? Or are you pissed at me? I'm already sorry for whatever I did."

As you glanced over at him he was leaning against the door frame and the sight of his shirt slightly raised up should not have made your heart beat quicken like it did, but yet here you were. You ignored his question, instead you were digging through the bathroom drawers, on a mission for your makeup wipes, but you couldn't seem to locate them.

"Top left." Lando shuffled into the bathroom towards the said drawer and as he pulled it open there sat your makeup wipes. A small smirk played at his lips as he handed them over to you.

You mumbled out a 'thanks' as you took them from him. As you took off your makeup he grabbed his toothbrush from the medicine cabinet. And as the two of you stood side by side getting ready for bed you realized just how much the scene playing out was nothing shy of domestication. What male friend knows what drawer your makeup wipes are in? And has his own toothbrush in your bathroom, not the guest bathroom? Has his own drawer in your dresser? Has his designated side of the bed? What other male friend touches you the way Lando does? Holds you? What other person in your life knew you as well as Lando? Who else did you have matching necklaces with? Your brain wouldn't stop with the questions, your body autopiloting the rest of your nighttime routine.

You felt Lando's arms sneak around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you made eye contact in the mirror. "Don't make me sleep alone tonight." He mumbled, before retreating to your bedroom. His words felt like ice in your veins and as you stood there staring back at yourself in the mirror you realized one thing.

You were fucked.

Thinking back to everytime one of your friends asking if Lando and you were together and you saying no, that there were no romantic feelings there now suddenly seemed like a big lie. Jesus christ, you guys were literally together, minus the kissing and sex, the two of you acted like you were in a relationship.

Did you have romantic feelings for Lando though?

The simple thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' honestly had never crossed your mind. And thinking back to his past relationships there was never any jealousy coming from your side. So was all this that you were feeling tonight just a fluke? Maybe a side effect from the dry spell you've been having when it came to sex? But as you still stood there staring mindlessly at your reflection all the little pieces started to fit together.

You had said there were no feelings because your brain had blurred the lines between friendship and romantic feelings so much you couldn't tell the difference. Maybe it was your brain's way of protecting you, not letting you fully realize how you felt.

You had never gotten jealous or upset when Lando had gotten into relationships and it was because he still treated you like his number one even while seeing someone else. Looking back you had done the same in your past relationships. You remembered that the two of you had expressed vocally to each other that there must have been something wrong with them as to why they couldn't keep a partner for more than a couple months. And now you could see that you two were each others issue. Who wants to be in a relationship where the other person's heart already belongs to someone else?

How could you have been so blind? Because now the thought of 'i'm in love with my best friend' truly did cross your mind.

As you finally came back down to earth you realized you were going to have to face him as you exited the bathroom to get to the living room. The door had been open the whole time and you could hear a random sitcom playing softly on the TV. You didn't even want to look at him, afraid that one look would make you crawl in next to him. But as your feet moved from the cold tile to plush carpet your heart swelled at the sight in front of you.

Lando was already fast asleep on his side of the bed. Light snores emitting from him, his arm outstretched to your side, like he was waiting for you to climb into his arms (like you usually did). Your legs felt like cement pillars as you forced yourself out of your room. The urge to be wrapped up in his arms almost overpowering the sane part of you. You needed to be alone tonight, it was the smart thing to do. You had realized some big things about yourself and your relationship with Lando tonight and the level headed thing to do was to distance yourself until you had your head on completely straight.

That though, was easier said than done.

You were tired when you laid down on the couch, but yet almost two hours later you were still tossing and turning. Your mind being the main contributor as to why you were still up, Lando being the only thing on your mind. The uncomfortable couch didn't help either and you felt sorry for any your friends who had previously crashed on it. You tried to distract yourself, but scrolling on TikTok ended 30 minutes ago and you could only play so much Monopoly Go before you ran out of dice. A loud sigh escaped past your lips as the time on your phone read 3:00. If you would have just slept in your own bed you would have been in a deep sleep right now. But you were determined to not give in to your desires.

Ten minutes later your willpower gave out and you were walking down the hall towards your room. You slowly turned the door handle, not wanting to wake Lando. As you quietly closed the door, you couldn't help but shake your head at the fact that you were sneaking into your own room right now. It felt funny, like you were suddenly a teenager again.

Whatever had been playing on the TV had shut off and the glow of the screen saver was the only thing illuminating the room. Lando was still sound asleep, he was on his side now, and you were thankful that his back would be to you when you climbed into bed. Tip toeing to your side you carefully slid under the covers, the feeling of being in your own bed immediately relaxing you.

In a matter of seconds of you laying down Lando had flipped over, his arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you into him. For the first time in you think ever, you tensed at the feeling of being in his arms. It wasn't that you didn't want to be in his arms, it was that you did. It was that everything was different now. You weren't just wrapped in the embrace of your best friend. You were wrapped in the embrace of you best friend that you have unknowingly had romantic feelings towards for who knows how long.

The feeling of his thumb rubbing small circles where your shirt had slid up let you know he was awake, but you didn't instigate any conversation.

"Been waiting for ya." His sleep filled whisper tickled your neck, a shiver running down your spine.

Your hand traveled to his arm that had made its home around your waist, your hand covering his in a comforting way. "Sorry, didn't mean to wake you."

Lando had pulled you closer to him, if that was even possible, your back flush against his front.

This was definitely something friends didn't do.

"It's okay. I couldn't sleep that well without you, kept waking up."

His words made your heart race, how have you just now realized that this relationship was not normal? Before you never batted an eyelash when he talked to you like that, but now he had you a blushing mess in his arms.

"What do you do when I'm not with you?" Your words were barely above a whisper.

"Take Nyquil." He deadpanned.

You craned your neck to look back at him, laughter lacing your words. "You're joking?!"

The light from the TV illuminated his face enough for you to see the sleepy smile on his face. "I'm not joking. I honestly think I might have built up a tolerance for it because it didn't work last week."

"Good lord Lan." You stated as you rested your head back on the pillow. "Maybe you should try Melatonin instead. Pretty sure it would be safer."

A simple hum was all you got in response and after a few moments of silence you thought he had fallen back asleep. His hand that had been tracing small circles on your skin had stilled and you took that as a sign for you to go to sleep too. Your eyes hadn't been closed for maybe ten seconds when he whispered something that made your eyes fly open.

"Wouldn't have to take anything to go to sleep if I just had you with me all the time."

Your body slowly turned towards him, your faces inches apart. It was time to face the music and talk about what you two were. Even though you had wished to work through it a little more on your own before talking to Lando. He was clearly testing the waters with you and what a better time to talk about how you were in love with your best friend than when you're in bed with them?

Words scrambled around in your brain, a thousand ways to go about this existed, but you couldn't get your brain and mouth to communicate. The two of you laid there, drowning in eachothers eyes, until you could finally put together a sentence.

"What's going on with us?" Lando only cocked an eyebrow at you, his eyes scanning your face to figure out where you were going with this. "Lan." You were wanting a response from him, not a confused look.

"What are you talking about?"

A sigh came tumbling past your lips, he was going to make you be the one to say it. "Lando. Do you think the way we act towards each other is normal? Like what other friends act the way we do with each other? The way you've been with me tonight is especially not how friends should act. Imagine how weird it would be if it was Fewtrell next to me right now instead of you." You paused, knowing what you were going to say next was going to change everything, and once you said it there was no going back. "We are more than friends Lando."

His mouth opened to say something and then immediately shut. He never thought this day would come. He had realized that things were more than platonic between you two months ago, and they had been the most agonizing couple months. Him knowing that he was in love with you, but too scared to say anything incase you didn't feel the same was driving him crazy. So, he pressed the envelope with his actions and words, hoping you would open your eyes.

His silence was slowly eating away at you. Had you just dreamt up all this stuff about you guys being more than friends? Had you misinterpreted his actions towards you and now made yourself look like a fool? "Please don't tell me this is one sided. God did I just fuc-"

Lando's lips on yours took you by surprise and it took a minute for your brain to catch up to be able to kiss him back. His lips were soft and it was a much different (better) feeling than whenever he had kissed your forehead or any other place that wasn't your lips (which again, how was that platonic?). His hand had traveled up towards your neck, his thumb resting on your cheek as he deepened the kiss. You felt light headed, never in a million years did you think you'd be kissing your best friend like this, but god did you love it. It was slightly embarrassing how you were already craving more as he pulled away, both of you with stupid smiles on your face.

"Yeah I don't think friends do that." He stated as he tried to catch his breath.

"No friends don't do that." The smile on your face still prominent as you stared at Lando.

His hand reached out for yours, your fingers interlocking causing the already prominent butterflies in your stomach to flutter even more. The two of you found your selves staring at each other once more, your eyes getting lost in the sea that was his eyes.

"Is this where we say we love each other?" Lando's words bringing you back to reality.

It wasn't uncommon for you guys to tell each other that you loved one another. In fact the last time those words were spoken was just a couple days ago. But now those three little words meant so much more, it was different now. Everything between the two of you was different now. Even if it didn't seem like that big of a deal it was, at least to you. Your teeth found the inside of your bottom lip as you plucked up the courage to say it.

"Everything is gonna be different now." Lando furrowed his eyebrows, head cocked in a questioning manner. His silence told you to continue speaking. "What I'm trying to say is yes I love you, but now those words mean so much more. We've crossed a line and there is no going back. It's gonna be different in public now, especially with your fans, and oh god we are never gonna hear the end of it from our friends. Do you think-"

Once again Lando had interrupted your rambling by smashing his lips onto yours. The action still taking you by surprise, but your reaction time had sped up significantly since the first time. This kiss was different from the first, it was more loving, slower even. It was like he was trying to calm you, reassure you about whatever you were worried about.

As he pulled away he laid flat on his back, his arms inviting you into them. With no obligation you scooted over to him, your head resting on his chest as his arms wrapped around you. The feeling of him pressing chaste kisses to the top of your head made your eyes flutter shut, you wanted to savor this moment.

"I love you, like a lot, probably too much for my own good. And if I had to guess I would say when we've said it to each other before, deep down we knew how we really felt when we said it. So, I don't think it's any different now because how I feel about you right now is how I've felt about you the whole time. Granted it took me a little while to figure it out, but fuck Y/N. It's always been you. Always has and always will be."

You had never had someone talk about you like that and in the moment you were thankful that you weren't facing Lando or else he would see the tears welling up in your eyes.

"And everyone already thinks we are together, and my fans like you, but if you're worried about going public we don't have to, not until you're ready. I mean hell we can continue to act the way we usually do, but I'll just have to keep my lips off of you, which may be more difficult than I thought." A grin was plastered on his face as he peppered kisses all over your shoulder, giggles erupting from you at his actions.

"I know your fans like me, but to them I'm still just your best friend, I'm not with you. There is a big difference Lando. Also, it wouldn't hurt to keep it from our friends for awhile, maybe just a month or two. Do you really want to hear Max go on and on about how he was right? It will never end. We've deprived ourselves of each other for years. I just want to enjoy us, without everyone else putting their nose where it shouldn't belong.

"Alright then it's decdided."

You lifted your head from his chest. Leaning up towards him you pressed your lips against his. "I love you."

Lando returned the favor, your lips together once again. "I love you too."

Your head rested back on Lando's chest, his arms wrapped around you once more. A moment you could get used to having, the feeling of his lips though something you don't think you'll ever get used to.

"And you're right. I know Fewtrell has bets placed on us, we'd never hear the end of it." Lando's chest vibrated with laughter, and when he laughed so did you. And in that moment there was no better feeling than being in the arms of the man you loved, laughing.

So, from that moment on the two of you kept your relationship hidden. You still acted like before (two best friends who were basically together because they were secretly in love with one another). But kept your intimate moments behind closed doors.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Over the course of your relationship there were a couple times where you guys almost exposed the two of you. The first time was two months in, when a jealous Lando almost spilled the beans.

It was a race week, the Australian GP to be exact. It was the first race of the season that you were attending since the two of you had decided to keep your relationship a secret. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for you to be there during race weekends. Infact last season you had probably been to at least 75% of the races, so you were a well known face around the paddock and garage. But even with you being around people you knew and a familiar atmosphere, you were still slightly nervous as you walked through the paddock. This was going to be the first real test of seeing if you guys could keep your relationship under wraps. There were cameras literally every few feet, which meant no room for slip ups.

As you approached McLaren hospitality you spotted Lando outside the entrance talking to Carlos.

"Hello boys." You greeted as you approached them. Smiles beaming from both of them back at you. "Are you lost Carlos?" You joked with the Ferrari driver.

A smirk splayed across his face. "Ah just came over to see you hermosa." The Spaniard always was a flirt, especially with you. Out of the corner of your eye you could see Lando tense at Carlos shamelessly flirting with you. "When are you gonna lose the papaya and come wear red?"

Rolling your eyes you couldn't help but let out a laugh at his antics, he truly had no shame in his game. "Behave Carlos."

Y/N may have found it funny, but Lando found nothing about this situation funny. And all he could do was stand here and let his ex teammate flirt with his girlfriend.

Before he got to be tortured anymore he was being whisked away to do an interview, but unfortunately for him he still had a clear view of the two of them as he sat down to do his interview.

He could barely focus on what the guy was asking him, his gaze flickering over the guys shoulder to watch you and Carlos every chance he got. He knew whatever Carlos was telling you was not that funny, there was no reason for you to be doubled over laughing.

The interviewer clearing his throat brought Lando's attention back to him. "Sorry could you repeat the question."

"Yes. I was asking after FP3 earlier how confident are you going into qualis in a few short hours?"

Lando gave some bullshit answer, his mind and gaze already wondering back to you and Carlos. His jealousy really starting to peak when Carlos put his hand on your arm as you laughed again at something he said. Lando knew you were just being friendly with Carlos and if anything his jealousy was just from the fact that he couldn't go out there and tell Carlos to fuck off and leave you alone. But when he saw Carlos' hands linger longer than they should have after a hug, the hints of red in his vision weren't from the Ferrari drivers fireproofs. God, how was he going to survive not letting every person in this place that you were his? The interview was thankfully a short one, which may have been due to his inability to focus.

He was handing off the microphone and out of the chair before they had probably stopped recording the interview. He could still see Carlos leaning against the railing outside, but you were long gone.

"Where'd Y/N go?" Lando inquired.

"Said she forgot her sunglasses in the garage earlier."

A simple nod came from Lando as he now joined Carlos in leaning against the railing. Silence had lulled between the two drivers and Lando was thankful that Carlos hadn't brought up Y/N, but seconds later he knew he had spoke too soon.

"You think she's into me?"

Lando nearly choked on his spit at the Spaniard's question. The bluntness of it took him by surprise, but the fact that Carlos really thought he had a chance with Y/N had Lando somewhat amused.

"I don't think so." Lando tried to use a normal voice, if he even knew what that was.

Carlos pushed himself off the railing. His whole body turning to face Lando, who maintained his gaze ahead, not wanting to look over at Sainz. "How do you know she's not?" What was Lando supposed to say? She's not into you because she's in love with me? He had froze up, allowing for Carlos to speak freely. "What are you in love with her or something? Not wanting to let me worm my way in?"

Lando's heartbeat quickened at the mention of him being in love with you. He racked his brain with how he could steer this conversation away from the two of you being together.

"No. She's got a boyfriend." Simple and effective he thought.

Lando still hadn't made eye contact with Carlos, but out of the corner of his eye he could see a smirk on Carlos' face. "Oh yeah who is it?"

So perhaps that wasn't the direction to steer the conversation. "I don't know."

"You're telling me your're her best friend and you don't know who she's dating?" What the hell did Lando get himself into? He had a way of always digging himself into a deeper hole when he talked, and in a situation like this he was really trying to chose his words carefully. But unfortunately for Lando, Carlos took his silence as an answer. "Well I'm taking that as you couldn't think of anyone to say. So when I ask her to dinner tonight, what would she like better? Italian? Chinese? Oh we are in Australia so what about some seafood? Sushi maybe?"

The two drivers now stood face to face as Lando's jealousy turned into irritation. "You're getting your hopes up Carlos. I told you she has a boyfriend."

"Until I have a name I don't believe you."

Lando knew he could just blurt out a random mechanics name from the team and that would pacify Carlos, but his smugness about the whole thing was just rubbing Lando the wrong way. Lando wanted to throw it in Carlos' face that you were his. Not some random guy or any other driver or mechanic's, you were his girlfriend. He knew you would be pissed about him blabbing to Carlos, exposing your relationship. In fact he would be breaking the promise that he made to you, but his judgment was clouded. And like always Lando's mouth worked faster than his brain.

"She's dating-"

"Sorry who's dating who?" Your eyes wide and heart racing as you approached the two drivers once more. You prayed Lando wasn't about ready to say what you thought he was as you stared him down.

Lando's cheeks turned scarlet as he stumbled over his words. He was thankful you showed up when you did to save him from making the mistake, but he also knew you weren't going to be happy.

"We were just talking about who you were dating." Carlos finally spoke up after watching Lando choke on every attempt at talking.

Your eyebrows raised in a fake suprisment at Lando, sarcasm dripping on every word you spoke. "Oh really?! I didn't know my love life was such a public topic? Who am I dating?"

Lando's eyes flashed back and forth between you and Carlos and as you stood there staring back at him he was already trying to telepathically apologize to you.

"He wouldn't say." Carlos stated as he glanced between Lando and you. The atmosphere was tense and he suddenly felt like he was in the middle of something he shouldn't be. He could find you later to talk, but right now he was trying to figure out how to excuse himself. "I think I'm late to an interview. I'll see you guys later."

As soon as Carlos was out of earshot you spoke, your tone hushed. "You better have a good explanation."

Lando glanced around, there were way too many people around for you two to be having this conversation here. Hell he probably shouldn't have even been talking to Carlos about you here earlier. If he would have told Carlos about the two of you, ten other people probably would have heard too. Grabbing your hand he led you through hospitality doors, down a small hallway, and then suddenly you were in what looked to be a storage room. McLaren merch was strewn about and various snacks and drinks lined the counters.

As you heard the lock on the door click you turned to see Lando leaning against it. No words were exchanged, you only raised your eyebrows at him, indicating for him to explain himself.

Lando pushed himself off the door, his hands reaching out for you to hold. When you only gave him a blank expression, he wiggled his fingers, emphasizing his want.

"Baby." The slight smile on his face didn't match the whiny questioning tone of his voice. Rolling your eyes at his dramatics you placed your hands in his, fingers intertwining as he pulled you closer to him. "I'm sorry. I let my jealousy get the better of me. I couldn't stand looking at Carlos shamelessly flirt with you. Then once you left he was talking to me about asking you out and he just wouldn't let up. It was driving me crazy, I just wanted to tell him to fuck off, that you were mine. And clearly I almost did until you walked up."

His eyes scanned your face for any indication that you weren't completely pissed off at him, but to his surprise your lips were on his. It was a quick kiss, his brain barely comprehending it was happening before you were pulling away, only making him desperate for more.

"I'm not mad, it just took me by surprise when I walked up and that was coming out of your mouth. I also knew he was flirting with me, why do you think I finally left? I could only play nice for so long, so I made up the excuse of me leaving my sunglasses in the garage." You paused, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. A small smile washed across Lando's face as he leaned into your touch. "Just please from now try and keep your jealousy in check? I've liked these past couple months with just us two, not us two and millions of other people. Plus, you have nothing to be jealous about. I love you. Not Carlos or Charles or-"

Lando's eyes widened. "Wait how many other drivers have been flirting with you?"

"It's not important. All I was trying to say is that I love you and only you!"

Lando scoffed, his hands grabbing at your waist, pulling you flush against him. "I love you too baby, but I'm gonna have to hide you or something. I don't think my heart can take seeing all these guys fawn over you."

Your hand reached up to his hair, your fingers running through his mop of curls. While his hands were placed firmly on your hips, his fingers toying with the fabric of your shirt. "You'll survive pretty boy."

"Oh so you think I'm pretty?" Lando teased as he leaned in to satisfy his desire to taste your lips after the tease of a kiss moments ago.

"Yes, but you're my pretty boy."

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The second time your relationship was almost exposed was entirely your fault. Getting wasted + missing your boyfriend = blabbing to your friends.

To say perhaps you had been neglecting your friends since being with Lando was an understatement. Always denying their invites out because you were either working, going to a race, or saying you were working when really you were with Lando.

You had been trying to make plans for over a month with your friends, but it never seemed like anyone's schedule lined up, until this weekend. It was an off week for Lando and he had suggested that your friends and you have a girls weekend in Monaco, even saying you guys could stay at his apartment. Though, to you, a hotel sounded safer. You had way too much of your stuff at his place for it to seem like anything platonic.

So, here you guys were, getting ready in a hotel not even ten minutes away from Lando's apartment. Music playing in the background as you rummaged through your suitcase for the perfect outfit for tonight. Laughter erupting from everyone as you recalled funny memories from past nights out. It felt good to be with them again, you had missed this, missed them.

Work had been absolutely draining you these past couple weeks, deadlines and unread emails haunted your dreams. You had even been so busy that you had to miss Lando's race last week. It had been almost two weeks since you had even seen him. Facetime being your main form of communication as of recently. But tonight wasn't about Lando, it was about going out and having a good time with your friends. Although, someone should have told drunk you that.

You're all piling into an Uber before you know it, skirts and dresses slightly too short, but no one cared because that's the fun of it all. The conversation consists of who's going to get the most drunk and from the pregaming that took place back at the hotel it could be anyone. It then shifts to who might go home with someone tonight and of course because you've been 'single' the longest everyone says you need to be the one to. And of course you play along saying "Honestly I need to. It's been awhile since I've gotten any action."

Which wasn't a lie, you hadn't seen Lando in two weeks. Your work being primarily based in London and him being in another country for almost a week. Then this weekend being a girls weekend had provided less than enough time for you guys to even talk on the phone, let alone fool around.

"Well we are in Monaco. Let's pray our girl bags a hot millionaire." Your friend stated.

Already accomplished that.

The bass from the music rattles in your chest as you walk through the club with your friends in tow. The bar is of course the first stop, you open a tab and tell the girls to get what they want. You decide on a rum and coke, you weren't planning on going absolutely crazy tonight, but a couple of these plus the pregaming at the hotel would have you feeling happy tonight.

"Let's dance!" One of your friends shouts as she's already heading into the swarm of bodies.

You swayed your body to the beat, it felt good to finally let loose and have some fun. Your eyes closed as you got lost in the music, warmness radiating through you from the alcohol in your veins, but also the other dancing bodies around you.

As the night progressed so had your alcohol consumption. You honestly weren't planning on going this hard, but everything was just going down so smoothly and you were having such a good time. But you knew as your friend brought over everyone a double round of tequila shots you were done for. You were a big girl and you could have said no, but you were already so inebriated at that point the idea of saying no never crossed your mind. Only I'm gonna regret this in the morning as you said bottoms up.

Before you knew it you were wasted and as your friends tried to rally you so you all could leave you were proving to be a little more than difficult. It didn't help that your friends, although not as gone as you, were also clearly drunk. They had somehow managed to get you outside amidst your protests that the 'night was still young', at two in the morning.

You were trying to stand upright as you waited for your friend to get an Uber, but apparently to you the pavement looked more comfortable and down you went. Your knees and arms were scraped up, but you didn't feel anything, at all. You were practically floating at this point, one more shot and you would have been at black out level.

"Ok. Just sit on the curb. It's gonna be a minute for the Uber." Your least drunk friend said as she clamped a hand on your shoulder, preventing you from getting back up.

"Ugh. Just call my boyfriend he can come get us." In your drunken state you hadn't realized what you had said.

"Your boyfriend!? Who's your boyfriend?" You had the attention of all your friends now.

Pulling your phone out of your clutch you thanked the Apple Gods for face id because there was no way you could have put in your passcode. Getting to your recent calls was easier said than done and at one point you had accidently called your Mom. "Oops. Sorry Mom." You giggled. Your fingers and brain weren't working in sync so you resorted to Siri, which was not a good idea either.

"Siri call Lando."

Your friends necks nearly broke from how fast they turned them towards your phone.

"Sorry I didn't get that." Siri chimed off

"Siri call Lando Norris."

Failed.

"Siri call Laaanndoooo."

Failed again.

"Siri-"

"Ok enough. I'll just call him. Uber cancelled on me anyways." Your friend stated as she held her phone up to her ear. "Hey Lando. It's Y/F/N. Yeah sorry for calling so late. No everything's ok it's just that our Uber cancelled and Y/N mentioned something about you being able to come get us? If not it's fine- Oh ok great thanks. We are at the club with the big neon sign on the front. Yeah ok see you in a couple minutes."

"Who was that?" You asked as your friend hung up the phone.

She sat down next you on the curb, her arm wrapping around your shoulders, your head leaning to rest on her shoulder. "Lando. He's coming to get us."

Your eyes widened as your head perked up at the mention of his name. "Oh good. I've missed him!"

Your friends all exchanged questioning glances. Not sure if Lando was the boyfriend you had mentioned, if you were so drunk that you thought Lando was your boyfriend, or if they were so drunk that they had misinterpreted what you were saying. They all had always said that you two had to be together, that you had to have feelings for him, but in this drunken instance they weren't sure what to believe. The saying drunk words are sober thoughts worked in this situation, but they too were drunk, so who was the wiser?

As Lando pulled up to the club he could see you sitting on the curb with your friend, your other friends hovering behind you. Putting the car in park he got out and made his way across the street to you. He wasn't sure what state you were in, but from the scrapes on your knees, glossy eyes, and overly enthusiastic yelling when he approached he knew you weren't just tipsy.

"Lan!" You yelled when you saw him crossing the street. You tried to get up, but your legs gave out. Luckily for you Lando's arms were wrapped around you before you hit the pavement again. "Careful. Think you might've went a little too hard tonight huh?" His cologne invaded your senses, combine that with the hoodie and sweats he had on and all you wanted to do was be in his arms tonight. "Hi guys." He greeted your friends, who were all taking in the scene in front of them. It wasn't an uncommon occurrence for Lando and you to be close like this, but after what came tumbling out of your mouth earlier they were second guessing everything. "Come on let's get you guys back to the hotel."

Lando had to help you into the car and then buckle you in while your friends piled in the back seat. "I don't wanna go to the hotel I wanna go to yours." A pout planted firmly on your face.

Ignoring your plea Lando closed the passenger side door and walked back to the drivers side. The car wasn't even a couple minutes from the club and you had passed out, small snores coming from you.

"Are you guys together?" Your friend's question made Lando's heart skip a beat. His eyes flickered up to the rearview mirror, your friends eyes staring back at him made his heart race even more.

"No. Why?" He prayed his tone was normal and not one of a man keeping said relationship a secret.

"She pretty much said you were her boyfriend."

Fuck. He knew she was drunk, but not that drunk to blab about their relationship. He racked his brain on how to spin this around.

"Unfortunately I'm not." Maybe admitting to her friends that he wanted to be with her, but wasn't, might work?

"What do you mean unfortunately you're not? Is this you finally admitting to what we have all known already?" Another friend asked.

Lando glanced over to you in the passenger seat. Your head leaning against the window, hair frizzy, the smell of tequila radiating off of you. Even in your drunken mess he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world. "Maybe. I'm just afraid I can't give her what she needs." His eyes flickered back to the rearview mirror, questioning looks stared back at him, encouraging him to continue. "I can't always be there 24/7 like a normal boyfriend. Yeah she can travel with me, but she has a life and a job too. I wouldn't want her to lose that aspect of herself just to be with me. I wouldn't want her to think that she came second in my life, because even now right now she doesn't."

What Lando had said was true, it was a insecurity, hell even a fear that he's had for quite some time. The idea of him not being enough for you scared him. The fact that maybe one day you would grow tired of the inconsistency and leave him made him sick. He tried to be the best boyfriend he could, but some days he was so busy that he was lucky to send you a couple texts. It was hard having a career that he loved be so much of his life, something that at this point was a literal part of him. But on the other hand, you were also a part of him. He never wanted you to feel like you came second in his life, because at the end of the day racing doesn't last forever, and he wanted you to be the one that was still there after he took his last lap.

"If that's all that is holding you back from telling her how you feel then you're stupid. How long have you guys been in each other's lives? She's used to your crazy schedule and half the time she makes it work and is with you. She may deny it every time we bring it up, but she's in love with you Lando. Don't let the one person who would literally go to hell and back for you slip away because you're afraid of what might happen."

As the car stopped in front of the hotel Lando turned back to look at your friend. "Clearly you didn't drink as much as Y/N."

"I'm being serious Lando. Tell her." A serious look plastered on her face as your two other friends had started to exit the vehicle. Lando had unbuckled your seatbelt, but you were too knocked out to notice. "Just take her back to your place, it's where she wanted to go anyways. But I swear when we meet up tomorrow and you two aren't together I'm gonna strangle you Norris!"

She had joined your other friends on the sidewalk as Lando rolled down your window to talk to her. "She's completely wasted. I'm not telling her tonight."

"Well then in the morning! Either way you better do it!" Your friend hollered before they all gave him a wave goodbye and made their way into the hotel.

With a sigh Lando rolled your window back up and reached over to buckle you back in. Stirring slightly, you turned in the seat as Lando's hands brushed over you. "We're going home baby girl."

Music played softly on the radio as he drove the winding streets back to his apartment. It seemed like the act had worked on your friends. That you two were still the stubborn lovesick fools to them and not two people hiding their relationship.

By the time Lando had parked the car back at his apartment you had woke up. Something he was grateful for because (though he would never say this outloud) you were an absolute pain to wake up sober, let alone drunk.

"Come on baby, we're home." Lando stood in front of the passenger side, hands out to help you out of the car. A groan came from you as you dramatically swung your legs out, grabbing ahold of Lando's hands he helped you out the rest of the way. With his arm securely around your waist the two of you made your way to the elevator. "My knees hurt." You whined as you walked (stumbled).

"Yeah it seems that you took a nasty tumble." Lando shuffled you into the elevator, pressing the button for his floor with his free hand. You glanced down at your knees, even with your blurry vision you could see the dried blood. "Your arms too. Gonna have to wrap you in bubble wrap next time you go out."

You slowly lifted your arms as you tried to focus your vision to get a good look at them. But it was the same as your knees all you could see was blurry dried blood. "Well shit." You sighed, head falling onto Lando's shoulder.

As soon as you got into the apartment Lando was already bent down in front of you. Your hands on his shoulders as he helped you out of your heels.

"Come on we've got to get you cleaned up." His arm was back around your waist as he led you towards the bathroom. As you sat on the toilet seat lid you waited patiently for Lando to grab the first aid kit. Sleep was creeping its way back in as you sat there, your eyelids feeling heavy. You hadn't even realized you had dozed off until the feeling of a warm washcloth on your knees woke you up. As Lando gently cleaned your knees and arms you watched him. Even in your drunken state you heart couldn't help but swell at him taking care of you. Once he had cleaned and bandaged your injuries he grabbed your makeup wipes from one of the drawers. Your eyes fluttering shut as he did his best to remove your makeup, giggling as he cursed your waterproof mascara.

"Ok time to wash your face."

You had tried to get up to go to the sink, but his large hands pushed you back down. "I don't need you falling again, just stay put."

So you sat there as he applied your face wash, making sure to get the remaining remnants of your makeup off. And as he was applying your moisturizer you couldn't help but stare at him with adorning eyes. You were so utterly in love with him it made you sick. This wasn't the first time he had taken care of you like this, but this was the first time since you'd realized you loved him. And in this moment his actions just simply meant so much more to you than they ever did back then.

"I love you." You said as he rubbed in the last little bit of moisturizer.

His eyes met yours as he looked down at you, his hands cupping your cheeks as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. "Love you too baby."

He helps you brush your teeth and then seconds later you're crawling into bed. "Nope. I love you, but you are not cuddling up to me tonight in that scratchy dress." He throws some of your pajamas at you as a groan came from you. "Come on dress off."

"Jeez at least take me out to dinner first Norris." You joked as you slowly got off the bed. A smirk toyed at his lips as he rolled his eyes at you. "Are you gonna unzip it for me or?" Lando wasted no time, his fingers pulling the tiny zipper down. As the fabric fell to the ground he placed a chaste kiss on your shoulder, a sign of affection rather than sexual desire.

Thankfully you were able to dress yourself as you were slowly sobering up. Climbing back into bed you were greeted with Lando who had already took his hoodie off and was waiting for you to crawl into his arms, an offer you gladly took.

"I've missed you. I've missed this." You stated as you got settled into his embrace.

A kiss was placed on your temple. "Me too."

You were asleep within minutes, Lando not long after. But when you awoke the next morning with a hangover from hell some things that had slipped your mind came to light as the sun rose. Like the fact that you were out with your friends last night, but had somehow ended up at Lando's.

When Lando woke up he explained everything to you, about how you blabbed and how he hopefully convinced them that you weren't together. That he was just a lovesick fool who wanted to be with you. "They are gonna be expecting us to be together or at least expect me to have confessed my love when we go to lunch later." He was leaned against the headboard, your head in his lap as he ran his fingers through your hair.

"Do you think they even remember?" You asked.

"They weren't as drunk as you, so most definitely."

You lifted your head up to look at him. "Well, just because they are expecting it doesn't mean it has to happen."

So when you guys went to lunch your friends heads perked up when they saw the two of you, hopeful glances shared between them.

"So any news to share from last night or recently?" One of your friends asks as you're browsing the menu. Thankfully the menu covered your face at the moment, because you were trying so hard not to laugh at her question.

You played along though, acting like it was a regular conversation starter. "If you consider me deciding to never go out again after last night news then sure. I've got a hangover from hell."

You weren't even looking, but you could sense your friends eyes darting towards Lando, and a slight jostle from under the table was undoubtedly one of your friends kicking Lando.

"Although, it's still considered brunch hours, maybe I'll get a mimosa. Always heard nothing like getting over a hangover by drinking more." Acting like the tension between Lando and your friends was nonexistent you continued talking. "What are you guys thinking? The turkey club sounds good."

Lando on the other hand was fighting for his life. Between the stares and his now sore shin, he was wishing he would have never came. His phone vibrated on the table and as he picked it up it was a text from one of your friends and it only said one word.

y/f/n: chicken!!!!

At least his cover up worked last night, now hopefully they could just make it through this lunch.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The third time, technically you both were to blame, but you both blamed each other.

The unrelenting sun beat down on Lando as he climbed out of the car after probably the worst FP3 of his career. Granted it was only a practice run, but if this was how the car was going to perform in the actual race then he was done for. Not to mention this was his home race, which any driver wants to perform well in. There was a heatwave at Silverstone this weekend, one of the contributing factors in his shit practice run. The others; absolutely no grip on the tires, sweltering temperatures in the cockpit, and the fact that he couldn't stop thinking about you. Specifically how you looked in the garage before he went out for FP3.

From the get-go this morning when you put on that papaya (let's be real it was orange) tank top that cupped your breasts just right he knew today was going to be a long day. Then when he saw you in the garage the only thing he could think about was taking you back to his drivers room and fucking you till you couldn't walk. The slight sheen of sweat on your skin from the boiling sun gave you a glowing look, that goddamn tank top, and your hair tied up in a ponytail had basically given him a semi. But it was something he could mark off his "insane things to happen while in a race car" list.

1. have a hard on while driving.

As he walked into the garage he was thankful his race suit was slightly baggy in the groin area. When his race engineer started to go over data and possible strategy everything went in one ear and out the other, his mind preoccupied with only down right nasty thoughts about you. His grip on the table that he leaned on getting tighter with each passing moment. He didn't dare glance in your direction, afraid that his slight issue would turn into a full blown one.

You on the other hand were oblivious to how Lando was feeling at the moment. You thought the strained look on his face was from the heat and the not so great practice, not from him wanting to bend you over the first chance he could get. You hadn't even realized Lando was done talking to Will, too engrossed in your phone, until you felt Lando's grip on your arm.

His eyes were like saucers as you looked up at him. His tone was demanding yet he spoke softly to you as he didn't want anyone else to hear. "Come on."

Not one to oblige, you quickly following behind him to where you soon realized was to his drivers room. You figured he wanted to rant or just relax for a little bit before qualifying, but oh boy were you proven wrong as soon as Lando closed the door.

"You've been driving me fucking crazy all day." The almost animalistic tone of his voice went straight through you. His eyes dark as he made his way over to you, hands harshly gripping your waist. Your words were caught in your throat as you stood there, wide eyes staring back at Lando. "Oh don't act like you didn't wear that tank top on purpose. You knew the way it makes your tits look would drive me crazy."

His fingertips traced along the low neckline of your tank top, his touch causing a shiver to run up your spine. A smirk developed on his face as his fingertips traveled up the straps, your neck, and finally landing on your ponytail. His long slender fingers wrapped around it, and you knew what he was about to do, but that still didn't stop the moan that came barreling out of you when he tugged on your ponytail.

"You little slut you liked that didn't you?" Now it was your turn to smirk at him, a small laugh even escaped past your lips, which you knew would go straight through him. "You think this is funny huh? Think I should teach you a lesson."

In an instant his lips are on yours. It's messy and rushed, teeth clashing as he's guiding you towards his physio table. When the back of your legs hit the table he wastes no time in lifting you up onto it. His hands are already tugging at your tank top as he stands between your legs. You break apart just long enough to let him basically rip your shirt off and then his lips are back on yours. His hands had migrated from your hips to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples with his fingertips. The stimulation going straight to your core as he swallowed your moans.

Grabbing at his fireproofs you tried to pull him as close as possible to you. You could already feel how wet you were getting, your desire for him growing more by the minute. As he's attacking your neck you reach down and undo the button of your shorts and somehow shimmy them off while still sitting.

"That desperate for me huh? Undressing yourself?" He whispered in your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

"Only for you." You words breathy as he soothes the spot on your collarbone that will need to be covered in the morning.

Almost like a natural reflex your hips start rolling towards Lando, impatience setting in. All you want is for him to touch you and clearly he got the signal. His hand moved down to your clothed core, fingertips ghosting along it.

Whines emitting from you as you rocked your hips towards his hand. "Lan please."

"You gotta tell me what you want baby girl." His pupils blown as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him.

"I want you to fuck me with your fingers." He felt his already painfully hard cock twitch at your words. No matter how many times you guys fucked, he was always surprised at how filthy your mouth was.

And as the natural born pleaser that he was, he pushed your panties to the side and immediately ran his fingers through your drenched folds. "Fuck baby your soaked."

You leaned back on the table to give him better access and as he slipped the first two fingers in your head fell back. Your moans echoing through the room as his fingers slide in an out of you.

"You gotta be quiet." He says as he adds a third finger.

His thumb works your clit and as his fingers curl up and find that spot that makes you see stars your biting down on his shoulder to try and keep quiet. You can feel yourself getting close, that pit in your stomach growing as those long fingers of his somehow repeatedly hit your g-spot. Lando can tell your close just from the way your breathing.

"Come on baby. Gonna be a good girl and come all over my fingers?"

His words of praise only adding to the the pleasure you were feeling right now. And Lando couldn't help but let out a chuckle at your walls clenching around his fingers as he praised you. Seconds later your coming undone, moans muffled by Lando's shoulder as your orgasm washes over you. His fingers continue to work even through your orgasm, something he always did. Always teetering on the line of overstimulation with you.

But this time he doesn't eventually let up, he's got you pushed all the way back on the table with your legs wide open. His free hand has you basically pinned to the table as he's relentlessly pumping his fingers into you, thumb still circling that small bundle of nerves. Your squirming under him, legs shaking as he teases you with his hushed words.

"Awe can my baby not take it? You want me to stop?"

You can barely think straight, every nerve in your body feels like it's on fire. The sound of his fingers in your wet cunt is borderline sinful. He's got a devilish grin on his face as he starts to slow his fingers, and you remember you didn't answer his question. The pitiful 'don't stop' that you're able get out is sufficient enough for Lando and he goes back to that same toe curling pace.

Lando knows your coming before you do, he knows your body like the back of his hand. The way your walls clench around his fingers and how your breathing gets rigid tells him you're on the edge. With one final curl of his fingers your back is arching as your hands grip the sides of the table. You were sure that you were speaking in tongues, the pleasure so intense you don't even realize how loud your being until Lando's got his hand clamped over your mouth. Eyes wide as he's shushing you, but he's removed his fingers from your cunt and decided to solely focus on your clit, and you think you might die if he tries to give you three orgasms back to back like that.

Lando can feel his cock throbbing in his race suit as he looks at how wrecked he's got you with just his fingers. He knows he can give you another orgasm without even using his cock, he knows you can take it, but his desire to be buried so deep into your pussy that you can feel him in your stomach overrides his pleaser mentality.

He lets you squirm for a few more moments before taking his hand away. His fingers immediately entering his mouth as he licks them clean. You watch him through hooded eyes, chest heaving as you’re trying to come down from your back to back orgasms. The desire for his mouth to be attached to your throbbing clit growing as you watch him. You knew you were being greedy, but you also knew he’d do it if you asked him. The man loved nothing more than being between your thighs. Always thinking that if he died while eating your pussy at least he’d die doing something he loved. And you thought you’d be getting your wish until he’s tugging his race suit down the rest of the way, fireproofs following after.

His cock slaps against his stomach as soon as it's free and you truly don't think you'll ever get used to just how thick it is. Your pussy already fluttering at the thought of him stretching you out. His hands are grabbing at your ankles, pulling you towards the edge of the table. And you don't realize just how much of a mess you had made on it until your ass is basically gliding over the table. Your lips collide for a brief moment as you resume your previous position of sitting on the edge of the table. His tongue exploring your mouth as your hand reaches down to his cock. The simple action of your thumb running over his tip had him moaning into your mouth, his hips bucking towards your hand.

In one swift motion he's got you bent over the table and you're practically dripping with anticipation. Lando's got one hand gripping your waist and his painfully hard cock in the other. The small moan that you let out just by him rubbing his tip between your folds is like music to his ears. Usually he would tease you, but he'd been thinking about this exact moment all damn day, he wasn't going to waste any time teasing. You're both trying to be quiet, but the feeling of just him pushing the tip in has both of you gasping. The feeling of him stretching you out is one of your favorite things in the world. How you can feel every inch of him, feel the vein on the underneath side of his cock, the slight curve in it that always hits your g-spot, it was like a drug that you couldn't get enough of.

By the time he's bottomed out and gotten you nice and accustomed to him he's ready to be absolutely feral. He leans down to your ear, his hands roaming your body as he speaks. "You gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna take my cock like the good little slut you are?" All you can do is whimper in response, but that's all he needs to hear. His large hands are on your waist in an instant and he slowly starts to build up his pace.

He can't help but be mesmerized by how your pussy engulfs his cock as he fucks you. He gets lost in it, his brain (and cock) pussy drunk, and soon enough he's ramming into you so hard that the table is hitting the wall. You're trying so hard to stifle your moans, but he's fucking you like he hates you and you can't get enough of it. You're sure someone has heard you, and if not with your moans then they've got to hear the physio table banging against the wall. And you know this is the moment that is gonna expose your relationship, but you don't even care because he's fucking you so good right now.

When Lando reaches up and grabs your now very messy ponytail and yanks on it at the same time as him hitting your g-spot you couldn't even try to hold in your moan. That in turn got a reaction out of Lando. "You've gotta be quiet pretty girl. You don't want someone to walk in now do you?" He's still got ahold of your ponytail and he lifts your head slightly as he speaks to you. "But I bet you'd probably like that huh? You'd like for everyone to hear how good I'm making you feel. How you're taking my cock so well. Bet you'd even like if someone walked in on us wouldn't you my little slut?" His words made your walls clench around him, which earned a 'fuck' from him.

That familiar feeling in your stomach had started to appear and after the two orgasms earlier you knew you couldn't hold it off for very long. If it wasn't for the table beneath you, your legs would have given out a long time ago.

"Lan I'm close." You were barely able to get that out. You were so fucked out you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone speak.

Lando was close himself, his pace slightly faltering. "I know baby. I'm almost there."

Your toes are curling as your trying to hold it together, but you're beyond overstimulated at this point, it doesn't help that he's reached down and started to rub circles on your clit. Your brain is practically scrambled, the pleasure becoming almost painful, tears start to form in your eyes.

"Lan-" Is all you can squeak out before your third orgasm for the night comes washing over you. Your body damn near convulses on the table as your vision goes white. Lando has to put an arm under you to keep you up right, your body so overstimulated it had given out.

"Oh my god!" You couldn't keep it together, because yet again he was fucking you through your orgasm.

You don't even hear the knock on the door or the person on the other side speak until you hear Lando shout. "I'm fine mate!"

"You sick fuck I know what you're doing!"

A familiar Australian accent filled your ears.

"Go away Oscar." Lando yells as he's still pounding into you, tears steadily streaming down your cheeks.

"I'm looking for Y/N. Have you seen her? She has my sunglasses."

Fuck. You had forgotten about him asking you to hold onto them. And if you remembered correctly you had them on your shirt, the same shirt that Lando practically ripped off of you. You both glanced down at the floor to see Oscar's sunglasses next to your shirt. Oops.

"She's probably in hospitality. Now leave."

You don't know if Oscar responded or if he had even left because the feeling of Lando finally coming undone had spurred on your fourth and final orgasm. Silent screams came from you, your throat raw, your body exhausted. You had never experienced this much pleasure in your life. If you had to describe it in one word you would have to say euphoric.

Lando's hips had finally came to a stop, sweat dripping off him as he tried to catch his breath. If he said this was the best sex of his life he would not be lying. You were both so fucked out, you much more than him, the idea of the fast approaching qualifying on neither of your minds. He stayed inside you for quite some time as his hands caressed your body, especially the spots that he know would be bruised in the morning. Sweet nothings were whispered in your ear, he knew this was a lot for you, but he was so proud of you for taking it so well and he wanted you to know that.

When he finally pulled out the sight of his cum dripping out of you was damn near pornographic. A image that would definitely be apart of his future wet dreams, but when he heard a whimper come from you he was brought back to reality. "I know baby. I'm right here." He's got you in his arms in an instant and a gentle kiss pressed to your lips.

He's got you both cleaned up as best as he can and got you wrapped back up in his arms as quickly as he can. He thinks maybe he shouldn't have gone this hard here, should have done this at home where he could have ran you a bath or something more loving, but his worries dissipate when you speak up.

"There is no way Oscar didn't know I was in here. So I guess if this is how we let everyone know about us. At least it was enjoyable."

Lando laughs a little at her optimism. "We've always somehow made it through our mishaps unscathed. So I'm sure we will this time."

And somehow by what you two would consider a miracle you do. Oscar never mentions anything to the two of you about that day and neither does anyone else. In all reality you knew Oscar probably knew and everyone else in a mile radius, but they just kept it to themselves. Probably figuring it was too awkward to bring up, but whatever the reason you were thankful and somehow incredibly lucky.

But from that day forward you couldn't step foot in Lando's driver room without thinking of the events that took place on that hot July day at Silverstone.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

By the time summer break had arrived the both of you were very much surprised that your relationship was still private. Looking back at all your mishaps and slips of the tongue, it was a miracle the whole world didn't know by now. The two of you had recently discussed the idea of launching your relationship, but you were honestly content with how things had been.

So, you decided to let it happen organically. You guys would continue to have a private relationship, but if there was a slip of the tongue you two wouldn't try to back peddle and save your asses. The both of you agreeing that it was going to happen sooner or later, so it was better to just accept what the universe had wanted to happen so many times before. Although, you just didn't think that it was going to happen the way it did.

How would an F1 driver spend a Friday night while on his summer break? Going out? On vacation? Going out while on vacation? All wrong if you are Lando Norris.

On a beautiful Friday night in August you were sat between Lando and Max on a stream, reading through the chat as they talked about something undoubtedly dumb.

One comment caught your eye, you laughed as you read it aloud. "When I show up to a yapping contest but Lando and Max are my opponents."

Their conversation halted, both of them faking offence. "Don't let Y/N fool you guys. She's the biggest yapper out of us three." Lando stated.

"I am not!"

All three of you now in a yapping contest, each person trying to defend themselves. A moment that will surely be clipped and used as a reaction video on Twitter before the stream is over.

Though the conversation quickly moved on as you guys tried to decide what to do. Max had promised it wouldn't just be a sit and chat stream, yet that is all you guys had done for the past thirty minutes. "Ok chat, let us know what you want us to do. We are at your mercy on this Friday night." You stated, eyes scanning the screen as people's ideas started to pour in.

user1: play f124!

user2: cinnamon challenge lmao

That one caught your eye, laughter lacing your words. "Cinnamon challenge? What is this 2012?"

user3: take funny quizzes

user4: mukbang!!!!

user5: yes mukbang!! we need a repeat of the famous 2022 mukbang stream.

You chuckled at the mention of the previous mukbang the three of you did. It was one of Max's most viewed streams, which you never understood why. All you guys did was stuff your face and attempt some very bad ASMR. But people still used clips from it to this day on Twitter. Nonetheless, you were always down for a good feast, your mind already running through what you should get.

Raising your eyebrows you glanced back and forth between Max and Lando. "Mukbang?"

Lando and Max's eyes lit up at your propsition. "Let's do it."

"Ok chat. Mukbang 2024 will commence shortly." You stated as Max pulled out his phone to see what sounded good. You leaned over to look as he scrolled through the options. When your favorite Sushi place popped up he immediately stopped scrolling, your eyes meeting in a knowing glance. No words were spoken as you both shook your heads yes. You both knew Lando would be pissed, but you didn't care. You hadn't had it in so long, your mouth was practically watering at the thought of it.

"Ok. We are getting sushi." You didn't even look in Lando's direction as you spoke, you could just imagine the disgusted look on his face.

"Ugh. No!" His complaint fell on deaf ears as Max and you were already placing your order. "Guys please why don't we do pizza or something?"

"Two against one mate. You want your usual spring rolls?" Max glanced up from his phone, eyebrow raised in question towards Lando.

And like a child Lando leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed and a pout on his face. "I guess." No matter how hard he tried to like fish, he just couldn't stomach it. In fact, he had tried it multiple times since you had been in his life, thinking if the women he loved liked fish then maybe he could learn to like it. But each time he was running for the toilet seconds later.

"Should be a good stream guys, it'll just be Lando freaking out the whole time." You teased, gently nudging his side with your elbow. An eye roll was all you got from him. "Oh come on you know I love you."

You could see the downturned corners of his mouth start to slowly turn upward as he tried to fight the smile that was wanting to break free. A slight blush had formed on his cheeks as the smile you loved so dearly spread across his face. You two, even before getting together, always told one another you loved them. So it was truly no big deal, you had done it in public, it wasn't a foreign concept. But for some reason the chat was going ballistic over it tonight.

user1: "friends" my ass

user2: try not to smile like an idiot when your "best friend" tells you they love you challenge. level impossible for lando

user3: i too would be a smiling blushing mess if Y/N told me she loved me

user4: max is third wheeling tonight i see.

You just laughed and shook your head. At least people were being nice and it seemed like they liked the idea of the two of you being together.

While you waited for the food to arrive you three answered some questions and chatted about random things, even recalling some funny memories between the three of you. Just as you were in the middle of a funny story that involved Lando and two birds there was a knock on the door.

Seconds later there was an array of takeout containers in front of you, mouth watering as you wasted no time in digging in. Lando on the other hand sat there with his spring rolls, trying to ignore the pieces of raw fish that were inches away from him.

"You wanna try? I got a California roll for you just incase you were feeling adventurous." You asked Lando, a piece tucked between your chopsticks as you held it up towards him. Furiously shaking his head no, he stuffed his mouth with a bite of spring roll. "It's like a starter roll for sushi newbies, can't even tell that there is crab in it. I promise."

"I can tell believe me. Remember when you had me try crab rangoons?" Yes, you did remember it because he was gagging after the first bite.

"Fine. More for me and Max." You popped the piece of sushi into your mouth, accepting that he was never going to like seafood or anything seafood adjacent.

As Lando watched you eat a piece that had a huge thing of raw fish on top his face twisted in disgust. At the same time you glanced over at him, wanting to ask him how his spring rolls were. But the words that came out of his mouth first erased any thought about spring rolls.

"Just so you know I am not kissing you for at least 24 hours."

Lando hadn't even realized he had said that out loud until Max started choking on his piece of sushi. The realization of what he had just said and what he had just done came washing over him. His cheeks turning crimson as he made eye contact with your wide eyes, the same crimson color painted across your cheeks.

"I'm sorry. Why would you be kissing Y/N?" Max's cheeks were red too, but his was from choking, not exposing his relationship on stream.

Lando and you having not broken eye contact simply shrugged at one another, remembering your conversation about no back peddling, no trying to save your asses anymore. So if the universe wanted your relationship to be public over Lando being grossed out over sushi, then so be it.

The both of you looked over at Max, sheepish grins plastered across your faces. "Surprise!" You said meekly.

Max's eyes flickered back and forth between his two friends, trying to figure out if this was some prank or if what he had suspected for years had finally come true. Lando's hand reaching out for yours under the table caught his gaze and in that moment Max knew it was true. "I knew it! I fucking knew it! Finally, I mean I was about ready to set you two down and force you to be together." Max had jumped up from his seat, excitement overtaking him. "How long?"

"Around seven months." Lando mumbled.

Max's eyes widened a shocked look on his face. "You've kept it from everyone for seven months?"

Lando muted the stream as you and him explained everything to Max, still wanting to keep some things private. Knowing surely Max's reactions to what you guys were telling him would be haunting him for years to come.

Meanwhile the chat was going insane.

user1: holy shit!!

user2: i mean are we surprised. they've been married in my head for years.

user3: 2022 mukbang found dead. 2024 mukbang you will always be famous

user4: the fact they even kept it a secret from their friends... guess that works when you've acted like you were together for years..

user5: need me a love like lando and y/n

user6: the way this is such a y/n and lando way for them to expose their relationship lmfao.

user7: wait... so this means y/n is off the market? lando norris can you fight?

You would have never thought this is how you would announce that you guys were together. But somehow it made sense for the two of you in your own weird way. One thing you did know was that the chat was right. 2024 mukbang stream will always be famous.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

"We need to talk about yesterday Lan."

"Yeah I guess we do."

You removed your head from his chest, choosing to sit up and face him. "It's just that last night was a little crazy and then," your eyes glanced over to the trail of clothes on the floor "it got even crazier when we got home. We never actually discussed how we feel about us being public now."

Lando's hands reached out for yours, fingers interlacing. "Well let me just say I'm sorry for having a brain and mouth that don't communicate sometimes. But I don't regret saying it. Like we have discussed, clearly it was meant to happen in that moment, even as unserious as it was. Yes, some things are gonna be different, people are gonna pry and feel entitled to our business, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you and honestly I'm glad I can hold your hand in public now." He pulled your smiling face closer to his, a matching grin plastered on his. "And if I feel like it, I'll kiss you in public too!"

He smashed his lips onto yours as you laughed into the kiss. His hands started to roam your body and before it could go any further you pulled away. "As long as I've got you by my side I think everything will be alright." Your hand caressed his face, his stubble tickling your hand. "I love you so much, never forget that Norris."

"I won't."

Later that day the two of you decided to both make a post on Instagram to officially announce your relationship, with the most unserious captions.

y/insta: finally got my kiss ♡ (after i brushed my teeth)

landonorris: i love you ♡ (but not your love for sushi)

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x y/n #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mine #writing #i hope you guys like this one #it was fun to write!!!

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starmocha · 4 months ago

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it was always you [Sylus/Reader ★ 10.6K words ★ Masterlist ★ Series Index ★ AO3] [part 2 of but if it’s forever, it’s even better] “A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.” A/N: I let Tumblr peer pressured me into writing a part two. ❤️ there is also an epilogue-ish part three…that I am still polishing up, so uh, give me another three weeks?????

You had always known Sylus was a man of his words. He had made it known time and time again that he would never flatter you, never betray you, and most certainly never lie to you, so when the man himself promised that he would get you pregnant, he was going to get you pregnant.

“Sylus—ah! I…I might already be preg—ah!”

You bit down into his shoulder, arms wrapped tightly around his neck, clinging to him and clenching tightly as he continued to drive into you mercilessly, showing no sign of stopping or easing until you were both finished. You cried into his shoulder, gasping and moaning needily, as he spread you more, taking you in deeper and just hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

“Ohhh…” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, unable to even remember what you were about to say.

“Can’t be too sure,” Sylus said with a wolfish grin, pleased to see you such a quivering mess beneath him, cheeks all flushed red and eyes dazed with complete lust for him. Even though he could hear you protesting feebly, your body was betraying your true feelings, easily and eagerly taking him in.

“Sylus—!”

Sylus covered your mouth with his large hand, muffling the noises, but the feel of him still relentlessly thrusting in and out of you nevertheless had you helplessly moaning into his hand, your eyes looking up at him with tears brimming in the corners.

“Careful, sweetie,” he chided, smirking, “Wouldn’t want your neighbors to know what we’re doing, right?”

You moaned into his hand again, the feeling of him pounding into you had robbed you of all other coherent thoughts or even any feeling of modesty, your only focus in this moment was on him, the way he spoke, and the lewd noises of him fucking you. You whimpered and gasped when he removed his hand, but just as quickly your sounds were swallowed by his mouth as he greedily devoured your cries. When he pulled back, a string of saliva connected the two of you. He gazed at you haughtily, completely obsessed by the dazed look you gave him.

He chuckled darkly, his hand cupped your cheek, gently caressing you. “Then again,” he murmured, eyes twinkling mischievously, “I don’t particularly care if anyone hears us.”

He kissed you again. “Going to give me an heir?” he murmured, his tone holding shades of a light tease.

You tried to glare at him, but he laughed it off. “You are insufferable,” you griped, but almost immediately after you said that, he purposefully thrusted in harder, watching with amusement when your eyes rolled to the back of your head again, your pleased moans countering your earlier annoyed tone.

“What was that, sweetie?” he teased.

“Sylus…” you whined and gripped his arm pleadingly, “I can’t take this anymore—how—oh, god—how much longer?”

His eyes darkened, taking in the sight of you shaking with pleasure beneath him. He had been pushing you to your limits, taking you whenever he could, as often as he could. His own breathing grew shakier, his thoughts wandering, his eyes glazing with desire.

Not until it’s confirmed.

Not until…you’re round and heavy with my child…

I need to keep breeding you…until you’re pregnant…

Gonna fill you up, knock you up…

Need to see you swell…make you mine…gonna fuck my child into you—

“Fuck—” The thought of you carrying his baby had him coming quicker than either of you expected, and you whined at the feeling of how full he was making you feel. It was too much, and yet, your own body wanted more, wanted to milk him until he was empty, until his seed flooded your womb completely.

“Sylus…!”

“Fuck, sweetie,” he panted, his large body hovered closely over yours, only held up by his forearms as he stared into your eyes as he emptied himself into you. He kissed you roughly, his frenzied words coming out in between sharp gasps of breath, “You’re going to look so fucking pretty with my baby in you. Won’t be able to keep my hands off of you—gonna feel you up, fuck you again and again—oh, sweetie…”

You whimpered against his kisses, his dizzying words making the blood rushed straight to your head. Your arms wrapped around his neck, clinging to him tightly as you felt his body relaxing against yours. “Sylus…I feel so…full…”

He groaned as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. You felt him nibbling on your skin, felt all of his body heat against yours as you both slowly settled down from your shared euphoria.

For the next few minutes, neither of you spoke, the only sound heard in your bedroom was the two of you steadying your breathing. Then, you heard Sylus speaking up: “Let’s rest for a bit,” he said, pulling out of you and laying facedown next to you, his arms slung protectively over your stomach. He peered at you with a weary smirk, saying, “We’ll continue again later…”

“What? Again?” You startled at his words, eyes widening in shock as you exclaimed, “We’ve already done it three times tonight!”

“Oh, sweetie, you know I have a big appetite—in more ways than one.”

He hungrily kissed you, your small face held in his large hands, his touch gentle, but his kisses were ravenous. He parted, giving you a moment to catch your breath, but his words did nothing to calm your racing heart: “And when it comes to you,” he husked, “my craving is never satisfied.”

“I can never face my neighbors again…”

“Good. You should come live with me in the N109 Zone anyway.”

“You can at least pretend to sympathize with me for one minute.”

“I wouldn’t know how. Being empathetic is not in my nature, sweetie.”

For the next few weeks, you fell into a strange routine. If you weren’t in Sylus’ bed, then he was in yours, and while you would often protest against his enthusiastic advances, eventually you would always succumb to your desires, letting him have his ways with you to his heart’s content.

With so much going on, you didn’t notice the telling signs at first.

Fatigue? Work had been hectic lately.

Nausea? There had been a bug going around the city.

Tender breasts? Perhaps you were about to have your period.

Except…that was when you realized your period never arriving. You went over the dates, checked the calendar three, four times, as you did the calculations in your head.

You were late.

Your heart sped up, hands already resting on your lower abdomen. Your nerves were in bundles, thoughts haywire.

You…might be…

Pregnant.

With Sylus’ baby.

Several pregnancy tests later, you stared at the row of pregnancy tests on your bathroom counter neatly lined up with identical results: Positive. You were pregnant.

You sat down on the edge of your bathtub, hand once again feeling your flat belly. So many thoughts ran through your mind, so many questions weighing you down. You had, more or less, planned this, but now that it was a reality—now that you were pregnant with Sylus’ baby—you felt nervous.

You couldn’t even pinpoint the reason for your anxiety. It was just a combination of so many different things, and while you could just continue to sit and mull and worry on your own, you knew you would rather go see Sylus as soon as possible. Taking a look at the late time, you decided first thing tomorrow morning, you would head over to the N109 Zone and see Sylus.

For now, you hoped a warm shower could help calm your nerves enough for you to sleep through the night.

The following morning, you woke up early to do a few chores around the apartment before heading outside for a quick walk to clear your head. You walked around the block, silently rehearsing in your head the different ways you could make your announcement. The previous night, you had ended up staying up later than intended, browsing videos and social media posts about how other people had made their pregnancy announcements. While many of them were cute, some even ingenious, you felt they didn’t seem right for you and Sylus.

As you approached your apartment building again, still lost in thoughts, you heard a caw nearby and instantly frowned, mumbling to yourself, “Oh, no…”

After a quick scan of your surroundings, your eyes caught sight of the familiar metallic wings flapping overhead before a certain mechanical crow landed on a nearby tree to perch, his eyes staring straight in your direction. You gritted your teeth in annoyance before you calmed your breathing. You slowly exhaled, forced on a sweet smile, and then called out to the mechanical crow in a sing-song voice, “Oh, Mephie~ who’s a pretty birdie?”

Mephisto gave you an indignant caw, and you feigned hurt, pouting at him. “Oh, don’t be like that, Mephie,” you cooed, “We’re besties, remember?”

Mephisto shuffled on his perch, cocking his head at you in confusion.

“And as besties,” you continued, taking off your rings to dangle in front of the crow, “We should be nice to one another, right? Help each other out, even?”

You could have sworn you saw the gleam of interest in Mephisto’s eyes when he noticed the shiny rings you were waving at him. Gotcha, you thought, pleased that your plan was working out.

“These rings,” you said, holding them out in the palm of your hand, “for your silence on this matter.”

Mephisto looked up at you confused.

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” you scolded the crow, folding your hand and gripping the rings tightly. “You are not telling Sylus about my pregnancy before me!”

You opened your hand again, holding up your bribe as offering. “Now, do we have a deal, Mephisto?”

You grinned when Mephisto eagerly and greedily seized the rings, giving you a nod before flying away with his new treasures.

You quickly headed inside to get changed. While Mephisto did seem to agree to your bribe, you still would rather head over to the N109 Zone as soon as possible to share the news with Sylus before any other mishaps could happen.

It was eight in the morning when you finally arrived at Onychinus’ base in the N109 Zone, an area constantly shrouded in darkness and where the entire concept of time felt utterly meaningless. It was also when Sylus would be asleep, seeing as his schedule and yours were polar opposite. Sylus tended to be in foul mood whenever he was woken up during his sleep, so you really should let him sleep for a bit longer. It almost didn’t seem right to wake him up so suddenly and, in according to his schedule, so early.

But then you remembered your recent bouts of morning sickness was all his fault, so you grinned and barged into his home loudly, startling Luke and Kieran who were lounging around in the dining area.

“Miss Hunter! What are you doing here so early in the morning?” Kieran rose from his seat in a chair while Luke remained seated on the table.

“Yeah, Boss is still asleep,” Luke added, “W-wait, where are you going?”

You grinned and ignored the twins who both gotten to their feet to trail after you nervously as you headed in the direction of Sylus’ bedroom.

“W-wait, Boss is going to be pissed if he’s woken up at this time!” Luke grabbed your arm to stop you, and you peered up at him with a startling sweet smile. Even with the mask covering his face, you could sense how nervous he was, whether it was because of the prospect of waking Sylus up or your frighteningly cheerful smile, you weren’t sure.

“It’s alright, you two,” you cooed, voice so saccharine it made them wonder what you were up to. You continued in a chipper voice, “He’s going to be thrilled by what I have to tell him.”

“Well,” Kieran started, scratching his head thoughtfully, “Miss Hunter does have him wrapped around her finger…”

“Right, Boss practically grovels at her feet—wait, don’t tell him I said that!”

By this point, you were already outside Sylus’ bedroom with the twins a good several feet away staring at you with mild horror. You quietly shooed them away and watched with a smile as they slunk back to the dining room while muttering among themselves. You couldn’t be bothered to care about what they could be whispering about.

You exhaled slowly, and then quietly opened the door, peering into the dark room with caution. Your eyes scanned the large bedroom, checking for any distractions, any oddities that could ruin this planned perfect moment.

“Good, Mephie is not in there,” you mumbled to yourself when you noticed the empty bird perch. You made a mental note to find something extra shiny for the mechanical bird for keeping his end of the deal. You continued your quiet surveillance, and when your eyes finally landed on the bed, you found Sylus asleep under the cover, seeing his chest rising and falling steadily.

You grinned.

As you tiptoed into the bedroom, you couldn’t help but noticed a large stray feather of Mephisto was laying on the floor. Your grin widened as you picked it up and made your way over to Sylus’ bed.

He was sound asleep.

He looked so peaceful, almost ethereal, even.

You smiled and leaned closer, using the feather to tickle his face.

Sylus stirred with an annoyed groan.

You quickly suppressed a giggle. Just as you were about to tickle his nose, Sylus opened his eyes and you startled from seeing his red irises so suddenly. Immediately, you let out a shriek when Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist and pulled you into bed with him.

“You shouldn’t have snuck in here like this, sweetie,” he chided, holding you firmly to him.

You struggled in his embrace, but Sylus simply smirked, showing no sign of letting you go any time soon. “Who provoked who first?” he questioned arrogantly, giving your thigh a light smack.

You glared up at him, exclaiming, “Is that any way to treat the woman carrying your baby?”

He paused.

He stared.

And then he spoke—voice so rough, so dry.

“A baby… A baby. Baby. …you’re pregnant. Pregnant. With my baby.”

He had unconsciously let you go, barely noticing when you knelt next to him on the bed, grinning from ear to ear. You watched with delight, seeing the normally calm and haughty crime leader having a complete brain malfunction as he attempted to process your news, his eyes darting back and forth from your face and your stomach. Several emotions flashed across Sylus’ eyes ranging from confusion to surprise to shock before finally settling on joy—absolute, complete wholehearted joy.

You gasped when he pulled you into his firm embrace again, your face pressed to his chest as you felt his hands rubbing you up and down. You whined against him and he looked down at you completely delighted. His lips instantly pressed against yours, silencing your cries.

“We’re having a baby,” he murmured again, still not quite registering the words, finding them to sound so foreign on his tongue. “My god, we’re having a baby…”

“How many times are you going to say that?” You looked at him with a pout and he just grinned at you again.

“Until you give birth.”

You instantly blushed. “What are you saying—”

He sat back, leaning against the headboard and pulling you into his lap. You watched as his large hand lay over your still-flat belly curiously. He shook his head in disbelief, huffing quietly, “A baby. There’s a baby in there…”

“Y-Yeah…” you mumbled back, still finding the whole situation surreal as well. It was your body, but even you couldn’t quite wrap your head around the fact that you were now carrying a new life inside you. Your eyes rested on your stomach. It was still so flat. How could a baby be growing in there? How could you get bigger?

You tilted your head a little, your questioning thoughts starting to drift to a new direction. You wondered when you would start showing. When would you start to feel the little kicks and movements? How big were you going to get? Were you having a boy or a girl? Would Sylus truly love you like this—

You teared up. Sylus immediately noticed and looked startled.

You started crying.

“Wh-what’s wrong? Sweetie, why are you crying? Why are you upset?”

You were immediately pulled into his embrace, his hand automatically rubbing the back of your head gently to soothe you as you cried against his chest. You heaved and sobbed against him as he mumbled comforting words, hoping they would calm you down.

“Did I do something?” he questioned softly, feeling helpless when he felt you shaking in his arms, unable to calm down or speak clearly.

You shook your head.

“Are you hurt somewhere?”

“N-no…” you mumbled feebly against his chest.

“Then why are you crying? Sweetie, talk to me…”

“I-I don’t know…”

Sylus peered down at your head and smiled gently. “I think a certain kitten is fibbing.”

“Quit it…”

“I will if she tells me why she’s crying.”

You grumbled against his chest, protesting quietly when he pulled you back to look at your reddened face and puffy eyes. He held your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away your fresh tears as he shushed you gently. You sniffed.

“I’m going to get fat…”

Sylus looked confused.

And then he laughed.

“Ah, so is that why you are crying?” He chuckled, “Sweetheart, you are not going to get fat.”

“I’m going to gain weight!”

“For our baby,” he emphasized. “The baby is going to be growing inside you.”

“You’ll stop loving me…”

Sylus immediately frowned; his earlier mirth disappeared in that instance. His eyes narrowed in anger as he spoke coldly, “What did you say?”

You clammed up, unprepared for his entire demeanor change. You let out a shaky breath when Sylus grabbed your chin, gentle but firm, and held your gaze to him. His thumb brushed over your trembling lips as he spoke, his tone leaving no room for arguments, “I won’t ever stop loving you.”

He didn’t raise his voice, but the way he said those words so evenly, so softly and resolutely, they rang loud in the large room. Your heart pounded in your chest, his icy gaze on you rendered you speechless, making you forget about your earlier insecurities. He leaned his face closer to you, his lips just a breath away from yours. “If anything,” he continued, voice dropping lower, “I’ll love you even more.”

You whimpered when he captured your lips, his sweet kiss a binding seal for his ardent words. When he parted, he pressed his forehead to yours, his voice still breathless and unyielding, “Don’t ever question my love for you again.”

Your eyes lowered, embarrassed by your earlier outburst. You nodded obediently.

The room was quiet as you and Sylus remained still, him waiting patiently for you to calm yourself. Meanwhile, you felt your cheeks reddening as you replayed the last few minutes in your mind, your embarrassment growing stronger as you realized how silly and ridiculous you were being.

“Sylus?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I’m having mood swings already…”

“No kidding…”

“What did you say?!”

“My kitten,” he answered, kissing your forehead. He lay back down in bed, pulling you on top of him gently. Your head lifted, your protests dying instantly when you caught sight of his sweet expression, eyes closed and a pleased smile on his face. Your heart instantly melted, any residual doubts lingering in your mind disappeared the moment you heard him sighing blissfully: “We’re having a baby…”

“Are you sure you don’t want to let people know Onychinus’ leader is your baby daddy?”

“I’m sure.”

“Sure-sure, or pregnancy-brain-I-might-change-my-mind-again-sure?”

“Sure-sure.”

“Positive?”

“Positive!”

“Really—”

“Sylus! Absolutely, positively, undoubtedly 100% sure!”

“Mood swing?”

“I will melt your vinyl collection.”

For the longest time, it seemed your belly continued to remain flat as a board, making even you yourself doubtful about whether or not you were truly pregnant. If it weren’t for that first ultrasound you got at your prenatal visit, you probably would have dismissed the whole thing as a false positive.

However, the moment you saw that small speck on the ultrasound photo, the moment you caught Sylus’ own surprised expression, you both knew that this was real. Your lives were changing in the most astoundingly beautiful way possible, and no matter how much you both may prep for the arrival of your bundle of joy, you knew nothing would ever be like before.

How wonderful, you thought.

One morning, early in your second trimester, you noticed a slight rounding in your middle after waking up. You cautiously touched it, startled by the feeling of the curve. You could have sworn that just eight hours earlier, you still had your flat stomach, but right now you could definitely see a distinct difference, see the way it was beginning to shape and fill out. You touched it more firmly, still unused to the surrealism of this moment.

“It’s…happening…” you muttered to yourself, still trying to come to terms with this reality. You startled again when you heard your phone ringing.

It was Sylus, wanting to video chat. You answered immediately.

“Good morning!” you greeted him.

“Morning,” he yawned back, and you realized it was probably his “night” time now. “I just wanted to check in on you before you went to work. How are you feeling?”

“Good!” you responded brightly. Possibly a little too brightly, because Sylus immediately raised a questioning brow.

“‘Good?’” he repeated, crossing his arms in confusion. “How’s your morning sickness?”

“Haven’t had any—yet,” you answered cautiously. Then you smiled brightly and adjusted the phone to show your midriff. You lifted your pajamas top excitedly, exclaiming, “But look! I’m starting to show!”

You had expected Sylus to be excited, but his expression and entire demeanor was a far cry from what you had anticipated the notorious Onychinus leader to have. He seemed upset, and you frowned, slowly pulling your top back down. “Why aren’t you excited?”

“Huh?” He didn’t seem to realize his expression was upsetting you. He sighed, and apologized immediately. “I am excited,” he clarified, though his tone suggested otherwise, “It’s just…”

“Just what?” you demanded, feeling hurt that his behavior was not like what you had expected.

“I want you here with me.”

Your face softened. “What?”

“You’re starting to show,” he continued, “and it made me realize I don’t want to miss another second of your pregnancy. I’m just…upset that I am not by your side right now, seeing your belly grow, feeling it, taking care of you…”

You could feel your cheeks warming because of his words.

“Come live with me?”

“But—”

Sylus sighed, already expecting the usual excuses: your job, your life, everything you loved was in bright, sunny Linkon City. Not the dark and dreary N109 Zone.

“But my plushies…”

Sylus blinked, confused.

“Sweetie, I have more than enough room here for your belongings.”

“My job—”

“Didn’t you say your captain was putting you on desk duty?” he interrupted you, smirking, “Surely the Hunters Association allows their employees—especially ones in their…delicate condition—the option to work remotely?”

“…”

“No more excuses?”

“Not at the moment…Give me a sec.”

Sylus chuckled. “I’ll have Luke and Kieran make arrangements for your move.”

You gawked at him. “I never said yes!”

“Not explicitly,” he agreed and then tilted his head a little, smirking, “So explain to me why your eyes shined so brightly when I made my offer?”

You slumped in bed and stared at the phone—at Sylus’ insufferable smirk.

“Sweetheart…”

“I want you next to me, too,” you confessed as you looked down at the small bump forming. You tentatively touched it. “I want you with us.”

You looked up at the phone screen just in time to see Sylus had a quick intake of breath, his eyes had widened a fraction, easily missed by those with untrained eyes. Then, he shook his head, almost as if in disbelief by what he had heard. He chuckled to himself. “Sweetheart, I’ll see you in an hour.”

You looked confused. “I thought you were going to bed now?”

“How can I sleep after hearing you say something so adorable?”

You blushed, and tried to keep your voice and expression neutral. “Go to bed,” you said as sternly as possible in spite of Sylus’ amused smirk at your transparent attempt. “I’m getting ready to go to work.”

“Call out,” he demanded.

“No—”

“Fine,” he said, interrupting you to your confusion, “I’ll just show up to your workplace at the end of your work day.”

You stared at the phone, mouth agape. You narrowed your eyes at him. “Did you just make a threat?”

He shook his head, feigning hurt. “I am merely concerned for my pregnant girlfriend.”

“No,” you repeated firmly. “Do. Not. Come. To. My. Work. Place.”

“How mean,” he cooed mockingly, “You won’t allow me to see you, you won’t let people know I fathered your baby—”

“About that—”

He looked at you suspiciously. “What?”

“People kind of know…”

“I don’t understand,” he said, frowning. He tilted his head to the side in confusion. “You said you didn’t want people to know the leader of Onychinus knocked you up.”

“Well, yes—and they still don’t know that.” You bit your bottom lip nervously, flinching a little when Sylus questioned you again impatiently. “I couldn’t just not give them a name—Tara was so excited about the news and well—”

“Well, what?”

“I said Skye fathered my baby.”

“Who’s Skye—you did what?” Sylus paused, remembering. And then he laughed. “I see, so ‘Skye’ is your baby daddy then.”

The minute Sylus started smiling, you felt an uncomfortable feeling growing in the pit of your belly. You knew it wasn’t your morning sickness making you feel queasy in that moment. The knot worsened when Sylus started chuckling. You flustered and asked, mildly annoyed, “Why are you laughing?”

“No particular reason,” he answered affably, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I can be okay with this. In fact—”

Sylus’ smile widened. “I won’t come see you after work today after all.”

You breathed out in relief, but that brief moment of serenity disappeared just as quickly the moment Sylus finished his thought:

“‘Skye’ will pick you up today after work.”

“You are absolutely insufferable.”

“See you at five, sweetheart,” Sylus responded, smirking as he ended the call and you were left staring at your bewildered reflection in the darkened phone screen.

“Well, Baby,” You started, staring down at your small bump. You gently placed a hand over it, giving it a tentative rub. “Your daddy can be an ass sometimes…”

“You actually brought your plushies.”

“You said you have room for them.”

“I do, but—”

“But what?”

“I don’t remember getting Bunbun, Artsy Birb, or Happy Snowman with you…”

“…don’t worry about them.”

Before you knew it, you began calling Onychinus’ base your home. Not a second home, not a temporary home, but home. There were days you would wake up feeling disoriented, still not quite used to the N109 Zone’s seemingly eternal darkness. There were also many mornings you would find yourself missing and yearning for the sunlight in Linkon City, but those feelings of longing disappeared the moment you felt Sylus’ arm wrapped around your waist, feeling your growing belly and hearing his soft breathing so close to you.

Your eyes fluttered opened one particular day—or, perhaps, it was night, you weren’t quite sure yet—and you felt a familiar warmth behind you. You looked down and saw a large hand covering your growing bump.

You smiled.

Your belly had grown steadily these past few weeks, becoming more and more prominent each day, and while it seemed big to you, it still looked quite small when Sylus touched it. You stared at his large hand nearly covering your entire middle, and you swallowed nervously, realizing you still had several more months of your pregnancy. Plenty of time for your baby to grow bigger.

Much bigger.

You felt nervous.

And scared.

You started to cry.

Sylus immediately woke up when he sensed the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Sweetie?” He was immediately alert, sitting up and pulling you closer to him as he examined you all over looking for anything that could be causing you discomfort or distress. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“How am I supposed to have your big babies?!”

Sylus looked floored.

“…excuse me?”

You continued crying hysterically. “How am I supposed to push out your big babies?!”

Sylus blinked, still not quite following your train of thought. He knew your hormones had been fluctuating all over the place, but even that did not prepare him for this conversation. He rubbed his forehead, half-wondering if he was still asleep and dreaming this whole ridiculous situation. He sighed when you continued to hysterically ramble:

“What was I thinking letting you knock me up with your big babies? Fuck, I wasn’t thinking—I was just a horny little slut! And now I have your big baby inside me! How am I expected to push out a baby that size? Oh, god, what if I can’t—Sylus, stop laughing at me!”

Sylus was leaning against the headboard, his whole body shaking in amusement as he watched you spiral. He chuckled when you attempted to punch his shoulder, but his quick reflex easily allowed him to grab your wrist gently before pulling you into his embrace. He hummed happily when he felt your small bump pressed against his stomach.

“Sweetheart, you are worrying over nothing…”

“Easy for you to say, you’re not gonna be pushing something out of your—"

He kissed your lips, silencing you immediately. “It will be fine,” he reassured you, “Your body was made for this.”

“…for average sized baby…not what you’ve given me…”

He quirked an eyebrow at you, half-amused, half-confused. “I might regret asking this,” he said, giving your cheek a teasing pinch to your annoyance, “but what makes you so certain the baby is going to be abnormally big?”

“Look at you!”

He shrugged, still not quite following your train of thought.

“Sylus!”

“Look,” he started while stroking your head soothingly, his voice gentle, “The doctor said you are meeting all of the expected weight gain on time. Not under, and not over.”

You continued to sulk.

“The baby is growing at a perfectly normal rate.”

“But what if—"

He sighed. “I know all of this is scary right now—” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “And I—I can’t truly fathom your anxiety. You’re scared and I wish I can make you feel better—”

You looked up curiously.

He smiled and rubbed your cheek where he had previously pinched tenderly. “I am so bad at this…”

You stared at Sylus’ helpless smile and you felt a warmth spreading in your chest. This big intimidating man with such an imposing aura, such unfathomable confidence and charisma was rendered helpless and lost by you. You felt oddly touched by this. Your smaller hands grabbed his, holding it close to your cheek and you smiled at Sylus, surprising him.

“I might have overreacted,” you admitted sheepishly, adding, “I’m feeling better now, Sylus…”

He furrowed his brows. “Are you sure?”

You nodded and kissed his palm, your hand caressing his. “I’m still nervous,” you admitted, and Sylus’ expression softened, “But…I feel safe with you…”

He smiled and gathered you into his lap, holding you securely to him. He nuzzled his cheek against your head. “I wish I could take away all of your worries,” he murmured, “but I don’t want to lie to you or make promises I can’t keep…”

He kissed you sweetly, his voice still soft and gentle, “I can only promise that I will stay by your side for as long as you’ll have me…”

His hand lowered, feeling your belly, feeling the life the two of you had made together. “As long as you’ll both have me.”

You smiled at him, eyes brimming with tears.

He wiped the corners of your eyes, tsking softly. “Now,” he continued, his tone lightening, “Any other worries I need to quell tonight?”

You stilled, looking deep in thought. Sylus was only teasing, but he grew concerned when you seemed to ponder his inquiry seriously. He tilted your chin up, your gaze meeting his. He asked, “What is it?”

“Do…do you think I’m still…pretty?”

He blinked, and then he shook his head, amused. “Is that even a question?”

You looked at him sullenly. “Don’t patronize me…I’m serious.”

“Very pretty,” he murmured, grabbing your face, his lips pressed roughly against yours. You gasped and panted, not expecting the fierce kisses from him. His hand rested behind your head, your hair roughly tangled in between his long, slender fingers as he spoke deeply, a faint growl heard in the back of his throat, “So fucking pretty.”

You whined against his lips, and Sylus chuckled as he continued to mumble in between his relentless kisses, “My pretty, knocked up hunter, all round and swollen with my baby, so cute and needy—fuck, I can’t get enough of you…”

“Sylus…” You panted, feeling your body warming up as you listened to his voice, hearing that sinful rasp full of desire for you. You unconsciously rubbed yourself against his thigh and Sylus hissed, grabbing your hips.

“Sweetie…what are you doing?”

You blushed. “I—I didn’t mean to—”

He looked at you knowingly. He gripped your hips tighter, smirking. “You’re really testing my restraint right now…”

You looked at him expectantly, biting your bottom lip. He groaned at the sight.

“Sweetie, my self-control can only go so far…”

“What if…” you looked at him, eyes glazing with desire. “I say…I want you right now?”

“What?” Sylus looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to repeat your words. You felt your cheeks warming up under his intense gaze, but more than that, you also felt a burning inside you as you realize how much you missed and ached for his touch.

“What is this lewd expression you are giving me,” he murmured, tipping your chin up. He leaned down and planted kisses along your neck, nipping and sucking as his hands roamed down your body. You shivered against him as he spoke, “Are you…giving me permission, sweetie?”

“…Yes.”

That was all Sylus needed to hear.

His lips crashed upon yours again, hands fumbling with clothes, making quick work to discard them. Your needy gasps and moans mingled with his own impatient grunts and groans as you both gave in to the pleasure you had both abstained from these past few weeks.

“Sy—ohhh…”

Sylus had you on your side, your leg held up by him as he slid in slowly, his movements more careful than normal as he gauged your reaction, making sure to prioritize your comfort and wellbeing first. He placed a hand over your belly, cradling it possessively. “Who put this baby in you?” he demanded, the rasp in his voice noticeable, making you throbbed inside.

“Y-you, Sylus!”

He kissed your neck. “That’s right,” he murmured, nipping at your skin and leaving his marks, “It’s my child growing inside you, my child in your womb.”

You shivered against him.

“Sylus…more…please…”

“Are you sure—”

“Yes!”

He smirked at your eager, impatient response. His face buried into your neck, his voice husky with desire, “It looks like it’s going to be a long night…”

“I can’t be around Luke and Kieran anymore.”

“Are they bullying you, sweetie? Just bully them right back, you have my permission.”

“That’s not what I meant—never mind. I just…feel like they know what we did…”

“Did they say something?”

“No, it’s the way they looked at me…”

“…they wear masks all the time. How can you tell?”

“I just know.”

“Sweetie…”

“Don’t you dare say I am being hormonal again!”

“…”

Ping!

“Sylus, what the hell?! Did you just text an emoji to me?!”

“I did as you said. I did not say you were hormonal.”

“You texted me the ‘pondering’ Grumpy Crow emoji!”

“It could mean anything.”

Ping!

“…Really, sweetie? The ‘annoyed’ Grumpy Crow emoji?”

“It could mean anything.”

You should have known that Sylus would be prepared for your pregnancy cravings, although, you couldn’t help but felt that he had taken things too far.

“Um…” Luke opened the fridge and stared inside for a moment before closing the door. He turned and stared at you from behind his mask. “Is Miss Hunter craving yogurt?”

“What?” You paused in your work and looked up from your laptop confused. “What are you talking about—”

Luke opened the fridge door again, giving you a grand view of the assorted brands and flavors of yogurt that filled the fridge in every conceivable spot possible.

“I—” you stared, mouth agape, “I simply said yesterday, ‘yogurt sounds tasty right now’!”

Kieran strolled over and opened the freezer door and you all stared awkwardly at the containers after containers of frozen yogurt that also lined the shelves.

“At least he is attentive,” Kieran responded pleasantly while you sat there unsure if you should feel happy or exasperated by Sylus’ gesture.

“Let’s see,” Luke started, pointing at each container as he listed the different types, “You have the regular yogurt, Greek yogurt, French-style, organic, dairy-free, low-fat, probiotic—”

“You also have plain yogurt,” Kieran cheerfully chimed in, adding, “Vanilla, strawberry, peach, raspberry, cherry, mango, coconut, pomegranate…”

“Key lime pie, strawberry-banana, chocolate, cookies ‘n’ cream, mixed berry, orange crème…”

“It’s the salad dressing incident all over again…” you bemoaned, earning absolutely no empathy from the two men in the room, who seemed to be delighted by this odd situation.

“Maybe next time you should be more specific,” Luke said unhelpfully, earning instantly a glare from you. He held up his hands in defense and shrugged. “Say, Miss Hunter, can I have one of the—”

“Be my guest,” you said, sighing when Luke happened to grab the vanilla yogurt that came with crushed chocolate cookies to sprinkle on top.

“Wait, does Miss Hunter even have any cravings right now?” Kieran pondered aloud.

Sex, your mind unhelpfully answered for you before you shooed that traitorous thought away. You forced a pleasant smile on your face and shook your head as you rubbed your growing belly. “Not really. This little one doesn’t seem to mind what I eat.”

“Huh,” Luke said as he stirred the cookies into his yogurt. “No wonder Boss is desperate to find anything to buy for you…”

Kieran nodded in agreement with his brother, adding, “He must really want the whole pregnancy experience with you…”

“Is that so?” You couldn’t help but feel touched by Sylus’ gesture now.

“Maybe you should make something up,” Luke suggested.

You rolled your eyes. “Be for real, you two. I am not going to make up some cravings when I don’t have any just so Sylus can—”

“How about pickles and hot chili-lime tortilla chips?” Kieran suggested, looking up from his phone.

“What are you—actually, that does sound good…”

“What sounds good?” Sylus walked into the kitchen, interrupting your conversation. You glared at Luke and Kieran into keeping their silence, and the two nodded reluctantly.

“Never mind that,” you said, standing up with Sylus’ help, “Are you ready to go to Linkon City?”

Sylus sighed. “The doctors in the N109 Zone are just as good. Hell, I can even get you your own personal doctors to come to our home—”

“Sylus, I want to go to Linkon City. Please?”

One look at your pouting lips had Sylus yielding to you immediately. He sighed again and shook his head in defeat, “Fine, fine, whatever you like, sweetie.”

As you and Sylus started to leave the kitchen, Luke piped up, “Hey, Boss, do we have any yogurt around here?”

You shot Luke the dirtiest look you could muster, making a mental note to get back at him again for his comment.

It was a girl.

It was going to be a girl.

Any worries that Sylus would be disappointed in the gender immediately left your brain the moment you caught sight of his awestruck stare as he gazed at the monitor where you both watched the baby make little movements.

The doctor left the two of you alone to gather your thoughts, to bask in this private joyous moment. The moment the door closed and you two were truly left alone, you both let out the breath you were holding in.

Sylus was the first to speak, his voice more surprised than you had ever heard from the usual confidant man: “We’re having a girl…”

Your heart skipped a beat. It seemed each day, everything felt more real than the last. You knew you were having a baby, of course, but now that you knew it was going to be a girl…you felt so many conflicting emotions coursing through yourself: joy, worry, fear, doubts.

But when you looked upon Sylus, any insecurities you felt disappeared instantly, because you knew he would never leave you to handle things alone. If anything, you knew he would shoulder all of the hardship if he could just so you would never have to suffer for a second in your life.

“Sweetie…”

You gazed into his crimson eyes the moment you felt his hand on your cheek.

“Thank you…”

You blinked in confusion, but he never elaborated further. Instead, you felt his lips on yours, his touch more tender, more protective. As you parted, you saw his eyes drifted from the monitor to your belly, his expression was so tender and heartfelt.

You smiled when you realized you were no longer the only girl in Sylus’ heart.

Bright red eyes. Long, straight nose. Full lips.

“Are you not hungry tonight, sweetie?”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been staring at me for the last ten minutes,” Sylus said, frowning, “Do I have something on my face?”

“Uh, no…” you responded, blushing in embarrassment.

“Then what’s wrong? Is the food not to your liking? Do you want to order something else?”

“N-no,” you answered, stopping Sylus from calling the waiter over. Your blush seemed to deepen even more, embarrassed for so many different reasons now. “It’s fine. The food is yummy. Look, I’m eating!”

You took a bite of the roasted chicken on your plate to prove a point. Sylus didn’t look satisfied, so you sighed in defeat and placed your fork and knife down. You breathed in slowly, preparing yourself for your little confession. “Alright…just…don’t laugh at me…”

He huffed in amusement at your preface.

“I just said don’t laugh at me!” you looked up, glaring at him.

“Alright, alright,” he conceded good-naturedly, “So what’s wrong?”

“I was…imagining…”

“Imagining?”

You blushed.

“Imagining what?” Sylus questioned, furrowing his brows as he leaned forward, reaching across the table to grab your chin, turning you to face him. “Answer me.”

“Just…what…the baby will look like…with your features…”

He blinked in surprise, letting go of your chin. He leaned back in his seat, chuckling in amusement.

“You’re laughing at me again!”

“I’m not laughing at you,” he objected. He leaned forward again, his left elbow propped on the table, his chin cradled in his hand as he smiled smugly at you. “You’re just so cute.”

If it was possible, your blush probably deepened to another shade. You tried to focus on your dinner, but this time you could feel Sylus’ eyes watching you intensely. You could practically feel your heart pumping fast and hard in your chest. You startled when you heard him speaking again:

“But shouldn’t the baby also have your features as well, sweetie?”

“Well…probably,” you answered.

“I think she’ll look much prettier if she looks like her mommy.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t flatter me.”

“It’s not flattery if it’s factual,” he countered with a grin. “And her mommy is very pretty.”

You quietly ate your dinner, pretending you didn’t hear him, though inside you felt delighted by his praises. Sylus continued to watch you eat, amused by your transparent act. He could practically see you brimming with joy at his compliments.

“Shall I order dessert?” he asked, already calling the waiter over. He didn’t even look at the menu, saying, “One of everything.”

You gaped. “We couldn’t possibly finish all of that!”

He shrugged. “We’ll take them to go then.”

“That—that’s not what I—” Your eyes widened as Sylus ignored your protests and gave the revised order to the waiter. “Sylus, that’s too much!”

He chuckled again. “Sweetie, you deserve to be pampered,” he said, “Let me lavish and spoil you during this special time.”

He reached across the table again, wiping your lips with his thumb. You heart skipped a beat as you watched him licked his thumb clean. “Besides,” he started, gazing at you fondly, “You’re already giving me the greatest gift ever.”

“I still think you ordered too much.”

“Complain all you want you, sweetie, but when it’s 2 AM and you are craving a lemon-raspberry cheesecake, you will thank me.”

“But I haven’t had that many cravings during this pregnancy! I’m actually a little disappointed…”

“Shall we play the guessing game then?”

“No alcohol.”

“I obviously wasn’t going to suggest—stop glaring at me.”

Another wet dream.

Some women were exhausted. (You were exhausted.)

Some have weird food cravings. (You had a different craving.)

Some may even be emotional. (You were very, very emotional.)

But you.

Well…you…were having wet dreams and an out-of-control sex drive. (Fuck.)

You woke up one morning groaning in annoyance. You remembered bits and pieces of the lewd dream, enough that you were squirming now that you were awake, feeling frustrated in parts because one: you couldn’t finish the dream, and two: you really needed to finish…

You suddenly noticed Sylus was asleep in bed next to you. You briefly wondered why you didn’t notice him getting into bed earlier, but the thought quickly dashed away when your sex-crazed brain suddenly noted appreciatively that he had fallen asleep in his bathrobe again, the belt barely tied around his waist, exposing his toned torso to you.

A book was lying next to him, and his reading glasses were tilted on his face. You surmised he must have fallen asleep while reading earlier. A mischievous thought found its way into your head, and for a brief second, you contemplated, questioning your own motives.

Well, you were only going to help him take his glasses off. You didn’t want them to break. You were just being thoughtful. Truly.

You hauled yourself up, groaning at the increasing difficulty with each day that your belly grew. You steadied your hand over your bump, giving it a gentle rub before you crawled over and climbed onto his lap, straddling him.

Sylus was still asleep, his chest rising and falling slowly.

You held back a moan when you realized he hadn’t put on any undergarment after his shower. What a sneaky bastard.

You leaned forward, touching the frame of his glasses. You hissed when you felt your round stomach pressed forward, touching his toned abdomen. The crisp scent of his body wash wafted in the air so close to your nose, making you just want to lean forward and inhale deeply.

You shook your head, chiding yourself silently before you quickly took his glasses off and placed them on the nightstand.

As you were about to climb off of him, you felt yourself brushing against him—against his bulge. You swallowed slowly, feeling a warmth spread in your core. You could practically feel yourself throbbing and aching inside.

Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Maybe you could be quick and…

You were just going to…

Sylus’ eyes shot opened when he felt a new weight on top of him. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of you on top of him, shamelessly grinding against him. His brain quickly caught up with the situation and he laughed, as he reached out to grab your hips, pulling you into his embrace.

“Well, good morning to you, too, sweetie,” he laughed, kissing your lips, “Is this how you’re going to wake me up from now on? Because I like it.”

You blushed in embarrassment. “I—I can explain.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Grinning, Sylus reached under your nightgown, cupping your sex and rubbing his hand against the fabric of your soaked panties, making you gasped and moaned loudly, the feel of him touching you was a welcoming friction. “Really?” he questioned, his voice dropping an octave lower, “You can explain why you’re so wet right now?”

“Sy-Sylus…” you practically whimpered his name, looking at him pleadingly. You were already suffering from your out-of-control hormones, and right now, that delightfully sinful and sultry voice of his was only making things worse.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” he cooed, “Need to get yourself off on my cock?”

You really did whimper this time.

He looked amused as he undid the belt of his robe. You followed Sylus’ every movement, watching with rapt attention as he wrapped his hand around his magnificent cock and began stroking himself leisurely. His own eyes remained locked on you, relishing in the way you were reacting to him. You swallowed, feeling your insides pulsing, needing to be filled by him.

“Ride me,” he ordered. You shuddered at his tone, but you were also more than ready and willing to listen to him. He smirked as he helped you removed your drenched panties, amused by the needy state you were already in this early in the morning. He helped steadied you on top of him, helped you aligned yourself to him, and then in one fluid motion—

“Fuck…” Sylus threw his head back, groaning, as you eagerly sank down on his fat cock. He looked back at you, grinning at the sight of your aroused face taking him in so deeply. “If I’d known being pregnant would make you this insatiable, I would have knocked you up sooner, sweetie.”

You mewled happily when his large hand touched your round belly, rubbing it in slow circles.

“Look at you,” he crooned, leaning up and leading your lips to his. He nibbled on your bottom lip, his voice a soft murmur, “So sweet for me.”

You gasped as he reached out and pulled down the strap of your nightgown, exposing your breast. They had grown considerably throughout your pregnancy, the areolas had darkened, and your breasts felt very heavy with milk for the baby still in your womb. As you rode him, your breasts bounced heavily, the sight turning him on more and more.

You moaned as his hands groped you, his voice heavy with arousal, “Gonna keep you like this…”

You let out a shuddering gasp when he thrusted up, your hands instantly steadying yourself on his chest. You looked into his eyes as he rubbed your belly again.

“Sylus—”

You closed your eyes, gasping and panting as his mouth took in your sensitive nipple. A lick, a tease, and you could already feel it firming up as he sucked eagerly while his hands roamed your body, every touch of his making your skin burned hot. As the morning wore on, you couldn’t help but think how wonderful it would be when your milk would come in and he would have a taste as well.

You couldn’t wait.

“For the last time, Sylus, we are not buying everything in the catalog!”

“Why not? I can afford it.”

“I know you can afford it, but I don’t need all of these items. The baby doesn’t need all of these items!”

“Sweetie, I am only making sure you and my daughter will want for nothing.”

“Thoughtful, if not ill-conceived.”

“How heartless. You do not appreciate my generosity enough.”

“I will once you explain the crow-themed nursery you had Luke and Kieran planning.”

“A compromise since you will not allow me to make a mechanical crow for her.”

“Incorrigible.”

Sylus had always loved spoiling you, be it with material items, praises, or his affections. It was his sole belief that you deserved to be lavished, to be gifted and spoiled with the luxuries of the world, and within the bedroom, he made sure you were worshiped in other ways. Your every whim was his to answer, and he did so willingly, devotedly, and ardently.

The bedroom lights dimmed, and a record played soft, sensual music in the room.

You found yourself standing bent over his bed, large belly hanging low as he approached you from behind. Large calloused hands held your widened hips, fingers pressing into the soft flesh and already drawing out your fluttering gasps as you trembled with anticipation, already shamelessly imagining that deliciously large, thick cock of his penetrating you so deeply, in ways no other man could ever compare.

He lifted your right leg, holding it higher at hip level to give him an even better access to your soaked pussy.

“You’re so beautiful…and all mine…”

You moaned into the mattress as you felt him easing in.

“Doing alright?” he questioned, showing a moment of hesitancy as he tried to gauge your reaction.

“Yes…yes…Sylus…more…”

He smirked and continued, filling you just the way you wanted.

“I just want to keep you like this…” he murmured, sounding more like he was speaking to himself than you.

Heavy with my child…

Want to keep you bred.

Knock you up over and over and over again…

“Oh, Sylus, you’re being so rough!”

He startled, snapping out of his thoughts. He slowed his movements before bending over and kissing your shoulder apologetically. “I’m sorry, do you want me to stop?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Are you sure?”

“I want you…please?”

He smiled and kissed your cheek. “How can I resist my dear hunter’s sweet request?”

As he began moving again, your fingers curled around the bedsheets, little moans escaped. Unwittingly, you mumbled into the sheets, your words reaching his ears, “More…want…to give you more…”

“What?”

You whined when he stilled. “Sylus…please…”

“What were you…saying?”

Your hand reached around your large belly, rubbing it provocatively. Sylus felt like he had stopped breathing. The very suggestion, the mere idea that you were already hinting that you would let him impregnate you again made him more aroused than he already was.

Sylus breathed in sharply, fingers pressing deeper into your hips.

He smirked.

He drove into you, fast and unforgiving, panting hard with a pleased grin on his face as you buried your face into the mattress, fingers gripping the bedsheets tighter as you cried out his name again and again.

“Are you going to let me fuck you like this again?” he asked.

“Yes, yes, yes!”

“Gonna let me put another baby in you after this one?”

“Yes, Sylus, yes!”

He groaned and buried himself deep inside you, his body loomed over yours, his sinfully deep voice close to your ear now. You shivered as he whispered into your ear, “Do you like being pregnant with my baby, sweetie?”

You moaned when his hand felt your large belly, rubbing it all over possessively.

“Answer me,” he demanded.

“Yes…”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes…I love being pregnant with your baby!” you cried out, voice growing more desperate to his delight as you found yourself unable to stop the words from leaving your lips. “I want to have more of your babies, Sylus! Want to give you as many babies as you want—”

You screamed into the mattress as he picked up his pace again, taking you harder than before. Your tantalizing words seemed to only have spurred him on, his crimson eyes gleaming brightly while a smug smile graced his handsome face. You gasped and moaned, whimpering to him, “Ohhh…Sylus…! Gonna cum…ah…gonna cum, Sylus…!”

He groaned as he felt your walls tightened around him. He panted, his hands rubbing your hips soothingly as he husked, his own breathing uneven as he felt he was close to finishing as well, “C-cum for me, sweetie. Cum on my cock—”

He stilled, his head thrown back with a deep groan as he felt you coming undone, your euphoric cries music to his ears. With a few more hard, deep thrusts, his own climax came, and you felt him filling you with ropes after ropes of his cum. You felt so full.

He leaned over you, his body heavy on yours. You felt his warm kisses along your neck, his divinely rich voice so close to your ear. “You love being pregnant with my baby…you want more of my babies…”

“Uh huh…” you answered back breathlessly with a smile.

“Fuck’s sake,” he groaned at the sight of your suggestive, mischievous smile. “I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

He smirked and grabbed your chin, guiding your sweet lips to his. “When did I become so lucky?”

He pulled out with a groan, chuckling at the lewd sight of his cum dripping obscenely out of you and down your legs. He gathered you into his arms, smiling as you snuggled closer to him, tired but also immensely satisfied. You felt him laying you down in bed, settling in next to you and holding you close to his own body. Sylus watched over you as you rested next to him, his eyes fixated fondly on your sleepy face while his hand rubbed your belly soothingly to calm your restless baby in your womb.

“She’s moving so much tonight,” he murmured, bemused.

“Can you blame her?” you answered, eyes still closed, but your hand rested over Sylus’, guiding him to where you felt the most movements.

He chuckled. “Fair point,” he conceded. He leaned down and kissed your belly, whispering sweet words to your daughter, his voice holding so much love and devotion for the baby you two made together.

You opened your eyes, smiling at the sight of him caressing your belly adoringly. You had never thought there would be a moment like this in your life, never dared to dream of a love as sweet and pure as this. You wondered if you had traded all of the good luck in your lifetime for this man and the life you were both embarking on together.

“Do…do you want more?” you asked suddenly, voice tentative, almost fearful.

Sylus seemed to stop breathing for a moment.

“More…children,” you clarified.

He exhaled, and laughed. He settled more comfortably in bed, pulling you into his embrace, his hand already stroking your hair gently, already easing your worries. You relaxed under his tender ministration, eyes closing as you listened to his voice:

“Hearing the pitter-patters of little feet in this large house…why, that might be my new dream…”

You hummed in agreement before a yawn escaped. Sylus smiled.

“Shall I tell you a story, sweetie?”

“Mmhmm…”

“There once was a lonely old crow,” he began, gentle eyes gazing down at your sleepy face, “He lived only for himself…until he found a kitten…”

“A kitten?” you mumbled drowsily; eyes still closed. You yawned again and snuggled closer to Sylus. You sighed contentedly when you felt his hand stroking your head. His presence was so warm, so protective and loving, you felt like you could sleep and dream forever in his arms.

“A kitten,” Sylus repeated, continuing, “A kitten…he wanted to protect…and love…”

Sylus paused, hearing soft snoring. He looked down and saw that you had already fallen asleep. He stroked your hair, wrapping strands around his finger.

“They’ll live happily ever after together,” he promised.

Sylus had never cared for sunlight.

He had traversed in darkness and made himself ruler of a city shrouded in never-ending darkness. He lived within the shadows and only knew of this isolating world—of this existence.

Until he met you.

He had crossed over to your world, stepped into the light, into the warmth of the sun. Even though he still found the light unpleasant, he was willing to bear it all just to be near you. To see the joy on your face as you walked under the sun again after so long was a sight to see.

You always did make the sun more bearable, he thought, feeling your hand slipping out of his. You walked on unaware while Sylus fell behind, admiring the beauty in front of him.

Bathed in daylight, Sylus saw a blinding vision, a bright future with you in his life, by his side steadfastly. He knew he had stolen a piece of Heaven, already prepared and willing to pay the heavy price to keep what he had coveted.

“Will you be my wife?” he asked suddenly and you paused in your steps, realizing he had fallen behind. You turned and looked at him, cheeks tinged a pretty shade of pink, unsure if you had misheard him or not. “What did you say?”

He chuckled and shook his head in amusement at your coy look. He walked toward you slowly, but his long legs easily closed the distance between the two of you in no time. “Make an honest man out of me,” he said. Gentle crimson eyes peered down at you full of resolve and love. His hand caressed your cheek lightly, his voice soft and sultry, “Be my bride?”

“But…I’m pregnant,” you reminded him feebly, not noticing his confused look. You lowered your eyes to the ground, but truly all you could see was your large, round belly. It had been a while since you last saw your feet. You were all too aware of Sylus’ eyes on you, feeling your heart pounding in your chest as you replayed his earnest words in your mind. You continued meekly, “I’ll look fat in a wedding gown…”

He laughed. Sylus leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek. “You’re not fat,” he said sternly, “You’d look gorgeous even with this belly—why, I might enjoy it even more.”

You huffed doubtfully. You continued to avert gazes with him, but you could still feel the warmth of where his lips were on your cheek. Your heart continued to race and you could feel the baby in your belly growing more active, possibly sensing your tumultuous emotions. You unconsciously cradled your belly, rubbing soothing circles.

Sylus noticed and he smirked, tilting his head in amusement. He tipped your chin up, his lips mere centimeters from yours. “I want everyone to know that you and this baby are mine.”

“Sylus…”

“Sweetheart, it was always you,” he said, “There is no one else.”

He pecked your lips, so light and fleeting, you yearned for more. Your eyes rested on Sylus, his entire being engraved into your memories, into your heart, into your soul. When you looked into his beautiful eyes, you could see forever. There was only one answer you could give him.

“How about it?” he murmured, his deep voice was like honey to your ears, so sweet and sensual in the way he uttered just those three simple words. “Marry me?”

You smiled. “Guess this is forever…”

In mere seconds, you were enveloped in his warmth, his eyes seeing only you, only the life that was about to unfold.

“When did my luck change?” Sylus wondered aloud, stealing kisses after kisses from you.

When indeed…

The pieces of your lives fell into place, this picture of paradise becoming clearer with each passing moment. It was yours to keep, yours to hold.

How divine.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #lnds smut #sylus smut #love and deepspace x reader #sylus x reader #x — fanfics #lnds series — birds of a feather #how did this turned out to be 10k+#my longest one-shot before this is only 8.2k words #what does this say about me??????#(down bad for sylus that’s what)#anyhoo #i hope this was worth the wait 🥺#stay tuned for the last part <3 #(it won’t be as long as this one lol)

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readwritealldayallnight · 1 month ago

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It didn’t matter how long or short you were apart, Simon always brought something back for you

After each and every one of his deployments, though all you ever asked for was for him to return to you in one piece, he would find you a small souvenir, a token, a postcard, or some sort of little trinket from whichever corner of the glove he found himself in this time, keeping it near and dear to him until his feet were back on familiar ground and he could put it in your familiar hands

You had told him that it wasn’t necessary, but when he simply blinked and ask you if it made you happy, your reply was an instantaneous ‘yes’, to which he replied ‘then yes, it is necessary’

You loved and treasured all of them, multiple shelves throughout your shared flat adorned with the items that reminded you of the fact that he was always being reminded of you wherever he went

It didn’t take very long for Simon to become enamoured with your reactions each time he presented you with his newest find, wondering if whatever he picked out would make you gasp and cover your mouth, make you roll your eyes and smirk, make you laugh and squeeze his arm, each time was a guessing game that had his heart skipping a beat or two in anticipation

Soon enough, he decided he didn’t really need deployments as an excuse to surprise you, or any reason really, other than to see you smile

And so, trips to the supermarket made by Simon alone more often than not began including cupcakes in your favourite flavour

He’d come back from the mailbox and drop a single flower from someone else’s garden onto the table in front of you

Your nearly finished perfumes and lipsticks would magically find themselves replenished

But being Simon, his gifts didn’t always need to be extravagant

On the rarer occasions when he was only on base for a day, he’d often bring you back something simpler, if not sillier, like a paper clip or a sticky note with a terribly drawn doodle he’d stick to your forehead (god forbid he ever bring home a bullet casing, bragging about how he was thinking about you while he practiced shooting loads today-)

Sometimes he’d bring home a book he saw laying around the common room he thought you might enjoy

Other times he might walk into a room and notice you eyeing the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling it over his head without hesitation and offering it to you before you could even think to ask

Most of the time though, Simon was great at bringing home takeaway for dinner, a favourite sight of yours to behold as he walked through the door of the flat

Empty handed or not, so long as he was home with you , you were happy

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shouyuus · 2 months ago

Text

to kiss the sun

violet; 5,574 words; fluff and smut, no "y/n", wlw, tribbing, oral (r!receiving), face-riding, fingering (both receiving), switch!vi supremacy, service top!vi, p0rn with feelings (many MANY feelings), morning after vibes, gratuitously fluffy sex, popstar!reader x vi au

summary: the morning after vi shows up at your penthouse, you make good on your promise to show vi a few things you picked up at the brothel; sequel to counting stars

a/n: i didn't know writing smut could make me so soft. vi is needy and we must do our duty to give her everything she wants. thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

─── Ⅵ SHE'S SO USED TO WAKING UP alone that for a second, the empty bed doesn’t feel unfamiliar. and then — flashes of the night before flicker like frames of a still-remembered dream behind her eyelids — your steady, delicate hands, the trickle of bath water like piano music against her skin, the gently perfumed mist that had hung in her chest for hours after that bath had ended.

your lips, her tongue, the promise of a morning just far away enough to forget.

vi shoots up, blinking sleep from her eyes. all her muscles feel sore, but there’s a warmth pulsing beneath her skin that she hasn’t felt in… years. her limbs are heavy, thick still with the honeyed dregs of dreams but the space next to her on the oceanic bed is vast, and the only sign that you’d been there the slightest ruffle of your silken sheets.

she wraps her arms around herself, her mind still swimming with memories of last night, even as a frown creases her forehead.

“don’t worry, i’m not going anywhere. promise.” that was what you’d said — and yet.

a hard-lined prickle works up the back of her throat and vi slumps back to bury her face in a large, fluffy pillow, letting out a groan. she feels like a child, petulant and wanting. but it doesn’t stem the clench in her stomach, the old, viperous voice in the back of her head that whispers —

see? everyone leaves you. always.

and then, from somewhere beyond the closed bedroom door, she hears… singing. and she’s tumbling out of bed before she can stop herself, her toes curling into the soft pashmina carpet, her fingers cold against the doorknob as she pushes through.

she finds you in the open kitchen, your back to her as you prod at something on the stove. the delicious smell of cooking meat hits her nose and immediately makes her mouth water. but she’s held still by the sight — you still wearing the large nightshirt from last night, your pink lace robe slipping off your shoulder as you sway back and forth on your tiptoes.

the lemon-yellow light spilling through your massive windows gilds you in morning-glory gold.

vi lets out a breath she doesn’t remember holding and pads her way towards you, looping both arms around your middle and burying her face in your neck.

“oh!” you gasp, turning slightly, your eyes wide, “i didn’t hear you —”

“i thought —” vi’s voice is cracked and gravely from sleep; she clears her throat and takes a breath, “you weren’t in bed when i woke up so —”

you let out a sound like a tiny laugh, setting down the spatula in your hand as you twist around in her arms. behind you, three fat sausages and a few eggs are cooking on a large flat pan.

“i didn’t wanna wake you up,” you say, leaning in to press a kiss to her lips, “you looked like you were sleeping so well.”

vi sighs, trailing a knuckle along your cheek, even as she tugs you back for a longer kiss, a deeper kiss. one that has you gasping against her.

you giggle as she pulls away, a bit breathless. “and… you were snoring up a storm so —”

vi leans down to bite at your neck, fingers fisting in your hair to tug your head back for more access.

“i don’t snore.”

“wanna bet?”

vi pulls back with a crooked grin before her eyes flicker back to the pan. she swallows.

you turn, reaching for the spatula again.

“how do you like your eggs?”

“uh… not raw?”

you roll your eyes, bumping her with your hip even as she settles herself against your back, her chin resting on your shoulder again.

“i like mine over-easy, but i can make them scrambled too, if you want.” you scoot the sausages towards the side and flip over one of the bubbling eggs, the sizzle of the oil making vi’s stomach grumble loudly behind you.

“i’ve…” vi pauses, ghosting her lips over your shoulder, “no one’s ever really asked me that before so… i don’t… i don’t know.”

your hand pauses as you shuffle the sausages around the edges of the pan. and then —

“okay, then i’ll make one of each, and you can try both! then maybe tomorrow, i can poach a few — those are the really good ones where the yolk is all runny —”

“hey.”

vi twists your chin towards her; the kiss is sweet, but you can taste the fluttering desperation beneath her tongue, as if she’s searching for something within the warm caverns of your mouth, and that if she can just kiss you hard enough or long enough, she might just find it. when she pulls away this time, there’s something flickering in the pre-dawn blue of her eyes.

“vi?”

she shakes her head, her gaze skating along the contours of your face as if you were a painting she’d been trying to memorize.

“i just —” she swallows again, “this… all just feels too good to be true — like… like the whole thing’s a dream and i’m gonna wake up one day alone and —”

you smile as you press a hand to her cheek. “hey, hey — none of that now. the eggs are gonna overcook —” you turn back around to tend to breakfast, even as vi groans and digs her face into the nape of your neck, her fingers biting into the plush of your hips.

“and, it’s not a dream. but even if it were, what makes you think i wouldn’t just find you again after we both wake up?”

vi frowns as she lifts her head, watching as you plate the sausages and eggs, lifting up onto tip toe for the salt and pepper shakers on the shelf. she grins, loosening her arms ever so slightly to let you grab them before she’s pulling you into her again and you’re laughing in her arms.

“ugh. i’m never gonna win with you, huh princess?”

“nope — now help me carry this to the bedroom. i’m gonna pour us some drinks.”

vi watches in muted fascination as you lay out a breakfast tray on your pristine sheets and slot two bubbling glasses of what she’s sure is champagne into the carved out glass holders, and then motions for her to put down the large plate of food. she does, her expression both reverent and amused as you flop down onto the bed and tug the blankets up around your lap, patting the spot next to you.

“c’mon — before it goes cold!”

she slips beneath the covers again, crossing her legs as she watches you reach for your glass, the liquid inside shimmering with pale gold bubbles.

“bon appetit!” you say, grinning at her as you reach for a sausage with your hands. vi’s eyebrows hike up as you bring it to your lips, taking a bite, moaning around it as hot oil slicks down the side of your hand and you lean down to lick it back, the pink flash of your tongue making her stomach twist with an entirely different kind of hunger.

but, she decides, one indulgence at a time — and reaches for a sausage of her own, foregoing the knife and fork just as you had.

it’s delicious, sweet and salty, the fat bursting in her mouth making her shiver as she swallows. she’s never had anything so delicious, anything so truly indulgent. she scarfs down one sausage, and then reaches for another, pausing only to glance up at you. she finds you watching her with a smile and a sparkle in your eyes that looks so dangerously like love it makes her gut clench.

how long has it been since someone’s looked at her like that? like she was beautiful, like she was —

“someone worth looking at?” your words from the night before echos in her ears as she takes the second sausage with a sheepish grin, licking her lips of the oil.

“i can make more if you want,” you say, leaning back and sipping at your drink, “there’s plenty in the fridge, and i’ll make as many as you want.”

vi shakes her head, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, “no, this is —” she reaches for her own glass, gulping down half in a single swig, coughing as the bubbles fizzle up her throat, “this is good —”

by the time she finishes the second sausage, you’re splitting the eggs with a knife and fork, your movement precise, as if she hadn’t just watched you lick sausage fat from your own wrist.

“here, try the eggs. this is the over easy, and this —” you push two piles of eggs towards her, one bleeding yellow yolk over the fine white china, the other a pile of fluffy sun-colored scramble, topped off with flecks of black pepper and large flakes of white seasalt.

vi scoops up one, moaning around the runny yolk, before shoveling a bite of the scrambled egg into her mouth.

“holy shit — i mean, they’re both really good —” she leans down to scrape up some more, licking the fork clean with a happy little hum.

“is there one you like better?” you ask, and vi looks up, a final bite of egg poised halfway to her mouth. she grins as she sets down her fork and pushes the breakfast tray gently out of the way, tugging you towards her.

“yeah well, sure but… ‘s not like i can focus on that when you’re sitting right there looking like breakfast, lunch, and dinner —” she grazes her lips along the length of your neck, nuzzling into the soft spot right behind your ear, breathing you in like a woman lost. and she is — isn’t she? lost in this paradise you’ve built for her, lost in the feeling of you, the irrefutable knowledge that you’re here, and that you’re here to stay.

“y-you seemed pretty focused c-cleaning that plate just a second ago — o-oh —!”

you gasp as she pins you beneath her, your leg knocking against the breakfast tray, her mouth hot along your collarbone.

“v-vi — the china —”

“mm — fuck — fine —” she pulls away from you, keeping you pinned beneath her with her thighs, thick and strong, clamped on either side of your hips as she twists around to set the breakfast tray on the floor before turning back with a smirk. “there. happy now, princess?”

you nod, smiling up at her as she returns to her single-minded task of kissing your throat, sighing against your skin as she tugs your robe from your shoulders and inches her fingers beneath the hem of your nightshirt.

“c’mon princess — didn’t you promise me you were gonna show me all the other things you learned at the brothel, hm?”

you gasp as she tugs your nightshirt up off your torso, leaving you in nothing but your lacy pink panties, your cheeks flushed, your nipples pebbling in the sudden chill.

“mm… never gets old…” vi says, reaching down to tweak at one of them, grinning as you whine.

“vi… vi, please —” you reach out for her, fingers gentle against her tensing stomach as she groans and leans down to kiss you. but before she can, the world flips and she’s hissing out a breath, blinking in confusion as you rock your hips, sitting astride her now, one palm laid flat against her sternum, the other cupping her cheek.

vi stares up at you, her eyes wide but you can see the way her pupils dilate, her gaze going hungry.

you offer her a tiny, knife-flash grin, trailing your thumb along her skin till it grazes her bottom lip.

“there… that’s one trick they taught me… would you like to see some others?”

vi moans, her head rolling back as you rock your hips down over hers again, her hands shooting up to grasp at your waist, her eyes fluttering shut.

“holy fuck, yeah —” she helps ruck your hips down, fingers digging into your flesh as you reach down to gently tug her chin back down, whispering against her lips —

“eyes on me, violet…”

her eyes flicker open, a soft whimper curling up her throat as you shift your hips down and your clothed cores meet through the layers of fabric.

“want you to watch me when i’m making you feel good.”

“sweet jesus…” vi breathes, her brows furrowing ever so slightly as you reach down to inch her shirt up as well, tilting your head slightly as you wait for her to lift her hands. you toss the shirt off the other side of the bed, breathing out as you feast your eyes on the sight of her, splayed out beneath you, a classical artist’s dream of solid muscle and ink-kissed skin.

“you know, they used to carve statues to immortalize bodies like yours…” you say, pressing a line of unhurried kisses to her shoulder, trailing across her collarbones, down the divot of her breasts, pausing over each nipple, laving your tongue over the tiny metal rings there, warming them on your tongue before popping off and making your patient way down the length of her torso. you trace the shape of her stomach muscles with the tip of your tongue, graze your teeth against the delicate skin right above the waistband of her shorts, eyes always cast up at her face, watching for the minute reactions that she’s always been so generous to give.

“eyes, violet,” you remind her gently as you suck a hickey over her hipbone and her entire pelvis jerks up towards you. she huffs out a breath, forcing her eyes open to look down at you, a pout threatening her mouth even as she chews on her bottom lip.

“shit princess — you can’t — i — it feels too good, i —”

“i know,” you shush, holding her gaze as you shift to slip the shorts from her legs, discarding them over your shoulder with a cock of your head like a curious little bird, looking her over with bright eyes.

“but i’ll stop if you look away again, okay?” you chide, grazing a thumb along her already slickened folds, circling her clit once just to see the way her jaw drops open, her eyes rolling back. you pull your hand away and she jerks up, a hand shooting out to grab your arm.

“sweet fuck, mm — c’mere —”

you hitch an eyebrow, watching her as she tugs you towards her, melding her mouth with yours, the self-same desperation you’d tasted earlier blossoming behind the tombstones of her teeth like words she’s never had the courage to say aloud. all her needs, all her wants, pressed there like flowers between the pages of her story, and you — leaning in, opening your mouth, kissing her back like you’d love nothing more than to see them, to read them, to listen, to learn.

you let her kiss you, and you let yourself be kissed. you let her pour herself into you with her fingers in your hair, and your hands soft against her neck, running soothing circles into the pulse beneath her jaw. when she finally pulls back, your lips are wet, her chest is heaving. there’s a strange, fractured light in her eyes as she presses her forehead against yours and breathes out, long and deep.

“you okay?” you ask.

“mm. yeah… i just…” she sucks in another breath, “i — uh — i’m not the best with patience —”

you laugh, “you don’t say.”

she chuckles, allowing herself to be pressed back into the sheets. you shift your legs, hooking one of her over one of yours, shifting till your clothed cunt presses against her bare one. she hisses, her head tipping back. a second later, you roll your hips down, the friction making the coil in your stomach knot over itself, but your eyes are still fixed on vi, on the trembling expression painted across her features.

“violet… c’mon, eyes…” is all you say, your voice patient hush as you slowly work yourself against her.

she lets out a pitched whine, but she forces her eyes back onto you, the gentle curve of your body as you grind your pussy to hers. she bites her lips at the wetness she can feel collecting there — hers and yours, the way you don’t hide your pleasure from her, the little hitches in your breaths, the pink flush of color washing into your cheeks, even as you swirl your hips, your eyes never wavering from her face as her mouth falls open around a moan.

“shit — god, that’s —”

“good?” you ask, leaning over her, your hair a liquid spill across your shoulders.

she nods, her mind too blissed out to really speak as you reach down to tweak at one of her nipples, tugging lightly on the ring, your other hand splayed out on her stomach, keeping you steady.

“y-yeah — really — really fuckin’ good —” she says, nearly keening as you pull back to tug your panties from you, the sight of your wetness gleaming on the lace making her skin prickle with heat. she lets you wrap your hand around one of her wrists, pulling it up towards you, brushing your lips over her knuckles before pressing two of her fingers into your mouth.

you moan around them, even as she bites her lips, her eyes half-hooded, but she heeds your earlier warnings and doesn’t look away, doesn’t let them drop shut even as you pull her fingers from your lips with a soft pop and bring them to where your still slowly grinding against her.

“show me what makes you feel good.”

“n-ngh — fuck fuck fuck —” vi chants, canting her hips up to meet yours, even as you cup one of her hipbones in your palm to steady her, watching as she presses her fingers to her clit and draws them in small, quick circles, her thumb flicking up to graze against yours.

your hips stutter and you let out a gasp, the heat in your abdomen solid and familiar.

“look so good, princess — mm —” a tiny frown creases her forehead as she quickens her pace, but you tug her fingers away, swallowing her momentary whine with a kiss, replacing her fingers with your own. you mirror her movements, relishing in the way she works her hips up against you, her movements threaded with urgency, her tongue pressing into your mouth as you slip your fingers down the seam of her cunt to dip inside her.

immediately, she keens, jerking you down as her hips ruck up.

“mm… we’re making a mess,” you say, your voice almost teasing as you pull back to smile at her, your fingers still teasing her sodden folds, “but that’s okay — i was going to do the laundry today anyway.”

you dip down, sucking gently at the skin of her neck, slowly fucking two fingers into her, feeling her clamp down around you, her head tossing back into the pillows as you sit back up and cluck your tongue, fingers slowing ever so slightly.

she peers up at you, her gaze hazy and unfocused, her lashes fluttering.

“there’s those pretty eyes,” you say with a grin, before pushing a third finger into her and curling them up.

“f-fuck!”

you press your palm against her clit, working your fingers inside her till she’s scrabbling at your arm, pulling you down roughly to mouth at your lips, whimpering and panting, her breath fanning hot as she holds you to her by the back of your neck.

“fuck, sweetness — i’m gonna — i’m gonna cum —”

you allow yourself a soft moan, nodding, quickening your pace as you dig the fingers of your free hand into her hip, a dull ache building between your own thighs as you watch vi’s lashes flutter.

“good,” you breath, “cum for me, vi — lemme see you cum for me —”

“oh — oh fuck — princess, i — a*-ah — ah — ah!*”

you fuck her slowly through her orgasm, kissing her slow and languid, swallowing around her whimpers and moans, her hips kicking as you tease your thumb over her oversensitive clit.

“holy shit…” she laughs, letting her head thump back into the pillows as you pull your fingers from her and lick them clean. “that was —” she licks her lips, swallowing thickly.

“the girls at the brothel taught me well,” you say, giggling when she tugs you into her arms, nosing against your cheek.

“they sure did but —” her fingers trail down the length of your body to cup your cunt, “i wanna make you feel good too, pretty girl.”

your breath hitches; your lashes flicker.

“mm… so damn wet, and all for me…” she says, tugging you over her shoulders, spreading your pussy lips with two fingers, groaning at the sight of your slick folds.

“c-can you blame me?” you ask, gasping as she pulls you down over her mouth, her fingers caged around your thighs. you let out a soft whimper as you feel her lick a long strip over your cunt, her nose nudging your clit as she moans into you. “o*-oh —*” you squeak as her tongue pushes into you, and you feel her rocking you down, pressing you against her so hard you’re afraid she might suffocate.

you steady yourself against the wall, reaching down to card your fingers through her hair, the color still darker than it used to be, the roots still inked in black.

vi’s cocks an eyebrow up at you from between your legs, and you can almost feel her smirk before you feel her wrap her lips around your clit to give it a hard suck. you yelp, hips jumping even as she yanks you back against her, fucking her tongue into you so hard your stomach clenches with the pleasure.

“oh — oh — ngh — violet —”

“th-that’s it, princess — so hot riding my face — mm — mmph —”

you rock your hips over her mouth, the bright tingle of heat circling through you, coiling tighter and tighter as she eats you out with a wolfish hunger, groaning into your folds as your pace goes jerky and the pin-prick of pleasure stretches inside you, ballooning out till you’re clenching over her face, fluttering around her tongue as she licks eagerly at your wetness, pooling out of you onto her chin and cheeks.

“fuck, you taste — taste good —” she mumbles, lips chasing your cunt even as you try to lift yourself up, her arms flexing as she pulls you back down.

“w-wait — vi — it’s too — too much —”

you squeak as she sits up, flipping the pair of you to finally pin you beneath her, a lopsided grin on her face, a dark, dangerous look in her eyes as she wipes her lips on the back of her hand.

“yeah? but, i’m still hungry, princess —” she wastes no time in prying apart your legs, swearing under her breath as she sees your pussy fluttering around nothing, her fingers shoving into you a second later, “and i mean — i haven’t been trained at a brothel but — been to babette’s enough times to know a thing or two —”

her smirk is sharp, even though her eyes are soft as she watches you writhe beneath her, the remnants of her orgasm still warm in her veins. a furious, ticking urge is pressing up the back of her throat as she fucks you open on her fingers, a savage want blooming inside her chest.

she wants to see you fall apart for her, over and over and over again, wants to make you scream till your voice gives out, wants to swallow around all your pretty little noises — she wants, she wants, she wants —

and then, a softer, deeper desire creeping up, up through her ribs to pool at the base of her tongue, slick as poison —

she wants you to do the same to her, just as you’ve already done.

the want is so huge it terrifies her, makes her chest squeeze even as she leans down to kiss you again, reveling in the taste of her own name on your tongue, dripping from the corners of your mouth like a hymn or a prayer.

it’s a want so vast it won’t fit behind her ribs — that she wants you. in every single way it’s possible to want a person.

and, she wants you to want her too.

“fuck, princess —” she grits out, pulling away just far enough to watch the pleasure crease your forehead, “you want it? tell me — tell me what you want —”

you’re breathless, exhalant, your fingers curling in her hair as you jerk up against her.

“w-want — want this — want you — violet — vi — vi —!”

she groans at the way you say her name, letting her head drop into you shoulder for a second before she curls her fingers and fucks them into you so hard she feels her forearms strain.

“yeah? tell me again, pretty girl —” she lifts her head to find your eyes, and for a split second, she sees herself as you might — disheveled and wild-eyed but the softness of her features is unmistakable, the way her lips are parted, her brows furrowed as she watches you.

your eyes find hers, and your breath is trembling when you say, in a voice that’s so much sweeter than the harshness of her movements, than the toe-curling sound of your wetness as it squelches around her hand, your slick dripping down her wrist and onto the sheets.

“i — i want you, violet — a-all of you — please —”

“fuck, cum for me princess — i — i want — i need to see you cum for me — please, god —”

there’s a whine high in her voice even as you spasm around her, the feeling of your cunt milking at her fingers making her shiver. her movements slow as time itself seems to unspool around you both, your bodies so much more than the sums of their parts — so much skin and breath, so much honey and rest.

you laugh, an indulgent, tickling sound, bubbling up from you as you breathe, running your fingers through her hair as she slowly tugs her fingers from you.

“shit… you came a lot,” she says, laughing with you as you nod and reach for a tissue on the bedside table and hand it to her. she wipes at her hands first, and then her face. and then, she leans off the bed to grab the plate with the leftover eggs, shoveling them into her mouth.

you lay there, watching her with a bitten-back smile. she pauses as she catches your eye.

“sorry — oops —” a bit of scrambled egg nearly tumbles out of her mouth. she licks it back and swallows, setting the plate back down to collapse next to you. “just… didn’t wanna waste it, y’know?”

you giggle, curling onto your side and resting a hand on her chest, flicking at one of her nipple rings.

“hey. quit that.”

you grin, shifting your hand down to rest against her stomach. she reaches up to cover your hand with hers, your fingers lacing easily as she turns to face you.

“still hungry?”

vi smiles, shifting closer to you on the sheets, the pair of you lying face to face, bodies curled in towards one another like mirrored images.

“nah. think i’m good now. that was a good breakfast.”

you laugh, walking your fingers along the bend of her waist, pulling yourself forward till you’re nuzzling into her collarbone. she opens her arms and loops them around you.

“yeah? good. so, have we got a verdict on the eggs?”

vi hums, considering.

“i like the scrambled ones. but… i thought you said you were gonna make something else for breakfast tomorrow?”

she hooks an ankle over yours and you shift against her, softening into her chest.

“yeah, ‘m planning on making a few soft boiled ones, and a few poached ones. they’re kind of similar, but also super different.”

“yeah? how so?”

her fingers trace soft circles into the bare skin of your back; yours trail absently over the dark lines of her tattoo, outlining the cogs and wheels and puffs of tinted clouds.

you try your best to explain the differences between a soft boiled egg and a poached egg, and it ends with the pair of you laughing, vi shaking her head even as she edges closer to you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“i could listen to you talk all day, princess.”

you crinkle your nose, “careful what you wish for.”

“mm,” vi hums, leaning in till your foreheads touch and her eyes flutter shut again, “thanks, though.”

“hm? for what?”

she breathes in, then out.

“for… all this. for breakfast, for…” she lets her voice trail off as her eyes blink open to find you watching her.

“you don’t need to thank me,” you say, inching ever closer, so close now that she can feel the heat of your words over her skin as you speak them, “i meant what i said last night — whatever’s mine is yours and…” you reach up to cup her cheek, “that i want all this because… i want you.”

vi closes her eyes, squeezing them shut as that soft tendril of desire once against pushes up against the back of her throat. she makes a sound caught between a sigh and whine, pulling you into her, wrapping both arms around you and burying her face in your hair.

“gods… you drive me insane.”

you chuckle against her collarbone, blowing an errant strand of pink hair from your mouth.

“if it’ll make you stay with me then…” your voice is slightly muffled, but vi hears it all the same, feels the rumble of it from your chest to hers, the honesty in them shaking her to the core.

she squeezes you once, long and hard, before letting you go.

“careful what you wish for,” she says, echoing your words back at you.

you smile, a simple thing, leaning up to brush your lips to hers. it’s a soft kiss, one that’s devoid of the pulsing, urgent want of your kisses prior, but for some reason, this one lingers like a prickle on the tongue, champagne bubbles as they filter down your throat, fizzling warmth through both your chests even after you pull away.

“didn’t i already tell you?” you say, bumping your nose to hers, “i’ve been praying for this since the day we met.”

vi lets out a small laugh, nodding, “yeah… you did, huh.”

you tangle your fingers in the long hairs skimming down her back.

“you don’t have enforcer stuff you need to report in for?”

vi groans, rolling her eyes, “i mean… i probably do but…”

you shake your head, “give them a call, ask for a few days off.”

vi’s eyebrows hitch at your words, “and… what do i tell them?”

“that you’re taking a few days off — call it a vacation if you want.”

“huh,” but her lips are already tugging into a knowing smirk, “and what do you propose we do on this so-called vacation of mine, hm?”

you shrug, giggling as she leans down to nip at your collarbones.

“mmm… how does staying here, sleeping in, and eating through my favorite recipes sound?”

vi pulls back, her expression flickering through several channels before settling on a mix of cautious and hopeful.

“are… you sure? you — you don’t have like… famous-person stuff you have to do?”

you laugh, “nope! not for a week at least. and… i’ve got a few really good bottles of wine in the cellar i’ve been meaning to try.”

“the cellar?”

you grin, “go make the call.”

vi pushes herself up, carding a hand through her hair and rubbing at her temples. but she glances back at you, her fingers still linked with yours. you glance down at your hands before giving her a squeeze.

“go on, i’ll still be here when you get back. i promise.”

vi leans back down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“promise?” she asks.

you nod, leaning up to kiss her properly, pulling away only when she tries to push you back into the mattress. you shoot her an exasperated look as she tugs on a shirt and nearly trips over the breakfast tray, glancing back at you from the bedroom door.

“go. i’ll be here,” you say again. and vi gives you one last lingering look before slipping through the door, leaving it swinging behind her.

a few seconds later, you hear her voice as she says —

“uh hey, it’s me. can you connect me to the warden?”

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aureatelys · 2 months ago

Text

like cherries in the spring

pairing: aaron hotchner/fem!bau!reader rating: explicit w.c.: 4k bc i cant stop myself

content warnings: 18+ PLEASE MDNI, porn without plot, consensual somnophilia (mentions of discussing it beforehand), intercrural sex sorta, thigh fucking sorta idk what to call it but thats close enough, brief v fingering, eventual p in v, light dom/sub undertones because thats who i am, light bondage (being held down), light choking (just a hand on your throat), unprotected sex, no y/n, established relationship, employee/boss relationship duh, self indulgent <3

summary:

You were barely conscious when you felt something poking your butt.

read on ao3 here or below <3333

You were barely conscious when you felt something poking your butt.

You try to blink awake, immediately blinded by the sunlight filtering in through the blinds. For a second, you think you’re still in Los Angeles with the California heat making your clothes stick to your back, working on a kidnapping case, which means you need to get up and get ready fast.

However, someone stirs behind you, and you realize you’re not in California. You’re home, in your bed, and being spooned by Aaron.

You try not to sigh in relief so as not to disturb him. He needs the rest, obviously, based on the fact that Aaron tends to get up like clockwork at 8 in the morning, even on his days off. You crane your neck to check the clock on your bedside table. Nearly 9:30 in the morning.

You’re almost tempted to wake him up, knowing that Aaron will be secretly annoyed and feeling like he slept the day away, but then you remember how late it was when you got in last night. The team just got done with a case in a Los Angeles suburb and decided to fly back home despite how late it was, which meant that it was really late when you finally made it back home. You distantly remember leaning on Aaron’s shoulder, trying not to fall asleep standing up, and him grunting for everyone to take the following day off and hearing everyone let out a tired cheer. You weren’t able to sleep on the jet, envious at everyone else’s ability to take a nap as soon as they closed their eyes, and kept Aaron company while he finished his notes.

You remember sitting across from him, the glow of the reading light shining on him with his head ducked over his files. He was clearly exhausted just like everyone else, evident by the bags underneath his eyes and the way he attempted to hide his yawn every couple of minutes, but you know that he always makes an effort to try and finish the paperwork the same day while the case was still fresh on his mind.

You had a book open in front of you, long forgotten, as you rested your chin in your palm and stared at your boyfriend.

He glances up at you every now and then and shakes his head to himself, smile on his face, when you make no move to stop staring almost dreamily. It’s not your fault he’s so handsome, even when he’s running on 4 hours of sleep.

“Ridiculous,” he had muttered, feigning annoyance, however you felt him knock his feet against yours underneath the table. Something warm settles in your chest at that.

You remember stumbling into Aaron’s apartment, through the living room, and falling face first into the bed. You hadn’t even bothered to change into your pajamas, but you were just too tired to care, evident by passing out as soon as your face hit the pillow.

It didn’t matter now, however, as you felt Aaron’s body pressed up against yours, so warm it was nearing unbearable. You felt his soft exhales against the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine, and the beginning line of his morning wood poking your ass. You felt the soft comforter brush against your bare legs and realize that Aaron must have changed you in your sleep, leaving you in your panties and a tank top.

You swallowed, suddenly feeling utter want tugging at the bottom of your stomach. It had been a couple of days since you guys had done anything, even with the shared hotel room. Working on a kidnapping case in a shitty hotel with thin walls didn’t really set the mood, no matter what anyone said. Sure, you and Aaron were able to sneak in some heated kisses and touches, but never more than that before both of you were falling asleep with case files and medical reports at the foot of the bed.

You carefully pushed your hips back against him, feeling his cock twitch against you. Aaron shifted, throwing his arm over your waist, however his breathing was still deep and heavy. He was usually a light sleeper, a result of the job, so him not waking up from that must mean he was more tired than he let on.

You’re still groggy, but an idea slowly forms in your head. Of course, you two didn’t get the chance to discuss this last night, but you distantly remember a conversation several weeks ago where you told Aaron you wouldn’t mind too much if he woke you up by touching you or going down on you and whether he would be interested in you doing the same to him.

He had given you a look so dark, pupils blown and a smirk slowly forming on his mouth, that you wanted to drop to your knees right there in the kitchen.

Instead, he leaned forward to press a kiss to the side of your head and mutter a “Some other time, dirty girl.”

Now seems like the perfect time.

You move your hips back again, relishing in the way you can feel Aaron’s cock grow bigger, harder. You wiggle and let out a breathy sigh when you feel him migrate to between your ass cheeks. It’s not enough and definitely not close enough to where you really want him, but it feels good. Dirty, just like Aaron had said.

You move up on the bed a little more, careful not to stir too much, lifting your hips from the bed a bit until his clothed cock was between your thighs and pressed right against your pussy.

You moan at that, clenching your thighs when you feel that familiar throbbing in your cunt, wishing he was already inside of you.

But this feels good too. Two layers of clothes between Aaron’s thick cock and your wet pussy. You start to move your hips against him, breathless at the way the head of his cock barely grazes your clit. You can feel the wet spot undoubtedly forming on your panties, your wetness helping his cock glide against you.

You feel yourself get carried away, chasing the small sparks of pleasure running up your spine just from feeling the girth of his cock against your hole, when you feel Aaron’s arm that’s draped over you move.

You freeze, though you’re not sure why, it’s not like you’re doing anything wrong, when you feel his hand come up to grope at your breast over your top.

You hear him hum, still breathing warm air against your neck, and feel him somehow press closer against you. You wait for him to say something, either teasing you for being so horny and rubbing up against him or wordlessly tugging his briefs down to press his cock against where you need him, but there’s nothing.

He’s still asleep.

You exhale in relief, ignoring the nagging thought in your brain saying why are you into this, you freak, but then Aaron’s hand on your breast starts moving, just barely groping.

You’ve known that Aaron has always been a touchy guy behind closed doors, always hungry and wanting to be close to you wherever he got a chance. He’s said it’s because he loves your body and not being able to touch you at work drives him crazy, and you can tell he’s telling the truth from the way his jaw clenches when you lean over his desk to hand him a file or the look he gives you when you cross your legs sitting across from him on the jet and your skirt rides up.

At home, you let him have his fill. He’s constantly groping your tits, pinching at your nipples. He’s grabbing a handful of your ass, squeezing, and grabbing your hips so hard he leaves bruises. He has a hand on the back of your neck and pushing your face into the mattress or wrapping his large hand at the base of your throat, putting light pressure as if a reminder of who you belong to. He loves touching you and you clearly don’t mind, however you’re seriously wondering how obsessed he is with your body if he can touch and grope you in his sleep.

He's squeezing your breast and canting his own hips against you. You feel his cock twitch again and the wet spot he must be leaving through his briefs drags against you and your thigh. You bite your lip at that, unsure whether Aaron was about to wake up or not.

You feel his hand move from your breast to your abdomen, fingers just barely brushing over your nipple, making you almost jump, and wrap his arm around your middle. You hear him grunt, something masculine and deep that makes you want to lose your mind, and feel him thrust into you, rutting into you like he can’t control himself.

You whimper at the feeling of being constricted, imagining Aaron’s veins popping out of his forearms. Not caring whether he’ll wake up, you reach down to pull at his briefs just enough so his cock pops free. You sigh at the feeling of hot flesh against your thigh and your mouth waters when you feel precum leaking down the head of his cock, smearing on your panties and thighs.

You wait and strain your ears to listen to Aaron’s breathing. Somehow, it’s still steady.

You’re starting to get impatient, just about to throw this all away and wake him up to sink down on him, but then you feel his bare cock press against your hole through your panties and it just feels so good. You know that if Aaron wakes up, he’s going to want to fuck you fast and hard and honestly, you’re having a lot of fun teasing yourself.

He stops humping into you, the arm around your middle relaxing, and he grumbles a bit and presses his face against the nape of your neck. His breath tickles you.

You start moving your own hips again, just barely, enough to feel the slow drag of his cock against your clit through your panties. They must be absolutely soaked through right now and you desperately wish you could just take them off without waking Aaron up and press the head of him into you, stretching you out. A sweat starts to break out on your back and on your neck and Aaron’s body heat, naturally running warmer than you, isn’t helping but you don’t care.

You hear a sharp inhale, a particular deep thrust against your pussy, and then a “What do you think you’re doing?”

You freeze, feeling like you got caught with your hand in the cookie jar and not like you were humping desperately against your boyfriend like a teenager. “Uhm.”

His left arm moves up from where he was still wrapped around you, brushing purposefully against your nipples and making you whine, to wrap his hand around the base of your throat. He doesn’t put any pressure, but just the weight of his hand is enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head.

“I said,” he whispers, exhaling against your ear. He thrusts his hips once against you, making his cock slide against you better in a way you could never replicate. “What are you doing?”

You swallow, unsure on how you want to play this. The low deep rasp of his voice this early in the morning always sends you reeling. “Nothing.”

Aaron hums and the grip he has on you tightens just a bit before he’s trailing down your chest. This time, he flicks your left nipple, making you jump and bite your lip at the same time, and moving down past your stomach and to your pussy. “This doesn’t feel like nothing, honey.”

His hand traces the waistband of your panties and the curve of your hips. The callouses on his fingers are rough, but familiar, making you squirm against him. Aaron hisses at that and it’s like he finally snaps as he reaches between your legs and roughly pulls your panties to the side to thrust his cock against your bare cunt, hips slamming into yours.

“In fact, it feels like you’re being a dirty girl, rubbing up on me like you can’t help yourself.”

Your gasp morphs into a moan when you feel the head of his cock finally brushing your swollen clit, no clothes in the way. Now you can feel how sopping wet you are, making the glide of his throbbing cock against your pussy smooth and perfect. This whole thing feels dirty, like you’re trying to take what you can get before you can get caught even though there’s no one else home with Jack being at a sleepover. The thrusting of his hips against yours to rub against your wet folds just makes you think about him fucking you into the mattress until you’re a whining mess. “Aaron…”

“What do you want, baby?” Aaron murmurs, starting to press soft kisses behind your ear. Hearing his early morning voice again makes your insides turn into a puddle. The warmth of his body and his cologne from yesterday still barely detectable is intoxicating, making you spread your legs a little so his cock nestles deeper against your wetness. You start to move your own hips to meet his and the lewd sound of your pussy and his hips slamming into yours is so so hot.

“Please…” you whine, the words dying in your throat because your head is swimming, and you don’t know exactly what to say. You secretly hope he knows what you want—what you need.

Aaron suddenly gets up to sit on his knees and moves you with a hand on your hip so you’re laying flat on your front, face pressed into your pillow. You nearly cry at the loss of pressure against your clit, but he quickly puts a hand on the back of your head to shove your face into the pillow. He straddles your thighs, roughly moves your panties aside again to insert a thick finger inside of you.

You moan wantonly at the feeling of finally being filled, the sound muffled against the pillow. His finger goes in easily due to how wet you were, but the feeling of being stretched even just a little bit make you feel drunk.

“Is this what you want, pretty girl?” He moves his finger in and out of you fast, almost rough, but it’s still something and it can still make you come if you try really hard since you’ve been playing with yourself for what feels like hours.

You already start to feel the beginning pressure at the pit of your stomach, clenching and unclenching around just one finger. Your clit is barely getting anything out rubbing against the sheets, but you don’t even care, having been on edge for days. “Yes, yes—Aaron…”

Aaron hums casually from behind you, as if you guys were talking about the weather. “Are you going to come for me?”

You nod furiously into the pillow, moving your face to the side so you can breathe more easily. “Yes, yes, please—”

Suddenly he takes his finger out of you with a loud and vulgar noise, nearly making you scream in frustration. You’re about to yell at him, maybe even turn around and smack him on the shoulder, until you feel your panties being quickly tugged down your legs, the head of his cock up against your hole, and then pressing in.

“Oh…,” you moan, nearly sighing in the familiar feeling of being properly filled. There’s a slight burn from that stretch you secretly love. The hand he had pressed against the back of your head migrates to the back of your neck, grabbing a hold of you so possessively it makes you squirm.

Aaron leans over you until his face is next to yours, his soft moans like music to your ears as he bottoms out. “Fuck, baby, you’re still so tight…”

You try to crane your neck to look at him, desperate to see his face. He has his eyes closed, brows furrowed in concentration, most likely trying to resist immediately fucking into you. His hair is almost artfully mussed, fluffy and falling into his face. Yesterday’s stress is gone and instead is replaced with absolute desire. His other arm is pressing into the mattress so he can hold himself over you and you nearly start to drool at his bicep bulging out, the veins in his thick forearms prominent.

And as if he can feel your eyes on him, his eyes open. They’re dark and piercing, pupils nearly blown out. There’s a hint of that damn smugness in the corner of his mouth, but it smooths out into something softer around the edges when he leans in to press a closed-mouthed kiss against yours. He knows how much you hate morning breath.

The tender action makes something clench in your chest and you wonder again how you got so lucky.

All sweet thoughts fly out the window when Aaron pulls out slowly until just the head of his cock is in you. You moan at the sudden loss and squirm, knowing how much he likes seeing your hips move.

Just like you predicted, he growls and slams back into you, pressing his hips against the flesh of your ass. “So needy.”

“Aaron, please…” you beg, moving your arms from underneath you to behind you in an attempt to touch him, feel him, something.

Because Aaron is Aaron and somehow can read your mind, you feel him grab both of your wrists together in one hand to press against your back. You have no leverage now and can breathe a little easier now that he’s not pressing down on your neck, instead his other hand gripping onto your hip.

“Don’t worry, I’ll give what my dirty girl needs,” Aaron coos, almost mockingly in the way that makes your heart stutter, and then he starts fucking you so hard the breath gets knocked out of you.

He’s relentless, no more teasing and rubbing up against his cock. The grip of his fingers on your hip and wrists are tight, hopefully enough to leave bruises, as he essentially pulls you on and off his cock. He fills you out so good, hitting that spot inside of your pussy that sends sparks up your spine, making you feel like your brain is short circuiting. It’s like you can’t even think anymore, which is a normal occurrence when Aaron fucks you like this, and all you can hear is the wet sounds of your pussy, his hips slamming against yours, and moans that he’s not bothering to hide anymore.

You distantly can hear yourself begging to come, nearly screaming yourself hoarse. You’re sensitive, nearly overstimulated with the way Aaron is pounding into you, and you just want to come already. The sheets are wrapped around your thighs, barely rubbing against your clit, and it’s not enough and you arch your back the way he likes, move your hips in an effort to tell him to touch you. “Fuck, oh my God, Aaron.”

“You need me to touch you, baby?” Aaron says, breathlessly, and you know he’s close too, probably holding off until you come first because you know that’s something he likes.

He must be just as impatient as you are because he’s immediately releasing his hold on your wrists to wriggle a hand underneath you and rub your clit in a way that was delicious but almost rough, almost painful enough that it sends you over the edge.

You choke on your moan as you feel your pussy clench on his hard cock, squeezing your thighs together. Your hands find purchase clawing at the sheets underneath you, wrists tingling from where he held onto you. Your mind blanks out, empty besides the sheer bliss wracking your body. Aaron keeps fucking you, keeps flicking your clit, groaning your name and it just adds to your orgasm, nearly making you roll your eyes back into your head.

You feel him fuck you faster, harder, and you had just begun floating down from your orgasm when Aaron comes inside you with a deep and guttural moan. You’ve always loved hearing the noises he makes; how manly he sounds, how deep his voice can get, and the way he whispers your name like a prayer. The noise he makes when he comes, however, is definitely in your top 3.

“Fuck, you take my cock so well,” Aaron grunts, thrusting into you one last time. The hold he has on your hip is nearly painful, definitely bruising. You moan unabashedly at that and the feeling of his warm come inside of you, filling you up. You clench down on him one last time, milking him for all he’s worth, and you hear Aaron’s choked laugh behind you.

He slips out of you, and you feel his eyes on your pussy; probably swollen and absolutely a soaking mess with your wetness smeared all over your inner thighs. He hums, finally satisfied, at the sight of his come dripping out of your cunt, dripping down your slit and onto the sheets. You feel his thumb come and trace your hole, gentle, but making you squirm nonetheless at how sensitive you are and sending a shock through you. His hand is on your hip again, squeezing in a warning, silently telling you to take it.

And you do, keening softly when you feel the rough pad on his thumb brush your clit, smearing his come around. You always had an inkling that Aaron was dirty, with his domineering voice and the way he so easily takes control of a room when he walks in, but you were in for a rude awakening when you both finally stopped dancing around each other.

You hear Aaron inhale sharply when you clench and unclench, probably pushing more wetness out onto the sheets, and you almost brace yourself for his cock to press against your hole again when you feel the bed dip and Aaron getting up to the bathroom to help clean you up. You’re only slightly disappointed, but then remember it’s not even noon and you got the rest of the day left. You bring your arms to cross and rest your head on them while you wait, smiling to yourself as the languid relaxation seeps into your bones the way only getting fucked out of your mind does.

Aaron is tender and gentle while he cleans you up. Underneath all the stoic and cold demeanor, Aaron has always been a huge softie and loves taking care of you, no matter the occurrence. You feel that care when there’s large hands and a towel, warm on your thighs, your hips, your ass as he presses his lips to the bottom of your spine. You feel the barely there scratch of his stubble and hum.

When he’s done, he crawls up the mattress to his spot and settles down with a huff. He immediately is wrapping around you, flinging his arm and leg over you to pull you in closer as you laugh. Your face is pressed against his chest, flushed pink, and you impulsively press a kiss there against the wiry hair. You feel him kiss the top of your head, no doubt smiling because he secretly loves the attention you give him.

“You okay?” Aaron asks, so soft in a way that makes you want to wiggle further into him.

Instead, you push back a bit to look up at him where he’s already watching you, eyes affectionate. Your legs are tangled with his, hips pressed against each other’s despite knowing how sweaty he is. His mouth, usually in that straight line, has softened, and the sight of his bedhead and relaxed brow makes you want to spend the next week touching him all over. His cock pressed against your thigh, half-hard, tells you that may be possible.

“Perfect,” you say, and then you push at his shoulder until he flops on his back, gazing up at you almost reverently as you climb on top of him to straddle his hips.

One of his hands wander up your thighs until he settles on your hip. His hair falls into his face, his eyes still drowsy but the hunger plain as day. He brings his other arm to rest above his head, against the pillows, in a clear show of his muscles that makes your mouth water. He looks devastatingly handsome and just so hot, it’s really not fair.

“Good morning,” he says, casually, as if you’re not quietly losing your mind.

You give him a devilish grin and push your hips back until you can feel the head of his cock against you, already hard and leaking precum against your ass. Satisfaction curls up your spine when his small smile falters and his jaw clenches. You lean down, knowing that he loves the feeling of your breasts pushing against his chest and nipples dragging, until you’re hanging your lips right above his.

“A very good morning, it is.”

#i hope yall enjoy pls let me know what you think <3 #my horniness for aaron strikes again #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner smut #mine #aaron hotchner x reader smut

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orangeboxnlime · 3 months ago

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✨Bonding montage✨ Fanart for @aussie-bookworm 's amazing fic Going through The Motions. This fic makes me go feral fr fr. Absolute cinema

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#this is propaganda go read it #i altered the scenes just a tiiiiny bit hope thats ok #also srry i have no clue how knitting works lol #myart #team fortress 2 #tf2 sniper #tf2 scout #sniperscout #speeding bullet #fanfic

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pastawayallday · 11 months ago

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I couldn’t resist, I had to draw something from Firefight by @remedyturtles . I’m obsessed, I legit cry at every chapter.

#rottmnt #save rottmnt #save rise of the tmnt #donatello #my art #leonardo #firefight #fic fanart #ao3 fanfic #tw blood #sorry about the blood but this scene was so beautiful I had to #brotherly love #i hope i did it justice #save me firefight save me #this fandom has so many talented artists and writers

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 4 months ago

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✧ Fantasies in the dark - I

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: In which Arthur catches a glimpse of your intimacy, the vision driving him into madness until he finally decides to give in to his urges. ✦ Warnings: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation, nudity, voyeurism (reader not aware he's staring), self-depreciation, and lots of shame from this poor man. Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 2,7k Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings. Read on AO3

Part I - Part II

Lately, Arthur had a problem. An incessant, disturbing, haunting problem.

He couldn’t sleep at night.

This could have been related to the gang’s precarious situation, being hunted down by the Pinkertons and surrounded by enemy gangs, O’Driscolls and Lemoyne raiders everywhere. Or even because of some older wounds, the loss of Eliza and Isaac amongst others, reminded almost every day by the complicated family portrait John painted with Abigail and Jack. Or the hurtful thought of the life he never had with Mary that was always following him since he had seen her again near Valentine. Life doomed from the start by his inherent violence and the mountain of corpses he was responsible for.

Arthur had plenty of reasons not to sleep at night. But this wasn’t because of any of that.

He couldn’t sleep because of you.

Not that it was your fault. In fact, you didn’t even know about any of that and Lord have mercy, he was praying that you’ll never find out; because he would never be able to look at you in the eyes then.

A few weeks ago, the gang had settled at Clemen’s Point. A rather pretty spot just near the lake, and not so far from town. But it wasn’t exactly the place that was causing him trouble. It was the unexpected view he was having from his tent.

For some unknown, mystical reasons, Miss Grimshaw while deciding the camp’s ajancement had decided to place your tent right next to his. Not so big of a problem at first sight, right?

Except that you were a night owl combined with the suffocating warmth of the place. Making you get to bed naked.

Oh, Arthur knew you do, because every night, every single one, you let a candle lit to read, or write, or God knows what before sleeping. The light casts your shadow against the tent’s canvas. The shadow of your very much nude body.

The first night Arthur had noticed, he had come back exhausted from a job in the middle of the night and laid on his cot without even taking the time to remove his boots or hat. A very usual and typical slice of his life, which lately felt more and more like a terribly used one. As if all these slices were repeating again and again. An accumulation of jobs and missions and robberies and fights; deceiving, lying, stealing, killing. Over and over again, going round and round. At night, he was reduced to a slumbered mind in a spent body, that was definitely becoming old and rusty. Already half asleep, mud and twigs surrounding his tired limbs, his thoughts all tangled up like a ball of wool, he had turned his head to his left, reaching from instinct for his pack of cigarettes on the little table next to his bed. Another slice of bad habits from a bad life.

That’s how his eyes had met with this quite erotic shape displayed on your tent.

Said eyes had grown so big that it had fully woken him up all of a sudden, as quickly as if someone had dumped a bucket of iced water on his shocked face. After half of a second of pure stabbing surprise and incomprehension with his hand hanged in the air, his breath stuck in his throat as if really being punched in the gut, he instantly turned his eyes back to the ceiling of his own tent. Cheeks burning red, heart pounding, as if someone had caught him in the act of doing a terribly shameful thing. Exactly as if he had really seen you naked.

He had feverishly grabbed the cigarette pack without looking at it, gaze refusing to turn again, these two blue diamonds locked on the ceiling of his tent, and had messily pulled one out of it, his shaky fingers fumbling, almost spilling everything on the ground.

He must have looked so damn ridiculous.

The smoke helped him to calm down, its soothing and comforting feeling spreading and burning through his lungs. He had fallen asleep, turned to the other side facing the wagon, trying not to think too much about the peek of your intimacy he had witnessed, telling himself it probably was going to be an isolated incident.

But of course, of course the Lord had to torment him even in the rare moments of peace he could have enjoyed.

Turns out this was apparently a habit of yours.

To be honest, he probably deserved to be tormented. But this was years from what he had in mind when it came to the Lord's punishment for his life of crimes.

And Arthur, even though a hardened man in many ways, able to lock lips during torture, kill men with bare hands, and stay emotionally strong in any kind of situation, was still only, after all, a man. A man with needs.

Filthy, disgusting needs.

He had tried to resist. Had tried not to let his eyes slip in your direction like that first night. Sometimes he would allow himself a quick glance, just to check if you were wearing any clothes for once, like a normal person. And maybe the night after would be different? Every evening spent at camp, his pupils would end up brushing the sinful silhouette in just a soft, slight sight, as if not to scare you, as if not to feel too bad about it.

But it was getting harder and harder not to stare. The easy lies about just checking on you or looking at anything else in the same area as your tent to have the chance of winning a glimpse of you would soon not be enough.

Just the mere fact that he knew you were completely bare, only a few meters away from him, singly the thin and superficial fabric of the tent between the both of you, was getting him hard and sweaty, and making his blood boil as a virgin teenage boy would. He could almost physically feel it, like a burning presence in his back when he was sleeping head against the wagon's wall.

The Human mind may be well designed for a lot of things; it forgets an event too hard to carry or can trick you into thinking you're not experiencing any physical pain in extreme situations. But Arthur had learned that it was extremely poorly made when it came to ignoring something. The more he was trying to not think about his unholy urges, the more he ended up being plagued with them. As sure as the seasons always turned in circles, you would come back to his effusive psyche.

And Oh, he was ashamed. Ashamed and revolted by himself. This was absolutely not in his habits, all the contrary. Yes, he was an old miserable bastard who had killed and plundered. But for God's sake, he had never acted obscene towards a lady before.

But the shame wasn't enough for him to stop. On the nights when the guilt was at its lowest —when the tediousness of his days was nibbling at his patience, he had let his eyes wander to your sinful figure, telling himself that maybe if he did, he could just go on with his night and finally rest. Just a quick taste, not too long.

But it only made things worse. It made him dream of you.

Dream of you stripped, his imagination taking the lead of what the tent’s fabric was preventing him from seeing. Dream of you moaning, taking him so tightly, welcoming him in your warm body and into your arms. Dream of the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, of the sight of your naked body squirming with pleasure. He would now often wake up frustrated and angry, if he had succeeded in sleeping at all, his member hard and throbbing on its own, his heart beating powerfully in his chest as if it had been real. His pants and blanket had even been damped one or two times.

What was he, a fifteen-year-old boy again? He was so angry and mortified by the physical obsession his body was having with you that he was constantly in a foul and fiery mood; bitter with everyone, his tension leaking into every movement and every word he spoke. He started missing targets when shooting, getting even more reckless and hot-headed during jobs, jobs often ending up missed or taken care of negligently, yelling at people when they weren’t fast enough, or clever enough, or silent enough, breaking things, breaking rules. The lack of sleep was making his deadly efficiency fade away, replaced by sloppy and messy gestures, stopping enemies from falling dead at his feet like his lethal skills always did, castrating the only thing that was left of his masculinity.

And yet, he couldn’t stop watching you from afar during the time he was at camp, telling himself he knew, or at least had an idea, of what you looked like without these clothes on; feeling a twisted sensation of pride imagining he was the only one who did. On top of that, your sweet personality and beautiful face weren’t helping him at all with his addiction. Filthy old bastard, stop it- he had to mentally slap himself to prevent staring at you for too long, especially staring at your chest that this goddamn dress you had chosen to wear wasn’t covering at all; or your ass these goddamn pants were fitting way too well.

Tonight, Arthur is avoiding going to bed too early. He knows he would just lay in it waiting for you anyway. Instead, he goes for a walk along Flat Iron Lake’s shores, bringing his journal with him. Two entire pages are already dedicated to your shadow. He had no idea a picture exclusively made of black and white flats on a sheet could have such a powerful erotic effect. Or maybe he is a complete degenerate —which, he is sure, is more and more true.

He has to be honest with himself, he could just go to a hotel, or out of camp for a few days to sleep under the stars, and the matter would be settled.

But he doesn’t want to. Because deep down inside, his urges are winning, making him feel like the most foolish and weakest man alive. He enjoys watching you. He enjoys seeing those forbidden plumped curves cast on this canvas. He feels like you're not leaving him any mercy, pitiless, his days dictated by the wait for his taboo rendez-vous, his nights by your sensual apparitions in his dreams.

He is trapped, you have completely tamed him, and irony of it all, have absolutely no idea you are making him feel like this.

This woman is drivin' me insane.

After a few hours on the cold shore's sand, his fingers only capable of creating quick little sketches and scribbles, his feet lead him back to camp. What a surprise. He finds most of the gang's members already asleep, apart from the ones on guard duty and some late campfire enjoyers talking about life, about love, grief, the future, the past. He briefly nods at them without a word and walks to his private space. He already knows what’s waiting for him there, your tent looking like it’s still illuminated, his thoughts and body avid for it.

No, don’t be a fool, Morgan.

He sits down on his cot. Mumbles to himself orders and curses to try and stay reasonable. Takes off his hat, runs a hand through his hair, sticky with sweat and dirt from his busy day, as all the other ones, as always. Scratches his beard and his ears with a sniff, tells himself he needs to take a swim into that lake. That he’s as dirty on the inside as he’s on the outside. Pulls down his suspenders before stretching his shoulders, a pained groan escaping him. A cigarette joins his lips, a match lights it, and he breathes in slowly. He tries to calm down, focusing once again on this homey feeling it brings him.

But his brows furrows. His lips tighten. He knows he won’t be able to hold on much longer. He needs to sleep properly. Even being the all-mighty Titan he is, he still needs a good night of sleep from time to time to keep the engine of his body turning, and you have kept it from him for days.

He lies to himself promising this is only for his health.

That this is the only way for him to stay focused during the day; the only way to rest properly and be at his best again tomorrow.

That this will be the only time he’ll do that.

His only moment of weakness.

The still-lit cigarette and his good conscience fall to the ground as he lies on his cot, settled on his left side, his right hand already roaming on his lower belly.

His eyes drop on the scene he had fantasized about for what seems like years to him at this point.

Lord have mercy…

Your shadow looks so perfect. He takes his sweet time to notice every detail of it, enjoying to the maximum his sinful behavior, now that he had succumbed to it. How you’re laying on your back, reading your book with your legs crossed. The curvaceous shape of your body looks divine to his insatiable gaze. Your hair messily tangled around your head. The silhouette of your chin and throat making him hungrier than any feast he could have attended. Your belly, rising and falling with your chest and breasts, gives the shadow an organic appearance. Your delicate legs, from the base of your thighs to your calves, to your feet, your toes mindlessly curling as you get lost in your story. And of course, the blurry outline of what was between them…

Damn it.

His hand quickly reaches his belt, unbuckles it, fiddles with his pants, opens them carelessly in an urgent grip. He spits in his palm, lashes out at himself when the desire of it being your wetness instead crosses his mind, and slips it between the buttons of his union suit. It finally wraps around his desperate shaft, gorged with blood, and he wonders if he already had been this hard before.

The moment he feels the pressure of his own fingers around it, he can’t help but sigh deeply through his nose, and has to physically block the groan he was about to let out.

Make no noise, moron.

He bites his lips to stop any other immoral sound from crossing through his mouth. Last thing he needs right now is to get caught. He slowly rubs one languorous time from up to down, then up again, his fingers brushing his swollen head right where he needs to. He instantly knows he won’t last. He had dreamed about this, about you, both during days and nights. His eyes are locked on your tantalizing silhouette, this deiform delicious flesh. Goddess of the night, Queen of his desires.

His hand rubs once again and his muscles tighten. He starts to stroke in a rhythmic pace, his moves are efficient, messy, careless. He masturbates the same way he takes care of himself —quickly, roughly, as if matching his disgust towards his own self. The exact opposite of what he would do to you if he could. This is pure physical relief.

Yes, God, yes…

Your name turns in his mind between blasphemous curses as he pleasures himself, stroking faster and faster, delightful warm sensations spreading through him. Finally. The burning is no longer in his back or mind; it's right there around his erection, flames licking all around it.

He wants to be able to join you there, so badly. He wants to discover the tone of your bare skin in those places you never show to anyone. He wants to whisper sweet things in your ear and you to sigh back, your voice high and softly shaking from pleasure. He wants the lewd intimacy, the shared tension and the electric, exciting touch of two foreign skins discovering each other for the first time. He wants to see your hardening nipples he can only have a glimpse of through the fabric.

He wants to have you, to take you, consume you, all to himself. He wants you to think about him the same way he is now, wants you to come while thinking of him, only him, your mouth to moan, whimper, scream even, all thanks to him.

He wants your hand instead of his, around his cock right now, pressing harder, moving faster.

Yes, yes, jus’ a bit more darlin’… -

A movement from you, a real one, makes his pace slow down and his heart stops, afraid you might have by some sort of divine knowledge understood what was happening. But you’re just shifting in your bed, positioning yourself on your belly with your book open against your pillow, and Arthur’s balls spasm; he now has the most perfect view of your ass, its gorgeous, decadent round and plumped contour making his member twitch in his fist.

Ahh, shit… So god damn perfect…

Pearls of sweat leak from his forehead to his neck. His ears shut close to the outside world, his surroundings completely disappearing. Now, there’s only you and your perfect back beautifully arched ending with your perfect bottom and him, and no one else’s on Earth. His breath is jerky, his entire face completely crimson, his fingers pumping so hard and fast he’s basically fucking his hand —your hand, with those wet and unmistakable noises filling the air.

His breath speeds up as Arthur feels his deliverance coming, blood rushing in his veins. He sees himself behind you grabbing fistfuls of your cheeks, he sees his erection diving deep between them. And it's the last straw. His brows are crunched in an exquisite expression of pure sexual delight, jaws so tensed he’s about to break his teeth, your pleasure-filled voice screaming his name in his head, dragging every sensation out of him. His orgasm hit him with the strength and speed of a thunderstorm, lightning bolts of satisfaction striking every fiber of his body.

Yes! Yesss —Damnit!

He comes hard with a low and throaty growl he forgot to —or couldn't repress, silently repeating your name again and again, his lower lip almost cut open from how hard he had bit himself, an enormous vein on his forehead where sweat covers his skin. His thick, hot cum spills messily in an indecently large amount, the aftermath of having held himself back for so long, leaking on his pants and fingers and staining his cot; a dash of white contrasting with the darkness of what he just did.

He’s praying to the Lord and the Devil, any mystical forces known to man, that nobody had heard his final relief sound, especially not you. It was louder than what he would like to admit.

Shit, so damn good…

Using his black bandana, he roughly cleans himself then tosses it somewhere on the floor, his cock finally softening as he shoves it back under his clothes, balls empty. And it feels good. So good a wave of shame and guilt crashes onto him once more. What a pig he was for jerking off while ogling you. What an old bastard he was to mingle you and his filth. But at the same time, he feels like his muscles are thanking him, his restless flesh satisfied, even though he almost hurt himself with how fast he had stroked, lost in his haze.

His bittersweet and contradictory feelings accompanied him as he took a last glance at your tent before drifting off to sleep, his breathing still a bit raspy as if he had run for hours. You had closed your book and taken the candle between your hands to blow on it, the little flame flickering before fading. And then, darkness.

The curtains falling on the stage at the end of this private decadent act.

Eyelids heavy, Arthur knows he will finally sleep tonight.

But he also knows this isn’t the end of his torments at all; the conflicting thoughts paint his mind just as the sun pierces through the dark ebony clouds of a thunderstorm, creating those abruptly dazing shapes and color, pitch black laced with blinding light.

Never in this life or the Other he will forget the form of your naked body, no matter how wicked he feels. Because when it comes to you and only you, Arthur Morgan is, indeed, a very weak man.

Part II

tagging : @a-court-of-valkyries and @zae-heeyyy

#hello I'm not dead #I hope you'll like this one its a bit filthy #honestly I was inspired by this very specific art piece from the wonderful Attckher if you know you know #Also should I write a little something more in which reader catches Arthur in the act? 🤭#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #pinefic #rdr2 fanfiction

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