#bottoms press conference

[rubysgirl32]

Bottoms Reunion?!?!?

[hooked-on-elvis]

September 4, 1972: Elvis during press conference. It's been 52nd years since the announcement of the Aloha from Hawaii concert (January 14th, 1973).

[satorena]

✮⋆˙ I LUV WHEN WE GET FREAKY ON CAMERA !?

featuring. g. satoru, f. toji, g. suguru, n. kento x afab!reader

warnings. cybersex, camgirl!reader, facetiming, onlyfans account, dirty talking, usage of toys, reader wears lingerie, fingering, anal play, consented video taping, feminine pet names, let’s pretend toji has money okay? okay.

rena’s note. big shoutout to my dawgs @screampied ! would’ve suffered a bad writer’s block if not for them <3 ly pooks

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

“yeah baby~ fuck, arch your back just like that—shit!”

you complied to his request, moaning as you arch your back and push your hips backwards, deepening the angle of which your dildo penetrated inside of you.

from your facetime call, you faced the camera and propped your dildo to the wall behind you. you watched as your ass recoiled like waves, flesh bouncing off the wall in hypnotic motions, giving your boyfriend the pov he demanded at the start of this call.

you watched through your laptop screen as your boyfriend held his cock tightly with one hand, his other hand propped at the back of his head. his stomach clenched tightly as he matched your pace with his jerks. your wet squelches filled the atmosphere followed by your moans, arms stretched out to claw at the silk sheets on your bed.

“mmh—fuck baby, wish you were h-here right now,” you whine, bringing your fingertips to your lolled out tongue, coating the digits with your saliva, before slipping them between your thighs to focus on your neglected clit.

drawing figure eights to the bundle of nerves, your cheek smushed against the mattress, face heating and tears streaking down your cheeks.

bottom lip tucked in his teeth, gojo narrows his cerulean eyes to zero in on your figure, the sounds of your creamy pussy rocking back and forth on your dildo, your teary eyes watching him with such want— and fuck if he doesn’t wish this conference meeting overseas would end so he could blow your back out.

“i know, ‘m sorry— hah, princess,” he whines, thumbing his leaking slit as the hand behind his hair starts to grip at his own locks. the stinging feeling reminded him of you and it only turned him on further.

“just a f—few more days, yeah? and i’m all yours, promise baby, wait out for me,” he prods further, upset at the fact he has to reach out to you virtually. even behind the low quality of your camera, you shone like an angel sent from heaven, lashes wet with tears and your lips glistening from your smeared gloss.

you nod your head, before fluttering your eyes close as your gut begins to coil. your limbs grow hot and limp, toes curling and you up the pace of your rocking, the drag of the customized silicone dildo against your velvety walls stretching you in ways that reminded you an awful lot of your boyfriend.

“toru—fuck, i’m cumming!” you arch your back deeper, chest pressed flat against the mattress, fingernails scratching the softness of your sheets.

gojo had been on the brink of an orgasm eons ago, but he held back for you. to him, nothing beat busting a nut at the same time you did. his snowy white hair matted to his forehead, cheeks flushed a pretty red as he now focuses on his stiff cock with two firm hands.

he mimics circular motions you usually do, fighting to keep his eyes open as his orgasm washes over him just from the sight of your cries alone. your body shudders, your own orgasm washing over you from head to toe as you mewl out his name, spraying your juices all over the wall behind you and down your plush thighs.

your back arches outwards and you’re drooling all over yourself but gojo doesn’t think he’s seen anything prettier in his entire life.

“shit—oh fuck, cum for me princess, make a mess all over—ngh, yourself for me—my perfect fuckin’ girl.”

𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

“welcome back everyone~”

there was something terribly sinful in the way the girl currently clothed in skimpy lingerie, fingers rubbing at her pussy in lazy circles with a dildo to her lips, tip of the toy teasingly grazing at her pink tongue—was also the same girl toji paid money to babysit his kid whenever he was away at work.

toji was no good man. this was definitely wrong on many personal levels, but alas he was still a man, if the way his dick hardened painfully quick at the sound of your honeyed voice alone.

he shifts in his chair, leaning back into it as he palms his hard on through his sweats. he watches with narrowed green orbs as you finally swallow the silicone toy down your throat, the dildo lubed in your saliva whenever it came out of contact from your mouth.

“wishin’ it was your fat cock instead, mmh,” you swirl your tongue around the dildo, before arriving to the tip and latching your plump lips around it.

you simultaneously increase the speed at your folds, fingers soon growing sticky with your essence as the obscene wetness fills the room. you moan around the toy, spreading your lips for the camera while clenching around nothing.

dick long freed from his pants and tucked tightly in his fist, toji groans as he watches your pretty pussy flutter and basically beg for him to fill you up. he hacks up some spit and drips it down on his girthy length, before roughly going back to jerking at his dick.

“i wonder which one of my lucky viewers is gonna get to fuck me next live?” you breathlessly giggle, before lowering the dildo in your free hand to your gaping cunt.

your comments flood with praises and pleasantries, with money flowing in easily—anything to capture your attention and have you notice them. they’re desperate, toji thinks, but realizes he’s definitely no better—hands already moving to donate a much bigger sum than whatever pussydestroyer69 could ever offer you.

“ooh, four bills is a hefty amount,” you tilt your head to the side, your pretty lips stretched in a perfect smile. you giggle when the comments start to insult toji but he’s too far enamoured in the way your free hand now travelled to your breast, groping at the mounds and flicking at your stiff buds.

you return to the regular programming, pressing the tip of your dildo to your cunt, dragging it up and down your wet folds, teasing yourself with your legs spread open for the viewers to see.

“fuck— this feels amazing, mmh, ‘m sooo sensitive,” you whine, applying a small amount of pressure to slightly push the tip in but pull it back out.

this was torturous— your thong pushed to the side to reveal your puffy lips as it leaked your essence. toji let his mind run to how badly he wanted to taste you. he was sure you’d be as sweet as honey, a potent taste on his tongue, and the thought of you face down with your ass up, begging for him to eat you out had his balls tightening with eagerness.

“fuckin’ shit— what a tease.” toji grunts, throwing his head back as he rubs the callouses at his palms against his veiny skin. his hips jerked up in anticipation, feeling his limbs run hot while his thumb circled at his reddened tip.

“y’wanna fuck my gaping pussy? yeah, ‘m all wet and tight just for you— hnng, bet i’d have you cumming quicker than you ever had~” you taunt, and finally push the toy all the way in, moaning at the stretch of the toy at your pussy.

your toes curl and you tighten your hold at your tits, slowly thrusting the dildo in and out of your cunt, the slick sound of the friction enticing toji as he matches your pace, fanged teeth biting down at his bottom lip.

you pout your bottom lip, small whines escaping your throat as you fuck yourself desperately. “feels’good— shit, need you to fuck me daddy!”

call him delusional but he felt you spoke to him and not the rest of these bums, legs opened and pussy clenching down at the dripping toy, as your hips rocked upwards to try and meet the dildo for further pleasure.

the telltale of his dick twitching uncontrollably told he was on the brink of an orgasm, one that has him cursing incessantly and brings sweat to his hairline. he pries his eyes open, refusing to miss out on how your folds get abused by yourself, multitasking between thrusting inside and attacking your clit.

“‘m gonna cum daddy—please lemme cum—ngh!” you plead, and as if some force between the two of you is pulled, you spray your essence all over yourself, slick dripping down your sheets and wetting your lingerie, staining your panties soaked as toji calls out your name, hips bucking into his tight fist as ropes of hot cum are pulled out of him.

“there we go baby—damn, keep creamin’ just like that.”

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔

“c’mon mama—don’t you let up, fuck, keep bouncin’ f’me.”

you whined some more, thighs aching and trembling from your consistent riding mixed with the added stimulation to your rim from your gifted anal plug. behind you was geto’s set up, computer camera propped as your back faced it, with geto seated at the edge of the bed.

hands planted firmly onto his chest, you stabilized yourself as you continued to rock your hips, dragging yourself up and down on his inches of dick, feeling his hardness stretch out your walls.

“sugu, ‘s too much— shit, want you to fuck me already!” you moaned, leaning your head downward to his broad shoulders, forehead slippery with sweat.

geto chuckled at your neediness, clicking his tongue as he lands a firm slap to your reddened ass. you all but moaned, hips moving back and forth as you clenched your mounds around his cock.

“but baby,” geto complains mockingly, slipping his hand in between your bodies and thumbing at your swollen clit. “y’wouldn’t wanna disappoint your fans, would ya?”

as he spoke, he glanced over your shoulder to check the comment section, as it was filled with numerous donations, praises as well as degradations. the more his viewers donated money to him, the quicker the toy plugged in your ass vibrated.

the triple stimulation had your brain gone to mush, your golden spot brutally toyed with as the foreign but pleasurable feeling in your puckered hole stretched it out, added with the circles at your bundle of nerves, sending shivers all throughout your body.

“uhn uhn,” you shake your head, all but against the idea of ruining his live stream simply because you were tired. more than anything, you wanted to cum, even if it had been in the most torturous way you could think of.

“that’s my good girl,” geto presses his lips at the crane of your head. his praise sends tingles in your belly, core licking with heat. his hands find their way to your ass cheeks, groping the soft mounds as encouragement, the actions causing a shift in the toy to be pushed slightly deeper inside of you.

“f-fuck—don’t do that, i’ll cum!” you complain, arching your chest into his, sensitive nipples brushing into his own.

the creamy mess at the base of his cock clearly accessible to the viewers sent a massive amount of money right into geto’s account and straight to your ass, as you jolted into his hold, clinging your arms around his neck.

“holy shit—one thousand?” geto asks breathlessly, followed by immediate more pinging indicating more donations. “you’re a hit baby—they fuckin’ love this pussy. too bad it’s all fuckin’ mine though, hah,”

you’re flattered by it all, and hit with a final wave of confidence before you’re sure the dam in your gut will snap, you push him back to lay on his bed. geto watches you with a cocked brow and smug smile, baby hairs messily framing his flushed skin.

“oh?” he asks, amused by the sudden turn of events. he never lets go of your hips, instead tightening his hold on you as you plant your feet to the mattress.

you hop up and down, his dick nearly slipping by how far up you rode him, with your palms pressed against the plane of his abs. feeling tears build up at your lash line, you moan and wail, dick penetrating deep into your cunt deliciously.

“fuckin’ ride this dick, ‘s all yours mama—shit, gonna make me cum all inside that pretty pussy, mmh. give it all t’me,”

it doesn’t take much between his constant praising, the slickness of your wetness around his cock and the additional vibrations to your ass to have you cumming hard around him. you clamp your walls down, momentarily pausing your riding as you let it take over your entire body.

geto comes through, hips bucking upwards to further your orgasm and you’re sure you momentarily blacked out, eyes rolling to the back of your head as your tongue lolls out of your mouth.

“what a pretty fuckin’ face baby, all mine. goddamn, ‘s too bad your biggest fan won’t get to see it— ain’t that right, satoru?”

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

“k-kento—oh fuck daddy, ‘s so fucking deep!”

his wrist ached as he worked his way up and down his cock, tip throbbing an angry red. he watched himself hold your waist with one grip of his hand, the other propped up to film the lewd scenery, capturing you in all your glory.

nanami maintained a steady focus, pistonning into your cunt at a ruthless pace, a ruthless angle, and judging by the sound of your broken moans, he was thrusting into that spot that had you seeing stars and slurring your words.

on the screen showed you face down with your ass up, hands bind by his tie behind your back, face planted into his bed as he fucked into you passionately. your pussy gripped onto his cock greedily, sucking him in as the ripples of your ass bounced on his pelvis.

“my perfect girl, fuck, keep taking it just like that.” his large hand held at your waist firmly, bottoming out just to pull out all the way to where your lips latched at his tip, coating his dick in your creamy essence.

his hand made it to the top of his shaft, and when the screen presented him an erotic view of both your body fluids— semen, juices, sweat— sticking between both your damp skin, where you lowered yourself on his cock and where he pushed forward to fasten the process, his thumb grazed over his slit tauntingly, the same way he’s seen you done it dozens of times.

it’d never occur to him that watching himself plow into you would turn him on so, but you were so far away and he was immensely turned on.

his button down now unbuttoned, his chest heaved up and down as he panted heavily, sliding his other hand down to cup at his balls, the way you’ve done to him so many times. he winces at the feeling, dick painfully hard as it twitches in his hold.

“holy fuck— my perfect fuckin’ girl, shit.” he groans, narrowing his eyes to focus on the hypnotic sight that had his erection crying impossibly further.

the sight of you unable to do anything but take his dick like the slut you were made to be for him had him curling his feet and thighs tremble rather quickly. your fingers twitched as you begged him to free you, to let you touch him, but all that resorted to was your ass getting slapped for your disobedience.

“behave princess.” nanami warned you while rubbing his hand at the reddened skin, and you whined a ‘m so sorry daddy but obeyed nonetheless, and whatever kink triggered in nanami activated, as he jerked off faster, desperate to chase that release.

in the video, nanami pulled his dick out momentarily, causing you to cry out at your pussy’s emptiness. lowering the camera to your abused cunt, your pink walls gaped and clenched around nothing, practically calling out for him to fill the void. he chuckles behind his phone, before grabbing at his cock and lining himself at your entrance, teasing your folds by dragging his tip up and down before bottoming out again.

“fuckin’ hell, i need you right now,” nanami cussed, wanting nothing more than to feel your warmth around his cock instead of his own hand, to feel you clamp and suck him into your pussy, to have you squirt on his cock and still beg him for more despite your sensitivity.

between the pornographic sight of your cunt clenching down on his cock, your asshole winking at him, the recoil of your ass onto him and the sinful arch of your back, nanami soon painted his fist white in his cum, head thrown back as he was overtaken by an orgasm.

“damn it—shit, just like that princess—keep gripping onto me, gonna fill that pretty pussy full of my cum.”

yes, gojo was the generous donator on geto’s live stream. pervert

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐄 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR HOT COWORKER WANTS TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD, OF COURSE YOU'LL SAY YES !! ❞

✧ pairing: vampire! choso kamo x f!reader

✧ summary: choso kamo is your coworker who seems to hate your guts - even though you're both always stuck working together, but the only reason he does is because he wants nothing more than to eat you up -- blood and all.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, modern au, coworkers to lovers, vampire!choso, vampire bites are an aphrodisiac for both the vampire and the victim, no real dub/con b/c these two are already down bad for the other, mutual pining, scent kink, blood kink, blood sucking from neck / wrist, implied masturbation (m!), oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, implied multiple rounds, swearing, fanart by @ / yume041624

✧ wc: 7,193

It wasn’t as if you weren’t sure your coworker hates you—

 You were sure of it. 

He avoided you like the plague whenever the two of you were working on the same project. He always did his best to reply over email, avoid in person meetings, and he always seemed to get sick whenever the two of you had to greet the client together. But you didn’t know why — you hadn’t done anything to offend him, unless he had mistaken your hello for spitting in his face. And that wasn’t even the worst part. 

The worst part was that he was exactly your type — fucking hot. 

Dark locks tied into a bun with a few strands escaped its binding by the end of the day, his neat nails painted a dark purple that rifled through paperwork, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and lovely, deep eyes that barely had stolen a glance at you but you could spend a millennia exploring—

In summary, you had it bad. 

And he didn’t seem to know — or worse, he knew and he hated it. Or you. 

But maybe something could change today, you flicked a pen up and down between two fingers as you stole a glance at him across the now empty office, the two of you were stuck working overtime on this project for two days now. But he still had managed to avoid you — but not today when you were stuck in the same conference room sorting through boxes of files that your client insisted must be done today. 

You were getting some sleep at a hotel across the street, taking a quick nap and shower before returning, but Choso looked like he hadn’t slept in days. And you didn’t know why. 

You glanced up at him between sorting through boxes, and you saw him adjust his collar, loosening his tie, fabric gripped tightly under white knuckles. His head was hunched over, his expression hidden behind the box in front of him, but you saw a hint of red in his eyes. You bit your lip, now you were worried. 

Maybe for the wrong reasons. 

“Choso, are you okay?” 

No, no, he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t okay after working overtime for two days straight. He wasn’t okay being stuck in this tiny, dimly fluorescent lit conference room reviewing files that would only prove fruitless and a waste of time for all parties, and what made it worse was you—

No, not you, his canines grew, sharp fangs digging into the soft flesh of his bottom lips, 

Blood. 

Your blood. 

The very thing running through your veins and arteries, pumping through every crevice of your body through your heart — crimson stained your insides as it would your skin if pierced or cut — and it was the very thing that Choso wanted more than anything else. 

But no, it couldn’t be anyone else’s — he bit his bottom lip as you stretched, your blouse and hair moving ever so slightly and exposing your neck — it had to be yours. 

He pressed his hand against his face, palm covering the bottom half of his face as he forced himself to avert his gaze from you, all too unaware of his thirst — the very same that pulled his muscles taut and made his mouth water at the thought of you. His face was flushed — that much was for sure, as he felt the heat radiate from his face. 

And he knew one thing for sure — that you were the one who’s blood would taste like the divine personified. But that’s why he had worked so hard to avoid you, to make sure he didn’t spend any time alone with you, lest his logic and sense fail him at once and he ends up with his fangs pressed to the nape of your neck at once. 

No, he had decided he couldn’t do that. There were far too many times he had seen other vampires find partners this way — succumb to the urge — the draw of bloodlust — only for their partner to grow addicted to the pleasure that comes from the bite, and the relationship only fell apart when it was the only thing holding the relationship together. The bite could only do so much, it was an aphrodisiac for both parties, but not a miracle worker — chemistry burns bright and fast, but it could not make love exist if it wasn’t there to begin with. 

And his avoidance of you had made any relationship between the two of you hard to happen — especially when every word you spoke sounded sweet and honeyed from those pretty lips. It didn’t help that he was reserved to begin with, but you made all words fall from his mind with only a glance — so what would a conversation do to him — much less a kiss? 

“Choso, have you reviewed this one yet?” You ask, grabbing a box from his side, “I finished my half so I thought I’d help you finish yours,” 

He shakes his head, “Go ahead. Thank you,” he barely manages through nearly gritted teeth, with barely a glance up — fuck, it didn’t help that you were always so kind, good at your job, and so pretty—

Fuck, the document he held crumpled under his tight grip, he shouldn’t have let it get this bad. Why had he let it get this bad? A few overtime shifts weren’t usually a problem for him — but being stuck with you? It was torture in the highest order — especially since he hadn’t been able to get home to his reserves at home and he had just run dry of the bottles he kept on himself this morning. 

He sees you stretch again, this time your neck, and a heat began to creep on as he watched right over the top of the document he read. 

Oh, he was so fucked. 

You were going to ask him. 

You were going to confront him about why he avoids you. You had made up your mind — you were tired of walking on eggshells without a reason. If you were going to be stuck working with him on future projects, especially with this client, he needed to tell you if this was how it was going to be. 

And yet, you still sat, rereading the same document over and over, as the two of you were almost done wrapping up your work for the night. Choso was placing the last box he finished up away, a sigh stuck in his throat as he got to his feet. 

“I’m going to head home,” he gets to his feet, a sigh on his lips, as he rakes his fingers through his black locks, “do you need help cleaning up?” 

“No, I’m fine,” and he’s grabbing his things, as you bite your lip and stare at the shiny laminate of the conference table in front of you — fuck it, “I did have a question,” as he’s walking by in the doorway of the conference room, as your scramble to your feet, reaching for him, your fingers brushing his shoulder by mistake, and he’s tensing, “sorry, I didn’t mean—“ 

“It’s fine, what’s your question?” His reply is curt but he won’t even turn to face you, his fingers fiddling with the watch on his wrist. You furrow your brow, was it you or was his body shaking? 

“I just wanted to ask you if you had some sort of problem—“ and then his bag clattered against the floor, contents spilling out, as he supported himself against the door frame, slumped against it, as his fingers gripped it. 

You gasped, a quick brush of your fingers to his shoulder again, “Are you ok? Choso?” 

Choso’s head swam — he could barely hear anything — every sound drawn out and garbled, as if he had plunged his head underwater and words were echoing in his ears. He felt his knees buckle under his weight — and he can’t think straight — and for a moment of clarity he realizes why—

Your touch — it was a spark amongst a field of wheat in a dry heat — and it was enough to set his entire body alight. And now—as he barely held himself together, muscles tensed and eyes fluttering — a haze of heat blazing ribbons up his body, and down — right to his cock. 

Fuck. He’s swallowing, his muscles taut, as he tugs at his collar, even the brush of his clothes against his skin enough to drive him to the point of insanity. And it doesn’t help that your scent fills his nose, honeyed and cloying and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing the scarlet gaze would do nothing but elicit a scream. 

“Please leave,” he says through gritted teeth, he can imagine the concern written across your expression, “go—“ 

“I’m not leaving you like this alone,” fuck, you only draw closer, the brush of your fingers against his shoulder enough to have him nearly keening for your touch — he’d nearly do anything you want for one touch, one drop of your blood, but he can’t — he can’t, “do you need water? What do you need?” And you’re helping him sit down on the floor of the conference room, as he clutches his bag to his front, desperate for something put between the two of you. 

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you what I needed, just go,” he’s pleading, head falling back against the wall — his mind is hazy, he can barely think about anything else but you — the way your soft lips are pursed in worry, the way your hands are so gentle against his skin and would feel so good gliding across his body, the way when he saw the multitudes contained within your eyes, but he only wanted to live in the warmth of your loving gaze, “I don’t want to hurt you,” 

The words come as a confession, a last plea for you to leave, but you seemingly only chuckle, furrowing your brow, “how could you hurt me when you’re more terrified than I am?” 

And oh you were so ignorant that you were inches away from a monster — a rabbit in a lion’s den, while you thought of him as a sheep — and his words weren’t enough to convince you, but maybe something else would. 

His eyes flutter open to find your own, and he finds his own reflection in your irises — a blood red reflected back in your lovely gaze, as your mouth falls open, brow wrinkled, and breath caught. 

“I-I-what?” and he sees your confusion written across your face, your fingers shaking as they brush against his cheek. Your touch sets his senses alight, a soft groan as he leans into your hand, his nose brushes against your wrist, and the thrum of your pulse ringing in his ears. His gaze finds yours — half moonshine with how it’s glazed over, “how?” 

And his lips part, when your thumb drags down his cheek, hypnotized and entranced under a spell he didn’t mean to cast. He turns his head so your fingers catch on his lips, parting almost obediently, flashing fangs that has a flicker of confusion swallowed by horror and then consumed by fascination completely. 

“Choso, what is—“ 

“You should go,” he murmurs again, “you can’t give me what you need,” 

And you’re speechless, as if you wonder if you’re seeing what you are — but the longer you stare, the quicker it seems to sink in. You swallow. 

“So you need my—“ and the sentence is cut off seemingly by the absurdity of the situation, as you mutter to yourself, “this can’t be fucking real,” 

“It doesn’t have to be, you can leave right now,” he pants, sweat slipping down his forehead, and you’re still frowning. 

“What will happen to you if I leave?” And he can’t think straight enough to lie, your fingers find his neck, to check his temperature but all it does is drive it higher. 

“Nothing you need to worry about—“ 

“Well, I am worried,” you cut him off, squirming in place, “if you just take some of my blood, will that—“ 

“It’s not just that,” he’s shaking his head, fangs nearly grazing his bottom lip as he sighs, “do you know what your blood will do to me?” His eyes seem to flash, a chill down your spine, “but more importantly worry what it will do to you,” 

And you stiffen, the spell waxing and waning as fickle as the moon never was, and that the thing about humans — you could never count on them to be consistent as all other things were. A beast can be predicted — their moves largely the same, caution put before hurt, but man gained consciousness and lost all reliability. 

And you were no beast, not like him. 

“What would…it do?” Your words are hesitant, carefully chosen, small jumps across stones rather than a leap across a rushing river. 

And he lets the raging white water brush against your skin when his hand cups your chin, leaning closer and letting his breath warm your skin, “To reduce the pain, my bite is like an aphrodisiac,” his thumb rubs back and forth across your cheek, “you won’t be able to stop yourself, and since your blood would do the same to me — I wouldn’t be able to help myself either,” his nose brushes against your cheek, as he leans in to whisper in your ear, “you should go.” 

But you don’t, silence settles over the two of you, until you choose to break it,  “I’m not going anywhere without you.” 

That’s what you had said — but how did that land you here? 

You both walked to your hotel room in silence, his flushed face hidden behind a mask, dead on his feet as he trailed behind you to the room. It was lucky you had a room right across the street from your workplace. You didn’t know what you would have done if you had to stay in the office — the blood would have been hell to scrub off the wood. 

And now here you sat after your shower, hair still damp as you toyed with the edge of your fluffy bathrobe, as you chewed on your lip. What had you gotten yourself into? You listened to his shower run, a sigh on your lips — it was fine. It would be fine. You just stick to the plan. You’d let him drink your blood, and he would lock himself in the bathroom — and you both would ride out your…symptoms alone. 

Fuck, you bury your face in your hands, what the hell are you doing? And that’s when the water stops — the quiet rustle and shuffling of himself in the bathroom makes your heart leap into your throat, as you sit looking down at the floor. 

“Are you okay?” his voice makes you jump even as you expect it, as your head snaps back to look at him. His black hair still wet from his shoulder, long locks clinging to his hair, droplets ran down his bare abs, your eyes following one down right to his happy trail only hidden away by his boxers— 

Fuck. 

He only continues to towel himself off, before grabbing his undershirt to pull it over his torso, as you choose to avert your eyes then — as if him getting dressed was any more scandalous than his shirtless state, “I am, I’m just a little—“ 

“You don’t have to,” and your eyes slide back to him, his face was still significantly ragged, dark bags and fatigue  clung to body worse than the water did — looking more like a corpse than a bloodsucker, “it’s not too late for you to leave—“ 

“No I decided I was going to help, so I’m going to,” you say, and his brow forms the same peaks and valleys he had all day — and you were sure his skin would remember the carvings at this rate, “what?”

“Why do you want to help me?” he mumbles, arms crossed, a distinct flush in his cheeks settling that surely wasn’t just from his shower, “I don’t get it, we barely have spoken—“ 

“We have spoken, our first week,” and his eyes snap to yours, “you may not remember, but you helped me,” and your cheeks burned, squirming in place as you couldn’t quite meet his gaze, “I had messed up on a project, I made a huge mistake on a document, one that could have costed the company a lot of money, and my job,” you murmur, “but you also took responsibility, even though it wasn’t your fault,” 

“I didn’t catch the mistake either, so it was my fault too—“ and you shake your head. 

“It was mostly mine still,” you offer a small smile, “and so if I can help you like this, I want to,” you shift, swallowing as an awkward silence falls over you both that you break, “why did you want to shower first anyway? You were ready to pass out earlier,” 

“I still am,” he admits, and you notice the subtle shake of his hands, “but I figured the shower would make us both feel a little more comfortable, and it helped to…calm me down,” he cleared his throat, and it slowly dawned on you, cheeks burning, “again, are you sure—“

“I’m going to close you off in the bathroom, and we should be able to ride it out — you said you don’t lose control of yourself or become violent,” and he shakes his head, “then it should be fine,” you have him draw closer, his soft steps against the plush carpet fell silent as he sat beside you on the bed. The creak of the bed as he sat on the other side a little awkwardly, “you should be closer,” and he’s nodding, his adam's apple bobbing in his throat. 

“I know, I’m just trying to…prepare,” he gives a shaky sigh, “your scent is—“ he scrubs a hand down his face, “it’s hard for me to be around, especially when we’re so close,” 

“My scent?” And his hand covers the bottom half of his face, turned away, as he murmurs. 

“Your scent is particularly strong — it’s…enticing enough for me to be distracted all day if I don't keep my distance,” and the pieces sink into place. 

“You avoided me at work because of that?” And he nods, as you bite your lip, a small chuckle on your lips, “I thought you hated me,” 

And his head snaps to you, blinking, “I don’t hate you far from it—“ he cuts himself off, his fingers grip the edge of the bed, “I’ve seen you in the office — you’re always so considerate, kind, and you always try to help, even people who don’t deserve it—“ he cuts off, “I don’t want to take advantage of your—“ 

You move closer, his breath hitching as you shrug your robe off your shoulders, leaving only your bra covering your chest, “You do deserve it,” Fuck, he was so close — you could feel the need come off of him in waves, the soft pants of his breath as his eyes fluttered. And you offer your neck to him, brushing your hair away — a silent offer. 

You see him bite his lip out of your periphery, but he’s leaning down, warm breath fans across your skin, as he ran a finger down your neck, “Fuck,” he murmurs, his voice a raspy whisper, “you smell so good,” and you nearly shiver as his lips brush your skin — soft lips against your skin, the barest brush, as if he’s trying to acclimate you to his touch. But it only stoked a fire — the same flame burning even before today, the one that wanted more than a bite at the apple — you wanted him down to his core. 

His lips press another kiss to your neck, lingering longer, as he noses the skin there, and you’re biting your lip, the want bubbling into boiling need, “Please—“ you gasp as his fangs graze your neck now, the sharp points lightly dragging across the muscle, right before his fangs sink into your neck. 

Your lips part, head nearly lolling back into his warm palm cupping the nape of your neck. Any pain only registers for a split second before disappearing under whitehot pleasure. Your blood turns to heady wine straight from his bite, his muffled moan vibrates against you, sending a wave of heat right between your thighs. Your head spins, all logic melts with as the wildfire only consumes — leaving only want behind. 

Coherent thoughts don’t form — instead fractured thoughts spiral into a chant. You want more. You want more of his touch, his body, his words. You want him. 

You want him. 

And when he’s pulling his fangs from your neck, the sound of his teeth pulled from your skin only rings in your ears for a moment, before blood roaring in your ears replaces it. Burning — it felt as if every part of your body was aching, a deep throbbing with no end in sight. You glance at Choso — and only one cure. 

Fuck, his skin looks so lovely when flushed a pretty pink — nearly a scarlet that lit a trail up his neck and across his cheekbones all the way to his ears. The heavy pants that left his lips did little to assuage the desire for him — his defined chest rising and falling with each breath he took, his long jet black locks hanging like a curtain around his gaze. 

Your fingers are reaching for him, “Cho—“ and he’s shaking his head, as his muscles tense, as he leans away from you. 

“Give me a moment,” so you do — you pull back, and he’s rising to his feet, shaky still, but seemingly for a different reason as he turns and flashes the rising tent in his boxers. 

And you press your thighs together, wondering just how big he was — eyes fixed on the growing damp spot on his boxers — how he would shiver when you squee3/ him at the base in your hand, what sounds he would make when you’d flick your tongue against his weeping tip, and how he would moan your name when he sunk into you— 

You were so fucked — if your drenched panties were anything to judge by. 

“Choso, please—“ and he already knows what you’re asking for between the lines of your plea, and his eyes find yours, his dark gaze catches yours, ensnared in the blackhole that only pulls you under and apart, pinned underneath him. 

“It’s just the bite, we can’t,” he’s covering his lips, as he takes steps away from you, towards the bathroom, “we just have to wait until it passes. It won’t take too long—” 

“What if it’s not just your bite? Not for me,” you murmur, and the words are being spilled from your lips like honeyed truth with no bitter aftertaste, “it hasn’t been for me,” his brow is furrowing as if he can’t imagine a single person liking him, “I’ve spent the last year working with you and all i know is I wanted nothing more than to be the one you smile at — the same soft way you do when you your little brother visits you at work,” 

And he’s swallowing, a deeper blush on his cheeks, “you noticed?” 

“I also noticed how you always bring the person you work with their favorite coffee order, the way you try to make others feel valued when the company doesn’t even do it, and how you always do your best — even when it comes at your own expense,” it’s so easy to say these things, but it only makes you long for him more, “let me do more — let me take care of you—“ 

And he’s covering his mouth with his forearm, “do you know what you’re saying?” you slowly get up from the bed, taking careful steps towards him, “our heads are clouded, we aren’t—“ and he swears under his breath but he doesn’t resist your approach, the bathroom door right behind him, “I don’t want to hurt you—“ 

“Do you feel the same for me?” and his gaze softens as he meets yours, “because I get the feeling you do — at least you like my scent,” a smile tugs at the corner of your mouth, “hopefully not just my scent?” 

And you didn’t know it was possible for a vampire to be this pink in the face, but Choso was — and you weren’t sure if it was your words or your closeness, “It’s not just your scent,” he’s mumbling against his arm until he’s pulling it away, to reveal his lips colored a faint scarlet from your blood, “I have feelings for you — I have for a while,” 

God, he was fun to tease, “What’s a while?” you’re murmuring, his lips part, flashing his fangs while he does. His eyes avert from your face, only to land on your neck, grazing over the bite mark he left, and you decide to spare him, “but if it’s been a while for you and for me, then—” he’s shivering again, a sigh caught in his throat, muscles tensed as if he was a tiger ready to pounce. 

“It’ll be hard to stop once we start — we should think—“ your fingertips brush his cheek, his eyes falling shut at your touch, the want inside you only grew, as you felt him lean into you. 

“Who said we’re going to stop?” and he breaks, his hand is sliding around your waist, tugging you closer, his lips brushing against your ear, his words nearly muttered against it. 

“Are you sure?” 

“I am—” and that’s all he needed. 

In a flash you’re pinned on the bed, blinking as you glance at the spinning ceiling fan for a moment before he’s leaning over you. 

His eyes are tinted with red and laced with desperation, fangs flashing as his fingers cup your chin and he leans down, “I’ll show you how much I like you, pretty girl.” 

“Oh, Cho-so,” your arms are wrapped around his torso, pulling him impossibly closer, his hot tongue dragging up the side of your neck, licking at the rivers of blood dripping down, “fuck, please—“ 

“Can’t waste a single drop, not when you taste so good,” he’s murmuring, nearly hypnotized by your taste — his sticky saliva and your blood mixed together, “fuck, I could kiss every inch of you and it wouldn’t be enough,” 

“Please, I need more,” and he’s chuckling, nibbling at the base of your neck, a whine parting your lips that made him nearly bust a nut then and there, “please—“ 

And his lips find yours in a searing kiss, fangs lightly biting your bottom lip, swallowing your gasps with a smirk, and how is it possible your lips are even sweeter? It was as if you were made of molasses, and he was more than happy to indulge. He parts your lips, dragging a thumb down your kiss bitten lips, your saliva clinging to his skin. 

“You know how long I wanted this? Had to touch myself in the shower to stop myself from pinning you the moment we entered the room,” he murmurs, recalling how his fingers had reached for his cock, already nearly covered in pre, his thumb running across his slit was nearly enough to make him burst. But it paled in comparison to the sight of you, disheveled under him, eyes glazed over with pleasure, chest rising and falling fast, and your lips nearly begging him to kiss you again and again, “and now I want to take my time, love,” but he doesn’t, instead he bends down again, to nip and suck marks all over your skin, savoring the drops of blood he steals from each one — a constellation dotting your neck and collarbone to remind anyone that you were his. And his fingers find yours, just as he was yours. 

And you whimper, as he kisses his way down your arm, sweet pecks dotting down, until he reaches your wrist. He noses it, feeling the rush of your pulse underneath your skin, the sweet scent of your blood clouded his mind, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin, as he flashes a gaze upward for your silent permission. You nod. 

Your nod was all he needed, before his fangs sinks into your wrist. It was potent — you were potent rather — he had grown used to his normal supply of blood, blood that he had acquired through the proper channels, and though it quenched his thirst, it never satisfied it. 

You were more than satisfaction itself — you were ecstasy incarnate, and he was utterly addicted from the moment he had his lips pressed against your lovely skin. Scarlet dripped from the bite and the corners of his mouth — the blood flooded his mouth, an unending pool of need that only grew with each second. 

And as he pulled away, blood dripping from his lips, he watched your eyes flutter open, legs spread for him, as he licked his lips clean. 

“Such a waste to let even a single drop go,” he drags his tongue up the rivulets of blood that ran down your wrist, and a whimper escapes your lips, and his lips curl, “what do you want, love? Tell me,” 

And you’re biting your lip, averting your gaze, but he’s guiding it back to his, “Choso, please, I need you to touch me,” you cover your mouth with the back of your hand, cheeks burning, “please—“ 

He pulls your hand away, and kisses your lips again in a bruising kiss, before he’s pressing sweet kisses down your body, easing the straps of your bra down. He kisses the swell of your breasts, one after the other, making you squirm in place.

“Pretty girl,” he’s murmuring, his lips kissing each one of your erect nipples, caught in a thick haze of lust, “so good for me,” and he’s lighting a trail of kisses down your body, and he’s resisting the urge to mark up every inch of you — no, there would be time for that later, his eyes flicking up to meet your half lidded gaze, “gonna be good for me?” His skillful fingers slide under the elastic of your panties, snapping the fabric against you, making you gasp, “either way, I might just eat you up,” 

A shaky chuckle escapes your lips, “Promise?” And he chuckles, as he’s spreading your lips, leaning down to press a hot kiss to your inner thigh. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” his teeth graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, before running over the mark with his tongue, before his fingers are running over your drenched panties, and it takes everything in him not to sink his fangs into your plush thigh, but no — he’s carefully tugging down your underwear down your legs — he had to stay focused. 

His breath catches at the sight of your dripping cunt and swollen clit, glistening with your juices that told him just how much you wanted this — and it was enough to nearly have him cumming in his boxers. And then the sweet scent of your precum becomes too much for him—

And he can’t wait. 

His tongue flicks against your clit, making a squeal escape your lips, fingers finding purchase in the long strands. It’s too good — judging by the way your hips nearly rut into his lips, while your own moans his name. But it was even better for him, as he groans against your pussy, licking the pre sticking to his lips. 

“How do you taste so good? Sweetest thing I’ve tasted, as good as every part of you,” 

You gasp when his fingers spread your folds, “Cho—“ and he’s circling a tip of one of his lithe fingers around your entrance teasingly. 

He hums lightly, “Can’t decide whether I want to use my fingers or my mouth, love,” he murmurs in contemplation, whilst his tongue teases your needy clit, “what do you think, baby?” 

“I need you—anything—“ and he’s licking a stripe up your sweet pussy, before he’s sinking a finger into your fluttering walls, “Choso—fuck—“ and the wet squelch of your cunt and the feel of your fluttering walls around his digit makes his dick twitch in his boxers, “s’good,” 

And you’re melting into his touch, your juices soaking his fingers and wrist as he fucks you with his finger, knuckle deep in your warm walls, rubbing at your clit with his thumb. 

And you’re so sensitive, every move of his finger has your walls squeezing him tight, his other hand sneaking into his boxers to palm at his erection, “Cho, I need more—“ and he’s adding a second finger to the first, fucking you deep until he finds that spot — and that’s enough for you to fall apart. 

You cum, back arching as you do, stars bursting behind closed eyes, as you moan his name. He’s fucking you through your orgasm, walls fluttering around his fingers, thighs tensing around his hand. You come down from your high, chest nearly heaving from your pants, as he eases his fingers from your pussy. A soft sigh leaving your throat as your cunt flutters around nothing. 

Your eyes flutter open to see Choso licking his fingers clean — still sticky with your release — fangs flashing with the part of his lips, and you shiver at the sight. He’s leaning back down, pressing kisses to your thighs, before his tongue drags up your leaking pussy, making you gasp. 

“Please, Choso—fuck—“ and he’s smirking, glancing up with lips glossy with your release, placing a chaste kiss to your puffy clit, your eyes falling to his hand palming his boxers, “let me touch you—“ 

“Not yet, baby,” his tongue circles your slit, circles growing faster before sinking into your insides, nose bumping against your swollen clit, as he laps at your messy slit, “not until I’ve swallows every drop of you,” his fangs pinch at your clit. 

It’s already too much for you — your second orgasm sneaks up on you — a coil wound tight as he slurps and sucks at your cunt, all too eager to taste every last drop. And oh, he does — until he uses his thumb to rub at your clit, and it’s too much—

You squirt all over his face, soaking his face and fingers with your release, his lips more than eager to lap up every drop of it. Even as he pulls away, your cum is dripping down his chin, his dark eyes lidded as he looks up at you. 

And he can’t wait anymore—he needs to sink his dick into you. He’s licking his chin clean, pussydrunk on your cum, as he smashes lips to yours. Your moan is stifled as you taste yourself on his lips, tongue sneaking into your mouth as you part them for him. You hear the shift of the sheets as he tugs his boxers down, pulling his lips away only to finish kicking them off. 

But that’s not what you were looking at. 

Fuck, he was huge — his engorged tip was a deep red, large pearly beads of precum dripping down, while the rest of him was flushed a lovely pink. The veins that went along his length made gou tempted to trace them, mapping out his cock until you remembered every inch. You were hypnotized as your fingers reached for him, thumb flicking against his slit, before grasping at his base. 

He gasps, head lolling back, as you spread the pre along his length, beginning to pump him, “Fuck, so good for me, baby,” he’s covering his lips, cheeks flushed to match his cock, “please, I won’t last—“ and he nearly blows his load when your mouth sucks at the tip, before sliding his dick past your lips. your tongue tracing along the veins.

And a whine leaves his throat, as you start to bob along his length, spit and precum dripping down the corners of your mouth as you messily sucked at him. His hips jerk, as his fingers thread into your hair, tip brushing against his throat, it’s almost too much. 

He’s easing you off his cock with a tug of your hair, your lips parting with a pop, strings of saliva and precum connecting your mouth to his dick. And god, he wants nothing more then to pump his cock and let him spill all over your face. 

But no, no, he rather spill inside you. 

In an instant he’s gotten you onto your back,  the head of his cock brushing against your dripping cunt. He’s dragging the head of his dick against your dripping folds teasingly, making you squirm. 

“Please,” you’re whining, drawing a soft chuckle from him, as he’s lining himself up, groaning in unison as his tip bumps against your slit, “fuck, Choso, I need you—“ 

And he obliges, sinking into you inch by inch, a grunt from his mouth, “Already trying to swallow me whole, love? No need for that — I’m already giving it to you,” the delicious stretch of your warm walls pull him in deeper, stretching as he works himself inside your cunt, “so tight, baby,” and he’s finally bottoming out — cock twitching against your sweet cunt. 

He’s reaching places you didn’t think were possible, his 

You were far too tempting, “Please, Cho, please move—“ your words cut off with a gasp as his lips against your neck again, fangs piercing your skin as he bites you, right as he starts to slowly fuck into you. 

White hot pleasure rips up your spine — the bite and the way his cock fucks you enough for you to already cum around him, your mouth parted in moans, as your walls clamp down on him. He’s sucking greedily at your blood, and he wasn’t sure what was better, the way your sweet blood tasted against his tongue, or the way your release squelched around his dick, as he fucked it. And he barely registers that his cock is growing larger against your spasming pussy, but you sure do, as you moan his name. 

“S’big, Choso, too big,” you’re whining, as his hand presses against your lower half only to feel a slight bulge, and he only makes him want to thrust harder, too far gone to think — only one thought circling the drain of his pin sized perspective — that he wanted to fill you up, 

“Cho-so, please—“ and he doesn’t know what you’re asking him, to slow down or to go faster, as he pulls his fangs from you. And he could cum just looking at you — your forehead slick with sweat, while scarlet rivulets of your blood ran down the side of your neck, eyes blown out in such lust — and everything about your body begging him to fuck you more.  

“S’pretty for me, baby,” as he fucks you through your orgasm, another building in its place, as he watches his cock piston in and out of your fluttering cunt. And it feels too fucking good. And he’s leaning back down to lick up the blood staining your neck, as he gives a particular hard thrust that has you seeing stars, and he knows you’re close—and he knows he won’t last much longer — not with the way your vice grip cunt is squeezing around him. 

But you’re confirming it with your moans, filling his ears along with the lewd noises of skin slapping together, “I’m close—I’m—“ and he’s grunting in agreement, as his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, only to pull a breath away to ask: 

“Where?” And the flutter of your walls that pulls him impossibly deeper tells him the answer, but you reply with words as well.  

“Inside, please, need to feel you fill me—“ you cum then and there, words cut off with a moan of his name, and he’s fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts stutter as he grows close, before groaning and pressing another kiss to your lips, biting your bottom lip to draw blood, as he spills inside you, painting your insides with his hot release, fucking it inside you as his hips slow. 

He’s pulling away from your lips, pulling himself from inside you, a soft gasp leaving your lips, as he moans himself when he watches his seed mixed with your cum slip from your pussy. 

He’s caressing you, pressing sweet kisses to your face and neck, your quiet pants filling his ears like a metronome. 

“Are you okay?” he murmurs, and your eyes flutter open, lips curling slightly as you nod, a sigh on your lips. 

“I’m more than okay,” you press your lips to his again, a sweet kiss that grows more insistent as your tongue drags against the seam of his lips, before you hear a wet squelch, and your eyes open darting down to only find him stroking his cock, “Choso, are you—“ 

“Mm, the effect of your blood hasn’t quite subsided for me,” he murmurs, “but I think I can take care of it with—“ and he’s flipped onto his back, eyes blinking up as you, sitting on top of him. 

And he sees the blatant want in your gaze, as you begin to lower yourself onto his dick, a smile pulling at your lips, as your lust pulled him under and his cock inside you. 

“I told you I’d take care of you, Choso,” and you offer your neck to him again, dragging your wrist across his face, “so let me.” 

“You’ll be working with Choso again on this project,” you have to bite back your smile, when you nod, “the two of you did a good job on the last one. Thank you for the overtime you put in. It did not go unnoticed,” 

“No problem, sir, anything for the job,” and your supervisor smiles, as you turn to leave, “I’m sure Choso would say the same,” 

“The two of you make a good team. I may pair you two together more often. Is that okay? I’ll have to run it by Choso, of course,” and you nod, hand already on the door knob. 

“I’m sure he would be more than okay with that, sir.” 

“Ah, baby, please just one bite?” Choso’s got you pressed up against the conference room door, “spending all day at work with you makes me so needy,” he mumbles against your skin, as he’s already unbuttoning your button up, the shirt already creased with he’s tugging it free from your slacks, “please,” 

“Cho, you had one this morning, it’s barely lunchtime, and you’re this desperate—” and he’s grinding his tenting erection against your clothed cunt, and your hand barely is able to make it in time to stifle your moan with your fingers, “fuck, fine, one bite, but don’t make a mess, this is a white blouse, babe—” 

He’s already tugging down your shirt, wrapping his arms around his middle, as his red tinted gaze meets yours in the shaded drawn window of the conference door. And now you were sure — your coworker loved you, even when you thought he didn’t.  

“Don’t worry, love, I won’t spill a drop.” 

✧ a/n: this fic was weirdly hard to write. i was very stuck for a while. i couldn't figure out how to write it even though the idea struck me. but i hope you all enjoy <3 thank you for @laneysmusings and @gaylatteart for betaing and being the best moral support <3

✧ taglist: @yourwaifuhatesyou, @cira273, @kakashineedstotouchgrass, @whereismysane, @kaedeolgy, @keirangoldenwatch, @indieotterxoxo, @mua-for-now, @b3llair3, @evieslook, @shervinss, @saltymeow77, @svt-backup, @dazailover1900, @kentocalls, @yamaguccitadashi, @simply-a-s1mp, @rita-ritarita, @gorepain, @jupisloveletterz, @ice-echo26, @lemonpoppy-seed, @turtletaubwrites, @complexivelovely, @tiramatsumu, @strangehuman101, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @adrenova, @chosoitos, @stonecoldsensitive, @flyingtranscatofeffed, @sunamatic, @maetziniscool, @muichirosbestie, @monstrousbuu, @spider-fan72, @nakariabnrb, @petalshxwer, @talkativetranscendant, @fairyxgothic, @jupisloveletterz, @crystalkat6747, @unorthodoxfaithxx, @hotcocokiss, @angstigone, @sunnykento, @dantaku

[peachtvs]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ❛ WHERE WHEN NOW !? ❜ ft. vi

✰ sum. even when strategizing for battle, vi's hands always wander onto you. doesn't matter if you're in the middle of the conference room. ✰ warnings: switch leaning top!vi, fem!afab!reader, fucking in the conference room, oral (r!receiving and giving), fingering (r!receiving), pet names (princess, etc.), minor overstimulation (r!receiving) wc. 2.4k ✰ mlist.

vi is such a giver.

and she'll give it to you wherever she wants.

the two of you are in the middle of the meeting room over at the enforcers' main building, staying up late into the night figuring out the next plans for piltover's safety, for battle, for future weapons. it’s a tense conversation, the decisions you two make at this table dictate the future and safety of the city. you fiddle with your pen, resting your chin onto your palm as you squint down at the map, deciding where the new divisions of enforcers should be placed for watch when vi stands up to get a better view of the entire map.

vi is streetsmart, of course. shes been in fights time and time again since her early childhood. shes one to know when to lock in. and yet, the moment vi's stands up, instead of piltover her eyes wander to a different area, trailing to the cleavage peeking through your tank top. you're still talking too, but she's not processing any of it. the way your hair's all messy, how your hand comes up to brush strands behind your ear, how you exhale deeply like you're stressed out, and god, does she wanna relieve some of your tension.

it's not until you ask her a question and she doesn't answer do you realize how distracted shes been. you lift your chin to look up at her to see what could be distracting ber so much, and the moment you do vi's already pressing her lips against yours. your protests don’t even make it past your lips as her hand slides up from your shoulder, skimming tentatively to the side of your neck before she cups your jaw. you're barely even processing the kiss, let alone when her tongue slips between your lips—tasting every corner of your mouth and cutting off any train of thought you’ve ever had.

you close your eyes in response, kissing her back, and that only fuels the fire even more. she drags you up and out of your chair, falling onto it's side on the floor. it's not like either of you care though. not when vi's ice cold hands slip under your shirt, causing you to gasp softly with the tips of her fingers dipping into the bare skin of your waist—the little noise peeping out of you only having her laugh breathlessly in response.

"something wrong, princess?" she pulls away from you momentarily, and your entire face is flushed a burning red.

"you're insatiable, vi. we're in the middle of the conference room, what if someone comes in?" your worries only fall on deaf ears, the her hands now sliding to your lower back, making their way down to squeeze a handful of your ass.

"so what if they do? we're busy, babe. they'll know not to walk in when they hear you through the door." you're not even able to protest before vi leans into the side of your neck, her tongue swirling against your skin and sucking mark after mark as she trails down your body. she quickly grabs the bottom hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head like it's the most natural thing in the world to her. and to you, it really was. it's almost in her blood how smoothly she continues down to your collarbone, nipping the skin lightly with her teeth as your head falls back, gripping into her wife-beater as you moan out her name—the fabric pulling between your fingers. you always sounded so pretty.

soon, her lips meet the clevage of your breasts. her breath tickles against the sensitive skin, and vi doesn't wait until shes closing her mouth hungrily around your nipple. her tongue swirls the sensitive bud, biting it and following with a kiss on your bud as some form of an apology. your hands come down to tangle into her hair, pushing her closer, just begging for more. and god does she give you it.

vi's freehand snakes up the side of your waist, roughly grabbing your tit into her palm as she her thumb and index come to tease your nipple. you feel a warmth pool between your thighs, a whine slipping past your lips as you're pulling her hair in for more. vi's tongue works magic, coming off your right tit with a pop—saliva connecting her to your supple skin before she moves to the other side. vi's rougher this time. squeezing and tugging at your nipple on one of your breasts as her mouth eats the other like it's candy.

"fuck, you taste so good." her voice is hoarse, a clear strain in it that has butterflies whirling up inside of you with her husky tone. vi doesn't waste a moment, standing up straight and quickly undoing the buckle on her pants. you move onto your knees, and she smirks.

"what a good girl," she eggs on, "you wanna please me?" you nod almost feverishly, and vi leans back against the edge of the table while you kneel right in front of her. your hands slip into the hem of her pants, pulling them off from her hips and down her thighs with her underwear. vi's hand makes it's way onto your head, petting the hair gently before her grip tightens and pushes you closer to her.

you're such a fox with it, too. your eyes stay locked with hers, looking up so prettily as you close your lips around her clit with a hard suck. vi curses under her breath, her eyebrows knitting together as her grip on your hair only tightens, holding you in place. you press your tongue into her, that sweet salty taste on your buds driving you crazy as you start to eat her out.

your hands slide up her thighs, holding her hips as your eyes close, moaning when you flatten your tongue and drag it all the way up with just the right amount of pressure that has vi's head falling back. you look up, and by god the view is straight out of heaven. her fingers tangled in your hair, the definition of her neck excentuating as she leans it back, the breathless string of curses falling off the tip of her tongue. you can't help but fall in love with your girlfriend once again.

you go back down on her without a moment to waste, your tongue flicking against her harshly as a heavy blush fades over her face. you were always attuned with each other's bodies, whether it be in caring for the other in sickness, or if it was you eating her out like there was no tomorrow. your tongue speeds up against her, lips closing around her clit and sucking the bud into your mouth. she's so fucking wet, the mixture of your saliva and her slick dripping down her thighs and rubbing all down your chin and the sides of your cheeks. your hands slide down from their hold on her hips, resting onto her upper thighs as you feel the muscles in her quads tense up each time you flick your tongue against her once more. you can’t help but get so into it, your grip on her increasing until the pads of your fingers dip into her thighs, your tongue latching onto her with a moan. vi is loving it too. you feel her grip waver on your head by the second, flatering as you eat her out like it’s no tomorrow all while keeping your gaze locked into her pretty face just as she taught you. vi scoots back on the table even further, her thighs slightly spreading as she pushes you even closer to her. you hum in response, not stopping for a moment to take a breath. she mutters out a shaky ‘fuck, princess’ once more as you feel her quads tense up a little.

"shit, baby. i'm so close." she looks back down to you, her eyes clouded over as her pupils dialate when her gaze locks onto your face. you smile, dragging your mouth up her once again as the tip of your tongue flicks quickly around her clit, leaning into her pussy with an opened-mouth kiss. vi's freehand quickly grabs your head as well, both hands now pushing you into her as her breathing becomes staggered. vi’s fingers tighten their grip in your hair, and you continue working your tongue when she suddenly tenses her thighs around your head, pressing against your ears as her head falls back once more and her breathing quickens. she seems to hold her breath for a second, before that familiar build up snaps inside her and her breath wavers, heaving—a pool of wetness suddenly sloshing messily onto your tongue. you slow down your pace, vi pulling your head back as she leans down to grab the nape of your neck and pull you up to your feet. her lips slam right against yours, kissing you passionately as both her hands push your pants off of your hips. vi moves with such vigour, and before you know it, she pushes you down and lays you flat on the conference table as her forearms lift the underside of your knees to adjust your hips as she stands between your legs.

vi's eyes trail around your heaving form, all sprawled out so wonderfully—spread out and ready for her, completely bare just for her eyes to pick apart and her hands to please. you feel vi's fingers press against your hole before pulling back slowly as she watches your slick stick to her fingers. suddenly, she dips two fingers between your slit, rubbing upward and flicking the underside of your clit as your body squirms in response.

vi's freehand slides up between your breasts, resting on your neck as she hold's you down firmly with a wink. before you can even say anything two large fingers push in slowly, sinking into your cunt with that familiar stretch as she scissors her way through your soft walls. you buck your hips into her, whining as she pulls her fingers out only to push them back in a little quicker. by this point, you're reduced purely into a series of desperate moans. vi's thumb swirls around your clit, pressing down just right as her ring and middle fingers pick up speed and start to pound into you. you tighten around her quickly, arching your back off the table with a pap pap pap of your wetness dripping between your thighs—making a mess out of your pussy, the table, and vi's forearm.

none of that seems to put her off though, quite the opposite. vi quickly kneels down, her freehand pressing down onto your womb as her lips close around your clit. you almost scream out her name, slapping a hand over your mouth as her fingers curl upwards inside you before dragging out, just to slam back in not even a second later. the pace vi's chosen to fingerfuck you with seems almost hateful, a thought that's completely washed away with how she starts to lap at your sloppy pussy like it's the best meal she's had in years. your hand grips the edge of the table, moans falling out of your lips without a thought behind it. and how could you even think anything at all? not when vi slowly eases a third finger into your cunt, her tongue flicking against your clit as the palm of her other hand dips into the flesh of your stomach to hold your hips down exactly where she wants. you almost feel like your mind is falling apart by now, completely overtaken by vi's assault on your poor, poor pussy.

as vi feels you finally adjust to her by the tiniest bit, her pace speeds up once more. she stands up, twisting her fingers inside of you so that the heel of her palm slaps against your clit each time her fingers bottom out. the sounds reverberating throughout the room are sinful, your moans bouncing off the walls like a mantra, only to be suddenly eaten up when vi leans down to kiss you feverishly. by this point, you don't even know if this can classify as a kiss anymore. vi's tongue drags right against your lips, pushing past your lips and muffled moans as shes tasting you for the nth time tonight. I

but just because shes pressing her tongue into your mouth doesn't mean shes forgotten about her pussy yet. vi's fingers only speed up each time she notices you trying to swirl your tongue back against hers, because ???, you shouldn't even have the brain to know your own name right now.

her fingers twist and pull out, slamming back in over and over as she nudges right against the spot deep inside that has you whining out with each curl of her hand. vi feels a sudden pool of wetness start to splash out of you, your pussy tightening up around her fingers so much that she starts to use the force of her bicep to continue pushing back into your sloppy cunt.

"vi—fuck, vi. i'm so close." truth be told, you don't even know if you were able to formulate those words out of your head and past your lips. luckily for you, vi only smirks in response, her fingers suddenly increasing it's pace as her freehand comes down to rub firm circles into your clit.

"cum then." just as you hear those two magic words, your hips start to tremble and you cry out, shifting your hips which vi quickly holds down with a firm grip. you feel that familar build of warmth deep inside your pussy, your body trembling before you finally come to your high and snap. you let out a strangled moan, your hips rocking into her hand as vi continues to fuck you through your orgasm. and yet even as you’ve ridden out your climax, she doesn’t let up.

you shakily move your hand down to her wrist, struggling and whining desperately about how it’s foo much. vi gives a particularly harsh clit on your clit in response, your hand pushing her away faltering, while her three fingers nestled in your pussy scissor and curl up like they're trying to rearrange your womb. your jaw drops as you throw your head back, overstimulated beyond belief when you suddenly feel a strange warmth build up once again. before you can even process what was happening it quickly builds up and you squirt all over vi’s forearm by the next second. you think you hear vi say something, but you don't even have half of a mind to be able to tell the color of the ceiling at this point. gently, her fingers slow down, pulling out of your cunt as she cups your pussy and rubs your labia almost comfortingly.

"you still with me, princess?" vi leans over you, noticing the second her touch finally leaves your pussy you go limp right onto the table.

"you are a demon" you smile shakily, your hands coming up to cover your face as your squeeze your thighs together, still trembling in the aftershocks of your orgasm. vi only scoffs in response, amused as she presses a comforting kiss against your forehead.

"you know it."

You're watching...

© PeachTVs 2024

[shigarosie]

"Move the phone Tsuki," you whimper. "Can't see you face."

"Sorry," he mutters, moving the phone slightly off to the side but still pointed at you. "Trying to keep you in frame."

"This is so embarrassing," you whine, shoving your hands up over your face.

"Shut up," he says. There's no real malice behind it, just subtle annoyance. "And move your hands. You look hot."

"Promise?"

"Yeah. Why d'you think I wanted to film you, huh?"

Another whimper slips past your lips and you try to forget the camera pointed at your face, zoning in on Tsukishima's cock stroking in and out of you. It's casual, practiced, second nature at this point. He's not fucking you hard, that would make the video shaky. But it was good. Comfortable. He knew you, inside and out. You've spent every single night together for the past year and a half that you've lived together, but soon the streak would be broken as Tsuki would be traveling overseas for an archeology conference. Hence his request for a video- a request you suspect he'd been searching for an excuse to make for some time.

"Fucking pretty," he mumbles, his gaze flickering back and forth from screen to face. "Gonna miss making you make those faces while I'm gone."

"How am I gonna cum when you're gone?" You ask sincerely, a pout forming at the mere thought. "My fingers aren't the same as yours. My toys don't feel like you."

"Fuck," he whispers, taking a moment to adjust his hips before he starts fucking you at a different angle. It makes you squeal a bit, reaching out and grasping for his forearm as it grips one of your thighs. "You can't cum without me? Huh? You need my cock?"

"Yeah," you gasp, forgetting all about the camera pointed at you. He's been teasing you this whole time, avoiding the spot inside you that really gets you to the edge. "Need it so bad. Think about it all the time- fuck, Tsuki, just like that!"

"Gonna cum? Make it pretty for me baby, you know I'm gonna watch this over and over when I'm gone."

Tsuki keeps up the pace you like, giving you what you want to see satisfaction across your features. His pelvis grinds against you with every thrust, pressing against your clit and coating himself in your slick.

You don't have to try very hard to give him what he likes; a gasp and a whine as you look him in the eyes while you cum. He moves his phone so the camera's just under his eyes, so that when he watches it back later it still feels like you're making eye contact with him.

"Fuck, Keiiii," you squeal, riding out the pleasure as it pulses through you. Your pussy clenches around him, squeezing and relaxing with the throbbing of your orgasm.

"Fuck," Tsuki breathes. "Fuck, feels so good- god, she's creaming."

A couple more thrusts and a couple more grunts and he's soon following suit, cumming inside of you.

"Look how pretty she is with my cum leaking out." He moves his phone down to get a close up as he sloooowly pulls out. When you whimper at the loss he sticks two fingers inside, massaging your walls and letting the milky white cream trickle down his hand. He ends the video after withdrawing those two fingers and pushing them past your lips for you to clean up, sweetness in your eyes as the stare directly into the camera.

"That was fucking hot," he sighs. "Won't be as good as the real thing, but at least I'll have the next best."

You lean up and kiss him, nibbling at his bottom lip.

"I'm gonna miss you, too," you pout. You reach over to the nightstand, grabbing your phone off the charger. "Now," you say, rolling him over onto his back and climbing on top, "it's my turn to get something to remember you by."

[emmyrosee]

Okay okay hear me out.

Sukuna and reader visiting little brother Yuji at school for whatever reason.

I can imagine people would prob find Sukuna super scary and intimidating and try to move away from him but he doesn’t rlly mind it.

And imagine Sukuna carrying a tiny Yuji and playing around with him at the play ground oml 🤭🤭🤭

GAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHDDDDDD

There’s just this mammoth of a man, ducking through school hallways and bearing his teeth at anyone who dares look his way. He’s blanketed in tattoos, he’s in a tank and sweats, completely inappropriate attire for a guardian-teacher conference. But hey, it ain’t his fault his Ma couldn’t make it in.

In his ring clad left hand, is your right. In his bent right arm and perched on his hip, is Yuuji. You and Yuuji, naturally, are smiling and waving at everyone while Sukuna guides you both through the halls, and he looks like a ferocious beast barely able to be tamed enough to be there. People quite literally part the halls to let you all pass, and it makes you turn your head to him.

“Why is everyone looking at us?” You ask, he flicks his gaze down to you briefly before looking back down the hall.

“Because you’re too hot to not look at,” he says, and when you giggle and press a kiss to the back of his hand, he smirks.

Yuuji starts to squirm and paw outwards at a classroom, and inside a kind looking teacher waves, calling the three of you in.

The conference goes as planned, Yuuji is learning on track, not great with his alphabet yet but superb with counting, he gets along with all the kids but has one special friend named Fushiguro that he spends all his time with, and he’s just the happiest boy to be around in class.

“Nothing like you, huh babe?” You tease Sukuna, and he nods while the teacher laughs.

“Jokes on you,” he begins. “I’m great at the alphabet.”

After being dismissed, you once again walk through the halls of parted guardians before making your way outside, where Yuuji once again starts to paw at the playground. Sukuna rolls his eyes, “come on, ma’ll kill me if you’re late for nap time.”

“But!” Yuuji whines.

You coo at sukuna, “a few minutes won’t kill him. It’ll tucker him out even more, no?” You flash your own pair of puppy eyes at him, “please, sukuna?”

“Fuck, are you asking for you or for him?” He scoffs, passing you the small child. You two squeal and make your way to the playground, making a beeline for the slide. Yuuji eagerly climbs up the ladder while sukuna trails behind.

“Su’kna!” He calls to his brother. “Catch!”

“I’m not catching-“

He can’t finish his sentence before yuuji starts to slide down on his bottom, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna move so fast in your entire relationship, than to catch his little brother at the base of the slide to catch him in his big arms. The little boy giggles as he’s caught and hauled back into the air by his brother, “you’re a little troublemaker, you know that?”

Yuuji simply laughs as he squirms from his brothers grip and runs off, leaving you and sukuna to watch.

“He’s such a good boy,” you hum.

Sukuna wraps his arm around you, “he’s just okay.”

“Yeah, okay,” you snort, resting your head against him. He goes quiet, and you look up at him lovingly, “what’re you thinking about in that big melon head of yours?”

He glares down at you briefly before sighing and shaking his head, “he’s just… he’s so big.”

“I know,” you agree.

“And… I want him… to stay this way. Forever.” He chuckles, “don’t want him to grow up and one day be stuck with a brat like you.”

“I’m not a brat,” you scoff. But you turn your head up to him to press a kiss to his jawline, “but he’ll always be little, to you. And hey- if he does meet a brat, he knows you’ll be there to take care of him.”

He hums and watches as his brother climbs to the top of the jungle gym, calling Sukuna’s name proudly. “I gotta go make sure he doesn’t break his arm. Want to go to the truck?”

You chuckle and nod, “sure. I’ll see you both in a bit.”

[papaya-twinks]

wet race - l.n

Warnings: smut, 18+, fingering, SEX

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - this video made me go feral sooooooo….smut 😫 also pretend the interviewer is a woman coz that’s y/n ����🫡🫡

“Lando,” you smiled at the driver in front of you, “your car really came alive in the wet today and…” you were cut off as the Brit leaned forward, the ghost of a smirk across his perfect features. “Car? Or driver?” you cheeks reddened at the words - maybe you were making it seem dirty, and besides, what did he mean? 

His eyes were firmly on yours as you sat back down in the seat, Lando’s gaze never leaving yours. “Jesus, Y/N,” your boss said, walking to you after the race, “what’s with the hiccup?”. You knew he was referring to the question that had you all flustered and you blushed again, looking down. “Sorry, sir,” you mumbled as he clicked his tongue.

You watched as he moved away, leaving you in the now empty media room as you collected your belongings from your chair. “So,” a voice said, making you jump and turn round, eyes meeting Lando’s, “got in trouble for that little moment, hm?” a smirk flicked across the driver’s face as you groaned. You had an interesting relationship with Lando. 

Most drivers liked you, actually, especially Lando, he’d usually be all smiley during interviews with you, when he knew you’d be there. But the past few weeks, you couldn’t help but notice the places his eyes darted during your questions, or the excessive chewing of his lips when he was around you - and it was driving you feral. “What were you thinking, hm?” he walked out you, his hands buried in his pockets. 

“Something dirty?” his words immediately sent a jolt through your body, your cheeks reddening as he smirked. “That’s what I thought,” he hummed, his chest pressed to your back as you inhaled sharply. “Did my driving make you wet, love?” Lando’s lips ghosted over your ear as you chewed on your lip. You gasped softly as his hand came to your skirt, his fingers brushing your panties, feeling the wetness between your legs. 

“It did,” he commented, moving his hand back. You nearly whined at the loss of contact, a smirk spreading across Lando’s features. “Needy,” he hummed, taking your hand and leading you to the usual sofa where the press conference took place. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as he sat you in the exact spot he’d been sitting. 

“Handle you just like I handled the car,” he mused, moving to push your legs apart, your cheeks red as he lifted your skirt. Your teeth sank into your lip as he licked a long stripe between your legs, your core throbbing with need. He hummed as you wriggled against him, his nose brushing your bundle of nerves as a moan left your lips. 

Lando hissed at the feeling, moving his large hand to your stomach, pushing you down as he tugged at your panties with his teeth. Your eyes widened as he immediately flicked his tongue at your core, purposefully rubbing his nose across your clit as you moaned. Lando dipped his long, thick middle finger into your wetness, pushing in deep as he moved your legs over his shoulders. 

Your eyes rolled slightly as he added another finger, pumping slowly as his tongue worked at your pussy, he moved his other hand to unbuckled his belt, pulling his trousers down, his other hand and his tongue buried between your legs hungrily, Lando’s throbbing length in his hand as he stroked himself. Your eyes were focused on his member, the long vein along the bottom, the thick head. 

“Want this, don’t you?” he mused, eyes on you as you nodded, desperate to feel him in you. Lando was more than happy to oblige, bringing his length to align with your entrance  before pushing in, your legs thrown over his shoulders, a small bump forming in your stomach.

Your moan was loud as he started rocking in and out of you, your eyes rolling slightly from the pleasure. “Lando,” you moaned as he grunted, his pace picking up by the second. He carried on, his fingers digging into your thighs as he sped up, the knot building up in your stomach. 

Lando could feel your high approaching as he stared keen at you, your body rocking with each movement. “Wanted to do this so long,” he groaned, his cheeks red with pleasure, “wanted to bend you over the damn media pen fence,”. His words spurred you on, your whimpers and moans fuelling his desire. 

Your orgasms hit simultaneously as he pulled out, his cum spilling onto your stomach, eyes wide. Lando pulled out slowly, pulling whimpers and whines from you as he did so, holding your hand through the way. “Gonna take so much self control to not just fuck you every conference,” he muttered, wiping his cum off of your stomach ad you nodded 

[purinfelix]

just for the weekend ᯓᡣ𐭩.ᐟ - franco colapinto

summary: your teammate has an absolutely ridiculous plan to bring your team back from the dead - but it might be just crazy enough to work w/c: 5.5k + some smau style tweets warnings: a little angst, some uncomfortable touching/kissing since it's fake dating (not too bad but better safe than sorry), some miscommunication - just two idiots in love i fear

a/n: WOW it's finally here, fake dating is literally a guilty pleasure trope for me so i hope yall enjoy this HAHA - also sorry to Williams fans bc there's a lot of slander in this but trust its all for the plot <333 (also holy shit this is the longest fic I've ever written WOW)

"You're actually insane."

"Oh c'mon, at least think about it for a minute, it's perfect!"

You fold your arms over your chest and try your best to look uninterested in whatever it is your teammate has to say. The two of you had been racing together for a little over half a year now, and you had witnessed him make (at least in your opinion) a grand fool of himself. Flirting with interviewers, winking at cameras, having absolutely no filter during press conferences - but this, this was by far the craziest thing you had heard come out of his mouth.

"A fake relationship?"

"Ah ah ah," he tuts, jutting a finger in your face, "a media relationship, one that will draw the attention away from how crap we're doing and onto the personalities of the team. Think about it, McLaren has whatever Oscar and Lando have got going on and Ferrari basically has two models for drivers. We need something to put us on the map, to make people care about us!"

You pause, and for a minute you seriously consider his outrageous proposition - he isn't completely wrong. For the two of you, making it into the points range was a rare occurrence, and even though the team always made sure to celebrate it like a podium there was something that stung about constantly being at the bottom.

"Do you realise how much trouble we could get into?"

"Ah," he sighs, and it's starting to annoy you how lightly he's talking about this, "ever the pragmatist."

"Well one of us has to be if the other's going to keep saying stupid shit," you huff before turning around and beelining out of his driver's room.

Seriously, a fake relationship? Had he lost his mind? Maybe if he focused more on his racing you wouldn't be constantly outperforming him.

"At least think about it, okay?" You hear him call out from behind you, and consider yourself lucky to be facing the other way so that he doesn't catch your obnoxious eye roll. Surely he had to be kidding because there was no way you were going to devote any amount of time to this ridiculous thought.

God fucking damnit.

It was frustratingly confusing, the kind of power Franco had. You had witnessed it first hand with how smoothly he spoke to anyone and managed to get his way almost instantly - but this was your first time experiencing it first-hand. It was another weekend, another country, another race, but the only thing you could think of was his stupid consideration - which, with each passing moment, seemed increasingly genius.

You had almost a year of experience with the team over your teammate, and with that, your fair share of embarrassment and disappointment. Sure, his idea was a little out there but you were close to being at your wits end and if nothing else, you hoped this would at least be a little fun. Plus you were pretty sure at this point if you didn't act on this thought soon, it would start interfering with your performance.

"Fine," you said a little breathlessly as you burst into his driver's room ahead of a race.

"Hey!" he exclaimed, looking at you with a shocked look, "whatever happened to knocking? I could've been naked in here!"

You roll your eyes before continuing, "You still up to the ..." You pause, thinking of how best to word it, "Fake relationship thing?"

His eyes light up immediately, "Ah, I knew you'd come around eventually."

Letting out a soft huff, just to let him know that you still aren't fully convinced this will work, you sit down on his couch. "I think we should lay down some ground rules first."

"Yes ma'am." He nods, straightening up and forcing a serious expression you can only assume is mocking yours.

"Firstly, no kissing."

"Understood."

"Actually no public affection at all, holding hands, hugging, nothing."

"Oh sure and how exactly are we going to convince people then?"

You pause, thinking for a little, "Okay maybe hand-holding and hugs are fine, but you better not push it - that goes for the pet names as well." He nods with a satisfied smile.

"And no one other than us two can know this is fake, alright? Otherwise, it'll spoil the plan."

"Trust me, I don't need anyone knowing I'm going along with something as ridiculous as this. It'll be our little secret."

"Our little secret," he repeats with a hum, a sly sort of smile spreading across his face as he gets up from his spot. "See you after the race, my love."

You sighed in exasperation, tossing your phone to the side of the couch in your driver's room where it fell with a light thud. You had about a thousand other things to be worrying about - your pretty disappointing result in qualifying for one - but for some reason, the main thing on your mind was your 'relationship' with Franco. Somehow, it had proved even more intense than you had expected, which planted a seed of worry in your mind as you realised how hard this was actually going to be to pull off. Since his not-so-subtle announcement to a hoard of hungry press members at last week's race, the media had managed up a flurry about the two of you.

There were supportive fans who liked you both enough not to see any problem with two teammates dating, as well as others who were more sceptical about how it might impact your performance. However, what really seemed to get to you were those who doubted you more than the relationship.

Your social media had been bombarded with comments and theories about the reason behind your relationship, doubting your place on the grid, and calling you names that - after shedding the status of 'first girl rookie', you thought you had left behind. Regardless, you feel a little stupid for being so unprepared for all this - not just the tweets but the harsh articles, the questions during press interviews and even shouting fans. Maybe if you had done a little more thinking about it first, you would've realised this was a stupid idea that should've been left at just that.

Throwing your head back you let out an exasperated sigh, trying to clear your head so that you could move on and focus on the race that was happening tomorrow. The last thing you wanted was for this plan to start impacting your driving. But Franco always seemed to have the worst timing - or best, depending on who you asked.

"Hello?" A couple quick knocks alert you of his presence before he cracks the door just wide enough to peek in. "There's my beautiful girlfriend." The way the pet names and affection seem to come to him so easily makes you simultaneously impressed and concerned, unsure of whether it's an indication of his great acting or flirting skills.

"What do you want?" You try to make it as obvious as you can that you're not in the mood, and he realises this right away.

"Oh, nothing, I just wanted to ask if you were free after this."

"You know I'm not really a huge fan of the big team dinners, especially not when we have a race tomorrow."

"Oh it's not like that, I was just going to go check out a restaurant near our hotel and wondered if you wanted to join me."

When you finally speak it's just above a whisper, "Is this a part of the fake dating thing?"

He laughs softly, his ability to find everything entertaining has always amazed you. "If you want to, it can be. If that gives you a reason to come hang out with me, though if you don't it's totally fine."

"No, I'll come, not like I've got anything better to do." You hate how every word you've said so far has sounded so pathetic.

"Great, I'll meet you by the paddock entry in ten?"

"See you then."

The street lights were dim, just bright enough to illuminate the street the two of you were walking down. The night was cool and still, and there were barely any people out other than you. You weren't sure why, but you had ended up telling Franco a lot more than you had expected. Maybe it was the extremely fancy restaurant you had initially gone to or the local one the two of you agreed to ditch it for instead, or maybe it was just the freeing feeling of being in another country.

The two of you had talked before, of course - as teammates it was difficult to avoid. But beyond the casual small talk, discussions about strategies or banter during challenges your relationship never extended beyond casual co-existence. It was one of the reasons you were glad your higher-ups had never tried to force the two of you into a professional friendship. There was something about Franco, his ability to strike up a conversation and maintain it even when the topic clearly strayed far beyond his interests, that made him so likeable, so easy to get along with. And the support he got from fans and the media reflected this well. You just never felt like there was any room for you in that equation.

But here, away from the cameras and shedding the roles of drivers, the two of you became normal people. You spoke, you laughed, you vented to him everything that worried you about your 'relationship' and he listened throughout all of it - all the while the two of you shared the biggest, best, pizza you had ever had.

"I have to say, I don't know if our engineers will appreciate the extra weight I've just put on," he jokes, breaking the comfortable silence that had been lingering around you two as you walked.

"Me neither, they might have to roll me into the car at this rate."

"You know, I think this is the first time the two of us have hung out, just us two."

You think for a little before answering, "You're right."

"Do you think there's a reason for that?"

"You mean besides us both being extremely busy people and already seeing each other pretty often? Not really, no."

"Good point, though with our little plan, we're definitely going to be seeing each other a lot more."

There's a beat of silence. "This is nice though, right?" He asks, and his voice is so tentative you almost find it endearing.

"It is nice, this was fun." You try not to think too much about the fact the two of you could be mistaken by any passer-by as a couple of lovebirds on a first date - or that fact that even to those who knew you, you were.

"I appreciate you telling me all that stuff, you know, about what people are saying about you."

"Oh, if anything I should be thanking you for listening to me vent about it."

"It is serious though, I'm so stupid for not even thinking about what you'd have to deal with."

"Well I don't think either of us gave it enough thought but," you pause and look up at him, "we're too far in to back out now."

He shoots you a comforting smile, one that shows how reassured he feels that you seem to finally be coming around to his idea. That is, at least, before his face morphs into one of discomfort.

"God, I'm so full."

"We're almost back at the hotel now, let's just sleep and then we can wake up early tomorrow morning to-"

"Wait, is that ice cream?" Franco interrupts you to point out a street vendor who's about to pack up for the night, and before you know it he's running up to the man eagerly. You can only follow suit with a sigh, knowing full well you wouldn't mind some dessert either.

"You two are lucky, you'll be my last customers for the night," the moustachioed owner of the cart says with a warm smile.

"Thanks," you reply kindly, before turning to Franco, "what flavour do you think you'll get."

"Hm, not sure, maybe chocolate?"

"Wow, boring."

He scoffs, "Oh yeah? And what exotic flavour are you going to get then?"

"Mint choc," you smile, but your face drops once you see your teammate's disgusted expression.

"You've got to be kidding me, that's like the worst choice."

You feign offence, "How dare you insult the best ice cream flavour of all time?"

"Ah, you two are quite the couple," the man laughs and you watch as Franco's eyes widen in embarrassment.

"Oh we're not-"

"Thank you," it's your turn to interrupt him, turning to the man with a smile. "One chocolate and one mint choc chip please."

You go to reach for your wallet to pay but you feel a hand on yours, stopping you.

"No, it's okay, I got this."

"Wh- Franco c'mon you know full well both of us could afford about a thousand of these ice cream cones don't be ridiculous."

"I know," he smiles and even though he's trying to be serious you know he's also trying not to laugh, "but I just figured you know, I'm the one who dragged you out here and like, got you into this whole fake dating mess."

You furrow your brows, a little confused at what exactly he's getting at.

"I guess I just want to say thank you, you know?"

"Alright, alright," you laugh softly, watching as he pays and takes both of the cones, handing you yours. Once you grab yours, you instinctively loop your arm around his, pulling him close and resting your head against his shoulder. The ice cream man laughs endearingly at the two of you.

"You're the best boyfriend ever!" you say in as high and cute a voice you can manage, cringing a little but determined to keep up the bit - you don't even bother to think about how fast you can feel Franco's heart race when you do.

Last night was really nice. You're sitting next to your race engineer, nodding along as she points to various multi-coloured dots and lines on the screen. You hear yourself agreeing with a couple quick "mhms", "of course" and "yep"s even though you can barely hear what she's saying. You're mere minutes away from getting in your car for a race, getting briefed on your strategy, and the only thing you can think of is the 'date' you had with Franco last night - if you can even call it that.

You had thought that getting everything off your chest, the hate comments, the doubt you had, would help you feel better and relieve any worries you had. And it did, at least until you got back to your hotel room alone and caught yourself smiling at the thought of seeing your teammate again the next day. How, even as you washed up and got ready for bed, you found yourself thinking - pizza, ice cream, walking at night together, isn't that something a real couple would do?

"Are you listening to me?" your race engineer's voice cuts through the haze of your thoughts, causing you to straighten up immediately.

"Yes! Sorry," you mumble, but just at that moment, you see him walk into the garage, greeting a couple of the mechanics warmly. Before you realise it, he's beelining straight for you, his arm coming around your waist as he leans in close to your ear.

"There's a ton of cameras, I just wanted to be believable," he whispers, and when he pulls back you can see the smile on his face. You nod curtly, fully aware of how red your face feels over such a small interaction as he waltzes away.

"Okay, so as I was saying," your race engineer pipes up again, though you couldn't be paying her less of your attention - watching as your 'boyfriend' walks off, his brown hair illuminating in the afternoon light. For a fake relationship, the quickening pace of your heart felt far too real.

"Well you two have been teammates since the beginning of this year, can you tell us a little about when you realised you might be more?"

Your struggle was never-ending - or at least, that's what it felt like, finding yourself at the centre of an impromptu interview with Franco. Around you, the other drivers were getting questions about their place in their teams, how they felt about their current strategy and about their racing futures. And there the two of you were, getting thrown question after question about your 'relationship'.

"Well," you begin, before being saved by your teammate. You had to give it to him - he was great at making stuff up on the spot.

"Well, I think it was somewhere around a month after I first joined the team, and met her. It was just something about her, she's sort of electric in this almost untouchable way, you know?"

You try not to look too awkward standing next to him as he talks, feigning your best-interested smile - though a part of you is extremely intrigued by this fake story he's creating.

"At first I thought I just wanted to be like her, her passion and talent were just so respectable, but the more time I spent with her the more I realised it was something completely different."

He turns to look at you, his arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close to him. Your expression falters a little as you're caught off guard by the sudden contact and as you turn away from the journalists and towards him, your eyes widen in shock at the sight of his pursed lips nearing yours. Before you realise it, his lips are against yours and you're pulling away as quickly as possible, face bright red. You're just barely aware of the thousands of flashing camera lights as you turn to quickly excuse yourself.

"Thank you all for coming, it was nice talking to you but, uhm, I have to go!" You hurriedly blurt out before slipping out of Franco's grip and darting off to your driver's room.

You hear his footsteps following closely behind you, as well as the sound of him calling out your name. When you near the door of your room, you turn around and grab his wrist to yank him in before you shut the door.

"What the hell was that?" is all you can muster out, "I thought we agreed no kissing?"

"Look, I can explain!"

You cross your arms with a huff, looking at him expectedly.

"I was just going to peck you quickly on the cheek, you know because we were getting all romantic and I wanted it to be believable! B-but then you turned, and then we," he's struggling not to ramble and his quickly moving hands do little to help. That's when you also realise his face is bright red as well, and he doesn't seem any less flustered by it than you do. "I'm really, really sorry I really shouldn't have done that."

You'd be lying if you said his explanation didn't make you feel any better. You're not actually upset about the kiss itself though, in fact, it's the opposite - actually, the grudge you're holding is doing little to help the internal struggle going on in your head. The kiss didn't make you angry, but the realisation that you wanted it to be real, did.

You sigh, rubbing your temples as you slump down in the nearest chair. Franco does the same on the adjacent couch, though his gaze stays carefully on you, almost afraid of what you might say next.

"It's fine, I think we just need to coordinate our PDA a little better then."

"Yes, of course," he nods quickly.

There's a beat of silence. "You're really good at acting though."

"What?"

"That whole story you made up about how you fell in love with me, it was really believable." You laugh lightheartedly trying to lighten the situation and alleviate the awkwardness that's settled between you two.

"Well it's pretty easy, I didn't need to make up much of it," his eyes catch yours and his gaze is soft when he smiles at you.

"What?" you're confused.

"Never mind," he scoffs lightly, his gaze dropping to the floor as he rubs the back of his neck. He looks almost disappointed at something, though you can't realise what. "Well, I'll leave you alone now. I really am sorry about what happened before." You watch as he pushes himself up from the couch, his head hanging guiltily - looking almost like a scolded puppy.

"It's fine Franco, really, please don't feel too bad about it." He nods thankfully before slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

Being a driver, hotel rooms had come to be a companion you knew far too familiarly. Their high ceilings, plush sterile white bedsheets, the empty bathroom - almost everything about them felt a sign of loneliness, of temporality, a house that never felt like home. Even though you knew how ridiculous it would be to complain about something that others would see as a privilege, it was hard to deny the isolation you felt whenever in a new country, away from most of your family or friends.

Maybe that's why you had been so eager to latch onto Franco's idea - it made sense, he had become the person you spent the most time with so why not give yourself some ridiculous reason to be around him even more? However somewhere along the way you stopped needing the reason of fake dating, somewhere in between hushed conversations, planned posts and candid photos - and instead found yourself genuinely enjoying his company. It was a little strange and sometimes acted as a sour reminder of how lonely you'd become but more than anything it felt like a blessing in disguise.

You were reminded of this fact as you lay, wrapped in a plush white hotel robe, across your messy bedsheets - laughing to yourself at the tweets your boyfriend had sent you. They were all about you, or the two of you, of course. Comments on the tiniest things, the way the two of you looked at each other, the way Franco held your hand, the way you worried about him.

"I feel a little bad, they're all so gullible," you typed quickly.

"Oh, so now you feel bad?" His response was almost instant.

"Don't you?"

"It's fun, isn't it? All this playing pretend."

Right, pretend. You rolled onto your back with a deep sigh, staring up at the tall hotel ceiling. All of this was just so confusing - as if figuring out how you felt about someone wasn't difficult enough, the two of you had complicated it by tricking the entire world into thinking you were in love. Whether you truly liked him or not, the idea was doomed for failure - and the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like the former.

"You're right," you typed back, watching intently as the three tiny dots appeared, disappeared then reappeared. What could he be saying that would need so much thinking?

"Can we talk tomorrow, after the race?"

You felt your stomach drop, had he finally caught on to how obvious you were being about how you truly felt, and decided that actually it might be better to just drop this whole act and go on as just teammates? With trembling hands, you typed back.

"Sure, what about?"

"I'll tell you then, for now, we should sleep."

"Goodnight Franco."

"Goodnight mi amor." You laughed softly to yourself at the nickname he had given you, though a small part of you took it as salt to the wound - almost as if he was dangling the possibility of something that could never happen right in front of your desperate little face.

However, not like you had a choice - all you could do now was get ready for bed and brace yourself for whatever tomorrow brought.

You couldn't believe it. The sounds of celebration erupted around you, but you sat completely still in your car, silent, attempting to process what had just happened. Your first win, and, your first double podium, with Franco. Your head was spinning as the never-ending stream of thoughts raced through your mind. Suddenly, you heard a voice coming from above your car's halo, muffled by your helmet. You flick the visor up, lifting your head as highly as you could - locking eyes with your teammate.

"We did it! Oh my god!" The excitement on his face is enough to send a slight surge of energy through you as he offers you his hand, helping you out of the car. When you do though, you stumble a little - the nerves are almost too much for you.

"Woah, you alright?" Even through the fog clouding your mind you can make out the concern in Franco's voice and feel his arms steadying you.

"Yeah, just-" you mumble, gesturing to your helmet and making weak attempts to undo the clasps underneath it. It's almost suffocating you, and the chaos going on around you isn't helping the pounding headache.

"Oh, let me," he reacts immediately, dropping his own helmet and bringing his hands below your chin to swiftly undo the clasps and pull the helmet off of you. You take a deep breath of air as you pull off your fireproof mask, though it sounds more like a desperate gasp.

Around you, the crowds roar with excitement, both your team and others as they make attempts to gesture at the two of you to join them. Your head spins though, and you wobble backwards into Franco.

"It's too loud," is all you can stutter out, though he understands you almost immediately, a strong hand gripping your wrist and pulling you away from the noise and somewhere quieter. You're not entirely sure where he's taking you but at that moment you feel as though you'd follow him just about anywhere.

Luckily though, when your eyes refocus you're in his driver's room, and even though outside you can hear the cheers continuing, you're offered some solace here, the walls muffling the sound. You sigh, sinking into his couch as you throw your head back, panting still.

You feel like it's all just too much - not just the physicality of the race, but the feeling of winning it, winning it with Franco, just Franco himself. When you finally manage to catch your breath you lift your head to see him standing over you, watching intently.

"Better?"

"Much better, thank you." You smile earnestly, "Though I don't think we'll be able to hide in here much longer, there is a cooldown room for this exact reason."

"Oh, I mentioned it to someone, not sure who but he looked important, and he said it would be okay."

You laugh softly, amazed at how he can seem so calm even at a moment like this.

"We did it," you say, still not being able to believe it.

"We did," he smiles, sitting on the couch next to you, "a couples podium."

You feel your heart skip a beat at the sudden reminder of your conversation last night, him mentioning he had something to tell you. Was this it? The two of you had achieved what you had been wanting this entire time, and there was no better time to let this ridiculous bit go than now.

You stare at the wall of his room, the gigantic flag of his home country, and let out a shaky breath, mustering up the courage to break the silence. "So..."

He turns to you, one eyebrow raised in interest.

"What was it you wanted to talk to me about?" You're trying your best to keep your voice lighthearted, "it sounded serious."

"Oh, well about that," he seems to have forgotten it temporarily as well, but the fact that he turns to look at the flag as well, almost unable to maintain eye contact with you, isn't a good sign.

Maybe it's the adrenaline from the race, maybe it's the fact that both of you are going to be needed out on the podium in about ten minutes - or maybe it's the fact that you're so desperate to get out these feelings and make him understand how you feel, but you start talking before you even realise it.

"Look, Franco, I," you start, not entirely sure of where you're going to end up, "I know you asked me to do this whole fake dating thing with you and I completely understand if you want to end it now, I mean why wouldn't we? It's perfect!"

He looks at you confused, lips parted as if about to interrupt you but you continue anyway, stupidly.

"But, look, here's the thing," you turn to him now, and you're sure your face is bright red, "I don't want this to end!"

You let out a deep sigh, and clutch your hands together to stop them from shaking, though it doesn't help that Franco looks even more confused now.

"What?" he says, and your heart drops.

"I," you pause, struggling to find the right words, and struggling to get them out, "I think I like you, like, for real." Okay, not exactly the best choice of words but it'll do.

"Like, not for the whole fake relationship thing?" his tone is still concerned and he leans in a little for clarification.

"Yes! Okay, I know it's not exactly what we thought would happen and it'll probably jeopardise our relationship as teammates but there, I like you okay."

"When did you realise?"

"A couple days ago, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, and you're left with the agonising feeling of your heart racing in your chest, waiting eagerly for his response - for him to laugh in your face, for him to get mad, for him to reject you.

But instead, you watch as Franco's confused expression melts into one of pure relief as he sinks back into the couch with a sigh. "Oh, thank God."

It's your turn to be confused. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," he says, eyes fixed on the ceiling with the widest smile you've ever seen.

"Wait you mean you-"

"I win!"

You're absolutely speechless, not a single coherent thought on what is going on or how to respond. All you can get out is a confused sort of grunt.

"I win, I've liked you for longer!" he laughs, sitting up and grabbing your hands in his.

You feel as though your jaw is going to dislocate at how fast it drops, "I'm sorry?"

"Oh c'mon, we've been teammates for a year I know you're not that oblivious."

"Well, apparently I am because I'm really confused."

"I've liked you since the moment I met you, you idiot."

"Wh-" You're about to be offended at the name-calling until what he says finally hits you. He likes you. He has liked you. For ages. You idiot.

"Even when you proposed this to me?"

"Yep."

"Even when we went to get ice cream?"

"Yep."

"Even when you kissed me?"

"Y- well wait no that was completely unintentional," he holds his hands out in defence. You slump back, trying your best to process everything today has entailed, it's almost too much. That is until you feel Franco move a little closer to you, his arm stretching around your shoulders and gently moving your head to lay on his. At that moment, it all becomes clear, and you're suddenly unsure about why you ever felt confused about any of this.

"What now?" You say, barely above a whisper.

"We go and get our trophies," even though you're not looking you can hear the smile in his voice. "Though, before then."

You lift your head up off his shoulder to turn to him with raised brows. "Hm?"

"Now that we aren't fake dating, do the rules still apply?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I'd really like to kiss you right now," he whispers, and there's a hint of nerves as you watch his eyes dart in between yours and your lips.

"Really can't wait can you," you tease, though you still move to close the space in between you to. But just before your lips can touch his there's a knock at the door, causing you both to slump back with a sigh.

"Hey, are you two in there?" it's your race mechanic, "you're needed, you know, on the podium."

You roll your eyes to show your obvious disappointment at being interrupted, though Franco just watches you with an endeared smile.

"What are you thinking about?" you ask, not being able to hide your own smile.

"I'm just thinking about how beautiful you're going to look up on that podium, and how I won't have to pretend not to be in love with you anymore."

Taglist : @spreadyourwings-my-smiling-angel @cinderellawithashoe @vanicogh @taasgirl @claudiajacobs

@dripostsstuff @boiolay @earth-to-lottie @dejavuontrack @dudududu-fangirl

@kravitzwhore @gavisuntiedboot @reiofsuns2001 @musicmie @danielle12002x-blog

@alelo23 @corrodeddeadlydoll @aliwritex @nina-or-anna-or-nora

@5sospenguinqueen @araunahj @sbrn0905 @halleest @lottieliveslife

@lovestruck-sky @im-an-op81-fan @blubra @vienoiserieetc

(don't ask me why it's formatted so weird, tumblr hates me)

[vivwritesfics]

Mrs Baker, Ma'am

Landoscar's girlfriend loved to bake and all of the grid love when she brings her baked goods to the paddock

Y/N loved the Monaco Grand Prix for just a few reasons. One, it was the race set where she lived, meaning she was familiar with the surroundings and she could sleep in her own bed the night before the race. Two, she could watch the practices from her balcony with her cat on her lap and coffee in her hands. Three, she got to rock up to the paddock with a basket full of baked goods.

Maybe that was why Lando and Oscar fell in love with her. Because Y/N always had some sort of baked good ready for them. While Lando was gaming, she’d be teaching Oscar to bake and presenting the results to Lando. Fans loved when it happened while Lando was streaming. They loved nothing more than watching a blushing Oscar walking into the room with a tray full of cookies. His cheeks would be red while Lando took a cookie from the tray and moaned while he ate it.

The rest of the paddock had also expressed their love for Y/N’s baking. Carlos had been the first to try her baking when he and Lando were teammates. When he moved to Ferrari, Carlos found himself wanting some of Y/N’s baked goods and telling Charles all about them.

Y/N found herself strolling towards the Ferrari garage the next day, a container full of biscuits, muffins and cookies tucked under her arms. It was kind of funny, actually. The Ferrari boys had been talking about it in a press conference and Y/N had seen it and gone out to get ingredients that day. She’d spent her night baking, thankful that she and Lando were staying in an apartment, not a hotel, in Australia.

And then when Daniel had become Lando’s teammate, Y/N had brought him something baked almost every grand prix. From there the news of her baking had spread around the paddock, since Daniel was friends with everybody.

Y/N began bringing her baked goods whenever the grand prix was in Monaco. If she happened to make too much, she’d take some over to Charles or Max in their apartments.

This time, Y/N had two baskets of baked goods on her arms. She strode through the paddock in her best trousers and a cute vest top. She couldn’t stop from smiling as she walked into the McLaren garage.

Zac Brown was the first to spot her. Her, and the basket of baked goods. “Hi, Y/N,” he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as he walked her further into the garage.

“Hey, Zac,” she said, holding out one of the baskets.

After Zac picked out a cupcake, Y/N put the basket down. She greeted more of the McLaren staff and directed them towards the basket of baked goods. She had everything, croissants, pain au chocolats, cupcakes, doughnuts, muffins, cookies, and biscuits. At the bottom of the basket was some fudge she had made, just in case there weren’t enough baked goods for everybody.

Once those working in the McLaren garage were working through her basket of baked goods, Y/N made her way out of the McLaren garage and headed off to Red Bull.

There were just twenty pastries in this basket. On Monaco weekends, Y/N gave out what she could and brought more the next day, giving pastries to as many people in as many teams as possible. Drivers got her pastries on a Saturday and everybody else got them on the Sunday. Everybody else included wags and whoever else got to her first. There was one time where Martin Brundle got completely sidetracked when he went to talk to Lando and ended up with one of Y/N’s pastries.

Max was nowhere to be seen, so Y/N went over to Sergio Perez, who was talking to his engineers. She waited for him to finish up before offering him a cookie. And then she went off to Max’s driver room, after asking Christian where he was.

She knocked on the door and waited for confirmation before walking in. Max’s eyes lit up when he saw her. “If I didn’t have a wonderful girlfriend, I’d be jealous of Lando and Oscar,” he said and gratefully accepted a chocolate chip muffin.

Y/N moved on, walking towards the Ferrari garage. Carlos seemed to have a sixth sense for Y/N and her baked goods, and spun on his heel and marched over to her, a wide grin on his face. “pequeño pollo,” he said and wrapped his arms around her. Carlos pressed a kiss to the side of her head, wearing heart eyes as he picked out the pastry he wanted.

She offered Charles a pastry and moved onto Mercedes. Y/N went from garage to garage, greeting the drivers her boyfriends called their friends and offering them a cookie or a cake or something. Each and every driver was grateful.

And last, after giving Fernando and Lance two of the last pastries, Y/N made her way back to McLaren. She strode into the garage, the mechanics, engineers and strategists giving her compliments on her baking skills.

Y/N grinned and thanked them, making her way to where her boyfriends were talking to their boss. When Zac saw her, he trailed off and the boys turned around.

Oscar was the first to spot her. He walked towards her and wrapped his arms around her, ignoring the pastries. “Have you been making your rounds?” He asked her.

Nodding her head, Y/N kissed his cheek. “I’ve got two left for you and Lan,” she said.

Wrapping his arm around her waist, Oscar walked Y/N over to Lando and Zac. She smiled at the CEO, who immediately began complimenting her on the cupcake. “And the fudge? Oh my god, it was next level,” Zac said. He then left them to it, walking back over to the basket to look for more fudge.

YN looked at her boyfriends and held the basket up in front of her. The boys reached inside, Lando pulling out a chocolate filled croissant and Oscar pulling out a cookie. “Thank you, baby,” Lando said and reached forward to kiss her. Oscar did the same and broke off a piece of cookie to share with her.

Y/N spent the rest of the Monaco grand prix with her boyfriends either tucked into Lando’s side or holding Oscar’s hand. After the qualifying, Y/N took her boyfriends home and rewarded them with another round of baked goods. On race day she brought enough for the WAGS and other team principles. She made another batch of fudge for Zac Brown and Zac Brown only.

All of the paddock were slightly jealous of Lando and Oscar, and their girlfriend who loved to bake. If she was bringing her baked goods to the grand prix, they could keep their jealousy at bay.

[rubysgirl32]

Bottoms reunion confirmed in Rachel Sennot’s late instagram post

[lqveharrington]

Timeless | T.B.

summary: tom said that in every timeline, you would find and love each other

pairing: all tom blyth characters above (plus alex) x fem!reader

includes: FLUFF, kissing, allusions of sex mentions of killing, threats, teasing

a/n: i just love me some tom blyth 🩷 also, all the other universes mentioned are the ones connected with my own writing for them, so see if you can spot the similarities between coryo and billy’s parts 😉

Ever since you began to date Tom, you've felt more love than you have in years. He was the kindest, most caring, and protective man you have ever met. He made sure every single interaction wasn't crossing any boundaries — not wanting to make you uncomfortable — and he made every interview and press conference never spoke badly about. It was all so courteous that it didn't take long until he decided to put a ring on it — hiding the engagement until you both posted wedding photos for your anniversary.

"It's your day off, stop scrolling through Instagram comments." You set down the cups of hot chocolate on the coffee table before taking away his phone, hiding it away in the drawer. He raised his brow as his hand found the curve of your hip, tugging you to sit beside him. "I'm taking away your phone privileges for the rest of the day."

"A day off with my wife if I stay away from the internet?” He tapped his chin in thought as his free hand went under your calves, pulling yours legs over his lap. “I think I like that idea, Mrs Blyth.”

His accent nearly made you swoon. You loved him for who he was, and the additional accent was a bonus you got lucky with.

You would never get tired of how kind Tom was to you — even after two years of dating, one year of engagement, and one year of marriage — you still were head over heels for him.

Meeting his iridescent blue eyes, you lean in for a proper kiss and smile when he pulls you closer. Tom tilts your head up to his with a finger, kissing you with the same passion he always used. You follow suit and only separate in surprise when he nips at your bottom lip.

"Rude much." You giggle and rest your head on the cushion behind you, hand coming up to touch your lip. “Such a tease, Blyth, such a tease.”

"It’s not my fault you’re so irresistible." Tom took your hand away from your face and began to individually kiss each and every finger, slowly moving higher and higher until he was back to your lips. “Would kissing you make you feel better?”

You pretend to think about it for a second, holding back a smile when you see him impatiently waiting for you to say yes. But the second he heard the beginning syllable of the word, he cupped your face with both hands and met your lips, enjoying your short yelp of surprise.

Tom pressed short kisses to your lips and smiled when you pressed a hand against the left side of his chest. He knew exactly what you were listening for, you did this every time you felt so much love from him.

When he finally pulls away, he glances down at your lips and smirks when he realizes that your lips were a shade deeper than they were earlier. He thumbed your cheek and tucked a piece hair behind your ear, kissing your cheek.

“You know what I’m thinking of?” He murmured, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder.

You shrug and look up, “What are you thinking of, Tom Keir Blyth?”

He rolled his eyes at the full name and kissed you silly again before speaking, hiding another smirk from your dazed look before you shook it off. "I think we would find each other in every universe. Fall in love just like we are now."

You hum and play with his sweater, thinking about the possibility. Even if you did exist in different universes, the chances of finding each other in every lifetime was slim, maybe even zero. But your love for one another was a flame — a magnetic force that always attracted.

After a few beats of silence, you finally say something in regard to the thought with a benevolent smile, wedding and engagement ring shining from the sunlight hitting it.

"I think so too."

“Hey, how was— What’s that for?” You start to ask him about his daily ride when you look up and see the bouquet of wildflowers, an array of pinks, blues, and purples. You grin at him and take the flowers from him, fingers gingerly touching the petals while silently questioning him.

Billy grinned back and his hand found its home on the curve of your hip. “Saw em’ by the forest as I was coming back. Figured m'pretty girl deserved all the pretty flowers.”

Your cheeks were starting to hurt by how hard he was making you smile. He was so infinitely lovable and you just knew when you got married to him, it would double by millions. He slowly began to thumb your hip and tilted his head down to accommodate your height with how close you were both standing.

“You’re sweet for an ex-outlaw.” You whisper and cling onto the flowers, eyes lighting up in mischief. You pull yourself impossibly closer, your lips dangerously close to his. "You are so in love with me, Bonney.”

“Am I now?” He murmured and noticed the hint of mischief in your eyes, a small smirk gracing his lips.

You went to answer but got cut off when he pressed his lips to yours, your initial shock fading into desire. One of your hands finding its way to his chest, feeling the heartbeat you felt so much love from. But as Billy’s hand slowly traveled south, your brother made the unfortunate decision to enter the living room.

“Didn't you say Billy was— Oh, ew!” Adam’s recoiled and turned around, gagging into his hands. The memory was forever going to scar him. He heard gasping and quick steps away, making him shut his eyes in revulsion. “Why are you touching her like that!”

“Adam—“ You try to speak over him, but he just kept going on about all the different things he would never do when he got older and how your parents would totally freak if they were the ones to walk in. How your dad would kill Billy if he ever saw whatever he was doing to you.

He continued to babble and babble, eyes wide in sickness. “Does pa know he touches you like that? He would have a day with Billy! I—“

“Adam, turn your ass back around and head into the kitchen. We’ll be over in a second.” You clamped a hand over his mouth, voice strict and eyes annoyed. Adam nodded swiftly in horror and quickly made his way back into the kitchen, wincing when you shouted again. “And you don’t say a word!”

You turn back around to find Billy standing there with the bouquet, his brows raised in full amusement. He sent you a wink — which you rolled your eyes to before approaching him and his smug face.

“William Bonney.” You stood in front of him and crossed your arms, tapping your foot on the wooden floor like a mother.

He tilted his head to the side and handed you the bouquet again, grinning when you snatch them out of his hands. Billy crossed his own arms — noticing your eyes drift down to his exposed arms. “Eyes up here, sweetheart.”

You scowl and yelp when he pulls you in his arms. Looking up at him, you push a finger to his chest and reprimand him. “Pull a stunt like that again and our shooting lessons will be turned against you.”

“I didn’t think he would walk in here, sweetheart.” He buried his head into your neck and pressed soft kisses to your neck. "I'm sorry,"

“In every universe, I’m sure someone would’ve walked through those doors, Billy.” You mumble and accept his kisses, running your free hand through his brown hair. "Trust me."

Knock Knock Knock

“Come in.” Coriolanus' voice rang out in his office. In the few seconds the door open and shut, he didn't hear the person announce who they were, his jaw ticking in annoyance. He looked up from his paperwork to maybe see an Avox until they softened at the sight of you. You were in the dress he just bought you, making him smirk in satisfaction.

“I brought lunch.” You smile and move to place the tray down on the side table by the small library in the room. "You didn't come down for lunch and I was getting worried."

Coriolanus sighed and ran his fingers through his blonde hair for what seemed like the nth time in one hour. “I needed to finish reading all the paperwork the Districts mailed earlier and I couldn't just discard it in the middle of completion. Even if it's all complaints." His piercing eyes watched as you grabbed a plate and handed it to him before you pulled yourself to sit on top of his desk, careful not to disturb the organized mess of papers. "How are the twins' studies?"

You crossed your legs and play with your rose necklace, watching the white snow coat the trees and ground outside. “Their governesses said they are doing exceptionally well today. Celine’s working on her long division and Lio is working on his poetry; which, by the way, is about you."

He hummed and took a bite out of the steak, his free hand finding your knee and thumbing the skin there. Coriolanus looked over your face, watching you mess with the necklace he got you all those years ago. Even after he offered to buy a new one, you refused to let go of the old one. It was your favorite thing he ever gave you.

Well, besides Celine and Aurelio of course.

"They'll be as smart as their mother in a few years." He glanced over at you, raising his brows when you shake your head, pearly whites peeking through in doubt. "What? You and I were practically tied for the Plinth prize before they changed the stupid rules." You still gave him an unimpressed look. "Have I ever lied to you?"

Your soft smile falters and your eyes darken as old memories resurface. “You really want me to answer that?”

You didn't mean to say that out loud — regretting it instantly and internally wincing when you saw his own eyes darken to the dark azure you knew all too well.

Coriolanus raised his brows at you and carefully stood, full six feet standing in front of you. He firmly grasped your jaw in his hand and tilted your head up to meet his eyes. You hid all fear away, knowing he wouldn't do anything to hurt you after you reduced him into nothing but a mess after leaving him long ago.

“You really want to ruin my day, beautiful? Because I can make this day worse.” Coriolanus murmured as his lips lightly grazed yours — almost daring you to continue.

“Noted.” You murmur back and earn a quick peck to the lips as a reminder that you solely were his before he removed himself from you. You watched him with careful eyes — almost like you were handling a stray cat — and continued to play with your necklace until you saw the storm clear from his eyes.

"Tigris is coming over tonight to fit us for the annual Christmas gala. She wants more leeway in case Celine hates her dress again." Your finger feels for the intricate details of the necklace as you remember the memory of a screaming five-year-old tugging at the dress her aunt took ages to make.

Coriolanus pursed his lips at the thought and shook his head. It was an absolute mess of a day, but luckily Tigris had made a spare dress for her. He pulled your crossed legs to lay across his lap, hand running up and down the space there without any care about the heels digging into his thighs.

“I thought we had a party to attend to tonight?” He tilted his head back and shut his eyes, still contemplating whether or not to even hold a gala this year.

You could feel his emotions radiating off of him. This time of the year was always bad for him, especially when he was already swamped with so much work. Slowly, you move closer to him until he opened his eyes again to find you sitting right in front of him, legs on either side of his.

“It's just Livia's get together, she won't care.” You murmur as your hands find his tie, tugging it ever so slightly. “Besides, tonight's a night.”

He brought his hands up to you waist and dragged you closer until you were sitting on his lap, eyes darkening once more. It was rare for you two to even have a night once a month, but it seemed like this month was going to have more than one.

"I thought we still had a week left." He rested a hand on your thigh, dangerously close to anything underneath your beautiful dress.

You put a hand on his chest and feel the rhythm of his heart, the one you knew loved you despite every obstacle you both faced. “Tigris is taking them afterwards, she wants bonding time with them.”

“A night it is.” Coriolanus murmured and met your lips, smirking when you let out a noise of surprise when he bites your bottom lip. Separating, he places on last kiss to your lips before helping you stand, adjusting your dress until you were decent. “I have a meeting in five minutes, I’ll come find you later.”

“I’m helping with decorating the manor. Again." You complain and adjust the ends of your hair, making sure they were perfect before adjusting Coriolanus' appearance. "The stupid Avoxes don’t know where the garlands go. They go in the same place they always do.”

“So picky, my love.” Coriolanus stood and placed another kiss to your lips, feeling you smile. He placed a few more kisses until you pulled away and rubbed the lipstick off his lips. “You just have to have your way no matter where you are, yeah?”

“Imagine in a different timeline I never got to decorate our house properly. It would be tragic.”

“Tragic indeed.”

When you went to get Alex from his room, you expected him to be ready to leave and just have a wonderful break from the school. But when you got there, he was still sitting at his desk, reading papers his students wrote. You roll your eyes at the man before knocking on the door frame.

“Alex, you realize today is the last day before winter break, yeah?” You give him a weird look from the doorway to his classroom, leaning against the frame.

“I do.” He flips the paper and reads the back, chuckling to himself at the sentences written down.

“Then what are you grading? They were due Wednesday.” You walked over to him and looked over his shoulder, huffing when you realize the papers were being covered by his frame. You waited a second to see if he even realize you were next to him before calling out his name again. “Alex?”

He looked up to the door only to jump back in surprise to see you standing next to him with an annoyed look. “Yeah?”

“If you don’t answer me properly, I will leave you here and decorate our place on my own—" You try to speak again when he looks down at the paper again, making you smack his shoulder with the back of your hand. “Alex Nilsen!”

Alex jumped again and packed away the papers into his messenger bag, standing to pull on his winter coat. “Sorry, done, I’m done.”

“You’re incorrigible.” You cross your arms and stare at him with an unimpressed look. As you watched the sun begin it's descent down, you didn't realize Alex took the opportunity to sneak behind you and press a kiss to your cheek. "Hey!” You whip your head around and send him a startled look before it softened into a joking pout. “That’s unfair. You didn’t even tell me what you were looking at.”

Alex hummed and let you rest your head on his shoulder, swaying side to side softly. “If you really want to know, I was reading letters my students wrote to you.”

You raise your eyebrows in surprise, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes properly. “To me?”

“Yes, you.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek again and smiled when you gingerly rested your forehead on his cheek. “They love when you come and visit me in the middle of class.” Alex nudged you softly. “Well, that and I stop teaching to talk to you.”

“Surprised you haven’t gotten fired for that yet, Nilsen.” You joke and squeal when he spins you around so your chest was against his, both of you wearing bright smiles.

“Maybe because I’m one of the best English teachers here.” Alex tilted his head to the side and sat down on his desk, letting you slot yourself between his legs. When you scrunched your nose at his comment, he sent you a confused look. “What?”

You shrug and you run your fingers through his hair, the small brown curls soft under your palms. “You have too big of an ego already for me to say.”

“Now you have to tell me.” He took your free hand and traced the lines adorning your palm. He waited for you to say anything, but when you didn’t speak and chose to continue running your fingers through his hair, he became impatient. “Come on.”

“I was going to say that you aren’t wrong. You’re one of the best English teachers in Linfield, Ohio.” You murmured and instantly regretted it when you say his eyes light up and a smirk grace his face. “Alex—“

“Oh, my ego just grew by a million.” He kissed the back of your hand.

“Shut up, I was being nice.” You complain and cover your face before realizing why all his students wrote you letters. “Besides, most of your kids do theater. They all come back to me at the end of the day.”

Alex pauses his teasing, thinking about his roster. “Holy shit, you’re right.”

You laugh softly and move to sit beside him on the desk, lacing your hand with his. You rest your head on his shoulder once more, squeezing his hand before you hear he speak in a much softer, loving tone.

“That may be why they love you so much,” Alex started and thumbed your hand, his warm smile reaching his eyes, crinkling their corners. “But never as much as I love you.”

You perch your chin on his shoulder and smile, blush coating your cheeks “You’re such a sap.”

“That loves you.” He turned his head and pecked your lips over and over and over until you put your hand on his mouth to stop him.

Your eyes brighten with so much love, your smile true to every word you uttered. “Love you too, Nilsen.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[bangchansdirty-slut]

Can you please do the office meeting fucking "hyunjin x m'reader" please?? I'm begging you! :D

Boss's Request

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

Paring: Top!Boss!Hyunjin x Bttm!Assisant!Male Reader

Genre: Smut

Summary: Hyunjin decides to spice up the meeting after being pent up and teased by you all day.

More: Masterlist

A/n: Requests are open

•───⋅⋆⁺‧₊☽⛦☾₊‧⁺⋆⋅───•

The fashion world was abuzz with anticipation as the new Hwang Hyunjin line was about to be unveiled. M/n, the boss's "personal" assistant, was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, making sure every last detail was perfect. Hyunjin himself was pacing the floor, his usually immaculate suit rumpled and his hair mussed. Something was clearly bothering him, but no one could quite put their finger on it. Everyone else was too focused on the new designs and the potential impact they could have on the industry.

Meanwhile, M/n caught a glimpse of Hyunjin stealing glances in his direction every now and then. It was almost as if the boss was… admiring him. M/n couldn't help but feel a blush creep up his neck. He'd been with Hyunjin for long enough to know that look, and it usually meant trouble.

As the final touches were being put on the collection, Hyunjin called M/n over to his office. Once the door was closed and they were alone, Hyunjin leaned against his desk, his eyes raking over M/n's body. "You've been busy lately," he purred. "I've barely seen you. I've missed…" He trailed off, biting his bottom lip. "I've missed my stress reliever."

M/n felt his heart skip a beat. He knew exactly what Hyunjin meant. Their relationship had been secret for months, but it was no secret that whenever M/n was around, Hyunjin seemed to forget about everything else. He was always so focused on M/n, and it drove him wild.

As the two went to the meeting and sat down, M/n could feel Hyunjin's eyes on him, even when he was speaking with the other designers. It was a mix of desire and possessiveness that made M/n's blood race. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't help but feel turned on by the attention.

The meeting went on, with M/n doing his best to keep his mind on the task at hand. But every time Hyunjin shifted in his seat or let out a soft groan, M/n's focus would slip. It was obvious that Hyunjin was struggling to contain himself, and M/n couldn't help but wonder what would happen if he gave in to those urges.

Finally, midway through the presentation, M/n felt Hyunjin's hand snake its way up his inner thigh. He glanced over in surprise, only to find Hyunjin's dark eyes locked on him. The boss's expression was a mix of desire and possession that made M/n's heart race. Without another word, Hyunjin leaned over and whispered in his ear, "I can't take it anymore. Bend over the table."

Embarrassment washed over M/n as he complied, lowering his body and resting his elbows on the smooth surface. He felt Hyunjin's fingers trace the line of his boxers and pants before they were roughly yanked down, exposing him. The cool air from the air conditioner hit his sensitive skin, making him shiver.

But any hint of modesty was quickly forgotten as Hyunjin's hard length pressed against his entrance. There was no gentleness in the thrust, only a primal need that took control of the boss. M/n let out a gasp as Hyunjin pushed deeper, filling him completely.

Their moans filled the conference room full with employees, drowning out the sounds of the other designers as they presented their work. M/n could feel Hyunjin's hips slapping against his ass, driving himself deeper inside him with each thrust. He arched his back, unable to contain his own pleasure as his boss took control of him.

The other employees shifted uncomfortably in their seats, trying to pretend like they weren't watching the intimate scene unfolding before them. But Hyunjin didn't seem to care; he continued to fuck M/n, his gaze never leaving the other people in the room. He let out a husky laugh as he pulled out, only to thrust back in harder. "See, M/n? They're all looking away. They're afraid of what I'll do to them if they say anything about this. And you? You're mine. You have no reason to be embarrassed."

M/n gasped as Hyunjin's words sent a shiver down his spine. He couldn't deny the thrill he felt, knowing that they were putting on a show for everyone. It was a power play, and Hyunjin was in control. He arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with equal fervor. The boss's cock felt impossibly big inside him, stretching him in ways he hadn't thought possible.

"That's it, baby," he whispered in M/n's ear. "Make them jealous. Make them wish it was them up there, taking my cock." With each thrust, Hyunjin's hips slapped against M/n's ass, driving him deeper inside. The boss's hands gripped M/n's hips tightly, holding him in place as he took him roughly.

M/n could feel his orgasm building, the pleasure overwhelming him as he felt so completely owned by his boss. He moaned Hyunjin's name, the sound filling the room as he lost control. His muscles tensed, and he arched his back, meeting Hyunjin's thrusts with a ferocity that left them both gasping for breath.

As he came, M/n felt Hyunjin's own release, felt the hot liquid spill over his entrance as the boss found his own release inside him. Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, the rhythm of their movements mirroring the power struggle that had brought them to this moment.

When at last they came down from their shared high, Hyunjin pulled out and tucked himself back into his pants. He straightened his tie, adjusting his suit jacket before turning back to face the others in the room. His expression was cool and confident, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just transpired.

M/n, on the other hand, felt a mixture of emotions as he tried to regain his composure. His heart raced, his body still trembling from the intense release. He looked around, feeling the weight of the other designers' gazes on him, knowing that they had all witnessed what had just happened. But he also felt a newfound sense of power, of being a part of something bigger than himself.

Hyunjin leaned back against the table, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. His eyes met M/n's, and there was a smug satisfaction in them that M/n couldn't quite place. "Well," he said, his voice still husky from their exertions, "I think that's enough for today. You all have your assignments. Get back to your desks and make me proud."

As the other designers began to file out of the room, murmuring amongst themselves, M/n lingered behind, still feeling the aftershocks of their encounter. Hyunjin placed a hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the door. "Come on, M/n," he whispered in his ear, "let's go back to my office and discuss your performance today."

[greengoblinswifey]

𝑭𝒂𝒎𝒆’𝒔 𝑬𝒅𝒈𝒆 ・₊✧🩶 Part I

Pairing— Nicholas Chavez x Model!Reader

Warnings— Mentions of drugs and alcohol, Substance Use, Mature Themes.

A/N— Comment to be a part of the tag list, hope you enjoy this series <3

Series Masterlist

The glossy conference room table reflected the headline of the magazine tossed unceremoniously in front of you.

“America’s New Wild Child: From Runways to Rock Bottom”

Below it was a photo of you stumbling into a hotel lobby, visibly intoxicated, mascara smeared, and your once-iconic dress askew. It wasn’t just one headline, it was everywhere. Every blog, tabloid, and gossip page seemed to have some variation of your downfall plastered across their pages.

Your manager, Angela, sighed heavily from across the table, rubbing her temples. “You see this, right? The Shade Room picked it up. TMZ is all over it. Even Vogue is doing a piece on whether or not you’re the next Kate Moss, but not in a good way.” She leaned forward, her voice sharp. “You’re toxic right now. Nobody wants to touch you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “This isn’t true. My ex-best friend—she’s jealous. She made this all up.”

Angela gave you a pointed look and slid her iPad across the table. On it was a video—paparazzi footage of you from a few nights ago. You were stumbling out of a car, practically being carried by someone, slurring your words as you waved off photographers.

You groaned and pressed your fingers to your temples. “Y’all please, that was one time.”

“It’s never just one time with you!” snapped Melanie, one of the executives at your agency. “This is becoming a pattern. And we’re not here to babysit you.” She stood, exasperated. “You’re one of the highest-paid models in the world, and now look at you. You’re a liability.”

Angela raised a hand to calm the room. “Give me a few days,” she said, her voice firm. “I’ll clean this up. We’ll fix her image. She’ll be the ‘it girl’ again. I just need time.”

Melanie crossed her arms but didn’t argue. “Fix it fast. Otherwise, we’re done.”

As the meeting wrapped up, you sat silently, staring at the incriminating headlines. After years of grueling work, endless runway shows, and clawing your way to the top, it was all unraveling because of your past addictions and your inability to leave it behind.

Angela pulled you aside as the others left. “You need to clean this up. No more excuses. No more scandals. And definitely no more drunken or high paparazzi shots. Got it?”

You nodded numbly. “Got it.”

“Good. Now, start small. Let’s use that mansion of yours. Throw a party. Invite everyone who matters. Show them the glamorous, sophisticated version of yourself. Make them forget the messy headlines.”

Your lips curved into a small, defiant smile. “A party? That, I can do.”

2 Days Later

The house practically glittered under the LA moonlight, perched in the most exclusive part of the city. Your glam team buzzed around you, perfecting every inch of your hair and makeup as you sipped champagne. Outside the window, you noticed the usually dark house next door was now bustling with activity.

“Looks like someone’s moving in,” you said absently, gesturing with your glass. From the corner of your eye, you saw a guy carrying a box inside. He looked young, around your age maybe two years older, and vaguely attractive, though you didn’t pay much attention.

“Maybe he’ll be better than the last neighbors,” you joked to your stylist, smirking. “If he’s cute, I might even invite him to the party.”

As the night fell, the party roared to life. The mansion was packed with models, actors, and influencers. Music pounded through the walls, and laughter echoed in every corner. You danced like you had something to prove, the champagne flowing freely. At one point, you made out with a fellow model on the balcony to the cheers of a crowd. You were chaos incarnate, and you loved every second of it.

Around midnight, you were helping a tipsy friend into a waiting limo when you noticed someone approaching from the house next door.

“Excuse me.”

You turned, your vision slightly blurred, and found yourself face-to-face with the new neighbor. He was dressed casually—jeans and a hoodie—but his sharp jawline and piercing eyes caught your attention.

“I’m Nicholas,” he said, offering a tight smile. “Nicholas Chavez. I just moved in.”

You arched a brow, leaning lazily against the limo. “And?”

“And I have an audition tomorrow,” he continued, his tone calm but firm. “Your music is loud, and I can’t sleep.”

You laughed, the champagne fizzing in your head. “Well, didn’t you know who you were moving in next to?”

His lips twitched, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I found out too late,” he said dryly, a pointed reference to the headlines.

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Funny. I’ve never seen a single headline about you.”

This time, he chuckled softly, though it was more condescending than amused. “Well, I’ll try to keep it that way.” His gaze flicked down briefly before meeting your eyes again.

You noticed, scoffing. “Nice try, but staring at my chest isn’t going to make me turn the music down.”

“Noted,” he replied smoothly, his tone unreadable. “But seriously, could you tone it down? Just a little?”

You waved him off, turning back toward the house. “Good luck with your audition.”

The door slammed behind you as the party continued to rage on. Whatever Nicholas Chavez wanted, it could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, you were untouchable—or so you thought.

You weren’t worried Nicholas would turn out like your last neighbors, the ones who had gleefully run to the press with tales of your ‘wild, disruptive parties’ adding fuel to your already blazing reputation as a noisy party girl.

The party raged on, and you weren’t exactly innocent in keeping it under control. The music blasted as guests danced, smoked, and drank with abandon. Lines of coke were casually set out on mirrored trays, and you caught more than one person lighting up joints in the corners. Even you, despite promising yourself you were done with that lifestyle, gave in after a few glasses of champagne, doing a line or two when a friend coaxed you into it.

By the time the sun started to rise, people were passed out on your marble floors, the air heavy with the stench of spilled liquor and smoke. You stumbled to bed without bothering to clean up, the haze of the night swirling in your head.

You woke to the sound of chaos downstairs—your housekeepers already hard at work, scrubbing every inch of the aftermath. Your head pounded as sunlight streamed in through your curtains. Groaning, you grabbed your phone from the nightstand and blinked at the time. It was already midday.

Dozens of missed calls and messages from Angela stared back at you. She’d been blowing up your phone about a last-minute shoot, one you had completely missed. You cursed under your breath, knowing she’d be furious.

Dragging yourself out of bed, you shuffled into the bathroom for a long, scalding shower. As the water poured over you, you couldn’t help but rethink the night before. You’d promised to get it together, to clean up your image, but it was getting harder to hold yourself accountable.

After drying off, you wrapped yourself in a silk robe and walked to your window. Across the lawn, you noticed Nicholas pulling into his driveway. He stepped out of his car looking exhausted, a coffee in hand, wearing a nice suit. You figured he must have just returned from his audition. It must’ve been early. For a brief moment, guilt pricked at you. If he hadn’t gotten much sleep last night, it was probably your fault.

Angela didn’t wait for you to sit down when you arrived at her office. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she snapped, slamming her laptop shut as you walked in.

“I’m sorry, A,” you began, your voice hoarse from the night before.

“Sorry?” she cut you off, standing up and pacing the room. “Do you know what I’ve been dealing with all morning?” She grabbed a folder from her desk and threw it onto the coffee table in front of you. A stack of printouts slid out, screenshots of articles and photos from the party.

The headlines were brutal: “A Drug-Fueled Disaster: Is Y/N Destroying the Modeling Industry?”

Photos showed passed-out models, trays of coke, and worst of all, a video of you taking a line.

You froze, your stomach twisting into knots.

Angela slammed her hands on the desk. “This was supposed to be elegant, extravagant, a chance to clean up your image. Instead, you turned it into some rockstar-adjacent drug den!”

“I didn’t know people were recording,” you said weakly, avoiding her glare.

“That’s not the point!” she barked. “You were supposed to set an example. Little black girls look up to you. This is the image you’re giving them?”

You exhaled sharply, frustrated. “Angela, with all due respect, I’m not their mother. I didn’t ask to be anyone’s role model.”

She rolled her eyes, her frustration palpable. “Well, congratulations, because you’re not much of one anyway. This is your last chance. Do you hear me? Last chance.”

You nodded quickly, desperate to make it right. “I’ll fix it. I swear.”

“I already have something cooking up,” she said sharply, leaning against her desk. “But in the meantime, go downtown, look beautiful, and give them something positive to talk about. No booze, no drugs, no nonsense. Just smile, shop, and sign autographs. Sober.”

You groaned inwardly at the thought of dragging yourself out in public, especially hungover, but you didn’t dare push back. “Got it.”

Your driver dropped you off at one of the most exclusive shopping districts in the city. Bodyguards lingered in the background as you strolled from boutique to boutique, taking your time and letting the paparazzi get their shots.

Every time someone asked for an autograph, you smiled warmly and obliged, posing with fans here and there. This was your coping mechanism—shopping your problems away, hoping the public would eat it up.

“Looking good, Y/N!” one of the paparazzi shouted as you exited a store with bags in hand.

You forced another smile, playing your part, and waved at the cameras before ducking into the backseat of your car.

When you arrived home, the guilt from last night gnawed at you. You couldn’t undo the noise and chaos, but maybe you could soften the blow. After all, Nicholas didn’t deserve to suffer because of your mess. Deciding to make amends, you ordered a small cake from a local bakery with “Welcome” scrawled neatly in frosting.

Holding the cake, you made your way next door and rang his doorbell. At first, there was no response, and for a brief moment, you wondered if he was ignoring you. Maybe he had seen the articles and already formed an opinion. The thought annoyed you, but just as you were about to turn away, the door opened.

Nicholas stood there in joggers and a fitted t-shirt, his face a mix of surprise and curiosity. His hair was slightly disheveled, and he looked like he’d just rolled out of bed. His eyes dropped to the cake in your hands.

“Hi, neighbor,” you said with a small, sheepish smile.

He raised an eyebrow, reading the icing. “Welcome?”

“It’s for you,” you explained. “To welcome you to the neighborhood. And, uh, sorry about last night.”

His surprise lingered as he stepped aside to let you in. “Didn’t strike you as the generous, ‘welcome-with-cake’ kind of girl,” he said as you followed him into his sleek, modern kitchen.

The place was immaculate—white marble countertops, stainless steel appliances, and tasteful art on the walls. He set a glass down on the counter and gestured toward a barstool for you to sit.

“Well,” he added with a smirk, “especially not after a night like that. I’m surprised you’re even standing.”

You groaned, slumping into the chair. “Please don’t tell me you’ve seen the articles.”

He grabbed a knife to cut the cake. “The articles, the pictures, the videos, yeah, I’ve seen them.”

You groaned again, covering your face with your hands. “Great. Just what I needed. My new neighbor thinking I’m a train wreck.”

“Not thinking anything,” he said casually, slicing into the cake. His tone was calm, nonchalant. You couldn’t read him, and it annoyed you. Was he judging you? Laughing at you? You couldn’t tell.

You cleared your throat. “Anyway, welcome to the neighborhood. And again, sorry for the noise.”

He placed two plates on the counter, handing one to you. “Thanks. Want to eat this with me? That’s if you’re one of those rare models who actually eat carbs and don’t starve themselves.”

You shot him a pointed look. “Don’t joke about that. And yes, I’ll have a slice. Or two.”

He chuckled softly, taking a seat across from you. As you ate, you studied him a little closer. His face was sharp, striking, he was definitely good-looking, though in a boy-next-door-meets-Hollywood kind of way. Then it hit you where you’d seen him before.

“You’ve been everywhere lately,” you said, setting your fork down. “You were in that Lyle and Erik Menendez show, right?”

He looked up, surprised. “You watched it?”

“I caught the first episode,” you admitted. “It was really good. Intense, but good.”

“Thanks,” he said, his expression softening. “It was a tough project, but worth it.”

You leaned back in your seat. “Hollywood’s a mess. Be careful.”

He nodded. “I’ll do my best.”

The conversation felt easy, almost too easy. Sitting across from him, you couldn’t help but notice how his t-shirt hugged his chest and arms, or the way his jaw tensed when he chewed. You realized, with a twinge of irritation, that you were definitely attracted to him. The idea of tearing his clothes off flashed through your mind, but you quickly shoved it aside.

You had too much going on to add that kind of complication to your life. Besides, sex was supposed to be the last thing on your mind right now.

Standing abruptly, you pushed your chair back. “I should go. Thanks for letting me crash your place. Enjoy the cake.”

He walked you to the door. “If I need anything, should I come knocking?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I don’t plan on babysitting you, but sure, I guess.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Noted, neighbor.”

The moment you stepped through the door, your phone buzzed. Angela’s name flashed across the screen.

“Good,” she said briskly when you answered. “You’re home. I’ll be at your place first thing in the morning.”

“Why?” you asked cautiously.

“There’s a plan,” she said, her tone leaving no room for questions. “I’ll explain everything then, and we’ll put it in motion. Be ready.”

She hung up before you could respond. You stared at the phone, curiosity swirling in your chest. Whatever she was planning, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement. If this was your chance to claw your way back into the spotlight, you’d take it.

For now, you poured yourself a glass of water, settling into the couch as you tried to shake off the day. Tomorrow was a new start—or so you hoped.

[lipglossanon]

Out of the Blue

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

Office Exec!Leon S. Kennedy x Personal Asst fem!reader

Shoutout to the AO3 user who requested this little ditty 😆 I hope you enjoy it!! 👉👈🥺

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, office sex, dirty talk, dacryphilia, nipple play, mean Leon, unprotected sex

Title from Out of the Blue by Purrple Cat

part ii

* ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ► ◄ ◊ ►*

A recent corporate merger meant big changes for you; you’ve been working as the personal assistant of the (then) Vice President of Communications, but with this new management coming in, that guy had been shifted and you were getting a totally new boss.

Nervously, you’ve been straightening up the office in the hopes of making a good impression— and thereby keeping your position. No one on your floor knew who the new guy was, only a name to go off of: Leon S. Kennedy.

Once you feel like there’s nothing more to be done, you step out of the VP’s office and make your way to the mini kitchen used as a break room down the hall. Hoping that a glass of water might cool your nerves, you don’t even notice the man standing on the other side of the room flipping through a folder.

His eyes track your movements, catching your jittery hands and teeth biting your bottom lip.

You nearly drop your glass when he clears his throat. Whirling around, you give him a shy smile.

“H-hi,” you smooth down your skirt, “you’re one of the new hires?”

A handful of people on your office floor were still coming and going, learning the layout and at times just hanging out in the break room until someone came in to help guide them. You helped a girl just yesterday find her desk, so you don’t think anything of this newcomer.

A slow smile spreads across his handsome face, intense blue eyes staring into your own.

“You can say that, sweetheart.”

You feel flustered at the name but step forward, hand outstretched, “Oh uh, welcome aboard. If you need any help, just let me know. Right now I’m stationed outside the vice president’s office.”

His eyebrows raise slightly, ignoring your offered handshake, “You’re the secretary?”

You ignore the flash of irritation from hearing ‘secretary’ and slowly lower your hand, “I prefer personal assistant.”

“Ahh,” he looks at you amusedly, and before your hand can drop any further he reaches out to clasp it.

He drops a kiss on the back of your hand, eyes still watching you, a smirk playing at his lips.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet my personal assistant.”

You feel hot and embarrassed, but keep the polite smile on your face, “I’m sure the pleasure is mine, Mr. Kennedy.”

:::::

After that mortifying encounter, your days pass pretty smoothly with your new boss. You feel lucky that he decided to keep you on as his assistant even with that awkward first impression.

After a few weeks, you start to catch him staring at you out of the corner of your eye—but when you turn, his attention is elsewhere. He also seems to touch you at every given opportunity. He touches your arm when he’s walking with you or presses a palm into your lower back when he’s moving around you to his seat in the conference room. He gets as close as possible when you’re typing up his reports or dropping something off at his desk for his signature. It always leaves you with butterflies.

Another work week rolls by and before you can blink, it’s been months since you’ve started to work for Leon. A few of your work colleagues like to corner you in the break room to try and get any gossip— who’s he seeing? Did he really come in twenty minutes late last Monday? What do you mean you didn’t hear that Chris saw him at the strip club?

It’s gotten to the point that you start taking your breaks at your desk. Leon notices it almost immediately and makes sure to stop by your desk from time to time. Today is no different.

“Tired of the office gossip?” He props his hip against your desk, arms crossed over his chest as he looks down at you.

You notice that he folded the sleeves of his shirt so you can see the muscles in his forearms flex. Dragging your gaze upwards with a small shake of your head, you smile at him.

“You can say that,” you pinch the bridge of you nose, “it’s all just..”

“Bullshit.”

Your eyes widen as you stifle a laugh, “I was going to say tiresome, sir.”

He smirks, “Sure thing, honey. Listen, I’m going to need you to stay late tonight. I know it’s Friday, but those weekly statistics have to be in before midnight.”

Your brows furrow, “I thought we were good; didn’t I just compile that data yesterday?”

He clicks his tongue, “‘fraid not, sweetheart. That was projections for the latest quarter.”

“Oh,” you chew your lip, “yeah, that’s no problem, Mr. Kennedy. Want me to drop them off on your desk when I’m finished?”

“Yes, thank you,” he brushes a few strands of hair from your face, making your breath hitch.

Before you can say anything, Leon straightens up from your desk and heads back into his office, door shutting behind him.

You press your palms to your eyes, willing the flutter of nervousness to ease. Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, you slump in your chair. You sigh and turn back to your monitor. Glancing at the time in the lower right hand, it reads fifteen after four; with everyone going home at five, you have a good feeling you’re going to end up staying even later than you thought.

You rotate your wrists and then go into your emails. Better to get started on it now than later.

::::

Your eyes feel dry and gritty, but you ignore it in favor of finishing out the last of this report.

“Finally,” you whisper gleefully, hitting the print button on the document.

Standing up, you stretch out your arms with a small yawn. Looking at the time you see it’s nearly half past ten. Still plenty of time for you to grab some takeout and crash in your comfy bed. You sigh happily at that thought and gather up the printed pages, heading over to Leon’s office.

Tapping on the door, you open it a crack, “Sir?”

“Come in, sweetheart. I won’t bite.”

You push open the door just enough to step inside. It clicks shut behind you as you walk further into the room. Leon is backlit by the city lights from his windows. You place the bundle of papers down on his desk.

“Take a look at this,” he gestures to his own dimly lit monitor.

Walking around the wide oak desk, you make your way to stand beside his chair.

After gazing at the screen for a second, you turn to him with a frown, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m looking at, sir.”

He smirks at you lazily, “Sure you do.”

“Wh—“

He grabs your hips and pulls you down into his lap, your thighs now straddling one leg. Your hands come up to brace against his shoulders while his slacks rub against your bare thighs where your skirt’s rucked up.

“Leon,” you gasp, eyes wide and nervous.

“Name sounds so good in your mouth, sweetheart,” his low voice breathes into your ear.

He drops a soft kiss on your neck, leaving a heated trail up to your jaw. Pulling back, you can see how dark his eyes have gotten.

“Been waiting forever to get you alone.”

“We can’t. I’m your—“

“Personal assistant,” he chuckles meanly, “I know, baby. And I’m going to use you for very personal reasons.”

He grips your hair in a fist and guides your mouth down in his. Your parted lips lets him slip his tongue into your mouth. Groaning, he grabs your ass with his free hand and urges you to roll your hips forward.

You whine, feeling so hot and dizzy, clit thrumming with arousal. You follow the guidance of his hand and start to grind your hips down into his leg. You eagerly suck on his tongue when he thrusts it back into your mouth. You feel him groan low in his chest and it makes you arch into him more.

He tugs your head back to take in your blitzed out expression.

“Baby, we haven’t even started yet,” he coos, “got you cockdrunk already huh.”

“Leon,” you whimper, hips rocking on his lap.

“Gonna get my pants soaking wet baby,” his eyes drop down to the apex of your thighs, “fuck, that’s it, good fucking girl.”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, wrinkling the fabric of his designer shirt.

“Knew you’d be so fucking sweet, always letting me touch you, get so fucking shy,” he growls, pulling your hair harder to tilt your neck back, “gonna ruin this little cunt, baby.”

You whine, humping down into his leg harder, slick pooling in your panties and dripping all over his slacks.

“Fuck, good girl, always so good for me,” he lets go of your hair to grip your neck, “always so eager to please.”

He presses his thumb into your panting mouth; he presses down onto your tongue before pulling his thumb free and smearing spit all over your lips.

You can’t stop whining, tears beading at your lash line.

“Leon, please.”

He lets go of his grip on you, and reaches out to tug open your button up blouse.

“Look at those fucking tits, baby,” he purrs, pulling the cups of your bra down until your breasts are completely bare—aching nipples on display.

He greedily mouths at each breast and sucks on your nipples, teeth catching on the sensitive buds until you’re clawing at his shoulders.

“Good girl,” he praises, feeling you shudder at the endearment, “you’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

“So good for you, Leon,” you promise.

As you speak, he undoes your bra and tosses it somewhere in the office. Then, he drags his fingers across the swell of your breasts. He circles your sensitive nipples, thumbs brushing the slowly hardening buds.

Your breath hitches, arousal pulsing in your cunt, “Leon...”

“Bet I can make you come from this,” he husks, “make a complete mess of you from just teasing your tits.”

Your spine arches, pressing up into his hands, “Ahh, they’re too sensitive.”

Leon completely ignores you and tugs your nipples gently, softly tweaking them before soothing them with slow drags of his index fingers.

Panting, your hands twist in the fabric of his shirt. Your clit throbs with every brush against your nipples, but you can’t stop yourself from pressing up into every touch.

Everything that Leon’s doing is making more slick pool in your panties. You’re so wet, it’s seeping into where Leon’s slacks are pressed against your pussy. You can feel the hard press of his cock against you and it sends a thrill up your spine knowing you’re the cause.

“So eager for me, honey,” he teases, voice pitched low, “I want you to take your clothes off.”

“Yes, sir,” you nervously agree, shimmying out of your blouse and skirt quickly.

“Leave the panties on for now,” his dark eyes locked onto your white panties, nearly transparent from how wet they’ve become.

Settling down on Leon, you straddle his thighs, your legs dangling off the sides of the chair. You bring your arms up to tangle your fingers in his hair. You give a small tug and roll your hips down against the outline of Leon’s hard cock. In retaliation, Leon gives your nipples a sharp tug then tweaks them as you writhe in his grasp.

“Look how wet you are, honey,” he groans, gaze drawn to the slick dripping from your panties, “so fucking sexy.”

Your eyes droop in pleasure at those words a low sigh leaving your lips.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” Leon growls out, letting his gaze roam across your swollen nipples up to your dazed expression, “always so sweet, making me want to do the worst things to you.”

“Yeah?” You whimper.

“Want you under my desk at the next conference call, sucking my cock while I’m trying to work,” he drags one of his hands from your chest up to your lips; he slips first two fingers into your mouth.

“Actually just want you in here on your knees at my beck and call. Just keep the door locked and nobody’ll know my little secretary is sucking off her boss during work hours,” he presses his fingers deeper into your mouth.

You whine and suckle on them softly. He pulls them out with a soft pop.

“Touch me, please, sir,” you whisper as he drags those fingers down to your puffy nipples.

Leon sucks a hard nipple into his mouth as his right hand teases across the other with quick flicks of his damp fingers. He swaps sides, his gaze watching you bite your lip and toss your head back at the pleasure. Pulling away a little, Leon grabs each breast and presses them inward. He runs his tongue from one nipple to the other more easily, suckling them until you squirm in his lap.

“You’re gonna be working a lot of overtime, sweetheart,” he murmurs into your skin, “my own personal hole to use when I want.”

You keen high in your throat, “Sir!”

Leon groans low in his chest and rolls his hips upward to grind his cock against your hot wet cunt, nearly jostling you from his lap. In the motion, Leon’s sharp teeth tugs on a nipple earning a breathy sigh from your lips. He swaps to the other nipple, using his teeth so you’ll reward him with more of those sounds. After repeatedly teasing each nipple with his teeth, you tug at his hair in a silent plea to slow down. He eases off from biting to soft, gentle sucks.

“Love your tits, baby,” he mouths at your nipples, “been wanting to taste these nipples since I started working here.”

You cry out at the hot, wet suction of Leon’s mouth on your sore nipples. Your back curves forward to press your chest closer to his hungry teeth and tongue. You tangle your fingers further in his hair to have something to hold onto. Grinding your hips down, you feel more than hear him moan. You repeat the motion only this time your clit grinds against Leon’s slacks, earning a low cry of want.

“Leon,” you whimper.

He only hums in reply as he keeps up the hot suction on each hardened nub. You try rolling your hips again only to be stopped by a strong grip on your waist.

“You only get to cum from this,” Leon rumbles, voice deep as his tongue lashes against your abused nipple, “be a good girl for me or you won’t get anything.”

You mewl, clit pulsing in arousal, “I’ll be good, sir, I promise.”

He moves your hands to drape across his broad shoulders, “Don’t let your hands drop below my shoulders. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

A sharp tug of teeth on your nipple has you arching in pleasurable pain. Your hands slide up into his hair again to hold him in place, worshiping your chest.

“So perfect,” Leon murmurs, lazily mouthing his way up to your neck.

“So sweet for me,” he speaks against your skin, gently kissing across your collar bones before pulling away.

You feel dizzy and aroused, tugging Leon’s hair to pull him into a soft kiss. He groans low in his chest, pressing you harder against him as he licks into your mouth. He teasingly nips at your bottom lip, sucking on it gently before slipping his tongue further in. You moan in response, loving the feel of his slick tongue teasing your own. His hands came up and grip your hair, tilting your head at an angle where he can kiss you even deeper than before.

Before long the kiss became sloppy and wet, but neither of you really care. You can’t stop whining in pleasure as Leon fucks into your mouth, tongue hot as it teases your own. Chest rumbling in pleasure, Leon draws your tongue into his mouth to suck on it greedily. You slip your tongue away to pull his plump bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling gently before softly sucking. You drag your teeth aggressively against Leon’s lip, tongue following in silent apology for the rough treatment.

Leon growls and pulls back far enough for you to let his lip go with a small pout. His cock twitches at how debauched you look. Pupils blown wide with lust, lips kiss swollen. He moves his hands from your hair to grip your hips. You know his hold’s tight enough to bruise but you only moan in appreciation. You dip your head down to recapture his lips, but he pulls back so your mouths only brush across each other.

You whimper at Leon withholding his lips from you.

“I want to hear how you sound once you cum,” he murmurs, lips brushing against yours tantalizingly.

Fingers begin to roughly pinch and rub your swollen, sore nipples. His dark blue eyes never leave yours as you edge closer and closer to orgasm, your cunt copiously dribbling slick.

“I’m so close, Leon,” you whimper, trying your best not to grind down.

Leon smirks, “Guess I should slow down, huh?”

His fingers lightly tease over the hard peaks. His gaze drops from yours to take in the swollen nipples his fingers are touching. He groans aloud as he can’t deny himself another taste. You grip his head as Leon eagerly laps at your nipples, running his tongue across each one before gently biting.

“Please,” you beg, “Leon!”

Leon bites down harder on your left nipple as he gives the right a sharp twist. Your eyes roll back in your head as Leon gets even more aggressive. Harsh bites followed by a hot soothing tongue has your cunt dripping and needy.

“Like it rough, baby?”

You only moan wantonly in reply as Leon never lets up the assault on your abused chest. You continue to gasp and moan in the empty office.

Leon’s being so rough on you and you love it. Want him to pin you down right here and now. Make you cum all over yourself. Make you take his thick cock over and over.

Leon pulls away with a growl, pupils blown, “Honey, you can’t say things like that.”

You suddenly realize you had spoken out loud— babbling, just spouting out whatever crossed your mind. You’re so far gone now, high on arousal.

“I-I can’t help it,” you pant, “it’s so good, sir.”

“I know, my slutty little secretary just can’t help herself,” he pulls away from your chest, “she’s just gagging for her boss’ dick, right?”

You whimper, back arching, “N-no, I’m—“

“Shhh,” he thumbs open the button on his slacks, “was gonna wait but you need it more than I thought.”

He presses the fabric down until he frees his cock. He tugs your panties to the side and presses the fat head of his dick inside your wet hole.

“Was gonna make you cum from your tits but I think this might be a bit better, huh,” he grins, eyes dark and mean.

He doesn’t give you anytime to adjust and fucks up into you, grabbing your hips to pull you down at the same time. You scream from the too much feeling in your spasming cunt.

“Oh,” he groans, “tight as a fucking virgin.”

He smacks your ass with a condescending laugh, “Did I pop your cherry, sweetheart?”

Crying now, you shake your head no.

“Aww,” he mockingly pouts at you, “that’s too bad then.”

Without waiting for your pussy to adjust, he pulls out halfway to bully his fat cock back into your aching hole.

“Sir, please, I can’t,” your breath hitches on a cry, “s’too big. It hurts.”

“Fuck,” he pulls you down until his cock is buried deep in your pussy, “my big cock too much for this needy hole?”

You hiccup a sob, “Please, sir.”

“Mmm you’ll get used to it,” he pulls out til just the tip is teasing your hole then shoves his cock back deep inside your pussy.

You’re crying and clinging onto his shoulders, but a low heat is slowly building in your abdomen.

“There we go,” he coos, “just needed to fuck you a little first, honey.”

He stopped thrusting and you realize you’re the one grinding down onto his dick—a panting mouth, hazy eyed mess.

You whine but can’t stop your hips from rolling down onto the thick cock stretching you out so painfully.

“Good girl,” he smacks your ass again and you moan.

“You can ride this dick whenever you want, honey, just gotta ask,” he smirks, guiding your hips to fuck down harder.

“Yes, sir,” you slur, brain fuzzy from how deep he’s inside your cunt.

“Little slut,” he laughs, thumb brushing against your clit in slow circles, “cream my cock, honey. Want you squeezing on me when I breed that little pussy.”

You moan loudly, hips humping down on his cock, “Leon!”

“That’s right,” he groans low in his chest, “gonna creampie your sweet little cunt.”

His voice and hard cock, paired with the thumb on your clit, is edging you closer and closer to climax.

“Sir, ‘m close,” you pant, tears dripping from your eyes, “gonna cum, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“That’s it, honey,” he tilts his head down and pulls his thumb away from your clit.

He spits on your pussy, globs of drool dripping down the hood of your clit. He brings his thumb back to rub the slippery mess over and over and over into your sensitive bud.

Your back arches, eyes rolling back, as you clamp down on his pistoning dick. Slick coats his cock as you cum, pussy walls squeezing him like a vice.

“Fuck yeah,” he chuckles, thumb still pressing into your clit, “cream my cock so I can fill up that cunt.”

Your thighs jump and twitch from overstimulation as he keeps teasing your clit and grinding his cock deep in your pussy.

“Take it, honey, fucking take it,” he grits out, snapping his hips up into your squelching hole and pumping you full of hot cum.

You moan brokenly, pussy fluttering around his throbbing cock, liking how it feels to get creampied by your boss.

He leans back into his chair with a sigh, “Damn, gotta say that’s been worth the months of us dancing around each other.”

Your head feels totally empty so you only hum in response.

“Did I fuck you dumb, sweetheart?” He smirks, tweaking your nipples making you squeal, “s’okay, we got all weekend to do this. Just need you back in business by Monday.”

[bueckers]

𝓡EBOUND ━━━ paige bueckers ( 1 )

synopsis: when college basketball stars paige’s and leia’s relationship crashes and burns, it was obvious it definitely wasn’t supposed to turn out that way. and despite the hatred they show, somebody’s gotta crack.

pairing: paige bueckers x female oc

warnings: not much just light angst and lore filling!

notes: newwww fic series! so excited for this one so brace yourselves for all the sexual chemistry in the world.. paige wants that cookie real bad like ???

flashback, 2022, november.

paige’s point of view.

Leia and I sat side by side at the press conference table, microphones in front of us and the UConn backdrop behind. The team’s third win of the season was secured, and I couldn’t be happier to have done it with her. There’s a different adrenaline about college ball, and to experience it playing with Leia Barlowe was another feeling entirely.

A reporter stood up, clearing his throat, drawing my attention. “Leia, can you tell us about your dynamic on the court tonight? You and Paige seemed to have an almost telepathic connection.”

Leia glanced at me, her eyes sparkling with that familiar glint—the one that made her look like she was up to something. God, I loved that look. “Oh, you know, Paige and I just have that fifth sense. She can read me like a book.”

“Fifth sense?” I mused, stifling back a laugh. I glanced down at her lips for a moment, the same ones that were dangerously close to her microphone. I’m not dumb and I know this will get read into lately.. but I really couldn’t help it.

“Yeah, that ‘Peia’ effect or whatever they call it.” She still doesn’t realize that she said fifth instead of sixth.

The entire table laughed, not expecting her answer, I assume. She truly is a people’s person, but I like to think everyone is just a Leia person. How could you ever hate her? Leia had been media trained since she was in middle school filming commercials, so seeing her loosen up was a different thing. Not saying I hated it, though. The edits are pretty funny sometimes.

I leaned forward, letting my elbow graze hers, a deliberate but subtle touch. I knew what I was doing. “Yeah, Leia and I have played together for years and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. We spend so much time together, you know? We practically finish each other’s—”

“—sentences,” Leia finished, laughing softly and rolling her eyes. “Or plays, in this case.”

The topic shifted to Dorka and Evina soon after, who had outdone themselves tonight. As the reporters’ focus moved away from us, I glanced over at Leia, watching as her ponytail swung behind her and she rested her head in her palm. Just looking ridiculously fine on a game night. I had a knowing smirk on my face, one that always catches.

Her eyes darted to me, eyebrows furrowing. “What?”

I shook my head, clicking my teeth and shaking my head. “Nothin’.”

present day, 2023, november.

paige’s point of view.

By senior year of playing college ball, you’d think the nervousness of a press conference would decrease by now… wrong.

Well, maybe I’m nervous for a different reason.

I sat at the table, my shoulders slumped and the bottom half of my ponytail tucked into my black hoodie. I chewed on my lip while trying to keep my composure under the blinding lights and the unrelenting barrage of camera flashes. Focus on the game. I adjusted the microphone in front of me, forcing a smile as the first reporter stood up, ready to throw the first pitch.

“Bueckers, amazing game tonight! You led your team to victory. How do you feel about your performance?” Damn, she even looked like the one to prode. The ones that are good at their job.

I leaned forward, flashing a confident grin nonetheless. “Thanks. It felt great. I’m so excited to be back on the court, you know? And the team just really clicks. Everyone brought their A-game tonight, and I don’t think i’ll ever get tired of playing with these guys.”

The reporter nodded, jotting down notes. I saw the next question forming in her eyes, and my stomach tightened. Why was I getting this worked up over a question? The answer was Leia Barlowe. I’m trying to erase her… make her not exist. But it’s incredibly hard.

She looked up. Focus on the game. “Paige, this was your first game against former friend and teammate Leia Barlowe since she transferred. Can you tell us about that experience and how it is not playing with her for the first time?”

She stared at me for what felt like ages, awaiting a response. I suppose everyone knew something went down with her, but it didn’t mean it was their business. It was like supporters could feel energy shifts through a screen, and if you feel that, imagine how the people in the room felt.

My smile faltered slightly, and I breathed in, attempting to rush my words out. I tried to keep my expression and answer neutral. It gave everyone enough room to interpret it any way they wanted. “Playing against Leia was intense. She’s a fantastic player, and it’s always a challenge to match up against her.”

The reporter scribbled down my answer, not satisfied, of course. Another one jumped in, relentless.

“Paige, you and Leia had a strong dynamic on and off the court. Do you think her transfer has affected the team’s chemistry?”

Seriously? I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay composed. “The team’s chemistry is great. We’ve all worked hard to build strong relationships and support each other. Leia’s a great player, and we miss her, but we’re focused on the future.”

Of course it affected us. Of course it affected me.

Another reporter jumped in, sensing the tension. “Paige, there have been rumors about the reasons behind Leia’s transfer. Can you shed some light on that?”

I wanted to scream. To tell them to shut the hell up about Leia. I didn’t wanna talk about her. But I couldn’t. I licked my lips, scrunching my face up before whining out into an answer. “I’m not going to speculate on rumors. Leia made the best decision for her, and I respect that. We’re all here to play basketball and do our best for our teams.. that’s it.”

We weren’t like this last year. Who would’ve thought around this time i’d be saying I respect her. Not that she’s my ‘best friend’ and I’ll always be supportive, but that I respect her.

The truth was, the rumors barely scratched the surface. The endless arguments, the mistrust, the media blowing everything out of proportion—it was like living in a pressure cooker. We both cracked under the strain, and it tore us apart.

I’d taught myself to be thankful. That it was bound to happen eventually when we chose to go down the further road. Leia Barlowe and I are cordial, and no, I wouldn’t particularly wanna be stuck in a room with her anymore.

The questions kept coming, and I kept dodging anything that had a slight indication of her, giving just enough to satisfy them without saying too much. Finally, the press conference wrapped up, and I stood without a ‘goodbye’ or ‘have a nice night.’ Just a stone cold smile and the screeching of the chair pushing back against the floor. Should’ve focused on the game.