#did you guess who my favorite one is yet?

[whimsiwitchy]

he's hooked (oneshot)

hugh jackman x actress!reader

summary: y/n is an actress in her early 20’s. after having the best night of her career, Hugh Jackman introduces himself. the two stars hook up in the venue's bathroom and for y/n it was nothing but a one night stand. However, Hugh becomes obsessed and can’t let her go so easily.

warnings: use of y/n, she/her pronouns, age gap (22/55), smut, protected vaginal penetration, dirty talk, reader is kinda cocky, hugh is very persistent, reader mentions age gap a lot, oral (f receiving), one use of daddy (in a playful way), bathroom sex.

authors note: y'all I am trying my absolute best to write smut. this is my second attempt and while i'm not super proud of it, I am proud of myself for trying. practice makes perfect I guess lol. anyways, I hope you enjoy. (sorry if it sucks butt) love y'all <33

 Tonight felt like a dream. It was the 97th Academy Awards and you had won your first Oscar for best actress. When your name was called, you were completely shocked. The category was filled with nominees that you had looked up to your entire life and you genuinely thought you had no shot of winning. You were completely honored to win such an award so early into your career. After the ceremony was over, most of the attendees made their way over to the Oscars Governors Ball, which was one of the few after parties that are held annually after the event. It felt surreal to be in a place full of Hollywood's biggest names and it was even crazier that you were now one of them. You were currently sitting at the bar waiting for a drink when a deep accented voice spoke. “Congratulations on your big win tonight. You deserve it.” When you look over to see who was speaking, you’re met with a very handsome Hugh Jackman. “Oh thank you. Congrats to you too, best actor.” Your tone is teasing yet sincere. “I’m Hugh.” He offers his hand to shake, which you take. “I know who you are, Mr.Jackman. I’m y/n.” You shake his hand firmly, letting it go right after. “I know who you are, Ms. y/l/n.” He joked back and you let out a small laugh. You look forward as the bartender sits your drink in front of you and you give him a quick thank you. From the corner of your eye, you can see Hugh’s eyes trail your body. “Did you just check me out?” You turn your head to face him. “It’s hard not to when you look that good.” Hugh says without missing a beat. “Aren’t you married? I don’t think your wife would appreciate you hitting on a twenty two year old.” You give him an accusing look. He lifts his left hand, showing off his bare ring finger. “I'm divorced, babe.” You almost miss the smirk that rests on his bearded face. 

“Hm. Well in that case, there are plenty of beautiful women here your own age here that would happily go home with you tonight. Maybe you should flirt with them.” You turn back to your drink, taking a long sip through the skinny straw. “None of them are as pretty as you. You’re the most gorgeous woman here by far.” You let out a laugh of disbelief. “Bye Hugh Jackman. It was nice meeting you.” You slowly climb down the tall ball stool and grab your drink. Before you can walk off, Hugh calls your name, causing you to turn back towards him. “I’d love to take you out to dinner sometime.” He smiles and you’d be lying if you said the sight didn’t make your heartbeat stutter. “You know that Real Steel was my favorite movie when I was like eleven. Does that make my age more apparent to you or do you not care?” He furrows his brows, pretending to think for a moment. “Hm. I don’t think I care very much.” You laugh, dropping your head. “You’re unbelievable.” He smiles. “So is that a yes?” “No.” You smile and walk away. 

—

Your friend Kayleigh was ranting to you about a technical issue that happened during her performance earlier in the night and you were trying your best to pay attention. Sometime in between the chat you had with Hugh and now, he had removed the black suit jacket he had on. The sleeves of his white button up dress shirt were rolled up, showing off his large forearms, his biceps peaking out slightly. It was overly distracting. “Girl what the fuck are you staring at?” She moves her head around trying to match your staring gaze. “Y/n please don’t tell me you're staring at that old man right now.” You give her a sheepish look. “God, straight people are so fucking weird.” She sighs. “It’s not weird. He’s kinda hot.” You admit. “Whatever you say. Why don’t you just go talk to him? I’m almost positive he’d fuck you if you ask.” You look back over to where Hugh is talking to some older woman, just like you had suggested. “I kinda already turned him down. Well, not for sex. He asked me to dinner.” Her face scrunches up. “Ew. He’s like older than your parents.” You laugh. “Is it bad that I find that hot?” She nods. “Yes y/n. That’s like really fucking weird dude.” You ignore her. “Should I go try to get him to fuck me?” You ask, genuinely wanting her opinion. “If that’s really what you’re into these days, go for it. I’m highly disgusted by you right now though.” You stand up and grab the small clutch you had with you. “Eh. You’ll get over it. You’ll be okay on your own for a little bit?” She gives you a thumbs up and you make your way over to Hugh and the woman he was speaking to. 

“Hi, sorry to interrupt.” You apologize and turn to Hugh. “Could I talk to you alone for a moment?” He looks confused and completely caught off guard. “Uh, yea.” He turns to the woman. “It was nice to catch up with you.” She says something back that you don’t catch, too busy staring at the vein that is basically jumping out of Hugh’s arm. “You wanted to talk to me?” His words bring you out of your thirsting trance. “Follow me.” You grab his hand, dragging him through a door and into a hallway. “Where are we going?” He asks, taken aback by your lack of plan. “I’m not sure.” You say as you continue to drag him. “Y/n slow down, we can talk here. There’s no one out here.” He stops walking and it makes you tumble back, his grip on your hand stopping you from continuing forward. “We need somewhere private.” His confused expression only deepens. “I don’t know how much more private this can get darling. If it’s really that much of a secret, we can stop talking if someone comes by.” He offers and you huff. “I don’t actually wanna talk Hugh.” 

“You’re confusing me here darling.” You wiggle your hand out of his and raise it to your head in frustration. “I want you to fuck me.” You look at him and his eyes go wide. “I’m sorry…what?” “If you don’t want to, that's fine, we can go back.” Your confidence began to falter. “Wait, that’s not what I'm saying.” 

“So you want to fuck me?” He takes a moment to think before answering.

“Yes.” 

“Then help me find somewhere private.” The two of you make your way down the never ending hallway, checking every door you see. Hugh opens a door and closes it, making his way down the hallway. Seeing as it was the only door that opened so far, you went to check it yourself and saw that it was an empty bathroom. “Why’d you keep going, this is perfect.” You shout at him. “I’m not fucking you in a bathroom.” He looks at you like that was obvious. “Well it’s not like we have any other options. Come on.” You go inside and wait for him. Once he’s inside you motion to the door. “Lock it.” You tell him. “We’re really doing this?” He asks, confirming. “Unless you don’t want to.” He takes a pause before speaking again. “Get your pretty ass over here.” He growls. 

You walk over to him slowly. He pulls you close to him once you’re in arms reach and you look up at him through your lashes. “Too damn sexy for your own good.” He whispers before leaning down and locking his lips with yours. The feeling of his beard against your skin was addicting. The kiss was slow at first, both of you testing the waters with each other. It was you who begged to enter his mouth, tongue sliding against his lips. You didn’t want to come off so desperate but you needed more from him. His large hands slid down to your ass, giving it a tight squeeze that has you gasping. His tongue dives into your mouth, exploring every crevice. It’s messy but it’s hot. “Jump.” He commands and you listen. His hands grab the back side of your thighs and he walks you over to the counter, sitting you down inbetween two of the sinks. His lips are back on yours the moment your body touches the cold surface. 

“You sure you want to do this baby?” He asks. “Positive.” You breathe out. Hugh bends down, sitting on both of his knees. Grabbing your ankle, he gives kisses to the skin that your heel doesn’t cover. He moves upward, leaving long sensual kisses up your calf and thigh, raising the end of your dress as he goes. As simple as the gesture was, it felt erotic, never having a man take this kind of care with you before. His lips move higher, curving with your leg until he’s hovering above your pussy. “You’re wet already baby?” His voice is cocky and if it weren’t for the heat of his breath making your mind foggy, you would’ve called him out on it. He gives the wet spot on your panties a shy kiss. The act has you letting out a quiet moan, sounding louder from the echo of the bathroom. He slips a finger behind the cotton of your underwear and tugs at it while looking up at you. “Can I take these off?” He asks, finger still tugging the fabric dangerously close to where you need him the most. “Yes.” It’s breathy but it gets the job done because Hugh moves his head up, grabbing the top of the fabric with his teeth. He starts to tug your panties down, using one of his hands to help the other side. You lift your body slightly as Hugh pulls them down farther. When they’re all the way off, Hugh sits back with your panties hanging from the big toothy smile he's wearing. The sight was definitely going to be what you pictured the next time you touched yourself. 

“Oh fuck me..” He grabs your panties from his teeth and slides them into his back pocket. “Mhm. not yet, baby. Wanna eat your pretty pussy first.” He leans back in between your legs, lips ghosting over your heat. “So perfect.” He whispers as he kisses each pussy lip three times before finally kissing your clit. “Mhmm, please Hugh.” His tongue slides from your opening to your bud teasingly slow. You can feel his beard scratching the sensitive skin but it only adds to the pleasure. He swirls his tongue around your clit a few times before sucking it into his lips, the feeling causes you to jerk your hips. His hands, that were gently holding your ankles, moved up to hold your hips down. His mouth moves down to your opening, tongue plunging in and out a few times before moving back up to your clit. You hadn’t even noticed that one of his hands moved from your hip until you felt one of his fingers dip into you slowly. He curls the finger and moves it back and forth at an unexpectedly fast pace. Before you can adjust to it, he’s adding another finger and it all becomes too much. “Fuck..I’m gonna cum.” Your words are mixed with moans. He doesn't let up, his tongue and fingers speeding up and it has you cumming hard around his fingers, loud moans feel the air. He gives your pussy one last kiss before leaning back and removing his fingers. When you can fully see his face, it is a sight to see. His salt and pepper beard is covered in your slick, lips glossy. 

“Want you to see how good you taste darling.” He says while moving his two fingers to your lips. You open your mouth and stick out your tongue, taking his fingers in your mouth slowly. Hugh hisses as you suck around his fingers, tongue swirling around each one.  Once you're confident that they’re clean, you grab his wrist and take his fingers out of your mouth with a pop. “You still gonna fuck me old man or did you already cum in your pants?” You joke with him. He stands up, both knees popping in the process. Just as you're about to laugh and make fun of him some more, he grabs you off of the counter to stand you up. He turns you around and bends you over the counter. “You keep talking like you weren’t the one staring at me for an hour before asking me to fuck you.” He goes to undo his belt buckle and you shiver at the sound. You're looking back at him through the mirror. “Whatever.” You reach over to your clutch and open it, grabbing a condom. You reach back and hold it back to Hugh. “Here, put this on.” He grabs it with a questioning look. “Why were you carrying condoms?” You roll your eyes and rest your head in your hands, elbows propped up. “Can you mind your business and fuck me already. I’m getting bored.” You were lying right through your teeth. You were far from bored but you wanted to keep the whole ‘hard to get’ game going a little longer.

You watch him open the condom and see his arms move as he rolls it down his cock. As bad as you wished you could see him fully but it was kind of exciting- not knowing what you were about to get. “How do you want me baby?” He asks, looking at you through the mirror. You get a small glimpse of his dick as he slaps it across your ass. “Give me all you got daddy.” He smirks and shakes his head at the name. He lines up his member with your entrance and slides in slowly. Once he’s bottomed out, he doesn’t wait long before he’s slamming back into you. The stretch stings slightly and you hadn’t expected him to be so big. He slaps your ass hard and you yelp in response. You drop your head down at the pleasure. “Nuh uh. Look at me while I fuck you baby.” You raise your head to look at Hugh through the mirror again. “That’s it. Look at how pretty you look getting fucked by an old man.” You couldn’t help but listen to him. Hugh was fucking you dumb and you couldn’t think straight. His balls hitting your clit was what sent you over the edge for a second time. “Please don’t stop Hugh mhmmm fuck baby. I’m cumming, please don’t stop, baby.” Your moans match the rhythm of his hips, each thrust knocking the air out of you with its force. “Just like that sweet girl. Fuck not gonna last much longer.” Even after your high, the pleasure continues as Hugh chases his own. You push your hips back, meeting his thrust. The act makes Hugh moan. “Mhm, I'm gonna cum baby.” His hands squeeze your hips, thrusts getting sloppy as he cums. 

The two of you stay quiet as you both freshen up and try to make it less noticeable that you two left to have sex. You push yourself up onto the counter, sitting lazily as you watch Hugh toss his hair around. “Can you kiss me again?” You ask Hugh. He smiles and walks over to stand in between your legs. He grabs your cheeks and kisses you. “Mhm. You're a good kisser.” The compliment is sincere. You could kiss his lips for hours if he’d let you. He hums. “So, are you gonna let me take you out now?” You look in his eyes and smile. “Hugh we can’t. This was fun and it was good sex but that’s all it was.” “Why can’t we?” He’s quick with his words. “It’s just not practical Hugh. I think you're handsome and you seem like a sweet guy but I'm too young for you. The press would tear us apart quicker than we got together.” You explain. “Fuck the press. Let me take you out and get to know you at least.” You sigh. “I’m sorry Hugh. I can’t.” You offer him a small smile. “I’m not gonna stop trying. You’re too good to lose.” He kisses your cheek. “I should get back out there. I have a friend waiting for me.” He steps back, letting you hop down from the counter. “Bye Hugh Jackman.” You give him a small peck on the lips before leaving the bathroom. 

— 

A few weeks later, you were on set for the newest film you were working on. You’d just arrived an hour earlier and were sent to your trailer to get ready for the first scene. When you walked through the door, you were greeted with a bouquet of wildflowers and a note that read:

I can’t stop thinking about you. -H.J (xxx) xxx-xxxx

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[nightxcreature]

About Damn Time

A/N: I am certainly not a Sam girl, but I thought that I would try out something for him. Dean is my favorite, the LOML, but I'm trying to expand my horizons when writing, so heres a short one for Sammy. Written fast, edited poorly

Warnings: Drugs...sort of? Forced marriage, unrequited love on one part.

Pairings: Sam Winchester x reader, Dean Winchester x Friend!Reader, Becky Rosen x Sam Winchester

I was nursing a drink at a little strip club in Las Vegas, not exactly the place I wanted to be, but Dean wasn't leaving without hitting up a Vegas club first. He was chatting up the bartender while I sent yet another text to Sam, begging for him to at least tell me he was alive. He had left on a solo hunt a few days ago and we haven't been able to find him since. Dean keeps trying to reassure me that he's fine, but I know he's been messaging him just as much as I have. If not more.

"Hey, he just sent me a text. He's four blocks away and wants me to meet him with a suit." Dean's voice snaps me out of my own head, and I look toward him in confusion.

"Four blocks? I've been texting him all day, why didn't he just tell me that?" I question, mostly to myself.

Dean shrugs and leaves some cash on my table, "Maybe he's just been busy with another hunt. He's probably getting ready to do some fed interviews since he's got me bringing a suit."

I nod and grab my things, following behind him to the door. My phone dings as I get into the front seat, and I scramble to find it.

Sam: Who is this?

Me: What do you mean who is this? It's your girlfriend.

Sam: I don't have a girlfriend, I have a fiancée. Stop texting this number.

Me: Sam, this isn't funny. Dean and I are on our way.

"Dean, I think something's wrong. He's acting like he doesn't know who I am." I say as Dean flies down the street, "Where did he say he was?"

Dean shrugs, "Looks like a wedding chapel. He's probably just posing as a priest or crashing a wedding to get more info."

"But why would he pretend not to know me? He said he's engaged..." I reply placing a hand against my temple, "Something just feels wrong."

"Maybe he's just playing a prank on you. We'll figure it out if he isn't."

______________________________________________________________

As we step into the building the lights flicker causing Dean to send me a cautious look, pulling out our guns we slowly make our way through the hall toward the main chapel. The lights in the main room are bright and I have to put a hand in front of my eyes to adjust to the difference, finally coming to my senses I suck in a quick breath and stop in my tracks. Sam stands at the end of the aisle, a small smile on his face and a carnation boutonniere attached to his suit jacket. The world feels like it's moving in slow motion as he makes his way toward us, grabbing Deans gun and rushing to put it away.

"What are you doing?" He whispers angrily, dragging Dean to the front of the chapel. I slowly follow behind, unsure of exactly what's going on and where I should stand.

"What am I doing? What are you doing?" Dean asks, shoving Sam's hands off his arm, "Are we crashing a monster wedding or something?"

Sam reaches over and grabs another carnation, pining it to Dean's jacket and handing me a bouquet, "What? No! I'm in love."

Dean glances my way, a curious glint in his eye, "Oh really? Who could've guessed?"

I giggle and place a hand on Sam's arm, "Listen, maybe we should talk about this first."

He sends a funny look my way and stands up straighter, "Why? I know it's a little quick, but I'm in love. I know what I want and it's to get married. Today."

A look of shock passes my face, we hadn't even said 'I love you' yet. I mean, obviously I do love him, he's the sweetest guy I've ever known, but marriage? We don't exactly live a life that allows that most of the time.

"Maybe we should talk about this more in depth first."

"No. I know what I want." He says curtly, his frown immediately flipping upside down when the wedding march begins, and I hear the chapel doors swing open.

"What. The. Fuck." Dean lets out, grabbing my shoulders and spinning me toward the door.

Becky Rosen, the biggest Supernatural fan alive, is slowly making her way down the aisle to my boyfriend.

"What the fuck is right." I whisper, "Sam, what the hell is going on?"

"I love her." He answers simply.

"No, you don't." Dean says, yanking him back from the Elvis impersonator at the end of the aisle, "You've lost your mind."

"No, I haven't! We ran into each other, talked for a while, and I realized that I'm in love." Sam angrily responds as Dean shoves him into a pew.

He turns and points toward Becky and then at the pew in front of him, "You, sit. Now." Becky nods quickly and sits beside Sam, keeping a little space between them that Sam quickly closes pulling her closer, "Let her go, you don't love her. You love her!" Dean yells, pointing between Becky and me.

"I don't even know her!" Sam yells back, pulling Becky closer into his side as she giggles, "Becky is the love of my life."

I roll my eyes, "Are you sure she didn't poison you? This isn't the first time she's tried to get you into her bed."

Becky scoffs, "He loves me, didn't you hear him? I know that must be hard to accept, but it's true."

"Yeah, right." I nod, "Sam, you can't marry her. You don't even know her."

"I already did."

"What?" Dean and I question in unison.

Becky's smile grows even wider, "The ceremony is just for pictures, we signed the papers before you got here."

As she finishes her sentence, Elvis waltzes back up with the bill and Becky stands to follow him. Sam kisses her before she leaves, and I almost throw up.

"Dude, could you stop?" Dean suggests, "This could all be something written by Chuck. We need to figure that out before you go off with your new...wife." He sends me an apologetic look and then turns back to Sam,

"Chuck has nothing to do with this. I'm going back to Delaware with my wife, just be happy for me." Sam stands as Becky reenters the room and they head out the door for their...honeymoon.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I lay in the motel room alone while Dean is snooping at Becky's under the guise of bringing a gift. He suggested I stay back saying that he doesn't want to cause any problems for the happy couple, but I know that he really just wants to save me the anger and pain of seeing Sam with someone else. How does this even happen? I grab my laptop and click on my search engine, typing in anything that could give us insight into what's going on. Suddenly, Dean bursts through the door with Sam leaning against him and a smaller guy on their heels.

I Jump up from the bed and rush toward them, running my hands over Sam's face as he slowly blinks into consciousness, "What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Demons. He's fine, just tired. Becky was loading him up with some purple potion every day." Dean says as he grabs a beer from the fridge.

Sam reaches over and grabs my hand from where I placed it on the table beside him. He tugs me closer and leans against my chest, "Hey." He whispers quietly.

"Hi."

He sheepishly smiles as he looks up at my face, "Sorry that I forgot who you are."

I giggle and place a hand on his cheek, "You were drugged, I can't hold it against you. Just make sure it's me that you're meeting at the end of the aisle next time, ok?"

He chuckles and stretches up to kiss my lips, "Sounds good to me."

I stop short from touching his lips and smile, "Are you still married? I'm not comfortable being the cause for your infidelity."

He returns my smile and pulls my lips to his in a soft kiss before saying, "I signed the papers before we came up. You're no longer the other woman." He kisses me again and runs a hand through my hair, "I did realize something through all of this though."

"Yeah? Whats that?" I inquire, an eyebrow raised.

"Have I ever told you that I love you?" He asks quickly, a shy blush rising in his cheeks.

"No, but you can."

"I love you." He whispers as he places his lips on mine again, "I really, really do."

"I love you, too." I return, smiling against his lips.

A slow clap begins behind us as Dean steps out of the bathroom, "It's about damn time."

A/N: I said this would be short, but it is not. My bad. Love you guys!

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@lmhf1

[tarn-ati0n]

Please tell me about your extensive knowledge of german folklore, Forest Guy

Yipeeeeee :))))

Das Bahkauv

Objectively a funny little guy. This Cow/Mermaid/Bear/whatever hybrid lives in the Kanalisation under the city of Aachen. According to legends it has glowing eyes, a giant tail covered in scales and chains around his neck and legs, that rattled whenever it moved.

You could hear the sound of the rattling chains coming from fountains during the day, but it would only ever climb out of the sewers at night, looking for people who wander the streets in the middle of the night, usually drunks who just came out of the pub. If it spotted them, it jumped on top of their backs or on their shoes and let them carry it to their homes, it was impossible to get it off once it was on you. Because the Bahkauv was a creature from the devil, it got heavier when you prayed, but lighter if you cursed. (In case you ever happen to come across it, that’s probably good to know)

However, it never killed anyone! Once it’s prey arrived home, it would just jump off and look for the next person to latch onto. Also, it never bothered women or children. In conclusion: the Bahkauv did nothing wrong and was actually helping when you think about it. I rest my case your honor.

(Here’s a statue of it on top of a fountain)

Das Klageweib

After that delightfully silly little guy, let’s move on to a staple of German folklore: creepy woman that pull people to their doom!

The Klageweib is Said to be a gigantic woman with a pale face, black eye sockets and a fluttering white dress. On especially stormy nights she can be seen wandering through fields by moonshine. If she raises her arms over a house, one of it’s inhabitants is destined to die within a month.

But don’t worry! Like the Bahkauv, she also has a neat little trick: if you bury a dead dog within the walls of your house, she will stay away from it. Neat. I can’t defend her In front of a court though, even though being a prophet of doom is very #girlboss of her, forcing me to kill a dog is not.

No picture for this one, sorry.

Hans Jagenteufel

„It is commonly believed that if any person is guilty of a crime for which he deserves to lose his head, he will, if he escape punishment during his lifetime, be condemned after his death to wander about with his head under his arm.“

My boy Jagenteufel is like. The first example (and probably origin) of the „headless rider“ figure that’s been adapted Time and Time again. And honestly? He seems pretty chill. He rides around as a ghost without a head on his shoulders and will just leave you alone. He’s gonna warn you to not do the same mistakes he did though, but tbh he’s just looking out for you not to end up like him. He doesn't really need a life hack to keep him away, just... don't be a dick I guess. Jury of the court, he has done nothing wrong! … in… in the afterlife I mean. He did fuck up spectacularly when he was alive.

Btw, it is never said what exactly he did to deserve his execution, but if I remember it right it had something to do with him disrespecting poor people. Kind of a dick move, but he changed.

[bonefall]

My birthday was a couple days ago, and I got to see my bio dad for the first time in a while. He surprised me with the fact that I have a little half-sister, whom I've never met and who was adopted about two years back. So, I wondered if any situations in BB mimic this or have a theme of "secret siblings" or "secret family"? Sorry if this is a weird ask; this blog is honestly just such a cool little place and I love the way you approach the subject matter and take the flawed misogynistic foundation of the WC books and make them so much better (JUSTICE FOR BUMBLE!!!). I've also learned a lot about healthy and unhealthy relationships here and am really glad for your deep dives on Squilf and Bramble. Thanks, Bones!

Not weird at all! I really like exploring all the little nooks and crannies of complicated familial dynamics. I think one of the untapped strengths of WC (that the writers seem to be unaware of) is how their MASSIVE cast allows them to present all sorts of unique dynamics. So I like to pick up on it, since they don't.

For secret siblings...

I'm pretty heavily leaning towards Ambermoon being adopted by Wildfur, as a surrogacy. Something feels correct about it. Especially since Icecloud is getting retooled into a post-Battle of the True Eclipse birth, and a major supporting character in AVoS-era stories as a friend of Alderheart.

Thinking about it, I should zoom in and expand this. Maybe have Icecloud, somehow, acquire forbidden knowledge that would invalidate the Queen’s Rights and he (transman) struggles with if he's going to use it to expose his parents as an excuse to help Ambermoon.

(Especially since Ambermoon and Icecloud are basically nothing alike. Amber is independent, bold, and vain. Ice is jessie pinkman big-hearted, disorganized, and deceptively meek if you look past his "chill" demeanor)

But that's wip-- there's also Breezepelt and the Three, who are going to have an actual friendship. In particular I can't unsee Breeze and Lion having a deep one. I know I commit the Cardinal Sin of borderline himbo-ifying Lionblaze in BB, but I can't help it.

Hollyleaf ended up nabbing a bunch of his most violent roles to make her villainous descent smoother narratively, so BB!Lionblaze's story ends up being more focused on Ashfur's abuse, comic relief with cats in other Clans (something that the very serious Jay and Holly have a hard time providing), and the emotional fallout of the big reveal and Bramblestar's turn on them. Breezepelt slots neatly into that.

They were friends. Lionblaze's whole life came down around the reveal, everyone looking at him and his siblings differently, like they're suddenly something terrible. Why can't we find a silver lining, Breezepelt? Why can't we call ourselves brothers if the whole world is going to do it anyway? So much is changing, but THIS doesn't have to, we will take their weapon and turn it to armor, my ally, my friend, my brother.

(and when Breezepelt is lashing out at the three because of the Dark Forest's influence, Lionblaze is there, taking the blows and trying not to give in to the impulse to send him flying with a single paw)

There's also Harespring and Kestrelflight of WindClan and Owlclaw of ShadowClan. All of them are from a single litter between Whitewater and Mudclaw. She was going to raise the three of them alone as ShadowClan cats, but when the sire was smote, Whitewater felt they were cursed.

She was able to give the oldest two to their bio-uncle, Torear, but the weather was so bad that day and the runt was so sickly and small that it surely would have killed him. I don't think Owlclaw ever finds out why his mother always treated him with suspicion, but it did mess him up horribly.

Over in BB!DOTC, Thunder Storm is getting more half-siblings earlier. Clear Sky and Falling Feather had two daughters-- Pale Sky and Tiger Sky.

I want to explore the way that the various stages of Clear Sky's life acted on his kids. How any little curiosity Thunder Storm had about the life he might have had if he wasn't abandoned is crushed by seeing kittens who weren't. How Clear's favoritism of his oldest child set the trio against each other from the start. How this idea of "love" is toxic yet intoxicating.

It feels good to be the golden child. The power it gives you over his sycophants is satisfying. To know you, and you alone, have what someone else craves. Problem is, that's conditional, and it's cruel.

What Thunder Storm learns from his time with his biodad is that Clear Sky is not his father at all. He's taught him exactly what he DOESN'T want to be. There may be similarities-- in temperament, in physical prowess (though BB!Thunder is three-legged, he's still ripped), in taste and senses. But Thunder Storm's father is Shaded Flower.

(BB!Gray Wing died in the first book, rescuing Shaded Flower from being trampled by a horse. Xey're a patron of wisdom, Shaded Moss is taking the role of fatherhood to Thunder)

His sister is Rainswept Flower. His mom is Bright Storm. If there was a bond he could have had with Tiger Sky and Pale Sky, it dies simply and cruelly on the knife they used to cut each other out.

Pale might have wanted to mend it, she was the gentler one. But she dies in the First Battle along with her mother. Tiger Sky is too stubborn to accept any help, should Thunderstar offer it, and Thunderstar isn't in the business of begging for others to like him.

Naturally I'm lowkey obsessed with them lmao. I need to make a BB!DOTC overviewww

[scholarhect]

WHO IS PAUL.

they’re my best friend, they’re just some guy, they’re [amethyst steven universe voice] the two of us, mashed together, they’re the best and truest and kindest thing they (plural) can do in this moment, they’re a reformer or maybe a convert or maybe both or neither, they can drive a truck in theory but not in practice (just like me fr), they look gnc af, they have heterophobia in their eyes, they’re queering lyctorhood, they’re not camilla and they’re not palamedes and i miss them (plural) every day :(

[evil-starsh1ne]

yo brain who are we again

[23victoria]

“can you watch my boyfriend for a sec?” ❁

f1 grid x fem!reader

summary: TikTok trend with the grid!!

authors note: saw the carlos one and knew i had to write about it!! his reaction made me laugh!! i also just saw mclaren do it to oscar!! i hope the other teams do it to their drivers as well!! also first time writing for seb, jenson, and daniel, i had the time so i said why not?!any feedback is appreciated and please like, comment, and reblog!! hope you enjoy!!

f1 masterlist

Lewis

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to grab something from the car."

You head out, leaving Lewis alone in front of your phone's camera. He looks around, slightly bewildered.

"What? Y/N who’s on the phone? Uh, hey there. I guess I'm being watched. So... how's everyone doing? Good? Cool. Uh, any Mercedes fans here?" He starts talking about his day and how Roscoe is doing, trying to entertain the 'audience'. "Alright, she'll be back any minute now... right?"

Max

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to take out the trash."

Max raises an eyebrow as you walk away. He looks at the phone, unsure of what to say.

"Huh? Um, okay. This is weird. Hi, everyone….I guess…..Y/N what is this?! Who’s on the phone? So…what do we do now? Should I... talk about racing? Or... maybe I could just sit here…?" He awkwardly shuffles in his seat, checking his watch. "How long does it take to throw out the trash? Y/N come back! I don’t know what to say or do!"

Lando

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to get a drink from the kitchen."

Lando grins as you walk away, immediately knowing the TikTok trend. He leans in closer to the camera.

"Hey, TikTok! I was wondering when Y/N was going to do this trend on me! What have you guys been up to? Should I prank her back? Give me some ideas in the comments!" He starts to look around, trying to find something to do. "Should I play some games on my computer or maybe I'll hide and jump out when she gets back?"

Oscar

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to get my food."

Oscar blinks, looking at the phone and then at the door you just walked towards. He frowns slightly.

"Huh? What….okay? Uh, hi? I guess you guys are going to watch me eat my breakfast…Not sure what I'm supposed to do here. Should I be saying something interesting?" He scratches his head, and moves his food around, clearly uncomfortable. "So, did you guys have breakfast yet? I hope you did, breakfast is important….uhhh yea. Y/N!! Babe!! Come back!! I don’t know what to do!!"

Charles

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to take a call."

Charles watches you leave, then looks at the phone, confused but trying to be polite.

"Uh? Wait what? Hello, everyone. I guess your...on watch duty?" He laughs nervously. "This feels strange. Maybe I should sing a song? Or talk about Ferrari? Oh, I know, I'll play some music on my piano!" He moves towards the piano, but then hesitates. "Wait, how long is this call going to be? Y/N! Baby!!"

Carlos

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to make a smoothie."

Carlos looks at the camera, then at the direction you went, raising an eyebrow.

“What is this? Hello? Anyone there? Who were you talking to? Y/N?! Uhhhh hi… Wait, a smoothie? Bebe make me one too please! Okay, hi everyone. This is Carlos, just here... being watched?" He starts looking around, picking up random items on the table. "So, let me show you my favorite things on this table. This is a cool pen, and this is... a coaster. Fascinating, right?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "This is so weird. How long does making a smoothie take anyway?"

Sebastian

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to water the plants."

Sebastian gives you a puzzled look as you leave and then turns to the camera, smiling politely.

"What?! Y/N what is this? Hello? Hello? Anywhere there? I’m confused… Y/N!! Who were you talking too? Honey? … Um, hello everyone… I guess I'm under surveillance now." He chuckles. "So, while she's watering the plants, let's talk about... sustainability! Did you know you can make your own compost at home? It's really simple and great for your garden." He starts explaining the process, gesturing enthusiastically. "I hope she comes back soon because I might run out of eco-friendly tips! Oh wait!! I know! Let me show you my bees!!"

Jenson

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to grab the mail."

Jenson watches you leave with a bemused smile, then looks at the phone.

"Ummm what?! Babe? Y/N? Hello? Uhhh..hey there. So, I guess I need to be watched for a minute. You guys are in babysitting duty? Let’s see... what can I do to entertain you?" He glances around and spots his dogs. "Hey, meet my dogs! Come here babies!." He tries to get their attention but Bentley and Rouge ignore him, while Storm walks up to him, just to sit and stare at him. "Well, that didn’t go as planned. I guess they’re tired from playing this morning. Oh well, maybe next time! Isn’t that right Storm." he says putting down the camera.

Daniel

You: "Hey guys, can you watch my boyfriend for a sec? I need to fix something in the bathroom."

Daniel immediately grins and laughs as you walk away, sensing a prank.

“Huh? Babe? What? Oh wait! It’s that TikTok trend!! Alright, what’s up TikTok, what's going on? He starts making funny faces at the camera and then leans in closer. "I have no idea what to talk about. This is so stupid and awkward.” He says bursting out laughing. He keeps glancing towards the bathroom, barely containing his laughter. "Babe come back!!"

© 23victoria 2024 I all rights reserved. do not republish, steal repost, modify, translate, or claim my work as your own.

[roturo]

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ SHE'S BACK!

GUESS HE COULDN'T KEEP IT IN, SO HE HAD TO KEEP IT INSIDE! ₊˚⊹♡ dilf!gojo satoru x teacher!reader

tags: smut, unprotected sex, breeding kink, exhibitionism, getting caught, he fucks you while he's on the phone, overstimulation, dumbfication, fluff, gojo has an ex-wife, yuuji is gojo's son, age-gap.

A/N: well, this was surely and adventure and maybe self-indulgent title because guess what?, i'm back baby.

It was a nice morning, he felt clean. Like his life was finally steadying. Even after some stressful weeks trying to get rid of his now ex-wife, he won the trial and kept Yuuji. Poor little boy, just turning 5 years old and he’s already facing all this type of stress. But thankfully he will not be experiencing enduring his crazy mother behavior. Which basically was a gold digger, and a bitch– Not that he would ever say that outloud, maybe with other words? Bastard? Witch? Not that it really matters right now.

He could finally take a break now, just focusing on raising his little boy, and being an old boring 31 year old dad. Life doesn’t sound that bad.

“Daddy! Daddy!,” His son went running to his arms, almost stumbling by himself- clear happiness shown on his face. Quickly, Gojo opened his arms ready to lift the young kid. “Miss Y/N congratulated me on my homework! She was pretty amazed!”

Your name wasn’t unknown to him, Yuuji was very open when talking about his favorite teacher, even though he hasn’t seen you yet- from what he’s been told you’re the kid’s favorite, including Yuuji’s. “I had to talk about who’s my hero, and I chose you!” If this day wasn’t going great, it was now. Because his son's comment just made his whole week, life even.

“Oh look dad!” The little boy pointed towards your moving frame, each time getting clñoser towards them. “Daddy, this is Miss Y/N!” Yuuji kept presenting the both of you. He was really excited to present his two favorite persons to each other- but all Gojo could think of what’s how young and beautiful you looked. He expected someone older, maybe even an old lady with wrinkles and that loving grandma vibes, but what he saw made his heart beat in a way he never thought he would feel ever more.

“Daddy? Are you paying attention?” The little boy gained Gojo’s attention back, face now looking at him again. “I’m sorry kiddo, kinda just zoned out there. What did you just say?”

“Uhh, what was it? Oh! Did I tell you Miss Y/N told me you were a very handsome man?”

“Yuuji!” His gaze moved towards your blushed face, a hand covering part of your face. “I’m so sorry Mr.Gojo, I didn’t intend to say-”

Gojo cut you off before you could continue apologizing “It’s okay, I also think Ms.Y/N is a very beautiful woman.” 

Uh, well. So this is how kinda you found yourself in this situation right now.

You swear it wasn’t your intention! You really tried, you really did, but how could someone say no to Mr.Gojo? And mostly because he really showed his attraction towards you. Sending Yuuji with a rose for you every day, and the little boy was rooting for his dad, because dear god- he did not shut up about him, and how happy he would be with a new girlfriend and maybe one he could call ‘mommy’ and give him a sister. 

That made you blush. 

Not only because the little boy commented on it, and was agreeing- but because it was his dad’s idea.

“You’re so wet, s-shit.” Loud thrusts filled the room, he was fucking you raw on his sofa– waiting for Yuuji’s mom to bring him back, the little boy was eager to come back and ‘see Ms.Y/N and his daddy finally starting to fall in love’

Kids being kids. But, he was right- the both of you were falling in love with eachother.

Gojo throws back his head, immersed in the warmth radiating off your walls and he lets your moans take him to another world. In a haste decision, he slips your dress over your head before tossing it. He mouths at your tits, plump and stiff between his lips, and he hurdles a deeper round of thrusts inside you. 

When you get a little too loud, his hand comes over to clamp your mouth, wolf like eyes staring back at you, “Shut it. You don’t deserve to speak.”

His thin white tee that stays a barrier between you and him does not hide the rippling body underneath that seemed to be sculpted by gods. He presses into you, grunting, using you like his personal sex doll and you embrace it, thrive from it, come to it. Your hips contract, slewing in perfect circles, before having your legs fall gradually lifeless as you arousal drip down your thighs.

“Ffffucckkk- oh baby, would you like that? Be full of me and my baby? Make me a daddy again?”

“yesyesyesyes, make me yours Mr.Gojo-” 

He pays your climax no mind,a smirk clearly showing on his face while he fucks you on his sofa- You could muffle your screams of pleasure easier here. Turning your head back to face him, you notice now he’s shirtless–taut and shiny from sweat like a large set of Hawaiian rolls–before seeing how quick he is to fit back inside you.

“Good girl.” His husky voice resonates and pushes you back into the sheets. “Good girls get rewards, don’t they?” Your poor fucked up mind couldn’t think clearly now. The way your abused and overstimulated pussy was still taking his rock hard cock gratefully inside you was making every feel giddy. A sudden noise bringing back a little part of your senses, Gojo clearly grunting grabbed his what you suppose phone, and answered. Not bothering to stop his thrusts.

“Yeah?,” His voice sounded almost like a whisper because of how breathy it was. “Gojo? I’m almost at your house- Yuuji wanted some ice-cream and bought some for you and… your new girlfriend?” His chuckle interrupted his ex-wife’s conversation, accompanied with a whimper at the feeling of you clenching on him- overstimulation clearly bringing you back to climax soon again.

A slap was heard from his part of the line, an unbelievable laugh coming from his ex-wife line, clearly noticing what was going on and then she finally heard you moan. You couldn’t keep it in anymore, and you were too fucked out to feel embarrased about it right now.

“Finish before I leave Yuuji- Enjoy yourself.” Gojo was so lost in pleasure that he didn’t even realize she hung up before he even processed what happened.

His grunts and sounds of skins slapping are all you hear as he pounds you back into the sofa. It feels like heaven beneath his weight. You were feeling flushed to the touch, but making contact with his skin was like an inferno. He was the embodiment of heat and as suffocating as that could’ve been, it melts you like it’s how it always should’ve been.

His pace eventually falters, followed by a hushed “fuck,” and he empties out into your used hole. The moment he pulled out, a knock was heard. 

“Shit. Can you walk?”

PART 2

[icarusredwings]

I hope you guys realize how much of an EGO Wade is going to get when people realize that he bagged THE WOLVERINE

One of the most notoriously difficult heroes to work with, and now he's sleeping in his hed curled up little kitty cat in HIS lap.

The guy who is so universally discussed as a "do not hire" couldn't get on a team and dissed non-stop yet. Guess where he is now? On top.

You're lucky if it doesn't send him into mania when people start actually realizing that out of everyone, it was him who put a ring on it.

"Told me I was awful, and that shit did not phase me, Tell me how I suck again, my memories hazy. 'You're my favorite hero.' Like yeah kid, I better be!"

And honestly? Same.

[irisinluv]

Isekaied as the Yandere Villain!? Pt 2

Part one

It was almost 2 minutes before I realized I was still dragging the crown prince behind me. I quickly dropped his hand and looked at him, not able to hide the embarrassment on my face. Listen- I’m committed to the bit. I WILL be the crazy jealous fiancé. But… I’m still human ok. I just dragged a full grown man down several halls and a flight of stairs while I spaced out thinking about how I’m gonna buy my cat premium wet food once I get back home to her.

It’s fine, I’m not flustered at spacing out about my cat, my characters just flustered because she’s been holding the hand of the man she’s obsessed with, that’s all!

“Well…. Did you still want to dine and take that walk?”

I expected him to scold me for my mistreatment of Cressida, grow irritated from me dragging him along like this. Instead, he chuckles and threads his arm in mine, and begins escorting me down the hall.

“Absolutely, have you dined outside by the roses yet? There’s this lovely pavilion that I am eager to hear your thoughts on.”

And that’s how I found myself under an impressive array of roses, all trained up and around a cozy dining area, creating a canopy of green and pink over an intimate tea table. The food was equally impressive, I had to keep reminding myself that the other me is used to this lavish lifestyle, to not gawk at the fancy tiny sandwiches and deserts.

“Well? Is everything to your liking? ”

I’m going off script here, how am I supposed to know how the villainess would react to a romantic scene like this?? If my “evil crazy” side isn’t supposed to be directed at him, and she’s usually kinda distant and unsure around him…. That means I should probably respond pretty curtly, polite, yet not really engaging. But…. I’ve already messed that up…. I guess I can be more genuine when it’s the two of us like this. He can think that this version of me is the facade, that I’m pretending to be pleasant, and then will start to see what a jerk “I” truly am when Cressida’s around. Besides…. I almost feel bad for the villainess. She really just seems like she was shy. Who knows- maybe, if given the opportunity, she really would have opened up more. It’s clear she loved the prince, and just didn’t know how to show it. So, with that thought, I made up my mind.

“It’s breathtaking! Roses are my favorite flower, and I’ve never seen so many kinds in bloom at once…. Plus the food and company leave little to be desired.”

There you go- slip in some subtle flirting! I’m not quite sure what time period this is supposed to be, but I get the impression flirting as bit more high class here, and I think I can have some fun with that.

“I’m glad, to be honest I was a bit flustered asking you to dine with me… you caught me quite off guard today, but in a good way.” He reaches his hand across the table and places it on my own, “I’d like to do this more often, you and I. I feel like the confines of our current arrangement have left us practically strangers, despite being engaged for several months already. I’m enjoying just being companionable with you, even if it’s just existing comfortably in the same room.”

Ohhhh, I know I’m the villain in this story but I can’t help but root for him- what a sweetheart! It’s so obvious he’s been lonely, I can’t wait for him and Cressida to fall in love and have a couple of kids that they’ll spoil rotten. And in the meantime…. Maybe I do have a bit of evil in me, because I’m going to selfishly enjoy this handsome man treating me to lunches under roses and reading in cozy libraries while I can.

“I know exactly how you feel your highness. Now, you mentioned a walk?”

We spent the afternoon laughing and chatting, and it felt nice to chat without worrying too much about my role. He asked me about that book I picked out earlier, and listened attentively as I caught him up with where I’m at in the plot. In turn, I asked about what papers he’s been signing, documents he’s been drafting, etc.

The only thing I had to do was send glares to any young ladies we passed, settling my hand on his arm possessively, and I saw their eyes widen and faces disappear behind fans as they whisper to one another. I can picture this illustrated in a manhwa- the nasty princess sinking her claws into the gullible prince… hopefully all these ladies will start gossiping and we can really cement this evil persona of mine now that Cressida’s here.

When we returned to our separate apartments, I explored my rooms a bit until servants came to get me ready for dinner, and I slipped back into the frigid bitch persona. The servant girls dressed me in a slightly stuffy gown, but I had to admit, I looked gorgeous. I sat stiff and straight as they did my hair, forcing myself to be the very picture of cold indifference. I then dismissively thanked them for their help, then sat there awkwardly as they stared at me like I was crazy.

Ohhhh shit…. The original story hadn’t prepared me for this. My character was a villain, yes, but a side character for the most part! How was she supposed to act towards her servants? I went over what I knew- the novel showed the villainess alone quite often, usually obsessing over Eric and plotting/stalking. It showed her with Eric, and how distant and awkward their relationship was when together. And then of course the numerous scenes with Cressida where the Villainess did all sorts of heinous things to the sweet girl. But… it never depicted her with servants, or even any friends or other nobles. Just… Eric and Cressida. Was other me not actually a bitch all the time? Am I being unnecessarily rude right now? Oh god I’m such an idiot.

The story is told through Cressida’s point of view- of course there’s more depth to my own character than I initially thought! The Villianess must be a misunderstood introvert! Unsure of how to act around her crush, she’s fiercely insecure and jealous of this new girl who doesn’t struggle the same way she does. When she notices the prince slipping from her grasp, she acts out against Cressida because she can’t bear to lose Eric!

As someone’s who’s worked minimum wage jobs and struggled with social anxiety most of my life, I try to be nice to the people just working to survive, but here I am acting like these poor women are the dirt beneath my shoe…. Ok. Um. Well they’re still standing there in shock, I can fix this….

“You really did a lovely job… my hair has never looked so gorgeous, you’re truly talented! And I think the prince will be very pleased with this choice of ribbon!”

There- I was nicer, and I brought it back to Eric, so I’m still the lovesick fiancé whose entire world is waiting for her in the dining room. I frowned as the servants scuttled out of the room with hurried excuses, all of them looking like they were about to faint. Damn it… I can’t believe I misread the relationship between us. I probably just ruined their night by being uncharacteristically rude. I’ve gotta learn their names next time…. Maybe ask them to help me eat some fancy pastries as an apology…?

I didn’t know it, but while I was lamenting how wrong I was about the Villainess’ character, the servants were all gossiping to the others about what had just transpired.

“You’re telling me she said THANK YOU!?”

“Yes!!! And then you should have seen how nervous she got! She just rambled, blurting out such a sweet compliment, and she even tied it back to the prince!”

“I had no idea how precious she was… I can’t believe I never realized she’s just shy! In a new place, all alone aside from her new fiancé…. Who I gather she’s got a bit of a crush on! Poor dear.”

“Ohh our sweet girl, I’m sure it must be hard bonding with the prince, when all you do is sit yards apart and hardly speak …”

“Well I may have some news about that… and it’s no wonder she was a bit flustered today, because I saw the two of them in the gardens today! They were both nothing but smiles- absolutely smitten with one another!”

“Such a lovely girl, and we never knew it all this time!”

Apparently, I had it backwards. The real villainess truly was a 2D, basic character. She was insecure and possessive over the prince, bullying Cressida half to remind her who Eric belonged to, half for the fun of it. But she didn’t let on to anyone about the true depth of her love for him. She didn’t gossip to her handmaid, didn’t ask the servants which dress he would like better. Simply acted as if they did not exist, hardly saying a word to them.

While I thought my blunt “thank you” was colder than they were used to, and then tried to smooth things over…. It was more words than they’d heard from me in the whole time I’d lived in the palace. They lapped it up and declared me their own shy little dove after that.

When I arrived to dinner, I realized why daily dinners weren’t exactly a bonding activity for the villainess and Eric. The table was massive, and only held two chairs, one at either end. It felt so…. Cold?

Eric had beat me there, and quickly stood up from his seat, waiting until I sat and a servant pushed in my chair to retake his own seat. He smiled at me and said,

“Good evening, princess.”

He had to project his voice slightly. It wasn’t like he was shouting or being loud, it was just the manner of speaking you use when talking to an elderly relative, clearer, and enunciating better so they could hear you.

I replied back, projecting my voice similarly, and found the conversation was, in fact, more awkward than it had been earlier. We ate our food mostly in silence, occasionally one of us would say something and the other would stop moving their utensils on their plate, listening closer as they ask,

“What’s that?”

By the time dinner was over and we each went to bed, I felt drained. I could have just been louder I suppose- but it’s so hard to keep up a conversation like that. I know we get along- we had chatted all afternoon after all. But some part of me realized it’s probably good to keep a bit of distance between us, even if I’ve rewritten things to be a bit chummier between the two of us. Cressida needs to swoop in and steal him from me… and my job is still to leave that room for her to do so.

It’s hard trying to be someone else, yet also making sure you lead the plot in the right direction- it’s exhausting! I feel like both director and actress!

It’s with this in mind that I launch myself into the softest bed I’d ever felt, and passed out. My first day as princess consort, the Yandere fiancé, complete.

While I was getting acquainted with my feather bed, Eric was speaking with the head waitstaff.

“Yes, tomorrow, would you mind adjusting the seating situation? I’d like for the princess consort and I to be closer together from now on. Yes, and ask my assistant to arrange my schedules like so, I’ve detailed it here. Thank you.”

At the same time, Cressida was recounting her run in with the prince and I to her handmaiden as she finishing unpacking and settling into her family’s guest apartments. Which, unbeknownst to me… was right across the hall.

Aaaa! You survived your first day! And look at you- doing suuuuch a good job staying true to character. Nothing could go wrong… right?

Tag list for the series;

@bitternsweet @tonightwrites @confused-they @lanxianschoenheit @poptrim @siriuslyobsessedwithfiction @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @anonymousdisco @forbidden-sunlight

Tag list closed! Stay tuned for part 3!

[pellucid-constellations]

Trial and Error

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Based on the request: "Azriel with single mom reader? I feel like being a single mom in ACOTAR would be tricky as hell… reader comes from autumn court and flees to night court because she got pregnant out of marriage? 😯 the shame"

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: A little angst

a/n: Okay this has taken over my brain. I hope you enjoy it!! You can read the previous little part here and part three here

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“And what would happen then?” 

“I suppose then we would have to turn into giants, wouldn’t we?” 

“Giants. Really?” Melanie deadpanned as if she hadn’t just unraveled the most incoherent line of questioning you’d ever heard. Her new favorite game was “what if,” and you were apparently awful at it. 

“Well—” you began, pretending to think as you leaned against the counter and tapped your chin. “I guess we could just learn how to fly instead. That way we could go collect the, um… bunnies from the tops of the clouds.” 

“It’s cats, mommy, not bunnies. Why would a bunny be on a cloud?” 

“You are so right.” 

You pushed off the counter and continued restocking the shelves of the small apothecary that had employed you for the past few years. You had started out in Velaris working at a few small bars, but that hadn’t lasted long when they discovered you were pregnant. You had earned enough money to get a small apartment at that point, and you just so happened to find one above an apothecary owned by a rather wicked old woman. 

Lucky for you, she was a wicked old woman who no longer wanted to run her apothecary or deal with the space above it. So, you got a job and a place to live without many questions asked—a two-for-one miracle. 

“Maybe we could ask Nyx to take us up to the clouds,” Melanie pondered as she fiddled with a bundle of cloves by the register. 

“Who’s Nyx, sweetie?” you mindlessly asked. 

“A boy in my class. He has wings. He told me he can’t fly very high yet, but soon he’ll be able to.” 

You inhaled sharply through your nose. 

There were probably several boys in her class who had wings and were unrelated to the Illyrian man occupying your thoughts, right? 

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know, Melanie. Maybe Nyx could take you, but I might be too big for him to bring me up to the clouds.” 

“Oh, good idea, mommy! Nyx’s daddy can fly too and he can bring you. Or he has two uncles that could.” Your daughter stuck two fingers in the air with pride. “I wish I had wings. Mommy, did my daddy have wings?” 

You shook your head and abandoned the box at your feet to brush your daughter’s hair back instead. Going to school had opened doors to many questions you had been dreading, and Melanie’s questions about her dad had been coming in waves. 

“Your daddy didn’t have wings,” you began, looping a finger around her red curls. “But he did have hair just like yours.” 

Melanie tilted her head to the side. “Did you love my daddy? Nyx drew a picture at school of his mommy and daddy and said they love each other very much. Like as much as you love me.” 

You fought back a sigh. Nyx was causing you a plethora of issues and you hadn’t even met the kid. “Sometimes families look different,” you explained, running your hands down to brush off the dust on Melanie’s clothes that she’d surely obtained from playing in the apothecary. “I didn’t love your daddy, but that’s just because I had so much love saved up for you.” 

“Hmm…I hope you can have someone to love like how Nyx’s mommy has his daddy,” Melanie said after a small pause. And then she swung off the counter and started trekking up the stairs to the apartment as if she hadn’t just aged ten years with her statement. 

You blinked at the space she left, baffled by your five-year-old’s abruptness. She had only been at school for a week and was making revelations about your life that even you struggled to come to terms with. You let out a small sound of disbelief and made to follow your daughter up the stairs when the bell above the front door chimed. 

“Sorry, we’re closed for the—”

A boot heel clicking silenced your call.

His shadows came in before him, dark swirls instantly sweeping along the walls and wrapping up around the front counter. They didn’t touch you, but there was a hesitance about them that suggested they wanted to. You tore your gaze from their behavior to meet the eyes of the Illyrian from the school—the one you hadn’t seen since and definitely not because you were avoiding all situations where he could spot you. 

“Hello,” Azriel greeted with a calmness that was not reciprocated. “Are you closed? I can come back another time.” 

Every thought tumbled out of your brain. You had forgotten—almost—how intimidating he was. Not just in sheer size, but in the way he held himself, in the sharp planes of his face that smoothed into softness in the exact places they should. 

His wings pressed in towards his back as he took another step forward. The floor groaned beneath his weight. 

“Oh, um—” you uttered along with the straining floor. “We are—technically. But I can help you find something. Or place an order for you. No big deal.” 

“I wouldn’t want to keep you if you’re closed,” Azriel stressed. 

“No, no, it’s okay,” you nervously laughed. Act more normal. Act like there’s nothing… abnormal about you. “Anything for someone from Melanie’s school. What are you looking for?” 

Azriel hummed, his eyes lightning. “Ah, so you do remember me. I was wondering.” 

Was he looking at you strangely? Azriel kept trailing his gaze around the room and letting it land on your face, evaluating you… profiling you? 

You were being ridiculous. 

“Of course I do. You gave me great intel on the teacher. I don’t come until the bell rings now.” You rocked back on your heels and shifted your fidgeting hands behind your back. “Was there something specific I could help you with?” 

Azriel ignored your question for the second time. “Is that why I haven’t seen you? You come later?” 

Was he looking for you? 

A strange combination of excitement and trepidation made your stomach drop. 

Another nervous laugh. Your palms were sweating. “I guess so. There’s a lot to be done here so I usually wait until the last minute to close up shop and pick her up. That’s why your tip was so helpful.” 

Azriel narrowed his eyes in a way that echoed concern, but you refused to read into it. You balanced up onto your toes and fell back onto the soles of your feet. 

You could tell he wanted to say more about something—to ask more questions unrelated to the apothecary. But he stopped himself and the restraint was clear in the tenseness of his shoulders. 

“I get headaches,” Azriel shared. “Awful ones. I’ve tried healing magic and a few medicinal remedies, but I was hoping to find something herbal. Could you help me with that?” 

You breathed a sigh of relief and began rifling through a cabinet to your left. “I may have just the thing. I had terrible migraines when I was pregnant and it took me six tries to get this recipe perfect, but I think it would do the trick for you. I almost hate to share it because I was the one that had to suffer through all the bad batches, but I guess that’s kind of my job.” 

You pulled back from the cabinet with a small bottle in hand, a tiny rendition of your handwriting scrawled along the side. You rolled it in your hands for a moment until you saw the shimmering nature of the liquid inside, and then you held it out over the counter and offered Azriel a smile. He replicated it, but it was smaller and looked forced. 

“You didn’t have anyone else to try it out on?” he asked. 

The question twisted something deep within your chest, but you only grinned and ignored the tightness of your jaw. “Who better than the one with the migraines herself?” 

Azriel breathed a laugh through his nose, his eyes not leaving yours. “I suppose that’s true.” 

The flecks in his eyes had you paralyzed, unable to move as his gaze held yours. You were breathless, fist tightening around the small tonic still held out in front of you as Azriel reached forward and grabbed it. His skin brushed yours. You shivered. 

Azriel’s lips parted to speak. “Where are you—”

A loud thump from upstairs cut him off. 

Azriel started, his chin clipping up and his body tensing. He quickly looked back down to you with a panicked question in his eyes. 

You fought for the words to say. If you revealed it was only Melanie, he would know where you lived—another piece of information you liked to keep close. But if you didn’t tell him, that could lead to something worse. He looked about ready to bolt up the stairs and battle your five-year-old. 

The decision was made for you when Melanie came bounding down the steps with a bowl in one hand and a large wooden spoon in the other. 

“Mommy,” she began with a lax posture that did not match the room. “Can I—Oh, hi, Mr. Azriel. What’re you doing at my house?” 

Melanie’s interpretation of his name included an extra syllable, and she was still working on pronouncing Zs, but the Illyrian ignored that. “Your house?” he asked. His attention was fully on Melanie, but he sent you a raised brow. 

“Um, yes. We live above the apothecary. Melanie sometimes forgets that it’s a business downstairs and not just a private playground,” you explained, rubbing your forearm in discomfort. Azriel tracked the movement. 

“Ah, well, it does seem rather fun down here. I can see the confusion.” 

Melanie perked up, waving the spoon in front of your face. “See, mommy? There’s lots to play with.” 

One of the tightly bound coils in your chest loosened as you shot Azriel a look. “Great. You’re encouraging her.” 

“I’ve been an uncle for a few years,” Azriel smiled, rolling the headache tonic between his hands. “I’ve gotten quite good at encouraging terrible things.” 

You laughed with a huff and placed a hand on Melanie’s head, bending down to meet her gaze. “Were you going to ask me for dinner? I’ll be up in just a few minutes. I was just putting a few things away.” 

“I know, mommy,” she nodded. Then, after a quick look at Azriel from the corner of her eye, she whispered, “Is Mr. Azriel having dinner with us? Nyx has been asking about when we have dinner and said to keep the question a secret, but maybe that’s why he’s here.” 

A few feelings barraged you at once. Confusion over your daughter's words; fear that the night court’s inner circle seemed to be asking questions about you; regret that you had given into Melanie’s pleas to go to school so readily. 

But Nyx was just a child—perhaps he asked everyone when they had dinner and Melanie was just connecting dots that weren’t there. 

But maybe that wasn’t the case. 

Maybe Azriel came to the apothecary specifically because you worked there and he was trying to gather intel for the Autumn Court. It had to be common knowledge that the daughter of one of Beron’s men had run away. But Night and Autumn weren’t on the best terms. That’s why you chose Velaris to—

You couldn’t do this right now. 

Not in front of Melanie and certainly not in front of Azriel. 

You pressed your lips into a firm line and whispered back, “No, he came to buy something from mommy’s shop. It’s just us for dinner, like always.” 

A sliver of disappointment fractured Melanie’s gaze. She hooked her chin over her shoulder and sent Azriel a small smile before disappearing into the apartment once more. You wiped your palms on the front of your pants as you stood, taking a breath to calm your raging anxiety. 

“Sorry, she…” 

“It’s alright,” Azriel dismissed. You looked at him for the first time in a few moments, his expression pinched and difficult to read. “I’m around Nyx a lot. You don’t have to apologize.” 

A beat of silence. 

The room was cloaked in unrealized tension. You weren’t sure if it was fueled by suspicion or something else. For you, it was, but the wistful way Azriel continued to linger on your figure was read as something else. Something older, more entrenched.

“It’s just two coppers.” You broke the silence, gesturing to the tonic still held between Azriel’s fingers—his scarred fingers, you then realized. You looked back up to his face.

“Only two? After all it took for you to make it?” 

You felt your mouth twist at the corner despite yourself. “I don’t know if you’ve seen this place, but it’s not exactly up to par with the rest of the apothecaries. I’m surprised you found it, to be honest. My customers are typically ancient fae with boils and warts.” 

“Sorry to disappoint,” Azriel teased. He searched through his pocket and placed a small sum of money on the counter between you. “Five coppers—for interrupting dinner.” 

“I hadn’t even—” 

“Goodbye, y/n.” 

You watched him go, not noticing the shadow that lingered in the corner. 

part three

[httpsserene]

Jealous sex with Charles 🤩

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 - 𝐜𝐥. 𝟏𝟔

summary: there’s no reason for charles to be jealous of men who are stupid enough to think they have a chance with you. content warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. jealous sex. tennis. monte carlo masters winner stefanos tsitsipas used as a plot device. porn with a side of plot. mildly possesive!charles leclerc. jealousy. reader’s kindness is misunderstood for flirting. no infidelity. vaginal sex. unprotected sex(don’t do that!). fingering. missionary & cowgirl. rough(ish?) sex. the clothes stay on. uhm, reader gets railed stupid, lowkey. cumplay (i’m so sorry). pairing: charles leclerc x fem!bpoc!reader word count: 2.8k words.

from serene: surprised i finished this when i said i would. to make a long story short, i’m breaking up with my boyfriend 🤪✌🏽ANYWAYS, i listened to the beauty behind the madness and my dear melancholy albums by the weekend to lock in the smexxy vibes. idk if it worked, it took me two days to write less than 3k words 🙂 y’all lmk if you think the wait was worth it, and enjoy reading lovelies x

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The car ride home was quiet. You figured it was post-tennis exhaustion keeping your boyfriend quiet; the entire match was viewed with the Monte Carlo sun radiating down on the stands. Secondarily, the silence could’ve been induced by a little social exhaustion even though Charles thrives in crowds—the two of you spent a couple of hours before the match chatting to anyone who approached him, which felt like every person at the event had to have his attention for a brief moment. Then after the match, the two of you spent another hour speaking with the Master’s Winner, Stefanos, and the Prince, before you were able to take your exit.

So, you attributed his low energy to being sun-tired and talked-out. In retrospect, you should’ve known that it was more than fatigue from how Charles failed to put his hand on your thigh as he drove, and how he sat through slow-crawling traffic without ever moving to turn on music or talk. Your weariness prevented you from prodding further when the Monegasque responded with a nearly inaudible hum when asked if he was tired—the lack of presence in his answer felt like confirmation.

Yet, you realize it wasn’t an answer at all when you entered your home.

Your comments and questions about the match and dinner plans were met with one-word answers and off-timed hums of indifference in response. It’s not until the two of you are in your bedroom getting unready that Charles speaks more than a single word.

“Stefanos was nice, wasn’t he?” 

You pause in your action of taking off an earring, a puzzled tilt to your brow at the odd tone his words took, eyes examining him in the reflection of your vanity’s mirror. He stares down at his forearm as he unclasps his watch, his expression unreadable from his side profile. 

“Yes…he was,” you answer slowly, your confusion growing as you see Charles’ jaw clench, “I didn’t imagine him to be so, normal, I guess? After winning the Monte Carlo Masters, of all things. And, he’s done it three times! I mean, that’s incredible, no? For him to be so friendly and relaxed after was nice, I think.”

You rambled endlessly, the feeling that you’ve talked yourself into a corner flaring at the base of your skull. Charles turned to face you fully, shrugging his suit jacket off and calmly placing it on top of the dresser, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt before he leaned to rest against the furniture as well.

“Ah,” the hair on the nape of your neck rises at the sound, you continue to remove your necklaces with hesitant fingers, “Did he charm you into being your favorite tennis player today, mon amour?”

A humorous scoff escapes your lips, “You know I’m not a fan of tennis. But, if there happens to be a match playing within my view, and he’s playing, I suppose I would want him to win. I wouldn’t say I was ‘charmed,’ I just think he’s a nice man.”

“I think you were too nice to him.”

You slowly place your diamond-studded, golden tennis chain away before your eyes flicker back to meet Charles’ in the reflection of the mirror. You raise a brow, unsure how to respond to his statement. Intelligently, you’ve deduced that he’s jealous, which is odd—considering he’s Charles Leclerc, the prettiest, sweetest, and kindest man on the face of the Earth, in your humble opinion. Stefanos doesn’t hold a candle compared to your boyfriend. Your fingers struggle to undo the clasp of your final necklace; the gold, diamond-paved, Cartier necklace with Charles’ name carved on the back—it was expensive enough that he refused to tell you the price when he gifted it, only saying that “the cost was nothing compared to the love he has for you,” the smooth-talker.

“Arrête,” he speaks firmly, pushing off the dresser and making his way towards you, his dress shoes clicking on the floor sending your heartbeat racing. He stops mere centimeters behind you, the heat of his body radiating against your back.

“Leave it on,” he murmurs, darkened eyes running over your form in the mirror indulgently. 

You do as he says, arms shakily lowering to rest at your sides, fingers tugging at the hem of your sundress as your heart skips and body flushes with heat. The Monegasque reaches around you to center the necklace on your clavicle, the sensation of his fingertips barely ghosting across your brown skin has your mouth parting with an inaudible gasp.

“If only he knew that you wear my name locked around your neck,” the brunette pondered aloud, “Maybe then he would remember that your pretty eyes, sweet giggles, and flirty words are for me—since you seemed to forget.”

“I was not f-flirting with him!” You stutter over the word as if it were an insult.

“You were not,” Charles sounds like he agrees, “But, you know very well that people mistake your kindness as more than that. It’s happened before, no?”

It has happened before. More than you can count. The number of men who mistake politeness and your overall niceness for interest is frightening; you don’t want anybody but Charles.

“What was I supposed to say to Stefanos? Nothing? Should I have just ignored him? And stood at your side quietly like I was just there for decoration?” Your tone peaks with annoyance, heated at the idea of being reduced to an accessory.

“No,” his voice cuts through your train of thought, “You should’ve agreed with me when I mentioned we needed to leave after he said ‘the only thing he’s missing to celebrate is a beautiful woman’ as he stared directly at you—instead of forcing me to stay for another twenty minutes to talk.”

Your mouth drops open disbelievingly, a scoff following a few moments later when you slowly realize that Stefanos wasn’t interested in being set up with one of your friends as he asked. You should’ve known when he asked if you had a twin sister he could meet.

“Okay, in hindsight, I can see that he was flirting,” you clarify, “But, I definitely was not. You know in that entire conversation, I was just being polite—and I made you stay for longer because the Prince wanted to talk to you. Not because I was entertaining a man who doesn’t respect my relationship with you!”

“You were being polite when he kissed your hand?”

“Yes! I thought that was just him laying it on thick?”

“He’s not royalty,” Charles snorts, “The only person allowed to put their lips on you is me.”

“You keep talking about who’s ‘allowed’ to do anything to me and you’ll very quickly find out that I’m ‘allowed’ to reconsider this relationship if you continue speaking about me as if you own me.”

“I don’t own you,” Charles pauses, and a smile spreads across his lips, dimples deepening in his cheeks, nearly forcing you to forget your previous statement as you admire them in the vanity mirror, “But—you own me.”

You turn around quickly at the words, breath stuttering at the lack of space between you two. Tilting your head upwards, you examine your boyfriend’s face with narrowed eyes and cheeks burning so hot the red flush is apparent. His smile has softened to a smirk, his eyebrows laced with a smug undertone, his pupils blown wide enough for you to have to focus to see the green ring around them. You languidly raise a hand to trace a finger across the edge of his jawline, then cupping your hand along the side of his face, gently resting your thumb in the indent of his dimple. Your chest tightens when Charles leans into your palm, slowly shifting to press a kiss on your wrist before nudging you back to holding his face.

Sighing gently, you shake your head, “What do you want from me?”

“Je veux que tu me laisses baiser ma jalousie sur toi, s'il te plaît.”

“S-say it slower please,” you request meekly, “I think I heard you wrong.”

“I want you to let me fuck my jealousy out,” Charles emphasizes each word slowly, his tone becoming teasing as he sees you fluster with each added syllable, “Ple–”

Your lips meet his desperately, your other hand flying upwards to grasp at his shoulder when you feel his laughter through the kiss. You’re sure his amusement is multiplied as you try to dominate the kiss, even as you rise on the tips of your toes and arch your body towards his. Needily, you whine into his mouth as he refuses to meet your rushed rhythm, digging your nails into the meat of his broad shoulders to convey your urgency.

The Monegasques’ hold on your waist turns rough and you pull backward with a gasp when he pinches the skin of your arm. You glower at him in displeasure but it’s quick to fade as he guides you back to his lips with a heavy hand on the nape of your neck. His thumb and pointer finger are weighted from their position at the base of your skull, directing the tilt and movement of your head as he licks into your mouth and bruises your swollen lips further with pressure and stings of teeth.

He walks himself backward, one hand firm on your hip to guide you with him, the other rucking up the skirt of your sundress and sliding underneath to tug your panties down your legs with ease. You kick the fabric off your ankles distractedly, falling to straddle Charles’ lap as soon as he sits on the edge of the bed. His hand slips between the cradle of your thighs, cupping along your warmth and toying within your folds.

“Wet for me already,” he discovers delightedly, breaking the kiss to suck a mark into the sensitive skin behind your left ear and peppering more nips and teases of teeth down the stretch of your neck. Hisses of pleasure slip from your parted lips and you slant your hips forward to guide Charles’ fingers inside. You exhale breathily at the slide of a single finger in your cunt, rolling down onto his hand when you deem his pace too slow.

“Another, please,” you beg, moaning throatily when your boyfriend fulfills your plea without hesitation.

Two fingers turn into three, and three fingers turn into Charles flipping you over and pushing you into the bed so he can hover over you. With rushed hands, you both shove the zipper of his slacks and the hem of his briefs low for him to slip his cock out and press into you. The brunette shudders as he sinks within your depths, falling to his elbows, your moans and gasps of breath spilling into the same pocket of air when his hips rest against the back of your thighs. 

“M-move, please, Cha,” you cry, knees pressing into his sides and body rolling upwards to get a glimpse of friction during his stillness.

Charles drops his head to quiet you with a chaste kiss before matching the rhythm of your rocking hips, his rumbling groans quieted by your lips. He holds himself steady on one arm while he uses the other to reach above your head and drag a pillow downwards, tapping your ass briefly to wordlessly command you into rising upwards as he slips the cushion underneath you. As soon as the pillow is properly positioned, Charles’ slow grinds are exchanged for slamming thrusts, sharp flares of pain-dipped pleasure shooting up your spine and tightening the knot in your navel. Your breath is lost quickly and you struggle to recover, eyes screwing shut and exhales of expletives and whimpers of encouragement are all you can offer.

The Monegasque roughly slides his hand down your leg and grasps you by the ankle digging into the small of his back to keep him close, moving it to rest over his shoulder, and letting his hand fall to squeeze at your thigh for purchase as the change of position tightens the fluttering channel of your cunt around him. This angle feels like he’s digging deeper inside you; one of your hands scrambling to drag your nails down his toned back while the other fists in his hair as you shriek high-pitched into the heated air between your bodies.

“All mine,” you can feel the possessive lilt to his tone rumble through the thin skin of your throat as he sucks along the rapid beat of your pulse. Your nails decorate his back with red scores and it has Charles biting out sharp putain’s and rabbiting his cock into you forcefully, yet remaining conscious enough to realign his thrusts as he bullies his way inside of you to pound against your g-spot. His leaned forward position stretches the limits of your comfortable flexibility, but it allows his pelvis to barely scrape against your clit, sending a wave of overstimulating pleasure to your brain, your eyes rolling as the sensation knocks any form of rational thought from your brain.

He pauses to tug the front of your dress down, the hem tucked under the spill of your breasts. His fingers flick teasingly over a pebbled nipple while he folds himself lower to drag his tongue against the other and nip small marks around your areola. You fight against the assault on your chest; arching your back towards and away from him—chasing and running away from the pleasure simultaneously, yet you continue to grind onto his cock.

“Charles, f-fuck, lemme–uhuh—lemme ride ‘ou,” you whine out incoherently, pushing at his shoulder with a closed fist, hoping he’ll understand your slurred words as your tongue begins to feel heavy.

Your boyfriend pulls away from your breasts in question, panting roughly as he stares up at you to see a pure look of want in your dampened eyes,  lashes clumped together and brown skin flushing deeper when the eye contact is held unendingly. You know that Charles debated denying your request, or at least thought about making you beg for it, but he decides to kneel and drag you upwards into his lap without a fight. He allows you a brief respite to adjust your legs and anchor your arms over his shoulders, then tightens the hold of his hands on your waist, fingertips sure to leave indents as he assists your first upward motion, before solidly dragging you back down. 

The strength you regained in your legs from the short break disappears, knees weakening and body slumping into Charles’ chest, your head drooping to rest in the crook of his neck. 

Charles steadies your head and tilts you back gently, checking in, “Is this too much, mon amour? We can stop.”

“No,” you murmur, “You fucked the feeling out of my legs, Cha.”

He laughs warmly, situating his hands on your ass to direct your motions, the tone of his voice light as he coos, “‘s okay, mon coeur—I’ll do all the work.”

You brush your nose along his, moaning softly at the sweetened drag of his cock. Charles chases your bitten lips, groaning lowly as he deepens his thrusts, fingers dipping to circle your clit—always ensuring your release is prioritized. Your thighs begin to shake and his thrusts skip beats as he begins to near the precipice as well. Shuddering, you gasp into his mouth, attempting to alert him to your nearing orgasm but you’re unable to speak the words.

“It’s okay, mon amour,” your boyfriend soothes, “Cum for me—I’ve got you.”

“yesyesyes,” you babble mindlessly, Charles continuing to pound into you, not slowing the search for his release now that you’re orgasm is imminent. A few well-angled jabs of your g-spot and you’re gone; release frying your nerve endings and vision blurring as your boyfriend continues to ride your high to its very end. 

The Monegasque pulls out the moment your hips fight his hold, dropping his hand drenched with your pleasure from your clit to grab his cock, and with one stroke, he spills. Charles paints your navel and inner thighs white with whimpering moans, and lilted French. He milks himself into over-sensitivity, only stopping when the orgasmic relief shifts into pain. He kisses you on the cheek as he drags a finger through his cum pooled between your thighs. His hand rises to your mouth and he hums approvingly as your lips part and suckle his spend clean off.  

“Hm,” Charles sounds, staring down at the claim he’s spilled, his free hand rubbing his cum along your navel, “All mine.”

© httpsserene2024

[rockingbytheseaside]

Hiii I really love the one with the harbingers where reader calls them words of endearment from their homeland, can you do one where reader cooks for them food from their homeland? pantalone's part was so cute <33

✦ You cook them their favorite home meal, based on their homeland

(Or trying to guess what food the not-yet-playable characters might like based on their region, culture, or language. ) 

Pierro, Capitano, Dottore, Scaramouche, Pantalone, Childe 

✧ It is to no one’s surprise that Pierro, the Director of the Fatui, would easily drop everything to grant your needs. Just blink and the world’s spoils are at your feet, bestowed by your beloved. Expensive clothing, jewelry, art pieces, weaponry, or lavish dishes. With his money and status, plus being a connoisseur of the ancient lores of Teyvat, The Jester can easily acquire anything you require on a silver platter. 

But this time, it was you who tried to gift him something on a silver platter.

On an unsuspecting day, Pierro returned home only to be greeted with a strong scent of baked goods. The smell wafted all around the living quarters, warm and sugary. Glancing curiously, the Jester marched to the kitchen, where he found you grumbling to yourself. You stood with your oven mittens, a tray of voluptuous Kanelbullar presented in front of him; some were cut as you tried to take an analytical bite of the cinnamon rolls.

“Trying your hands at familiar recipes, my cherished?” - The man asked with a welcoming glance while you mulled and judged the taste of your cooked goods.

“Ah, Pierro, you’re right on time. Here, try this one for me. Does it resemble traditional cinnamon rolls?”

When the Jester took a bite, even his icy eye widened for a moment. A wave of nostalgia and warmth lanced his memories, ones he thought were long forgotten. The cinnamon rolls you baked were not the average confectionaries one could easily purchase, as the taste resembled traditional Khaenri’ahn Kanelbullar. A simple treat that all children and adults used to enjoy in their free time.  

“Well…? Oh no, don’t tell me it’s that bad?” - you awaited his response, but Pierro quickly shook his head.

“It’s rich and potent in taste, but not too sugary. Just like the ones in our Homeland… I didn’t think replicating such intricacies was possible. What did you add this time?”

Your eyes light up. Finally, some progress. “Really? I’ve been mulling over it for hours, I thought my taste pallet was going numb. I tried to find any local ingredients that might add the flavor of saffron and cardamon.”

“Like the golden Saffron…? They were a local specialty back in Khaenri’ah. Although some variants exist in Teyvat’s soil, they are not used as cooking ingredients here.” - Pierro pondered, amazed at your ability to combine other local spices to imitate the taste of the past.

As both of you mulled over how to achieve the most accurate results for these traditional Cinnamon Rolls, half of the tray was already gone.

“Although now that I think about it, my divine, I don’t think it would be an issue to send an expedition to obtain that rare spice for you. Especially if the result is such exquisite home pastry.”

✧ In this house, Il Capitano is the master chef. The man is proficient in the art of survival, thus, his skills in outdoor cooking are especially shown. From simple meat and vegetables, the Captain can come up with the best meat skewers you ever ate. Not to mention the topic of sustenance and growth is intertwined with a good diet. A man his size and capabilities puts immense care into outdoor survival and health.

But even a strong Captain deserves some spoiling for his hard work. 

After a wearying day spent honing the skills of his Fatui troops, a group of soldiers that will prepare for an upcoming expedition, Il Capitano was greeted with a surprise visit from you. You arrived right on time for their break, and as always, the Fatui soldiers couldn't help but eavesdrop on the Harbinger’s exchange with his beloved…

“I brought you your meal for today, Bife de chorizo. You need lots of protein.”

“Thank you.” - The Captain stood obediently, holding the lunchbox you brought.

“With Pico de Gallo and avocados. I also put some almonds and walnuts as a snack.”

“I understand.” 

“You are preparing for another important expedition. You must take care of your body after such intensive training, Cappy.”

“You are right, you are right.”

“And I don’t want to see anything left from the lunch boxes. Make sure to eat all of it, okay?”

“Understood!”

It sure was a sight. One would think the Harbinger was the student as he stood nodding vehemently while you scolded him. With one hand on your hip, you gave him an earful as you checked up on him, generously providing him a full-course meal neatly packed in a mealbox.

The Fatui soldiers were slightly jealous. Even they could easily tell that behind that pitch-black helmet, Il Capitano was absolutely joyous to have his beloved visit him and provide such mouthwatering nourishment. 

✧ Today, you were ready to tackle and kill Il Dottore. Why? Because that man barged into your kitchen and confidently announced himself as the culinarian for today’s dinner. A simple and kind gesture, right? You would rather starve than have The Doctor implode your kitchen again.

“Stop exaggerating as if I let your Serenitea Pot house crumble. It was just a little fire.” - Dottore defended himself, watching closely as you made him stand back from the stove. 

“I had to replace the whole walls, Zandik!”

The two of you stood in the kitchen, with the Harbinger peeking from behind your shoulders as you claimed dominion over the frying pan. The whole day, he was made watching you prepare Sumeru Kibbeh meatballs, since the last time he decided to dabble in the art of cooking, your house was put at stake.

He was a scholar, not a chef, unfortunately. But The Doctor is not ashamed to admit his impatience and lack of skill in the kitchen. Hence, he helped you as much as he could while you diligently taught him how Kibbeh is properly made. He remained silent but pleasantly subservient. The sight of your sleeves raised, hands tactfully molding the Kibbeh was oddly amiable. Especially when your face was so focused on the task, he couldn’t help but stare. 

Yet every time you fried the meatballs and set them aside on a pan lined with paper towels to drain, a sneaky hand would try to steal some. You’d slap his hand away.

“Nope. Hands off! Wait till dinner”

“They’ll end up being consumed anyway. I’ll just have a small tas-”

Slap!

And it continued for a long while, all the way to the end once you finished cooking. When the two of you finally sat down and began eating, Dottore would often remain silent. You were too busy relishing the dish, unaware of the Harbinger’s appreciation for your home-cooked meal. Sustenance is just a waste of time that the human body must go through to gain its energy. But it’s not the same when he is sitting with you casually, the warm afternoon sunlight wrapping the dining table, and the warm food steaming with an appetizing aroma.

For him, eating with you was different. It was simple, but it was home. 

✧ Scaramouche may huff and scoff all he wants, but when it comes to appraising your Unagi Chazuke, no master can compete with you. Perhaps because he is a puppet, but Scaramouche has a delicate pallet. He despises strong flavors and always preferred simpler dishes, to appreciate the unique flavor of a singular ingredient. He would never admit it vocally, but he would often crave your chazukes, and it was easily written on his grumbling face.

“Come on, just say it.”

The Balladeer lamented.

“Say it. My home cooking is the best, and you just want me to cook for you today.”

“...I won’t. I don’t have use in consuming any human meals.” - he mumbled in response, arms crossed. You sighed and with a wide smile, you turned away.

“Oh well. Guess you don’t want any, huh…? And here I thought I could prepare your favorite Unagi Chazuke today. But I guess it’s foolish-”

“No, Wait-!” - The Harbinger wished to bite his tongue but it was too late. He already called out to you in a moment of weakness, and your goofy grin only widened with his desperation. 

He gave up. With reluctant embarrassment, the Balladeer admitted your victory - “If you may… Can you prepare another one of your signature Chazuke? Please.”

And that’s how you two ended up by the dinner table. You couldn’t just deny him after such a heartfelt request. You prepared the unagi meat and rice diligently, showing him how to prepare green tea to add mild bitterness to the salted rice. Topping off with some dried Nori leaves, and sesame - two bows of Unagi Chazuke were ready and looking artistically grandiose.

Light and sublime, that’s what Scaramouche thought. A true definition of soul food, as he held his bowl and chopsticks close. A rare but sincere smile would always grace his features whenever he ate your cooking, but he of course would conceal it by clearing his throat.

“Hm, okay fine. Maybe your cooking is adequate after all. Especially when you don’t make it too sweet.”

You’d laugh at his reaction. At the end of the day, it was you who taught him how to cook what later would become his signature dish, even if his identity as a Harbinger was wiped away. 

✧ Being the richest man in Teyvat like Pantalone means dealing with lots of bureaucracies and business. Sometimes, after a prolonged day in the office, the sight of stacked papers becomes dreadful and negotiations with the Snezhnayan elites may go fruitless. Thus, The Regrator would often slum by his desk, removing his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose and sigh in exhaustion.

Now what would the richest man in Teyvat do to relax after a bad day at work? Go to the most expensive five-star restaurant? Perhaps purchase a fancy drink that costs more than his subordinates' monthly salary? No. He would head straight back home, where he knows you are awaiting him with open arms.

A single look at him and you would know he is fatigued. Leaning up to embrace him, you plant a tender kiss on his cheek - “How about I make us a quick snack, hm? You can go and take a shower in the meantime.”

Pantalone would try to conjure up a faint smile and nod. As he winds down for the day, subconsciously he knows your home cooking is like a balm to his soul. No matter how many exquisite restaurants he tried, he’d easily sacrifice all of them for a bite-full of your culinary.

And here you are, merrily handing him his childhood favorite - Mora Meat Roujiamo. A simple meat sandwich, but a staple street food in Liyue’s culture. That’s all the Harbinger desires after a tough day at work, as he gobbles the sandwich wrapped with a paper towel.

“Made your favorites. I added some extra meat since I know you like it juicy.” - you gave Pantalone soothing pats on the back as he ate up.

“You’re a lifesaver, honey. You would not believe how frustrating work has been today,”

Pantalone would rant and confide in you about his work. He would rather do that than delve into the nostalgic feeling that Mora Meat sandwiches gave him. It was indeed his childhood favorite. Yet it also reminded him how in the distant past, when food or money was scarce, starvation and desperation were his only companions as a lowly child. Thus, on better days when he acquired some change just to purchase simple Mora Meat - these sandwiches felt like a king’s feast.

Such an unadorned dish, but one that brought warmth and sustenance to a starved child, telling him that everything would be okay. Today, this starved child is the richest man in Snezhnayan. Nevertheless, he still relished these sandwiches from your hands like divine wealth, telling himself once more that everything would be okay. 

✧ Tartaglia was bedbound for some while, bandaged heavily after a massive battle he faced during one of his missions. The young Harbinger would never tell his family where his scars hail from, except for you and his father maybe. But after an earful of scolding, you took care of your reckless boyfriend and sighed.

“You made me worried, you know. I don’t want to see you move a muscle around the house these days, are we clear? You must recover first.”

“Y-yes, captain.” - Childe chuckled humorously, suppressing the soreness his cuts provided around his body. “It’s just… there is only one remedy that could save a fallen soldier like me.”

“Hm? What is it? Do you need something, Ajax?” 

“Please, dear… come closer.” - he said with a pained expression. 

You did so he could whisper to you what he wanted. Your concern was only heightened, oblivious that his dramatic words were playing you - “The secret to my healing… is…”

“Yes?” - you leaned even closer.

“... Some yummy food.”

You blinked at him, and Tartaglia immediately gained a comically “passed out” expression on his face, as if your cooking were his last death wish. You let him plop to the pillow and gritted your teeth - “Why you little-...! Ugh, you’re lucky I am worried about you. You just want me to pamper you.”

“Oh, come on, is that such an unrealistic request? You told me not to move a muscle and I would receive your scolding no matter what. Please, sweetheart, just anything you would like - cook it and I would happily gobble it up!”

You crossed your arms. You hate to admit it, but his puppy eyes were working effectively and if his appetite was returning, that means he is on a good path of recovery anyway.

“Fine… I’ll make something nutritious and easy for your stomach.”

Tartaglia's eyes lightened up in an instant. He was a simple man - if you cooked him something, he would drop on his knees for you instantly. That day, you pondered whether you’d make him some Piroshki or Borscht, but he needed something light. His health was your priority, after all. Even though Childe fancied himself a master at concealing his painful whinces, you are no fool. You always notice them.

Thus, your beloved was presented with Ukha fish soup. A warm bowl with fresh herbs, imported calla lily, and nutritious fish.

“Easy now, I know you like Calla Lily Seafood Soup, since you often had it in Liyue… So I decided to go with the local version of it. Now make sure to eat all of it, or you won’t feel better.”

Like an obedient child, Ajax felt pampered and delighted. Lunch by the bed? His sweetheart feeding him? The injuries were worth it as he happily ate the Ukha fish soup.

���If getting injured makes me taste food more worthy than the gods themselves, maybe I should get wounded more often, haha- Ow!”

Your response was another fistful nudge to his shoulder.  

Kanelbullar - in Swedish, Cinnamon Rolls Bife de chorizo - in Spanish, Argentinian beef cut Pico de Gallo - in Spanish, Mexican salsa/dip Kibbeh - in Arabic, bulgur parcel stuffed with minced meat filling (in Genshin, they just called it meatballs lol) Chazuke - in Japanese, green tea poured over a rice meal (Scara's signature dish)  Mora Meat - had to look this one up, apparently Genshin is referencing RouJiaMo (肉夹馍) meaning “meat in a bun". Ukha fish soup - in Russian, also known as fisherman’s soup. Childe’s signature Calla Lily Seafood Soup is probably a variation made with Gēng found in Chinese cuisine. But there is a Slavic variation that reminded me of his signature dish. 

[fairene]

one of your girls / ln4

part one

lando norris x fem!reader

reader uses she/her pronouns, no use of y/n.

part two

you are just one of his girls. a frequent regular. but something changes, and you are his favorite.

a/n ⋯ how do i explain myself...? guess i can't! this will be divided into two parts for the sake of dramatics, and truthfully i can't contain my excitement to share this with you all. reader's dresses are left to be ambiguous for your imagination, only the cut of the dress is described (perhaps a color, once, but i forget); as usual, it is always up to YOU what you are wearing;) i will be focusing on requests before the next part comes out!

inspiration ⋯ VIDEO

warnings ⋯ SMUT / 18++ minors DNI!!! language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), oral(m!receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, but not here; non monogamous (yet), insecure reader.

wc ⋯11.3k (unedited.)

your phone rang in from your bag, the vibration shocking you from your conference room in new york. you had been visiting there for your job, meeting with clients, and overall needing to schmooze the entire fucking office. you were sick of it at this point. 

and it was sunday, too. who works on a fucking sunday? you. because what’s life without the overtime pay? 

until you saw lando’s contact card lighting up your screen. you blushed, instantly, thinking of just how a week ago he had you laid out on his monaco penthouse, screaming and weeping his name while he fucked you rabidly. 

you answered, clearing your throat. 

“hello?” 

“i won! i won!” he shouted, the background noise of crowds drowning out the baritone of his voice. you raised a brow, but were quick to connect the dots. you’d been so busy with work that you’d forgotten that the race must’ve been over, you were only able to watch the beginning before you were swooped up into a meeting. 

your hand flew to cover your mouth as you stepped into your office, shutting the door. you couldn’t be loud, and tears began to welt in your eyes. “did you really?” 

“yes, yes! god, i’ve wanted this so bad…” he was absolutely full of rile and cheer. you could hear that from his voice clear as day. you were so happy for him. you wiped a stray tear that fell down your face and rolled to your chin. 

“i’m so happy for you, lan.” you breathed, laughing when your voice hitched with emotion. you knew that he caught it, letting out his own gasp at your retention. 

“you cryin’ for me?” he said your name, know damn well he had a cheeky smirk on his face. you scoffed, rolling your eyes and even he could hear the action. 

“shut up. let me be happy for you.” he laughed again, deep and rich, but relieved that you picked up the phone. it was hard for him to get your attention, though you felt vice versa. 

“let me be happy, then,” your brows raised at what he meant. “come to miami. tonight.”

you froze, your fingers fiddling with the hem of your work shirt. “lando…” you sighed. “you know i can’t…”

“please…!” he whined into the phone. 

your resilience to him was not good. clearly.

“call my boss.” you heard him yip and pop his lips. he was giddy and thrilled that you accepted his advances. it never did take much, though, did it? 

you hung up the phone before you could say anything else and settled back into your temporary station before you were back in monaco full time. the office here was more than sufficient and, you couldn’t help but thank god that you were here when lando called. the flight to miami wouldn’t be more than three hours. 

your boss knocked on the door a few minutes later with her brows raised. 

she spoke her name and you perked up. “you didn’t tell me you had family in miami,” she said, crossing her arms. but she wasn’t angry. 

“i do.” the lie was swift. but it wasn't really a lie, was it…?

“your cousin called me, said that you need to use pto hours for a wedding…” she looked at her apple watch. “which is in a few hours?” 

you gulped. “what can i say,” you shrugged, “i’m a workaholic.”

your boss shrugged, turning to leave. “take the week off, you deserve it.”

so this is what working so hard got you? damn. you practically leapt off your seat, packing away your laptop and other essentials you had brought to the office. when you were skipping down the steps of the building to the parking garage, you got a text. 

flight leaves 6

> one attachment 

it was lando. you opened the text as you were unlocking your door, realizing he sent you a boarding pass. he already filled out all your information. he wanted you there that bad, didn’t he? you wouldn’t even consider the two of you close friends rather than buddies who fuck. 

you hearted the message and raced home to pack. 

when you touched down in miami, there was a car waiting for you outside the airport. you were shocked with such lively treatment, but weren’t one to start complaining. the ride to lando’s hotel wasn’t very long, either, but it was beautiful. 

when you stepped out you were greeted by the miami breeze, refreshing from the stagnant air in your humid new york building. 

“thought you were gonna chicken out,” his voice was light and airy. you were so dazed by the grandeur of the building that you didn’t see lando standing there at the entrance. you immediately gaped at him, embarrassed that you were caught off guard. 

“on what, this? luxury? be for real!” you stifled a laugh. he held out his hand for your bag, and you gave it to him. but it was really meant for your hand. 

his other hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close. he peppered light kisses to your neck, but not your mouth. your relationship wasn’t intimate like that, it never was. kissing was the next step to love, you told him, and you never reached for his lips with the amount of times you’ve fucked. 

but he did. 

there was always something about your aura that allured him. it drew him in like a moth to flame, and he would happily burn if it meant being in your presence. but he wasn’t ready for a relationship, so he told himself, and neither were you…so you told yourself. 

yet you’ve explored each other’s bodies like vestigios conquerors. you knew what made him tick, he knew what made you squirm. it was a fair trade, you thought, and you had no intention of staying exclusive to him. 

but you’d make it known to him that when you were both together, there were no other girls around. no boys. it would be just the two of you in your own world, but it was on a time limit. 

your hand found the back of his neck, leaning into his lips, but you pulled back when you heard some whispering– paparazzi. 

you said nothing as you shifted past him, ripping his head from your neck. he looked confused before he glanced towards the growing crowd around the hotel entrance, some phones being whipped out to record. but he honestly didn’t give a fuck. 

but you did. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered as a whore all over your feed. you still needed your fucking job. 

“what,” he said, coming closer to you. you took a distancing step back. he came closer. you didn’t move this time. “you didn’t miss me?”

him and his fucking ego. 

but you did. 

“want me to show you?” you spun around, full of sass. he let out a light laugh, pressing his shoulders back and straightening his posture. little to your knowledge, he was rendered speechless and his dick tightened in his pants. blood flooded to his abdomen, which had him shifting on his feet. this fucking girl. 

“come on,” you cooed, nudging his arm. “i came here to celebrate, no? and you haven’t even bought me a drink yet!” you got him there. he nodded, quickling showing you up to his hotel room in miami. it was a beautiful room with a living room and a single bedroom with a king bed. 

when you were up there you got a good look, running your hands over the fabric of the couch and the untouched champagne sitting on the coffee table. “this doesn’t count,” you picked up the bottle, turning to face lando from where he stood, placing your luggage on an armchair. 

“what? not expensive enough for you?” you rolled your eyes at him, placing the bottle back down on the platter with the glasses. you made haste opening your suitcase, rummaging through the outfits you brought for the duration of your stay, and in particular, your dress. 

you pulled out the carefully folded fabric. you held it out in front of you, impressed by the lack of wrinkles, and turned to lando. 

his jaw fell agape, staring at the magnificent piece. it was a longer dress that went to your mid calf, and sparkled in the dim lights of the room. he moved closer to you, running his fingers over the fabric. you gulped in his presence. 

“shit,” he sighed out, followed by a laugh. “better put it on now.” you raised a brow at him, confused. “else we won’t make it out that fuckin’ door.” 

you stifled a giggle and ran towards the bathroom, changing quickly. 

there was a knock at the front door when you were just finishing up your look. lando answered when you peeked your head out of the archway to the bathroom. it was carlos. 

“ready yet, mate?” 

lando shrugged, moving out the way so carlos could make eye contact with you. he said your name with a cheer, brushing past lando to wrap his arms around you. he kissed both your cheeks in greeting, you returned it. lando hummed to himself, wondering what that kind of affection was like from you. guess he’d never know, huh? too intimate, the words rang in his head. 

fuck off. 

“you flew today?” carlos asked you. you nodded. 

“had to celebrate, didn’t i?” you let out a giggle, covering your stained lips when you glanced at lando who was focused elsewhere, his jaw clenching. it had your joy dying in your throat, suddenly feeling like there wasn’t any reason to smile at all. 

“of course!” carlos cheered, slapping lando on the back which had him falling back to earth. “can’t believe he finally did it.” lando’s first ever formula one win was an astronomical achievement. you wish you could’ve been there in person. 

“neither can i…” your voice trailed when you were focused on his freckled face. a constellation, you called it, and could lose yourself in counting them. and lando was looking at you and your beautiful face. he was addicted to you, he learned, and no girl could fuck him like you could. 

carlos glanced between the two of you and raised his brows. “right, then.” he cleared his throat. “let’s get going then, yeah? got the whole grid celebrating you, lando!”

you were quick to put on your heels and grab your clutch. lando waited by the door for you, holding the door open. 

when you brushed by him, he grabbed your arm and twisted you around. he pushed his head close to your chest, which had you flushing. 

“lando!” you scolded beneath your breath. 

“you smell like me,” he raised a brow. 

shit. you thought he wouldn’t notice. “grabbed your cologne on accident. was rushing…replaced it with mine, see?” you raised your wrist for him to smell and he did, nose brushing against your sensitive skin. your veins pumped just beneath a thin layer. you felt him inhale and you had shivers running up your spine. he glanced at you again, dropping your hand. 

“think mine’s better.”

he meant it. you smelling just like him had him on fucking edge. he didn’t understand why it mattered to him to such a high degree. the primal inclination soaring right over his head, but he knew you were his for the night. longer he would wish, but he would take anything he could get from you. 

you only rolled your eyes at him, proceeding to walk down the hall. he caught up with you, hand coming to your lower back to guide you. when you made it to the elevator, he stuck his head into your neck again, breath hot as it fanned against your skin. you leaned into him, but stomped your heeled foot. 

“lando…” 

he grumbled something inaudible. 

“speak, won’t you?” you gripped his chin, pulling him upward. 

“driving me fuckin’ crazy.”

your breath caught in your throat. he was always touchy, but it was never this intense. the way he grumbled against the skin of your throat, the needy vibrations which plucked deeply at the strings of your heart. but there shouldn’t be any of your heart involved.

“you’re just a madman, then.” 

he chuckled. “gonna lock me up?” 

if only, you wanted to say, but held your tongue. 

“papaya does look good on you.” you giggled, hand roaming his chest. but you were right about his madness. he was sickeningly crazy. he should be institutionalized, even, in the comfort of your home. what a hell that would be, wouldn’t it?

the drive to the club was short. it wasn’t very far from the hotel. the inside of his expensive mclaren had you dazzled, though it wasn’t really his, just a rental whilst he was in miami. still, your fingers found the pleasure of finding the leather that boarded the doors, wondering just how much leather you could adorn as decoration. 

lando, on the other hand, was white knuckling the steering wheel the entire time, debating whether or not his hand would find a good home on the skin of your thigh. your dress had been too long for that, though, and he didn’t…fuck, he didn’t even know. he was anxious to be with you this weekend, not hesitating to call you to be the first one to come down to congratulate him.

he had so many other girls. why did he choose you? he didn’t know it himself, wasn’t sure if he was ready to face such intense truths, but his heart led him astray dialing your phone number. he didn’t even hesitate nor want to connect with another girl, just you. 

fucking hell, and you looked heavenly in that dress. he would spend the entire fucking night shifting his pants to hide his stark boner from your eyes. 

rolling up to the club, he gave his keys to the valet and you stepped out, fixing the fabric of your scrunched dress. you made your way over to him, elegant as ever, when the cameras began to flash. the amount of attention frightened you, and your phone fell to the ground. it clattered against the pavement. 

lando reached down smoothly to pick it up for you, his movements lingering for a moment. when he rose, his hand grazed the back of your exposed calf, trailing up your body to rest on the fabric of your lower back, the top of your ass. you wanted to swat his hand away teasingly, but for the night…you’d allow it. the cameras flashed more and more. lando only separated from you to take a few selfies with fans, but that had been it. 

his hand found your back once more, pulling the fabric down that was scrunched at the back. he also did it as an excuse to rest his hand on your ass. guilty!

and you let him. more cameras flashed. he was yours for the evening. so you’d relish in the momentary fame, but would surely be horrified by the comments the next morning. but fuck it, you looked hot in this dress and wouldn’t let these heels go to waste. let them envy you, for you were surely going to envy the next girl on his arm. what? no you weren’t. that thought was fleeting. you were shocked that you imagined of such a scenario. 

inside the club was an ambiance of celebratory cadence. it was lively. the bright lights, cheering on goers. everyone seemed to swarm lando, congratulating him and patting him on the back. he was so happy here. 

you attempted to shimmy out of the limelight to give him the attention he deserved, but he tightened his hold on you, digging his fingertips into your waist. you were surprised, looking at him with confusion, but he didn’t even take his eyes off of one of the mclaren engineers who attended the festivities. 

playing arm candy wasn’t your specialty, but you had the basics down. smile and laugh. straight posture. being fucking perfect. easy stuff, you know? surely sitting in an office chair for your day to day would enthuse a straight spine. surely listening to your old, ratty coworkers jokes would have you rolling with laughter and smiles. surely it was the easiest thing in the world to be perfect for lando norris–

your name was called by a girl at your side. it was alexandra!

you gasped, swinging out of lando’s arms and throwing yourself into her. she caught you, looking absolutely elegant while doing it, and smiled into your hair. 

“thank god you’re here!” you cheered, your hands landing on her shoulders to steady yourself. she looked stunning this evening. but she always did. you envied her for that much. 

“of course!” her french accent was sweet and endearing. her voice was even softer. “none of us would miss it. i’m glad you’re here!” 

alexandra and you had grown a relationship over the past few years you’ve been acquainted with lando. she seemed to always be where you were, and by coincidence, the two of you followed each other on tiktok and realized you had, if not, the same humor. you began messaging each other back and forth, and there you had it– a beautiful friendship between the two of you. being long distance best friends was hard, but it was times like these that you were grateful to see her. 

lando had froze when he felt you slip from his grasp, a horrible feeling of incomprehensible dread washing over him that he couldn’t pinpoint why. he interrupted the conversation he was having to see you with your arms wrapped around alexandra, kissing both of her cheeks. his face flushed, hand tightening on the drink he was given by his mates. 

why not him? 

lando excused himself and clung to your side. you jumped at the feeling of his hand around your waist, eyes snapping up to meet his… irritated ones? you were at a loss as to what could warrant such a look, but you didn’t let it linger when you shifted closer to him, your hips against his thighs. he seemed to relax both his body and face, giving alexandra a smile.

she was amidst congratulating him when charles and carlos approached. rebecca at carlos’ side. 

“is this a party or…?” charles remarked, luring you all to the center of the room to dance. lando glanced at you. you could feel his eyes, but you didn’t meet them. not yet. you thought that if you had, you wouldn’t be able to stop tonight. not with how good he looked, not with how he smelled. 

on the dance floor was no better. his hands were all over you. it was a bittersweet homecoming to feel so close to you, so flustered. but you loved the way he made you feel. pure adrenaline. alive. your hips swayed and grinded into his own, him matching your pace with a drink in his hand. there had been one in yours too, but you downed it already. 

at one point when the beat dropped, they all began to shout his name. you included. his cheeky little smile had him muster the courage to down his drink, emptying the large glass. whoops and hollers filled the club, and there were no more words to describe how magical this night was for him. he would remember it forever, and you couldn’t blame him. 

he was magnificent in the spotlight. with a charming tongue, funny jokes, and charisma that had him swooping up any girl he could want. there were a pack of women surrounding him before he pulled you by the arm, interrupting your conversation with alexandra, twirling you to be plastered against his side. the women’s attention didn’t last long after that. 

“cheeky, aren’t you?” you raised your lips to his ears, daring to lay one against the top of his throat. you felt him swallow, his adams apple thick and bobbing. 

“don’t like to be a cornered animal.” you knew it was meant to be a joke, but there was a layer of truth to it that you couldn’t ignore. lando didn’t do well in crowds without flustering with anxiety. to that truth about him, you could toast to. 

you were back on the floor with him in a matter of minutes, engaging in conversation with alexandra and charles. lando was talking to others as well, but he was firm against your back, hand on your stomach. the action had you blushing, unable to forget any time that he’d lay his hands there, asking if you could feel him. and you could. now, you could feel the imprint of his cock behind you. you didn’t know how he could last this long without asking you to fuck him in the bathroom, but you weren’t complaining. 

yet!

steadily as the night progressed, he would be laced with sweat and the smell of him. a mix of body odor, sure, it smelt like lando. your lando for the night. he flashed you a smile as he leaned over your body from behind, both hands gripping your hips against him. 

you returned the gesture, but were much more bashful than he anticipated. you were giving him that look. a look that he had become trained to respond to. his dick instantly hardened. pavlov was onto something, wasn’t he? 

you both had been there for hours. you could only handle so many more amped up bass drops. and you were both plastered enough. it was around four in the morning when you were tumbling out, giggling and laughing at who knows what. 

one of the valet club drivers even drove the both of you back to the hotel. neither of you are in the state to drive. 

in the car, one of your legs was atop his, slotted between his thighs. you could feel his pulsing cock and your mouth watered at the sensation. he was staring at you through dangerously dark eyes, reflecting back your own stare of desire. it was like looking in a mirror for the both of you. ravaging and desperate to have one another’s hands on each other’s bodies. 

lando took liberty and lowered his head to your exposed shoulder, pulling down a thin strap of your dress to your bicep. he kissed the skin tenderly, an action too intimate for your own good, but you were too fucking drunk to deny it. 

“fucking beautiful,” he muttered into your skin, quiet for only your ears to touch. you let your fingers trace up the side of his face lazily, feeling your gaze spinning beneath his tender words. 

“i’m proud of you,” you whispered, brushing a stray curl from his sticky forehead up into the rest of his hairs. “you know that, don’t you?” 

your voice had been tender. delicious to his drunken ears. though he knew he’d remember this sober– he had a feeling. how could he forget that tone of voice, your gentle touch, clearly breaking the bounds of what was too intimate.

he gulped, eyes flaring wide at your declaration. his hand found your thighs then, gripping the soft flesh with depth. 

your fingers traced down to his bottom lip, puckering the flesh, but dropped to the car seat with a laugh. you brushed off his shocked expression, leaning back into the cool leather. but his grip didn’t relent. he kept his eyes on you, too, unable to find something else to fixate on. you were the object of all of his desires. he confirmed it then when he was desperate to hear more of your unsolicited praises from your lips. 

he craved your lips. 

lando’s head dropped to your waist, his face nuzzling into your soft flesh. he kissed through the fabric of your dress, desperate to feel you beneath such a guarding sheath from your skin. you turned your head to look at him from where your gaze latched to the window, your hand rolling down the curve of his neck. 

you kept your hand there for the remainder of the drive, but didn’t look down at him. you knew you’d be face with those desperate, glistening green eyes of his. you’d fall weak beneath the light of his love, and you’d find yourself disappointed when he didn’t want what you did. a relationship, dare you think it just for one second. 

the valet driver dropped the two of you off and was able to manage a cab on his own back to the club. lando tipped him a hundred euros for his time, beginning to sober himself enough to walk in a straight line and speak without slurring his speech. 

you were the same. stretching your legs from the car, hands above your head in a dramatic feline stretch. lando’s eyes were on you the entire time, gaping at your figure. your ass. his lip caught between his teeth, and you caught him ogling. 

your hips began to sway beneath the music of his eyes. you’re unable to resist his humorous allure, crumbling the second the second the corner of his eyes uplifted. a smile followed, his gapped, perfect, teeth shimmering the reflections of the pale moonlight. 

he stretched out his arm for you to join him at his side. you sashayed there, twirling in your heels that ached your feet. but you did it for him. you’d do it all, though the alcohol was driving your thoughts. 

lando swooped you into his grasp, wrapping his arms around your waist and digging his fingertips into your hips. you laughed amicably, his presence both a comfort and a feat of pride. 

you mustered the strength to break his hold, trotting up the steps of the hotel. your heels were loud in the quiet, tender moments of the rising miami sun, and your giggles even more so. lando wasn’t far behind, skipping the steps to catch up with you. 

you’d never seen him hit an elevator button harder. you resisted the urge to laugh, knowing it was an impossible situation to be so loud at dawn. so you bit your fist in your mouth, choking down a sound that lando yearned to hear. 

when the elevator arrived he jumped right in, dragging you along– though it’s not like you hesitated– by your elbow. 

he immediately began trailing kisses down your throat, the column of your neck, your collarbones, shoulders. he left no place untouched by his devout, worshipping lips. he’d often say in the heat of the moment that you were the best thing he’s ever tasted– a man feral for your sweet nectar– but you just thought it to be the post-euphoria sex high. 

the british driver muttered something into your neck which had your eyes flaring wide, uncertain if you heard him correctly. 

you pushed his head back, gripping at the curls near the base of his neck. “what did you say?”

he looked flushed. embarrassed. he choked on his words, shaking his head. he was clearly brushing it off. 

“nothin’.”

he resumed devouring your neck, saliva dripping onto your dress, but his words bubbled. 

the ding of the elevator alerted both of you. he was the one to lead the way to his hotel room, swiftly opening the door with skilled ease, and had you against the wall in minutes. he gripped at the fabric of your dress, tempting to rip it. you hissed with contempt. “don’t,” he looked up at you with heavy eyes and a half toothed smirk, challenging you. “too expensive.” 

you felt him scoff against the skin of your chest. “‘too expensive.’” he mocked. 

but he heeded your words, gentle with how he lowered the straps to your forearms. your head lolled against the wall, eyes glistening with liquidated pleasure. there was nothing better in the world that could feel better than lando norris’ lips against your skin. each press was a blessing, a kiss of life, hungry for the divination you relented this evening. 

“so fucking beautiful,” he breathed when he shimmied you out of the dress, neatly undoing the zipper. you wore nothing under the dress besides panties, which had his eyes gawking at your taut, perked nipples. you shifted forward, desperate for his touch on your suddenly cold body. 

lando didn’t wait. his cock was already painfully hard in his pants, punishing the fabric for being so restrictive. he pulsated, precum already ruining the pair. 

his lips found your nipple, other palm fisting the firm flesh. you let out a sweet moan that was delicious to his starving ears, your hips bucking into his for a relenting yearn for release. he let out the deepest chuckle from his throat, finding such impending amusement for your desire. 

when he was contempt with the titillation of your nipples, he moved to the skin of your belly, biting softly at the skin. enough to leave bruises for his own eyes when he’d see you next. next. there was always a next with you. 

but you had other plans. 

your hands reached for his face, pulling him to meet your eyes. his own blew wide, flickering to your lips, to your eyes. 

“let me,” you whimpered, reaching for the buckle of his pants. he’d stop you, usually intending on getting you off with his lips or tongue before he could even cum. but tonight, he couldn’t resist your lips. you looked up at him with pure heaven written in your iris’. 

he swallowed before nodding his head rapidly, his forehead leaning into yours. “yeah, yeah, please.” 

lando norris wasn’t a man to beg. he didn’t have to do any of that shit for his other girls– they were always eager to please him, fuck him, suck him off– but for you…

your lips found his neck, feeling the thick muscles with your tongue. it was arousing how muscular each part of his body was, thundering with endurance. 

there was a soft mewl in his throat when you slid your hand down the front of his pants, beneath his briefs, over the length of his cock. the sound excited you tenfold– wishing that you could hear it a hundred times over again. it was addicting how he wanted you. 

when your finger grazed his tip, his hips bucked instinctively into you, just how yours had. he cursed under his breath, letting his head fall limp into the crevice of your neck. 

you laughed into his skin, finally falling to your knees to drop his pants and briefs. his cock sprung free, red and vibrating for your touch. your touch. you often wondered how his other girls treated him. if you were better, if you were the worst. obviously not the worst if he was the one to call you after his first win, right?

one hand stroked his length, traveling to his balls, simultaneously glancing up at him. he was staring down at you, riddled with urgency, a pleading look reflecting in your eyes. his bottom lip caught between his teeth when his hand found the back of your head, stroking the sides of your face. 

his thumb caressed your bottom lip. it caused your lips to open for him, and his thumb found your tongue. you swirled it around the pad of his finger, never breaking the shared look between you two. you let him go with a pop, and he found his hand at the base of your neck again, hand wrapping a makeshift ponytail with his hand. 

your lips swirled around the head of his cock, swallowing the precum that dampened his briefs. he held back a rumble in his throat which annoyed you, so you took him wide in your mouth, bottoming him out in the back of your throat. 

your cunt clenched around nothing when his whole body sang in praise of your lips. he faltered when you began a steady pace of back and forth, stimulating his balls with your other hand. curses fell from his lips, sinful words, and he gripped your hair tightly. with his other one, he fell forward against the wall, bracing for dear life.

but you didn’t relent. faster and faster you went, and you were awarded by his hips snapping into you, cock gagging your windpipe. you choked, tears forming in your eyes, but it was divine how satisfying it was. to see his eyes rolling back into his head, hands shaking, desperate to feel you up. from this position, below him, you could see the entire world. you had it all on the tip of your tongue. 

“fuck, baby…” he groaned. you felt so good around him. warm and tight. it felt like fucking home for him. somewhere he’d always come back to. and he would. no other girl could make him feel this way, had him about to cum in a matter of three minutes. your lips were made to take his cock, and he would yell that to hell and back for the entire world to know. 

he felt you moan against his cock, the sound echoing in your throat. he swallowed harshly, drool dripping down the side of his chin at the sight of you alone. you were perfect. 

and when your hand came to run over your nipples, kneading at the skin of your breasts, he felt his abdomen tighten. you found so much pleasure in sucking him off that you felt the need to touch yourself. fuck, he never thought he’d see something so hot in his entire life. 

he knew he’d been done for in a matter of seconds. with a firm grip of your hair, he pulled you back from his cock. you looked offended, disappointed when the drool from your lips trailed down your chin. 

“not yet,” he uttered, gripping the side of your face with his other hand. his cock was angry, furious at the lack of attention. he was practically fucking edging himself. “wanna cum inside you.” 

say less, you wished to say, but all that came out from your lips was a whine. 

and then you were laid out on your back on his bed. the white sheets were clean and made, cold beneath your scorching skin. 

lando traced two fingers up your thigh, the junction of your hips, your waist. you shivered, toes clenching at the sensation. then to your naval, your pussy, your dampened underwear. a ruined pair, no doubt. he smirked, lip curling. 

“all for me, huh?” 

you nodded instantly. 

his hand slapped against your flushed pussy. you whimpered, grasping at the sheets. 

“words, pretty girl.”

“yes!” you gasped when you felt him tug the underwear down your legs. “you, you, you, lando. all you.”

he practically purred. your folds were swollen and glistening, drenched from how his cock pounded into your mouth. “so wet,” he observed, twisting his fingers to trail up your slit, gathering the slick between his fingers. he raised the pair to his mouth, tasting your sweet juice on his tongue. your legs pulsed together, eager for friction, a quiet mewl leaving your throat at the sight. “tastes like heaven.”

“lando…” you were getting impatient now. rightfully so. he stood there with his hardened cock, teasing you with his firm fingers. 

“what’dya want, baby? hm?” he asked, knowing damn well what the answer would be. yet he’d trace his hands gently up the sides of your body, fingers dancing over your nipples. you writhed. 

“you.” you said endearingly. “fuck me, lan, please.” 

he was so impressed with your manners that he couldn’t resist slipping his cock inside of you. atop of you he caged you in, a blessed enclosure, lips pressing to your exposed chest. you whined at the initial stretch, always finding yourself so tight around his thick cock. 

“fuck, lando.” you hissed, teeth clenching at his immaculate girth. it was a pleasurable burn, and your arousal only had you clenching around him. he huffed through his nose, hot hair breathing over your skin. 

“i know, baby,” he reassured you with his bittersweet voice. “y’can take me, can’t you? always such a good girl for me.” 

you whined at his words, low moan bellowing in your throat. you squelched with your slick and he could feel it. he smirked, having the gall to chuckle, even. but you didn’t punish him for it, especially not when he began to move his hips back and forth, a pair of fingers coming to rub against the bundle of nerves placatated at your clit. 

the sensation of feeling him slip in and out of you was impeccable. you could find no other pleasure than his cock nestled inside of you, filling you to the absolute hilt of your dreams. the imprint of his dick had him riled with lust when it ran over your lower belly. 

“feel me here,” his hand came to grab yours, bringing it to the imprint of his cock inside of you. “don’t you?” 

you nodded, lip catching between your teeth and opposite hand threading through his curls as if you were a needle and thread. “so good, lando, please. keep going.” 

and he did. if you asked him to do anything right now, he would’ve. the slapping of skin echoed in the hotel room, filling silence with vulgar sounds from both of your lips. lando was a moaning mess at the pulses of your cunt, intent on sucking him dry from his cum. and he was an expert at navigating your clit, pinching and swirling the rough pads of his fingers. 

your eyes rolled in the back of his head when you bucked your hips for a better angle. “deeper,” you said, finding a grim satisfaction at the thought of him splitting you open. 

his eyes flashed to yours, bloodshot and red with lust, and shifted so your thighs were over his shoulders. your back arched for him and he was pleased to see your receptiveness. his hips didn’t falter, and neither did his hands. 

this angle had been more than what any gospel could provide. more than any destiny written out for you. fucking him was written in the stars, you knew it for certain, and you blossomed into a glistening constellation before him. for he was the entire universe for you, and you just a mere fractal in the midst of it all. 

but oh, how that wasn’t true. how you were the sun in which he orbited, woke up and thought of. you were the first person that he called after his father, needing your presence with him in miami. he needed this. your cunt. your pleasures, your moans. you, it was on the tip of his tongue, edging its way forward through the kisses he laid upon your neck. 

you were drenched in his saliva, coated in the thick musk of lando norris. he would never say it aloud but he dreamed of the day to see his cum dripping down your thighs, full of him, the remnants of your love affair sticky and haughty with each step that you’d take. 

it was a primal instinct that became so vicious. it overtook him, thwarting him into a dick-measuring contest whenever you went out with him. he’d keep you close. his, the message would be clear. no man would approach you when he had his hand on your lower back, your hips in his hands, your pelvis grinding against his own. you were his own keepsake. the light at the end of the tunnel. a brazen warrior that he’d follow into any battle. 

the only battle he was intending on winning was the war of your heart, blessed be his troops. 

it only took a few more harsh thrusts of his cock and twiddling of his fingers before you were painfully close to a release. he could feel it. he knew it like the back of his hand. your trembling legs, intense writhing against his hold, your breathy moans. he wished he could take a picture of you, flushed and desperate, and keep it in his wallet. 

“come on, baby.” he urged, feeling the own heat of his orgasm rising in his lower stomach. he had been resisting the urge to cum for your sake, always finding a deeper satisfaction in seeing your overstimulated face after the fact. 

“come for me, won’t you? pretty thing. i’ve got you,” the words of praise that were only meant for you. he didn’t call any of his other girls ‘baby’, but you wouldn’t know that. you couldn’t know. it would ruin all of this, wouldn’t it? wouldn’t it? 

i’ve got you, he said tenderly. it’s what had you compulsing, drenching his cock in your slick. your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in the euphoria of what was lando norris’ pleasure. 

he was staring at your worn out face, his own tongue coming to swipe at his bottom lip. he was ready to feast on you. 

lando’s own orgasm was swift to follow. the rhythm of his hips faltered, sloppily, aggressively. the overstimulation against the walls of your cunt was delectable. 

“come for me,” you begged him. it had his eyes flaring once more, shocked to hear such a request from your pretty lips. “inside me, lan, need it…” 

“fuck…” he groaned, and with one last snap of his hips he was spilling out inside of you. his forehead fell into the crook of your neck, breathing heavily. your chests moved in unison, catching your breaths after such an intense fuck. 

you were sticky against him. his body fell atop of yours, and your hands wrapped around his back. one hand came to run up and down his neck again, which had his eyes fluttering with sleep. but he didn’t let himself, and instead moved to get a towel for you both.

he slipped outside of you, the warmth of your cunt had his expression falling. he saw your face, too, empty once he made his way to the on suite. he grabbed a handheld towel and ran it under the warm water, and crossed the space between the bathroom and the bed. 

lando let it run up your thighs, between your legs. your cunt was swollen still, his cum thick and dripping from your slit. he smirked to himself, cleaning the remnants of himself from the immediate vicinity, but wouldn’t go further. 

you were aware. entirely too aware of how warm you felt. how filled you were. it was filthy how good sex with him was. you could never orgasm with any man but him. 

lando fell to the bed beside you, opening the sheet for you to slip in beside him. you hesitated, never having spent an entire night with him, except for a few drunk evenings. did this count? you weren’t sure. you’d certainly remember that mind blowing orgasm. 

but his eyes were drooping with sleep, weary when you hesitated. you couldn’t resist, and slid in beside him, comforted by the furnace of his body. 

lando’s head found home, once more, in the side of your neck. you brushed the hairs from his sweating forehead, roamed through his scalp. you ran circles through his hair until you heard the soft snores coming from him. it only took a few seconds for him to fall asleep in your arms and for once, you were perfectly content with that. if this was what your life would be, then so be it. 

the british driver woke approximately twenty four hours later. 

when he woke, you were not there. 

he was startled as he searched for you, but there was no sign of you. he sat up in his bed, sun peeking in through the curtains. he rubbed his eyes, hand resting on the spot that you had laid in. there was an imprint from your body. 

when he checked his phone, he knew he was in deep shit. 

“fuck.” it really had been a full day that he slept through.

but there were no texts from you. 

his gut tightened, heart beating loudly in his throat. why are there no texts from you? 

he scanned the room to find a glass of water on the nightstand, previously iced from the ring of water around the side of it. and there was a note, too, with some ibuprofen. he picked it up. 

had a good night

proud of you always

text me when you’re up x

and it was signed by you. 

he folded the piece of paper.

he supposed it was a good night. the best sex he’s ever had, in fact, and wouldn’t forget his own confession in the elevator. he wasn’t sure if you heard it or not, but there was a part of him that wanted you to. 

“you were always my favorite,” he spoke into the column of your neck. 

the next time you saw lando was in monaco. 

you were back home and invited by alexandra to the paddocks for the home race of charles. you accepted, of course, hoping to catch a glimpse of lando. 

you hadn’t texted him much, but neither had he. you heard first from him on that tuesday morning and it had you smiling at the airport, bags in hand. you texted back, and it was sporadic from there on out. it’s been a few days since either of you’ve said a word, and it was beginning to wane on you. 

alexandra repeated your name. 

“yeah?” you responded, head snapping towards her direction. 

“i asked if you were feeling alright.” 

“oh.” you breathed, laughing it off. “of course, do i not seem okay?” alexandra shook her head, petting leo’s little head in her hands. 

“you’ve been quiet, that’s all.” 

and you had been. but since she noticed, you were determined to make her forget about it. 

“nervous for charles,” you lied. but alexandra bought it and agreed with you, shedding her anxieties for her boyfriend’s home race. 

you were standing on the balcony with her in ferrari’s hospitality. you looked elegant today, matching alexandra’s own vibe. your hands were clasped together as you were leaning down, watching the drivers go in and out for their free practice. 

alexandra was still ranting about how nervous she was for charles when you saw him.

the papaya was noticeable from anywhere. 

lando

lando and company. 

a girl trailing behind him. her hair was done neatly, blonde, painfully thin. you grimaced against your will, face scrunching with a bitterness you had never felt before. 

alexandra tapped your elbow before she looked down at what you were staring at. 

“asshole.” she remarked, scoffing. 

you raised a brow. “you think so?”

alexandra nodded as if it was obvious. “don’t know why he brings them around,” she sighed. “not when he could have you.” 

you never felt so flattered before. you blushed, thanking her for saying something so kind. though you denied having feelings for him. she knew it was a lie this time. 

lando glanced up at the balcony, finding your eyes inevitably. he could feel your stare at the back of his head. 

and he fucking waved. 

the girl beside him looked up, too, but she did not. 

you could see lando’s smile from up here, but in your intensive bitterness, you did not wave back. you stood and turned to go back into ferrari’s hospitality, not thinking twice about your decision. 

the rest of the weekend you spent in bitter earnest. you’ve never seen yourself in such a state. but you plastered on a smile for alexandra and charles, entirely too elated when he crossed the finish line first in monaco. you held her as she weeped with joy. 

and, of course, you were invited to the festivities for the evening. your attitude was soured by the girl latched to lando’s arm throughout the entire weekend. but he looked so nonchalant with her, careless. none of it mattered. you’d put on your best dress for the evening. 

in the club you were found nursing a martini in your hand, not quaint on the taste, but were keen on getting wasted. you didn’t want to deal with whatever shit storm of emotions were brewing inside of your head. seeing lando with another girl was not new for you to witness. it was the norm, in fact, and you never thought about it otherwise.

but something changed that night of his win in miami. you knew it. he knew it. the words he uttered into your neck in that elevator was sending you up the wall and skyrocketing into the abyss of the universe. and you believe that somehow, he would find you.

he would find you. 

lando saw you instantly when you entered with alexandra and charles. rebecca and carlos paired together, too, leaving you the odd one out with no arm candy on display. good, the thought was impulsive. 

the girl beside him was giggling at something he said. but it wasn’t meant as a joke. he was convinced that she just had no idea what he was talking about, and was eager for a good fuck from him. he knew his skills of pleasure were not in comparison to any low life dude, but no girl could fulfill the void of receptiveness. of yearning desire. 

so when he tilted his head back to down the rest of his drink, he grimaced at the taste, and turned back to the girl he brought with him. but he kept stealing glances at you in your short dress. it was like you were punishing him– were you? he suddenly felt like a dog, a bad boy, reared and chained to the dog house outside your house of a heart. 

but you didn’t see him. not for a while, actually. you were intent on staying true to your morals– staying away from him this evening. he only brought trouble for you. confusion. you were sick of this back and forth, and most importantly, this rotten feeling of jealousy. it wasn’t a good look on you, or so you thought. 

“dance with me?” alexandra asked you. you accepted, of course, grabbing her hand and holding it high above the crowds as she led you to the dance floor. you were both twirling and laughing with your drinks in hand, purely electric with the rap music. charles joined her, gripping her from behind. you couldn’t help but watch, gulping down the feeling of envy. 

alexandra noticed. she knew what you were going through, even if you wouldn’t say it aloud. your ‘relationship’ with lando has gone on for far too long without any real commitment. everyone knew he was your favorite girl to be around, except you. you were the only one, apparently, who didn’t know that lando looked at you like a goddess reincarnate. 

and when you shook off your thoughts of envy, your eyes found another pair staring back at you.

sharp emeralds, piercing through the musk of the club.

your breath hitched, catching solemnly in your throat. 

the blonde was grinding up against him, throwing her head back against his shoulders. one hand was on her hip, the other with an empty shot glass in his hand. the girl was enjoying herself, at least, and you wondered if he fucked her the same as he did you. 

his eyes didn’t leave yours as his hips swayed in motion with hers. his hair was disheveled, a coat of sweat gleaning on his forehead. 

the pair of you were waiting to see who would break first. who would succumb to the challenge. you wanted so desperately to win, to grab another random man and kiss on his neck, but you were detested. 

the air inside the club felt heavy, and the world would collapse on you. the weight was too much on your shoulders as you became lightheaded. 

“i need air,” you said to alexandra before you fled from the dance floor, leaving your glass on the counter. 

the air of monaco was brisk when it pierced your skin, your thighs, your shoulders. but it was a much needed refreshment from the confines of that fucking club. you felt nauseous, sickened by lando’s eye contact with you. how dare he. 

you looked around before turning the corner of the club, seeing a pair of men smoking a cigarette. 

“care to share?” 

the men glanced at one another and the one holding the pack nodded. he handed you one and you placed it to your lips. he held out the lighter, too, and lit it for you. 

you weren’t one to smoke. it was a drunk cigarette kind of night. 

they insisted on you staying with them, talking each other up to be some pair of scrouges who deserved your attention. you politely declined their advances and walked the other way, feeling colder when the tobacco hit your lungs. 

when you blew out your first puff, it wasn’t long before the cigarette was ripped from your lips. 

“hey–” 

“this shit isn’t good for you.” 

lando.

he found you out here. rather, he chased you out. the minute he saw you turn your back he scrambled, pushing past every person that came in his way.

you scoffed, unable to look at him as you crossed your arms. 

“you don’t know what’s good for me.”

he paused, sucking in a tight breath. his jaw clenched. the cigarette was thrown to the ground, crushed beneath his foot. 

“rude–” you uttered, cut off when he grabbed your elbow. that had you looking at him. and his expression didn’t disappoint.

his eyes were widened, pupils blown wide as he looked into your own. his lip trembled momentarily, jaw entirely too tight for his own good. 

“what’s going on with you?” he wondered, holding eye contact with you. 

“nothing.” you answered instantly, brushing him off. but he didn’t accept that. 

“‘nothing,’” he mocked. “you’re not a very good liar.” 

you hummed. “thanks.” 

the conversation widdled down, but he wasn’t about to give up. 

“tell me,” he requested, his face pulling closer to yours. you had to give it to him. he was determined. but you were too.

“there’s nothing to tell.” you bit back. 

“i care about you. come on–” your name fell sweetly from his lips. he was prepared to grovel at any second now. 

but you cut him off. “ohhh…! yeah, right, you care? pfft, no need to pretend, lando.” 

he pulled back, shocked that you got in his face. your words were cruel, but he felt the double meaning behind them. 

“what?” he asked, softly. you knew then that he was hurt. 

but jealousy was a monster.

“i wish i was as stupid as you think i am.” you rambled, hands thrown up with emotion. but you were done with this conversation. “fuck it, i’m leaving–”

but he used his other hand to ground you before him. “don’t.” he pleaded. eyes watering. 

“what? like you’d notice?” 

then the bells chimed in his head. an alert that he understood what this was. he was stupid in not knowing what was happening before him. 

you’re jealous. 

“didn’t take you for a jealous type.”

you scoffed. “you’re ridiculous.”

but he shook his head and tsked. “can’t believe it, baby, that you hid it for so long.” 

“fuck you.”

he blew out a huff of air as if he were wounded, hand coming to run over his chest. it was a fatal one, that was for sure. you tried again to push past him, but to no avail nor universe would he let you go. 

“come home with me.”

his words were determined, sincere, though there was a layer of softness to it. like unsweetened honey that poured from his lips. 

you stared at him. “what?” 

he laughed. “you heard me. let me take you home.”

you couldn’t tell if he was being serious. couldn’t tell if he was mocking you. your facial expression dropped from its intense anger. 

“don’t…” you started, feeling the heat of emotions that you’ve been burying come to the surface. your eyes swelled with tears but fuck, you promised you’d never cry over him. “don’t be mean, lando.”

his smile dropped. he knew then that you weren’t playing around, messing with him in the ways you usually had. what was this feeling inside of him? guilt? he wanted nothing more than to fix whatever he’s done. the instinct blazed a fire through his veins, igniting a deep rooted reaction that he feared only you could bring out of him. 

his hand came to cup your cheek. you flinched backward, staring at the palm of his hand through your wet lashes, but allowed his touch. 

“come here…” his hand dropped from your cheek to hold out for you to melt into. an invitation for a hug. 

you hesitated, shifting closer on your tip toes. when you were in close enough reach, he grabbed you, earning a yelp. 

his body was warm. he pulled you flush against his chest, his head coming to rest on your shoulder. his hands were wrapped firmly around your torso. was he shaking? 

he was. lando was wrought with a surplus of emotion when he saw your anger diffuse. he loved to feel all of your emotions, it reminded him that you cared about him. but when he saw it disappear, faze into an abyss of melancholy, his heart set into overdrive. he never got such a rush of adrenaline before. not from racing. not from anything else in his life.

you relaxed into him, shutting your eyes. there was a wet stain from the single tears that fell from your face on his shirt. 

but you didn’t care. he smelled so good. it was lando. your lando. 

“let me take you home.”

your nose buried into his shirt. his stubble dug into your neck. 

“your place,” you muttered. “i want to go to yours.” 

his place was always for special occasions. but to your unbeknownst knowledge, you were the only girl he’s ever taken there. the only woman he’s fucked in his bed. 

he stuttered. “yeah,” he cleared his throat. “yeah, of course we can.”

you didn’t even end up texting alexandra goodbye. you were too wrung tight with your jealousy, coined poignantly by lando himself. he was quick to catch on to your attitude shift, but you could tell he was frightened. at least you wished for it to be. 

but he was. his heart plummeted when your anger reached him. it did more than touch him, it ripped him apart, had his heart bleeding in plain sight. anyone could see it except you. it was never you who saw the love beneath his eyes. 

lando’s apartment was just how you remembered it to be. 

open space, loosely decorated. it was rather bland. 

“you kept it!” you ran your fingers over the displayed teddy bear, one that you had won for him at a fair. 

he shut the door behind you two, locking it. he let out a soft hum. “‘course i did.” 

he said it like it was obvious. he would never get rid of anything that you’d give him. you squeezed the teddy bear in your palms, but dropped it when you felt lando’s arms wrap around your waist from behind. 

his lips found your neck in an instant. 

“i missed you.” 

you tensed. back arching, you turned your head to look at him, angled perpendicular to his face burrowed into the junction of your neck and collarbones. 

“really, now?” 

he chuckled against your skin, fanning his warm breath through your body. the hairs on the back of your neck rose instinctively, choosing to hold your breath instead of express anger. though you couldn’t help the huff through your nose. 

“you’re so vicious when you’re jealous, darling.” he thought this was funny. it angered you even more, attempting to writhe out of his hold. but he didn’t relent, keeping you taught against his chest. asshole. 

“am not.” 

he tsked. 

“sure.” he continued his trail of kisses down your neck. you fell into him, head lolling back and eyes rolling. fuck, his lips were always so good. he was so good to you.��

“am not.” you said again, biting back a moan when his hands came to your forefront, parting your legs for his hands to rest between your thighs. 

“whatever you say.” 

your hips grinded against his own in retaliation which had him humming in soft praises. his fingers trailed the lining of your panties, other hand holding your hip firmly . 

“because i’m not–” the moan that was pulled from your throat was pure divinity to lando’s ears. his fingers had run up your slit, teasing your entrance. blood ran down to your body, fueling your cunt to a puffy state. your weight went lax against his hold, which he was perfectly capable of supporting you. 

“not what?” he dared you to continue, not when he had you numb in his hold already. he was clearly cocky. you could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“i’m not–” you were determined. but lando was coming back in full force. his middle finger teased you, pushing between your slick, finding the warmth of your walls. you sucked in a tight breath, feeling just how wet you’ve become. 

“so wet, baby,” he said into your ear. “what were you saying?” 

“fuck–” you sighed, whining. “i’m not jeal–” 

and then he seized the bundle of nerves around your clit, curling his middle finger inside of you. you cursed, sweat beginning to bead around your forehead. 

“mhm.” lando proved himself right when you couldn’t mutter out a sentence, becoming dumb on his fingers alone. he began a steady pace with just a singular digit, flexing in and out of you supported by your natural lubrication.  

“more–” you pleaded. it had him standing up straight, reacting to your soft pleas like he was a dog to a treat. pavlov, and all that shit. he found himself staring down at the sight of your two– his finger etching in and out of you, drenched in your sweet nectar. if he was no better than a dog, why was he about to drool? 

“yeah? you can take another?” you were rapidly nodding against the back of his shoulder, biting your lip.

“yes, please. please, lando.” you mewled, gripping at his forearms that caged you in. you never wanted to be chained down, but for pleasure like this, you felt as though you could make an exception. 

he obeyed. adding a second finger was close enough to your release, and you knew that was barreling forward at any minute. if he kept this assault of your clit up and the delicious curl of his fingers, you would melt into a puddle. 

and you knew he would. if lando started something, he would finish it. the only priority for him was to make sure you reached an orgasm. that was a promise, forever and always. 

he found himself bucking his hips into you, the sight of you weak in his arms becoming too much for him to handle. the friction between his pants and your hot cunt was too irresistible. what can he say? you were just pure bottled heaven. 

his thumb had been applying more intense pressure to your clit. your face was entirely flushed now, brightened from his attention. he was entirely to carnal to hear the noises you made. noises for him to hear, no one else. 

but his pace was slow. teasing. you felt like this was a punishment. your lip curled, face contorting with both pleasure and angst. “please, please.” you whimpered. 

“what, baby? what do you want?” smug. always so smug. 

you gripped his hand that was flexing inside of you, tightening your grip. he chuckled deeply. 

“wanna come? that what you want?” 

your head bobbed up and down, breaths coming in fast pants. “need.” you corrected him, and he thought that he would fall dead at your feet. his jaw clenched, muscles in his arms flexing, and he would give you want you needed. 

you needed him. 

that was all that he needed to hear from you. 

you turned your head to look up at him with your bloodshot eyes, dreary with lust. lust for him. your lashes fluttered against your brow line, lip quivering with a singular wish. 

he wanted nothing more to kiss you. 

“fuck.” he groaned, your thighs were drenched in your slick, a sight he thought could never be hotter. and when he curled his two fingers sweetly, your hips bucked aggressively. he knew exactly how to navigate your body, but it was always so thrilling to see you react in such a way. 

“yeah?” he smirked, “that good?” 

“so good, lan,” the nickname you used for him was not intentional. it had his dick throbbing in his pants. fuck.

your words of praise would only have him working harder. he didn’t even need to add a third finger when your stomach snapped with tension, coming loose all over his fingers. your vision blurred, legs shaking rapidly. you cried out, head lolled against his shoulder. he held you tightly, and you didn’t miss how he stroked your hip with his thumb. a soothing action. 

how he could ever find this kind of pleasure in another woman, he didn’t know. but the challenge begged– could he ever admit that? 

his fingers remained buried in your cunt whilst you rode yourself free from your high. it was impossible to look anywhere else but you. 

and when he removed them, showing you the mess you made, his popped them into his mouth. it was such a vulgar statement, but you found yourself blushing. he sucked on his fingers, letting them out with a pop, clean as a whistle. 

“heavenly.” he reaffirmed. “no girl compares.” 

you froze, still delirious from your orgasm, but it had you spinning in his hold. he was slightly blurred in your vision, but you could make out his faintly cocky expression. 

“really, huh?” 

your attitude would have him rising, cocky attitude falling away instantly. 

he gulped. “guess so.” was this it? 

a smile grew on your face. your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, grooming through the back of his head. he smiled lazily, lip catching between his top teeth. 

but things like this didn’t last forever, did they?

there was a pounding knock at the door. it had you frightened, shifting your panties back into their rightful place. your fingers fixed your appearance the best you could, whilst lando adjusted his dick in his pants. 

“open the fucking door, lando!” 

it was a woman’s voice. 

your brow raised. 

“i know you’re in there with that bitch,” the woman seethed. you could feel her anger through the door– but you could feel your own flying through the roof. bitch? you didn’t fucking think so. 

you pushed past lando who was about to open the door and he called your name, attempting to stop you. 

the door flew open. “bitch?”

the blonde girl stood there. she clearly didn’t expect you to open the door. but she didn’t back down; fine. 

“yeah. bitch.” you straighten your posture. “he told me not to worry about you–” what? “and here you are, fucking him.” 

not quite, you wanted to correct her. 

“fuck off,” he said the girl’s name. “me and you aren’t a couple.” but she rolled her eyes anyway. 

“you promised me a good fuck, lando,” she had such a venom to her bite. it had you bristle. “i didn’t think you’d stoop so low.” 

“hey, now, don’t be–” lando started, but you were done. you had enough of this night. you turned back into his apartment and grabbed your handbag, your phone, and threw on your heels. you didn’t hesitate brushing past the pair. 

lando called your name. 

but you only turned your head over your shoulder. your gaze read an entire sentence that he felt up his entire body. 

two can play this game. 

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

PAGES OF A HEART (M)

★  PAIRING: HockeyPlayer! Haechan x reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 9k

★ GENRE(S): strangers to lovers, Hate to love, Smut

☆ SUMMARY: You have been begging your campus librarian to let you join the staff for ages, but when she finally lets you on, you’re disappointed to find out that the campus’s star hockey player also joins. Can the two of you work things out after a rough start?

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Sexual intercourse, Unprotected sex, 

☆★ NOTES: Wrap it before you tap it. This was supposed to be fluff but I was weak and had to do hate to lovers. Like lol, I bet no one can guess my favorite trope! Bickering is my love language ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Leave nice comments, please <3 

Peace, escapism, and silence.

That is what you usually find when you go to the library. You love going to the library, whether it be to study, read or just get away from your normally hectic dorm. Today is different, though; today you will find all of those things and more. 

When you walk into the library, you greet Mrs. Lee as normal. She was the sole staff member of your college's small, cozy library. Mrs. Lee takes immense pride in her job and refuses to work with anyone else. She is very particular about the upkeep of the books, and honestly, you love her for that. The books stay in pristine condition thanks to her care. Even the dean has acknowledged her efforts. Ever since she took over the library, the campus has had to spend less money on maintenance, so he doesn't feel the need pressure her to hire more staff.

The only downside is that if Mrs. Lee gets sick, they’ll have to close the library since there is no one else to run it. Luckily, that hasn't happened yet, but you've made it your life mission to make sure it never does. You love going to the library, and you have been trying to convince her for months to let you join the staff. You weren't even asking for full-time, just maybe on the days she wanted to take some time off. You think you’re making progress; she gave you a “maybe” last week instead of a flat-out no.

You make your way to your favorite spot in the library before someone else gets to it. Normally, you arrive at the library as soon as it opens every day to secure your preferred spot. It's a little overkill because not many students wake up at 7 to make it to the library, but it was close to finals, so you wouldn't be surprised to see a few faces. Today you were only 5 minutes later than usual, but it seems that's all it took. 

Right there, sitting in the nook at the large window in the back corner of the library, is the prettiest man you have ever laid eyes on. The morning light shone over his tan skin like it was honey. His cute, plump lips blow at the messy hair that hangs in his eyes. He shifted his soft brown hair back with his hand before flipping to the next page in his book. 

Speechless.

You couldn't do anything but gawk at the man who sat in your designated seat. Normally, you would have passive-aggressively walked by the person, giving them an evil look, on your way to find somewhere else to sit, but you couldn't even manage that. You were expecting him to catch you with your mouth hanging open, but you caught yourself off guard with what you did next. 

He's struggling again to brush his hair out of his face, and you can't take it anymore. Your feet move before you can think and your hands are not to far behind as they dig in your bag for your spare headband. You kept one of those soft, stretchy headbands in your bag just in case you wanted to keep your hair out of your face.

In just a quick few steps, your standing in front of him, hand outstretched, offering up your headband. When he looks up at you, your breath almost catches. He is so freaking handsome. Before, it was impossible to notice, but his face and neck are covered in the most beautiful beauty marks, resembling stars. Up close, his lips appear soft, and he looks at you with the roundest doe eyes. You will not have this fine man thinking Your a weirdo So you force the air back into your lungs and speak to him.

“I'm sorry, I just thought you might want this... for your hair,” you say awkwardly. 

"Thank you; my coach keeps telling me I should cut it," he says with a soft smile, taking the headband from you. Placing the book down, he raises his hair out of his eyes with the headband. He had such a beautiful face that it should have been illegal for his hair to ever cover it up. You steal a quick peek at the book he was reading while he occupies himself with that. 

Oh Lord, you might actually be in love. He was reading a book by one of your favorite authors. The book he was reading was the final installment in a series you have been reading since high school. The book was actually just published a few months ago. You try so hard not to look like a fangirl, but you figure since he's reading it, he'll understand.

“Oh my God, is that midnight’s crossing? I just finished that book last week. The series is so good I love Vora; she's one of my favorite characters! She had such a well-written character arc in the second book.” You gush on about the book. You don't want to sound like your rambling so you cut your rant short. His soft smile makes you feel comfortable and you return it shyly.

“Yeah, I actually only just picked up the series recently. Normally, I don't have much time to read but I couldnt put the book down. I read the first three books in one month.” Clearly more interested in the conversation than you had initially assumed, he sits up a little straighter. “Vora was an alright character, but I think Theo is a more interesting character. I think that's why I'm really enjoying this book because it centers more on his backstory.” 

Theo!? Maybe your not so in love. Theo wasn't a terrible character, but he was definitely written to appeal to a male audience. Theo’s character was your typical macho man; you didn't really care that much for his story line. 

The poor guy doesn't even know his favorite character was going to get killed off in this book. One would think he would have noticed how strange it was that a minor supporting character would suddenly have a backstory in the series' final book. You had seen this pattern before, and it usually ended up in a character's death

“Theo’s alright,” you say. “He's gonna get a crazy fight sequence near the end.” 

His face lights up, and he shows you a beautiful, toothy grin. “really!? I can't wait; I've been waiting on them to give him a good fight!” 

You almost feel bad for…..”What was your name?”

“Haechan, and you?”

You tell him your name and let him get back to his book. He would soon find out that Theo's grand battle would be his last, and you did not want to stick around for that. It was a small prank in good fun. Sure, he was insanely handsome, but he stole your favorite spot. Not to mention, he thinks your favorite character is mid. You go find another corner and crack open your own book. You read for about 2 hours before you have to scurry off to your morning classes

Wood, leather, ink, and coffee

That's what you smell when you walk into the library saturday morning. You love the smell of the library. It's so earthy and cozy that you can't help but feel at home in the confines of its four walls. 

You got side tracked yesterday but today would be different. Today you were certain you would convince Mrs.Lee to let you check out books on the other side of the counter for once. You stroll in on time, no later than 7 a.m., and march your way over to her desk. 

Before you can even open your mouth to do your weekly pleading, she beats you to it.

“Yes! You can help out!” She huffs exasperatedly. “I only have so many years left to live, and each day you bother me, it's like I'm wasting my last precious moments.” 

Geez, you didn't think you got under Mrs. Lee’s skin that badly. Oh well, it paid off in the end! You were official! You were the only other staff member in the library. You felt so honored; you earned this!

“I would be more than happy, Mrs. Lee! I’ve been waiting for this for months. I won't let you down!” You beam.

Mrs. Lee gives you a warm smile and places a congratulatory hand on your shoulder. “I've been thinking about what you said, and you’re right. I can't stay cooped up in this library forever. I want to start a garden at home, but I’ve never had the time.” 

“That's great! I hope all goes well!” You encourage the older women. "So, when do I start?”

“In just a few moments, actually. I'll need to show you guys around the staff room and  how I like things organized,” she sighs, getting her pen and clipboard ready.

“You guys?” You question. You are praying you heard her incorrectly. Who else could Mrs. Lee trust enough to help run the library? Hell, as far as you knew, she only ever spoke to you! 

"Yes, we have another person joining us this morning. My grandson needs some extra credit, so I agreed to sign off on it if he helped out around here.” 

"So, where is he?” You ask

“Should be here soon; I told him I'd make his coach bench him if he were late,” she grits her teeth in annoyance. 

Like clockwork, the doors to the library open, and there he is, just a few feet away from the main desk.

“Theo!?” you say in shock

“Theo? No, That's my grandson” Mrs. Lee corrects 

“Its Haechan, and your a liar,” he corrects bitterly. 

Welp…It looks like He finished the book

“i didn't lie! He fought valiantly! ” You argue,

“He died!” he quips back, rolling his eyes as he makes his way to the counter. He slings his backpack on the surface and props himself up against it,leaning across to scowl in your face.

"Well, maybe if he—” you continue, but Mrs. Lee interrupts you.

“Children please! Goodness gracious, act your age and cut this out!” She exclaimed in disappointment. “We have far too many things to cover”

“Yes Mrs.lee”

“Yes grandma”

She gives him a stern look and he straightness himself immediately “Yes, mrs.lee”

Mrs. Lee showed you two around the library and the staff room before she went on a long-hour rant explaining exactly how she wanted the books to be organized and cared for. You listened intently and took notes. You would sneek peaks at Haechan from time to time, and he just stood there, nodding along to everything she said. No way was he listening! The stupid jock doesn't belong here! What sport did he even play? He was too handsome to be put out on a field! You were half way through cooking a plan to find his coach and giving them a piece of your mind for potentially ruining such a beautiful face, but then you realized you were supposed to be upset at him.

“are you even listening?” you whisper once Mrs Lee has her back turned. 

“Mind your business, Vora!” He says it with a lazy roll of his eyes. “You know, that's probably why you like her so much; she's so holier than thou. You must think your so righteous.” He slanders you.

Your forehead creases in aggravation. “Yeah, says the Theo simp! He's such a meathead; all he can think of is fighting, which is exactly why he ended up dead!” you spit back.

He opens his mouth to challenge you, but Mrs. Lee turns around before he can.

“Alright, I think that's everything, kids. Did I go to fast? Were you able to understand me? Maybe I should explain. It's one more time-”

“NO!” You both yell in unison.

“We got it, Mrs. Lee; seriously, I promise.” You smile confidently at her.

“ok then. Well, I'll head out early today and leave the rest up to you. I'll come back later to see how your doing.”

You try to stay positive. This wouldn't be so bad, right?

It's not that bad. If you call two hours of complete silence “not that bad,”

You did not expect your relationship with the cute boy who first caught your eye to turn out like this. You felt bad; Haechan did nothing wrong to you. His only crime was relating to a character that you were almost certain was written as satire. And trash-talk your favorite character. And stealing your favorite spot in the library that one time....ok maybe he had a few crimes under his belt, but they were nothing too serious.

Other than the egregious silence, things were going smoothly. You thought he wasn't paying attention, but you soon found out he was paying attention even more than you. You are honestly grateful that he was here; otherwise, you would have been stuck with a very angry Mrs. Lee lecturing you for two hours on not properly shelving the books. 

"Look, I'm sorry ok? This silence is driving me crazy. Can't we put this behind us?” You crack.

“You started it, princess.”

"Oh, that's really mature of you to point fingers,” you say, rolling your eyes.

“What, then is it my fault? I just wanted to enjoy my book.” Haechan glares at you.

He had a point. You two had started off fine until you started bagging on his favorite character. 

“Hey, I'm trying to do the mature thing and apologize; work with me here,” you say while organizing the checked-in books and preparing them for Haechan to shelve later. You figured he was a little better at that than you were, so you allowed him to fully take over the duty.

He looks up from his spot at the computer. He was fulfilling a request from a student to have a book ordered over from a different campus.

Haechan hits the submit button and sighs. “If we’re going to get through this, we're going to have to at least tolerate each other,” Haechan says.

“Fake besties in front of Mrs. Lee?” You suggest and hold a hand out in a truce.

He shakes your hand in return and gives you a devilish smile. “Don’t let me catch you on campus princess”

“Wouldn't count on it.” 

Sure, technically, you two didn't completely make up, but at least you made progress. At least the tension is alleviated. Sure, you could stick your nose in a book and ignore each other for your entire shift, but Mrs. Lee would kill you if she caught you slacking off. Making small talk with Haechan was the only way to make it through the day. Not to mention you enjoy watching the way he tilts his head in annoyance, tongue in cheek, when you ask him a million questions to pass the time.

“YOU GET TO SPEND TIME WITH THE LEE HAECHAN!? GOALIE OF THE NEO HOCKEY TEAM?” your roommate raves. “AND YOUR ONLY TELLING ME THIS NOW!”

“Jeez Rina I didn't think it was that big of a deal? Plus, it's only been a week,” you say. 

You were lounging around your dorm room when you explained your recent absence to your roommate. She was hounding you for details on where you had been. She assumed you were off sleeping around, but unfortunately for her and her everlasting need for drama, you've been spending time taking care of the library. You didn't think she would get that much entertainment out of it until you made the mistake of mentioning Haechan.

“Yea right! Every girl on campus has their eye on him! He's one of the star players! All he ever has time for is practice! and now apparently, library dates.” she adds.

“They are NOT dates. We can barely stand each other.” you argue. You lay on the old spring mattress and look up at the ceiling 

You didn't know he was such a big deal. Sure, he was handsome, so you assumed he was pretty popular, but this was a different ballpark. 

“I have seriously never seen him anywhere off the ice; how are you getting him all alone? Come on, tell me your secrets,” she pries. She probably thinks there's something going on, but you swear up and down there isn't.

“His grandma is making him help out around the library. Something about him needing extra credit or something? I don't know, but you're giving me a headache.” You didn't want to think about it. 

No wonder the man had such an ego. A Star hockey player? What was he even doing in the library? You had a million more questions you wanted to ask him next time you saw him

Today Haechan was forcing you to help him shelve the books. You usually just leave him to do it, but you guys had a few carts full of returned books that needed shelving. You two were towards the back of the library, finishing up the last of the books, when he decided to press your buttons. 

You see, you and Haechan were on better terms than when you first started, but you two are still at odds on occasion. There was definitely still tension as you went at each other's throats.

“Isn’t it kind of sad to spend all your time at the library? You don’t have any friends?” He says.

“This is fun for me,” you explain simply.

“This is fun?” He asks.

“What do you consider ‘fun’?” You ask. “Don’t you play sports? What's fun about chasing a ball?” You ask.

"Its hockey,” he corrects, shelving another book. 

“Oh? And somehow you can read?”

He turns to you slowly, and you can practically feel the frustration rolling off of him.

“I know your only friends are the characters in your little books, but real people have hobbies. Find one and leave me alone.” he says

You had about thirty minutes before Mrs. Lee came back to check on you two, and you had a few things you wanted to get off your chest.

“Yeah, like your real hobby isn’t getting a puck knocked into your numb skull? Tell me Haechan, what do your teammates think of you spending time with your nose stuck in a book instead of being on the ice?” 

“Go fuck Yourself”

“Only if you watch me” You grin back at him smugly.

He licks his teeth, sends you a devilish smile in disbelief, and leans down to meet your eyes.

“You are so lucky my grandma likes you.”

“Or what?” you ask, taking a teasing step back. You knew what game you wanted to play. You weren't just some bookworm; you were a cat, and Haechan was a mouse that you were dying to play with.

He takes another step towards you, almost closing the distance between you, but stops short when he hears the sharp click of heels walking towards you two.

“Smile and play nice,” he grits out with a plastic smile before turning to face his grandma.

“Oh my, nice work, you two! It looks like everything's been put up properly,” she says as she runs her hands along the spines of a few books, checking that the author's names are in alphabetical order. “You seem to be getting along just fine too! How sweet!” 

“Couldn't be any happier to work with uh…her” Haechan feigns like he forgot your name.

You know that Dipshit didn't forget your name; he just wanted to piss you off. Play nice, my ass.

"Yes, Mrs.Lee Haechan has been doing a wonderful job. I think he really deserves that extra credit.” 

He looks suspiciously at you.

“Oh yes, I think so too dear, but I wouldn't want to leave you here all day by yourself. We can still use him for a little while longer”

The realization hit him a beat later. You figured if you told his grandma how good he's doing, she would give him the extra credit already, and then he would have no reason to stick around. 

“I do wish I could tell his coach how well he's doing on his extra credit. I’ve just been so busy these days,” Mrs.Lee says.

It had taken some time, but you had finally put it together. He was doing this so he could play in the upcoming season! He must have been benched due to not passing a class; now he was stuck here doing extra credit. That explains the extra free time he has and why he's not on the ice as much.

No pass, no play.

"Well, Mrs. Lee, I can always send a message to his coach for you?” You offer.

"Well, that would be perfect, sweetheart. Here, I have some things in my office that I want you to take to him when you get a chance. Come now,” she waves you over as she shuffles excitedly to her office.

You follow behind her closely and send a quick grin over your shoulder at Haechan's stunned shock. You were playing a dangerous game with him. No one comes between him and the ice.

Did you want to end up in an all-out war with the Neo's goalie? Absolutely not, but that's exactly how the last few days have played out. Coach Choi wouldn’t be back on campus until Friday, so you had a few days to hang Haechan's fate over his head.

“Just wait until Mr. Choi finds out you called me a bitch” You would say when he was mean to you.

“You think Mr. Choi will let you play if he finds out your trying to skip out on library duty to go party?” You told him one day when he came to you asking to cover a shift for him.

If Haechan heard you say Mr. Choi one more time, he was going to lose it. First of all, it was Coach Choi, and he was sure his coach was still going to let him play; he was one of their star players. Haechan wasn't going to just sit back and let you bully him; he had a few tricks up his sleeves too.

“Grandma, I mean Mrs.Lee I brought you some fresh fruit; you can eat it with the tea I made you,” he says sweetly to his grandmother. 

“Oh, what a sweet boy! I knew working at this library would do you some good,” she gushes over him. 

She has been raving about her adorable grandson and how wonderful he was for the entire week. You knew it was all an act. He knew the most important thing to you was being Mrs. Lee's favorite.

For every “Mr.Choi” you threw at him, he would get a “sweet boy” from Mrs. Lee in return.

It didn't end there, though. Some of the Neo's are popping in more frequently now. It had been almost every day now that your favorite spot was occupied by some stupid, hocky jock with a pretty girl sitting on his lap. You had been looking forward to spending all day in your favorite nook after Mrs. Lee told you she only needed Haechan for the day. Now, as you shuffle around the tall bookcases of the library looking for a new spot, Haechan just smiles at you from over the counter.

Taking Mrs. Lee's praise was one thing, but desecrating your favorite spot with smelly hockey gear was another.

"Who stocked the books last?" Mrs. Lee calls out after doing her end-of-shift walk-through. She still didn't fully trust you and Haechan, so she would always walk through after you were done for the day.

"I just finished stocking them a few minutes ago," Haechan replies from the computer behind the counter. Somehow, he was able to run DOOM on the outdated computer system.

"I must be too lenient with you these days; you're making mistakes. I think you need more time with the book to learn their proper place!" She scolds

"What are you talking about I—"

"You shelved a book that hasn't been checked back in! I have been looking for this book all week! It was only thanks to Y/N that I found it" She finishes, waiving around a copy of Macbeth.

"I definitely checked that in!"

"No excuses! You're working the library all week by yourself if you still want that extra credit," she finalizes. All you can do is grin over her shoulder as he sends you a death glare.

Today was Friday meaning, all the fun was soon to be over. Haechan was let off easy, he was supposed to work today. Mrs. Lee wanted the library to herself today; she said she missed the smell of the books. You hope you didn't have to run into him, you had to focus on your meeting with Mr. Choi today.

It was midday when you decided to finally make your way over to the gym. You pull your jacket on, knowing it would be cold where you were going. As much as you tease him, you weren't actually going to say anything bad about Haechan to his coach. As much as you hate to admit it, you did believe he deserved that extra credit. He had been doing a really good job in the library. 

You finally reach your destination and push open the polished white doors to the gym. It was like the building was brand new; everything looked pristine. You were jealous that this was where all the school funding was going and not to the poor library, which could definitely use a remodeling. You shake the thought from your head and you walk further into the building.

In the center of the building was a huge ice rink, and surrounding it were cushined stands that almost reached the ceiling. Massive. That's all you could think of when you took in the scenery.

You snap out of your dazed state and scan the arena. You see movement on the ice and notice a blur of messy hair and tan skin effortlessly making its way across the ice. 

Haechan was running drills up and down the ice, maneuvering his puck in and out of obstacles cleanly. 

You make your way closer to him, and he's so focused that he doesn't notice you yet. Now that your up close, you can see the sweat as it glistens on his skin and drips down his neck. Man's was putting in work on that ice, and you immediately felt bad for trashing it before. This was Haechan's craft, and you could see just how much he cared for it. 

“I thought you were the goalie?” 

He skits to a stop and turns to your voice, confused. Once he realizes it's you, he squints his eyes suspiciously at you.

“Here to snitch to coach?”

“Humor me, and you’ll find out,” you smile.

He skates over to you and collides heavily with the barrier dividing you, making you jump. “I am the goalie; you know I'm the goalie.” He answers

“I thought you could only stay in the net, though?” You ask curiously 

"Technically, I can play outside of my net; I just can't cross the center line. "It would be stupid of me to play to far from the goal. These exercises are just for practice.”

"Where is everyone else?”

“Teams pissed I'm benched, so they won't play the ice with me until I'm officially back in the game,” he shrugs, but they can help him torment you throughout the week? Some team he's got.

"I don't understand men," you say, rolling your eyes.

“Its called tough love babe, you get it,” he teases. You fake punch him through the plexiglass, and he flinches jokingly. 

“You wish,” you mumble.

A comfortable silence settles as you just stare at each other with hesitant smiles gracing your lips, replacing the usual scowls.

“Why not help me out?”He asks

“With what?”

“Practice with me.”

“You want me?  on ice? I don't think so,” you laugh.

"Oh come on, Ice Princess afraid of a little cold? What happened to all that bite you had before? Afraid you'll lose some of the few brain cells you have?”

Oh he was so on.

He takes you into the storage room and helps you fit some spare skates onto your feet. He shoves a hockey stick into your arms and helps you back onto the ice. 

Oh it was so over

You felt ridiculous. You had no idea how to hold the hockey stick and you could barely stand on the ice. You figured Haechan must be getting a kick out of watching you struggle, but once you look up from watching your every step, you find nothing but worry in his eyes.

“Be careful not to fall; it's easy to bruise on the ice,” he warns gently as he skates circles around you, literally and hypothetically.

“I don't need your help; I can figure it out on my own,” you grumble And take a brave step forward. 

You knew the basics of ice skating, but that was just it; you knew it. Actually, putting it into action was a lot harder than you thought. You knew you were supposed to bend your knees, make a V shape with your feet, and lean forward slightly. That was the easy part, but actually moving? Not computing. 

You hear a soft chuckle behind you, and you throw a glare over your shoulder. 

“Let me help you,” Haechan laughs lightheartedly “can't help me practice if you can't skate dummy.” 

"This was your idea" You remind him

He glides over to you and hovers his hand on the middle of your back. Not fully touching you, but close enough, you know that he's there if you fall. You feel a bit more confident with him there, and you take your first step. You stumble immediately, but he's right there to catch you. He helps you right yourself and moves to skate in front of you. He grabs your hands and holds them steadily.

“The issue is that your taking steps; don't try to walk on the ice; push off and glide,” he explains. 

You follow his lead as he skates backwards. You stumble a few more times but your starting to find the rhythm to it. You can't help but smile excitedly at him. When you try to jump with joy, you immediately slip and fall. You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the impact of the cold, wet ice, but instead collide with a firm chest. You had fallen forward into Haechan's arms, and when you lifted your head up, you found yourself a breath away from his face. You can literally see your breath mingling in the cold air of the rink.

Time is frozen, and neither of you moves as you watch each other, waiting for the other to make a move. You lick your lips, and you can feel his grasp on your waist tighten at the sight.  

“Can I ki-”

SLAM. The sound of a door echoes through the building as footsteps follow. You and Haechan part immediately, and you turned towards the source of the noise.

It was Mr. Choi, the exact reason you were here in the first place. It looked like he was leaving for the day. You really needed to talk to him and give him the things Mrs. Lee wanted you to.

“Oh! Mr. Choi, excuse me!” You call out to him and shuffle as best you can across the ice. Before you can even stumble, you feel an arm encircle your waist as they guide you across the ice, smoothly pulling you along. 

 You finally make it off the ice and waddle towards him. awkwardly hanging on to the  gaurd rail with the skates still on your feet. 

“Mr.choi Just. A moment.”

He finally turns to look at you and raises an eyebrow

“Mrs. Lee sent me; she wanted to go over Haechan’s progress with the extra credit but she's been too busy to come here herself,” you explain, a little out of breath.

The coach takes one look at your exhausted form and then at haechan before letting out a sigh.

“Follow me to my office,” he says, walking back the way he came.

You make your way to the nearest bench and down. You rid yourself of the deadly contraption on your feet. You grab your things and send Haechan a final smile. His eyes are glued to you as he circles the ice watching as you following Mr. Choi. You enter through the door you saw him walk through; it seems like the office is located in the locker room. You find the coach seated in his office, near the back of the locker room. As much as Haechan bothered you, he deserved his praise. You relay your report and don’t forget to give him the things Mrs. Lee had for him. 

“I'm happy to hear he's not causing any trouble for you”

“Of course not”

"please save me TT," you cry from inside.

"Well, keep me updated if anything changes; I know he can be a handful sometimes”

You smile at the comment and nod “I'll see you around, Mr.Choi.”

“Just call me Coach.” He corrects.

“Right,” you smile.

You stroll out and look over at the ice to find Haechan running his exercises again. He looks at you expectantly as he skates the ice skillfully.

“You'll find out soon,” you say, answering his silent question.

You heard the door open and close again, and Coach Choi appeared to have followed closely behind. Haechan gets called over, and you take this as your cue to leave the two alone. Hopefully he remembers your kindness and you can finally call a truce on this petty war.

Over next few days, things have been going great between you two. You were actually starting to enjoy Haechan's company. After giving good feedback to his coach, he decided you weren’t too bad. The time spent in the library together is filled with small laughs and light jokes at first, but as you two finally break from your apprehensive shell, you find yourselves completely opening up and letting your guard down.

Outside of the library, he's been teaching you how to skate, and you have been seeing more and more progress. You two even started buddy reading. This is how it should have been from the beginning. You didn't realize how much you wanted to get close to him until you finally did. 

You were currently on the rink with Haechan as you skated alongside him. You would follow behind him as he practiced and you would read aloud for him. Recently, he hadn't had time to read. His coach was pushing him to practice more as the season approached, so you read for him to ensure he didn't fall behind

You finish off a chapter and close the book. “how are we feeling about this chapter” 

“Too short; I feel like not much happened in this chapter,” he comments.

“I could read another if you like?” 

“Nah, I'm almost done,” he says as he comes to a stop to catch his breath. “lets wrap up”

You nod and make your way off the ice.

You busy yourself with untying your skates and haechan sits down next to you to untie his.

“when I'm back on the ice, are you gonna come watch me play?” he asks

Your wanted to answer right away but you find your mind wandering back to your conversation with your roommate all those weeks ago. Haechan was the hotshot player, who knew what kind of rumors would spread if you came to the game to support him

“I'm not really a hockey fan,” you say. It was true; you don't really follow sports.

“you wouldn't be my fan?” he teases

“especially not yours,” you joke back

“Seriously, it would mean a lot to me”

“when did you start caring about being seen with me?”

“since you stopped being annoying,”

Point taken.

“I'll think about it,” you say before you stand. Your make your way out and call over your shoulder, “don't fall behind on your chapters; I won't be able to read to you once they take you off the bench”

Mrs. Lee had finally concluded his extra credit, and once it was reported to his professor, his grade was updated, and he was good to play again. Of course, Mrs. Lee extended him the opportunity to continue working at the library, and when Haechan says he'll make time to stop by and see you, you believe him.

That was a mistake

It was stupid of you to think Haechan actually cared about spending time with you in the library. Once he was cleared to play, he put all his time back on the ice. 

If you crossed paths on campus, he would smile and wave, but there was nothing much outside of that. So what was all this for? Were you just there to help him kill time until he was back with his beloved team? You admit you started off really rocky, so you wouldn't put it past him, but lately you felt as though you really grew as friends. 

You knew how much the sport meant to him, but you couldn’t stop the hurt that followed. You were only human after all, and humans made stupid decisions.

It was finally the night of the first game of the season, and you sat in the stands as you watched the game unfold. Maybe Haechan was right to be cocky; he was really good at defending. You couldn't take your eyes off of him. The away team was down 15 points, and the game was coming to an end. If the team was good enough, they might have been able to turn the tables in the last quarter, but that doesn't happen as Haechan blocks almost every shot they attempt. He was quick and used his entire body to block his opponents shots. You had never seen him so focused before.

The buzzer sounds, and the crowd cheers. You come down the stands to give your congratulations. Haechan spots you as you approach and gives you a smile, opening his arms for a hug.

You weren't here for him.

You walk right past him and hug his teammate, Jeno. You had been getting closer with Jeno over the last few weeks. You had checked out a book for him one day and even helped him study it for his history class. You two have been talking ever since. Haechan's smile fell immediately. You wish you could have captured the look on his face. 

“Are you coming over to celebrate?” Jeno asks

“Of course I'll wait for you, ok?” You say and hug him tighter.

Haechan remains motionless, his face full of confusion and anger.

Jeno leaves you and heads back into the locker room.

Most of the team had started to head back already, and someone clapped a hand over Haechan's shoulder, dragging him back to the locker room and rambling in his ear about the amazing plays from that night's game. Haechan can't seem to pay attention, focusing solely on you and the sly smile that graces your lips.

You were honestly impressed by how quickly Haechan changed clothes. He was only in the locker room for about 5 minutes, and when he storms over to you, you can tell he skipped the shower.

“Jeno? Really? You're better than that,” he says, tongue in cheek. 

“Don't start; he's actually really sweet. What do you even care? You won the game, right? That's all you care about.” 

“I see what this is,” he says with a smile “your upset that I didn't make time for you and our little book dates, is that it?” 

“They were not dates,” you correct him 

“Could have fooled me. I see the way you watch me instead of the pages,” he counters

“Oh my god, you're so full of yourself." You say but don't deny his claims. "I thought we were past this.”

“You’re one to talk; your literally using Jeno to get back at me!”

“How can I get back at you if you don't like me? Why do you care so much?” You argue. “Admit it, you have a thing for me” 

He takes a step closer, invading on your personal space, and you can tell by the expression in his eye that he was about to say something devious, but Jeno interrupts you, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"Nu-uh, she's mine tonight; back off,” Jeno jokes, whisking you away from the tension you and Haechan created. As you walk away with Jeno, you have a chance to look over your shoulder and catch Haechan's eyes. He gives you a look, but you're unsure what it reads as? You’re too far away to see, but it looks like hurt?

Jeno drives you back to his place; apparently,  the party was at the grand house that most of the team stays in. Most of the team stays together while others live on their own, but all the celebratory parties happen at the big house. You wonder if Haechan stayed here too? You shake the thought from your head. You would not think about him tonight; you had a point to prove.

Once you make it to the house, you notice most of the team is still setting up and getting ready. A few people were early, and they were mostly chatting out back on the deck. You follow Jeno up to his room and he changes into something more comfortable than the practice clothes he had thrown on after the game. You give your opinions on a few of the shirts he tries on and you find that its really easy to talk to him. He was super laid back and you could see yourself becoming really good friends with him.

“You and Haechan, huh?” He asks as he picks over a few chains to match his outfit.

“No, its not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes “Try that gold one on,” You point to the heavy chain sitting on his dresser. 

“The whole team knows something is up. You even practice with him sometimes.” Jeno says as he clips the chain behind his neck and adjusts it in a mirror. 

Your lying on his bed as you absent-mindedly scroll through your phone. "Hmm, not that one. I think silver would match better actually.” You avoid being put on the spot.

“Make up your mind,” Jeno groans, taking the chain off “I know your only here with me to make him jealous, so if you want my help, you could at least be honest.”

You look over his outfit again and give him a flirty smile “Who says I'm not? You look good. Maybe I want to try you?” 

He smirks and crawls over to you on the bed. He pins you down under him and kisses your neck. “You’re not fooling anyone, but who says we can't have a little fun” He teases and caresses your sides. You think he's going to take it farther, but he parts from you and goes back to his closet to find his shoes.

“Just kidding doll, he's my teammate. Even though you can’t see it, I do. He likes you,” he concludes.

You watch him put on his shoes and sigh. Haechan was ruining your chances of getting good dick now too? “You still gonna help me get back at him, right?” you ask.

“Oh definitely, he deserves a little tormenting,” Jeno says as he finishes putting together his outfit “He ate my leftover Kimchi Jjigae, so he's got it coming.”

You laugh and haul yourself from his sheets, joining his side as you both walk down to the party.

When you both enter the stairway, the music hits you, and you can practically feel the bass of the music shake your bones. Any more small talk was clearly out of the question, and you were grateful. You were not in the mood for any of Jeno's twenty-one questions regarding your feelings for Haechan. You doubted you would hear him even if he spoke right into your ear. He leads you to the main floor, and the house is packed. While he waves and greets a few of his friends, you rake your eyes across the crowd to see if you can find Haechan. There has been no sight of him so far. 

You make your way to the kitchen and find the drinks. You still hated the way hard  liquor burns as it goes down and settles for a mixed drink. You stick close to Jeno, hoping Haechan would find you hanging off his teammates shoulders, but you still haven't seen him.

It wasn't until about an hour into the party that you saw him. Honestly, after your second drink, you had already forgotten you were even looking for him as you began to have genuine fun with Jeno. He held you close as you danced on the floor. Although you were both past tipsy, you were not quite drunk. Jeno's chest was against your back as you rocked back and forth to the beat, his head nestled in your neck. 

Haechan had just come down the stairs; you figured he must have been hiding away in his room until this point. He locks eyes with you as your figure becomes entwined with Jeno's. Jeno peppers a few kisses against your skin, and you can practically see Haechan's breath catch in his throat as his face heats up in anger.

You smile in victory and you think he's seconds away from dragging you off the floor but he surprises you. He pushes through the crowd, but he doesn't come toward you at all. He angrily makes his way through the front door, slamming it behind him. 

You pull away from Jeno’s embrace, suddenly ashamed. "I don't think this is working” 

Jeno can't hear anything your saying, so he just screams, “HUH? WHAT?” loudly in your face. 

“I”M LEAVING,” you try to communicate through gestures.

“SHOULD I GO WITH YOU?” he asks, finally able to understand you

“NO IM FINE,” you make an x motion with your arms to tell him no and you point behind you, “GOTTA GO, BYE”  

You leave him in the crowd, and you figure he'll be okay because, when you turn around to spare him one last look, some other girl was quick to take your spot. 

You rush through the bodies of people and make it outside. There were a few people leaning against cars or huddled in groups chatting with friends, but they paid you no mind as you walked down the sidewalk, following a familiar figure that was a few meters ahead of you. 

He had his hands shoved deep in his pockets as he stormed ahead. No matter how much you pleaded for him to slow down, he kept walking. You had no idea where he was going until you spotted an old, run-down building. He was going to the library.

Once he got to the doors, he used his spare key to unlock it and rush inside. You follow after, finally being able to catch up

“Hey! Haechan, wait” You grab his arm, and he finally turns towards you.

“What! Isn't this what you wanted? To piss me off?” He asks in exasperation, his chest heaving in anger.

“Can we just be honest then! Why are you upset?” You challenge. 

“BECAUSE I LIKE YOU!” He yells in frustration, “I've liked you since the day you gave me your headband. I could have done anything else for extra credit You know why I chose the library? Because I knew you would be here!”

“You completely ditched me after!”

“I was busy!”

“Your insufferable is what you are!’

“You think you know it all, don't you!” 

"Well, I do!” You yell, “I know if you liked me, you should have acted like it!”

“Oh yea!?”

“Yea!”

With his lips pressed hungrily against yours, you found it impossible to think at all. Not with the way he pulled you closer to taste more of you. You could hardly keep up. One minute you’re at each other's throats, and the next his tongue is down yours.

He pushes you back against a bookshelf, knocking a few copies from their spot, and you pay them no mind as they clatter to the floor. You would have a lot to clean up afterwards.

“So annoying,” he mutters against your lips as he deepens the kiss.

You still can't keep up. All you can think about is the way his hands feel as they travel across the skin of your stomach. They were cool from the midnight air and you shivered under his touch. He backs away to let you catch his breath.

“Tell me you want it,” he says, a hair's breadth away from your neck. He gave you your moment to back out, to go back to whatever you guys were before, but you didn't take it.

“I need you, please,” you mutter as you bring your hands back up to his hair and pull him down for another kiss. 

You couldn't take another interruption; you needed all of him, and if you had to wait another second, you'd explode. He tried to pull away again for air, but you chased his lips, biting them in retaliation, and he whined.

“Not so tough now, are you” you joke, a bit out of breath.

He narrows his eyes and rests his hand against your neck “You need to be quiet; we’re in a library.” He tightens the hold on your neck and any rebuttal you had dies in your throat “another word and I'll leave you to finish by yourself and I don't think Edgar Allen Poe could turn you on more than I can” 

You raise an eyebrow and open your mouth to rasp out a response, but he has you facing the bookshelf, manhandling you before you can speak.

“Do not test me,” he says.

He has you pinned up against the shelves and undresses you. You want to complain about the amount of clothing he was wearing, but remind yourself of his earlier threat.

The library is dark and quiet; no one would be able to see your bodies dance in the dark. Your senses are heightened and they are all zeroed in on haechan. The warmth of his hands as they explore your body and tease you and the soft sounds that escape his mouth as he grinds his hips against your ass. 

For a second, you don't feel him pressing up against you anymore, and your protests die on your tongue as you feel him lick into your heat from behind. He’s grabbing at your cheeks, massaging them as he spreads them to make room for his face. He's so messy, and you can't help but blush at the amount of noise he's making. Your legs begin to shake as he sucks heavily on your clit. He pulls back and spits on your cunt, adding to the slickness, before inserting his fingers. As many days as you had worked with him, you didn't think it would ever end with him pushing you up against the bookcases and eating you out from the back. Just a few moments ago, he couldn't stand you; now he was on his knees, like he could worship your pussy for a lifetime. You would not be able to look at this library the same way again.

You could feel yourself getting closer, but you'd cry if you had to come around his fingers pathetically rather than wrap around his thick cock. You thread your fingers through his hair and grab hold. You almost don’t have the heart to pull him away, but you eventually find the strength. You pull him up from his knees and into another kiss, and you can instantly taste yourself coated on his tongue. 

“Fuck me already.” you say against his lips.

He groans and gets to work on taking off his pants. He doesn't part from you for even a second, and the death grip he has on your hips tells you he can barely keep it together. He slips inside and you both whimper at the feeling. He fucks you as intimately as someone can press up against a bookshelf in the middle of a library. All you can do is just grip the shelf. You could hardly keep yourself up after coming so close to the edge. 

He finally breaks the kiss, and you gasp for air. The lightheaded feeling makes you tighten around him. He's peppering kisses around your neck and down your back. 

“So good, babe;  you feel so good,” he mumbles. “We could have been doing this from the start but you just wanted to be a brat” He nips at your skin and lands a slap against your bare ass. 

“But all you needed was some dick. Now your so good for me, right baby,” he slows his thrusts down teasingly and presses another kiss to your temple.

His strokes are so deep and calculated you almost start crying. He doesn't like your lack of response so he snakes a hand in front of you and grabs onto your neck. “Answer me baby,” he threatens as he tightens his grip on your throat. His hips pick up at a brutal speed, and he's fucking you so hard that the bookshelf is shaking, causing more books to topple off.

“Yes! All yours! I'm your good girl” you really do cry this time. 

Haechan groans at the sight of the fresh tears that fall down your cheeks. He kisses them away, and he pulls your hips back to meet his thrust, driving deeper into your greedy hole. Your head is up in the clouds, and all you can make out is him whining “so good” and “just like that” into the crook of your neck. 

You cum hard and gush out all over his length. He thrusts into you a few more times before he finally releases deep inside. Your legs are shaking and you have no idea how your going to make it home. 

He pulls out of you and watches as his cum drips out of you. He did not feel like scrubbing his cum from the library floor, so he did the next best thing. He found his way down to his knees again and cleaned you up. You weakly push at his head, and you slump against the bookshelf. 

Haechan has to pull himself away before things get out of hand again. He helps you put your clothes back on and sits you on a nearby bench as he cleans up the mess you two made. He picks up the books and puts them back on their respective shelf.

“Mrs. Lee would kill us if she found out”

“Do not bring up my grandma right now” Haechan shudders at the thought in disgust.

Silence falls over you two as he continues to work. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier” you say, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, like he wasn't fucking the life out of you two minutes ago.

“Yes, I’m sorry for not being upfront with you. It was just so hard; it seemed like we  were always fighting,” he says as he shelves a copy of Huckleberry Finn.

“I'm sorry for the way I acted before,” you sigh “Can we start over...again...for real this time” you laugh.

Haechan finishes rearranging the books and sits next to you on the bench.

“Of course,” and he kisses you. 

This kiss was different from earlier; this one meant something and wasn't lust-filled like the other. This kiss was filled with secret promises and new adventures. When he pulled away and looked him in the eye, you knew things were going to be different.

[nouvellevqgue]

✦ FULL OF FAN BEHAVIOR, M. VERSTAPPEN

everybody knows that this account is full of max. from his first win to now, from his most random things to his glory time, she's always there to post his pictures. they only know her as his friend and nothing more, but who is she actually?

req: Saw your post for smau requests, maybe a Max Verstappen where people don't realise his girlfriends account is you know her official verified account. Because practically every single post is about Max. Full on fan behaviour, in the sense she was his first fan as his childhood friend, she has been there supporting him since they were kids, and now they're adults and together, but some habits doesn't change.

(bonus if the posts makes people question why she choose Max as her mans.)

2016 - 2018

verstappenight

liked by maxverstappen33, and 1,942 others

verstappenight WOOOO P1🏆🏁 congratulations to you maximus, i'm soo proud of you!

view all 125 comments

maxverstappen33 I won't say anything about the name Maximus, but thank you 😄

danielricciardo Well deserved! 👍🙌

username look how young he is

username I love a supportive fan ^^ Plz post more of this man.

   ⤷ yourusername glad to be on your service, ma'am

username how old is he?

username He's so happy, he turns red.

username I usually don't trust redbull after Sebastian, but he might be my new exception🤷‍♀️

verstappenight

liked by danielricciardo, and 1,230 others

verstappenight that eyes glint with mischief. #throwbackthursday

view all 65 comments

maxverstappen33 Oh my god, I thought I trusted you by taking this years ago

   ⤷ yourusername never trust anyone

username The half smile😂

username He's been pulling the red string with Red Bull from a long time ago, and look at the hat. I bet it's not a coincidence.

username how is she even managed to get this out? this looks so ancient

   ⤷ username It's not ancient, it's probably old, but not ancient.

danielricciardo He looks like he's planning to steal one of the cars steering wheel

   ⤷ username exactly! 😂😂

username if it's a throwback, how old is this pic then?

   ⤷ username i mean he looks way younger than him on her recent post, so just figure it.

   ⤷ username he always looks younger

verstappenight

liked by victoriaverstappen, and 963 others

verstappenight how is it feel to have a duplicates?

view all 72 comments

maxverstappen33 Why are you taking the second one?

   ⤷ verstappenight and why are YOU posing to that one?

username Why is he looks younger and younger each time?

   ⤷ verstappenight i don't know, but i definitely recommend him to have a slug treatment for anti aging.

   ⤷ username username it's him in torro rosso, so that's why he looks more like a teenager.

username it's not even thursday yet, but i had a bad feeling for this week's throwback thursday.

verstappenight

liked by carlossainz55, and 3,573 others

verstappenight boo! happy halloween #throwbackthursday

view all 269 comments

username what did i say, my feelings are never lying

carlossainz55 Got you! 😆🤣

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 If I got a heart attack next week, it'll be completely your fault

landonorris is halloween on 29 or 30?

   ⤷ username depends on what region you're in, i guess?

   ⤷ landonorris don't guess, answer.

maxverstappen1 And how are you even managed to take this?? Seriously. yourusername

username I can't believe it's actually Carlos who did this

   ⤷ username Yeah, but I think this is so Carlos-like behavior.

username i would do that face too if someone dressed as scream beside me

username Who is running this fanpage?

username why are you liking him so much?

   ⤷ yourusername because he is so nice, cool, and he looks like sid from ice age which is my favorite character.

   ⤷ danielricciardo we got a whole stack of characters here: first we got maximus the horse from tangled, sid from ice age, and then what? jimmy neutron?

username 😂😂😂ajajaja mira su cara!

verstappenight

liked by redbullracing, and 3,782 others

verstappenight found this on twitter and now i can't stop laughing! can't wait to send this to my family group.

view all 90 comments

maxverstappen1 I really can't trust you with my digital footprint 🤦🏻‍♂️

   ⤷ verstappenight i found this on twitter alright, it's not taken by me!

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 Still.

   ⤷ carlossainz55 Ooh, someone's upset...

username who is this person behind this account?

username Why is his reaction is always looking so hilarious

username Max: 😦

username i feel him

username you sure it's not throwback thursday?

MID 2023

verstappenight

liked by charles_leclerc, and 97,182 others

verstappenight i changed throwback thursday with this questionable sense of max's fashion. hope that's alright.

photo credit via verstauri on twitter.

view all 348 comments

username NOOOOOOOOOOOO

username #bringbackthrowbackthursday

charles_leclerc If you get rid of throwback Thursday, how am I going to tease him?

   ⤷ verstappenight by searching it on pinterest🤷🏻‍♀️

username Is that real or photoshopped?

username Okay, I know throwback thursday is made a long time ago since 2015 but man I really miss it sm... 💔💔

   ⤷ verstappenight same, but some people don't need that old max (except for charles). we need the new one because life goes on -max via my message

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't remember saying it

   ⤷ verstappenight shut up

username oh cmon i know charles want it because he's in love with max

   ⤷ username should i be surprised?

   ⤷ username i mean if there's no throwback thursday, who's going to tease him with his past when she's not there

   ⤷ username Daniel and Lando or Y/n could...

   ⤷ username oh come on, i don't even know who's the person behind this account anyway, for EIGHT YEARS

   ⤷ username As if you've never heard of twitter, just search her username and you'll see her REAL face.

THE TWEET SHE MEANT:

verstappenight

liked by schecoperez, and 113,809 others

verstappenight guess which one is the real one

view all 462 comments

schecoperez The first one of course!😂🤣

username since when did checos ass becoming that juicy

   ⤷ username since he listened to daddy yankee's song on repeat

   ⤷ danielricciardo His actual morning routine:

username the first one because what else would he be doing if not eating omelette and seeing checo's ass in the morning

   ⤷ username even checo himself agrees

username I'm glad that she still post here, even though there's no throwback thursday anymore😞😔

   ⤷ username but i guess even though we did not have throwback thursday anymore, we still have this crack post of him😄

TWITTER, 3 DAYS AFTER THE COMMENTS ON VERSTAPPENIGHT'S DADDY POST:

maxverstappen1 added a photo to their story! 2h

ON THE OTHER HAND, HER ACTUAL IG:

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1 and 82,147 others

yourusername good moooorniiiiinggggg from my room<3

view all 97 comments

username Thank God it's not private

username damn yall work faster than the fbi

username Anyone come here from twitter?

username Omg I've never realized max pulled this hottie ever since they were born

username THIS IS VERSTAPPENIGHT ADMIN?????

   ⤷ username eight years of waiting is finally getting payed off..

username why are you even choosing max to be your man when there's charles or daniel who's sexier

   ⤷ yourusername sometimes i don't need looks to see to be having someone like max. he's my best friend first, and i'm glad i choose him right the first place.

   ⤷ username Oh that's sweet...

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I love you too, My biggest fan.

   ⤷ username I LOVE YOU TOO??????💔💔

   ⤷ username oh my god max is having a REAL relationship with a fan account admin

   ⤷ username AWOOP🚨🚔 THEIR MEDIUM LAUNCH????

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, and 278,903 others

yourusername nobody knows that this phone addict is once my best friend. happy birthday maximus! 🥳🤍

view all 486 comments

landonorris happy birthday facebook dad.

maxverstappen1 I once again not going to take the Maximus name. It makes me feel like a horse from Rapunzel.

   ⤷ yourusername wait, you've watch tangled before?

danielricciardo Happy birthday, Big boy.

redbullracing Happy birthday to our number one champion! 🥳🥳

username awww baby maxiee🥺🥺🥺

lewishamilton Happy birthday, mate!

carlossainz55 To be honest, your real account is sometimes still kinda feels like your other one.

   ⤷ yourusername force of habit probably?

   ⤷ carlossainz55 No, it's because you're acting like Max's biggest fan everywhere.

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 That's probably because she is.

   ⤷ yourusername wipe that smug smile off your face while you're typing

username He looks the same weirdly or not

username AHA I FOUND YOU VERSTAPPENIGHT ADMIN

username i love how she just hanging to his arm like they're been a couple since god knows how long

username SHE'S SOO LUCKYYY

username i'm gonna melt

username i feel like it's a hard launch, but she have been doing this for a long time ago

sophiekumpen 🥳🥳🥳

maxverstappen1

liked by zedd, and 627,834 others

maxverstappen1 How was I going to get her bad side if she's there and looking so beautifully?

👤: yourusername, verstappenight

view all 446 comments

landonorris poetic. remember your other girlfriend's waiting

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I don't remember having another one?

   ⤷ charles_leclerc How are you even forget about us?

yourusername awww i can't believe you tag the fan account one too!! i love you so much!!!

   ⤷ maxverstappen1 I love you too❤️

username #justiceforcharles #lestappenforever

username SHE'S SOOOO CUTE no wonder max pulled her

victoriaverstappen I didn't know you pulled this cutie

   ⤷ danielricciardo Me too until I found out yesterday at the club

username poetic max is going to be the end of me

username I really had a bad feelings of he becoming poetic and gets all over like this

username Okay, this is max's hard launch. And now I'm waiting for Y/n's

   ⤷ username i thought she already doing it for so many times at verstappenight? 😏🤭

yourusername

liked by redbullracing, and 579,420 others

yourusername 💌

📸: landonorris

view all 461 comments

username PARENTS CONFIRMED???

username YESS (adopt me pls)

username is verstappenight still going to be there? let's see for the next two days...

username verstappenight nation how do we feel after this? (we can get a new max pic daily)

username i'm gonna thank lando forever for this

username With the bouquet, the dim light, and the black and white + sepia filters. What are they doin that night?

username AWWW ROMANTIC😍😍

danielricciardo They left Charles in the back that night

⤷ landonorris aww poor him. but anyway...

username how are you converting from lestappen to this one so fast?

TAGLIST @queenofmanydreams @muglermami @4limq @avengers-assemble123456 @cabbyhabs @meowtastick @4mula-1 @miarabanana @amel1ee @dinosushilun1 @auggieblogs @namgification