#had a friend tell me I’m trying to be famous and I was like ??? I don’t think wanting people to see my art or read my writing is the same

[pbelfz]

Two to One | 15 |

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader x Midoriya Chapter Title: Spilled Milk Chapter 14 | Chapter 16 Story Masterlist Summary: You are a simple college girl working at a cheap, back alley café! The top heroes, Deku and Ground Zero, visit your work in hopes of ordering coffee, but they pick something else up instead. You begin an interesting relationship with the pair, while slowly becoming aware of certain underhanded tactics they are using. Idolization isn't always that bad… Right?

WARNINGS: gaslighting, domestic violence, alcohol

“You’re WHAT?!”

Hana gaped back at (Y/n), trying to ensure she heard her correctly. (Y/n) smiled sadly at Hana.

“I just… got an opportunity elsewhere…,” she attempted to be vague. Hana didn’t look convinced.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans.”

(Y/n) gawked. “No–! And even if I was…,” she made a face at Hana. Hana tutted.

“Please don’t tell me you’re starting an Only Fans without me,” she repeated, now laughing. The morning rush shift had slowed down to a nonexistent teeter. (Y/n) smiled at Hana’s comment as she cleaned one of the tables in the dining area of the quaint restaurant. Hana groaned, leaning back with her elbows on the countertop, her head tilting toward the ceiling.

“What am I gonna do without you here?!” Hana groaned at her best friend. (Y/n) announced that she put her two weeks in yesterday when Hana was off. Their manager flipped her shit, but Hana argued that she had it coming and that (Y/n) quitting should be the least of her worries. (Y/n) shrugged.

“I dunno. I’ll still stop by for some lattes. Give you guys some business with my big Only Fans money.”

Hana shook her head. “I’m gonna put my two weeks in tomorrow. Or I might just dip after today and not come back.” Hana’s curls bounced as she turned to check to make sure their manager was in the café backroom. Deep in the café backroom.

“You should stay for the chance of running into Shoto,” (Y/n) recommended, leaning on her elbows on the cashier counter. Katsuki and Izuku had been frequenting their café much more often lately, and she and Hana kid that it was only a matter of time before word of Sato’s traveled to Pro Hero Shoto. However, Hana still shook her head.

“What do you mean? We’re married. I see him every night. Work is my chance to get away from him!” She gave (Y/n) a coy smile. (Y/n) rolled her eyes, grinning, smacking Hana’s arm with a small hand towel.

“Shut up!”

Izuku and Katsuki threw themselves headfirst into their work, and (Y/n) shouldn’t have been surprised. It’s not like she expected things to change after she finally had sex, but she couldn’t help but feel as though the experience wasn’t as life-changing as it was all made out to be.

What was that feeling? That persistent nudging tug in the depths of her mind and gut, telling her that something more should be happening now, either between her, Izuku, and Katsuki or in her life? Disappointment? She lost her virginity to one of the most famous pro heroes in Japan, and the experience wasn’t anything less than euphoric. What was there to be disappointed about?

Maybe how neither Izuku nor Katsuki recognized (Y/n)’s perceived loss of innocence. (Y/n) considered bitterly whether there was even any innocence to ‘lose’, and why would having sex make her any less innocent? Was she dirty now? No, no. That’s not it. (Y/n) didn’t expect the heroes to celebrate or anything of that nature. That’d be rather disturbing. What was she expecting, though? Nothing ultimately changed after the intercourse. Not herself, not really. Not Katsuki. Not Izuku. What the hell even was virginity?

Did she want them to change? What more did she want to come from that experience?

“Izuku?” She called, sitting on the couch one night. It was late; Izuku had just gotten home from a 16-hour shift. (Y/n) never really knew if he and Katsuki chose to work that long willingly – their hours seemed flexible – but she did notice that Katsuki seemed to know his limits and take scheduled breaks throughout the day. She couldn’t say the same about Izuku.

“Yeah?” Izuku replied half-heartedly. He obviously didn’t want to speak to anybody right now. He was digging through the fridge, looking for leftovers to wolf down. (Y/n) was convinced that Katsuki was the only reason why Izuku remembered to even eat and shower or even take care of himself at all. Katsuki’s footsteps could be heard upstairs; he must’ve just gotten out of the shower himself.

“What’s virginity?” (Y/n) blurted obtusely.

The shuffling of plastic containers and cartons in the fridge stopped. Izuku stood upright.

“What?”          

He sounded incredulous. (Y/n) didn’t want to look at him because she was so ashamed of her question.

“What’s virginity?” She repeated, a little louder and snappier, in case he didn’t hear her. Izuku looked at the back of her head with a wild stare.

“(Y/n), I’m not–,“ Izuku was not in the mood for whatever she was talking about.

“And what’s the point of it?” (Y/n) continued. Izuku dragged a hand down his face.

“I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for,” he was blunt, more blunt than he cared to be. He was exhausted. He just wanted to eat something, go to bed and turn the world off, not deal with whatever emotional turmoil (Y/n) was feeling.

“I just… don’t feel any different,” (Y/n) pondered aloud, not caring if Izuku wanted to talk or not.

She heard the fridge door shut and footsteps approach. “Uh, good?” Izuku spoke with a mouth full of chicken, which he didn’t even bother to heat up. “It’d be weird if you felt different after having sex?” Izuku stared down at her oddly. (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

“That’s not what I mean. I mean there’s, like…,” she made vague gestures with her hands. “It’s like nothing even happened.”

Izuku was tired, and when Izuku was tired, it was like talking to a brick wall. He was just as stubborn as Katsuki, if not more. This conversation was going nowhere. He swallowed the food he was chewing and shook his head, shrugging.

“I don’t know what to say.”

(Y/n) sighed, frustrated. She got off the couch and stormed up the stairs. “Ugh. Forget it.”

Izuku made his way over to claim the spot on the couch she left, continuing to eat his food.

Okay. (Y/n) can admit that she was being a little fussy. She blew by Katsuki, who was bent over in the middle of the hall replacing his bath items into the closet, and retreated into the bedroom.

Katsuki’s hair was still damp from his shower. He blinked, watching as she disappeared into the bedroom but left the door wide open. Katsuki stared at the door for a minute before inhaling slowly and letting out a sigh. He stood, closed the closet, and rubbed the back of his neck as he hesitantly followed after (Y/n).

He stood in the doorway with his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. (Y/n) was on the bed, scrolling on her phone, obviously upset. Katsuki was debating whether he should bite or turn and walk away. Whenever he or Izuku gets into a bad mood, they typically avoid each other lest it blow up in their faces. He didn’t know how this would turn out with (Y/n).

He’ll bite. (Y/n) was more sensitive than Deku. She needed different things than he did. Katsuki was still learning.

He shifted his weight, feeling stiff. “Something happen?”

“No,” came the sharp reply. Katsuki blinked, and his face soured. Katsuki hadn’t heard her use that tone with him before.

“What?” He snapped back.

(Y/n) didn’t look up at him, still scrolling on her phone. “I said, no, nothing happened.”

Katsuki stared at her. “Okay, but something obviously did? Your attitude is shit right now.”

(Y/n) shrugged and shook her head. “Your attitude is always shit. What, I’m not allowed to be upset about something?”

Katsuki threw his head back and closed his eyes. He took a breath. Calm down. “So, something did happen?”

(Y/n) groaned, rolling her eyes. “You guys just… practically ignore me!” She blurted. “You’re never here! I moved out of my apartment, I put my two weeks in at my job for you, and you guys don’t even seem grateful… My whole life is about to change…”

Katsuki’s eyes narrowed. “Us? Grateful? We are paying your tuitionfor your shitty education. We are giving you free housing in one of the safest neighborhoods in Japan. We are giving you complete access to your own bank account with millions of yen already in it with no strings attached. If there’s anyone that should be grateful, I’m looking right at her.”

(Y/n) was teary-eyed at Katsuki’s harsh words. She yelled at him, “What if I was fine before all of that?!”

“Then leave!”

Izuku came up the stairs. He had dark circles under his eyes, and despite the argument, he didn’t appear urgent. “What’s going–“

“Go back to your shitty life. I don’t care,” Katsuki turned and disengaged, going downstairs and leaving (Y/n) crying on the bed.

Izuku could barely stand on two legs from exhaustion, but he relented the fact that Katsuki could handle himself. If there was anyone that needed to be pacified, it was (Y/n). He had to figure out how to settle all of this before the clock struck 1 AM so they could all get to bed peacefully.

He stepped further into the bedroom, staring with dead eyes at (Y/n) as she cried on their bed. He had to push himself to keep walking forward and to sit on the bed next to her. He waited silently for her to stop crying enough to look up at him.

Eventually, her sobs simmered, and she just sniffled. She rubbed her eyes, finally meeting Izuku’s gaze. This was the first time tonight that she really could see the exhaustion on his face, and she felt guilty for making tonight about her.

“What’s going on?” Izuku asks. His voice is calm and quiet, but she hears that tinge of something else – pity.

“I, uh…,” (Y/n) starts, now unsure why she’s upset. “I guess I’m just stressed. And worried. And scared.”

Izuku looked concerned. “About?”

(Y/n) sighed, wiping her eye. “I don’t know,” she paused for a moment. “Katsuki’s right. I should be grateful for all you guys have done for me… I don’t know why I’m feeling like this.”

Izuku glanced off into the hallway, probably trying to determine where Katsuki was in the house. “Are you… not happy here with us?”

(Y/n) instantly shifted to face him fully on the bed. “No, no! That’s not it at all. I’m very happy… It’s just… different.”

He stared at her. “It doesn’t sound like you’re happy. Or look like it, either.”

(Y/n) looked at him oddly, making a point to prevent any more tears from falling. “I am. I am.”

Izuku continued watching her. (Y/n)’s phone vibrated in her hands, and she glanced at it before turning it back over.

“Did we do something to upset you?” Izuku asked. (Y/n) shook her head.

“No, you guys didn’t do anything…,” her voice trailed off.

“We obviously did. What is it?” He could be just as forthright as Katsuki. “We can’t help if we don’t know.” What little patience was left inside of Izuku this evening was nearly depleted. He was trying his hardest to remain present and serene. (Y/n) shook her head. Her phone vibrated again, and Izuku couldn’t help how his gaze flickered down at it.

(Y/n) sighed, realizing Izuku wasn’t really going to leave her alone until she spoke; however, there was an air of shame that surrounded her.

“I just… think I need more attention, maybe…,” she tried not to wince, but she wasn’t sure how well she covered up her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I know you guys have long hours…,” she trailed off once again.

Izuku nodded, “We do.”

“Um…,” she didn’t know what to say next. “It’s okay. I’m sorry for bringing it up. I think I’m just a little emotional after…,” she referred to their night together the other week. And, now that she’d thought about it, it wasn’t like they were completely ignoring her, either. They gave her affection as much as they could, kisses and whatnot. They’d all messed around a bit since that night, but they hadn’t gone ‘all the way’ again. Maybe with each other, but not with (Y/n). She didn’t feel ready to, and she knew that upset Izuku. He didn’t say it, but he always seemed a little disappointed when he saw the hesitance in (Y/n)’s eyes and how her touch was fleeting instead of carrying the same passion they started with. It especially disappointed him how she lingered heavier on Katsuki during their intimate moments, leaving Izuku to occasionally feel like the third wheel. He didn’t want to speculate on why this would be, so he never brought attention to it in hopes that he was imagining it.

“I’m sorry,” what exactly was she apologizing for? She felt like she needed to, though. Izuku looked like he was going to fall over from exhaustion, she’d made Katsuki mad, and here she was complaining when they had given her any girl’s dream life.

Izuku was too tired to address this any further. He glanced at the hallway again to see if Katsuki had returned. He hadn’t. He must’ve banished himself to sleep downstairs on the couch.

“Let’s just go to bed, yeah?” Izuku offered.

(Y/n) sighed but reluctantly nodded, feeling like a piece of her was unfulfilled.

Katsuki and Izuku made more of an effort to attend to (Y/n) after that night by spending more time with her when they were home. It made (Y/n) feel worse because she didn’t want them to think she wasn’t satisfied with all they had given her thus far – and now she could see how they were actively trying to keep her happy on top of all of that? Why couldn’t she just be appreciative to begin with? She tried not to let the guilt eat her alive, especially when she remembered that no other person, let alone two people at once, had ever treated her this preciously.

While the two pro heroes built their relationships individually with (Y/n), tensions rose between them, and it made (Y/n) uncomfortable. She didn’t know if this was how they always were or if something recently sparked this apparent rivalry between the two men. As she spent more time settling into the home and acclimating to her new environment, she couldn’t help but notice the sly remarks or side glances they gave each other – about literally anything. Most of their spats had to do with work. (Y/n) hardly knew what truly occurred in the hero world, so she would stay out of it.

Day by day, though, her guilt faded. She felt happier and able to truly enjoy her place in their home, no longer feeling like an outsider or a guest. She was learning both of them, slowly but surely. Katsuki required a lot of attention, but he’d never outright ask for it. He’d linger around (Y/n), not exactly engaging with her but doing mindless things around the house, and he’d get defensive if she pointed it out. She appreciated it when Katsuki was more honest about his desires, especially when he came home and the first thing he did was give her a kiss. Izuku was an insufferable romantic and very different than Katsuki in that regard. He was much more comfortable showing affection, and he always prioritized his partners’ comfort over his desires.

Izuku was much more cynical than his media personality makes him out to be. Sometimes, he said things that even made Katsuki go silent.

Katsuki was also a very clean person. (Y/n) feels like he might have an oral fixation, or maybe he just really, really enjoys watching her eat his cooking. She isn’t sure.

(Y/n) was getting ready for bed, just getting out of the shower, when she heard the whack of skin coming from the kitchen. She paused, listening, her mind trying to reassure her that it wasn’t what she thought it was. The front door opened and slammed shut – someone left the house, or someone just entered. Her heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She quickly tiptoed out of the bedroom, trying not to slip, as she still hadn’t dried off completely, peering down the stairs and into the kitchen.

She caught a glimpse of Izuku sitting at the island by himself. Whatever ruckus went down a few minutes prior no longer remained, and the house was silent. (Y/n) clutched the towel that draped around her, making sure it wasn’t going to fall, as she crept down the stairs.

Izuku glared at her as soon as she entered the kitchen, making her freeze by the door.

“What happened?” (Y/n) asked quietly. Izuku rolled his eyes, finally getting up from his barstool. He opened a kitchen drawer, the one where they kept random medicines, and rummaged through the back of it. He pulled out a cigarette and a lighter he’d stashed there.

(Y/n) watched him as he lit his smoke. She’d never seen him smoke in the house before. She got a glimpse of his face, then. His cheek was red and beginning to lightly bruise. (Y/n)’s eyes widened, and immediately, she flashed back to the events at Koburi Pass. She quickly approached Izuku, cupping his face to get a better look.

“Katsuki did that…?” Her emotions were conflicted. Izuku instantly yanked his face away from her before her fingers could even touch him. He took a drag of his cigarette. Tobacco smoke filled the kitchen, and (Y/n) grimaced. She just noticed now that she was shaking. Neither she nor Izuku said anything to each other for a while. They stood together in the kitchen silently, and (Y/n) watched as Izuku finished his cigarette. He rummaged through the medicine drawer once again, pulling out another cig.

“How many…?”

Izuku cut her off, seemingly already knowing what she was going to ask. “I keep them there. He hasn’t found them yet, or if he has, he hasn’t said anything.”

“Is he going to be upset that you’re smoking in the house?”

Izuku laughed bitterly, smoke blowing out with his exhale. He rolled his eyes again and shook his head.

Izuku practically refused to talk to (Y/n) about anything. The two of them just remained in each other’s presence. (Y/n) felt like he needed that more than to talk through whatever happened. He eventually went to bed, but (Y/n) stayed up. Katsuki hadn’t returned home yet, and (Y/n) had a few words to say to him.

It was around 2 AM when Katsuki returned home.

He closed the front door quietly – a complete difference from the slam hours ago. (Y/n) sat in the kitchen, pouring a glass of milk. She was nervous to see him, to get the truth of what happened. He was taking his time removing his shoes in the genkan, and it made every second feel like years. She forgot she even poured herself a glass of milk, as she stared at the entryway.

Katsuki appeared at the door of the kitchen, and his gaze immediately locked onto (Y/n). He looked a little distracted but otherwise fine. It wasn’t until he stepped further into the kitchen that she realized he was drunk.

He looked down at the untouched glass of milk in front of (Y/n).

“You spilled some,” he muttered. (Y/n) glanced down, noticing that she did indeed spill some milk on the counter when she was pouring it.

“I’ll get it,” she replied, looking back up at Katsuki. “Do you need water?”

Katsuki scoffed but smiled. “No.”

She thought she might as well confront him directly. Her resentment was teeming, “Why’d you hurt Izuku?”

The befuddled, faraway stare that Katsuki held hardened a little when she said that. He almost felt guilty. He swallowed, the alcohol loosening his lips more than he liked.

“He pissed me off,” he gave a slight shrug of the shoulder. Careless but honest.

Katsuki was always honest but never careless. (Y/n) decided then that she didn’t like this side of Katsuki. Her stomach felt tight.

“So, if I ever piss you off, you’ll do the same to me?” She snapped.

Katsuki shook his head, scowling at the ridiculousness of her question. He still stood in the doorway, almost caging her in, and (Y/n) noticed just how small she really was to them, to this big house. They stared at each other. Katsuki blinked then sighed, walking over to the fridge. (Y/n) was acutely aware of his movements, like she was locked in a room with a starving lion that circled her. The lion hadn’t pounced yet, but she could feel it in her bones that he was still eager to attack.

He shrugged, reaching for a beer from the bottom shelf – in the way back of the fridge.

“Guess not,” was his answer.

That wasn’t good enough for (Y/n), but she knew not to press the issue right now, not while he’s like this.

He popped open the beer bottle, threw away the cap, and plodded to the living room. She heard him collapse on the couch with a sigh.

(Y/n) stayed away from him for a while.

[foldingfittedsheets]

I used to worry people wouldn’t like my silly nsfw stories if they followed me for cute long gay comics and now that two of my sex shop stories are blowing up I’m fretting all the new followers will get annoyed about the long gay comics.

Repeating my mantra: this is my blog and I post what I want to.

[cvpidzcvrse]

𝔄𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔉'𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩?

MDNI, skadaddle nigga

✦A/N: i swear i try to post more but like but sitting on my ass is just rlly fun to do. BUT OFC I CANT BE GONE FOR LONGG!! also i didn’t proofread so ignore typos. here’s an ony fic that i pushed out my pussy bc i’m hot like that. ENJOY!

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Synopsis: You and ony have been fwb for a few months now. On a strict “no emotions involved” type of situation. But he can’t help it if he gets jealous when you start talking to someone else. Your famous last words? "Make me, nigga."

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Wc: 2,233

⋆.ೃ࿔*･Warnings: Mdom, argument, jealous ony, degradation, light choking, oral male!receiving, manhandling, spanking, face fucking, orgasm denial, fingering, very little praise, he’s mean asf, p in v, and finishing inside (practice safe sex)

(reader is black)

You and Onyankapon have been friends with benefits for a couple of months now. It all started because you wanted to lose your virginity badly. You were gnawing at the bars of your enclosure, being that dick hungry you put pornstars to shame. But you didn’t want to lose something so special to someone you barely knew. So you went down a line of people you knew, most of them you immediately shot down. Connie was a whore, Armin had a girlfriend, Jean is…Jean, so what was left was your best friend. He took the opportunity and ran with it, now you guys fuck at least twice a week.

Ony made the sex strictly just sex, with no relationship or strings attached. Just adults blowing off steam almost every weekend. He said it was ok to talk to other people, that’s where Eren comes in. You met him through Armin 2 weeks ago and you guys haven't stopped talking since. Even now, you’re at Ony’s house watching a movie but you can’t separate your eyes from your screen. He invited you over with the notion of just “watching a movie” but he just wanted to fuck, and you knew that. 

“Me Personally, I’d definitely survive in the quiet place. Like all you have to do is be quiet, it’s easy.”

You nod your head slowly, paying no attention to Ony’s statement. Your fingers are flying across your phone, you’re having a deep conversation with Eren. Ony looks over at you and rolls his eyes, you can feel his attitude radiating off of him and steam coming out of his ears.

“My nigga, you’re not even listening to me,” 

“First, I’m not ‘your nigga’. Secondly, I am listening…”

You trail off after hearing your phone go off with a ding. You snatch your phone out of your lap quickly and start typing away. He gives you the most crazed look he can muster. 

“Nigga, are you f’real?”

You look over at Ony’s reaction and the fact that he’s acting like such a drama queen right now. There’s no way he’s hurt by the fact that you’re talking to other people. He’s the one who made the rules in the first place, so why does he care who you talk to? He’s starting to regret his rule-making skills. Your flawless brown skin-pops with your white hoodie and sweatpants to match. Even before y’all started hooking up he thought you were the most beautiful person ever. 

“Damn, what the fuck are you talking about? Are you good?”

You frowned at his outburst, confused by the sudden change in tone. You finally put your phone to the side and put your attention on Ony. 

“You’ve been on your phone this whole fucking time. Paying absolutely no attention to me or the movie. Who are you even texting?”

“No One-” 

Ding..

Ony groans before snatching your phone out of your lap and softly pushing you back from getting it. You get up from your position on the couch and start reaching over his head but his grip on your wrist won’t budge. 

“Let’s see who you’re so fucking focused on…”

He looks at the screen and goes silent before turning his head at you. You’re standing there with an overly irked look, hands on your hips, and eyeing him up and down.

“...Eren!? Eren fucking Jeager!? Don’t tell me you’re actually talking to that sorry ass nigga?’

You roll your eyes at his possessiveness. There’s no reason why he should be concerned about who you text and who you decide to mingle with. It’s your pussy and can determine who it wants, right? 

“It’s not something you should be concerned about. Shit, just give me the dick so I can leave, that’s why you called me over right?”

His eyes go wide at your boldness. He can’t tell if you’re upset or just trying to rile him up—either way, it’s making him go insane. 

“Take that bass out yo’ voice mama. I’m looking out for you, Eren isn’t the type you want. Stop talking to that nigga”

He pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue showing clear signs of irritation. His baritone voice sends chills down your spine. Even when he’s irritated he still looks handsome, the warning look in his eyes makes your pussy clench.

“Who are you talking to right now? I ain’t gotta do shit, f’real. I’m not gonna let some Chiptole bag-tatted ass nigga tell me what the fuck to do.” 

Ony’s eyes are bulging out of his head and the vein on his forehead is starting to grow. He isn't fond of your attitude, he snatched you up multiple times because of it. He slowly gets up from his spot on the couch, now looking down at you with a dark look in his eye. 

“Watch your tone…”

He says eerily calm, his low voice coming out as silk to your ears. It’s like he’s talking directly to your pussy and she’s listening to every word he’s saying. Instead of standing down like he said you decide to stand on business, which is one mistake amongst many.

“Make me, nigga..”

You scuffed and rolled your eyes. That statement alone made Ony let out a rich chuckle, his face displaying a cheeky smirk. Before you even have time to gauge his actions you feel his callous hand wrap around your neck, forcing you to look up at him.

“Make you what? Say it again..”

He whispers seductively in your ear. You turn away from him before he roughly drags your face back to his. You shake your head not wanting to even breathe, You started this mess now he has to finish it. 

“The cock slut doesn’t wanna speak, huh? Take off your clothes since you want my dick so badly.”

The tent in his pants is now noticeable. He lets go of your neck and sits back down on the couch. You start untying your sweatpants, then slowly taking over your panties, followed by your hoodie and bra. Now you’re standing in front of him, all dignity stripped away with your clothes. 

“Get on your knees and suck this dick, I’ll show you exactly how to watch that mouth one of yours.” 

You nod before sitting in front of him unbuckling his belt. You slide down his pants to reveal his bulging cock through his underwear. You slowly pull down his underwear, earning a scuff from Ony. He pushes your hand away and pulls his cock out himself. His leaking mushroom tip was just inches away from your face. 

“Open your mouth.”

His passionless voice makes your clit throb and your stomach drop. He’s giving you no mercy tonight and you know that. You open your mouth wide as directed and impatiently wait for his next. He chuckles at how pitiful you look at this moment, taking a mental snapshot in his head. You’re waiting for his next command, your hand in between your thighs as you subtly grind on your hand for some type of friction. He grabs the base of his cock and slaps the tip on your tongue. 

“You like this shit, don’t you? Go on, suck it.”

You wrap your plump lips around his big cock, bobbing your head slowly. You trace circles around his tip with your tongue. He lets out a string of groans, feeling your warm mouth wrapped around his cock. He grabs the back of your neck and pushes you down on his cock roughly. You gag when his cock grazes the back of your throat with force. Tears swell in your eyes as he fucks your face senselessly. The vibrations of your moans drive him crazy, your muffled moans and tears send him over the edge. 

“Mhm…Swallow this cock—fuck”

His head lays on the couch cushion behind him. His hand travels from your neck to the back of your head, gripping your hair harshly. Your faux locs are now scrunched up in his hand. He starts pushing your head down rougher as his pace starts getting sloppy. You feel his cock twitch in your mouth and hot tears flow down your face. 

“Fuck–I’m about to cum. Make me cum, slut.” 

You moan at his command, your fingers travel down to your soaked pussy, and start massaging your aching clit. You hollow your cheeks and bob your head at his messy tempo pushing him closer and closer to his climax. White ropes shoot down your throat, and the warm thick substance slides your throat. His dick flops out your mouth with a ‘pop’. You rub fast circles on your clit wanting to cum as hard as he did. Right before you make it you feel Ony grab your wrist, halting any movement. 

“Who said you could touch yourself? Get up…”

You pout at your ruined orgasm. You get up before he grabs your waist and pulls you onto his lap. Your ass grazes his cock and your back is to his chest. He spreads your legs and hands as he traces small circles on your clit. Your head falls back in satisfaction, he smoothly inserts two of his long fingers inside your damp cunt. You grab his arm roughly, leaving dark nail marks on his tatted skin. His finger moves in and out of you with wet sounds accompanying it. 

“F…fuck…right there..”

You whine into his neck when you feel his pace quicken. He’s knuckles deep inside of you, the speed of his strokes increasing by the second. He chuckles at the sight, you’re drooling, your eyes screwed shut, and pornographic moans flooding the living room.

He groans as you squirm in his lap, your bare ass rubbing against his hard cock. He uses his other hand to rub your sensitive clit. Your grip tightens on his arm, your nail prints getting deeper every time he picks up his pace. His fingers plunging into your cunt with such speed and aggression brings you closer to your orgasm. 

“F—Fuck…s…slow down…I’m about…to—”

Ony chuckles before pausing his movement. He removes his fingers from your sloppy pussy and trails his hand over to your ass and gives it a small squeeze. 

“Only good girls get to cum. C’mon, face down ass up. Right now.” 

You whine at the absence of friction and he gives your ass a hard ‘Smack’ in response. He tossed you over to the other side of the couch before turning you on your stomach. He slides his cock on your warm slit, teasing your greedy pussy. He gives your ass a sharp slap before plunging his cock into your pussy without warning. 

You let out a porno-worthy moan and grab one of the couch cushions for stability. Ony quickly picks up the pace, abusing your cervix with every stroke. He gives your ass a couple of harsh slaps before grabbing the back of your neck and pushing your face into the couch cushion. The living room is overflowing with moans, grunts, and the sound of your sopping wet pussy. You put your hand back to stop Ony’s forceful thrust. 

“S—Shit…slo—ow…down…fuck” 

“Nah, Take this shit…Fuck, you’re such a slut.” 

Ony slaps your hand away before placing both of his hands on your hips, pulling you deeper into every thrust. You stifle your moans with your both as the bully of your pussy continues. 

‘Ding’

‘Ding’

You hear him groan as his strokes cease. He grabs your phone from the other side of the couch before scoffing at the name. 

“What the fuck does this lame ass nigga want?... Hold on.” 

You can hear the smirk in his voice, his cock going at a slower pace than before. You let out a few whimpers that earn you a harsh slap on your already stinging ass. 

“Hush…” 

His monotone voice sends chills down your spine. You have no clue what's going on behind you until you notice the shadow of your silhouette on the neighboring wall. 

‘Is that a flashlight? Wait…is he recording?’

Before you can confirm your answer he goes back to abusing your pussy. You muffle a moan with the pillow in front of you. He presses your body against the couch, the only thing talking is the wetness of your pussy.

“Shit…She’s talking to me, mama. C’mon, tell him who this pussy belongs to.”

You open your mouth to speak but nothing comes out but slutty moans. He gives your ass a hard smack, placing his free hand on your lower back. 

“Y-You! F—Fuck!... You do! You own this…mmph…slutty pussy!”

You choke out, completely cock drunk. You hear him chuckle and groan. You pussy turning him into a mess also. His strokes begin to get messy and you feel his cock twitch inside of you. 

“Shit mama…cum on my cock baby .”

He reaches his free hand around to trace circles on your clit.  Almost like clockwork, you leave your juices all over his cock and coat his shaft in a slippery mess. You feel his tip hit your G-spot a few more times before you feel his warm and sticky cum engulf your inside. His cock is covered in both of your juices, a ring of the mix at the base of his cock. 

Your brain is fogged with lust, you can barely think right now. All you can see are stars and darkness before finally feeling him pull out. 

“Did my dick feel good?”

“Mhm…”

“You’re my slut, right?”

“Mhm…” 

“Thank you, mama."

[Sent: 1 Attachment.]

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Don’t Prove I’m Right - [Part 4]

♥ prev

♥ series masterlist | main masterlist

♥ pairing: lando norris x fem!reader

♥ series synopsis: you didn't think twice about the dj you hooked up with until you found out you were pregnant. turns out the man wasn't just some dj but a famous formula 1 driver.

♥ chapter synopsis: after his reckless decisions, lando attempts to make it up to you. it took some convincing from oscar but you eventually gave in and had a conversation with him.

♥ smau + written - fc: girls on pinterest - none of the pictures are mine

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: its been MONTHS since the last chapter I am so sorry lovelies!

liked by logansargeant, lilyzneimer, lilymhe, and 120,538 more

yourusername ever since @/logansargeant and @/oscarpiastri got camila these plushies she’s been obsessed with them

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yourbestfriend please don’t tell me the deer is being replaced 😔

yourusername camila would never

lilyzneimer shes just too cute to not spoil

user1 haven’t seen lando in any of her posts recently 😕

user3 they did JUST get back to Monaco so I wouldn't be worried

user6 they're not dating either so I don't see why he would be

user4 we need a godfather reveal

logansargeant it’s me

oscarpiastri its me

carlossainz55 … it’s probably not me 😕

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It had been a couple of days since your last conversation with Lando and a knock on your door drew your attention away from your phone.

A giant box was sitting on the doorstep alone with no sender information. You hesitantly brought it into the living room and grabbed a pocket knife to cut through the clear strip of tape. The box quickly burst open from the pressure of the deeply packed objects—about a dozen jellycats and an apology note placed on top. 

It was clear to you that this package was from Lando, and it was a very sweet gesture. He’d clearly seen the post you made the previous day and was trying his best to make up for his mistakes. You sighed and folded the note up, setting it on your couch. You pulled out a soft pink bunny from the box causing Camila to squeal and hold her arms open. 

You still hadn’t checked your texts from Lando, but Oscar was right. You couldn’t ignore him forever. Lily offered to take you out for the night in order to clear your head. You were extremely grateful for Lily’s support and generosity ever since you met her. She had truly become one of your best friends throughout this experience.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by lilymhe, carmenmundt,, and 102,843 more 102,473 more

yourusername girls night

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lilyzneimer <3

user1 we love a self care queen

user2 she’s so pretty

alexandrasaintmleux we should all hang out together <3

francisca.cgomes i second that

yourusername i’m so there

user7 i love that the wags include her 🥹

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You sat next to Lily with a glass of white wine in your hand, conflicted. Of course you were. Like Oscar said, you had to confront him at some point, but it was going to take a lot for you to trust Lando again. You pulled your phone out of your purse.

You got the response pretty much immediately.

You sighed and turned to Lily, "I'm gonna go talk to Lando."

"Good luck," she said with a smile, and took another sip of her drink.

You picked Camila up off the couch and bundled her up in a small yellow blanket.

-

You were at his apartment in about twenty minutes. You knocked hesitantly, tapping your nails on the case of your phone and jangling your keys in attempt to reduce your anxiety. Lando opened the door in silence, letting you into the room. He sat back down on his couch and you followed, cradling your daughter in your arms and choosing to stand up as you spoke.

“Listen Y/n, I know what I did was-“

"I'm not going to take your child away from you,” you stated, cutting him off. “You said you want to be in her life, but you have to keep that promise."

He nodded and ran his hands across his face. You wanted to get straight to the point with no excuses. You had heard all of his apologies already.

"Lily talked to Kmag and found her a babysitter, so we're good on that end. But, you still have to earn back my trust to be alone with her and if anything like this happens again I won't be nice."

He looked back up at you, “It won’t ever happen again, I swear. It shouldn’t have happened in the first place.

”I agree.”

There was some awkward silence as you gently sat on the arm rest of the couch.

You looked down at your daughter, “She may not fully get it yet, but you’re her dad and she loves you,” you locked eyes with Lando again. “You chose to raise her with me, so you need to take responsibility.”

He nodded, “I understand.”

"Good," you responded, standing back up and stepping towards the front door. You paused without turning your head back towards him, "Good luck in Imola.”

With that you were gone.

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end notes: this was short, I am aware! there was originally supposed to be more to this chapter but I decided to turn it into its own whole part lol :) I've already started working on it so stay tuned!

taglist; @hc-dutch, @papaya-twinks, @2pagenumb, @formulaal, @erin-odonnell04, @drunkinthemiddleoftheday, | @kissesandmartinis, @ironmaiden1313, @six-call, @wolflover384, @tremendousstarlighttragedy, | @ilivbullyingjeongin, @celestialend, @silentreader128, @wolflover384, @ellesssssxzxz | @clowngirlsstuff, @ln4smiamitrophy, @whoneedsgeorge, @chezmardybum, @warlike-morning, | @gigicisneros, @hard4ndsoft, @eveninggstar, @jolixtreesunn, @acesofspadess,| @formulaonebuff, @notpeachybby, @shesmugirl, @mxdi0, @ririyulife, | @kravitzwhore, @bellinghambby22, @helaenatargaryensfavoritebug, @maplesyrupsainz, @harrysdimple05, | @pippyth3hippy, @noneofyourfbusinessworld, @littlegrapejuice, | @majx00, | @si1ver06 | @weekendlusting | @landossainz,

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[delusionaldeadgirl]

Adore Me

Spencer Reid x famous singer!reader

Summary: Spencer takes his friends to see his girlfriend at her live show in DC. He didn’t realize she was going to play a specific song about him that has him blushing and his friends joking about it

a/n: This is a random draft based on Juno by Sabrina Carpenter. It’s not chronological with the other one I posted. Nice comments are appreciated lol.

Spencer sat in the dimly lit venue next to his friends. The buzz of excitement filled the air as the crowd eagerly awaited performance of famous singer Y/N—who just so happened to be his girlfriend.

As the lights went down, the audience erupted in cheers. His heart raced as he looked at his friends. They were genuinely excited, especially Penelope. She had been talking about this ever since Spencer asked them all to come.

When Y/N stepped into the spotlight, wearing a stunning outfit that sparkled in the stage light, Spencer was left speechless. Her voice flowed through the crowd, captivating the crowd, mostly filled by young women. He couldn’t help but smile watching her interact with her fans.

Then she started singing one of her newest songs, one Spencer was surprised by when it started playing. One of Y/N’s most suggestive songs, obviously about him.

“Don’t have to tell your hot ass a thing. Oh yeah you just get it.”

“Whole package, babe, I like the way you fit. God bless your dad’s genetics”

Spencer blushed. Side eyeing Derek already knowing the look on his face and the playful banter that was to come. It was obvious to the whole room what the innuendos implied.

Derek leaned over, grinning. “Your girlfriend is something else, Reid. You sure you can handle all that?” Spencer stuttered trying to form a rebuttal but he like Emily always said “And just like that, IQ 187 is slashed to 60”.

The song progressed. Getting more and more suggestive making Spencer more and more bashful.

“I know you want my touch for life.”

“If you love me right then who knows? I might let you make me Juno”

His colleagues kept looking at him, trying to suppress their laughter at his reaction. “Looks like someone’s blushing” Emily joked.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love.”

“Oh, late at night I’m thinking ‘bout you, ah”

“Wanna try out some freaky positions?”

Y/N gets down on her elbows and knees looking directly at Spencer with a suggestive smile on her face.

“Have you ever tried this one?”

Spencer immediately buried is face in his hands. His friends hooting and cheering before they turned to look at his reaction. It was both thrilling and mortifying watching his girlfriend exude such confidence on stage. Thrilling because of how talented she is, mortifying because of how his friends were looking at him right now.

The song started to slow down a little, getting to the bridge. The most direct lyrics about to be sang. He was not mentally prepared for this.

“Adore me. Hold me and explore me.”

Y/N began to slowly walk over to the side of the stage facing Spencer.

“Mark your territory.”

“Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one”

She sang making direct eye contact with him. He was so done. The team’s genius swore he was brain dead by how entranced he was by her.

“Adore me. Hold me and explore me.”

She sang again as she got down on her knees once more. Laying on her back suggestively.

“I’m so fucking horny.”

At this point the whole audience could tell who she was performing this song for.

“Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one”

She sang one last time before getting back on and proceeding with the rest of the show.

Not only were Spencer’s friends speechless, but for what felt like the first time ever, so was he.

When the show ended, the crowd erupted in cheers once more as Y/N bowed, her eyes searching for Spencer in the crowd. The moment she spotted him, her expression softened, and she smiled excitedly.

After the show, Spencer approached her, still flushed. "You were amazing," he managed to say, his voice slightly shaky. "Thanks, babe! Did you enjoy it?" she asked, a teasing glint in her eye. “Uh yeah” he stuttered. “Maybe a little bit too much” Derek interjected with a laugh.

Y/N laughed, stepping closer. “You know, I was thinking about that song…”

Spencer swallowed hard, antsy to figure out where this was going. “Yeah?” he asked. “Maybe we can recreate it later” she whispered, winking at him.

His heart raced at her suggestion, and he felt both flattered and flustered. "I'd like that," he replied, unable to suppress his cheeks blushing even harder.

“So how about some after show drinks?” she suggested to the group. They all erupted in cheers of agreement.

As they walked out of the venue, Derek whispered to Penelope “I didn’t think Spencer watched anything but documentaries. How does he know what Juno is?” She just laughed shrugging her shoulders.

[depresssant]

Shades of Cool

NEGLECTFUL!PLATONIC!YAN!batfam x GN!reader

synopsis : growing up with a shit mom and constant step-dads and mom's boyfriends, your view on life has grown pretty bleak. you just want to die, since it doesn't seem to get better than this. things can't get any worse, can they?

wsp guys. it's been pretty long, huh?... OK IM SORRY FOR NOT POSTING IT QUICKLY. here, damn 🙄. anyways, i hope yall enjoy n im glad u guys liked the first chapter. lets just hope this one lives up to yalls expectations 😭. follow me and repost this if u want a chapter three. also I NEED SOMEONE TO EDUCATE ME ABOUT SUNDAY FROM HSR BC I WANNA WRITE FICS ABOUT HIM SO BAD SO PLS SOMEONE EDUCATE ME N ALSO IF U KNOW LOVE AND DEEP SPACE??? PLS HIT ME UP AND EXPLAIN THIS LORE BC I WANNA WRITE YANDERE FICS FOR THEM SO BAD

“Why are balls called balls when testicles sounds hella fancier?”

At your friend’s bizarre question, the face of your other friend, Zarian, twinges in disgust. “Jayelene… why do you feel the need to put that out there?”

You huff in amusement, focusing on your pizza before what Jaylene says ruins your entire mood.

“I’m just saying! Testicles just seems more appropriate⏤the type of fancy shit drake and his family would say.”

Tim Drake Wayne…

Dinner with him and his freak-a-zoid family was like trying to make it past no-man’s land without any help to shield you from the straight up chilling vibes they gave off with their constant comments about bat facts. Bats. The atmosphere during the entire time you spent there was dreadful and quite literally heavy since Tim's youngest little brother wanted to sneak stares at you as if you wouldn’t notice his bug-looking eyes creeping into your soul.

Rich people really are weird, huh?

The Wayne family is nothing like how you expected them to be. They’re supposed to be cold, mysterious, and irresistibly enchanting, but all you’ve got are creepy vibes and a strong urge to stay away from them as much as possible. From the way Mr. Wayne made that weird comment about your father in the limo to how forcibly happy Richard or “Dick” was with you, you’ve come to an understanding that rich people are complete lunatics.

The Wayne family is full of a bunch of lunatics.

And you’re not afraid to voice that.

“There you go again,” Jaylene sighs when she notices the irritated expression on your face. “It’s never that serious, [Name]. You just hate everyone.”

“No, you don't get it! They were creepy as hell! Like… Like bats in dark caves coming at you all at once. They talk funny, they look funny⏤they act funny! What normal man name drops your mother’s name after knowing each other for about thirty minutes?”

Zarian huffs in amusement. “That’s the creepy part. How does Mr. Wayne know your name?”

“I dont know.” You run your fingers through your hair and lean back against the booth seat. “I don't want anything to do with them. Billionaire or not, how the hell does he know my mother’s name.”

It was perhaps towards the end of your stay at the Wayne’s manor for dinner, and you knew you had to go home, so you had largely hinted at leaving to Drake. Everything had gotten wrapped up, but when you were just about to leave, Mr. Wayne had told you, “make sure to tell [M/n] I said hi.”

You could only stare at him in shock as your body carried along, because how does a man as famous and wealthy as bruce wayne know your mother⏤your mother? He’s the chief executive officer of Wayne Enterprises yet mentions your mother?

That moment alone is enough to wave every red flag in your brain that screams at you, telling you something is up with these shady people. The only question is what? What can a billionaire possibly want from you? Out of everything the world has to offer, the most influential billionaire in America wants to target some meager high school kid?

What do these people want from you? Is it a rich people thing to play around with those below you? Well, you guess it probably is. Like, is Mr. Wayne gonna pop out with his soulless eyes and say, ‘you’re my long lost child?’ or something?

You still don’t know why you’re being a goat stuffed before slaughtering. These people want something from you, but you? You’ve got nothing to offer that they could want. Why the hell do they even bother? If there's one thing you really hate, it’s being left in the dark like this. Not knowing is terrifying. It's dangerous. Not knowing means not being prepared, and if you’re not prepared, you won’t make it out. Damn it, you should’ve booked it the moment Mr. Wayne mentioned your father in the limo. Movies and shows always display rich people as eccentric and psychopathic weirdos, and now you’re finally believing it.

Damn it.

You’re in danger. Okay.

Maybe that’s an exaggeration. But maybe it’s not.

You’ve watched enough true crime and have enough intuition and trust in your gut to know when something is wrong.

It’s not adding up.

You’re not dumb. You see all the warnings there, but what if you're exaggerating. What if this is just the nature of the Waynes, and you think you’re special enough to be noticed by them? Mr. Wayne is a damn billionaire! He’s got the money to do whatever he wants, so it’s only natural for him to do a background check on everybody that interacts with his sons, right?

It’s all in your head… It’s all in your head.

Sighing, you stare at the plate of food in front of you, appetite long gone. Still, you grab a fork and continue to eat as Zarian and Jaylene scream back and forth next to you. Drake, who had accompanied the three of you to the diner after practice, has left, thankfully. He left as soon as his food arrived while talking about some family emergency, and honestly, you’re pretty damn grateful for that.

Ever since dinner at his house, he’s surrounded you like a pillow smothering you, and you can’t do anything about it. He’s a billionaire’s son, for fuck’s sake.

It doesn’t take long for you and your friends to finish up, and you all part ways at the door of the diner before you clutch the straps of your backpack and walk around the city endlessly. This is a habit for you now⏤a way to put off going home as much as possible ever since you found out your mother’s boyfriend doesn’t come home until one or two in the morning.

That balding, ugly, sleazy piece of shit.

He’s as gross as every other man your mother’s brought home under the terribly veiled illusion that he’ll provide her a good life and treat her right. No matter how many times you try to tell that blind bitc… No. It's wrong. It’s not your mother’s fault.

But it sometimes feels like that, though.

Most mother’s destroy their own lives for their children, yet yours cannot even think about leaving the man that beats her child on a daily. Those types of mothers leave their spouses the second they see something wrong, while your mother treats those finger-print bruises around your neck like a necklace instead of abuse.

You’ve given up on her. You gave up on her back when you were eleven years old locked in a room with her boyfriend, and she didn’t listen. Or when you were twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen. Or fifteen. Or sixteen. Or seventeen. And now eighteen.

And each day feels like a repetition of the same. Wake up, go to school, practice, walk around, go home, get beat, and sleep like none of it all happens. It’s a routine you despise with every fiber of your being⏤makes you wanna jump over Gotham City Bridge before thinking about returning home because who would want to? Who wants this average life?

A life where you’re not happy enough, not sad enough. Not good enough, not bad enough. Not energized enough, not tired enough. You feel like a survivor of a plane crash floating on a raft at the center of the endless ocean with no way out. Everything just seems so vast, wide, and unreachable. How can you find the shore on a simple raft? How can you find a way out of inescapable misery if it’s not by drowning?

You’ve been waiting to find the shore, but it’s been a whole eighteen years since you’ve found yourself floating along the ocean.

That whole “it’ll get better” shit is a tragic lie.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter⏤not anymore, at least. You’re going to get far away from this place and never look back. Never have to relieve this wretched city. Never have to be confined by chains again. You’ve only a few months left before you’re free.

Until then, you’ll have to be patient and go home because the sun has fully disappeared.

Nothing but satellites twinkle in the disgustingly polluted sky of Gotham City, and the streets have come to a staggering halt as you stroll about the sidewalks, trying to find the longest path to get home. One in the morning is always the perfect time in Gotham because it’s too late and too early to be outside, so it’s generally safe for a walk.

Of course, the universe likes to prove you wrong at every point.

The sound of a thud followed by a pained groan behind you has your legs locked and ready to run with your brain screaming alerts, but you take a deep breath and turn around. How bad can it get, anyways? The sight before you surprised you nonetheless. It’s… Nightwing, a Bludhaven hero, here in Gotham, just randomly popping up behind you?

With clear bleeding cuts and sprouting bruises across his body.

In the random alley you just happen to be in?

No. You’re looking into it too much.

His eyes lock onto and they make you freeze right then and there like he’s cast some spell upon you. But that’s for a cold, brief second before you’re hooking your thumbs under the straps of your backpacks and turning around hot on your heels, refusing to spare him a single second. 

You even hear him murmur a strained, “wait,” but you don't care. 

It’s rude, mean, cruel, and it’s also none of your business. All you simply do is walk ahead to your approaching doom with an pit of unease and bitter understanding of your helplessness in your stomach. You can already feel the soon-to-be new bruises blooming along your back.

You’re not a good person.

But, really, who is?

Smoking really does skill.

But now you know why people do it.

Each drag is more out of necessity than it is a choice ever since you’ve met your friend’s plug at the dumb age of sixteen, but it's a way to dull the harsh truth of reality. The world just fades into nothing but muted and mixed colors like the loud city underneath your balcony it blurs into a faint hum the longer you stare at the spiral puffs of smoke that disappear into the air. 

Everything’s bitter⏤the joint and you.

Really bitter at the blood semi-dried on your face and the dull ache along your back.

You’ve got about an hour and a half until you have to head out to school, so what other way is there to spend it than smoking away your brain? The joint’s a temporary escape, but it helps you stall whatever new feeling of despair you’ll feel for the day. Until you’re interrupted by your phone buzzing⏤the sound still a dull hum in your ears

“... Hello?”

“[Name]!”

Zarian’s voice?

“Where the hell are you? Hurry up and get to school or else you’re gonna get in trouble for not helping to set up the club fair, and coach will be on our ass! And don't forget to bring money for the tickets!”

Coach?... Club fair?... Club fair! Holy shit!

Your eyes shoot open, and you frantically scramble up, tossing the joint over the balcony railing before hectically staggering through the living room like a drunk man. Damn it, how could you be so clueless and forget such an important event? Especially one you need money for! Damn it⏤damnit! What do you do?

… Mom! She’s got a box of money somewhere in her closet, right? You’ve seen it before! It's just twenty dollars, and she wont notice. Okay… Okay. You’re quick to get ready. You wash away all the blood that’s dried on your face, brush your teeth, and change into baggy jeans and a clean shirt before storming into your mother’s bedroom and rummaging through her things. 

She’s off at work. Her bastard boyfriend doesn't come home until late at night, which means he’s probably already taken money for the day. Okay. That's fine. They won't notice.

But you can't find anything! What the hell? Where is that fucking box? You could’ve sworn it was there on the top shelf last night, but as you swipe your hands across everything on the shelf, you can’t find it. All of a sudden, something made of wood hits the top of your head and falls to the ground with a crack. You hiss, palm moving to cover where you got hit, but your eyes land on the box that now has money strewn all across the floor and a broken… false bottom?

What the fuck.

You pull away at the rest of the false bottom to only be met with countless photos of you as a child with your mother. Mom’s shit boyfriend had all the family photos taken down for some weird reason, so they’ve been here this entire time? All of these photos are full of you throughout every stage of your life, but some have different people in them as well. Their faces are either scratched out or they’re ripped out of the photo entirely.

From what you can gather, the figures are a man and what seems to be a teenage boy. The absurdity and even slight creepiness of the scratched out faces has you laughing, yet even with your now dulled senses, your eyes land on a photo you failed to notice earlier. Maybe you’re hallucinating. There must be something wrong with your brain. Or your eyes. The universe must be playing with you because is that a photo of you and a teenage-looking dick grayson?

Your eyes widen because it looks just like the strange man you had the unfortunate opportunity of having a conversation with during dinner with the Waynes. It’s him! More importantly, why the hell is he holding a ‘three year old’ you’s hand? You probably should be screaming. Yelling. Maybe panicking? But all you can do is shuffle through the rest of the box before your fingers graze against something metal that has your heart jumping.

It’s a small camera.

With a bat engraved on its side.

Ears ringing so loudly in your head you can't even think, you wipe your teary and red eyes hastily before grabbing a twenty dollar bill, putting everything except for the photo and camera in the box, set it back on the closet shelf, and hastily grab your backpack before making way to school.

The second you reach the damned place, you seek out your now three friends and drop into a seat with a heavy thud, sighing and meeting Tim's eyes with a burning gaze.

“You mean to tell me [Name] found the camera? And you decided to tell me after school?”

Time Drake Wayne sighs and runs his fingers through his black hair, shrugging apathetically while scrolling through every photo in his phone that he’s taken of you during the club fair. His brother, Richard, is pacing throughout his room anxiously as he rambles off about their latest fuckup. 

“Look, Bruce doesn't let any slip ups happen,” Tim murmurs in exasperation. “He wouldn't let this happen because [Name]’s mom and him talked this morning. Relax, he probably knows.”

It's not a lot, but it’s enough to calm Richard down. The man takes a deep breath but finds himself sitting down next to Tim, trying to get a good look at the pictures. “How mad was [Name]?”

“High, for starters, but clearly pissed off. Very observant, too.”

“Don’t tell anyone else. Not until Bruce gives us the okay.”

TAGLIST :

@ilovemyhusbandnanami (so real), @missikkj, @ferakillia, @darlinqvi, @soriansick, @sleepydhanie, @h0rr0r-10ver-69 (love ur blog aesthetic bae), @anuttellaa (OK WINX 😽), @feral-childs-word (love the pfp), @shycreatorreview, @friesandfixations, @stuff6969fuckyou, @babiebubsie, @jsprien213, @cattioo, @cherrydaisymanic (cheetah?leopard? printttt 😍), @00hellohello00, @princessloveweird, @amber-content, @idonthaveanameforthisacc, @f1lover4ever, @dreamsarenicer, @imaginarydreams, @solkara (love the calm aesthetic), @bobfood, @toast-on-dandelioms, @ijustfuckme, @cantfindmelol, @xx1shadow1xx, @azulawayne, @box-of-kinderjoy, @iamaunknownsecret, @missybabes, @phoenixgurl030, @couldeatthatgirlforlunch, @devils-blackrose, @arevvv, @freakthis, @yourhornysister, @kirahhhh, @perfectparadisegardener, @testishere, @spaceunicorn293, @vanilliona (love the pfpp), @uknowimdumb, @esposadomd, @dakotali, @lilyalone, @kore-of-the-underworld, @pix-stuff, @hellcatsworld, @chericia, @mspoisoncoil (love the bannnnerrr) , @devotedlyshamelessdetective, @cheeseburgercasserole (love the aesthetic), @twismare

so follow me n repost if u want part lll. and somebody pls explain hsr and love and deepspace lore to me. making a taglistttttt. if this post doesnt get as many likes as the first one, im deleting this series 😭. if u see a grammatical mistake, no u didnt 😃🔪

if anybody’s got requests about this series or in general, feel free to ask!!!

WAIT!! FOLLOW MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT : @depresssant. I JUS PUBLISHED A HISTORICAL YANDERE X READER STORY

[pucksandpower]

Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

[forzarma]

Between the lines

Lando Norris x Law student!reader

A/N: ok amma just act like i didn’t ghost this app for months and came out if nowhere but here we are ig. Also the Brazilian gp??? What the heck like wild race istg😭

It all started one night in Monaco, on a break from law school. You were on vacation with a friend, celebrating the rare freedom that came with a brief pause in your intense study schedule. A night at the casino was not usually your scene, but your friend had insisted.

After about an hour, she’d struck up a flirtatious conversation with some guy who’d been lingering by the bar. You waved her off, telling her you’d be fine, and took a seat on your own near a roulette table.

That’s when he walked up. Unassuming at first, with that messy hair and a slightly cocky smile that had “trouble” written all over it.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, a hint of an accent in his voice.

You shrugged, amused. “Go for it. But I’m not particularly good at this.”

He chuckled. “Neither am I.”

You exchanged a few more jokes, but it didn’t take long for him to introduce himself, giving you his number in a smooth, unhurried way.

“Lando,” he said, his eyes glinting with mischief.

You stashed the number away without much thought. It was only the next day, when you mentioned the encounter to your little sister over FaceTime, that you realized who he actually was.

“Some guy named Lando gave me his number at the casino,” you’d said offhandedly. Her jaw dropped.

“Wait, Lando who??.”

You blinked, stunned, and then laughed. “I don’t know, apparently he’s famous”

“so it’s lando fucking norris what” she said wide eyed

She rolled her eyes, muttering, “Only my sister would be this oblivious to F1 drivers. I’ve been a die-hard fan since I was, like, ten, and you meet one without even knowing?”

From there, you let yourself get to know him, intrigued by how normal he seemed compared to the hype you’d suddenly realized surrounded him. When he asked you out, you thought, why not? You were used to focusing on your studies and keeping your personal life private, so it didn’t seem like much would change. But with Lando, everything was different.

-

Months later, you’d fallen into an unexpected but steady rhythm with Lando. Despite his career, he managed to keep things low-key. Neither of you posted much about each other. Hell, you barely posted anything at all. You were still a law student with a private life, and the last thing you wanted was for the whole world to know who you were dating.

One evening, you were lying on his couch, scrolling through your phone, when Lando turned to you with a sly grin.

“Babe, you know… you’re eventually gonna get caught, right? Someone’s going to snap a picture of us, and then the cat’s out of the bag,” he teased, nudging your leg with his.

You groaned, rolling your eyes. “Oh, sure, because every random person with a camera is just dying to know who you’re dating.”

He snickered, leaning in closer. “Maybe. But you know, it could be kinda nice… to go out sometimes. Like, properly. We don’t have to make a big deal of it.”

You hesitated, biting your lip. As much as you loved being with him, the idea of being recognized—or worse, photographed—made you cringe. Your accounts were private, your life simple, and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about people seeing you with him.

But, at the same time, you knew it wasn’t fair to keep him hidden away forever. So, you took a deep breath and gave him a small smile. “What if we make a deal?”

His eyebrows shot up in interest. “I’m listening.”

“You can have me at the paddock,” you said, already dreading the idea. “But my accounts stay private, no tags, no ‘girlfriend reveals’ on Instagram. I’ll show up, I’ll be there for you but I’m not trying to become some celebrity.”

He grinned, leaning in to kiss you softly. “Deal. Although I can’t promise you won’t end up in a couple of team photos. You know how they love to catch every damn moment.”

You chuckled, trying not to think too hard about what you were signing up for.

-

A couple of weeks later, you were lying in bed with Lando, scrolling mindlessly through Instagram, when you felt a pang of guilt.

“I never actually told you about my sister,” you said suddenly.

“Oh?” He looked over at you with interest.

“Yeah, she’s been obsessed with F1 since she was like, ten,” you explained, laughing softly. “She’s begged me to take her to a race for years, but I was always too busy with school. Now she’s a full-on Ferrari fan… and she’s probably never going to forgive me for dating you.”

He grinned, intrigued. “A Ferrari fan, huh? That’s rough. Maybe I can convince her to switch sides.”

You snorted. “Good luck. She’s already sworn allegiance to Sebastian Vettel. In her words, McLaren’s colors are ‘an offense to her soul.’”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Well, in that case, we’ll have to win her over somehow. Why don’t we bring her to a race? I’ll make sure she gets the best seats, full experience,

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. “She’d lose her mind. Seriously. Are you sure? Because I can tell you right now, she’d never root for McLaren.

“Absolutely,” he said, squeezing your hand. “If she’s as big a fan as you say, she deserves a proper race weekend. Plus, I think it’s time we officially break her ‘Ferrari-only’ heart.”

-

On race day, you and Lando arrived at the paddock, and immediately, heads turned. You’d chosen a classic, chic outfit and despite your initial nerves, you managed to keep your cool.

You spotted your sister down the row, and her jaw dropped as soon as she saw you. She approached, barely able to contain her excitement, though she shot a mock glare at Lando.

“Such a shame I don’t like McLaren,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he replied with a grin. “You just wait. One lap, and you’ll be a fan.”

She rolled her eyes, but you could tell she was thrilled, practically bouncing on her heels as she looked around at the spectacle. She turned to you, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re really here… at a race. I don’t know whether to thank you or disown you.”

You laughed, nudging her playfully. “I’m still not a fan, if that helps.”

She huffed, pretending to be offended. “I guess I’ll forgive you. But only if you bring me every single time from now on.”

The rest of the day passed in a blur of cameras, fans, and the hum of engines. You couldn’t deny the rush of excitement that came with being part of the chaos, even if it meant being in the public eye. And when you saw your sister’s face, completely lit up as she took in every second, it felt worth it.

-

The relationship slowly became public, just as you and Lando had agreed. You kept your accounts locked down, but fans began to recognize you, and a few photos of you two at the paddock circulated on social media.

Your sister stayed true to her Ferrari fandom, texting you regularly to tease you about your “betrayal.” But every now and then, you’d catch her slipping in a comment about McLaren usually something along the lines of, “Okay, that car looks pretty badass.”

One evening, Lando turned to you with a satisfied grin. “I think we’re doing alright, don’t you think?”

You looked around the Monaco apartment you’d somehow started calling “home” without even realizing it, at the life you’d built together. You leaned over, giving him a soft kiss. “Yeah, I think so, too.”

In the end, you realized you didn’t need to post, announce, or shout your relationship from the rooftops. Being there for each other was enough, even if it meant sharing some of the spotlight.

After all, Lando may have been the one the world wanted to see, but you were his, and that was more than enough.

[mynicosensesaretingling]

When the Snow Falls

a Lando Norris x reader story

Request: Can you write me Christmas market date with Lando including first kiss? 🙏🏼Childhood friends to lovers, I always got dragged to karting racing by my dad and that's how we know each other.

Warnings: none , written in my notes app

Note: I guess I am officially kicking off the christmas season with this one. It’s my first time writing for Lando but I most certainly hope you enjoy it <3

——

The year was slowly but surely coming to an end, with Christmas just around the corner you found yourself on your way to your first Christmas market visit of the season. For as long as you could remember, Christmas markets had always been your favorite part of the holidays, and this year, it felt even more special—because you were going with Lando.

You’d known Lando Norris practically forever. Your dad had dragged you along to karting races when you were both kids, and you’d quickly bonded over the long hours at the track. Back then, you didn’t care much for racing, but you did like hanging out with him. Already as a child, Lando had managed to make everything fun—whether he was sneaking you snacks from the paddock or teasing you about how bored you looked while your dad obsessively watched the races.

Even years later, when Lando’s career took off and he became a Formula 1 driver, things between you didn’t change. Sure, he got more famous, busier, and a lot harder to keep up with, but whenever you saw him, it was like nothing had changed. Well, almost nothing.

Lately, things had been… different. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but something between you had shifted. There were moments now where he looked at you just a little too long, where his jokes seemed to hold a new kind of meaning or where his hand lingered on your shoulder, sending chills up your spine. You’d always been close, but lately, you found yourself thinking about him in a way that friends shouldn’t—like the way his smile would make your heart swell with joy or how the sound of his voice made your chest tighten just a little.

And now here you were, approaching the Christmas market bundled up in your favourite scarf and a thick coat, with snow lightly falling around you. Letting your eyes wander over the scene in front of you, you could easily tell that the market was packed, the sound of music was mixing with the lively chatter of the people, various colourful lights were twinkling overhead and the winter breeze carried the smell of seasonal treats and mulled wine. The whole place looked like something out of a Christmas movie.

You spotted Lando waiting for you near the entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, his breath fogging in the cold air and snow flakes adorning his wild curls. When his searching gaze found you, his face lit up with a grin that sent warmth all the way to your toes—despite the freezing weather.

“About time!” Lando called out with a teasing smile. “I was starting to think you ditched me for someone more fun.”

“Like who?” you shot back, chuckling as you walked up to him. “I’m only here for the free hot chocolate.”

“Harsh,” he said with a dramatic sigh, shaking his head. “But understandable.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of your lips. That was the thing about Lando—he made everything easy. With him, you didn’t have to try too hard to be funny or smart or interesting. He just got you. Always had.

Lando bumped his shoulder lightly against yours, a playful spark in his eyes. “Come on then, let's see what else we can find to complain about.” he teased. But his words held a warmth that wrapped around you like the winter chill never could. You knew he wasn’t just talking about the market—it was his way of reminding you how comfortable everything felt when it was the two of you.

As you linked arms and wandered into the market, the festive lights twinkling overhead, you felt that familiar feeling of comfort settle over you, the kind that only ever seemed to come when you were with Lando. Despite everything—the years, the fame, the distance—it still felt like it was just the two of you against the world, like it had always been.

“So,” Lando said as you passed a stall selling Christmas ornaments, his breath visible in the cold air. “You still remember how much you hated coming to the karting track back in the day?”

You laughed, gently shaking your head at the unexpected throwback. “I didn’t *hate* it. I just wasn’t obsessed with it like you were.”

“Liar,” Lando teased, nudging you playfully. “You looked absolutely miserable every time I saw you.”

“Yeah, because my dad was way more invested than I was,” you shot back with a grin. “But you made it bearable. I could always count on you offering me an escape from the racing madness.”

He smiled softly at that, and for a second, the teasing glint in his eyes vanished, replaced by something else—something that made your heart skip a beat. “Well, you were mine too, you know. It wasn’t all about the karting.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a brief moment, the bustling market seemed to fade around you. You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Lando pointed toward a stall up ahead. “Come on, let’s get you that hot chocolate you came here for in the first place.”

You followed him through the crowd, the energy of the market buzzing around you, but your thoughts kept circling back to that look in his eyes. There had been something different about it—something that made the air feel just a little heavier between you.

Whilst you had been lost in thought Lando had bought two steaming cups of hot chocolate and you only found yourself snapping back to reality when the driver carefully handed one to you. “Here. This should keep you from freezing to death.”

You took it gratefully, cradling it between both of your hands, a satisfied hum leaving your lips when you felt the warmth seeping through your skin . “You’re the best.”

“I know,” Lando said with a cocky grin, but there was a softness in his tone that made your heart flutter.

As the two of you wandered deeper into the market, sipping your hot chocolate and chatting about everything and nothing, the playful banter flowed naturally. It always did with Lando. But even between all the sarcastic comments and dry jokes you could feel something unspoken hanging in the air between you, a tension that had been building for months.

The festive stalls blurred together as you walked, but then something caught your eye. You stopped in front of a small wooden stall, the soft green of mistletoe sprigs hanging from the awning, each tied with delicate red ribbons. You stared at them for a moment longer than you meant to, your stomach doing a little flip as the realization of what mistletoe symbolized hit you.

“You know what they say about mistletoe…” Lando said, his voice suddenly becoming a little quieter, a little softer. He was standing close—closer than usual—and when you looked up, his eyes were fixed on you, not the mistletoe.

Your breath caught, heart racing as you noticed the change in the air between you. Trying to steady yourself, you gave a small smile and raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah? And what exactly do they say?”

He took a moment to reply, his gaze still locked on yours. “Apparently, you’re supposed to kiss under it.”

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. The noise of the market, the lights, the people—it all faded into the background. It was just you and Lando, standing there in the middle of the market, the snow falling softly around you.

Your senses where overwhelmed with how close he was now—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, could see the soft, nervous flicker in his eyes. For a split second, you thought about backing away, about brushing it off with a joke like you always did.

But you didn’t. Instead, you stepped forward, almost closing the space between you. “I guess we should follow tradition then,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sounds of the market.

Lando’s eyes flickered to your lips, the desire in his eyes as clear as day before all of sudden his lips found yours. It was soft and tentative at first, like he was testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. His hands gently cupped your face, pulling you closer as the years of secret longing were finally revealed in his every touch.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and a little dazed, Lando was smiling that familiar smile, the one that never failed to make your heart race. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.” he admitted, his voice low and a little nervous.

You smiled back, your heart still hammering loudly in your chest. “Me too.”

Lando let out a breath of relief, his forehead resting gently against yours. “Good. Because I was starting to think I’d never work up the nerve.”

His confession coaxed a soft laugh from your lips, your hands resting on his chest. “You, nervous? That’s a first.”

“Only with you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper and eyes holding his heart. He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead before readjusting and pulling you into a warm embrace. “I guess we’re not just childhood friends anymore, huh?”

“Guess not,” you whispered back, not trusting your voice as a feeling of warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the hot chocolate or the twinkling lights above.

And as the snow continued to fall gently around you, you remained in Lando’s embrace, your head resting against his chest as you found comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. Your eyes followed the sparkling snowflakes and the world around you seemed to slow. With his arms wrapped securely around you, you felt a sense of calm wash over you, like all the chaos and uncertainty that had been swirling in your life had finally come to a halt. You couldn’t help but contently hum as you felt like everything was finally falling into place. The way you fit against him, the warmth you shared despite the cold, and the quiet peace between you told you everything you needed to know.

[lovegalor333]

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

my bad (paige x reader)

summary: paige accidentally hits you with a basketball and she feels bad so tries to make it up to you.

content warnings: none!

requested by: anon 💗

It was a warm summers evening in Storrs and there was nothing you and your roommate enjoyed more than ending your day with frozen yogurt.

You had walked to the dessert shop on campus, excited for your sweet treats but there was an unusually long line for this time off the evening. There was a group of girls outside of the shop and as you got closer, you recognised them as the womens basketball team.

There was six of them and all of their faces were familiar. Paige Bueckers, Azzi Fudd, Ice Brady, KK Arnold and two freshmen that, admittedly you didn’t know the names of. They had a ball in tow that they were bouncing and throwing to one another and every now and then, the ball would be dropped and it would roll away and one of them would scramble after it. You giggle as you watch the scene unfold, KK shoving herself into Paige, playfully trying steal the ball from her.

The team was somewhat famous on and off campus. They were the most successful womens basketball program in the nation with the longest winning streaks in college basketball, period. And more recently, the current team had shot to fame on social media and you could see why. Tall, muscular, athletic. The appeal was obvious.

You had been to a few games over your years at UConn and often saw the girls around campus and they seemed nice enough so you had no problem with how boisterous they were being while you waited in line.

“Be honest. Smash or pass?” Your Khloe asks you, catching your gaze focused on the athletes.

“Which one?” You ask back.

“I don’t know, any…the blondie?” She says pointing to Paige and you slap her hand down not wanting them to see her point.

“I don’t know.” You say but you do know and your roommate does too.

“Yes you do. That’s your type all over.” She teases and she’s right. That was your type. Tall, blonde, light eyes, athletic, there was no denying Paige Bueckers was your type.

“Whatever.”

“So…smash or pass?”

“Smash.” You say and your roommate grins but before can even roll your eyes in response, you literally get smashed, right in the face.

You’re thrown off balance and stumble back at the impact before you steady yourself.

“Paige!”

Your eyes are screwed shut as a sharp, stinging sensation spreads over your left cheek, that hurt like a bitch.

“Oh my God! My bad ma, I’m so sorry.” You feel two hands land on your shoulders and when you open your eyes, it takes a second for your vision to clear. When it does, you’re met with Paige, inches away from you, hands on your shoulders, a sorry look on her face.

“Does it hurt?” She asks, bringing her hand up to your face to angle it so she can get a better look at her handy work. Your cheek felt like it was on fire, it was definitely red as hell right now.

Your head spun and you wasn’t sure whether it was because of the unexpected impact or because of the beautiful, blue eyed girl with her hand on your face.

“A little.” You squeak out.

“I am so sorry, I feel so bad. You should ice it. I should get you ice. Where can I get ice? Someone get some ice!” Paige rambles out and you laugh at her frenzied words.

“It’s OK. I’ll survive.” You reassure her and she seems to calm down.

“Your frozen yogurt is on me.” She tell you and you shake your head, “You don’t have to do that.”

“I do. I just threw a ball in your face.” She chuckles, finally dropping her hands from your face and shoulder.

“Well, when you put it like that...” You respond, rubbing your cheek in hopes to defuse the pain.

The line moved quick and soon, Paige and her friends were at the counter making their orders and you were up next. Paige insisted on standing beside you until you had ordered, even when her friends went to sit at a table, just so she could keep her promise and pay for you.

“Could we also get a bag of ice for the pretty lady?” Paige interjects after you give your order, “I accidentally smacked her face with my ball.” She over explains and once again brings her hands up to turn your face to the server so he can see the mark, “Look.” She says but the guy behind the counter looks like he couldn’t care less. “I don’t need ice, it’s fine.” You insist and he gets on, adding your chosen toppings to your frozen yogurt.

You’re thankful for your red cheek because the way Paiges slender, slightly calloused fingers held your face so gently and the use of the pet name pretty lady made you blush, hard. You had been single for longer than you’d like to admit so at this point you were touch starved and Paige was feeding you.

She had already started eating her frozen yogurt and as you glanced up at her to thank her for paying, you notice a blob of it on her cheek.

“Um-you- you kinda have…” You point at her face, “some yogurt right here.”

You hate to admit it but you’re mesmerised by the way she flicks out her tongue and wiggles it, trying to swipe the yogurt away.

“It’s still there.” You inform her and she dips her head down, more to your level, “Do you mind?”

Does this girl seriously want me to wipe her face? You thought to yourself.

“Come on, I don’t bite.” She chuckles so you take your finger and wipe the yogurt away, “There.” You say, her face now clean and her next movement makes you raise your brows, taken aback. Her mouth is open, tongue poking out ever so slightly, she wants to lick the yogurt off your finger.

“Seriously?” You ask shocked at her brazen attitude, “You don’t know where my fingers have been.”

“I can only dream.” She smirks and takes it upon herself to guide your finger to her mouth, licking it clean.

“You’re so nasty.” You playfully shove her shoulder.

“A nasty girl who pays for your yogurt.” She says taking your order from the server and handing it to you.

“For real, thank you.” You smile genuinely.

“For real, I’m sorry.” She replies and you tell her it’s fine before turning to leave the store, Khloe waiting for you by the door.

“You’re not sitting in?” Paige asks making you turn around to face her again.

“No, we have…a spot.” You say, referring to yours and Khloes favourite place to eat on campus.

“Ohh, a spot?”

“Mhm.” You nod, taking a spoon full of frozen yogurt into your mouth.

“Where is this spot?”

“I’m gatekeeping.” You tease and Paige pouts exaggeratedly, “Maybe I’ll show you one time.” You offer not actually knowing why you said that and you immediately cringe.

But Paige agrees, “Deal.” She says, holding out her hand for you shake and you do. For someone you only really met a few minutes ago, her hands have been on you quite a bit.

You begin walking to Khloe and by the grin on her face, you know what the topic of conversation will be this evening.

“Wait, how can I reach you?” Paige calls after you, “If it’s meant to be, it will be.” You call back, turning your head to look at the girl one last time.

“I don’t even know your name!”

You shout out your first and last name as you walk out of the shop.

“Did blondie just suck your finger?!” Khloe whisper screams once the door closes behind you.

You laugh, “It was more of a lick.” You say matter of factly.

“But her finger was in your mouth?”

“Yes.”

“Wow…slutting it up in the Fro-Yo shop. That’s the most action you’ve got all semester.” Khloe jokes.

“Alrighttt, not to much on me and my sex life. I’m going through a drought.” You defend yourself.

“Well, from where I was standing, it’s due to get pretty wet.”

“Shut up!”

You and Khloe head to your favourite spot and eat your frozen yogurt like you did most nights. Side by side on the grass, watching the sunset.

Your phone pings from in your pocket and you pull it out seeing a notification from Instagram.

paigebueckers started following you.

Another notification came through almost instantly.

paigebueckers: its meant to be

“Damn, she’s quick.”

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊✧˚ · .

a/n: please let me know if you have any requests, id be happy to do them! 💋

[jamminvroomvroom]

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

-

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

-

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.��� he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

-

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

-

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

-

i feel so warm inside hehe

-

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :)

[harrysfolklore]

omg i have a question for the bitchy carlos fic -

so nicole piastri came on red flags podcast recently and spoke about oscar and his childhood, what if there’s an au segment of her talking about older piastri & what would his reaction be

okay this turned out being way longer than intended bc i added the scene of carlos and nicole meeting bc why not, i hope i'm not annoying you with too much little bitch content, i'll promise i'll post for other drivers now READ LITTLE BITCH HERE

Host: "So, Nicole, we've heard a lot about Oscar's journey to F1, but what can you tell us about his relationship with his sister, YN? She has quite the personality online, doesn't she? Can you tell us about their relationship growing up?

Nicole:"Oh, those two. They've always had such a special bond. YN is a few years older than Oscar and yes, she's known as the Piastri who fights people online, but she's always been fiercely protective of him. From the moment YN first held Oscar as a baby, she appointed herself his protector. It was adorable and sometimes a bit much, but always came from a place of love.

Host: Can you give us an example?

Nicole: "When Oscar was about six and YN was maybe nine. Oscar had just started school and was having trouble making friends. He was quite shy back then, if you can believe it. One day, YN overheard some kids teasing Oscar in the playground."

Host: "Oh no, what happened?"

Nicole: "Well, YN marched right up to those boys and she told them off in no uncertain terms. She said, and I quote, 'My brother is going to be a famous race car driver one day, and you'll all be asking for his autograph. So you'd better be nice to him now!' The boys were so shocked they just stood there with their mouths open."

Host:"That's amazing! Did it help Oscar?"

Nicole: "It did, actually. Oscar was so impressed by his big sister standing up for him that it gave him a confidence boost. And you know what? Some of those boys ended up becoming his good friends. They still joke about YN's 'prophecy' coming true now that Oscar's in F1."

Host: "That's such a heartwarming story! It's clear YN has always been protective of Oscar. Now, speaking of relationships, we've heard that YN is dating Carlos Sainz. Can you tell us a bit about how that came to be?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's an interesting story! YN actually told us she was dating Carlos a while back, but we weren't surprised at all. We knew she liked him since that time in Singapore last year when our family visited. YN was trying so hard to act mad about Carlos' win, but it was obvious she was impressed."

Host: "So you had suspicions before they even got together?"

Nicole: "Absolutely! Even before that Singapore trip, YN used to go on these multiple rants about, in her words, 'this arrogant Spaniard' who kept pushing Oscar off track. She called him something I won't repeat but I'm pretty sure everyone knows it, it absolutely irritated her. But you know what? We all knew that deep down, she had a crush on him."

Host: "That's quite the turnaround! Have you met Carlos — as YN’s partner this time — yet?"

Nicole: "I haven’t, actually. I’m hoping to do that in Baku after the summer break. But I can see Carlos brings out a softer side of YN that we don't often see in public. Don't get me wrong, she's still fiercely stubborn and outspoken, but with Carlos, there's this gentleness that comes out. He seems to really understand and appreciate her passion, and he's not intimidated by her strong personality at all. In fact, he seems to admire it."

Host: "It sounds like they complement each other well. How has Oscar taken to their relationship?"

Nicole: "Oscar's been very supportive. I think he appreciates seeing his sister happy, and of course, it doesn't hurt that Carlos is someone he respects on the track. It's actually quite funny to see YN now, cheering for both Oscar and Carlos during races. She's always torn between wanting Oscar to win and not wanting Carlos to lose."

Host: "That's nice, Carlos sounds like quite the gentleman. Has YN picked up any Spanish since they started dating?"

Nicole: "Oh, that's actually a funny story. We love to tease YN about this. You see, she failed Spanish in high school - couldn't conjugate a verb to save her life. And now here she is, dating a Spaniard! Carlos has been trying to teach her, but let's just say it's a work in progress. She can now order a beer and ask where the bathroom is, so I suppose that's progress!"

Host: "That's hilarious! I'm sure she'll be fluent in no time."

Nicole: "Bless her, she's really trying. She's determined to have a full conversation with Carlos' parents in Spanish by the end of the year. We'll see how that goes!"

liked by oscarpiastri, carlossainz55 and 498,646 others

ynpiastri our queen is here !! and no one is ready

tagged: nicolepiastri

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username1 NICOLE PIASTRI IS THE MOMENT

username2 SLAY THE HOUSE BOOTS DOWN

mclaren Icon 🧡

lilyzneimer the besttttt 💓

username3 IS SHE MEETING CARLOS ??

username4 oh i can’t wait to see our queen giving carlos a run for his money again

landonorris Coolest ever

↳ ynpiastri her favorite will always be yuki don’t even try it

↳ username1 HEEEELP

yukitsunoda5511 Nicole is brat

↳ username2 I LOVE THEM 😭

oscarpiastri I’m ready, your boyfriend however…

↳ username3 LOOOOORDDD

↳ username1 POOR CARLOS

↳ ynpiastri leave him alone 😤😤

Baku had a special energy during race weekends. The tight streets and high-pressure atmosphere gave you a mixture of excitement and nerves, but today, the butterflies in your stomach had nothing to do with the Grand Prix. Instead, it was about the lunch you were about to have, where Carlos would meet your mom—officially, as your boyfriend this time.

You walked through the paddock with Carlos by your side, his hand wrapped around yours. Oscar was a few steps ahead, casually walking toward the hospitality area where no other than Nicole Piastri waited. She had met Carlos briefly before, like many of the other drivers, but this was different. He wasn’t just a name on the grid anymore—he was the man you were dating, and Carlos seemed to be nervous about the meeting.

"You think she likes me?" Carlos adjusted his hat for what felt like the hundredth time, his thumb brushing over your knuckles.

"Carlos, she’s going to love you," you couldn’t help but smile at his nerves, "She already does. But, you know... as a mum, she's entitled to give you a little hard time."

"That’s what I’m worried about," Carlos chuckled, but his smile was still tight, "I just want to make a good impression, you know?"

"You will," you assured him, squeezing his hand. "Just be yourself."

Oscar slowed down, overhearing your conversation and grinning like he already knew how this would play out. "Mum’s gonna grill you, mate," he teased, throwing a glance back at Carlos. "She’s been waiting for this."

"Not helping, Oscar," you muttered, giving your brother a playful shove. He just smirked, clearly enjoying himself.

When you finally reached the hospitality tent, your mom was already seated at a table, smiling warmly as she saw you all approach. She stood up to greet you, wrapping you in a familiar hug before turning to Carlos with that same welcoming smile—though you knew there was a glint of mischief behind it.

“Carlos, it’s so good to see you again,” she greeted, shaking his hand.

"It’s great to see you too, Mrs. Piastri," Carlos said, his polite smile fixed on his face. His Spanish charm was dialed up a notch, but you could still feel the slight tension in his grip as he held your hand.

“Please, call me Nicole,” she said, taking her seat again. “I’m not that formal, especially not with my daughter’s boyfriend.”

As you all settled into your seats, you couldn't help but notice the amused glances Oscar and your mom were exchanging. You knew that look—they were up to something.

"So," Nicole began, her eyes twinkling with mischief, "how long have you two been together again?"

You glanced at Carlos, who seemed to relax a bit as he answered, "About two months officially, right, cariño?"

You nodded, but before you could add anything, your mom raised an eyebrow. "And unofficially?"

"Mum!" you said as you felt your cheeks heat up.

Oscar, who had taken a seat across from you, let out a low chuckle, clearly enjoying the show. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching the dynamic unfold.

"That’s what I thought," she teased, making Oscar let out a loud laugh.

You felt your face grow even hotter as your mom's implications hung in the air. Carlos, to his credit, managed to maintain his composure, though you noticed a slight redness creeping up his neck.

"Well," Carlos cleared his throat, his accent a bit thicker than usual, "I think it's safe to say we've known each other for quite some time now."

"Oh, I remember. You two weren't exactly friendly at first, were you?"

"That's putting it mildly, Mum," Oscar snorted, "Remember the time she came home absolutely fuming after a race? She was ranting about 'that little bi—'"

"Oscar!" you cut him off, "We don't need to relive that."

Carlos squeezed your hand under the table, clearly amused. "No, please, I'd love to hear about this."

"Oh mate, you should've heard her," Oscar spoke again, "'Carlos this, Carlos that.' I swear, she talked about you more when she hated you than she does now."

"I did not!" you protested, but your brother's knowing smirk told you he wasn't buying it.

"It's true," your mum added, her eyes dancing with laughter. "I remember thinking, 'This girl protests too much.' I had a feeling even then that all that anger was hiding something else."

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. "I can't believe this is happening."

Carlos wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "It's okay, hermosa. I love to hear these stories."

You looked up at him, seeing the warmth in his eyes. It was hard to believe that those same eyes had once glared at you across the paddock.

Nicole smiled, watching the two of you with that familiar mom look—part teasing, part proud. "Well, now look at you. I guess all that bickering was just a cover-up for how much you liked each other."

"You’ve gone soft," Oscar rolled his eyes dramatically. "I kinda miss the days when you’d call each other names."

"Don’t worry," you muttered, giving Carlos a playful glare. "He’s still a little bitch sometimes."

Carlos laughed, his arm tightening around you as he kissed the top of your head. "And you’re still my favorite enemy turned girlfriend."

Your mom let out a satisfied sigh, leaning back in her chair. "I knew it all along."

[storiesforallfandoms]

herogasm ~ soldier boy;the boys

word count: 3678

request?: no

description: in which she’s trying to leave the supe orgy, just to stumble into the room of the man who started it

pairing: soldier boy x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (fingering, praise, unprotected p in v), mentions of herogasm (the event, not the episode)

masterlist (one, two, three)

I didn’t want to be there. There was a number of reasons why, but the most prominent one was definitely that I did not want to be involved in an orgy full of Supes.

My best friend, Maria, had convinced me to come. I had gone through a pretty hard breakup that left me basically inconsolable for days. I only left the house to go to work, and even then I was very much just operating on autopilot. Maria wanted to get me out of the house, so she came over and told me she had gotten an invite to some big Supe party and intended to take me with her to get my mind off of things.

She didn’t tell me until we showed up that the “party” was the infamous Supe orgy known as “Herogasm”.

Apparently, Maria had hooked up with a Supe who had an in to the party. She got the invite and thought an orgy would be the perfect idea to get me over my breakup. There was just one little flaw in her plan: I was not an orgy person. I was insecure enough about my body that I felt awkward being naked in front of one person, let alone an entire house full of strangers. Supe strangers at that.

Maria abandoned me the minute we walked through the door, taken by the Supe she fucked to get here. I was left, on my own in the corner, while a lot of naked people walked or fucked around me. A couple glanced in my direction, one even tried to proposition me, which I politely declined. I wasn’t sure how long I was stood there before everything became overwhelming. I needed to get away from all those people. I needed to be somewhere with no moaning or screaming or sex noises. Somewhere that I could calm myself down before I left.

I stumbled through the house, feeling my heart pounding harder and harder with every overwhelming second that passed. Behind almost every door I could hear more moaning and squelching. It felt like there was no true escape from it - there was even people fucking outside - until I turned the knob on a door that led to a seemingly empty room. I stumbled in, slamming the door behind me and sliding down it until I was sat on the floor. I brought my knees up to my chest and rested my head against my knees.

“Well, hello there.”

I jumped at the sudden sound of someone’s voice. I looked up to see I had hidden myself away in a bedroom. The main bedroom, I concluded, judging by the huge size of the room, the bed, and the fact there was a mini bar in the corner of the room. A mini bar with a man stood behind it. A very handsome man in nothing but a silk robe.

“Shit,” I sighed. “I’m sorry, I - ”

“No, don’t be sorry,” he said. “Judging by the fact that you still have clothes on, you’re not here for the orgy.”

I shook my head. “One of my friends brought me here. She didn’t even tell me what it was until we pulled up.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment before stepping away from the mini bar. I tensed up as he got closer to me. I was trying to figure out if I’d get out fast enough when he reached me. He reached over me and turned the lock on the knob.

“Stay as long ad you want,” he told me. “Not that anyone usually comes in unannounced anyways. I think you’re the first person to stumble into my room in years.”

My eyes widened as he started walking away. “Y-Your room? So...you’re the host here?”

He turned back and raised an eyebrow at me. “You serious?” I nodded. “I created this whole fuckin’ thing. Herogasm is my baby.”

That’s when it finally clicked. “Holy shit, you’re Soldier Boy!”

He grinned at me before he took a sip of his drink.

I couldn’t believe it. I had stumbled into the room of the most famous Supe in the entire world and I didn’t even recognize him at first! God, this couldn’t get any more embarrassing.

“You don’t have to huddle up by the door like a scared kid,” he said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

I wasn’t sure if I could take his word for it. I knew he was a Supe and all, and Supes were supposed to protect people, but he did have me locked in his room, while he was naked no less. Well, besides a robe. I’d be helpless against him if he did decide he wanted to hurt me.

Despite knowing this, I still slowly got to my feet. He was pouring up another glass as I walked further into his giant room. It was like the size of my living room and kitchen combined. I was in awe of it so much that I could hear Soldier Boy chuckling to himself. He extended a glass to me and gestured to the bed. I took the glass, hesitantly, and sat down.

“What is this?” I asked.

“Bourbon,” he responded. “Some of the best shit money can buy.”

I wasn’t much of a drinker. I could smell the strong, alcoholic scent before even raising the glass to my lips. I took a small sip and immediately cringed at the stinging feeling that ran down my throat. Soldier Boy laughed.

“That’s God awful,” I groaned.

“You just don’t appreciate fine alcohol,” he said.

“I appreciate it when it doesn’t taste like battery acid,” I retorted. “What are you doing in here, anyways? If you created this...thing, shouldn’t you be partaking?”

He grunted and took another mouthful of his own drink. I figured that was the best I would be getting from him.

“How did you get in?” he asked. “It’s invite only, and usually the only non-Supes invited are hookers.”

I looked down at my glass again, debating on taking another sip. “My friend hooked up with a Supe who gave her the invite. She lied at the door and told them I had been invited, too.”

“Then she ditched you?”

I nodded. “Probably getting her pussy super-stretched as we speak.”

That made him laugh. I felt some sense of pride at that. The most famous Supe in the world was laughing at my jokes. That had to be bragging rights.

“Sounds like a shit friend, then,” he commented.

“No, she is a good friend. She’s very...sexually liberated. This type of thing is very up her alley. Me, not so much.”

“Then why did she take you here?”

I gazed down at the glass of auburn liquid. The memory of my recent breakup brought back all my negative emotions. With one swift gulp, I finished the contents of the glass. I shuddered as it burned down my throat.

“My boyfriend of four years dumped me,” I said. “Just woke up one day and told me he didn’t feel the same way anymore. After we had just moved in together a few months prior.”

Soldier Boy whistled. “That sounds rough.”

“It was the worst fucking day of my life,” I muttered. “Maria, my friend, I guess she thought a super-sex party would be the best way to get me to move on. The best way to get over someone is to get under someone else, and all that.”

“That never works. Trust me.”

Oh, there was a story there. I could tell. One that was probably connected to the reason he wasn’t participating in his own orgy. Normally, I wouldn’t pry. I didn’t know Soldier Boy. He would probably forget all about me once I left his room. But the bourbon was starting to get to me. I found myself leaning forward, close enough that I could smell his aftershave.

“What happened?” I asked him. “What made you not want to participate in Herogasm?”

He looked at me. I could tell he was debating on telling me. I wasn’t sure if I should push the issue further than those questions, even if my curiosity was getting the best of me.

Finally, he sighed and said, “My girl left me because of one of these things.”

Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I couldn’t even remember who Soldier Boy’s “girl” was in that moment.

“We used to host together,” he explained. “Once a year, we would allow each other to fuck whoever we wanted at Herogasm. One night, one meaningless orgy, and that was it. Then, a few years back, she comes to me the day after Herogasm and she tells me that she met someone that night. I don’t know, I guess they talked in between the fucking or some shit. She dumped me on the spot for the guy. Took all of her shit and left that same day.”

Okay, definitely a lot worse than my sob story. My ex completely shattered my heart, sure, but he didn’t leave me for someone else. Especially not someone that he fucked in our own house, during a party that we were hosting together. Even if they had an agreement that they could sleep around during Herogasm, that was a huge hit to trust. One that I don’t think I would’ve ever gotten over in his shoes.

“Since then, I haven’t participated,” he continued. “I’ll host, since it’s my creation, but I usually just walk around, make sure everything is going okay and everyone is having a good time, then I hide away in here until everyone gets too tired from the fucking and either leaves or falls asleep.”

“Why keep hosting it if you don’t want to participate anymore?” I asked. “Why not hand it off to someone else?”

“Because it’s my thing. I created it, and it got bigger than I could’ve ever imagined. I thought about cancelling it after Countess left me, but it’s become this huge thing to Supes and their groupies. I don’t want to disappoint anyone by cancelling it, and I wouldn’t want anyone else stealing it from me and making it a shit version of what it used to be.”

Before I could respond, there was a bang against his door. We both jumped and turned towards the door. Judging by the rhythmic beating on the door and the shouts of pleasure, it was just a couple that had decided to use Soldier Boy’s door as another fuck place. I chuckled and turned back to him. My laughter died out, though, once I realized how close we had gotten to one another. My face was mere inches away from his. I could feel the warmth of his breath on my face. The closeness made my heart start pounding a little harder.

The alcohol had definitely kicked in because I did something that was very unlike me in that moment: I leaned forward and kissed him.

He was receptive right away. His free hand moved to hold the back of my head. His lips moved perfectly in time with mine. His tongue slid against my lower lip, asking permission for entrance, and I gave it to him. I let my empty glass fall to the floor, luckily the fall being cushioned by a rug next to his bed, while he placed his on the nightstand next to the bed without breaking our kiss. In one swift movement, he moved me so that I was straddling his lap, not once breaking our kiss.

His hands explored my body, running down the sides of my torso, to my hips, then over my ass. He grabbed the meaty flesh there, rocking my hips forward unintentionally (or maybe it was intentional) against him. His cock was growing hard and I could feel that the tip was starting to peak out from his robe. Suddenly, I felt very overdressed compared to him, and I wanted to change that.

I broke away and Soldier Boy watched with lust filled eye as I pulled my shirt over my head and discarded it onto the floor. I stood from his lap to unbutton my jeans and let them fall to the floor. I stepped out of them and stood in front of him, just in my lingerie. Realizing how naked I was, I felt a little shy suddenly. Like I wanted to cover myself up or make all the light in the room disappear so that he couldn’t see me. But when he pulled me forward again, standing me between his open legs, and leaned forward to start kissing over the exposed skin of my stomach, the insecurities melted away into desire again.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Don’t you dare think of hiding this beautiful body away from me.”

I was shocked that he knew what I was thinking, but I didn’t have time to figure out how he knew. His hands were on me again, pulling me down onto his lap and then quickly turning the two of us so that I was laying beneath him on the bed. I could feel him pressing against my inner thigh as he kissed me again, a pool of wetness starting to fill in my panties.

He moved one hand between my legs, opening them up for him, and ran his finger over the clothed material. I gasped and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth again.

“You’re already so wet,” he noted. “How long has it been since you were touched?”

The answer was a bit embarrassing. That probably should’ve been the first sign that my relationship was going downhill, but I was too naïve to notice that we hadn’t been having sex. Or maybe just too blind to the downfalls of my relationship.

When I didn’t answer, he pulled my panties to the side and slid a finger into me. The sudden protruding felt painful at first. I dug my nails into his arms hard, but didn’t leave any marks or didn’t seem to hurt him in any way. He slowly started thrusting his finger in an out of me until the pain turned to pleasure, and then he added a second finger.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he commented. “That asshole must not have stretched this pussy out in a long time. Either that, or he had a microdick.”

His fingers gained speed. I could hear them becoming wetter and wetter every time he thrusted them inwards. I was well beyond cloud nine, probably cloud twenty at this rate. Whenever I opened my eyes all I could see was stars, and Soldier Boy’s face watching me as I came undone beneath him. He was an expert in ways I could only dream of, reaching places I didn’t even know could feel so good. He had me on the edge of my orgasm, when suddenly the pleasure was ripped away as he pulled his fingers from me.

I whined, trying to reach for him to get the feeling back. But he pulled away from me, putting the two fingers covered in my slick into his mouth and sucking them dry.

“You taste just as sweet as I thought you would,” he said.

“Please,” was all I could manage. It almost sounded pathetic how desperate I sounded.

He smirked down at me. “I’ll give you what you want. I just want you to cum on my dick instead of on my fingers.”

He sat up and untied his robe, throwing it to the floor along with the other discarded clothes. His cock finally sprang free, standing at attention against his stomach. My eyes widened at how big he was. I should’ve anticipated it, I figured most Supe men were probably well hung, but it a shock none the less. I wondered if I would even be able to take his whole length.

He spit on his hand to lube himself up, moved my panties to the side again, and then lined his tip up with my entrance.

“Ready?” he asked. I nodded and he began to push into me.

My gasps and moans filled the room as he slowly slid into me, inch by inch, almost at a painfully slow rate. I felt so full with him completely inside of me. I could feel the burn of him stretching me out around his girth, but even the burn felt like pleasure. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pulled him back down to me. I kissed him again, hungrily, desperately, and he got my silent message to start moving.

His thrusts were slow at first, testing the waters. It felt so good to feel him pushing in and out of me. His dick was so long that I could feel it not only poking my g-spot, but absolutely abusing it with every thrust. It sent shockwaves of pleasure through me that I wasn’t even sure I had felt before. My head fell back onto the pillow, letting moans tumble from my lips as they felt the need to.

“F-Fuck,” I breathed. “S-Soldier Boy.”

“Ben,” he said, not breaking his pace. “Call me Ben.”

“Ben,” I moaned instead. Definitely a better name to say in bed. “Fuck, it feels so good.”

“Yeah? I think I can tell.”

I didn’t have to open my eyes to know he had a cocky smirk on his face.

I ran my hands from his shoulders down his toned back to his ass. I gave it a squeeze, urging him to go faster. I could feel my high coming back, and I desperately needed to chase it. He did as I wanted and his thrusts became faster, rougher. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with my moans and his grunts. He took hold of my legs and wrapped them around his waist, giving himself a better vantage point for his rough thrusts. I screamed out as his dick pounded against my g-spot, bringing me closer and closer to the edge.

“I can feel you’re close,” he said. “I can feel this fucking pussy getting tighter. Cum all over my cock. You can do it, beautiful, I know you can.”

His words of praise and encouragement sent me toppling over the edge. Stars exploded from my vision as my body trembled and convulsed around him. It was the hardest I could ever remember orgasming in my life, and it was definitely the best orgasm I could remember having. I felt like I was flying off of the bed and high into the sky, never to return to Earth again.

If it weren’t for Ben above me, still thrusting and whispering words of praise into my ear, I probably would’ve thought I had actually floated away.

His release came shortly after my own. I could feel his dick twitching inside of me before he was coating my walls. His arms tightened around me as he rode out his own orgasm, grinding into me until he has squeezed every last drop into me. He pushed himself up so he could look down at me again.

“You look fucking gorgeous after being filled with my cum,” he commented.

I felt myself grow hot at the compliment, but my body felt too heavy to cover myself.

“Are you...are you on the pill or anything?” he asked. “I probably should’ve thought of that before, but I was kind of...busy. I can get you a plan b. We have plenty of those lying around for this day.”

I lazily shook my head. “I’m good. I’ve been on birth control since I was a teenager. Besides, I don’t think Supes can reproduce, can they?”

“We’ve been unsuccessful in that field thus far. Thank God.”

I started to chuckle, but it turned to a gasp as I felt him pulling his soft cock out of me. Even when it was soft, it was big. I could hardly believe all of that fit inside of me.

He took hold of my panties and pulled them down my legs, gazing at the mess he had left between them.

“That’s a fucking beautiful sight,” he commented. I rolled my eyes and tried to close my legs, but he quickly held them open. “No, let me see this for another little bit at least.”

“You’re fucking weird.”

“You just fucked me, what does that say about you?”

He eventually climbed back into his bed next to me. I could still hear the orgy raging on outside of the door. I chuckled to myself, causing Ben to look over at me and arch an eyebrow.

“I fucked a Supe at the Supe orgy,” I explained. “But just one Supe, and it was the guy who created the whole fucking thing. I was planning on leaving when I stumbled into your room.”

“Well, thank God you didn’t.”

He put an arm around me and pulled me into his chest.

“Maybe getting under someone does help you get over someone,” I said. “I don’t even remember my ex’s name now.”

His chest vibrated as he laughed. “That is a good thing. If you find yourself remembering, though, you know where I live. You can always come over and I’ll help you forget again.”

I looked up at him. “Really? This wasn’t a one time thing?”

“I don’t intend for it to be. Did you?” I shook my head. “Okay, good. Since we’re on the same page, my offer still stands. Although, the offer actually extends to any time you want to come over, for any reason. Not just for some rebound sex.”

“That’s a dangerous offer. In a house this big, a bed this big, I might never want to leave. I might just live in this bed, honestly.”

“Is that a threat or a promise?”

We both laughed as he pulled me in to kiss my forehead. I made a mental note to thank Maria for dragging me to the super-fuck party when I finally found her again. Turns out, it wasn’t such a bad time after all.

[woso-dreamzzz]

The King

Patri Guijarro x Putellas!Reader

Summary: Patri think you're the king of Barcelona

There was barely a few minutes between you and Alexia.

You were older by five minutes but Alexia was taller and the one that everyone assumed was older.

She was La Reina and you were La Princessa, at least to the fans.

She was midfield. You were leftback. She weaved through opposition lines, scoring goals and securing assists while you were a rock at the back, part of Barcelona’s brick wall.

You and your sister practically did everything together regardless of whether or not the two of you were having another one of your petty arguments.

“La Reina!” Patri cheers as Alexia’s corner ball comes in and is neatly turned into the net by you,” La Reina and…”

You turn to look at her, jogging backwards on your way to celebrate with your sister.

“And…” Her throat is suddenly dry as you grin at her.

You look glorious in that moment, jogging backwards, so self-assured as Alexia jumps onto your back.

“And El Rey!” Patri finishes off and somehow your smile widens.

“No more La Princessa?” You tease and Patri just nods.

“Er…yeah,” She says lamely,” La Reina and El Rey. The Putellas sisters.”

“I like it,” Alexia says, still on your back as she ruffles your hair,” My little sister, El Rey.”

“I’m older than you!”

“But I’m taller!”

Alexia laughs as she slides off your back, a kiss pressed atop your head before she moves back to her position.

You shake your head fondly at her before turning to Patri.

“It’s nice for you to upgrade me,” You tease as the match ends,” El Rey. I like that.”

“I..er…” Patri doesn’t want to admit to making a mistake, to being so overtaken by your beauty that she’d gotten tongue-tied. “I thought it was time.”

“Well thanks,” You say, bumping her hip with yours,” I’m going be milk this so much.”

And milk it you did.

So did the club.

La Reina and El Rey.

The superstar sisters of Barcelona.

People called out ‘El Rey’ just as much as ‘La Reina’ and you’d taken your new moniker better than when Alexia first took hers.

You sister was also taking your new nickname better than when she first took hers.

“Ale,” You groan as she tugs you away,” They were fans!”

“They were trying to get in your pants!” Alexia shoots back and Patri’s glad, for once, about how protective your sister is over you. “I won’t let them!”

“Let them. Ale, I’m-“

“They only want to sleep with the famous El Rey! They don’t want you for you! I won’t let you sleep with someone who doesn’t want you for you!”

“As nice as that is, Ale-“

“No! I won’t! Don’t argue with me!”

“I’m not going to argue,” You say, meeting Patri’s eyes,” Trust me. I’ll only sleep and date people who want me for me. Not El Rey.”

“Good!”

You watch your sister flounce away.

“So, how long are we going to wait?” Patri asks,” To tell her, I mean?”

You grin, sidling up closer to Patri so you can speak directly in her ear over the roar of the crowd. “I was waiting for her to catch on. She seems to be fighting invisible suitors though, can’t see what’s directly in front of her.”

You lace your fingers with Patri’s and you know all of the fans recording this will just write it off as being close friends. You’d always been the more physically affectionate of the Putellas sisters. Alexia showed her affection through slight violence, she always had. When you were younger, she used to tug on your pigtails and squeeze your face or give you a swift little tap on the head.

It wasn’t to be mean and it was never true aggression. It was just Alexia’s way of expressing her love for you.

In contrast, you were full of affection. You gave out hugs liberally as a child and loved holding hands. Kisses were a bit more withheld but only slightly. Family got your kisses and close friends.

It was probably why Alexia hadn’t noticed you and Patri yet.

That evening when she’d bestowed your new nickname, you’d asked her out, suddenly emboldened by the way she got so flustered around you. Despite the way that she’d tried to hide it, you’d noticed it immediately.

Noticed Patri immediately.

Nearly four months later and you were still going strong and Alexia still refused to see what was right in front of her.

You’d like to say it was because you were hiding it, that you and Patri were being so secretive and sneaky. But you weren’t.

Everyone else had caught on from practically the moment you’d gotten together.

Already, you’d been on four separate double dates with Mapi and Ingrid, a further two with Marta and Caro and one with Alexia and Olga, though your sister had thought it was just you and Patri tagging along. Olga had gotten the message loud and clear though and congratulated you in the toilets.

“Yeah, well Alexia’s always thought that you had a stream of potential girlfriends following after you,” Patri says as your sister signs one of your shirts for the fans with narrowed eyes,” But then again, everyone wants to date El Rey.”

You bump your hip against hers. “But only one person gets to.”

[luveline]

you asked for marauders so how about rockstar!sirius? i love a good reunion fic

He’s sitting at the back of a dimly lit restaurant with friends. One you recognise, Remus, but the rest you’re unsure of. Sirius has the remarkable ability to make friends in every city of every country and in each continent; you can’t possibly keep track of them all. You can barely keep track of him, though he tries his best to tell you. 

Going to a restaurant tonight called The Lucky Rabbit for dinner, Remus says they have rocky road? Seems a bit shit. Love you, see you in sixteen days 

You get a message in similar fashion each night, the days until you’ll see one another counting steadily down. There are days where you don’t get much more than that, he’s got a hate-hate relationship with his phone, and while you don’t blame him, you miss him. 

He calls you most mornings, at least. Yesterday’s had been particularly sweet, because Sirius was sweet, and he doesn’t tend to be, not when you’re out of arms reach. 

“I wish I could see you,” he’d said, something muffled about his voice as though he’d been speaking with his lips to his pillow, “wish you were here. I don’t know… I miss you a lot. I didn’t expect it to feel like this.” 

It used to be terrifying when he’d say stuff like that. Your famous boyfriend, confessing affection down the line to a total loser with nothing to give him. Now it just makes you want to kiss it better. 

You text Remus quickly to ensure that it’s a good time. Hi, I’m at the door. 

He pulls out his phone and grins. I won’t look in case I give you away. Do you need me to take some of the boys? 

That would be nice, but, Maybe you can drag him out for a cig? you text. I’ll wait in the smokers area? 

No problem

You rush for smokers' hutch and sit alone on a bench under a fabric covering. It’s the evening, shoes shiny in the dark, the winter cold nipping your fingers as you cross your arms around yourself. 

“Sorry,” you hear Sirius say, far away, getting closer, “I’m not trying to be a dick.” 

“You’ve never had to try very hard.” 

“Funny. Can I have one of those before I go blind?”

“You can’t be that desperate,” Remus laughs. 

“I can’t have what I’m actually craving,” Sirius says, a twist of feigned drama, just the tiniest smidge of genuineness somewhere threaded within as they make their way onto the veranda. “I didn’t know you could miss somebody like this.” 

It’s really sweet, and you’re usually more awkward, but for once you get it right. “Welcome to my world,” you say. No malice nor snark, you don’t have it in you when you’re with him, but certainly some irony. 

Sirius turns his head fast enough to make you wince. 

“I miss you like that every week,” you further. 

“No way?” He grins at you, fully grins at you, the goofy kind he’d normally only share with you when you’re in bed together and he’s forgotten to hide it. “Aw, baby, no way.” 

You’re swept up before you know it. He practically collapses into you, squeezing you, apologies whispered frantically into your ear as he stands and drags you with him. You hardly remember to stand, feeling at the slope of his back and the starched fabric of his jacket, assuring yourself that he’s really in your arms as you hug. 

“No way,” he says a third time, “what are you doing here? Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I would’ve picked you up.” Your spine creaks under his squeezing. 

He leans back. You follow him, not willing to part just yet. “I told Remus,” you explain. 

“Bastard.” 

“Should I go back in?” Remus asks. 

You’d say yes, because you’re not overly fond of being seen in love, but Sirius doesn’t answer, and then neither of you can as he takes your face into two hands to kiss you grandly. His smile is a rigid line against your lips, so wide you can feel his teeth as he struggles to keep a plain expression and kiss you as he wants to. Your back sags in relief. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, pulling away abruptly, “you must be so tired. Are you hungry?” His hands fall softly down your face to your shoulders. “Thank you for coming.” 

You startle. “You’re welcome, it’s– it was selfish, not totally for you, I missed you too much to wait two more weeks.” 

“Two weeks and two days,” he says. 

“That’s contrary,” you tease lightly. 

“No, the two days makes a fucking difference.” Sirius puts his arm behind your shoulder and turns you to Remus, almost like he’s showing you off. He opens his mouth to speak, but he loses the words, dropping his face to give you a kiss tight to your chin. 

It tickles. When you laugh, he does it again.

“Fuck, I’m glad you’re here. I was starting to lose it.”

“You could’ve asked me to come,” you say, beginning to trudge in time with him toward the restaurant doors. 

“Will you come with me for a bit?” he asks. 

Will you follow your lovely boyfriend for a bit on his nice tour eating good food and watching him at his best from the side stage? You tip your head to the side to ask for another ticklish kiss, which is enough answer for him. 

[mywritersmind]

CAT PARENTS - LN

pt.1

summary : A kitten is all it takes to get two strangers in the same bed for the night. Lando likes how she doesn’t know him, Olivia likes the cat that he’s trying to take from her.

warnings: just lando, olivia, and juna being cute!

word count : 1541

⋆ ˚‧｡⋆

“Oh my god!” I practically scream when I see the cat on the side of the road.

“Oh shit!” Someone grabs the cat before I can even get close. I look up to see who just stole this beautiful creature from me and am a bit taken aback.

He’s not too tall, but quite cute. He's got curly hair that’s cut into a baby mullet and a gray t-shirt that shows off his arms that are holding the kitten.

He blinks at me, making me realize I've been staring for probably too long, “That’s my cat.” I say quickly.

“Oh?” Fuck, he’s got an accent.

“You’re british?” I may have had a few drinks tonight, considering we are on the side of the road in Miami, the cat and the accent are throwing me off.

“You got that from one word?” He looks at me, confused, “Did you really bring your cat to go out and party in Miami?”

“I- No…” I glance back to see my friends who are still in line at the club, “But it’s the cat distribution system!” He laughs at me. LAUGHS.

What the fuck?

The cat snatcher sits on the curb, the cat pushing against him to get away. I sit next to him and snatch the cat right back. “She’s so cute!” I squeal as it stays still in my arms, meowing.

“Tell me more about this… cat distribution system.” I explain how people keep finding cats and it’s meant for them. He’s easy to convince, a good listener as well.

“Right then. I have to bring her home.” He sighs as if it’s a big issue.

“What? You mean I have to bring her home?” I hold the kitten closer to my chest, her light and dark brown fur brushing against me.

He frowns, “I found her first.”

I scoff, “She clearly likes me more. And I saw her first, you just got there quicker.”

He shakes his head, “Love, I still picked her up first.”

I furrow my brows, “Well, Love, You’re a random man and Juna and I don’t know you.” the kitten meows as if she agrees.

“Juna!? You can’t have already named her!”

“Ever heard of Clairo?”

“Okay- I’m Bob. What's your name?” He holds out his hand. I don’t take it.

“Bob?” I let out a laugh, “If you think I believe that, or would let you take Juna with that name, you’re on something.”

There’s something about the small smile he pulls that makes me feel weird and warm. He runs his hand through his hair, his ring catching the light, “My name is Lando.”

“Okay, Lando.” I roll my eyes, “Odd name but better than Bob. Why did you lie?”

His face scrunches up, “You honestly don’t know who I am?”

“Clearly not. If you’re that arrogant then I bet you’re not even known.” He smiles at this and stands up, offering me his hand.

I take it, standing and pulling down my black mini skirt as I do so. “She looks hungry.” My stomach growls at the exact time he says that. “So do you.”

I don’t know what to do. I’m staying with my friend this weekend and she is allergic to cats. I have no car and definitely not enough money to go buy things for a kitten. “Let’s go then.

I register that he’s speaking to me, “Excuse me?”

“If you won’t let me take her then we’ll have to go together.”

His words are what landed me in a pet store twenty minutes later.

I assured my friends that I would be okay and Lando made his friends prove he’s not some freak. His friends met mine and showed his instagram which made them agree way too quickly. He didn’t let me see it.

I gathered that he must be pretty famous or at least rich considering the McLaren we got into could not have been cheap. I saw him cringe when Juna had an accident in the front seat, yet he stayed quiet.

We’ve got Juna in a huge bed in the cart; food, treats, and toys surrounding her. “You never told me your name.” Lando pushes the cart down an abandoned isle, rightfully so since it is five minutes until closing.

We’ve been so busy that I honestly forgot I don’t actually know Lando.“Olivia.” I give in, “Liv, to my friends.”

“Alright Liv, are you from here?”

“Woah- we are not at friend status.” I shake my head, crossing my arms and shivering. I am still in platform boots, a mini skirt, and tube top. The few people working are shooting me dirty looks.

“Come on…” He frowns, leaning against the cart.

“Tell me your deal, then maybe I'll let you.”

“A fact for a nickname? I’m down.” He places the items, minus Juna, on the register. I explain my money situation but he doesn’t even think twice before he swipes his card. After we’re all back in the car he turns to me.

“I’m a driver.” He starts the car.

“Like a limo driver? Lando, you're not very good at this game.” Juna sleeps in my lap after she devoured a can of food and some water.

“A formula one driver…” He pulls out of the parking lot.

I know nothing about the sport except that it’s loved by my father and rich european people. “I don’t believe you.”

He eyes me and hands me my own phone that he’s carrying, “Lando Norris.” He says his last name.

“Quite the name you’ve got. Meant for fame, I fear.” He tries to hide his smile but he’s shit at it. I bite my lip and put my phone down, “I don’t want to look you up.”

“Why?”

“I want to learn about you, from you.” I shrug.

“Alright Liv…” He grins as he uses my nickname, “What do you do?”

I sigh and lean back in my seat, “I work in movies.”

“Really?”

I nod, “Yup. Mostly set design and some background stuff but one day I want to produce my own.” He listens intently, “So Lando… Why did you become an F1 driver?”

We go back and forth like this for thirty minutes until he pulls up to his hotel.

“Oh…” I look up at the fancy building, “You really want to bring a cat up there?”

He doesn’t say anything, just hands off his keys to the valet and grabs all the bags, leaving me with Juna. I’m amazed at everything we see, even the elevator is fancy with a big mirror that reminds me to wipe my under eyes that have mascara on them.

We walk to his room and as he opens the door for me my jaw drops, “Fuck, Norris.” I look around the huge room. It’s got a king sized bed, a bathroom with a tub and a shower, a couch, a huge TV, and the most beautiful view of the ocean.

“I won my first race here. Get a bit of special treatment.” he says like it’s the most casual thing ever.

He shuts the door and dumps everything onto the floor. We end up making a little space for Juna since we’re convinced we will lose her in this room.

Lando is in the bathroom when I text my friends about my night. They ask if he’s kissed me yet and I blush to myself, quickly explaining that it’s not that kind of night.

I’m laying on the floor, next to Juna when Lando walks back in, wearing only sweats. My eyes catch on his tanned and very fit body. “Forgot my jumper…” He says awkwardly, throwing on a blue dior hoodie as I look away and pretend to not have checked him out.

He lays on his stomach, petting the kitten's head and not meeting my eyes as he says, “If you wanna change, You could borrow some of my stuff.” I think I'm going to melt right there.

I check the time, “No… I really should go.” I sit up and he does with me.

“What?” he looks almost… sad? “You can’t leave Juna though.

“I know… But you can deal with a kitten alone.” I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave.

I don’t want to leave Juna.

I don’t want to leave Lando.

“Can I?” He raises a brow, “If you really want to go that’s fine. But… It’s late. And an Uber would be expensive. And it’s no trouble! Really you can take the bed.”

“Ok.” I say a bit too quick. His smile makes my heart skip a beat. Shit. Friends, Liv! Friends! Remember!? His adorable face and hilarious personality just comes as a bonus. “But you don’t have to sleep on the floor.” I laugh, “You can take the couch with Juna.”

He smiles and shakes his head, throwing a menu to me, “Order whatever, I can hear your stomach growling.”

-

note :

i love this story sm!! pt.2 coming soon!