#im gonna go stare at this for a few hours now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sunrizef1 · 4 months ago

Text

Milk and Sugar

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Not edited, cursing maybe, the ex gf isn’t anyone specific don’t @ me

Summary: Max is tired of his persistent ex girlfriend and friends that are maybe a little too empathetic about his breakup. What better way to scare them off than getting a new girlfriend? But he doesn’t actually want a new relationship. Enter: you. The perfect (fake) new girlfriend.

Word Count: 9.6k

Authors Note: this fic was kicking my ass im gonna be so fr. It took forever and I just couldn’t write the ending for some reason. Hopefully now that this is up, I can do something else lmfao

You were just doing a favor for a friend.

Or that’s what you had told yourself when Max had originally asked you to go along with his stupid idea. You hadn’t even really wanted to agree, by the way. He had just needed your help so badly and that’s what friends are for, right?

So that’s how you’d ended up in his garage, Red Bull hat pulled tightly over your head as you watched his car sail around the track in Brazil, the season well under way.

You’d met Max a few years back. You’d moved into the apartment next to his, not even blinking as your eyes scanned over the future world champion, too focused on your dog trying his best to distract you from the heavy box in your hands.

“Apollo! Stop!” You sighed at the dog as he jumped at your legs, trying his hardest to knock the box full of dog food and treats out of your arms. The dog, not knowing English, didn’t listen, of course, continuing his assault on your calves.

The box tilts in your grasp, coming dangerously close to falling out of your arms. But suddenly, the weight is lifted away and Apollo seems to turn his attention to whatever had relieved you from your struggle, giving you the opportunity to pull the small dog into your grasp, trying your best to calm his rowdiness down.

Once you’ve gotten the dog to calm down a significant amount, you look up to see who’d saved you from hours of cleaning loose dog food off the floor during your first day in your new apartment. You’re met with bright blue eyes staring back at you, a concerned look on the strangers face.

You’re too worried about the pretty man in front of you to even worry about Apollo as he starts to nibble lightly on your jacket.

“Are you okay?” And then he speaks for the first time and you’re captivated. Not in a love-at-first-sight way, of course. More of a this-guy-might-be-perfect kind of way.

You nod, gently separating your dogs mouth off your hoodie string, petting his, most-likely, empty head warmly, “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. This little guy just really wanted that food, I guess.”

The stranger laughs, moving the box in his arms to rest against his hip, “I’m more of a cat person, anyway.”

You fake a wince, shaking your head with a frown, “Ahh, guess we can’t be friends then, mysterious stranger. Im a dog person all the way.”

He laughs again, grinning warmly, “Any way I could help you with this? Can’t imagine it’s easy moving in with a dog running around.”

Your eyes widen at his words, your hand fumbling to fish the key to your new apartment out of your pocket, “Only if you’re free! I wouldn’t want to bother my new neighbor on my first day.”

Your neighbor shakes his head, light brown hair falling down on his forehead, “It’s no big deal, I’m surprisingly free today.”

You smile, pushing the door to your apartment open, setting Apollo down as you enter. The dog immediately starts to scope out the area, bounding up and down the halls, his collar jangling loudly as he does. You hear the man enter behind you, watching as he walks over and places the box of dog food on the counter in the kitchen.

“Usually I learn a man’s name before I invite him into my apartment,” you smirk, laughing as a blush coats your neighbors face. He takes the few steps back over to close the gap between you, sticking out a calloused hand toward you.

“I’m Max.”

You smile, repeating his name before reciting your own, clasping your hand in his much rougher one, tilting your head up at him as you shake, letting go after a few moments.

“It’s nice to meet you max,” you say, smiling as you see Max’s face light up happily, “How inclined would you be to helping me get the rest of my boxes?”

Max laughs as he sees the sweet grin on your face, shaking his head as he moves toward the door, “I’d love to help, y/n. Can’t have my new favorite neighbor moving in alone, can I?”

Your face splits into a grin as you follow him toward the exit, turning to make sure Apollo was comfortably inside the apartment so he wouldn’t try and run away before closing the door behind you.

Max did help you that day, the moving in process going substantially quicker with the help of the athlete. He even invited you over to his place for dinner, explaining that it’d be too much of a hassle for you to make dinner after moving in all day. You didn’t bring up the fact he’d been moving all day as well, simply following him next door instead.

That had been three years ago and you’d been friends ever since. It was a casual friendship, more moved by the proximity than anything else.

He’d had to explain f1 to you, you being completely unfamiliar with the sport despite having moved to Monaco, probably the place with the most connection to it. Now, you’d casually watch his races as you worked or ate dinner, not entirely sure what was going on but supporting your friend anyway.

He’d also eventually asked you to watch his cats for him, Jimmy and Sassy being surprisingly friendly with your puppy. Max had been scared about introducing them, prefacing with many statements about how much the cats hated dogs and that it really wouldnt be a problem if you couldn’t watch them if they hated each other.

All that talk went out the window when the first thing the pets did when they met each other was take a nap.

It was January when it happened. You had been sitting calmly in your apartment, watching Bridgerton and eating pasta, your work computer abandoned to the side of the couch. You had a blanket pulled over your lap, a hot mug of tea sitting on the coffee table in front of you. Rare snow fell softly outside your window, albeit not very much snow but snow nonetheless.

You were very content.

This, of course, all came crashing down when you heard the sound of your apartment door banging open, heavy footsteps signaling the arrival of your neighbor. You’d given him a key for emergencies, although you couldn’t possibly imagine what could warrant an emergency at this time.

You roll your eyes as you hear him approach, setting your pasta down on the table and grabbing the remote to pause your show, turning as Max throws himself down on the couch next to you.

“Hello, Max. Can I help you?” You sigh, trying to force a smile onto your face. Max seems to catch your discontent and grimaces, wincing away slightly.

“Bad time?”

You let out a breath, not able to stay mad at the Dutch man for very long, “Maybe a little, but it’s fine, really. Did you need something?”

Max nods, sitting up straighter, “I may or may not have a formal request. Neighbor to neighbor.”

You furrow your eyebrows at his response, noting his slightly nervous behavior, “Okay?”

He takes a deep breath before speaking, his eyes trailing over toward where your tv was currently paused, “You know how I just went through that breakup, right?”

You hum, all too familiar with the aforementioned breakup, having had Max barge into your apartment for comfort food and movie marathons more than a few nights in the wake of his, now ex, girlfriends departure.

“Well,” Max starts and you can sense the hesitation in his tone but considering he had interrupted your night, you opted to let him flounder, “It’s been weird on the grid since then.”

“Okay,” you hum, eyes glancing over his face and catching the way he grimaces.

“Ever since the break-up, all the guys have been looking at me like I’m a child, you know? Like I might fall apart any second. Even though I’m completely fine!”

You stare, knowing more than anyone else, that he wasn’t very fine for a while, although he’d miraculously recovered over the past few months. You also stared in hopes he’d soon get to the point of the conversation.

“They also keep trying to set me up with their friends as if I need a rebound when I would really rather stay single,” Max groans, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. Your furrow your eyebrows, wondering where this could be going.

Max glances up, eyes avoiding yours at all costs, “I was wondering if you could, maybe..”

Max trails off, wincing slightly. You stare straight ahead at him blankly, waiting for him to finish his request. He does eventually mumble something under his breath and you lean forward, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry?”

Max grumbles, annoyed and you roll your eyes at the attitude of the man disrupting your own night.

“Could you pretend to be my girlfriend for a while?” Max rushes out, hands carding through his hair nervously, “Just long enough for the guys to leave me alone, you don’t even have to do anything, maybe just come to Brazil and Monaco-“

Max continues to ramble on for a few seconds, words seeming to fall out of his mouth unceremoniously before he’s cut off by you interrupting him.

“Max!” You raise your voice slightly in an attempt to talk to over him. Max freezes, looking at your face for the first time since he’s crashed through your front door, “I’ll do it.”

He stares at you blankly for a few moments, trying to process your words, “Really?”

You shrug, teeth digging into your lip as you turn your head toward the large window across the room that overlooked the darkened city of Monte Carlo, “Why not? You’re my friend. Plus I work remotely and who doesn’t want to travel around the world to all those different cities?”

Max’s face lights up at your response, his lips forming a huge grin. He rolls over into a lying position, practically star-fishing on your couch, “Thank you so much! I owe you one.”

You hum, fighting the smile on your lips as you watch him close his eyes calmly. You slip up from the couch quietly, padding over to the kitchen to grab something.

“Where are you going? Did I scare you off already?” You hear Max call as you walk away. As you walk back over, his eyes are still closed though, signaling that he didn’t really think he’d scared you off.

He does open his eyes as you set the bowl of leftover pasta and a fork on his chest before grabbing your own and sitting down, grabbing the remote to press play. He glances over as you settle into the couch and move your blanket over your lap before he sits up. You take a bite of your pasta as you continue to watch your show. Max takes a second but he eventually digs in as well, sitting up in order to grasp the bowl better.

Even after the pastas finished, you both sit back on the couch in order to finish the show. You glance over at Max, his eyes still locked onto the screen.

What had you gotten yourself into?

————

“Are you ready?”

You take a deep breath, trying to steady yourself as you sit in the passengers seat of Max’s car, the hoards outside having no idea what was waiting for them inside. You slide your sunglasses onto your nose, hoping they’d hide at least a little bit of the anxiety flowing through you.

You nod, turning your head toward Max in the drivers seat, “Yeah, I’m good.”

Max hums, not entirely convinced but also aware he had no other option but to believe you considering he’s the one who’d asked you to do this. He opens his door, stepping out and sliding his own sunglasses on. You watch as he walks around the front of the car before stopping in front of your door and pulling it open. You pause for a moment but eventually step out, trying not to wince as the bright sun hits you.

You immediately step into his path, falling into stride next to him as you both walk toward the entrance. You hear the car lock behind you and watch Max pocket the keys.

The bright Miami sun beats down on your skin, causing you to wish you’d opted for a thinner shirt. Max had originally proposed for your first race to be Monaco but you had decided it was better to appear earlier than later for his sake. Plus, you’d always enjoyed Miami and were up for the idea of traveling there. You’d also originally planned to buy your own plane tickets but Max was quick to shut that one down.

As you both approached the turnstiles, Max pulls his lanyard out of his pocket. You don’t even notice as he pulls you inside the paddock, too busy trying not to notice the cameras surrounding you. Flashes come from all around you, the incessant clicks echoing through your head.

You finally do notice that Max hasn’t let go of your hand after he pulled you into the paddock. You grasp his hand a little tighter and he pulls you closer into his side as a response. When heat starts to rise to your face, you decide to blame it on the Miami sun.

As you both walk toward the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn to watch you walk by. You can feel people’s eyes trailing after you, locked on your unfamiliar form. Everything new in the paddock very quickly became a spectacle. Especially when it involved the current world champion.

You’re sure you’ll see pictures of yourself splashed all across the internet when you wake up in Max’s hotel room the next day. You’re sure your mom will send you whatever article they’ll attach your name to, no doubt hounding you for information about your new celebrity “boyfriend”.

You’d been curled up in Max’s hotel room the whole weekend, occasionally dipping out to get food with him between events. He’d wanted you to come to the track since Thursday but you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to step out as “Max Verstappens new girlfriend” until you’d woken up Sunday morning.

You’d woken up before Max, somehow. As you laid in your plush hotel room bed, you could hear Max’s soft breathing from the other bed filtering through the silence of the morning. Just outside the window, the city of Miami was waking up. At least, the early birds were.

You and Max had slept in the same room enough over the years, Max randomly crashing at your place pretty often, that when he suggested you getting a different room, you’d immediately turned him down. You were telling yourself it was just because it was nice to have the comfort of a friend but something deep down knew that that wasn’t the only reason.

You let the only sounds be his breathing and the light hum of the air on unit for a few more minutes while you woke up. You slid out of the bed as silently as possible, your feet padding quietly against the carpeted floor. You pull the door open to the balcony slowly, stepping out before closing it behind you. The sun is still pretty low in the sky but it still makes you flinch as it seeps into your eyes.

You sink into one of the two chairs out on the balcony, pulling your knees up to your chest and resting your chin on top, letting your thoughts run wild.

You watch Miami move below you, the sun slowly shining down brighter and brighter, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink.

You weren’t entirely sure why you’d agreed to this idea so quickly. With every day that passed, you wished more and more that you hadn’t. Doubt seeped through you with every second you watched Max from the hotel television. He was just so good at his job and such a cool, wonderful person and athlete. How could you keep up with him? The press would be insistent and non-stop invasive. Fans would, no doubt, dogpile on you as well, both warning to know everything about you as well as rip you apart. You start to wonder if there was a single positive of this for you.

The door slides open behind you and you can hear Max moving onto the balcony beside you. You don’t glance over, only moving your gaze away from the skyline as a mug is held in front of your face. You glance down at it, spotting the coffee inside before you grasp the mug out of his hands gently. The ceramic warms your hands, the steam from the liquid splaying across your face.

“There was only those little creamer pods,” Max hums as he takes a sip of his own mug, leaning against the bannister in front of you, “Hope that’s okay.”

You chew at your lip, taking a sip of your own mug, humming lightly as your gaze locks on his back, “That’s fine, thanks.”

You’d usually take your coffee with milk and a spoonful of sugar but you’d had enough gas station or hotel room coffee that you’d be able to survive with just the creamer pods.

You watch Max’s side profile as he stares out at the city, the sun bouncing off the edges and planes of his face and perfectly lighting up his eyes. You bask in quiet that settles between you, sipping at your coffee periodically. You don’t quickly forget the kindness of his gesture. Actually, the action stays in your head for longer than it probably should, mind running wild as you think about his motives.

You dismiss it, though, not wanting to linger on something that probably meant nothing.

“You coming to the race today?” Max turns around to face you, his back leaning against the rail he’d just been looking out over.

Your eyes trace him as he turns, evaluating his early morning form. As you look at this man, your friend, you think about the coffee in your hands. You think about the times he’d dogsat Apollo despite hating dogs, the days he’d come over just to keep you company when you were homesick, when he’d attempted to cook you soup when you’d been sick despite his complete inability to cook soup, you even think back to the first day you’d met when he’d helped you move in despite having known you for all of thirty seconds.

As all those memories passed through your mind, you suddenly remember why you’d agreed to do this in the first place.

“Yeah, I am,” you reply, taking a long sip of your coffee and hiding your grin as one of his own makes its way onto his lips.

————

That had been earlier that morning and know you were sat in Red Bull, watching as Max’s car passes the finish line in second. You’d been biting your nails the whole time, worry seeping through you. You weren’t the biggest formula 1 nerd but Max had forced you to watch enough old races for you to get what was going on. You’d even started watching his races when he was gone, something that had taken you months to admit.

Because of Max’s insistence, you knew enough to grimace as the safety car came out. You were right to grimace, of course, as Lando was quick to pass your friend, taking the lead and the win. Max, for what it’s worth, didn’t seem too angry about the result. You were aware of Landos lack of wins, seeing why his winning would make everyone happy, even the losers. Not that you were too happy, you’d only ever and only ever would cheer for Max, even if Lando was deserving of a win of his own.

Max doesn’t get asked about you during interviews. At least, not directly. He gets asked how life had been and he answers with a vague answer about love and how great life has been. You know he’s talking out of his ass but you’re grinning anyway, not able to hold back you mind from thinking about a world where everything he was saying was true.

“Landos gonna have a big celebration,” Max starts as he gets back to you after the podium, walking you both back toward his room so he can change, “He’ll probably be awake for the next 72 hours.”

You smile lightly, resting a tired head against his sweaty shoulder, “Good for him, seems like he really deserves it.”

Max nods with a pleasant look on his face, “Yeah, I’m not even that mad about losing. Nothing I could’ve done really. Im just glad he got his win.”

You nod, taking a breath in order to hold back the yawn threatening to leave your mouth, “You should go to his party, I’ll just go grab some dinner and head back to get some sleep.”

You both stop as you reach his room, Max facing you as he leans back against the door to open it. You notice the deep furrow in his eyebrows as he locks eyes with you, “What are you talking about?”

You furrow your own eyebrows as a response, tilting your head to the side, “You should go celebrate with your friend? Go have fun, Max!”

He shakes his head as he enters the room, quickly gathering his things to go take a quick shower, “Why would I celebrate a loss with a coworker when I can get some quality time with a friend instead? I’d rather celebrate a win with you instead of a loss without you. Trust me, you’ll be there to see me win.”

You’re already at a loss for words at his response but your rendered speechless as Max pulls his fireproofs off, tossing the shirt to the side passively. He turns away from you and you watch his muscles ripple under his skin, your face hearing greatly. His arms flex as he reaches for something and you have to bite your lip to keep your mouth closed. Your eyes are wide as he turns to glance over his shoulder at you, “That okay?”

At the risk of sounding like an idiot if you attempt to respond with words, you simply nod, eyes moving toward the floor. You don’t notice the smirk that forms on his lips as he catches your stare.

“I’m gonna shower and then we can leave,” he calls out over his shoulder as he walks into his bathroom. Your eyes are still locked onto the floor. You hear the sound of water pattering against the floor just after the door shuts.

You take a large sip of your water bottle, trying to wet your drying throat and keep the heat in your face at bay. You feel like you might be going crazy, the image of Max’s shirtless back etched into your mind.

Jesus Christ.

————

“What do you wanna watch?” Max mumbles through a mouth full of pizza, his hand coming up to covering it as he speaks.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

Max shrugs as well, grabbing the remote off the nightstand and passively flickering through the channels as he swallows his bite of pizza, “Come get some food.”

He gestures toward the box of pizza on the edge of his bed with the remote, glancing toward you sitting in your own bed, watching him instead of the tv. You slide off the bed, taking the few steps it takes to get to his own and gently settling on the side he wasn’t currently sitting on.

Max watches you move, humming as you grasp a piece from the pizza box before he turns his attention back to the screen. You don’t notice as he settles on a movie, too busy trying not to absolutely scarf down the food in your hand.

Your eyes do leave the slice to glance over at Max, legs outstretched with his back firmly against the headboard. He’s wearing a Red Bull hoodie, even managing to wear team merch in his own bedroom. He’s also got some old basketball shorts, a faded logo sitting on the upper thigh that, no matter how much you try, you can’t understand.

You look away when you hear the familiar sound of Lightning McQueen echoing out of the television speakers. You quickly catch sight of the Italian formula car, deducing that Max has chosen Cars 2, of all movies.

You try your best not to laugh but a giggle escapes you anyway, causing you to bury your head in your shoulder to try and hide your grin.

“What?” Max asks you and you look forward again, eyes locked onto the movie, “What’s so funny?”

Your head turns toward the driver who’s grin is now matching your own, “You chose probably the only movie on here that uses the words “Grand Prix” can’t even get away from racing in your hotel room.”

He feigns offense for a few moments before reaching forward to grab another piece of pizza and sliding down into more of a lying position, “It’s a good movie.”

You both turn to the screen for a few moments but the second Lewis Hamilton’s voice rings out in the silence, you laugh loudly, Max groaning beside you.

You quickly dissolve into giggles, trying your hardest to reign it in but when you look over and see the amused frown on Max’s face, you’re right back into it again, Max laughing in response.

You both do eventually settle down, watching the movie and eating your food together. Even after the pizza box is empty and max moves to set it on the table, you don’t move from your spot, using the reasoning that it’s just easier to see the screen from his bed.

You try not to notice the proximity between you. You’d been holding hands all day and you’d pressed several kisses to his cheeks and forehead, being near him shouldn’t bother you. But when you shift slightly closer just to get more comfortable and Max’s arm falls down over your shoulder, you freeze, keeping as still as you can.

He doesn’t move his arm through the rest of the movie. Not that you’d know, considering you drift off with about half an hour to go. But Max doesn’t notice that either, considering how he fell asleep just after.

You wake up before him again the next morning, don’t the same thing you’d done the day before and walking out to the balcony. Max does the same thing he did as well, walking out with two mugs grasped gently in his grip.

When you take the mug from him, you try not to think about the fact you’d woken up limbs tangled with his and your face pressed into his chest.

————

The São Paulo Grand Prix.

It had been 6 months of this charade with Max. That’s right, you’d managed to suffer through 6 whole months of pretending to be his girlfriend. There’s been countless headlines from various news sites, trying their best to figure out every single detail about your life and relationship with Max.

The only thing keeping your mind together was the root of the problem himself and your prolonged roommate, Max.

He was actually really lovely. Every time you suggested a different room for his sake, you’d end up right where you were the week before, in a bed across from his. You’d also kept the same morning routine every day, waking up before Max and sitting out on the balcony until he brought coffee out for both of you.

He’d eventually gotten to a point where he sat in the chair next to you as opposed to standing up and leaning against the railing. There was still little conversation, though, you both enjoying the silence of an early morning instead.

This specific morning, you were watching the city of São Paulo move along below you. Goosebumps raised slightly as the wind-chilled November air nipped at the skin on your arms. The sun hadn’t completely rose yet and the previous nights rain had left the air colder than it should’ve been. You found yourself rubbing your hands over your arms and wishing you’d worn something other than a t-shirt.

The door slides open behind you and you take the mug as it’s placed in your eye line, grateful for the heat of the mug to warm up your cold hands. You lower your face toward the mug, letting the steam warm up your wind-chilled skin. You go to take a sip but it burns at your lips when you tilt the mug, causing you to set it down on the small table in order for it to cool for a few moments.

After you set it down, something lands in your lap. You look down, holding the item up and quickly recognizing it as one of Max’s Red Bull hoodies. You glance over at him but he’s still looking out over the city below, sipping passively at his mug of black coffee.

You look back down at the item of clothing, glancing between it and the owner for a few seconds before deciding to slip it on, your cold skin winning out over any reasonable thought that would tell you not to wear it.

The hoodies too big for you and it smells like Max but you don’t really seem to mind either of those things. Especially as your skin heats as the fabric passes over it.

Once you’ve got the hoodie on, you pick up your coffee again, blowing on it slightly to cool it down. You raise the cup to your lips, letting the warm liquid flow into your mouth.

You hum at the taste, quickly noticing that it tastes different than usual. You furrow your eyebrows, taking another sip. The oh-so wonderful taste that you’d missed so dearly over the past 6 months takes over your tastebuds. The taste of real milk and sugar.

You hum pleasantly, grasping the cup tightly. You glance over toward the man who’d handed you the drink, “Is this milk and sugar?”

Max glances toward you for a split-second before he looks back over the city, taking a sip of his own coffee, “Yeah, that’s how you like it, right? You always drink it like that back home.”

You ignore the jolt in your stomach when Max refers to the Monaco apartments as a shared home. You bite your lip with an affirmative hum, “Where’d you get milk and sugar?”

“Couldn’t sleep last night, went for a walk. There’s a corner store down the block and I picked some up,” Max says it casually, like it’s not the most considerate anyone had been of you, maybe ever.

You stare at him for a few moments, trying to ignore the warm feeling in your chest as you imagine him thinking about you enough to buy coffee ingredients the way you liked them.

As you sat outside, in his hoodie, sipping on the coffee he had made and handed to you, you finally accept what you’d been trying to deny for six months, if not longer.

You were in love with Max Verstappen.

You longed for the domesticity that was so present on mornings like these. You wanted to live this life with him all the time. You didn’t just want to fall asleep beside him after a race but you wanted to be able to press your lips against his when he won instead of the light touches you’d flutter against his cheek. You wanted to wear his hoodies all the time, not just when you were cold and forgot one of your own. You wanted to stop pretending in front of his friends. You wanted the hushed whispers to be sweet nothings instead of scheming and planning.

You wanted this life with him. All the time.

“Max-” you start but you’re quickly cut off by Max as he speaks instead.

“My ex is going to be at this race,” he states and you close your mouth, deflating slightly as you look away, “Just wanted to prepare you in case we run into her. You could also, um, probably stop coming once you scare her off.”

You nod meekly, taking a sip of your coffee. What had once been your idea of a sanctuary with the silence of the morning is now too quiet, allowing your thoughts to be the only noise in your head, images of Max’s ex rolling around aimlessly.

You stand up quickly, taking rushed steps back into the room. You down the last sips of your coffee and slide it onto the table, moving hurriedly around the room to gather your things for a shower. You vaguely notice Max walking back into the room with a confused look but you don’t even look up as you rush into the bathroom, “I’m taking a shower.”

“Okay?” Max says as you close the door behind you. You don’t notice the frown on his face as he disappears from view.

You’re too busy throwing off his hoodie and turning the shower to practically scalding heat, trying your hardest to rid yourself of thoughts about a life with Max, thoughts of his ex-girlfriend or thoughts about the stupid coffee he’d handed you and how stupid you were to be reading so much into it.

For a moment there, you’d thought that Max was enjoying this as much as you were. But his words were quick to remind you that you were only there to do a favour for him. He is only there to get his friends and his ex off his back. After that, you were free to go. It even vaguely sounded like Max didn’t want you to come back around the next weekend.

Why else would he have said that? Why else would he have suggested you stop coming? Especially just after talking about his ex. It was a stark reminder that you were only a tool for him to mess with his ex. She was the one he’d loved, you were just a girl he knew.

You stay under the scalding water long enough for the mirrors to fog and your fingertips to prune. Your cuticles sting from where the hot water had made its way into the raw skin, the cuts still fresh from where you’d been anxiously picking at them.

You only pull yourself from the water when you start to sway from the heat, your head going light and an ache echoing through your skull.

————

A few hours later, you’re by Max’s side again, although there’s a slightly larger distance between you than usual.

That would change soon, no doubt, when Max spotted his ex, pulling you close to attempt to show his devotion to your fake relationship.

But for now, you're an arms-length away, hoping that pushing him away would also push away your own feelings.

Max can't grasp even an idea as to why you were acting like this. Did you really want this to be over that badly? He knew he'd mentioned the idea of your… situation ending but he didn't think you'd be this eager to get away from him.

At the first camera flash, you take a step closer to Max, knowing how even the smallest hint of discontent between you would be twisted for headlines and it would end with your concerned mother calling you fifty times to check on your relationship after seeing an article on Facebook.

So you step closer, reaching over to intertwine your hands. Max doesn't resist and you try not to read into the gentle squeeze he replies with.

Brazils nice. Or at least, you assume. You'd been too distracted to take much notice. But you do notice the fans yelling from all around. Lively crowds sway and shout in the distance, hues of blue and black and orange all represented amongst the groups.

Max leads you through the paddock, determination clear in his steps. It was most likely just his own determination not to talk to anyone, especially a certain ex-girlfriend.

You both get to Red Bull without an unwanted interaction and the second you're out of the public eye, you're dropping his hand, none the wiser to the confused look on the driver's face.

The tension's palpable in his small room. Awkward conversation flows, your words biting and curt. Neither of you wants to address the obvious undertones your words contain. One of hostility and unshared secrets. But you manage to survive until Max has to leave to get ready for the race and you follow just a few minutes later, making your way to watch said race.

The race is fine. Max wins, but you were never in doubt about that. He was starting from pole, it'd be pretty hard for him to lose. Lando finished just a few seconds behind him, having closed the gap a bit after getting past George.

As the team starts to leave to go greet Max, Christian Horner pulls you along, saying something about Max wanting you at the barrier after the race. You're sure its just so he can put on a show for his ex.

But you follow along anyway, trying not to stumble in your heels as Christian walks along a lot faster than you'd want to.

You pass through other teams and friends and guests or the drivers, waving slightly at people you’d gotten to know over the past six months. The thought of not seeing any of these people again after you and Max faked a breakup made your stomach hurt but you ignore it, trying to tell yourself it was for the better.

When Christian reaches the team, he guides you both through the crowd, smiling politely at the engineers as he slides by.

It seems you both reach the barrier just in time, as Max is parking when you come to a stop. You watch as he pulls himself out of the car, cheering a bit to the fans around as he stands atop it. When he pulls off his helmet and balaclava, you try your hardest not to smile at the pure joy on his face.

He glances over his shoulder at something you can't see before he turns and catches your eye, quickly moving in your direction. Before you can even say a word, he's set his helmet down and wrapped both his hands around the sides of your face, pulling it toward his own. His lips are warm, the heat of the race still emanating off of him. You dismiss the sweat in his hair as you wrap a hand softly around the nape of his neck, tangling your fingers in his locks. Your other hand rests on the side of his face, your thumb tracing the marks his helmet had left around his eyes.

You pull away first, glancing up into his eyes with a gentle smile, “Good job, you did amazing Max.”

His face heats and he glances away with a light chuckle, “Thank you, baby. I'm glad you're here.”

You wish he'd stop calling you that. At least for the sake of your heart jumping in your chest every time he does.

He looks away but your eyes are still firmly locked on the side of his face, tracing the familiar path around his features that they'd forged over the past six months. The same path they took every morning when you watched him look out over whatever city you were in that weekend. The same path they took when he fell asleep first during a movie in hopes of memorizing every detail before you slunk back into your own bed to fall asleep, the image of his face still etched into your mind.

But as you stare up at Max, trying to memorize the puzzle pieces of his face while he talks to Christian, you realize how futile of an endeavour it is. Not matter how hard you try, you'll never get the slope of his nose just right in your memories. You'll never get the right shade of turquoise for his eyes. The sandy-dark-blond of his hair will fade away until it was nothing in your mind but the shade of your coffee in the morning instead of the colour of his hair.

Maybe you should find a different apartment. Surely, Monaco had a different apartment complex that was far enough away from Max to rid yourself of the incessant thoughts of him that constantly plagued your love-adled brain.

Throughout all of that, you’d almost forgotten you were in love with him.

But when Max turns back to you, a glint in his eyes and a bright smile gracing his lips, you're suddenly all too aware of that fact.

“I’ll see you in a minute, yeah?”

You nod, smile slowly drifting as he walks away to get weighed and do all the usual post-race theatrics.

Christian pats his hand on your shoulder firmly, smiling as you turn around, “Let’s get to the podium, kid.”

You let Christian lead you away, yet again making his way through the crowd to get you both to the front.

The podium celebration is cute, Max’s happiness practically contagious. Lando and George are enthralled as well, the Brits both happy to back on the podium once again.

But when Max leans over to spray the champagne on the team, you put your hands over your face as Christian laughs beside you, both of you trying to avoid the sticky liquid as much as possible.

You peel away from the crowd after Max walks off, trying to find your way to wherever Max had gone.

As you'd left, you'd wandered away from Christian, who knew the paddock much better than you did. This was your first time here and you found yourself looking around for any sign of the Red Bull driver or, at least, a familiar face who could point you in the right direction.

It takes you a few minutes to gain your bearings but when you hear the familiar sound of Max’s voice, you go that direction, turning a corner to see his face.

And you do see him, post-race glow and all. But it's not just him you find. Standing entirely too close to him with her hand resting on his shoulder, is Max’s ex-girlfriend. She's smiling warmly, nodding animatedly at whatever it is Max is saying. Which, from constantly talking to him, you know is not worth the reaction she's giving him.

He's glancing around, clearly not comfortable with the situation. You huff, looking around before conceding and walking over to the pair. Were you maybe taking your time a little bit? Yeah, but you really didn't want to do this.

You roll your eyes when you catch Max’s eye and a relieved look rolls over his face, “Hey, baby.”

Max uses your arrival as an excuse to take a step back, swinging his arm around your shoulder. He's still covered in champagne and sweat but you ignore it, “Hey, Max.”

You finally glance up to meet the eye of the woman in front of you, her eyes narrowed as she looks between you, “Oh my god, hi! You must be Max’s ex!”

She rolls her eyes before smiling tightly with a nod of her head, “Yeah, I am. You must be his new girlfriend.”

You hum affirmatively, smiling wide as you glance over to the man beside you, “I am, yeah. He's just so perfect. We’re so happy together!”

She narrows her eyes again, glancing you up and down before her eyes stop on your face. You roll your head to the side to rest your temple on his shoulder, resting one of your hands against his chest.

“Well, I’m happy you moved on, Max,” She says, turning her entire attention to the man in question, “You seem… perfect together.”

Max gleams, nodding as he leans in to kiss your cheek, “Yeah, I’m really happy.”

His ex chews on her bottom lip for a few moments before huffing and moving away, turning to shout over her shoulder as she walks away, “Have a great life, Max!”

“Thanks, I guess!” Max replies, laughing as soon as the woman is out of earshot. He pulls away from your side, turning to fully face you.

“Thank you!” Max cheers, grasping your shoulders with his hands, “Did you see her face? She was so pissed that I'd moved on.”

You hum, letting him be happy by himself while you stood quietly, “Yeah, you're welcome.”

You peel away from Max, turning to go back to the car park so you can leave. You don't say anything to Max before you walk away, leaving him to jog to catch up to you.

“You okay?” He asks once he's by your side again. You glance over, catching the concerned look on his face.

“Yeah,” you nod curtly, looking back ahead, “Yeah, I'm fine.”

He doesn't seem convinced but he leaves it be, turning away as well.

He pretends not to notice when you coincidentally step away after he tries to grab your hand.

While Max debriefs, you text one of your friends to ask if you could stay with her for a few days when you got back to Monaco. After this fake relationship was over, you needed to get away from Max for a while just to try and push away the growing feelings you have for the Dutch man.

And with the departure of Max’s ex, you'd served your purpose and you could finally get out of Max’s life and give him the solitude he so longed for.

The ride back to the hotel is quiet, the only noise being the sound of your nails tapping against the screen of your phone. Max glances over periodically but you eventually set your phone down, choosing to stare out the window as the dark streets of Brazil pass by quickly.

When you get back to the hotel, you open the car door before Max can get it for you like he usually does. He sends you another glance, trailing passively behind as you walk in front of him. You both pass through the lobby and the elevator, your steps determined and much quicker than Max really wanted to be walking.

He's still riding the high of his win and the defeat of his ex-girlfriend but you're in your own mind, too sick to your stomach to be happy for him.

You pull out the spare room key when you arrive at the room, pressing it against the sensor before shoving the door open roughly, letting it fall against Max behind you who catches it.

You toss the key on the table by the door and set your phone down beside it. You still don't turn around as you throw the jacket he had let you borrow down on his bed.

"What is your problem?" You hear Max’s voice ring out in the otherwise quiet room. Annoyance paints his words, causing you to pause for a split-second.

"I don't have a problem." You say, cringing when you catch how much of a lie it sounds. You move on, though, pulling your suitcase out from under the bed and unzipping it.

Max scoffs, raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Are you sure? Because it really feels like you do."

"It's nothing, Max." You reply sharply, walking into the attached bathroom, grateful to get away from his gaze for a second.

You come back out, your toiletry bag in hand. You set it down in your suitcase and stand up, walking over to the closet and pulling your clothes off the rack. The sound of the hangers hitting together echoes through your head, only contributing to the headache that had been growing since your revelation that morning.

Max finally catches onto what you're doing and speaks, his voice almost panicked, "What are you doing?"

"Leaving."

"What, already? Why?" You try not to be swayed by the hurt in his voice, turning around and walking past him to set your clothes down in your case.

He follows you over, stepping closer as you stand up. You try and step past him but he puts his arm out, stopping you in your tracks. You concede with a sigh, finally looking him in his eyes.

"It doesn't matter, Max.”

"But it does! What's wrong?" You finally step past him, on your way to go gather the rest of your things but his question makes you turn your head as you walk away.

"Max! It doesn't matter!" You immediately regret how loud your voice is but this wasn't exactly the time to be thinking about the people next door.

Max shakes his head, following you as you walk toward the doot in order to grab your shoes, "No, no, no. You've been like this all day and I can't think of a reason why. Do you really want to get away from me that badly?"

Your face twists, causing you to shake your head as you walk away, praying he wont follow you this time, "No, Max, that's not-"

He doesn't completely follow you but he does step a bit closer, shaking his head with a loud groan, "Then enlighten me! What could possibly happened in the past day that's making you act like this? Why are you leaving? Why won't you tell me? I thought we were supposed to be in this together! Why are you-"

"Because I'm in love with you, Max!" You shout, finally turning to face him as you say it, making eye contact with him for the first time since you'd walked in.

Silence falls between you and you toss your shoes down, covering your face with one of your hands. For a second, you think that Max might never respond, your stomach turning at the thought.

How hard could it be to find a different apartment in Monaco?

"What?" Max’s voice is soft and you look back to him, trying to will your frustrated tears not to fall.

"I'm in love with you! I fell in love with you and I know you don't feel the same. You only wanted me to do this to placate your friends and scare away your ex and now im getting out of your hair. I'm leaving you alone like you wanted in the first place,” Tears finally drip down your face and you don't bother to wipe them away, knowing there was only more where they came from. You look away as you explain, eyes locked onto the carpet beneath you, not wanting to face your embarrassment head-on.

"What are you talking about?" At Max’s purely confused tone, you look back to his face, teeth digging sharply into your bottom lip.

His face is soft, confusion etched into the furrow between his brows. Your stomach flips and you swallow, trying to rebuild the confidence you’d had at the start of your outburst.

The hotel room suddenly feels too cold, the air causing you to rub your hands over your shoulders in order to suppress the goosebumps that had started to rise. When you do speak again, your voice is soft, volume just above a whisper.

"This morning. You said I could stop coming after this race. And I did my job, I scared away your ex. You don't need me,” you trail off at the end of your statement, your voice breaking slightly as you shake your head, tears streaming out of your closed eyes and down your cheeks.

You expect Max to agree, to send you away, to end your friendship out of pure embarrassment after your decleration.

But he doesn't.

His voice is soft, just as yours was. His words are hushed but the emotion behind them seeps through every single word.

"I do, though. I do need you."

You look up, eyes widening at his statement. You can do nothing but stare as he steps closer, his hands grasping the sides of your face. Your own hands reach up to hold his wrists, just wanting to hold him someway.

He raises an eyebrow gently, quirking his head to ask for silent permission. You nod and its only a split-second before he's leaning down, pressing his lips against yours.

His hands cradle the back of your head, pulling you impossibly closer. Your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, his kiss causing your brain to practically melt. You mold together, leaning as close to him as you can as your hold conveys months and months of pent-up and hidden emotions.

As he pulls away, your lips want to chase his but you hold back, your eyes flickering open as he leans his forehead against yours. Neither of your speak for a few moments, silence settling between the two of you ask you bask in the adoration between you.

Max’s hand drifts back to your jaw, his thumb drifting across your cheekbone passively. You see his eyes look up and you glance up as well, catching his sparkling gaze in yours.

“I love you,” the words tumble out of his mouth, falling smoothly out of the lips you oh-so wished he would press against your own once again, “I'm in love with you. I fell for you during this whole thing, everything about you.”

You go to respond but he cuts you off, shaking his head lightly.

“I only told you that you could stop coming because I thought you'd grown tired of all this,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, leaning slightly into your hand that had drifted into his hair, “But I'm kind of glad I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, quirking your head. Max pauses, allowing you the chance to admire every feature of his face, turning his freckles into constellations that you'd willingly stargaze in for hours. His hair is tousled from where your fingers had tangled in it and his lips are red from being pressed against yours. His teeth dig into said lip as he thinks before responding. You'd honestly be fine if he never finished his thought and you got to just look at him forever.

But he does finish his thought, the look in his eyes making your heart jump, "Because I don't want to pretend anymore."

You wait a moment, giving him the chance to take it back in case this was a joke, in case he didn't really mean it. But he doesn't take it back, he doesn't laugh.

And so you nod, "I want to do this with you for real, Max. I don't want to lie to anyone anymore, I want to celebrate with you after a race, not because people expect me to, but because I love you."

Max lights up, his face splitting into a wide grin at your words. Before you can react, his arms are around you and your feet are lifted off the ground as Max basically throws you onto the bed beside you.

Your laugh echoes through the hotel room, punctuated by the sound of Max flopping down next to you. You continue to giggle, glancing down to meet Max’s eyes, a special glint shining through.

You calm down after a few seconds as Max continures to gaze at you. When silence finally comes over you, Max leans up to rest on his elbows as you sit up slightly to look down at him.

“I love you too, by the way,” He says softly, “Dont know if you noticed.”

You hum, biting your lip to hold back your laugh, “I assumed so, yeah.”

You laugh as Max huffs, reaching a hand up to pull you down beside him, “Shut up.”

And you do, going quiet as your lips meet his. Later that night, as your both lying in bed, together this time, you fall asleep with your head against his chest, basking in the long-lastint but newly-confessed love between you.

The next morning, you wake up before Max, as you'd done so often. You slip out of his hold and pad over softly to the balcony, sliding on one of his hoodies before you open the sliding door.

You sink into one of the two chairs, looking out over the city of Sao Paulo as it slowly wakes up. The sun peeks out over the horizon, adding light to the previously dark morning.

Eventually, the door slides open behind you and you don’t even have to look to know it’s Max. But you look anyway, happy to take any chance to observe the man.

You take the mug from his offering hand, grasping the warm ceramic tightly. Max doesn’t walk over to the railing, instead moving toward the chair next to you. Before he sits down, he slides it over, pushing it as close to your chair as it could go. He sits down and you twist to sit sideways, leaning your legs over the arm of the chair. Max gently pulls your ankles over his chair to rest in his lap before he takes a long sip of his coffee.

You take a long sip of your own mug as well, letting the taste of the coffee coat your throat and warm your heart.

Milk and sugar, just the way you like it.

——————

Tags: @evie-119 @casperlikej

#scheduled #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #formula 1 #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x reader

3K notes · View notes

under-art-reblogs · 2 months ago

Text

💕 AAAAAAAAHH!! 💕

Look at my pretty skeletal dragon girly!!!

(I'm imagining a vague one-shot using this piece as inspiration... who knows if I'll commit though)

This is an absolutely exquisite, breath-taking, gorgeous, stunning, lovely, magnificent, glorious, angelic, dazzling, divine, delightful, eye-catching, sublime, charming and glamorous MASTERPIECE!!

Thank you SO MUCH for all the work you put in to creating her and bringing this girl to life!

Commission for @under-art-reblogs

Thank you for the support, this was so fun to work on. ✨

#undertale #commission #my oc #drake monster #malachite #don't mind me #im just going to hoard this piece like a dragon with their treasure trove #im gonna go stare at this for a few hours now

195 notes · View notes

maybanksprincess · 20 days ago

Text

seven minutes in heaven

warnings: suggestive but no actual smut, mature themes, dry humping, tongue kissing.

summary: a game of seven minutes in heaven leads to reader and jj stuck in a closet together.

pairings: childhood!bsf!jj x childhood!bsf!reader

requested by this ask (thank you anon!) i dont know much about the game, so if i got one of the steps wrong, im sorry in advance.

you and the rest of the pogues gathered together on a saturday night to drink beers, smoke weed, and play spin the bottle. typical pogue shit.

all of you were sat in a circle on the carpet in the living room floor of the chateau. there was a glass beer bottle in the middle of all seven of you.

for a half hour, the game was spin the bottle. everyone's facial expressions quickly grew bored. John B, and Sarah were talking about something totally different, Pope and Cleo gone to grab a new crate of beers.

After a few more moments of all of you staring at the wall blankly, Kiara's the first to break the awkward silence. "hey what's that game we all used to play when we were sophmores?" she asks, twirling a piece of her curly hair around her pointer finger.

after kiara speaks, jjs facial expression changes to one of interest. he thinks for a moment and then speaks, "the one where you get locked in a closet for like ten minutes?" he asks

Pope rounds the corner with a few beers tucked in his arm. Cleo not far behind him "seven minutes." he corrects, pointing a finger at him.

jj rolls his eyes at the correction and mimics a mouth with his hand, mocking his words "seven minutes" he says, trying his best to sound as much like pope as possible.

you flick the back of jjs neck, mumbling a shut up to him. he lets out a high pitched ow and rolls his eyes, but ultimately he stops his mocking.

John b turns back towards the group at the mention of the new game. "are we finally gonna play something other than spin the bottle? im kinda tired of landing on Sarah." he teases

Sarah shoves him playfully, and then turns back to the topic of conversation. "Yeah we should play, it sounds fun. how does it work?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

Pope speaks up this time, "we spin a bottle for two people, whichever two people it lands on, they go in a closet together for seven minutes to do whatever they want." he adds with a hint of suggestion at the end of his sentence.

jj smirks and turns to look at you, memories of the last time you two played this game when you were fifteen, when you shared your first kiss.

it was the first kiss for both of you, so it was sloppy and had a lot of teeth and tongue, it was sickening to think about, but never forgotten.

jj pipes up next, "yup we can play. this games borin' anyways." he says with a shrug.

everyone else agrees and shifts themselves back into a circle on the carpet. Pope places the bottle in the middle, then darting his eyes from one pogue to another.

"so whos first?" pope speaks

jj doesn't waste a second in volunteering to go first. "me! uh- ill spin first." he says, clearing his throat. everyones eyes fly to jj, giving him a questioning look.

"dude you answered that way too fast." john b says with a growing smirk on his face, his eyes now flickering between me and jj sitting beside one another.

"dude shut up!" jj says, before reaching forward and spinning the glass bottle, he crosses his arms and sneakily crosses his fingers hoping, praying, that it lands on you.

everyones eyes are glued intensely to the bottle, the tension in the small room palpable.

eventually the bottle comes to a stop, the tip of it pointing right to your knee. jj has to hold back from jumping up and saying something like hell yeah!

he instantly stands up, holding his hand out for you to take. "cmon m'lady." he teases, and looks at you with his typical shit eating grin.

you roll your eyes and take his hand, standing up and walking to the closed closet with him.

"i bet everyone can guess what they're gonna do in that closet." john b says with a smirk, as he watches jj open the closet door and enter.

"gross! i dont even wanna think about it." kie adds on, then everyone starts to whisper about both of you in the open circle.

as you both get in the cramped closet, jj takes a seat on stacked boxes that clearly say "fragile" but he obviously doesn't seem to mind. he looks up at you still standing there awkwardly in the dimly lit space.

"seems oddly familiar, doesn't it?" he teases. your brain floods with memories of you and jj in the same situation back in sophomore year.

you both had been in this exact crammed closet, deciding you could both share you first kiss together. it was sloppy, uncoordinated, and you both were trying to figure out a comfortable spot to place your hands. it was an awkward and uncomfortable kiss, but it was stuck in your brain nonetheless.

"yeah, really familiar." you chuckle nervously, looking around, and tapping your foot on the ground. you avoid eye contact with the blonde, hoping this seven minutes would pass by quickly.

he notices your shift in mood, and he smirks. he spreads his legs and moves his arms behind his head as he speaks.

"you know, were in here for a whole seven minutes. we should put it to good use, right?" he was enjoying making you nervous, and teasing you.

when he doesn't get a response, he gently pulls you onto his lap so your straddling him. he looks up into your eyes in the dimly lit closet, with something you cant quite describe.

before you know it, your both leaning in slowly, jj is the one to connect his lips with yours. the kiss was gentle and chaste at first, your mouths moving passionately against one another.

jjs hands find their way to your waist, gently caressing the flesh. you take that as a sign to move your hands up his torso, then settling your arms around his neck, all while continuing to kiss him passionately.

the kiss grows more intense over time, your tongues fighting for dominance against one another. eventually you catch yourself grinding your hips against his, as you both makeout.

minutes go by, and he finds himself lost in your kisses and the way your grinding your hips against his. his cock doesn't take long to stir in his cargo shorts.

when you feel his buldge press up against you, your hips move a little faster, the kisses becoming more desperate. before you know it, a light is shining in the closet and the sound of the door creaking fills your ears.

you pull away from jjs lips briefly to look at who opened the door.

"seven minutes are up, lovebirds." john b says with a jerk of his head, motioning for you two to get out the closet with a smirk.

IM SO SORRY TO LEAVE YALL ON A HANGER LOL

2K notes · View notes

iceonneo · 3 months ago

Text

𝙛/𝙘𝙠 𝙗𝙖𝙣 ; l.hc

haechan x fem! reader

in brief : "be honest you are doing this on purpose, aren't you?" "hmmmm... no." "no?" he chuckled. "nope." you whispered. haechan slid his hands under your thighs pulling you over his lap, straddling him.

"liar."

warnings : [ smut ] swear words, fingering, nipple play, kisses.

❦₊࿐

[ on text ] blue : haechan pink : fem reader

so i was thinking..

miss maam what are you thinking of this time

what if i put us on a sex ban you specifically haech i swear to god i cant feel my legs half the time

wow i take that back u rlly need to stop thinking sometimes where is this even coming from

coming from my vagina that hasnt breathed at ALL

right that same pussy thats wet for me every night.i wonder what happens to the breathing then

ur not making sense rn

wow my girlfriend hates me should i just go kms rn or what

hyuck pls im serious

oh yeah? alright i see how it is. lets see who lasts the longest because i can alr see you wet and on your knees for me and im not even hard

lol okayyyy

❦₊࿐

"this is ridiculous."

your fingers slid around the transparent vessel lifting it into the air. "nope, babe, it's for your own good."

"i don't think this hard ass untouched floating dick is of any fucking good." haechan huffed. he stood on the other side of the counter watching his girlfriend gulp down a glass of water with his hands on his hips.

currently, this was day 03 of the ban and lee haechan was on the verge of pulling his hair out and going full out insane.

you gulp the water down eyeing him for a few seconds before your gaze dropped to the bulge in his pants. a small smile cracked on your features as you snorted lightly.

the way he stood with his hands on his hips and a arrogant frustrated expression on his face with his nose flaring like some roadside auntie. a rather loud laugh escaped your lips this time, "what happened to me being the first to dip? hyuck, you're too cute."

"you say that one more time im going to come right here." he eyed you as you made your way towards him.

you reached him, quickly placing one of your palms on the side of his face. haechan sighed melting into your touch. he closed his eyes letting the weight of his head nestle into your hands.

you let your other arm drop down and roam. the surface of your knuckles brushed against his clothed boner making the boy suck in a deep breath. you watched his face. the way his eyes and brows contracted as you let your thumb brush against his balls, a little too harshly this time.

a small smile played on your lips. "baby, you said you weren't even gonna be hard."

"i swear to god please fist me right now." he said through slightly gritted teeth as he thrusted his groin towards your palm. desperate, needy, horny, sex blinded.

letting your fingers brush against his length once more you swiftly grabbed his right wrist instead.

haechan opened his eyes, a confused expression painted over his features. you lifted his hand that you were holding up. "use this."

❦₊࿐

the movie playing on the tv was where your attention was at, despite the boy snuggled beside and his hands thrown all over your body.

your focus on the screen disappearing slowly as haechan rubbed circles into your belly.

now was when realization hit how close the guy had gotten. from sitting adjacent to you over the single seat, sulking, to directly spawning beside you out of nowhere.

too lazy to even object, you just let him do as he wished.

"baby" he murmured into your ears. his voice sultry and velvety, tickling your ear lobes.

"hm?"

the boy sat up staring straight into your eyes, "im seriously not kidding. this shit is starting to hurt now." you sighed.

"it's hardly been two day-" "three." he corrected.

haechan pinched his brows fake exaggerating, "almost 72 hours without pussy oh theres no difference between me and a stranded fish on a desert right now ."

"what?" you chuckled into your palms, leaning against him ignoring his protests. your hair tickling his face but he didn't care, burying his head further into your nape.

"babe pleaseeeeeeeeeeeee" he whined into your ears, swing an arm around your ribs bringing you closer onto him as the other hand sneakily entered your sweatpants.

"haech, im too ti-"

words stumbled into each other and fell into a bottomless pit within you as you felt his middle finger dive into your core.

instead of a nag came out a moan as he joined his index finger along.

haechan left a trail of kisses on your neck as you leaned against him.

oh, fuck this damn ban.

your back was pressed against his chest, hardly any distance remaining. the two of his fingers rubbed against your cunt- not fast, but slow. slow and powerfully.

"mmh"

and your top was gone in no time.

"told ya." haechan smirked, his other arm advancing towards your bra as he didnt bother unhooking. he grabbed the fabric from the between pulling it down as your boobs popped out. before you know it, his fingers were over the nipples. kneading the flesh slowly, occasionally pinching the bud.

filthy: is a suitable word to describe the view.

practically sitting on only one of his thighs with his hands under your pants. your head dipped behind onto his shoulders. bra awkwardly hanging below the bouncing boobs that perked and shaked with every single sensation.

your moans were breaking with the fast friction against your clitoris and oh they were worthy enough to have the neighbors complaining. "uh- ummyeah yeah, yeah just like tha- oh fuck. ah- ah, baby you're too goodddo- oh!"

"you like this baby?" he smirked. "what was all about the ban now?" his fingers practically abused your shining bud, kneading it down with his fingers. "thats right, this pussy of yours is mine, just mine. im never gonna make you think of that shit ever again."

and there it was, that familiar feeling you yearned to feel. the knot that had formed in your abdomen was begging to snap.

"fuck, hy- uck, faster, baby please."

three fingers in.

at this point, you had lost control of your body. laying almost lifelessly against your boyfriend who fucked you stupid.

his warm hand groping your tit while his fingers toying with your nipple. on the other hand, well literally, the other hand was busy gliding across your perfectly wet and swollen folds. his fingers slowly tracing lower and lower until they met the entrance of your hole.

with a quick kiss on your neck, he inserted his fingers in as you gasped. he pulled them out quickly enough, not even letting you savor the feeling of it. your eyes turned wide, glancing back at him. a whiney call of his name rolled of your tongue.

he smirked lightly before turning you around. swiftly tossing your body against the couch as he climbed on top. both of his arms against your head and that arrogant smirk of his still visible on his face.

"what?" you chuckled, slightly amused by how he wouldn't stop making that face.

"what about the fuck ban?" he questioned.

you raised your brows, "hyuck, seriously?"

the boy retracted his arms and sat up on your groin. his arms folded against his chest while he gazed you down. the visible clothed boner of his was sitting above your hole and you bit your cheeks from inside refusing to let any sign of pleasure show.

"i mean," he made a thinking face, "you sounded pretty serious about it."

"oh yeah?" you snickered while he only nodded. propping yourself against your elbows you sighed.

"well, i guess you're right then." dragging one of your arms from over to your chest down to where the bra hanged, you gripped it, in an attempt to wear it back before the grip on your wrist stopped you.

"I'm kidding." haechan said, locking his gaze on yours noticing your raised brows. "you know i am."

a glint of the slightest ire flicking in your orbs and without a wait, his lips were on yours.

his weight completely dropped upon you. his pressed body against yours pushed out a moan from within. letting your fingers glide down from his nape to his scalp, feeling the heat of his mouth against yours and you couldn't wish to be anywhere else. every detail slowly etched in your mind as you counted down to when his tongue would swipe at your mouth, when his hands would meet your waist and when his sighs would start erupting. you knew him too good.

"ba- hby." he pulled out, drowsy eyes locked on yours. "you know, right?"

you pulled your fingers out of his locks that were now messy, locking them against his neck instead. "hm?"

"sex or no sex, i want you nevertheless. a few nights without feeling your pussy wouldn't mend my love for you, in any way. ever."

"yes sir." a smile spread against your lips as you held in a laugh. he looked way too cute right now.

"but right now, I've been watching you skip around this damn house half naked almost for the entire day." his gaze hardened before dropping down on the floor.

"like that-" he pointed with his eyes to where your short tank top lay, thrown away. "thats literally like 2 threads and the crappiest piece of fabric glued together and it covers nothing- fuck!"

at this point you couldn't hold it in inside as your boisterous laugh bubbled and erupted out of you, echoing almost. "hy- hyuck you're so-" and you were laughing again.

the boy only deadpanned at you from on top as your body vibrated beneath him from the laughter. "Im serious. my dick has been solid rock since the morning."

"be honest you were doing this on purpose, weren't you?" haechan asked with a brow raised and arms folded against his chest. he got off you, sitting on the couch staring at you who was wiping away the tears from laughter that threatened to spill. his mouth was quirked to a small cute smile right before his gaze dropped down to your boobs and the wet patch on your sweats. the tug in his dick almost sent him to mars.

you pulled your fingers against your cheeks, pretending to think. "hmmmm... no."

"no?" he chuckled.

"nope." you whispered.

haechan slid his hands under your thighs pulling you over his lap, straddling him.

"liar."

let's just say the night was long, the neighbors might or might not have knocked on your doors the next morning and oh, also, fuck this damn ban.

#nct #nct dream #haechan #haechan x reader #lee donghyuck #lee haechan #smut #nct dream smut

1K notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 6 months ago

Note

congrats on 5k queen! you’re writing is so brilliant beyond belief and you deserve all the love and support this site has to offer. can i request lando+angsty smut (the best combo)…prompts along the lines of “i don’t think im ever going to love anyone the way i love you”//“i don’t think i want to love anyone else”

how did it end?

ln x famous fem!reader

in which it ends, until…

i love this fic with my whole heart. thank u sm for this request, anon, and for being so absolutely for gorgeous and kind <3 kicking off the 5k celebration with a big, sad, sexy bang! lemme know what you think, hugs n kisses

songs to set the mood: how did it end? by taylor swift

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, angst angst angst, fluff, happy ending! exes to lovers, just. a lot going on. sad!lando, sad!everyone, so many feels, r is a big deal model, alcohol consumption, mentions of smoking

4.1k words

one gasp, and then…

“how did it end?” the woman strokes your arm, soothing, tentative.

you don’t know her all that well, she’s signed to the same agency as you, you see her in the halls sometimes and sit next to her in makeup chairs.

you stare blankly at her, registering. news travels fast apparently.

you smile, small, fake, tilting your head to the side. you mumble something about different schedules, timezones, right person, wrong time. she watches your face intently, with sympathy. you want to throttle her. she’s being kind and you despise her for it right now.

“i won’t tell anyone.” she affirms, her fingers still smoothing over the skin of your arm.

yes you will, you think. all of her friends, the rest of the building will know exactly what you’ve told her by the time you get to your meeting. you don’t begrudge her, though, that’s the nature of the industry.

“well, it was good to see you.” you nod, even go in for a quick hug, and then you speed away, beelining for the elevator. the ride is short, your managers office somewhere on the third floor and you shuffle down the corridor, ready to be informed of what your life will look like for the next three months.

fittings, shoots, paris trip.

mhm.

swimwear season, charlotte tilbury, meeting with the vogue journalist.

cool.

week off, few days in london, monaco grand prix.

no.

“what? no.” you splutter. out of habit, you reach for a necklace, frown when you realise it’s no longer there.

“what do you mean, no?” she narrows her eyes at you.

“i can’t go to the race. no.”

“girl, i love you, but did i ask?”

“you know i can’t-“

“you won’t have to see him.” she reasons.

“but what if i do? he’s obviously gonna be there, and the events before and after- no. no.”

“lando norris is not gonna be the end of you.”

you stifle a laugh, one that sounds more like a strangled cry.

what if he already was?

look who we ran into at the shops,

walking in circles like he was lost

lando stares at the shampoo.

specifically, the one you use. used. he can’t be too sure anymore, he supposes.

he’d popped out for a loaf of bread, about an hour ago. he didn’t want to acknowledge how long he’d been staring at the women’s toiletries section.

you seemed to live on, everywhere. lando could see you in his apartment, the passenger seat of his car, the back of the garage. even the fucking supermarket wasn’t safe. you were very much alive, moving on with life, and yet you haunted him like he’d killed you himself.

perhaps he had, in a way.

the basket grazes the outside of his leg.

that’s the shower gel he’d buy for you, the one you only used when you stayed with him in monaco.

there’s the tampons you asked him to buy, crying back at home on your- his bed.

oh, and there’s the shampoo that you made him buy, the one that you told him made his curls feel extra fluffy when he was between your legs-

“lando?” a voice calls, drawing lando out of the mist.

“oh, alex. hey.” lando croaks. he hasn’t noticed the lump in his throat until now. he clears his throat, running a hand through his hair.

“what you doing, mate?” alex asks, eyebrows furrowed. he scans lando’s face, puffy eyes, watery.

“shopping.”

“for women’s shampoo?”

“no, no, just… looking.” lando stutters.

“when was the last time you slept?” alex’s voice is laced with concern, apprehensive. he doesn’t know what to say to his heartbroken friend.

lando smiles weakly.

“i’ve been sleeping.”

alex sighs.

“okay, when was the last time you slept properly, then?”

lando’s shoulders visibly sag.

“about a month ago.”

we hereby conduct this post-mortem

“we can’t do this anymore.”

the words fall from your lips in a whisper, but they reach him like you’ve screamed them at him. he sits opposite you, in the arm chair, so far away, only a metre or so.

“i know.” lando breathes shakily.

“i don’t want this but…”

“yeah.”

it’s been such a good year. you’re in love. it’s not enough. there’s too much distance, too many outsider opinions, too much longing for someone who’s on the other side of the world.

he’ll be in london. you’ll be in brazil.

he’ll be in australia. you’ll be in amsterdam.

it’s too much.

“i love you, though.” you remind him meekly.

“don’t know how to not love you.” he sniffles.

your heart shatters, the pieces flying over the room, spilling across the floor. they mix with the splinters of his, painting the room red. all you feel is blue.

you cry in his arms when he takes you to bed, his own tears spilling over your collar bone when he buries his head in your neck, licks over the marks he’s left there. to remember me by, he’d muttered dryly.

when you’re both finished, he lays there for a moment, still on top of you. damp with sweat and tears, the taste of one another still lingering on your tongues.

“how is it possible that i miss you already?” he pants, lips grazing just below your ear.

“i get it, lan. i’ve been missing you for a while.”

you’re gone when he wakes up.

and so, a touch that was my birthright became foreign

come one, come all

it’s happening again

the empathetic hunger descends

there are about six cameras pointed at you when he asks the dreaded question.

you’re in new york, sat on a talk show hosts sofa, lit by stage lights and his inquisitive eyes. two hundred people sit in the audience, on the edge of their seats waiting for you to spill your secrets.

“so, what happened there, with lando?”

you plaster on the fakest smile to date, crossing your legs anxiously.

“we’re both just so busy, you know? he’s doing amazing things in f1 and i’m all over the place with work.”

“we love both of you over here, it was sad to hear.” he sympathises, adjusting his tie and leaning back in his chair. his fingers drum over the wood of his desk, waiting for more.

vultures. everyone is a vulture.

“and we still have a lot of love for each other. he’s a wonderful person.”

there are tears in your eyes and bile rising rapidly in your throat when you shake hands with the crew, the host, and retreat to your dressing room. you stumble into the en-suite and throw up. then, you fall onto the sofa and cry. you fix your makeup at godspeed and reply to the text from your team, inviting you to drinks at some rooftop bar, promising to meet them there. you punctuate the text with one too many exclamation marks, feigning excitement.

“we still have a lot of love for each other.”

translation: i can’t understand: how did it end?

lando watches your interview. of course he does. he watches everything that you do, watches the way you set the world on fire.

he can’t help himself where you’re concerned, like an addict craving the next hit. you look so pretty on tv, glowing. you look fine.

god, why do you look fine?

he hates himself for hating just how fine you look. he is not fine.

“he’s a wonderful person.”

your words ring in his ears. they anger him, because if he’s oh-so-wonderful, why aren’t you here? why isn’t he there with you, waiting backstage? why can’t you just hate him? why can’t he just hate you? maybe you will, if he shows you just how not wonderful he can be.

he gets drunk that night. forces max to hit the clubs with him. sticks his tongue down a pliant woman’s throat. doesn’t ask her name. let’s her invite him back to her place. it has to be her place, he can’t fuck someone else in your bed, the one you used to share. he leaves minutes after he’s pulled out. he’s sure she’s lovely, too good for him and his bitter fucking heart. he feels utterly disgusting.

lando goes home, scrubs his skin red, and then does it again. he doesn’t go to sleep, watches from his balcony as the sun begins to rise over the sea. he hikes to the highest point he can reach in monaco, where it’s quiet and there’s no one to judge him, or worse, sympathise with him.

he stands at the edge of the cliff. screams once, twice. he sits on a rock, and lets himself cry.

the deflation of our dreaming

leaving me bereft and reeling

my beloved ghost and me

sitting in a tree

d-y-i-n-g

your stylist is plying you with options.

you can wear the denim with the cream OR you could do the red and white? or we can go full glam! or! or! or! we could-

you drown her out. you don’t give a fuck. not a single one.

what you wear to the monaco grand prix is quite literally the least of the your problems. your biggest problem, of course, is that you have to go to the fucking thing.

visibility is important, get people talking! the words of your manager ring in your ears until you have a dull migraine brewing behind your ears.

you leave the fitting not entirely sure what you’re wearing, but your stylist will be sending the clothes over so you can pack.

when you land in all too familiar nice, there are cameras. when you get to the hotel in monaco, you and lando are already trending on twitter. well, at least he knows you’re coming. when you’re getting your makeup done before your first event, you get a text.

i’ll try and keep my distance.

try.

try is such an interesting word. the fact that he has to try to stay away makes your belly flutter with embarrassing, self loathing butterflies. don’t try too hard, you want to respond. you don’t.

should’ve told you i’d be here you shoot back.

you think i didn’t already know?

of course he knew. he’d probably asked god knows how many brands to invite you. you try and feign an illness but your team drag you kicking and screaming to the event.

there are no two ways about it: you’re drunk, on a tuesday night, somewhere in the principality. a few cocktails with a jewellery brand turned into a night on the town, bar hopping with people you hardly knew and barely recognised.

you’re shaking your ass in jimmy’z, pretending to have fun when you see him.

lando stands at the bar, watching you, jaw tensed, eyes solemn. you exit the club faster that his car down a back straight, stumbling into the smoking area. you bum a cigarette from a guy who tries really hard to convince you that he’s the son of a british lord, and sink into the corner, ignoring the people recording you.

depressed model shame smokes outside monaco club because she is fucking pathetic, the headlines will read.

“thought you quit that shit.” his voice washes over your body like you’ve been set on fire, smooth tone, ambiguous accent making you ache.

“i did but then i got forced to come to monaco, so.” you shrug.

“forced?”

“‘m here for work.” you sigh.

“i guess i am too.” he mumbles. you raise an eyebrow.

“you live here, lan.” you tease. lan rolls off of your tongue too sweetly.

“doesn’t feel like it anymore.”

how can it, without you? he wants to scream at you. he can’t, you don’t deserve it.

“how are you?”

you want to touch him.

“shit.”

he needs a taste.

“yeah.”

you put your cigarette out. it tastes like shit, half smoked.

you stand there, stare at each other.

take me home, you want to beg.

come home, he clenches his fists, trying not to grab you and remind you how you’ll always be his, right here, up against the side of the club.

“good luck, if i don’t see you.” you whisper. you linger, praying that he’ll beg you to stay so that you can crumble into his arms, without having to make the first move.

lando ponders his options. his head and his heart wage a war.

logic wins, unfortunately.

“thank you.”

you take that as your queue to get the fuck out of there, and disappear into the night.

it’s raining on sunday. the dreary weather seems to perfectly sum up what has been the worst week of your life.

you’ve seen your ex boyfriend more times than you can count, ended up with about four hangovers as a result, and with a pounding head, you have to sit in the paddock club and wait for the sound of engines to split your head in half. it was your own doing, so you’d suck it up, recognising that you were a disgustingly privileged bitch, and there are people who would sell their kidneys to do what you’re complaining about.

you never complain, not usually. but your heart hurts and your body hearts and your mind hurts and it’s just not fair. lando is gorgeous, and you miss him so badly, and your shoes are digging in. who the fuck thinks it’s a good idea to wear heels to an f1 race?

you see him before the race, mouth good luck from afar. he winks. it’s something you used to do before every race. old habits die screaming.

the rain falls harder, the track slick. you say a prayer and take your seat.

“norris has this in the bag, he’s bloody good in the wet.” you hear some old guy say behind you. you are cursed with the knowledge of just how good in the wet he is, and you end up flushed.

he wins. his second one in three races. you pray that no one notices the way you weep. everyone notices.

you make a mistake and rush for the podium, your pass giving you access. he graces the top step and you sob, grinning like a fool, soaked through with rain. the anthem plays, the champagne pops. he finds your eyes in the crowd. your hair falls, stringy and curled, mascara smudged. you are the most breathtaking sight. he stands still, washed with an onslaught of champagne, watching you like he’s scared to take his eyes off of you. his boyish grin and hopeful eyes render you weak - you’re there for him, after all - and he can’t help but bask in that little fact.

dangerous territory. you break, and disappear.

say it once again with feeling…

the photographers barely get a second to snap a picture of the top three, because lando is gone. he takes the stairs two at a time, descending from the podium and throwing his pirelli cap and a shaky apology at his pr rep. the adrenaline spike makes his blood rush; he needs to find you and stop you and tell you that he will never be able to stop loving you.

the exit is the natural assumption, and he nearly slips a thousand times as he sprints through the paddock. the ground is wet, but he figures that if his car made it, so can he. the gates are in sight, and so are you, your clothes sticking to your shivering frame.

he calls your name, thunderously travelling towards you, his voice hitting your ears like a sonic boom. you freeze, turn slowly until your facing him. the rain splashes around you, not letting up.

you’re within his reach, and he pulls you in, hugging you tight. you melt into him, clinging like he’s a life force. he inhales you, your scent that he’s missed so horrifically. you crumble, and so does he, pieced back together as one.

“i can’t do this, i can’t.” he kisses the words into the cold skin of your neck.

“no, neither can i.” you choke wetly with emotion.

“miss you too much. it’s too hard, it’s stupid, it’s-“

“wrong. it’s wrong. ‘m sorry.” your breath fans his face, breathing life into him, life that he’d lost four months ago.

he grabs your shoulders, lowering so that his eyes are level with yours. his curls fall over his eyes, sodden from the rain.

“i don’t think, no, i know: i’m never gonna love anyone the way i love you.” lando speaks slow, convincing. your chest is tight.

“i don’t want to love anyone else.” you croak, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe.

“come back to me.” he mutters, pleading.

“don’t think i ever left.” you breathe, hushed.

your lips slot over his easily, it’s like breathing. the kiss is messy, helpless, and he engulfs you whole, his body wrapping around yours like a blanket. you latch onto his race-suit, drawing him in, and then you both seem to remember where you are.

lando norris caught kissing ex like horny teenager in monaco paddock!

you pull away with breathless chuckle. the air is fresh, and you feel alive. he steals another peck.

“wait for me at home. i’ll be quick.” his hand finds you ass, just for a second and you scold him playfully.

home.

yeah, home.

“don’t make me wait.” you grin.

his brain short circuits.

“do you still have your key?” he splutters, refocusing.

you scoff. “never took it off the chain.”

you pace the apartment, taking in the space. it hasn’t changed, but it’s messier, a visual representation of lando since you left. the pit of your belly swirls with anxiety, anticipation. he’ll be back soon, and he’ll kiss you, make love to you, remind you that you’re home and that it’d be stupid to leave again.

you’re still damp from the rain, shedding layers until you’re left in your vest and jeans, ridiculous heels kicked off by the door, your jacket airing over the back of a chair.

he hasn’t taken down the pictures of you together. he hasn’t moved your ugly collection of magnets from the fridge. he hasn’t changed the blinds that you chose, but he didn’t really like. your candles sit on the bookshelf half burned, the teddy he’d won you at a fair sits neatly on the sofa. the L pendant and it’s chain is strewn over the coffee table, right where you left it the morning after it ended. your breathing is heavy.

the front door opens behind you.

you don’t move, your eyes still fixed on the silver chain, overwhelmed by how empty your neck feels all of the sudden. he comes up behind you, his head resting on your shoulder, arms finding home around your waist. you often used to find yourselves in this exact position; while you brushed your teeth, made coffee. the room is deathly silent, breathing and the distant buzz of post race festivities the only thing you can hear. lando follows your gaze.

“kept it. knew that one day, you’d come back for it.”

“i came back for you.”

“and that necklace will stay with you when i can’t be there.”

you nod. he kisses your neck.

“missed you so bad.” you gasp. he licks your skin, bites down softly.

you spin in his arms, his hands pawing at your hips and everything blurs when he kisses you.

shaky fingers work over zippers, buttons, clasps, and then you’re both bare. you sink into the mattress that you missed so much, his body moulded with yours when you both tumble into the sheets. this is messy and frantic, utterly lovestruck. the lightning strike of his touch has you keening, sweating beneath him already.

“missed you. missed this.”

“do something, lan.” you cry, quiet against his shoulder.

“missed my perfect girl.” he grunts, lips working your chest while his fingers leave a trail of goosebumps over your inner thigh.

“please.” you sigh when his fingers dip between your folds, sliding over your wet flesh. his lip catches between his teeth, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of you.

he thumbs at your clit, stroking over you in slow, firm swipes, and then he’s sinking a digit into you, slow and steady. your toes curl, tears pricking your eyes at the intrusion, but you don’t have much of a chance to adjust, a second finger joining the first. he fucks you full, the stretch of just two fingers making you whine, one hand threading into the sheets while the other slams over your mouth. you want to hide, the pleasure rendering you a mess across the pale grey linen.

“no, let me look at you.” lando rasps, spare hand tugging at your wrist. you whine, writhing when he curls his fingers. “why are you hiding?”

you can’t hold back the choked cry that sounds from the back of your throat, his palm bumping your clit as he grinds his fingers deep.

“gone shy on me, baby? where’s my good girl gone?” lando coos, moving so that he’s leaning over you. the angle change sends your legs flying, kicking out at the sweet torture. “‘s because you haven’t been fucked right in so long, hm? can’t remember how to behave?” he’s smirking down at you, scanning the changing lines of your face.

“need it, need-“ you stutter, the words dying on your tongue.

“words, pretty girl, words.” lando encourages, false sympathy dripping from his tongue.

“need to cum, want you to make me…” you trail off.

“was that so hard?” he tuts, and everything speeds up.

the sound of him working you so sweetly makes you shake, your thighs clenching tight around his hand. the wet squelch hits your ears and you blush, cheeks coloured deep with embarrassment, awe, desperation.

your mouth drops open, screaming silently when it hits, your thighs slick. you drip down his wrist, his hand covered in your release.

“there’s my girl.” lando sighs, diving down to kiss you hard.

you can feel the damp press of his fingers as they dig into your thighs and you squirm beneath him, finding your way into his mouth.

“fuck me.” you slur, teeth knocking with his. he swallows you whole, groaning into your mouth.

“not so shy now, hm? been dreaming of hearing you beg for it.” lando shudders, shifting between your legs.

you can feel the press of him, thick against your cunt and you wiggle your hips, pushing to meet him halfway. the stretch burns deliciously, and you grab at his shoulders, dragging him in.

“fuck, baby.” he breathes, sinking into you slowly. “feel like heaven.” disbelief coats his voice, like he can’t reconcile that this is real; you’re back here, his, in the bed you were always supposed to share.

“it’s so good. feel so good for me, lan.” you whisper, lacing your fingers through his hair.

“love you so much.” he kisses you like he means it, rocking into you with purpose.

“can’t believe i lived without this.”

“can’t believe you’re all mine.”

the release builds, every thrust reminding you of what you could have lost for good. there was no lack of love, in fact you were starting to wonder if you had loved each other too much before.

“never losing you again. can’t live without you. my beautiful girl.”

your tummy grows tight, and he finds your clit when he feels you clamp down on him. he pulls you through the pleasure, guides you to your orgasm and you blindly follow him. you’d follow him anywhere, you decide.

you tell him you love him when you let go, spilling all around him, warm. he’s panting, kisses your forehead gently. he rolls off of you, and you feel the slow drip instantly, but you curl into his side and he wraps around you.

home.

“promise me something.” he whispers. you feel the way he shakily inhales.

“hm?”

“don’t leave again. you belong here, too. with me.”

your eyes are watery.

“i’m staying. ‘m yours.”

“about that…”

lando springs from the bed, naked, disappearing from the room. you watch, confused, cold all of the sudden.

you can hear his footsteps padding through the hallway, and then he’s back, his figure in the hallway. he runs, jumps, lands gracelessly next to you. endeared, you laugh softly.

“sit up.”

you do, leaning up to sit next to him. his fingers skim your shoulder, pushing your hair out of the way. cool metal dances over your skin.

“back where it belongs.” lando smiles at you, eyes wide and stunning.

you toy with the L. something heals in your chest, right around where your heart is.

“the sweetest boy.” you shake your head in disbelief, grin up at him like a fool.

“bath?”

“you know me so well, noz.”

come one, come all

it’s happening again

oh, my heart. there is something deeply wrong with me

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @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

2K notes · View notes

under-art-reblogs · 19 days ago

Text

Thank you again SO MUCH!!

This girl doesn't get as much attention as some of my other "OC's" and she's the original, so I'm glad to see her get the attention she deserves.

She looks fantastic and I hope you had fun!

(@ratsoh-writes What does Coffee think?)

Did a pretty lady, Kyra, for @under-art-reblogs :) I had a lot of fun, especially designing the clothes!

#my internet sona #my oc #kyra #commission #💕💕💕#im gonna go stare at this for a few hours now #im just going to hoard this piece like a dragon with their treasure trove

9 notes · View notes

nastybuckybarnes · 2 months ago

Text

Date Night

Pairing: dbf!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky makes a big mistake.

Warnings: Angst, Language, yea sorry

Word Count: 1.7K

A/n: teehee whoops. im gonna have a ghost one coming out soon for you guys, and then maybe some more teddy bear picnic but we'll see

~*~

"Hey kid, wanna grab a beer and watch the game with your old man? Or are you too cool for that?"

You grin at your dad and slow your steps, glancing at the hockey game on TV.

"Where's Bucky? I thought he was your game night date? He finally realize hockey sucks?"

Your dad gives you an offended look then rolls his eyes playfully.

"Nah, he had to cancel last minute - he's got a hot date tonight."

He wiggles his eyebrows at you, unaware of the fact that those six words have flipped your night upside down and caused knots to form in your stomach.

You don't remember having plans with him tonight.

As casually as you can manage, you head into the kitchen, pulling out your phone and tapping a quick text over to the man in question.

'Not coming over tonight?'

It's read within the same minute, and then the telltale three dots pop up before his message spawns.

'Sorry baby, not feeling too hot.'

The knots in your gut are quickly crushed by the boulder that settles there, and you need to take a few careful breaths to stop yourself from crying in the middle of the kitchen.

~*~

"Everything okay, James?"

He huffs out a sigh and glances up from his phone, smiling weakly at the woman across from him.

"Listen, Dot... I can't tell you how grateful I am that you managed to make such a beautiful cake in such a short amount of time. And, while I'm flattered that you'd want to go out for dinner, I had you make that cake for a woman who means... quite a bit to me. I don't want to make things awkward but I do want you to know that I'm out with you tonight as a friend and nothing more."

The woman across from him blinks blankly a few times, then takes a sip of her martini, stands up, and leaves the table.

Bucky watches helplessly as she leaves the restaurant without another word, dropping his head back for a moment as he feels onlookers stare.

It takes a few minutes for the waitress to come back, but by the time she does, he's got a wad of cash ready for her and his keys in hand.

He all but runs out of the restaurant, a new lightness in his shoulders like a weight has been lifted from his chest.

Immediately, he grabs his phone and shoots a quick text off to your dad.

'Room for one more?'

It takes a few minutes for your dad to respond, which Bucky uses to put on his helmet and straddle his bike.

'Date not going well?'

Bucky chuckles softly.

'Something like that. I'll be there in five.'

He swipes out of the conversation with your dad and then clicks on the only pinned conversation on his phone.

'I'm feeling a bit better now, gonna pop by for a bit.'

With that, he locks his phone and brings his bike to life, eager to be in your presence again.

Your phone vibrates, pulling you from your pity party, and you frown at the text on it.

You turn your phone off and drop it face-down on the carpet, ignoring this text the way you've ignored the last three from him.

You can hear him downstairs chatting with your dad as if he's done nothing wrong. As if he wasn't out with another woman less than an hour ago.

Grinding your teeth together, you decide that enough is enough, and it's time for bed.

At the very moment you open your door to head to the bathroom to get ready for bed, Bucky decides to raise his fist to knock.

Your eyes meet his and, for a moment, you forget that you're mad. You forget everything.

And then he opens his stupid mouth.

"Hey, what's with you tonight?" He asks gently, reaching forward to grab your hand.

You yank away from him and take a step back, levelling him with a steely glare.

"How was your date?"

You watch as he deflates, as his face falls and his shoulders slump forward the tiniest bit.

"Sweetheart, it's not what you think, I swear."

"Oh Jesus Christ," you murmur, pushing past him and heading downstairs to watch the game with your dad. At least down here he can't talk to you.

He can't try to justify him willingly going on a date with another woman.

Well, not until the game's over, at least. And it seems like it's only a few minutes before your dad is yawning, turning the TV off and heading upstairs to go to bed himself.

This leaves you alone in the living room with Bucky, tension building with every silent second that passes between the two of you.

"Honey, I had to," he finally whispers, breaking the silence.

You whip your head around, mouth dropping open in disbelief.

"Excuse me?"

He holds his hands up, a desperate and pathetic attempt at pleading with you, begging you to hear him out.

"It was the only way for me to get your birthday cake. Dot is an old friend from high school and... she wanted a date as payment for the last-minute cake," he explains quietly.

You purse your lips, nodding as if it all makes sense now.

"Oh, I see! So, not only do you admit to forgetting my birthday, but you also agreed to go on a date with a woman who has had a thing for you since high school! Buck, that is so not okay on so many different levels!" You exclaim in a whisper.

The last thing you need is your dad overhearing any part of this conversation.

"I know. That's why I left. I told her I couldn't, that the cake was for someone important to me and that I was only having dinner with her as a friend."

You shake your head at him and rise to your feet, unable to stay still while he spews nothing but nonsense at you and expects you to forgive him.

"You shouldn't have even gotten me that cake if that's what she wanted as payment! You should've told her to stick it and then you literally could've gotten me a Starbucks cake pop. I don't need fancy cakes or expensive things, James, I thought you knew that." Your voice gradually loses its anger, disappointment and exhaustion taking its place.

"I know but... I wanted to do something special for you." He looks like a kicked puppy, and it takes a serious amount of self-control to hold on to your anger.

"My birthday was special. Even without the cake it still would've been special. Especially if I'd've known it would mean that you would be going on a date with another woman in order to get it."

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry," he pleads, reaching for you again only for you to shake your head and step away.

"No, Bucky. Sorry doesn't fix this. Can you imagine if the roles were reversed? What if I had to go on a date with a guy who's been wanting me for over a decade just for the perfect steak? And then, what if I lied to you about it and you found out from my dad that I was out on a 'hot date'? A date with someone that the general public would deem more appropriate for me to be with? Someone who would fit me better. How would that make you feel?"

He stands there silently for a moment, fists clenched tightly as he imagines everything you just said.

He imagines you laughing on a date with another man, a young man, a man far more appropriate for you to be with. He imagines sitting waiting for you, only to find out that you're out getting hit on by some young punk who wouldn't know how to please a woman like you. His imagination runs wild, to the point where he can almost feel steam billowing from his ears, but all he says is

"Shitty."

"Shitty?" You laugh, "Try worthless. Embarrassed. Humiliated. At least that's how I felt. And-and maybe I'm just reading too deep into this. Maybe this 'exclusivity' that I thought we had is one-sided."

"It's not," he interrupts quickly, taking a step forward only to pause when you step back again.

"Maybe I just thought things were more serious than they were," you continue, eyes stuck on the ground as your thoughts spill out before your mind has a moment to realize what you're saying.

"They are serious-"

"Maybe we should just stop... whatever this is that we're doing."

Silence hangs heavily in the air when you finish speaking, and you feel tears sting at your eyes when he says nothing.

You count thirteen heartbeats before he finally says something.

"Is that what you really want?" He asks softly, his voice discouraged.

Slowly, you raise your eyes to his.

"What even are we?" You ask breathlessly, a single tear sliding down your cheek. "What are we doing?"

"You're my girl."

You sniffle and shake your head.

"No, I'm your dirty little secret, that's what I am. And I'm tired of it. I wanna be something you're proud of, not something you have to hide," you whisper, your chest aching with the weight of your confession.

Bucky's heart breaks at your words, and he wants nothing more than to scoop you up in his arms and kiss away any insecurities you have in your relationship. If you can even call it that.

"I am proud of you, sweetheart, beyond proud. I can't even put into words how I feel about you," he whispers, desperate for you to understand just how much you mean to him.

"Why haven't you told my dad about us yet?"

The silence that follows your question is answer enough for you, and you nod.

"I... I think you should leave," you finally whisper, hugging yourself and keeping your gaze locked on the ground.

He stays rooted in place for a long moment, testing your resolve, waiting for you to break. When you don't, he takes slow steps toward the door, waiting, praying for you to change your mind.

But you stand firm.

Never able to deny you, he leaves you standing alone in your kitchen, your dad peacefully asleep upstairs while your entire life gets turned upside down.

#bucky x reader #bucky x reader angst #bdf!bucky x reader #dbf!au #bucky x reader dbf au #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader au #james x reader #bucky/reader #bucky barnes/reader #marvel fanfic #bucky fanfic #bucky angst

820 notes · View notes

rafeandonlyrafe · 6 months ago

Text

ready

words: 2.1k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, soft!rafe, inexperienced!reader (not a virgin though), reader is briefly described as small chested, p in v sex, mentions of past bad experiences

you feel like you've been kissing rafe for hours, but it's probably only been a few minutes as his lips gently glide against yours. his hands are placed securely at your waist, not venturing any further until you give him permission, even though he's itching to feel your bare skin.

“should we take this upstairs?” rafe asks, his voice a soft hum, sultry and low.

“oh, um-” you freeze, and rafe can feel the change in your body, the way you suddenly stiffen.

“just because wheezie is going to come home soon. we can just kiss, don't have to do anything you don't want to.” rafe quickly clarifies.

“yes, then.” you nod enthusiastically. “absolutely.”

rafe smiles, looping your hands together as he walks you upstairs to his room. you feel your heartbeat speed up, even though rafe assured you that you wouldn't be doing anything you weren't ready for.

“sorry for freaking out for a second earlier.” you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear as rafe shuts the door behind you.

“it's fine.” rafe shakes his head. “i should have been more clear. we take this at your pace, baby.”

“thank you.” you loop your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss. “who knew rafe cameron could be such a sweeatheart?”

“you bring it out in me, princess, i don't know what to say.” rafe backs you up until the back of your knees hit his bed and you lower yourself down.

“i do have a question though.” rafe hums as he sits himself down next to you. “and im not going to judge you either way, it's just for me to know how to handle things.”

“okay.” you nod, already guessing where this is going.

“are you a virgin?”

“no.” you shake your head. “ive had a couple experiences before but none of them have been… good.” you sigh, thinking back to your first boyfriend who took your virginity on prom night, in all of 30 seconds. “and i haven't had sex in a long time so in a way i kind of feel like a virgin.”

“okay.” rafe nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, gently cradling you against his side. “thank you for telling that to me.”

“i… want to, though. with you.”

“there's no rush, i want you too, but we can take our time.” rafe presses a kiss to your head.

“you're not gonna get bored waiting?” you duck your head as you speak, ashamed of the question even as you ask.

“never, babes. you're my girl, yeah? i don't take that lightly. if i wasn't willing to wait, i wouldn't have asked you out in the first place.”

a smile stretches across your cheeks as you hide your face in rafes shirt.

“oh, you're so cute when you're all shy.” rafe laughs, cupping your cheek and lifting your face up to look at him, pressing kisses all over your cheeks and over the bridge of your nose.

“i want you.” you say, chasing rafes lips to connect them.

“you already said that.”

“i mean-” you take a deep breath, considering your decision. “i mean i want you now. im ready.”

“right now? baby if you feel pressured-”

“no, no.” you grip his shirt. “i really want this.”

“okay.” rafe can't help the smile that stretches across his cheeks. “we're taking things slow though, alright?”

you nod, kissing him again as rafe moves you, guiding you to lay back against the pillows. he hovers over you, holding his weight up on his elbows.

rafe pulls back, looking down at you. “you're so beautiful.”

you feel your cheeks flush red as you blush, resisting the urge to cover your face.

“im gonna take my shirt off first, alright? make you feel nice and comfortable.” rafe says.

“you mean make me feel hot and turned on? because that's what happens when you take your shirt off around me.” you giggle.

“oh, i see the way you stare at me when i take you out on the boat.” rafe laughs, placing his knees on either side of your body on the bed, caging you in as he straightens out, pulling his shirt off.

“can i… touch you?” you question. you've hugged rafe before when he's shirtless, but you've never specifically focused on feeling his muscles.

rafe doesn't answer with his words, simply taking your hand and placing it on his abs.

you run your hand over the ridges of his abdomen before moving up, feeling his defined chest, pecks almost as big as your own breasts.

“satisfied?” rafe asks when you lower your hand.

“yeah im… im gonna take my shirt off now.” you tell rafe, wanting to feel rafe touching you, the way your bare skin presses together when he leans back down and kisses you.

rafe moves back, allowing you to pull your tank top off, leaving your bra covering your chest for now.

“so hot, baby.” rafe drops himself over you, kissing you again. you wrap your arms around his shoulders, feeling the way he's so sculpted there too as your hand drifts down his back.

“can i take your bra off?” rafe questions. “only if you want.”

“mhm.” you go to reach behind your back, but rafe moves faster than you, unclipping your bra and sliding the straps down your arms. he leaves you the final decision to pull the cups away.

you swear rafes eyes increase in size as he takes in your bare chest.

“it's okay, you can touch me. i-i want you to touch me.”

rafe nods, hands coming to cover your tits, large palms swallowing them.

“i know they're small-” you begin to explain, but rafe cuts you off.

“they're perfect, baby.” rafe says honestly. you can see him now beginning to tent in his shorts as he stays kneeling above you, hands moving to cup your tits, thumbs running around your nipples before swiping over them.

you gasp, surprised by how good it feels. none of the guys you slept with in the past paid any real attention to making you feel good as rafe continues, watching your nipples harden with every movement.

“we can stop here for today if you like.” rafe says, hands moving to your waist, wrapping around you as he drops once again to press a kiss to your lips.

“no, i don't want to stop.” you admit shyly. “i want you so bad.”

“good, because im hard as hell and if you wanted to stop id definitely have to go take care of myself in the bathroom.” rafes joke diffuses the situation even more as you let out a laugh.

“im just gonna touch you over your shorts for now. if at any point it's too much…” rafe trails off, knowing he's being so extra cautious you probably find it annoying, but he doesn't want today to be added to your list of bad experiences.

rafe moves himself to the side, distracting you with more kisses as his hand drops to spread your legs, fingers gently running over your thighs before moving up higher.

rafe keeps his movements light as he begins to rub your center, increasing the intensity when you moan against his mouth.

“does that feel good?” he smiles down at you, watching your face contort in pleasure.

“in… inside my shorts please.” you take rafes hand and move him one less barrier away. rafe sees your need and immediately begins to rub again, now with just your underwear in the way.

“oh god, you're so wet.” rafe groans, focusing in on your clit as you let out soft moans, aware that you're likely no longer alone in the house.

“i-i need you rafe.”

“yeah.” rafe pulls his hand out, clearly unable to wait as he's straining against the zipper of his shorts.

rafe steps off the bed and you watch in fascination as he undoes his shorts, sliding them off to reveal his incredibly obvious bulge in his underwear before rifling through his nightstand to pull out a condom.

“no complaints.” he says when you open your mouth. “i know you're on birth control but your first time with me is not going to be raw. just in case you don't like it.”

you giggle, rolling your eyes. “i know im gonna like it, rafe.”

“still.” he leans down, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

you watch intensely as rafes underwear is also pushed off his hips, his cock standing hard and up away from his body.

“do you want me to… suck it or something?”

“if you do that i won't get to fuck you.” it takes you a second to realize what rafe means.

“oh!”

“you just… really turn me on.” he admits.

you lift your hips and push your shorts and underwear down in one go, kicking them off the bed to add to the piles of clothes on the floor

rafe smirks, glad you're growing more and more confident every minute.

rafe lays back down next to you, both turning to the side to face each other.

“are you nervous?” rafe questions, hand falling to your bare hip, rubbing your leg and keeping his eyes locked with yours, despite wanting to look down and see all of you.

“i thought i would be.” you admit softly. “but im not. not with you.”

“im gonna let you control everything at first.” rafe lifts your leg and sets it over his hip, his cock nestling between your thighs.

you close your eyes as you press down, experimenting with the way rafes cock rubs through your folds, having to remember to keep your moans quiet when it bumps against your clit.

“whenever you're ready.” rafe says, his eyes now squeezed shut as he concentrates on holding himself back.

you reach down, grasping rafes cock as you move him against your entrance, angling your hips as you sink forward until he's as far inside of you as he can get in this position.

“just…” rafes hand squeezes at your hip. “stay like that for a second, baby.”

you need a moment to adjust anyways, so you keep your hips still until rafe exhales and nods at you.

you look down between your bodies, watching the way his cock disappears inside of you with every movement.

“god, you feel amazing.” he moans.

“you can move. please.” you whimper. rafe nods again, beginning to rock back and forth, making the mattress squeak underneath you as he meets your thrusts.

the movements may be slow, but you're gradually building up, experimenting by shifting your hips and seeing what feels best.

you let out a sudden moan when you tilt your hips and rafes cock hits a new sensitive spot inside of you.

“no one's ever done that before for you, huh?” rafe smiles at your clear shock and pleasure as he thrusts in and presses the spot again.

“oh fuck.” you whine, head leaning back as rafe carefully moves you onto your back so he can take over.

“you don't know how long ive wanted to see you like this.” rafe says, balancing on his elbows as his hips press into you, keeping the thrusts slow but deep.

“moaning beneath me. god, i would have waited forever for you but im so glad we're doing this now.”

“rafe, stop.” you whine. “you're gonna make me cry and im way too horny to start sobbing.”

rafe laughs, bending down to press a kiss to your forehead before refocusing on your pleasure as he speeds up.

“im gonna touch your clit as i fuck you, baby.” rafe informs you before moving his hand, thumb pressing over your clit as he rubs.

“oh shit!” you squeal before quickly covering your mouth, your hips lifting off the bed as rafe continues to fuck into you.

“are you close?” he questions, glad that you nod, not sure how much longer he can hold off.

rafe pushes his pleasure aside for a bit longer as he presses inside of you, sighing with relief when he feels you tighten around him.

“oh my god, rafe!” you moan as your high suddenly hits, entire body shaking as your pussy pulses around his cock, spurring on rafes own orgasm as he cums with a moan of your name, filling the condom.

he gives you a feel final thrusts, his thumb shakily rubbing your clit through your high until he can't hold himself up any longer, collapsing on the bed to the side of you.

you're both breathing heavily, recovering from the intensity. as soon as rafe can get his muscles to respond to him, he pulls you in close, tucking you against his side.

“so, was i good baby?” he asks, even as your body still shakes with the after waves of your pleasure.

“best ive ever had.” you grin up at him. “by a long shot.”

“just what i like to hear.” rafe bends down to give you a kiss before pushing your hair away from his face and leaning to whisper into your ear. “and you haven't even got to feel my mouth yet. just wait until i eat you out.”

1K notes · View notes