#it was done under an hour so i’m calling it a win just to have something

[nerdferatum]

WIP Whenever

I was tagged by @cashweasel on Wednesday but work has been killing me. I can offer you all a motorbabe Morgan as an apology. Ignore the fact that I forgot how to draw bikes though.

I’m tagging (but no pressure) @aztarion @inaconstantstateofchange @codename-mango and @sosolenoo 💜

[pucksandpower]

Baby Girl Norris

Lando Norris x pediatrician!Reader

Summary: you know what you have to do — track down a world-famous Formula 1 driver, tell him about his newborn daughter, and maybe, if he’s willing, help him navigate single fatherhood — falling in love with their little family was not part of the plan … but doing so changes all your lives for the better

You take a deep breath as you enter the nursery, steeling yourself for the task ahead. As a pediatrician at the Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco, you’ve cared for thousands of babies over the years. But this case is different.

Baby Girl Norris, born just two hours ago, is now legally parentless after her mother signed away all parental rights. Hospital protocol demands you track down and notify the father before assuming guardianship. Easier said than done when the father is Formula 1 superstar Lando Norris.

Approaching the clear bassinet, you gaze down at the sleeping newborn. Wispy dark hair peeks out from under her pink cap. Ten tiny fingers curled into fists. She has no idea how complicated her life is about to become.

You flip through the chart again, verifying the details. Mother is French, here on a student visa. Refused to even look at the baby after a 27-hour labor, immediately signing away rights. Father listed as one Lando Norris of the United Kingdom.

You sigh, picking up the phone to dial the number listed. It rings five times before disconnecting. You try the landline for his Monaco residence with the same result. Probably outdated.

Time for plan B. You search the McLaren Racing website until you find a generic service line. Heart pounding, you dial.

“McLaren Technology Centre, this is Marie speaking.”

You take a breath. “Hello, I apologize for the strange request, but I need to reach Lando Norris as soon as possible. It’s … it’s regarding a private family matter.”

“I’m sorry, but Mr. Norris does not accept unsolicited communications. Have a nice-”

“Wait!” You interject. “Please, I am calling from Princess Grace Hospital in Monaco. We have a newborn baby girl here, and we believe Mr. Norris may be the father.”

Marie hesitates. “Hold please, I’ll transfer you.”

Your pulse quickens. This may actually work! But your hopes are quickly dashed.

“This is Andrew from McLaren Racing public relations. May I ask who I’m speaking with?” His tone is suspicious.

You explain again about the baby, her mother, and the situation.

Andrew sighs loudly. “I’m sure you understand we get calls like this constantly. Lando isn’t even in the hemisphere right now. I’m afraid we can’t help you.”

“No, wait, please!” But the line goes dead.

You frown, gears turning. The team must think you’re some obsessed fan or scammer. You’ll have to get creative.

Over the next two days, you call every related number you can find. Each time you’re met with more resistance. They must have flagged your information as a nuisance caller.

On the third day, you’re signing charts at the nurse’s station when a colleague walks by. “Did you hear? Lando Norris is coming to take a tour of the hospital next week. Some charity thing.”

Your eyes widen. This is it — your chance to intercept him in person!

You spend the next few days obsessing over what to say, how to convince him. Baby Girl Norris needs her father.

The big day arrives. Heart hammering, you lurk near the lobby, peering around the hallway corner as Lando walks in flanked by handlers. He looks exhausted but flashes his winning smile at the staff welcoming him.

You watch them start down the opposite hallway for the tour when you make your move. Rushing forward, you plant yourself firmly in his path.

“Mr. Norris! Sorry, I need just a minute of your time, it’s urgent-”

A member of his team immediately swoops in, pushing you back. “Ma’am, please. We kindly ask that you step aside.”

“No, wait!” You raise your voice over them. “Mr. Norris, my name is Dr. Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a pediatrician here. I’ve been trying to reach you for days now regarding your newborn daughter!”

The team looks exasperated, but Lando holds up a hand. “It’s okay, let her speak.” His eyes bore into yours warily.

You take a breath. “I know this sounds insane. But a baby girl was born here last week to a French student named Celeste Dubois. On the birth certificate, she named you as the father before signing away parental rights.”

You continue explaining the situation rapidly, watching Lando’s eyes widen in shock.

One of his handlers steps in. “You honestly expect us to believe this wild story? We’re on a timeline.” He tries to tug Lando along.

“No, it’s okay.” Lando stands firm, studying you intently. “What proof do you have of any of this?”

You hold his gaze. “I can show you the birth certificate, but a DNA test would confirm if you’re the father. It’s hospital policy to notify and provide the father an opportunity to assume custody.”

Lando chews his lip nervously. His team murmurs among themselves.

After a long pause, he speaks. “Even if this is some scam or mix-up, that poor child deserves to have answers. Please, lead the way for a test.”

You breathe a sigh of relief. Wordlessly, you turn and lead Lando to the lab. His team protests but he insists on following through.

In the lab, you supervise as the technician takes a simple cheek swab. “24 to 48 hours for results,” she confirms.

Lando nods, looking dazed. “Right. Okay. If she’s really mine, I want to step up. Just call me, yeah?” He extends his number on a slip of paper.

You smile and promise to be in touch. As he turns to leave, you feel swarmed with emotions. One major hurdle down, but nothing certain yet.

The next 48 hours pass at a snail’s pace. When the lab calls, your fingers shake as you unfold the results. Positive. A 99.99% match.

You pass along the news and arrange a meeting at the hospital. The press can’t know about this yet.

Approaching the secluded waiting room, you pause to observe Lando through the window. He paces nervously, running his hands through his hair again and again. His usual polished veneer is gone, replaced by a young man anxiously awaiting life-changing news. Your heart goes out to him.

Finally knocking, he whirls around as you enter. “Well? Is she really mine?”

You nod, holding out the results. He accepts them with unsteady hands.

“I’m sorry I ever doubted you,” he says quietly. “This is just ... a lot.”

“I understand. It’s a complicated situation. But you’re here now.” You offer an encouraging smile.

Lando takes a deep breath. “Can I meet her?”

You lead him to the nursery viewing room. He presses against the glass, eyes scanning until they settle on bassinet D7. His brows knit together.

“That’s her?” His voice wavers slightly.

You nod. “Would you like to go inside and hold her?”

He hesitates. “I don’t want to confuse or upset her.”

You gesture reassuringly. “Newborns seek warmth and a gentle touch. She’ll appreciate the contact.”

Looking uncertain, Lando follows you into the nursery. You lift the swaddled baby, carefully transferring her into Lando’s awkward embrace. He peers down at her, his expression unreadable.

“She’s so tiny ...” he murmurs. The newborn girl yawns, eyes still shut, snuggling instinctively into his chest.

Lando’s guarded facade finally cracks, eyes glistening. He adjusts his arms to cradle her more securely.

“Hi there,” he whispers. “I’m your ...” He trails off, not quite able to say it.

You touch his shoulder gently. “You’re her father. And she needs you.”

He nods, never breaking his gaze from the newborn’s face. “I’ll do right by her, I promise. Whatever it takes.”

Relief sweeps over you. While an arduous legal process awaits, this sweet child will finally have a real family.

As Lando rocks the baby gently, he suddenly laughs. “She’s a real beauty, isn’t she? Look at that hair. Thick and curly, just like her old man.”

You chuckle. “It appears so. Have you thought about a name?”

He hums contemplatively. “I’ve always been partial to Georgia. Gigi for short.”

“Georgia Norris,” you say with a smile. “It’s perfect.”

The new father beams down at his daughter. “Welcome to the world, little Gigi. I can’t wait to take you home.”

As you observe this tender moment, your heart swells for both father and daughter. With someone as loving and dedicated as Lando by her side, Gigi’s future looks bright indeed.

Watching them meet for the first time — seeing a family begin to blossom out of hardship and uncertainty — is the greatest reward of your job. As you quietly slip out to give them space, you can’t hold back a smile. Everything, after all, is turning out exactly as it should.

***

After spending over an hour bonding with his newborn daughter in the nursery, Lando reluctantly hands her back to the nurse for feeding time. He turns to you, smiling but still looking dazed.

“I can’t thank you enough, Y/N. Really. You’ve given me and Gigi a new start.”

You touch his arm warmly. “Of course. I’m so glad I could help connect you two. She’s absolutely beautiful.”

Lando grins proudly. “She really is perfect. I already love her so much, it’s mad. I just ...” His face falls slightly. “I don’t have the first clue how to actually take care of a baby. Let alone with my job, traveling all the time for races and training. What have I gotten myself into?”

He runs an anxious hand through his curls. Your heart goes out to him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” You gesture for him to follow you out to the waiting room for privacy.

Lando collapses onto the sofa, head in hands. “Sorry, I’m just now fully realizing what this means. A baby, she’s completely dependent on me! I don’t know the first thing about babies. I’m barely an adult myself!”

You sit beside him. “Lando, look at me.” He lifts his head reluctantly. You offer an encouraging smile.

“It’s normal to feel overwhelmed. But you stepped up when Gigi needed you most. That’s what matters. With some guidance, you’ll be an amazing father.”

He doesn’t look convinced. You continue gently, “Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll give you all the essential information for first-time parents. I’ll even set you up with parenting classes, and we have a support group-”

Lando groans loudly, letting his head fall back. You suppress a chuckle.

“Okay, forget classes for now. Just focus on learning the basics. Things like feeding, changing, bathing. Infant CPR. I’ll give you my cell to text with questions anytime. Day or night.”

You jot down your number and hand it to him. He nods, looking slightly encouraged.

“We’ll also get you connected with services that can assist first-time parents with supplies, nutrition consultants, and childcare options.”

His eyes widen again. “God, I haven’t even told my family yet! Or bought anything she’ll need!” He scrubs at his face anxiously.

You lay a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Breathe. Setbacks are expected. But you’ll get there.”

Lando takes a deep breath, regaining some composure. “You’re right. Sorry for the meltdown. I really appreciate you talking me down.”

“Don’t apologize. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t at all anxious about this huge life change.”

You smile warmly. “But you accepted your daughter unconditionally when it mattered most. Not every man in your position would do that. I know you’ll figure the rest out over time. It’s a process.”

He nods, starting to calm down. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. We’ll take it step by step.”

You spend the next hour walking Lando through all the basics — safe sleep, feeding schedules, hygiene, developmental milestones, and pediatrician visits. He takes vigorous notes on his phone, determination returning to his face.

“Clothes, blankets, nappies, bottles ...” He mumbles to himself as he types. “Maybe pick up a parenting book or two as well ...”

You grin, happy to see him growing more at ease and optimistic. When the nurse returns with a sleeping Gigi, Lando immediately takes her back into his arms.

“We’ve got this, little one,” he whispers to her. “I’ll give you the absolute best in life … starting with a nice new flat for us here in Monaco.” He looks back at you questioningly.

You nod in approval. “Giving Gigi a stable home should be your top priority.”

He smiles down at the baby, gently stroking her cheek. “Daddy will take good care of you. I promise.”

Your heart swells at the natural bond already forming between father and daughter. In this moment, any lingering doubts fade away. However difficult the road ahead, together they’ll be just fine.

After another hour visiting together, it’s time for Lando to head out. He’s clearly still anxious but also radiating love when he gazes at Gigi.

“Thank you again for everything,” he says sincerely, shaking your hand. “I’ll call my parents when I get home. Figure out how to break the news and beg for their help.”

He chuckles and you join in. “Don’t hesitate to text me anytime. About anything.”

Lando glances down at your scrawled cell number, then back up with a crooked grin. “Careful or I might take you up on the anything part.”

You blush slightly, waving him off. “Get out of here, you charmer. Go buy a crib and get some rest. Your life is about to get very busy.”

With a laugh, Lando walks backwards toward the exit, pointing finger guns at you. “Yes ma’am, Dr. Y/L/N. Catch you later.”

You stand shaking your head as he disappears from view. What an interesting patient case this has turned out to be.

Over the next several weeks, you and Lando text constantly. He sends cute videos and photos of Gigi along with his near-constant questions about her care. You don’t mind at all — you’re happy to guide him through this life transition.

True to his word, he quickly finds and furnishes a family-friendly luxury apartment in Monaco. He introduces Gigi to his stunned but excited parents via video call. He adjusts his training schedule to maximize time with her.

When his race travel resumes, he arranges for his parents or a local nanny to assist with Gigi full-time. Still, being apart takes an obvious toll on him.

The day before he’s set to fly to Australia for the first race of the season, Lando texts you a selfie looking forlorn, with Gigi snoozing on his chest.

Can you believe she’s already a month old? I don’t want to leave her!

You grin down at the photo. Gigi’s little rosebud lips are slightly parted as she sleeps. Lando’s staring at her adoringly despite the bags under his eyes.

I know it’s hard being away from her. But Gigi knows she has a father who loves her so much. Focus on making her proud out there!

You always know just what to say, doc. I’ll text you after the race!

You smile softly as you set down your phone. Over the past weeks, you’ve found yourself looking forward to Lando’s frequent messages and photos. He’s relieved when you reassure him he’s doing a great job as a new dad. And seeing Gigi thrive and grow under his doting care makes your heart fuller.

Professionally, your work is done now that Gigi and Lando are connected. But you can’t help feeling personally invested in this little family you helped create. You make a silent vow to always be there for them both, as long as they need you.

***

Weeks later, you’re jolted awake by your ringing cellphone. Bleary-eyed, you check the time: 2:37 am. Who could be calling at this hour?

You don’t recognize the number on your buzzing phone. But you answer anyway, just in case it’s an emergency.

“Hello?” You mumble into the phone.

“Y/N? Oh thank god!” The panicked voice on the other end makes you sit bolt upright.

Lando.

“Lando? What’s wrong?” Worry floods your system, instantly washing away any grogginess.

“It’s Georgia,” he cries. “She woke up crying and felt so hot. I took her temperature — it’s 39 degrees! I think she has a fever?”

You’re already throwing off your blankets, phone tucked against your shoulder. “Okay, stay calm. How is she acting otherwise?”

“She’s crying and really fussy. Won’t take her bottle. I don’t know what to do!” Lando sounds near tears himself.

“Shhh, deep breath,” you soothe. “Fever in babies this young is serious. You need to take her to emergency department right away.”

“Right, emergency, of course-” Lando rambles nervously.

“I’ll meet you there ASAP. Princess Grace Hospital, yes?”

“Yes, please hurry!” He ends the call abruptly. You scramble for clothes with adrenaline pounding.

In under ten minutes, you’re peeling out of your driveway towards the hospital. Even at this hour, Monaco’s streets remain congested. You drum your fingers anxiously on the steering wheel, praying Georgia will be okay.

Once you’ve parked, you race inside the ED doors. Your eyes scan the crowded waiting room until you spot Lando pacing in the corner, Georgia whimpering against his shoulder.

You rush over. “Lando!”

He turns, relief washing over his features. “Y/N, you came. Thank you.”

“Of course.” You squeeze his arm comfortingly before looking Georgia over with practiced eyes. Her cheeks are flushed, eyelids fluttering as she whines. Definitely not well.

Lando bounces lightly, trying to soothe her. “They told me it’s at least an hour wait. She’s getting worse though.” His eyes glisten with tears.

Your protective instincts flare, seeing them both so distraught. Striding to the check-in desk, you put on your most authoritative voice.

“Excuse me, I’m Dr. Y/L/N. I have an infant patient here who needs immediate evaluation.”

The nurse scans the packed waiting room. “I’m so sorry doctor, we’re doing our best. If you could just wait-”

You interrupt firmly. “This is a seven week old with a spiking fever. She requires urgent triage and treatment, not a waiting room. I must insist we be seen next.”

The nurse purses her lips, but can’t really argue with your reasoning. “Of course. I’ll let the charge nurse know to get you back immediately.”

You nod curtly before returning to Lando, who looks awed. “Blimey, remind me not to get on your bad side.”

The hint of a smile on his lips relieves you. Georgia’s still fussy as you both follow a nurse back moments later.

In an exam room, you help transfer the baby from Lando’s arms to the table. Her pitiful crying tugs at your heart.

Lando hovers anxiously as you take Georgia’s vitals and change her into a hospital gown. 39.1°C — higher than the concerning range for an infant. You frown in worry. Poor little love.

Soon the attending pediatrician arrives to assess her. You explain the situation from Lando’s frantic call to racing over. The doctor asks questions while examining Georgia’s ears, throat, and reflexes. Lando clutches your hand tightly the entire time.

After what feels like an eternity, the pediatrician steps back. “Given the fever with no apparent source, I’m concerned this could be a serious bacterial infection. We’ll run labs to check for things like meningitis. Start IV antibiotics and paracetamol to bring her fever down quickly.”

Lando pales, swaying slightly at the onslaught of medical terms. You slip an arm around him supportively.

“You’re saying she might have meningitis?” Lando chokes out.

The doctor holds up his hands. “It’s just one possibility. We’re not sure yet. The labs will tell us more.”

Lando buries his face in his hands. Your heart breaks seeing his shoulders shaking.

After the doctor departs to order tests, you guide Lando to sit down, keeping an arm around him. “Hey, try to breathe. Georgia needs her daddy calm and strong right now.”

Lando drags a hand over his wet eyes. “God, I’m trying. But she’s so little and sick. What if … what if it’s something serious?” His voice breaks again.

You turn him gently to face you, hands on his shoulders. “Listen to me. Whatever is going on, we will figure it out, okay? I’m right here with you both.”

He searches your face before nodding unsteadily. You draw him into a fierce hug.

“We’ve got this,” you whisper.

A nurse entering startles you apart. “Alright, time for labs.”

You both watch anxiously as she collects blood and other samples from a deeply unhappy Georgia. Her shrieking cries at the poking and prodding are harrowing. Lando has gone deathly pale.

Once finished, the nurse situates an IV line in Georgia’s tiny hand, securing it with tape and popping a pacifier in her mouth. Her eyelids droop, cries fading to soft whimpers as medication starts flowing.

You glance at Lando. “Why don’t you hold her again? Skin to skin contact will help soothe you both.”

Looking relieved by the suggestion, Lando strips off his shirt and takes Georgia, nestling her against his bare chest. You drape a blanket over them before rubbing his back comfortingly.

Georgia’s fussing settles as her father hums softly, eyes never leaving her face. The pure love between them makes your throat tighten.

Despite the uncertainty ahead, you know Georgia couldn’t be in better hands. And you silently vow to remain steadfast by their side, for whatever comes next.

Eventually Georgia drifts to sleep. The pediatrician returns shortly after with test results. “Good news. All the cultures are negative so far. With the antibiotics and paracetamol, her fever is already decreasing.”

You and Lando both sigh in relief.

“So no meningitis?” Lando asks hopefully.

The doctor shakes his head. “Doesn’t appear to be. We’ll repeat testing tomorrow, but likely just a minor bacterial infection. She’ll need to stay a few days for monitoring and fluids.”

Lando clutches Georgia closer. “Anything she needs. Thank you, doctor.”

Once you’re alone again, Lando gazes down at his sleeping daughter. “I was so scared,” he admits softly.

You nod, squeezing his shoulder. “I know. But she’s getting great care now. Try and rest — it’s been a long night.”

Lando glances at the empty cot along the wall. “Stay? Please? I … I don’t want to be alone right now.” His voice sounds so small and vulnerable.

Your chest tightens. “Of course.”

You help shift Lando and Georgia onto the little bed. She stirs slightly as you both get settled on either side of her.

Lando strokes Georgia’s cheek tenderly. “My brave girl. You’re going to be just fine.” Glancing up, his eyes meet yours. “Thank you, Y/N. For everything.”

You offer a tired smile, taking his hand. “That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep.”

Exhaustion quickly pulls you under. But Lando’s hand remains wrapped firmly in yours until morning.

A strong bond has formed between the three of you. And you know that whatever the future brings, you’ll be facing it together.

***

A few weeks after the scare, you’re finishing paperwork at your desk when your cell rings. Lando’s name pops up, making you smile.

Since the hospitalization, you and Lando have fallen into a routine of near daily calls and texts about Georgia. You don’t mind at all — you adore hearing the latest antics and milestones of your special little patient. Not to mention Lando’s voice tends to brighten your day.

You answer warmly. “Lando! How are my favorite patients today?”

He chuckles. “Well, Georgia just mastered holding her head up while on her tummy. She’s getting so strong! But uh, that’s actually why I’m calling ...”

You detect the hesitancy in his tone. “What’s up?”

Lando sighs. “So McLaren just sprung a mandatory sponsorship meeting on me last minute. It’s in like an hour. I don’t have any childcare lined up though.”

You frown sympathetically. The demands of Lando’s career often collide with new parenthood. “Oh no. Can you reschedule or bring Georgia with you?”

“I tried, but it’s impossible to postpone. And definitely not an ideal environment for a baby,” he laments. “I don’t have any family nearby and my usual nanny said it’s too short notice.”

Your thoughts race, heart sinking at imagining his distress. “Hmm. Well, do you happen to have any trusted neighbors or friends there who could babysit?”

Lando makes a frustrated noise. “I’ve barely met my neighbors. And my mates, well, most are even less qualified than me for childcare. I’m stuck.” Defeat colors his tone.

You bite your lip, hesitating only a moment before saying gently, “Lando, I could come watch her.”

“What? Really?” He sounds stunned. “But isn’t it your day off?”

“It’s no problem, truly,” you insist. “I don’t live far. Be there in fifteen?”

“I-I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver, Y/N. Thank you, thank you!” Lando gushes gratefully.

You smile, already grabbing your keys. “Anytime. See you soon!”

On the drive over, butterflies flutter in your stomach. You adore Georgia, of course. But something about visiting Lando’s home, being fully immersed in his world, feels monumentally intimate.

Taking a deep breath, you remind yourself that your priority is helping a friend in need.

You park outside Lando’s sleek modern condo building and take the elevator up after checking in with the concierge. Before you can even knock, the front door swings open.

“Y/N, thank god,” Lando sighs in relief. He looks unfairly attractive despite being slightly disheveled in a dress shirt and slacks. “Please, come in.”

Stepping inside the open concept condo, your eyes sweep over minimalist furniture and racing memorabilia decorating the shelves. Cozy baby items like a playmat and bouncer provide stark contrast. It’s uniquely Lando.

“Nice place,” you remark sincerely.

“Thanks. Still feels empty sometimes, but slowly making it a home for Gigi.” He smiles softly. “Speaking of which ...”

You follow Lando down a short hallway to the nursery. Your heart melts at the sight of Georgia kicking on a playmat, wearing a pink romper with a giant bow.

Lando swoops her up, blowing raspberries on her cheek. “Daddy’s got a big important meeting, princess. But Y/N is going to play with you instead.”

He passes the baby over. Georgia gives you a gummy smile, cooing.

“There’s my sweet girl.” You tickle her belly, eliciting a giggle. Lando beams proudly.

“Alright, her bottle is prepped in the fridge, and there’s clean nappies on the change table. Call if you need anything at all.”

Lando leans down to kiss Georgia’s head. “Be good for Y/N, monkey.”

With a final grateful smile your way, he heads out. You settle on the nursery floor with Georgia. “What adventures shall we have today, miss?”

The next few hours pass in a blur of playing, feeding, changing, and rocking little Georgia. You even manage a nap time by singing softly, something that always seemed to soothe her in the hospital.

Watching her sleep, you feel a rush of tenderness for the tiny being who has depended on you since her first moments. You vow to always be there when Lando and Georgia need you.

Soon enough, Lando returns home looking drained. But his whole face lights up seeing you and Georgia on the floor.

“How’d it go?” He asks, crouching down to tickle her toes.

“Perfect. We had lots of fun, isn’t that right, lovebug?” You hand the baby over for cuddles.

“Daddy missed you.” Lando nuzzles Georgia, before giving you a grateful smile. “I can’t thank you enough. Truly. You’re a natural with her.”

You wave off his praise, but can’t deny the warm spark his words ignite.

After chatting a bit more about Georgia’s afternoon and Lando’s meeting, it’s time for you to head out.

At the door, Lando halts you with a gentle hand on your wrist.

“Hey, let me take you to dinner this week — a proper thank you,” he entreats. “Anywhere you like.”

Your pulse quickens. It sounds suspiciously close to a date. But Lando’s smiling hopefully, and you find yourself nodding before overthinking it.

“I’d love that.”

Lando grins, looking both relieved and excited. “Brilliant! I’ll text you details. Have a safe drive home.”

Strapping into your car, your thoughts race wildly. This man and his daughter have captured your heart. What started as a professional duty has grown into so much more.

As you drive away, Lando and Georgia waving from the window, you can’t keep the giddy smile off your face.

Your lives are intertwining in the most marvelous ways. And you can’t wait to see what adventures are in store next.

***

The following Saturday evening, you stand in front of the mirror, fussing with your hair and makeup. Glancing at the clock, you feel butterflies swarming. Lando will arrive any minute to pick you up for dinner.

You smooth non-existent wrinkles from your knee-length black dress. It’s daringly low cut for you, but you want to feel beautiful tonight.

A buzz from your phone makes you jolt. Lando is here! Taking a deep breath, you grab your purse and hurry downstairs.

Stepping outside your apartment building, you freeze in awe. Gleaming in the golden hour sunlight is a sleek dark blue vintage supercar unlike any other you’ve seen before.

The driver door opens, and Lando steps out looking devastatingly handsome in a tailored suit. He beams. “Wow, Y/N. You look absolutely stunning.”

You blush at the sincerity in his warm gaze. “Thank you. This is … quite the car!”

Lando grins, patting the hood affectionately. “She’s my baby — a Lamborghini Miura. Isn’t she a beauty?”

You take in the aerodynamic lines and what you can only assume is a very powerful engine. “Gorgeous. And probably costs more than my yearly income.”

Lando laughs. “But she’s perfect for impressing a lovely date.” He winks before opening the passenger door for you.

You carefully climb in, hyper aware of the tiny black dress riding up your thighs. Lando’s eyes trace your legs appreciatively as you smooth your skirt.

Soon you’re zipping through the seaside city, wind whipping your hair through the open windows. Lando navigates the roads expertly.

He glances your way. “Hope this is alright! Wanted to take the fun car out while the weather holds up.”

You grin at him. “Are you kidding? I feel like a movie star!”

He looks delighted, picking up speed as you both relax into the ride.

Before long, you pull up at the legendary Hotel de Paris Monte-Carlo. A uniformed valet opens your door. Taking the proffered hand, you step out feeling like a princess.

Lando offers his arm. “Shall we?”

Inside the opulent restaurant, you’re quickly shown to an intimate table beside a window overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea. Soft piano music fills the space.

“Lando, this is incredible,” you breathe, taking it all in.

He smiles, eyes never leaving your face. “Only the best for you.”

You blush again at his sincerity. A waiter appears to take your drink order. When you request just water, Lando insists you pick any wine on the menu.

You settle on a creamy chardonnay that pairs perfectly with your scallops and Lando’s steak. Thoughtful touches like him pulling out your chair or refilling your wine glass make the lavish meal all the more special.

The conversation flows effortlessly from racing to traveling to favourite films and music. More than once, Lando’s foot brushes yours beneath the table, sending sparks skittering across your skin.

After dessert, you both linger over coffee, hands unconsciously joined on the pristine tablecloth between you. The connection humming between you feels profound.

When Lando finally checks his watch with a reluctant sigh, you’re surprised to see you’ve been there for over three hours. It felt like mere minutes.

On the drive back, you steal glances at his sharp profile in the fading light. Joy bubbles inside you. The evening exceeded your wildest expectations.

Too soon, you’re pulling up outside your building. Lando hurries around to open your door, ever the gentleman. Clasping his hand, you step out onto the curb together.

Turning, you find him watching you closely. “I had the most wonderful time tonight,” you say sincerely.

Lando’s face breaks into a grin. “Truly magical. Thank you for coming, Y/N.” He squeezes your hand, thumb tracing delicate circles.

On impulse, you lean up and press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Goodnight, Lando.”

With a final squeeze of his hand, you turn and walk inside, casting a coy look back to see him touching his cheek in wonder.

Safely in your apartment, you kick off your heels, collapsing onto the sofa with a giddy smile. The evening played in your mind like a movie — the fancy car, exquisite dinner, effortless conversation. And that powerful connection with Lando blossoming into something new and tender.

What started as a professional relationship has organically grown into a deep friendship over your shared love of little Georgia. But tonight awoke a yearning for more. You sensed the same from Lando in the way he looked at you — with affection, wonder, and desire.

You drift off on the couch still reliving each vivid moment. This feels like the start of something life changing.

Meanwhile, Lando remains fixed outside your building, fingers brushing the spot your lips graced. The soft press seared an imprint deep within him.

People had warned him pursuing anything romantic with Georgia’s physician was unwise. But from the instant he saw you holding his fragile newborn girl, instinct told him you were special. That only grew each day as your compassion and devotion soothed his frightened heart.

Tonight confirmed what he felt blooming for weeks now — he’s completely enchanted by you.

With your laughter still echoing in his mind, Lando finally drives off into the night. He knows his future, wherever it leads, must have you and Georgia in it. He’s falling, fast and hard.

And for once, recklessly chasing his heart feels entirely right. He just hopes you’ll take this leap with him.

***

On a sunny afternoon, you’re sitting cross-legged on Lando’s living room rug playing with Georgia. At nearly four months old now, she’s mastered rolling over and absolutely loves tummy time.

You grin as she determinedly pushes up on her hands, rocking back and forth. “That’s it, clever girl! You’ve almost got it.”

Georgia gives you a gummy smile before toppling over with a huff. Behind you, Lando chuckles from the couch where he’s on hold with a takeaway place.

“I swear she gets more stubborn every day. Definitely takes after me,” he remarks fondly.

You smile. “She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to work for it. Sound familiar?”

Lando laughs. “Too right. At this rate, she’ll be racing cars herself soon.”

You’re about to respond when the sound of the front door opening makes you both freeze. Before you can react, an accented female voice calls out excitedly.

“Lando, darling! Surprise, we’ve come to visit!”

Lando flies off the couch just as his parents round the corner. “Mum! Dad! What are you doing here?”

He embraces them both tightly while you hover awkwardly behind Georgia. What must Lando’s family think finding a strange woman playing with their grandchild?

But before you can open your mouth to explain, Lando’s mum spots you. Her face lights up. “Y/N! How wonderful to finally meet you in person!”

To your shock, she swoops down and hugs you like a long lost relative. Bewildered, you return the embrace.

Over her shoulder, Lando rubs his neck sheepishly. “Yeah, I may have told them a fair bit about you and Gigi ...”

His father approaches next, politely shaking your hand. “Lando speaks very highly of you, Y/N. Thank you for taking such good care of our boy and the little one.”

“Oh, um, of course!” You manage to stammer out. Lando mentioned you to his parents? The thought makes your heart flutter wildly.

Before you can dwell on it, Georgia lets out an impatient shriek from her abandoned tummy time.

Cisca gasps, immediately scooping her up. “Oh my goodness, look how big you’ve gotten, baby girl!” She tickles Georgia’s belly, eliciting sweet giggles.

Lando smiles softly at the sight. You feel privileged to witness this intimate family moment.

Soon you’re all seated around the living room, chatting comfortably. Adam keeps throwing not-so-subtle winks Lando’s way whenever you and Cisca fawn over Georgia together. Lando just shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushed.

Later, his parents insist on taking you both out to dinner at a nice restaurant. Over the meal, you observe how Cisca’s animated mannerisms and Adam’s dry wit remind you so much of Lando. He clearly inherited the best of both.

Walking back to the car afterwards, Cisca links her arm through yours fondly. “I’m just thrilled Lando has you looking after him and little Georgia. It takes a very special woman to so selflessly love and support someone else’s child.”

You squeeze her arm, touched. “Well, they make it easy. I’d do anything for those two.”

Cisca pats your hand knowingly. “I can see that, dear. Don’t ever let my son take that for granted.”

Glancing ahead, you watch Lando swinging a sleepy Georgia in his arms, gazing down at her with pure adoration. Your heart clenches.

“I don’t think that’s possible. He’s the most devoted father imaginable,” you reply softly.

Cisca follows your gaze, smiling. “He is at that. Just like his own.”

Adam wraps an arm around his wife, kissing her temple. Cisca leans into him with a contented sigh. Their easy intimacy and abiding love is relationship goals.

You find yourself sneaking another peek at Lando, imagining strolling arm in arm like that one day. But it’s too soon for such daydreams.

Still, meeting his wonderful parents today, seeing how he talks about you … it feels like things are shifting into place.

That night, as Lando walks you to your car, he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “Thank you again for today. You were brilliant with my parents — they’re absolutely smitten.”

You grin. “They’re lovely. I see where you get it from.”

Lando rolls his eyes but smiles bashfully. An impulse has you leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Goodnight, Lando.” With a little wave, you slip into your car before he can respond.

But the awestruck look on Lando’s face stays with you the whole drive home. Something big is on the horizon, you can feel it.

And if the way his family embraced you today is any indication, you have their full support too. You’ve never been more excited about what the future holds.

***

A few days later, you’re rushing around your apartment getting ready. Lando invited you over for dinner and a movie tonight while his parents watch Georgia. You’ve been looking forward to the rare child-free evening all week.

After debating outfit options, you decide on form fitting jeans and a silky camisole. Casual yet flirty. Dabbing on a bit of perfume, you check yourself in the mirror. You want to knock his socks off.

Precisely at six, your phone chimes with a text from Lando that he’s waiting outside. Taking a deep breath, you go meet him.

As expected, he looks effortlessly handsome leaning against his flashy car grinning at you. “Well don’t you look gorgeous tonight,” he remarks, opening your door.

You smirk, settling into the low seat. “Not looking too bad yourself, Mr. Norris.”

Lando just winks before speeding off into the golden hour sunlight. You chat easily throughout the short drive about your days apart. When you mention missing Georgia, Lando smiles softly.

“Me too, constantly. But she’s in great hands with my parents tonight.” Reaching over, he gives your hand an affectionate squeeze that makes your heart race.

Soon you pull up outside Lando’s sleek condo building. He leads you upstairs, fingers entwined.

Inside, mouthwatering aromas fill the air. You follow Lando to the kitchen where pots bubble away on the stove.

“I hope you’re hungry. My dad’s recipe for chicken curry.” Lando stirs one of the pots before glancing at you shyly. “I may have been practicing all week.”

You grin, touched that he went to such effort. “It smells incredible! I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Full of surprises.” Lando winks. “Now you just relax while I finish up.”

You perch at the kitchen island while Lando works. The domesticity of it all makes your chest feel warm. You could definitely get used to this.

Soon dinner is served along with a crisp white wine. You compliment Lando between bites, making him preen. Everything is delicious.

Over dessert, your feet become entangled beneath the small table. The simmering looks passing between you leave no doubt this is a date.

With dishes cleared, Lando leads you to the living room. “Now, the entertainment portion of the evening.” He gestures grandly towards the large TV.

You settle onto the plush grey sectional while Lando queues up your chosen rom-com. Before pressing play, he pauses.

“Do you maybe want to get more comfortable?” He gestures to the blanket and abundance of throw pillows nearby.

You smile, touched at how he’s trying to create a cozy movie watching environment. “That sounds perfect.”

Working together, you both strip down to t-shirts and lounge pants, then arrange the pillows and blankets into a comfy nest. Your heart races at the intimacy of it all.

Lando opens his arms for you to curl against his chest. You sigh, breathing in his comforting scent. His steady heartbeat thrums beneath your ear as the movie starts.

About halfway through, you glance up to see Lando staring down at you tenderly, movie forgotten. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, fingers trailing down to tilt your chin up. Eyes fluttering shut, you lean in as his lips meet yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

Everything around you fades away. The only sensation is Lando’s gentle lips moving with yours, laced with warmth and affection.

When you finally break apart, faces lingering close, he exhales shakily. “Wow. That was ...”

“Perfect,” you whisper, caressing his stubbled cheek. Lando nuzzles into your touch.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a very long time,” he admits with a crooked smile.

You grin. “What took you so long?”

Lando laughs, pulling you closer again. Your lips find their way back together naturally. With your legs entwined and his hand trailing up and down your back, you lose all track of time and space.

Eventually you pull back just to catch your breath, lips pleasantly swollen. Lando strokes your hair tenderly.

“Y/N, you must know by now how truly special you are to me. From the moment we met, I felt fate bringing us together. And I never want to let you go.” His eyes search yours intently.

Your pulse quickens. “Lando ...”

“What I’m trying to say is ...” He takes a deep breath. “Will you be my girlfriend? Officially?”

Joy erupts inside you as you throw your arms around his neck. “Yes, I’d love nothing more!”

Lando’s delighted laughter vibrates against you as he squeezes you tight. You stay locked in an embrace, trading giddy kisses until sleepiness inevitably sets in.

Lando carries you to bed, tucking you both under the covers with your head pillowed on his chest. You drift off smiling, his steady heartbeat your lullaby.

Waking wrapped in Lando’s arms the next morning feels like pure bliss. He stirs, blinking awake to see you watching him fondly.

“Morning, beautiful.” Lando caresses your cheek before capturing your lips in a tender good morning kiss.

You hum contentedly. “I could get very used to this.”

“Well luckily, you’re my girlfriend now. So you’re stuck with me.” He grins playfully.

You snuggle impossibly closer. “Wouldn’t want it any other way.”

***

On a sunny spring morning, you’re in Lando’s kitchen pureeing some bananas for Georgia’s breakfast. At nearly one year old now, she’s mastered eating soft finger foods.

Lando wanders in with Georgia propped on his hip, her dark curls tied up in adorable pigtails. “Someone’s ready for her breakfast!”

You grin, smoothing Georgia’s hair back to kiss her chubby cheek. “Morning, my darling! Got your bananas all ready.”

Lando settles Georgia into her high chair, handing you her baby spoon shaped like a rabbit. “Not sure who’s more excited about mealtimes now, her or me,” he jokes.

You laugh. “Gotta get our girl fed so she has energy to get into everything!”

Georgia bangs her hands impatiently on the tray until you scoop up a spoonful of bananas. “Alright, here comes the Formula 1 car!”

You zoom the spoon around playfully before popping it in her mouth. Georgia squeals in delight, kicking her little feet.

Lando leans against the counter smiling as you continue taking turns feeding her. When the last bites are finished, he grabs a washcloth to wipe Georgia’s sticky face and hands.

“Who’s my big girl eating like such a pro?” He coos, tickling her belly. Georgia dissolves into adorable giggles.

Setting the washcloth down, Lando brushes a stray banana strand from her hair. “You’re the sweetest, most beautiful girl in the whole world. Yes you are!”

Georgia beams up at him, waving her hands excitedly. Then clear as day, she exclaims “Mama!”

You freeze in shock. Did she just ...

Lando’s eyes fly to yours, equally stunned. An awkward tension instantly permeates the room.

“I-I never encouraged that, I swear,” Lando rushes to explain, panicked. “I always call you by name when I talk about you to her.”

“No no, of course, I didn’t think-” You halt, flustered. “I would never try to make her call me ...” You can’t even say it, heart pounding wildly.

A heavy silence falls. You avert your eyes, anxiously twisting the washcloth between your hands.

Lando scrubs a hand down his face. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know why she ...” He trails off helplessly.

After a long pause, Lando touches your arm gently. “Hey, look at me?”

You reluctantly meet his earnest gaze. Lando takes your hands in his, tone serious.

“Y/N, you must know how much I respect your role in Georgia’s life. We’re partners in this, fully. I would never try to force a maternal label on you.”

His obvious sincerity makes you instantly relax. Offering a small smile, you squeeze his hands.

“Of course. I didn’t think that. It just took me by surprise is all.” You take a deep breath before continuing hesitantly.

“But, well … the idea of Georgia seeing me that way doesn’t scare me. Not if it happens naturally.” You chance a glance at Lando through your lashes.

His eyes soften. “Truly?” At your shy nod, a smile spreads across his face.

“Because, well, I was thinking the same.” Lando cradles your face between his palms. “You already are a mum to her in every way that matters.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Joy and relief flood your system.

Georgia makes an impatient noise, breaking the tender spell. You both chuckle.

Lando lifts her from the chair into his arms. “Don’t worry princess, your mama isn’t going anywhere.”

Hearing those words from Lando sends your heart soaring. You join the cuddle, Georgia nestled happily between you.

“Our sweet girl,” Lando murmurs, meeting your gaze over her little head. The pure love reflected back at you erases any lingering doubts.

You place a soft kiss to Georgia’s curls, then lean up to capture Lando’s lips. The promise of your future together never felt stronger.

Many more milestones await, for Georgia and your relationship both. But you know without question that the bonds between you three will only continue growing deeper.

Of all the twists and turns on this journey, your little family is the sweetest gift of all.

***

The day of the Monaco Grand Prix dawns bright and clear. You finish braiding Georgia’s hair as she babbles happily. At 18 months old now, her vocabulary expands daily.

“There we go, pretty girl! All set to cheer on Daddy!”

Georgia grins. “Dada race!”

You smile, smoothing her dress. “That’s right, darling!”

A knock sounds right before Lando pokes his head into the nursery. “My two favorite girls about ready?”

Scooping up Georgia, you turn so he can admire her race day outfit. “Well don’t we look beautiful!” Lando tickles Georgia’s tummy before pulling you both into a hug.

“I can’t tell you how much it means to have you both here today,” he says softly.

You squeeze him tight. As a pediatrician, getting full weekends off for races proved nearly impossible. But for Monaco, you moved mountains.

“We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you assure him. Lando’s responding smile warms your heart.

The energy at the track is electric. Georgia’s eyes widen taking in all the sights and sounds. You carry her through the paddock towards the McLaren garage, Lando greeting various people along the way.

Inside, Lando steals a quick kiss. “I better go get suited up. See you after?”

You nod, adjusting a squirmy Georgia on your hip. “We’ll be cheering the loudest!”

Lando changes into his race suit, then leads you both over to his car. Georgia is mesmerized, reaching a tiny hand towards the shiny machine.

“That’s right munchkin, this is what Daddy drives!” Lando points out key features, then grabs a helmet from a crew member.

“Want to try it on?” Not waiting for an answer, Lando gently fits the helmet over Georgia’s curls. She immediately shrieks in delight.

Laughing, Lando scoops her up, zooming her around like she’s driving. “Look at you, a future champion in the making!”

You snap some photos of the adorable scene until it’s time for Lando to go off with his performance coach. After one last kiss for both of you, he disappears into the controlled pre-race chaos.

An assistant escorts you to the McLaren hospitality suite overlooking the pit lane. The view of the gleaming harbor and yachts reminds you this race is unlike anywhere else.

As start time nears, you cuddle a restless Georgia close, pointing out Lando’s car lined up on the grid. “See? There’s Daddy! He’s about to go racing.” Her little brow furrows, not quite understanding.

When the lights go out, Georgia startles at the loud roar of engines. Rubbing her back soothingly, you keep your eyes glued to the screen as the cars hurtle towards the tight first corner bottleneck.

“Come on Lando,” you murmur under your breath. He emerges from the chaos in 4th position. Off to a promising start.

Over the next 90 minutes, you fluctuate between pure elation and anxiety as the race unfolds. A collision forces Lando to pit unexpectedly. Just as your heart rate settles, another car spins right in front of him, spraying debris across the track.

But Lando holds his nerve, keeping the car under control to cross the line in P3. You leap up, cheering loudly with Georgia.

Soon Lando emerges, hair damp from the obligatory champagne shower.

His race suit is unzipped to the waist as he sweeps you both into an exuberant hug. “You did so good,” you murmur into his neck. Pulling back, Lando caresses Georgia’s head where it rests heavily on your shoulder.

“Little one tuckered herself out cheering for Daddy, hmm?” He takes her gently as she nuzzles into his chest with a yawn.

“Let’s get my best girls home.” With Georgia cradled in one arm and the other around your waist, Lando leads you out of the paddock like a proud family man. Your heart feels fit to burst.

That night after Georgia is tucked into bed, you curl up together on the couch. The TV plays highlights of the race you lived firsthand.

Lando absently strokes your hair. “You know, the lads invited me out to celebrate tonight.”

You lift your head. “Oh really? You should go have fun!”

But Lando just smiles, pulling you closer. “And miss this? Not a chance.” He kisses you tenderly. “Partying in Monaco holds nothing on being with my two favorite people.”

You kiss him again, touched. However far Lando’s career takes him, you know his heart will remain right here with you and Georgia.

***

Summer finally arrives, bringing a short respite between races for Lando. Eager to make the most of it, you suggest visiting your hometown to introduce him and Georgia to your parents.

“They’d love to finally meet you both,” you say over breakfast one morning.

Lando smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. “That sounds brilliant, love. I can’t wait to see where you grew up.”

You grin excitedly. “It’s nothing glamorous like Monaco. But I have so many good memories there.”

With plans made, you set off early one sunny Saturday morning, boarding a flight with Georgia securely buckled into her carrier. She babbles happily for most of the flight, enchanted by the clouds and miniature landscape passing below. Lando keeps one hand firmly clasped in yours the entire time.

Late afternoon, you finally pull up outside the cozy house you grew up in. Taking a deep breath, you unbuckle a sleepy Georgia from her seat.

“We’re here, Gigi! Ready to meet Grandma and Grandpa?”

She rubs her eyes with a tiny fist, still drowsy. Lando comes around to lift her into his arms.

“Someone’s a bit tired from all the traveling, huh? Maybe a quick nap first?” He kisses Georgia’s fuzzy head as she snuggles into his shoulder.

You nod, smoothing down her rumpled sundress. Taking Lando’s free hand, you head up the front walk.

Before you can even knock, the front door swings open. Your mum stands beaming at the threshold.

“Y/N! Oh, let me see her!” She sweeps you into a tight hug before immediately cooing over a now awake Georgia. “What an absolute darling!”

You grin. “Mom, meet your granddaughter, Georgia.” Saying it out loud sends a little thrill through you.

Your mother gently strokes Georgia’s dark curls. “Look at all this beautiful hair! Those eyes are all her daddy though.” She smiles warmly at Lando.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lando says politely, shaking her extended hand.

“Oh please, call me Y/M/N! Now come in, come in!” She ushers you both inside the familiar cozy house.

Your dad appears from his office to exchange hearty handshakes and hugs. Lando looks slightly overwhelmed by the enthusiastic welcome.

Sensing this, you squeeze his arm reassuringly. “Why don’t I put Georgia down for her nap? You guys chat.”

Lando shoots you a grateful smile. You disappear down the hall to your childhood bedroom, now converted to a cozy nursery space. Georgia is out like a light before you’ve even finished tucking her in.

Returning to the living room, you pause in the doorway, heart swelling at the scene. Lando sits between your parents on the sofa as they animatedly show him your baby photos. His eyes shine taking it all in. This is the sense of family he’s long craved.

Eventually Georgia wakes, cranky and clingy. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent as you rub her back.

“I know, lots of new things happening today. But you’re being so brave.” Dropping a kiss to her curls, you return to the living room.

Your mother immediately reaches for Georgia, who goes willingly into her arms. “Come sit with Grandma, sweetheart.”

Settling on the couch between your parents again, Lando slips an arm around your shoulders. Georgia babbles happily from your mother’s lap.

The rest of the day passes comfortably as your parents dote on their new granddaughter. Watching your mom help Georgia toddle around the yard, your dad pushing her on the tree swing, Lando’s arm stays wrapped securely around you.

That night after Georgia is down, you find Lando out on the back porch gazing up at the stars. You join him on the steps, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“You okay?”

Lando looks down at you with a soft smile. “More than. Today was really special.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing how your parents just immediately welcomed us into the family … it means everything. I never expected to find this.” His voice turns thick with emotion.

You lift your head to meet his sincere gaze, heart brimming over. No words needed, you convey it all in a tender kiss.

When you eventually pull apart, foreheads touching, Lando exhales shakily. “Being here with you and Gigi, it just feels so right. Like we were always meant to be a family.”

Joyful tears prick your eyes hearing him voice the same feeling living inside you. You cradle his face gently.

“We were, Lando. From that very first day in the hospital, I knew fate brought us together for a reason.”

Lando’s responding smile could outshine the moon and stars overhead. He kisses you again, soft and unhurried, arms encircling you on that familiar back porch.

***

Two years to the day after that fateful first meeting, you’re finishing rounds in the maternity ward when your supervisor requests you in her office. Brow furrowed, you make your way down the hall and knock lightly.

“Come in!”

You step inside to find her beaming behind her desk. “Y/N! Please, have a seat.”

Perplexed, you settle into the plush chair across from her. “Is everything okay?”

“Better than okay, I’d say.” She grins and slides an official document across the desk towards you. “Take a look at this.”

You scan the letter, eyes widening. It’s a notice of a 250,000 euro donation to the hospital’s maternity ward and nursery … made in your name.

“What? This must be a mistake, I didn’t ...” You trail off, completely baffled.

Your supervisor laughs. “Oh it’s quite real, I assure you. In fact, the donor himself insisted on being here today to celebrate.”

Before you can respond, a knock sounds. You turn to see Lando stroll in, right on cue, with a grinning Georgia perched on his hip.

“Lando!” You gasp. “Did you … is this from you?”

He smiles almost shyly, setting Georgia down so she can toddle over to you. “Wanted to do something meaningful to mark the anniversary of when we first met.”

You stand frozen in shock as Georgia crashes into your legs. Scooping her up, you turn back to Lando with tears in your eyes.

“This is too much, I … I don’t know what to say.” You glance between him and your equally emotional supervisor.

Lando moves closer, taking your hands in his. “Say you’ll come with me for a proper celebration? Just the three of us?” He brushes his thumbs over your knuckles, eyes twinkling.

Unable to form words, you simply nod. Lando’s face lights up with that smile that still makes your heart skip.

After signing some paperwork and hugging your supervisor profusely, you allow Lando to lead you out to the car, Georgia babbling happily between you. But instead of heading home, he drives to the glittering harbor front.

There, you gasp to see a magnificent yacht floating ready at the dock. A crew in crisp white uniforms wait nearby.

Lando grins at your stunned reaction. “Told you we’re celebrating in style today!”

The staff smiles warmly as you board, cooing over Georgia toddling around excitedly. She especially loves watching the foam trail behind the yacht as it pulls away from shore.

You stand wrapped in Lando’s arms, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I still can’t believe you did all this,” you murmur.

Lando presses a kiss to your temple. “You deserve it all and more, my love.”

You pass a blissful afternoon on the water, enjoying a gourmet lunch and each other’s company. Lando is attentive as ever, making sure you want for nothing.

As the sun dips low, a crew member approaches. “So sorry to interrupt, but we’ll be arriving shortly. Please follow me downstairs to prepare.”

You glance questioningly at Lando, but he just smiles and urges you to follow with Georgia. Down in your luxurious cabin, an elegant evening gown awaits on the bed alongside a tiny version for Georgia.

Your heart flutters wildly now. Lando is clearly planning something major. You help Georgia into her dress, your hands shaking slightly with anticipation.

A knock at the door announces the crew member has returned. “We’ve arrived back at port, whenever you’re ready.”

Back up top, Lando stands waiting in a sharp suit, holding a bouquet of roses. He looks devastatingly handsome.

Taking your hand, he leads you down the gangplank onto the dock where a car waits to whisk you away into the hills overlooking the sea. The sunset bathes everything in golden light.

When the car stops at a secluded lookout point, Lando helps you out then retrieves a sleepy Georgia. Hand in hand, you approach the cliff edge.

Down below, a massive light display flashes to life along the shoreline. You gasp as the glowing words become clear:

Y/N, will you marry me?

You clap a hand over your mouth, spinning to Lando with tears pooling in your eyes. He’s down on one knee, Georgia sitting next to him playing with flower petals.

“Two years ago, you came into our lives and changed everything,” Lando begins emotionally. “Your compassion and selflessness as a doctor saved my fragile new family.”

He takes a shaky breath. “But you gave me so much more than that. Your kindness, your beauty inside and out, your incredible love for me and Georgia … you’re my dream come true.”

Tears spill freely down your cheeks as Lando pulls out a glittering diamond ring. “So Y/N Y/L/N, nothing would make me happier than for you to officially become my family. Will you marry me?”

A joyful sob escapes you as you sink down, throwing your arms around him. “Yes, Lando, a million times yes!”

His relieved laughter vibrates against you. When you pull back, Lando takes your hand gently to slide the exquisite ring onto your finger. A perfect fit.

Georgia seems to sense the significance of the moment and toddles over to wrap her little arms around your legs. You lift her into a fierce hug between you.

“I love you both so very much,” you whisper emotionally. Lando’s responding smile outshines the luminous lights along the shore.

Cradling your faces in his hands, he seals his proposal with the sweetest kiss as the sunset fades to twilight.

You linger wrapped in Lando’s arms, Georgia nestled between you, as the first stars emerge overhead. Right here, surrounded by your little family, you’ve never felt happier or more at peace.

It’s extraordinary what two short years can bring — unexpected joy, profound purpose, and a love greater than you dared dream.

The brightest days are still ahead. But tonight, in this perfect moment, you know you’ve already found everything you’ll ever need.

***

The day of your wedding to Lando dawns bright and sunny — perfect weather for an outdoor ceremony overlooking the glittering Mediterranean sea.

Inside the bridal suite, your mother puts the final pins in your elegant updo while your bridesmaids fuss over the train of your lace gown.

A knock at the door announces your father’s arrival. When you turn to face him in your wedding finery, his eyes well up.

“Oh sweetheart … you look absolutely beautiful.”

You immediately tear up too, embracing him tightly. “Don’t make me ruin my makeup before I’ve even walked down the aisle!”

He laughs wetly, dabbing at his eyes with a handkerchief. “Couldn’t help it! My girl is all grown up.”

Looking in the mirror, you hardly recognize yourself in the exquisite dress and pinned-back curls. But the overwhelmed bride staring back has the same little girl dreams you harbored all those years ago. Dreams that are finally coming true today.

Another quick knock precedes Georgia toddling in, chubby legs pumping. Your flower girl is absolutely angelic in her silky dress.

“Mama, pwetty!” She declares, rushing over for cuddles. You scoop her up, breathing in that sweet baby scent you adore.

“You look so beautiful, my love.” Blinking back fresh tears, you smooth down her unruly curls. “Ready to walk down the aisle with flowers?”

Georgia just grins and reaches for your necklace. You tickle her belly, making her dissolve into adorable giggles. Your heart swells with love for your daughter.

Too soon, the wedding coordinator is poking her head in. “Sorry to interrupt, but it’s just about time!”

Butterflies erupt as everyone hustles to line up. Your father tucks your arm through his, beaming with pride. Just outside the doors, Georgia toddles down the petal-strewn aisle ahead of you both.

Then the soaring orchestral processional begins, and you step out into the golden afternoon sunlight. Gasps and murmurs rise at the sight of your dramatic gown trailing behind.

But your eyes lock instantly on Lando under the flower-woven arch, looking devastatingly handsome in his slate grey suit. His face lights up, and you know that your own mirrors the same wonder and joy.

The ceremony passes in a blur of emotions. Before you know it, the officiant instructs you and Lando to face each other and take hands. Time for the vows.

You go first, hands shaking as you pull out your prepared words. But speaking from the heart comes easily.

“Lando, when we first met under the most unexpected circumstances, I had no idea of the amazing journey we’d go on together. My job was to ensure your new daughter received the care she deserved.”

Your voice wavers slightly. “But so quickly, you both became so much more. Being welcomed into your family was the greatest gift. Watching Georgia grow, guiding her first steps and words ...”

You have to pause, blinking back more tears. Lando squeezes your hands encouragingly.

Composing yourself, you continue thickly, “I vow to always provide that same nurturing love and support. I promise to be your safe place to call home after long days apart. And I pledge to show our daughter daily what it means to be a strong, compassionate woman.”

Taking a shaky breath, you finish softly, “You two are my entire world. Loving you is life’s greatest joy.”

Lando’s eyes glisten as he brushes away the single tear trailing down your cheek. His thumbs linger, cradling your face tenderly.

Clearing his throat, he begins his own vows, voice wavering with emotion. “Y/N, you appeared in my life like an angel that frightening day at the hospital. I was so lost, overwhelmed by the massive responsibility of suddenly having Georgia.”

He glances down at your joined hands. “But your compassion and wisdom guided me through those uncertain early days. You made us feel safe.”

Looking up, his eyes pierce yours intensely. “What started as our doctor-patient relationship grew into the most important friendship I’ve ever known. And then, miraculously, into true, deep love. Thank you for loving Georgia as your own and showing me what true partnership means.”

Lando’s voice cracks. He pauses to take a shaky breath. “So I vow to spend every day reciprocating that love and support. I promise to shield you from the chaos of my world and provide a peaceful home for our family.”

Then he turns, taking a folded paper from the best man. “I asked Georgia if she wanted to say anything to her mama today.”

He opens it to reveal a drawing of three stick figures, one much smaller than the others. Scribbled hearts surround you all.

Lando’s voice thickens. “She said to tell you she loves you ‘this much’ and that you’re the best mama ever.”

A sob escapes you as Lando refolds the cherished drawing and hands it over. You press it to your heart, blinking back a fresh wave of tears.

Finally, you slip the wedding bands onto each other’s fingers with whispered words of eternal love and commitment.

When the officiant pronounces you husband and wife, Lando sweeps you into his arms for the kind of kiss that steals your breath and stops time.

You are finally, officially, wholeheartedly one.

The reception flies by in more happy tears, moving speeches, delicious food, and dancing under the stars. Watching Lando twirl Georgia around the floor tugs at your heart.

Later, as you slow dance wrapped in your new husband’s arms, Lando kisses your hair and whispers, “Ready for this new adventure together, Dr. Y/L/N-Norris?”

You beam up at him. “Absolutely. Lead the way, Mr. Norris.”

No matter where life takes you next on this journey, your family will thrive and grow stronger. Lando’s love lifts you up in ways you never imagined possible. And you vow to cherish and repay that gift until your last breath.

***

Returning home from a blissful honeymoon, you settle back into domestic life with Lando and Georgia. Mornings are spent over pancakes, playing hide and seek, and dancing around the living room. The pure joy of your little family never ceases to warm your heart.

One evening after putting Georgia to bed, you curl up with Lando on the couch and hesitantly broach something you’ve been thinking about.

“So I wanted to discuss something with you. It’s just an idea, and please don’t feel pressured at all.” You take a deep breath. “What would you think about me officially adopting Gigi?”

Lando’s eyes widen in surprise. You rush to continue explaining.

“I don’t want you to think I need a piece of paper to love her with my whole heart, because I already do. More than anything in this world.” Your voice cracks slightly.

Reaching out, you grasp his hands. “I just want to make sure that no matter what, I have a legal right to take care of her. But only if you’re completely comfortable with it!”

Lando is quiet for a long moment, studying your anxious face. Then a smile spreads across his face. “Love, I think it’s a beautiful idea.”

You sag in relief. “Truly? I wasn’t sure if it was too much ...”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss. “Gigi is the luckiest girl in the world to have you as her mum. I want the whole world to know that too.”

Tears prick your eyes as Lando caresses your cheek. “The day you promised to love Georgia as your own was the moment I knew you were different. I see how you are with her — the time, the care, the unconditional love ...” His voice cracks slightly.

“You gave us the greatest gift. I want you to have the same security that she’ll always be yours.”

A single tear traces down your cheek. Lando brushes it away gently before drawing you into his arms. You cling to him, heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

When you finally pull back, Lando is dabbing at his own eyes. “So,” he says with a watery chuckle, “How do we make this official?”

You explain the process — paperwork, a hearing, lawyer fees. He waves it all off.

“Whatever it takes. I’ll call our attorney first thing tomorrow.” Lando squeezes you tight. “Soon you’ll legally be Gigi’s mum too!”

You grin and kiss him soundly. With Lando fully on board, excitement takes root.

Over the next weeks, you go through the steps — filing petitions, scheduling court dates, and explaining the process in age-appropriate ways to an occasionally grumpy Georgia when she can’t go play outside instead.

Finally, the big day arrives. You dress Georgia in her favorite pink checkered dress and do her hair in perfect pigtails.

“My beautiful girl,” you murmur, smoothing down a flyaway curl. Her answering smile melts your heart.

At the courthouse, you all meet the social worker assigned to your case. She questions you and Lando gently about your relationship, home life, and approach to parenting. You cling tight to Lando’s hand the entire time.

Finally, it’s time for the hearing before a grandfatherly judge. He smiles warmly, peering over his glasses at you all.

“Well, I must say, this is one of the more straightforward cases to come before me. I can see clear as day how much love exists in this family.”

Relief floods you. The judge continues, “Therefore, I am more than pleased to grant the petition to finalize the adoption of Georgia Senna Norris by her mother, Y/N Y/L/N-Norris.” He bangs his gavel with an air of finality.

Joyful tears pour down your face. Lando whoops and sweeps you into a spinning hug. Even Georgia seems to realize something momentous just occurred, clapping her little hands.

In a daze, you sign the final paperwork making it official before emerging from the courthouse into the warm sunlight, your family now fully complete.

That evening, after Georgia is asleep, you curl up with Lando in bed, reliving the special day. He kisses your hair and murmurs, “I’m so proud of you, Mama.”

You grin against his chest. “I never thought I could feel so much love. She’s changed my life in every way.”

Lando tilts your chin up, eyes glowing. “That’s exactly how I feel about you. My girls who make life beautiful.”

***

One sunny afternoon, you’re in the kitchen prepping a snack for four-year-old Georgia when she comes bounding in from preschool.

“Mummy, guess what? My friend Amy at school is gonna be a big sister!” She hops up on her stool, eyes bright with excitement.

“Oh really? That’s fun!” You slice an apple into bunny shapes.

Georgia nods vigorously. “Yeah! Her mum has a baby in her tummy. Can I have a brother or sister in your tummy too?”

You freeze, knife hovering over the apple. Slowly setting it down, you turn to face her. “You want a little sibling?”

“Yes yes yes!” She bounces in her seat. “I asked Daddy already and he said I should ask you too.”

Your mind spins. A baby … it’s something you and Lando have only vaguely discussed as a someday possibility. But with Georgia asking so eagerly, the concept suddenly feels very real.

Just then, Lando walks in from his office. Georgia immediately appeals to him. “Daddy, tell Mummy we should have a baby! I wanna be a big sister.”

Lando meets your startled gaze, scrubbing a hand through his curls. “Well, uh, what do you think, love? Could be kinda nice to add to our crew.”

You glance between their hopeful faces, heart swelling. “I think … that could be really special for our family.”

Georgia cheers while Lando grins, coming over to wrap you in a hug. “A mini you running around? Sign me up.” His smile falters slightly. “Only if you want to though, truly.”

You squeeze him back. “I really do. We’ve come so far since the days of newborn Georgia. I’d love to go through it all again with you.”

The joy lighting up Lando’s face erases any lingering doubts.

That night after Georgia is asleep, you curl up together to discuss logistics. “I’ll need to give notice at the hospital once I’m pregnant so they can find someone to cover my maternity leave.”

Lando waves dismissively. “Don’t worry about any of that. Focus on growing our little muffin and I’ll handle the rest.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Our little muffin?”

“Or crumpet. Jellybean. Peanut.” Lando grins. “Take your pick, I’ve got a million terrible nicknames ready to go.”

Laughing, you swat his chest playfully. Sobering, you add, “It won’t be easy juggling a newborn and busy four year-old. But I can’t wait to see Georgia as a big sister.”

Lando smiles tenderly, threading his fingers through yours. “You’re already the most incredible mum. Our kids are so lucky.”

Your throat tightens at the absolute faith in his voice. No matter the challenges ahead, you’ll get through them together.

When you share the news with Georgia, she screeches loud enough to wake the neighbors. Her enthusiasm never wanes over the following months.

Finally, the big day arrives. After a long but relatively smooth delivery, your son enters the world screaming indignantly. The sound is music to your ears.

Lando cuts the cord with shaking hands before your little boy is placed in your arms. Love surges fiercely and instantly.

“Hi Maddox,” you whisper through joyful tears. “We’ve been waiting for you.”

Lando presses a kiss to both your heads before going to bring Georgia in. She gasps softly, climbing up to peer at her new brother with wide eyes.

“He’s so little!” Reaching out a gentle finger, she strokes Maddox’s downy cheek. Your heart clenches watching your babies meet.

Georgia cuddles close as you adjust her arm to help cradle Maddox. “I’m your big sister Gigi! I’m gonna help take care of you.” She drops a sloppy kiss on his forehead.

Blinking back a fresh wave of tears, you meet Lando’s equally wet gaze. The road that first led you to Lando has become so much more than you ever imagined. But you wouldn’t change a single unexpected twist or turn.

***

You link arms with Lando as you make your way through the familiar Silverstone paddock. The distinctive smell of race fuel hangs in the air, mingling with the buzz of excitement rippling through the crowd.

Georgia skips ahead, her brunette curls bouncing with each step, while Maddox clings to Lando’s free hand, his eyes wide with wonder. Alexa, your two-year-old, nestles securely in your arms, her tiny fingers clutching the McLaren teddy bear she insisted on bringing today. A small smile tugs at your lips as you glance down at her cherubic face, so much like Lando’s. Your heart swells with love for your beautiful family.

“Mummy, look!” Georgia calls out, pointing towards the McLaren garage suite. “Can we go in and see the car later?”

“We’ll see, darling,” you reply with a wink, knowing full well that Lando will ensure a special tour for the kids.

Lando squeezes your hand, his warm eyes twinkling with adoration. “Anything for my favorite girls … and Maddox,” he teases, ruffling Maddox’s hair playfully.

Maddox giggles, his freckled cheeks dimpling. “I’m your favorite boy though, right?”

“Of course,” Lando assures him with a conspiratorial wink.

As you continue down the bustling pathway, a Sky Sports reporter spots your family and rushes over, microphone in hand.

“Lando! Dr. Y/L/N-Norris! Do you have a moment for a quick interview?” He asks, his cameraman already rolling.

Lando nods, ever the professional. “Sure, mate. Go ahead.”

The reporter flashes a bright smile at the camera. “We’re here at the Silverstone Circuit with McLaren driver, Lando Norris, his wife, Dr. Y/N Y/L/N-Norris, and their children, Georgia, Maddox, and Alexa. It’s the weekend of the British Grand Prix, and the Norris family has been a fixture in the paddock for years.”

He turns to Georgia and Maddox, crouching down to their level. “So, you two must love coming to the races with your dad. What’s your favorite part?”

Georgia’s eyes light up as she launches into an enthusiastic explanation about the cars and the pit stops, her hands gesturing animatedly. Maddox, the quieter one, simply mumbles “the colors” with a shy grin.

The reporter chuckles, clearly charmed by the children’s responses. Straightening up, he addresses you and Lando. “And how about you two? Managing a hectic F1 schedule with three young kids can’t be easy. What’s the secret?”

Before either of you can respond, Georgia pipes up, “But it’s not three kids, it’s five!”

You tense, shooting Lando a panicked glance. This wasn’t how you’d planned to share the news of your pregnancy.

“Five kids?” The reporter’s brows furrow in confusion.

Georgia nods matter-of-factly. “Yep, there are two more babies in Mummy’s belly!”

A hush falls over the small crowd that has gathered nearby, and you can feel dozens of eyes trained on your still-flat stomach. Heat rushes to your cheeks as you instinctively place a protective hand over your abdomen.

The reporter blinks, clearly thrown off-script. “Well, I … congratulations! That’s certainly going to be a handful.”

You force a laugh, leaning into Lando’s solid frame. “Yes, well, Lando’s always said he wants a football team.”

Your husband grins, that cheeky grin you fell in love with, and wraps an arm around your waist. “What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.”

The crowd titters with amusement, and you can feel the tension dissipating.

“I can only imagine,” the reporter replies with a smile. “Well, thank you all for chatting with us today, and congratulations again on your growing family!”

As the reporter and his crew move on, you turn to Lando, your eyes shining with unshed tears — a heady mix of residual mortification and overwhelming love.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, stroking his stubbled jaw. “I know we wanted to share the news on our own terms.”

Lando silences you with a tender kiss, his lips warm and achingly familiar against yours. When he pulls back, his gaze is soft, adoring.

“Are you kidding? There’s no better way to announce it than through Gigi,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I’m just happy the whole world knows that I have super sperm.”

You laugh despite yourself, shoving his shoulder playfully. “You’re impossible.”

“But you love me,” he counters, that infuriatingly irresistible grin stretching across his face.

“God help me, I do,” you sigh, melting into his embrace.

Georgia bounds over then, Maddox and Alexa in tow, her expression a mixture of exhilaration and uncertainty.

“Was I not supposed to tell, Mummy? Did I do something wrong?” She asks, her eyes wide and questioning.

You quickly kneel down, gathering all three children into your arms and peppering their faces with kisses.

“No, my darling, you didn’t do anything wrong. You just … surprised us, that’s all.” You share a look with Lando over their heads, a look that conveys a thousand words — your hopes, your dreams, your boundless love for this incredible little family you’ve created together.

Lando reaches down, ruffling Georgia’s curls with one hand while gently squeezing your shoulder with the other. A silent promise, a vow to always be by your side as you navigate the beautiful chaos of your life together.

Rising to your feet, you adjust Alexa on your hip and take Georgia’s small hand in your own. Maddox slips his hand into Lando’s, and you set off once more, the television crew long forgotten.

This is your life — a whirlwind of races and airports, photoshoots and interviews. But it’s also quiet nights cuddled on the sofa, re-watching Disney movies for the millionth time. It’s family hugs and sloppy baby kisses, skinned knees and endless giggles. It’s laundry piled to the ceiling and sleepless nights spent pacing the nursery.

It’s messy and magical, exhausting and exhilarating. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[luveline]

hii jade are u going to write something about hotchner!reader and spencer any soon?

—You panic when Spencer’s late for a date. He makes it up to you as best as he can. fem, 2.6k

cw implied past child abuse

You weren’t young when you were adopted, so you were instilled very quickly with the need to be grateful. How lucky you were to be given a second chance at a family. How you owed it to your new family to be the perfect daughter and sister to a father who didn’t like you and two brothers your senior. 

Family for you is complicated. It always has been. You didn’t get the unconditional love you’d hoped for in all of them, but you have one older brother who loves you as though you and him are two branches of the same tree, and maybe that’s enough for anyone. 

“Yes!” Aaron cheers, jumping up from the bench. 

You spin around with a grin that’s half shy, half ecstatic. “I did it!” 

Jack runs up to your legs. “You got a strike!” 

You pretend to give him a karate chop. “Boosh! Double strike.” You grin as Aaron sizes up the pins down the long ally. “Think your dad can get one before we run out of turns?” 

“No!” Jack laughs. 

You laugh at his easy answer. His father, determined now in the face of your disbelief, picks up a number twelve ball and stands at the arrows to take his last turn. You brace your hands on Jack’s shoulders and wait for the line to be put down again. 

You’re pretty sure he’s throwing his turns to let Jack win. You’d not done the same until you realised the yawning gap in the scores, and maybe you’d feel embarrassed for not noticing if Aaron ever made you feel bad for anything, but he doesn’t. 

Your phone rings as he pulls back his arm. You ignore it. “Good luck, dad!” Jack says under your hands. 

It’s that good luck that gives Aaron his strike. You cheer with Jack as the ball glides straight into the first pin and veers on a spin toward the third, creating a wave of noise and action as the pins go flying back toward the baseboard. 

Aaron turns around with a huge smile. “Jack!” 

“You did it!” Jack cheers back. “Not first, but you did!” 

You grab your phone from your pocket. “Couldn’t let me have it, could you?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Aaron picks Jack up from the floor to hold against his chest, pointing at the screen with love. “Look at that, buddy, you won! Can you see that? You got the most points!” Aaron kisses his cheek, high on happiness. “Wow!” 

You have two missed calls from Spencer. To Aaron’s begrudgement, you and Spencer are actually going steady. The first attraction didn’t fizzle, the dates turned to dating turned to exclusivity; Spencer Reid is your boyfriend, and he’s supposed to be taking you out to dinner in ten minutes. 

“Everything okay?” Aaron asks, creeping closer to you, Jack still in his arms. 

“It’s fine, he’s just running late.” You notice his small frown. “His mom’s doctor wanted to talk to him, that’s all.” 

“How late is he thinking?” 

The plan was you’d go bowling with your family and then meet Spencer outside to eat at the Chinese restaurant just across the parking lot, but it’s not seeming so sure now. 

“He said half an hour. I’m pretty hungry,” you say, “he’s gotta speak to a psychiatrist about something. I can’t eat though, right? That’s rude.” 

“That’s not rude, honey. You can’t help being hungry as much as he can’t help being late.” As you’d noticed his, he notices your small frown. “You can’t go hungry,” he says with a shrug, “so you’re gonna have to come and eat something, but Spencer can join us when he’s done.” 

“Right, because you’ll love that.” 

“I’ve been on more dates with him than you have.” 

You take Jack as he opens his arms toward you. “I forget. I always think of you as his boss, and not his teammate.” 

Aaron grabs Jack’s backpack off of the bench, and your empty cups off of the table to throw away. “I am his boss. Okay, Jack, what do you want for dinner? What sounds good?” 

You, Aaron and Jack leave the bowling alley and end up in the Italian restaurant opposite of your originally proposed restaurant. You carry Jack on your hip and text Spencer with your open hand, content to let Aaron guide you through what little foot traffic there is to your table. Aaron sits on one side of the booth with Jack, and you slide into the other side. 

Spencer’s texts are getting more and more convoluted. He says he’s sorry, and then he says he has to call someone else, and then he needs to talk to his mom. You nibble your fingernail. 

“You okay?” 

You nod slowly. “Yeah, uh… Yes, everything’s fine.” 

“Is Spencer okay?” 

“I think he might cancel.” 

Aaron flattens his menu. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay. I think his mom is having a bad day…” 

“What else are you worried about?” 

Jack saves you for a moment, “Dad, can I have juice?” 

“Yes, sweetheart, I’ll get you juice. Apple juice?” 

Jack presses his cheek to Aaron’s arm, earning himself a hug. 

“Are you tired?” Aaron whispers. 

“No.” 

“Okay. Hey, there’s a table over there with some colouring pages and crayons, do you see that? Do you want to do some colouring?” 

“Can I go get some?” Jack asks. 

“Yes. Don’t bump into anybody, okay?” 

The table isn’t far enough to worry, but Aaron splits his attention between Jack and you fairly evenly, just a tad more worry following his son. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Aaron asks. 

“You don’t think Spencer would lie, do you?” you ask. 

“Lie about his mother? I doubt it very much.” 

You trust Aaron, and you trust Spencer too, but Aaron has earned that trust over years and years where Spencer has been gifted it. He hasn’t done anything to break it, but he hasn’t proved he should have it yet either. And really, truly, it isn’t actually about what you believe of Spencer. 

You feel a bit nauseous, but your brother is the best person in the world, so you tell him why without preamble, “I’m worried that he’s going to get sick of me.” 

“Why would he do that?” Aaron asks. 

You scratch at the menu beneath your hand rather than meet his eyes. Because you’re awful. That’s what your father instilled in you, and it’s what you’ve come to learn. Eventually, the people who love you get tired of you. Everyone except Aaron, and isn't that proof of something? He’s the only man good enough to pretend you’re someone worth caring about. 

If he could hear your thoughts he’d probably cry. It’s why you’ve struggle to tell him. 

You rub your thumb into the side of your index finger, feeling the texture of your skin. “I think people just do.” 

Jack returns quickly, with paper and a huge fist full of crayons, though there are four colours altogether. “Well,” Aaron says, helping Jack back into his seat, crayons rolling released from a small fist every which way, “I don't. And Jack doesn’t, Haley doesn’t. I see no reason why Spencer would feel that way.” 

“What don’t I do?” Jack asks, frowning at his dad. 

“You don’t think Aunt Y/N’s bad at bowling, do you?” 

“You’re great at bowling!” Jack's eyes go wide. “I’m gonna make us a photo, to remember. We got strikes!” 

You let your face fall into your hand as Aaron strokes hair up the side of Jack’s head. It’s a soothing thing to see, you know the soft touch of his hand well, having been petted and patted through a hundred different bad moments. 

Spencer probably isn’t lying about why he’s late, but he could be. You wouldn’t blame him. 

“She’s very good at bowling,” Aaron says, hugging Jack to his side. “And so many other things, that’s why we love her. Should we make a list?” 

He used to love doing that, too. 

Your father wasn’t a nice or kind man. Aaron doesn’t know how it escalated, only knows what happened to him, and how he’d come to see you and you’d burst into tears the second he asked how you were. 

If Aaron knew how bad it was at the time he would’ve forced you to leave, but you never told the whole truth. He assumed it to be a mixture of everything —school was awful, dad was worse, and you were more isolated than most. 

Make me a list, he’d say. 

The first time you didn’t get it. You were a teenager sitting on his couch, his wife in the kitchen, a weight on your chest. What for? 

A list of the stuff that’s bothering you. 

Do you need a list? you’d asked. He had a knack for knowing more than you could say. 

I think we should make one. 

You realise now it was a strategy to calm you down. If you could quantify the things that were depressing you, you could begin to understand it, and hopefully dismantle some of the bigger problems. It didn’t always work, but it didn’t matter. It made you feel better just to have you and Aaron on the same couch with a notebook and a number two pencil. Don’t see my brother enough, he’d written with a sad face. 

Brother, you’d thought with a secret joy. He’s your brother. 

Jack and Aaron make a list they won’t show you. You order drinks and then dinner, waiting for a phone call or a text back you don’t receive. It’s disheartening, and when your pasta arrives, you can barely eat. 

“Honey,” Aaron says, “why don’t you go call him? You can see if he’s alright.” 

You poke at a shell with a tightly gripped fork. “What if he doesn’t want me to call him? It sounds serious.” 

“Maybe that’s why you should call him. I think he’d appreciate it.” He looks like he wants to reach for you, but ultimately, he doesn’t. “Take a minute for yourself, if nothing else. Everything’s okay, I promise.” 

“Sorry.” 

“For what?” Jack asks. 

You smile regretfully. “I’m just feeling confused today, babe. What about you? Are you confused about where your mouth is?” you tease lightly. 

Aaron gasps a laugh and reaches over to wipe Jack down with a napkin as you slip from the booth. You take your phone, worrying that Aaron’s eyes are on your back as you pass by the host booth and back out onto the street. The breeze kisses your clammy skin. 

Why do you assume that no one really likes you? It’s difficult to comprehend. Your thumb hovers over Spencer’s contact photo, debating, and debating. Should you call him? He might be preoccupied, upset even, and what if you make it worse? But if you don’t call him, you can’t reassure yourself that you’re not in trouble. 

He answers on the third trill. 

“Hello?” you ask. 

“Hey!” There’s a sound like something heavy has been put down. “Hey, I’m so sorry!” 

“Don’t be sorry!” you say immediately. “It’s okay. Are you okay?” 

Spencer’s voice is a little high and fast, but beside that, he has a nice tenor. When he’s calm and feeling up to it, alone at night with nothing else to do, he’ll read to you from one of his infinite books, his syllables catching and tripping over air as you rub your nose into his arm. 

“I’m fine! There was a mixup with some medication at the sanitarium and they realised my mom’s dose of one of her antipsychotics has been charted higher than she was really taking, so she’s been having a hard time, it’s a total mess but I think we have it figured out now. How was bowling?” 

“Spencer, are you sure it’s okay?” 

“It’s fine.” He laughs softly, not a hint of condescension or derision for you, but an emotion you can’t name. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to take so long.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I mean, it’s fine if it’s not okay. I know you can’t help yourself sometimes, but you don’t have to tell me it’s fine if it’s not fine.” 

“Uh–” You cough around it. “No, it really is. You can’t help it. Family is important, right?” 

“It’s so important. Listen, where are you right now?” 

“I’m just standing outside of the Pasta Factory by the bowling alley. I tried to have dinner ‘cos I’m starving, but… I think I lost my appetite.” 

“What? Are you okay?” 

“I’m having one of those days, I guess?”

“What kind of day?” 

His voice is bouncing strangely, as though he’s talking near you. You pause, turning on your heel to look down the few stairs into the parking lot asphalt. 

Spencer’s walking up them, a bouquet of roses in his hands. 

“Hi,” you say, the phone still pressed to your ear. 

Spencer puts his away. “Hi. 

His hug is full, all-encompassing and warm as he wraps his arms around you, the bouquet a cacophony of crinkling against your shoulder. He smells like aftershave, his Tom Ford one with the woody tinge that has you pressing your nose into the top of his shoulder to just breathe. Your phone digs into his spine. He doesn’t say anything about it. 

“Hey,” he says softly, giving you a similar swaying, back and forth. “I’m sorry I’m late, I had to call them, but it wasn’t fair on you.” 

“Spencer,” you say, holding him tightly. “You’re my boyfriend.” 

“Don’t sound so unsure.” 

“No, but. We can be flexible, right?” 

“Of course we can, but I’m still sorry.” He peels back to smile at you, his eyes gently squinted. “So what’s wrong? What’s making it one of those days?” 

You can’t explain it to him. He likely doesn’t need you to. 

You’re expecting him to pull away —you’re in a public place and affection isn’t his usual expertise— but he doubles down. New boyfriend or not, this hug feels like it’s from somebody who’s loved you for years and years. 

“What’s making it a bad day?” he asks quietly. 

“I don’t know…” You rub your nose self indulgently against his shoulder. 

“Are you sure you have no appetite? Maybe that’s what it is? Stuff tends to feel bigger or more upsetting when we’re hungry because low blood sugar prompts your body to release more hormones that affect your cortisol level, and cortisol plays a big part in how your mind interprets your emotions.” Spencer pulls away, his hand sliding up your shoulder to hold you in place. He grins. “So I think you should still let me take you to dinner. Especially if you didn’t eat much.” 

Why would Spencer lie to you? you think, relieved. He wouldn’t. And the idea that he’s going to get sick of you, that’s rooted in bad lessons from a poor situation. It’s not a reflection on you. 

“We will,” you decide, “I just have to get my stuff. I left my bag, and Jack’s writing me a list.” 

“What list?” 

“A list of stuff I’m good at.” 

He doesn’t waver. “Really? Can I add stuff too?” You turn your nose up in an unsubtle prompting, satisfied when Spencer gives you a quick, smiling kiss. “Sorry,” he says, though his apology is distracted by a fond undertone, “I missed you.” 

You receive a few more gentle kisses for all your worries, and you begin to feel better. Spencer presses the roses into your hand and encourages you into the restaurant with his hand spread behind your back. 

[lovelybucky1]

Ok! I don't know if you can write about a wolverine who is obsessed with an older student at mansion x, what's the surprise? That she has a daddy kink with him because he has daddy issues-.

Professor!logan x student!fem!reader w daddy kink pleaaaaseee (Obviously reader is of legal age but there is Age gap between she and logan, and of course, smut!)

Cliché (Logan Howlett x Reader)

Logan isn’t a teacher by any means. He doesn’t have a lot of patience and prefers just to do rather than show people how it’s done. Xavier didn’t really give him a choice to be a teacher or not. He led Logan into a classroom full of students one day and told him to have at it. Logan wasn’t pleased with Charles, but he managed to improvise well enough. He’s been teaching since then, and while it is more bearable than he thought it would be, he still isn’t a fan. That is, until you showed up in class.

You caught his eye immediately. He could justify it to himself more if you were playing the part of the slutty student wearing short skirts and dropping your pencil so that you could give him a flash of your tits when you bent down. But you weren’t doing any of that. You were just a normal student, taking notes, listening intently, and raising your hand when you knew the answer. You weren’t trying to tempt him into anything, and Logan was a creep for wishing that you were. 

He pushed these thoughts to the back of his mind and for the most part, he was successful. He was able to compartmentalize well enough to be an effective teacher and not sport a half-chub in the middle of every class. He thought he had finally gotten over his stupid crush that he was way too old to be having, but then you had asked him for extra help.

Like the beginning of every student-teacher porno, you came to his “office hours”, which really meant you knocked on his bedroom door late one night. You were having trouble understanding whatever dull topic Logan was teaching that week, which was unusual for you because you study frequently. You asked him to explain and he did, walking you through it to the best of his ability. Logan was suspicious because the topic wasn’t difficult to understand, and you’re a smart girl. 

After fifteen minutes of you nodding along to his explanation and occasionally biting your lip, Logan called you out. 

“You don’t really need help understanding this, do you?”

You looked up at him, wide-eyed like you were just caught with your hand in the cookie jar.

“Yes I do,” you respond hurriedly. “I told you, I was a little confused by all of the information.”

Logan shook his head. “We’ve gone over topics much more difficult than this and you had no problem. Why don’t you tell me why you’re really here?”

Logan couldn’t help but wonder if his inappropriate fantasies were coming true. It had all the cliches: office hours, a smart girl playing dumb, a half-assed excuse to be close to him. He can hear your heart beating quickly, and when he sniffs the air, he can smell a musky tang of arousal.

He turns to face you, and suddenly you’re unable to meet his eyes. You’re looking down at where you’re fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Nervous, embarrassed. Gently, he places his hand under your chin and tilts your head up. You timidly look at him, eyes searching his for any signs of anger.

“What’re you doin’ here, dollface?” he asks.

He’s hoping, praying, that you don’t say what he so badly wants you to say. 

“I just… wanted to see you,” you respond. You know it makes you sound crazy, but you can’t think of any other explanation that isn’t entirely inappropriate. He doesn’t say anything, but you feel compelled to word-vomit. “I wanted your attention and this was the only way I knew how to get it and I’m so sorry, I know this is so inappropriate. Please just forget about this and I’ll drop your class-”

Logan shushes you. “You wanted my attention?” he asks. You nod hesitantly. “What for?”

You shrug, but Logan doesn’t take that for an answer. “I’m attracted to you.” 

You wince as you rip off the band-aid, and you’re so scared to see your professor’s reaction. He should yell at you, call you all sorts of names for your disgusting fantasies, kick you out of the room and have you expelled. But he doesn’t.

“That right?” Logan asks with a smirk. “You’re all worried just ‘cause you have a little crush?” Maybe it’s mean to tease you, especially when you’re looking at him like you’re about to cry, but he can’t help it. “You know I’m too old for you.”

You shake your head. “You’re not too old for me.”

Logan hums. “Then you’re too young for me.”

“I’m an adult,” you pout. “I’m not too young.”

“Sweetheart,” he sighs. “I’m your teacher. I’m old enough to be your father.” Logan takes note of how your eyes sparkle at that. “You like me because I’m old enough to be your father.”

You look away shyly, and that gives Logan all the confirmation he needs. 

“Y’know, ever since I met you, I’ve been trying not to think about how much I want to bend you over one of those desks. It made me feel so fuckin’ guilty for thinking about you like that, but this whole time, you’ve been sittin’ in my class, thinking about me being your daddy.”

Your eyes widen at his words. When you devised this little plan and walked in here, you thought you would chicken out, much less have it lead anywhere. 

“I have been thinking about that,” you say.

“I’d be real sweet to ya, baby. Give you everything you’ve been wanting.”

The two of you are crossing so many lines, but neither of you seem to care anymore. He’s wanted you for weeks and as morally upstanding as he tries to be, he is still just a man.

“I want it,” you say, voice barely above a whisper.

Logan’s hands are on your hips, grabbing at your skin possessively as he smashes his lips against yours. He dominates the kiss, but you don’t mind the pinch of your lips between his teeth. It’s messy and wet and everything you’ve been dreaming of while you watch him in class. 

Your back hits the door and Logan keeps you pinned against the surface. You’re helpless to do anything but take what he gives you; his large body covering you entirely. His hands find their way under your ass and he tells you to jump. He holds you up with ease as you wrap your legs around his waist. He grinds against you, your little scrap of lace panties rubbing the bulge in his jeans. He’s thankful that you decided to wear a dress because the idea of fumbling with more than one pair of pants right now pisses him off. 

He manages to get his pants undone and pushed low enough to free his cock. Your panties get pulled to the side and his fingers slot themselves inside of you to work you open. Your face is buried in Logan’s neck, where you muffle all of your whines and moans. You’re certain that anyone out in the hall would be able to hear you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. If anything, Logan would be the one to get in trouble for sleeping with a student. You’d just be an innocent victim.

“Daddy,” you moan when he rubs that spot deep inside of you. 

“Shh, baby, Daddy’s got you,” he coos.

He continues to open you up on his fingers until he deems you loose enough to take him. When he pulls out his fingers, he wipes them on his thigh before grabbing his cock and positioning it at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, allowing you to adjust to the stretch.

You both groan simultaneously as he bottoms out. You’ve never felt so full in your life, and your pussy feels like heaven around his aching cock. You’ve both been craving this taboo relationship for so long and now that it’s finally real, it’s making your head spin.

“So fuckin’ tight,” Logan growls against your neck as he begins to rut into you.

His gruff voice, casual display of strength, and the feeling of him inside you work together to light your body on fire. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip as you attempt to stifle your moans. 

“Logan,” you gasp after a particularly hard thrust.

“Keep sayin’ my name like that and this won’t last much longer,” he tells you.

The thought that you doing something so simple as moaning his name could bring him to the edge boggles your mind. The Wolverine coming undone for some girl, a student, no less. You find yourself on a bit of a power trip, knowing what you’re doing to him. It’s only fair because he’s been torturing you for weeks without even knowing it.

You reach down between your bodies to rub at your clit. It’s sensitive from neglect, but as soon as you make contact with it, that coil in your belly starts to tighten. Hot waves of pleasure roll over your body as Logan drives his cock into you. Each bump of your g-spot causes a moan to escape from your mouth and he responds with groans of his own. 

“Logan, Logan,” you pant. “Daddy! I’m close, I’m gonna cum.”

Logan’s teeth find your neck. He bites at the skin under your ear and in the back of your mind, you wonder if he’ll leave a mark.

“Cum for me, princess. Gush all over my dick,” he mumbles against your skin.

You do exactly that. A few moments later, you’re clenching around his length as you rub tight circles over your clit. A moan rips from your throat as your orgasm hits you like a ton of bricks- or a ton of feathers, they weigh the same.

Logan staves off his orgasm long enough for you to ride out yours. Once you come down, he pulls out of you and jerks himself off to completion. Hot, thick ropes of cum paint your stomach and you watch in awe as the muscles in his arm move with the action.

You both stand there, your back against the door, as you catch your breath. You look up at him with slightly glazed eyes; your mind hazy with the remnants of your pleasure.

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

“Nothin’ to thank me for, dollface,” he says.

Logan bends down to scoop you into his arms. He walks you the few feet over to his bed and lays you down gently before grabbing some tissues to clean you off. You tell him you could’ve walked, but he shushes you and replies “Let me take care of you.”

You do, and it feels like the closest to heaven you’ve ever been. The man of your dreams just fucked you stupid and is now coddling you in his bed. What could be better than this?

Logan rids himself of the rest of his clothes and joins you on the bed. He slings an arm over your waist and pulls your back flush to his chest so he can spoon you. He tucks your shoulder under his chin and presses a kiss to your neck, close to the spot he sunk his teeth into earlier. 

“Does this mean I get extra credit, professor?” you ask, giggling.

“Don’t push your luck, kid. You still gotta do your homework.”

[theemporium]

[3.5k] after his iconic first race win in formula one, lando gets to celebrate with his three favourite people. or, the charlandax smut i accidentally promised after a lando win with a lestappen podium. (smut)

note: this is fucking filthy and i kinda feel like i need to go to a confession booth. okay bye, nobody perceive me after this. she’s also unedited so beware (I’m too lazy to reread and edit rn)

.

Lando Norris felt like he was on top of the fucking world but maybe that was just how it felt from the top step of the podium.

It hadn’t really hit him yet, despite his ears ringing from his own screams and the cheers from the crowd and the fans and his own team. It didn’t feel real until the national anthem began playing through the speakers, until he heard his team singing along, until he realised this was his reality. 

He was a Grand Prix winner. 

Finally. 

Surreal was the only word to describe how he felt. After years of second-place and third-place podium finishes, of people telling him his time would come, of having so many close calls, he did it. He fucking did it. And he didn’t just skim a win, it was fully fucking his as he soared past the chequered flag.

And for once, Lando basked in the knowledge that all eyes were on him. It didn’t give him that prickling, itching feeling under his skin. It didn’t make him want to  hunch his shoulders up to his ears. It didn’t make the little voice in the back of his head send him spiralling over every little thing he could be doing wrong. 

He had just won the Miami Grand Prix and everyone was staring at him and he fucking loved it.

But it meant more than just a win to Lando, it meant so much more than a trophy to add to his collection back home. It was about the years spent achieving this dream. It was about the effort and the support he had from the team to reach this point. It was about sharing this moment and standing on the podium with two people who meant the fucking world to him with the third watching all three of them from down below. 

It meant the fucking world to Lando. 

It was a blur of happiness and excitement and adrenaline as he stood on that top step. It felt like he was in a movie when the trophy was handed to him, the number one staring back at him like it was reminding him he had done it. It felt like a fucking dream when the champagne celebration started, his hand barely wrapped around the neck of the bottle when Charles and Max drenched and drowning him in champagne.

It was completely fucking unbelievable this was finally his reality.

Time was a blur of big smiles, loud cheers and so many people congratulating him. It was overwhelming in the best way possible, it made something in his chest burst with pride as he felt his team slap him on the back as he walked through the garage. He felt like his life was complete when you threw your arms around him, tugging him close until your bodies felt like one.

“M’so cold,” he murmured as he wound his arms around you, holding you closer as he buries his face into your neck for some privacy, despite the countless cameras pointing at him.

“I’m so proud of you,” you whispered back, just loud enough for him to hear because he was the only one who mattered in that moment. “This is the first of many.”

He sniffled, feeling his throat close up a bit but he just squeezed you tighter when the words didn’t come out as smoothly as he wanted. 

However, you were pulled away from him seconds later as he was directed towards the camera. With media duties and team debriefs and many more commitments, he didn’t have time to stop and celebrate with the people he wanted. He had to perform for the cameras, for the fans, for the people watching before he could. 

And honestly, he couldn't complain. There were worse problems to have.

His brain was running a million miles an hour, so many thoughts and feelings and emotions to try and comprehend that he barely noticed the other person in his driver’s room until the door shut behind him and he felt a pair of lips on his. 

“I am so proud of you, mon champion,” Charles murmured against his lips, the kiss short-lived due to the huge smile on his face. He pulled back enough to look at Lando properly, his hands holding the Brit’s face. “So, so proud of you.”

Lando felt his cheeks burn. “M’glad you and Max were up there with me,” he admitted, that funny feeling in his chest returning before he glanced around the room noticing that Charles was the only one in his driver room. “Where are the others?” Pause. “How did you even sneak in here?”

“I have my ways,” Charles answered vaguely, his eyes glinting with mischief. “And I’m here to help you hurry up. They are waiting in the car.” 

Lando snorted. “And they sent you to hurry me up?” 

“I may have come third, mon amour, but I’m still fast.” 

Despite his words, it took a few more minutes of Charles pressing kisses all over his face and mumbling a load of French that Lando didn’t understand before he was finally able to grab his belongings and make it out of the McLaren motorhome. 

His whole body was buzzing with energy, far too hyped up to even care about the way his face burned when he climbed into the backseat of Charles’ race weekend car, unable to wipe the smile off his face. 

This. 

This was what he had been waiting for. 

This moment to be with the people who loved more than his heart knew he was capable of. A moment to be with the people who believed in him no matter what, even when the rest of the world doubted him. 

And if Lando was being so completely honest, he was so lost in the buzz of his win that he didn’t think anything about your hand resting on his upper thigh. He was still lost in the race a few hours ago, still lost in the feeling of crossing the line and hearing Will’s voice over the radio confirming he secured his first Formula One Grand Prix win. 

So lost in that moment that he barely had a chance to drop his backpack on the floor of Max’s huge hotel suite before the Dutchman was reaching for him. With the privacy of the hotel room door locked from the rest of the world, Max didn’t hold back as he raked his hand through Lando’s curls. His fingers twisted in his hair, tugging sharply as his teeth nipped the Brit’s bottom lip. 

Lando couldn’t help himself when he let out a whine.

“Fuck,” Max groaned, tugging on his hair again as he watched Lando’s eyes flutter shut. “Look at our race winner, hm? So pretty, schat.”

Lando’s lips parted but words were lost on him. Instead, his eyes darted where you saddled up against Max’s side, head resting on his shoulder as you looked at Lando with a massive grin. 

“I think you broke him,” you teased, a faux pout on your lips. “Guess that throws all our plans out the window.”

Lando blinked before quickly shaking his head. “I—no, wait, what plans?”

Max grinned. “Your reward, baby. Didn’t think we were gonna celebrate your big day, huh?”

“I—” Lando paused, feeling something deep in his stomach twist in desire. “I just…I don’t know. I thought we were gonna go out…or something.”

“We could,” Charles spoke up as he slipped in behind Lando, his hands on the younger boy’s waist. “If that’s what you want. We can go out and celebrate with everyone else.”

Lando swallowed. “Or?”

“Or,” you repeated, your eyes lingering on his kiss-swollen lips. “You let us treat you like a proper race winner.”

“And what does that treatment include?” Lando asked, because that was just who he was. That little brat in him that wanted to know his options, that wanted to know exactly how he was being rewarded, who wanted to know exactly what was getting done to him. The little brat in him that was mouthy and sassy and usually got put in his place—that wanted to be put in his place.

And Max knew that. He knew that if he reached down, Lando was probably half-hard already. He knew that no matter what he said, Land would be down for it. He could see the glint in the Brit’s eyes, that realisation of what he could have without realising it. 

“Anything you want,” Max murmured, his thumb lightly tracing along Lando’s bottom lip. “You’re the winner, Lando. Our winner.”

…

Anything you want. 

That was his limit—completely fucking endless. He had all the control in the palm of his hands to do whatever he pleased, whatever he desired, whatever he fucking wanted. 

But that wasn’t what Lando wanted. He didn’t want to be in charge. He didn’t want to be the person making the calls and decisions. That wasn’t his role in the bedroom and he never really wanted to be. He liked being the one who got to lay back, the one that people tried to tame and dominate only to realise he didn’t listen as easily as people wanted. 

He liked being the one that people worked to break. 

So, that was exactly what Max gave to him and Lando only slightly regretted his decision as he slumped back against the Dutchman, grinding his ass back against the older boy’s straining cock as he threw his head back against Max’s shoulder.

“Please, please, please,” Lando whined, trying to buck his hips forwards but Max kept his body in place, just where he wanted him. “S’too much.”

“I know, schatje,” Max mused, pressing a lingering kiss at the base of his neck just to hear Lando let out a small moan at the contact. “But look how pretty they look for you, all for you. You don’t want them to stop, do you?” 

But Lando couldn’t bring himself to respond. 

“None of that,” Max muttered, squeezing Lando’s sides to get the boy to listen. “Thought my winner was gonna be good for me, huh? Look at them, Lando. Look how good they are being for you. Look at how much they are enjoying this.”

The boy only managed to let out a whimper as he fluttered his eyes open, his chin tucking into his chest as he looked down at the sight Max was demanding of him. 

And, fuck, it made his knees buckle.

The two of you were absolute fucking messes. It felt like something out of a porno, one that would have Lando panting and whining and fantasising about because never once did he think it was realistic. And yet, here you and Charles were, looking like something out of his deepest desires. 

He couldn’t focus on one of you, it would have been a crime to not stare and ogle you both. The way you both looked utterly perfect on your knees in front of him, glossy eyes and flushed cheeks and looking so fucking blissed out as you both worshipped his cock—like you were fulfilling a purpose, like this was what the two of you were made for. 

And it was messy as fuck, something that maybe would have been gross to everyone else in the world, but Lando thought it was so fucking hot. The evidence of his previous orgasms splattered across you both, covering your lips and chins and naked chests. The way your lips wrapped around the head of his cock as Charles licked down the underside of his cock until he nosed Lando's balls. The way Charles had one hand wrapped around his leaking cock, pumping and stroking himself as you squeezed and played with your tits like it would give you some relief. 

But it wasn’t about your pleasure or Charles’ or Max’s. 

It was all about Lando. 

“Such good sluts on their knees for you,” Max muttered, lips brushing against his ear as his warm breath tickled against Lando’s skin. “Usually that’s you, schat. Getting on your knees for me, doing whatever I tell you.”

“Fuck,” he let out in a breathless whimper, turning his head to try and nuzzle his face into Max’s neck. 

“Do you like this, Lando? Like seeing them be such whores for your cock? So desperate and needy?” Max continued, his hands tightening on the younger boy’s waist as he looked down at you and Charles.

You let out a whine at his words, your thighs clenched together and your eyes fluttering shut as you traced your tongue along the slit of his cock. Your moans vibrated around his cock, leaving the boy a puddle underneath your touch as Charles placed wet, open-mouthed kisses along his balls. 

“Bet they would stay there all night if you wanted them to,” Max mused as his eyes caught teary green eyes staring up at him, desperation shining in the pretty colour of them. “Bet Charles would love to take your cock down his pretty throat, he always does it so well for me. Hm, amour? Think you could take our pretty winner’s cock like a good boy?”

The sound Charles let out was pitiful and straight out of a fucking porno.

“Max,” Lando breathed out, his hands reaching back to try and grab onto the Dutchman. “Please, I-I need…”

“What do you need?” Max questioned, squeezing his sides. “Need more than their mouths, baby? Or maybe you need more than that.”

Lando felt his whole face burn as he let out a shameless moan when one of Max’s hands began wandering, when his fingers brushed along his skin before squeezing the fat of his ass. 

“The champagne wasn’t enough, hm? Maybe we need to fill you up,” Max suggested, like it was something as casual as talking about dinner options. “Bet you’d feel so nice and tight around me, baby. Maybe let Charles fill your pretty throat instead.”

“Please,” Lando whined.

“Yeah, you want that?” He could feel Max’s smile against his skin. “Let our pretty girl bounce on your cock whilst we fill you up? She would look so pretty sitting on top of you.”

Lando nodded his head vigorously, his nails slightly digging into Max’s skin. “I need it, Max, need it so bad.”

Max’s teeth scraped along the side of his neck. “Beg for it.” 

So he did. 

He begged for it until his voice was hoarse and his legs were shaking and his babbles were practically incoherent. He begged until he felt Max’s lips on his skin, joined by Charles and yours moments later as you three kissed and worshipped every inch of his body. He begged until his face was burning red, his blush spreading down his neck and chest as you praised him—your race winner—until he couldn’t take it any more.

He begged for it as you held his face, prepping kisses all over his face whilst Max worked him open. 

He begged for it as Charles marked along his neck and chest to help him relax as Max slowly slid inside him, stretching him open until he was a whimpering mess.

He begged for it as you slowly sunk down on his cock, your cunt already soaking and slick with your own arousal as he buried himself inside you. 

He begged for it until his hands were gripping Charles’ thighs, nails digging into his skin as he urged his cock further down his throat until he felt fucking full.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned, rocking your hips back and forth as you let your hands skim along his skin. Your fingers traced along the planes of his abs, watching them softly clench under your touch before you traced along his sides. You kept your hands moving, feeling the need to touch every fucking inch of him as he preened and squirmed under your touch. “You look so perfect like this.” 

Lando let out a muffled moan around Charles’ cock.

“Letting us fill you up, make you feel so good,” you continued, the walls of your pussy clenching around him. “This is what our race winner deserves. So pretty and fast today, baby, it’s so hot.”

One of his hands let go of Charles, blindly reaching out towards you until you caught the hint to intertwine your fingers together. You raised it to your lips, pressing a soft kiss onto the back of his hand and something about the soft gesture whilst his body was being fucked into an inch of his life made the boy spiral. 

He couldn’t do anything but just take it, let the overwhelming pleasure wash over him until his whole body felt like it was on fire. His nerve endings felt like they had been turned up beyond the dial, like every touch was more thrilling than he could ever imagine. The words of praise was a muffled mess around him, three voices all mixed together as he felt hands all over his body. He felt safe, he felt full, he felt complete. 

It was a blur of too much pleasure and excitement and gratification when he finally came, white spots dotting his vision as he felt himself completely spill inside you whilst your cunt clenched around him, as Max’s cock hit the perfect spot deep inside him with every thrust. He was so lost in his own orgasm, in his own moans and whines and noises to fully realise the domino effect he started. 

To really appreciate the sight of you coming on his cock, bouncing up and down on his cock whilst your tits moved with each thrust. To really enjoy the sensation of Max coming deep inside him, squeezing him so hard that he was sure his skin would bruise the next day. To watch the way Charles stroked himself a few more times before spilling over his chest, just for you to lean down and lick up the mess until you leaned down to kiss him senseless. 

To be completely honest, he was waiting to wake up and realise this whole day was a dream. 

But he blinked. And blinked once more for good measure. And your smiling face was still there to reassure him this was real, that everything about today was real. 

“Hey,” he whispered, voice a little rough and hoarse. 

“Hey, baby,” you grinned back at him as you raised your hand to gently cup his face, your thumb wiping away a few stray tears that slipped out. “How are you feeling, Mr Race Winner?”

And despite the exhaustion settled deep in his bones, Lando beamed at you. “Feel like I’m the king of this fucking world.”

You giggled. “Then our job here is complete.” 

Lando huffed out a laugh, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to fight the urge to curl up and sleep for the next week straight. 

“Don’t tell me that’s you done for the night,” Max’s voice spoke from somewhere else in the room, somewhere away from the bed but Lando couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes just yet. “There’s a whole city wanting to celebrate with you tonight.”

“Ugh, being a race winner is so much work,” Lando whined playfully, reaching for you to pull you closer before you could pull away from him. “Let’s just stay here forever.”

“All a part of the title, mon amour,” Charles teased as he settled down beside the younger boy on the bed. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss to Lando’s forehead. “I heard the other drivers making bets on who could buy you the most shots.”

Lando let out a breath. “Fuck, they are gonna try to kill me.”

“We wouldn’t let that happen,” you assured him, but he could hear the smile in your voice. “I’m sure Max would join you.”

“Thanks, schat,” Max grumbled as he wandered back into the room, a wet washcloth in his hand. “We have a few hours before we are meant to meet everyone anyways. Have a nap, you can shower when you wake up.”

Lando blinked his eyes open, a cheeky smile on his face. “Alone?”

Max rolled his eyes. “It’s never enough for you.”

“I’m a high maintenance guy,” Lando replied. 

“We know,” you murmured with a snort, only to gasp when he pinched your side. “Hey!”

“You can’t yell at me, I’m a race winner,” he shot back at you, grinning wider when you rolled your eyes. 

“Yes, that is exactly how this works,” Charles snorted as he slumped down on the pillow beside Lando, reaching for the Brit to curl up beside him. “That and club blowjobs.”

“It was one time,” Max grumbled. “And it wasn’t even my idea!”

“I didn’t regret it for a second,” you smiled shamelessly at the Dutchman before raising your hand, trying to pull him down onto the bed with the three of you. “C’mon, we can clean up properly later. I wanna cuddle.” 

“So needy.”

“In the wise words of race winner Lando Norris, I’m a high maintenance guy.”

“Hell yeah, baby,” Lando murmured, his cheek pressed into the pillow with a sleepy smile on his face. “Someone stitch that onto a pillow.” 

“Please go to sleep before I gag you both.” 

“They would probably like that, mon amour.”

“You too, Charles.” 

“Always so bossy, Verstappen.”

.

[jamminvroomvroom]

4k celebration

congrats on 4k love - your writing is absolutely worth all of the hype and even more!!! i adore your work and so look forward to even more people discovering it.

i was hoping to request a lewis fic?? i’m such a slut for a good enemies to lovers situation, so maybe along the lines of reader is a fair bit younger than lewis, but there’s been all of this tension btwn them and it all boils over one night (smuttyyyyy) 🥴

we made up.

LH x fem!rival reader - 4k celebration

in which you can never just bite your tongue

eeeeek i love this request! thank u sm anon for ur sweet words, ur so lovely i hope i’ve done this justice for you! writing for lewis terrified me so this might not be my best work but we move! more lewis requests to come, let me know what you think <3

songs to set the mood: stargirl interlude by the weekend & lana del rey

warnings: 18+!! minors go away!! smut, swearing, degradation, praise, dom!lewis, some switch!reader, implied age gap, slightly inexperienced reader, enemies to lovers, blink n you’ll miss it size kink

2.6k words

you hide admiration with a scowl, curling into yourself, as far away as you can get from him. the couch seems to get smaller and smaller with every overly intelligent, carefully thought out word he says. each sentence seems to be coated in a thick layer of i don’t give a fuck. you don’t know how he’s so good a toeing the line.

after six years in f1, you still couldn’t work out why you didn’t like lewis hamilton.

maybe it was his cool confidence, the way he never lacked composure, while you were called an unhinged, delusional woman by every incel on twitter for so much as breathing. maybe it was his sky high stack of trophies, championships, podiums, wins. you weren’t even halfway close to touching his records. maybe it was the way he was diabolically, inhumanly gorgeous, a truly breathtaking creature. you paled in every single way compared to lewis, so how could you even begin to like him?

it was silly, really, pathetic even, feeling such childish disdain just because he was better than you. he was older, more refined, iconic in every single way that you weren’t. perhaps you’d get there one day, but you simply weren’t there yet.

you’re sat beside him in the press conference, sharing the couch with him, alex, lando, charles and max. it wasn’t the worst combination in the world, but anytime you had to sit in front of a gaggle of hawk-eyed journos and a million cameras with lewis, something unfortunate usually happened. never by design, but you just weren’t very good at saving face in front of the mercedes driver.

“do you think the podium is a possibility this weekend?” someone from autosport whose name you can’t remember asks.

“i’m hoping so, just need to keep the mercs behind us again, but i don’t think that will be that hard.” you respond, without even a sliver of a filter. the material of the sofa shifts as lewis tenses up beside you, inhaling sharply at your blatant disrespect. somewhere beside you, lando sniggers, and max is rolling his eyes.

it was no secret that you didn’t have the softest spot in the world for sir lewis.

“that’s assuming your car makes it to the end of the race.” lewis clears his throat, speaking with confident conviction. you turn you head to glare at him, painfully unable to take what you give. alex slaps his hand over his mouth.

“at least my car isn’t so bad that i’d rather go and learn the alphabet down at ferrari.” you scoff. you avoid the eyes of your comms officer, because if looks could kill, you’d be six feet under already.

“i think we’ll leave it there.” tom clarkson suggests, and you stand from the panel and storm away on trembling legs with a terrible ache throbbing between them.

there’s something about the pettiness, the reasonless back and fourth you two always seem to partake in that leaves you in need of a cold shower.

-

turns out, you have to apologise.

you spend the better part of an hour being bollocked by your press team, who, for some reason, don’t find it particularly amusing that you’d somehow managed to insult the lewis hamilton, ferrari, and mercedes in the span of two sentences.

so, there you were, begrudgingly trailing towards lewis’s hotel room. it’s on the top floor, because of course it is, it’s him. he oozes expensive exclusively, naturally above the rest. you twist your rings nervously, increasingly terrified of being in a confined space alone with the gorgeous brit. your knuckles rap gently against the wood of his door, intentionally weakly. you pray he won’t hear you and that you can just disappear back into the elevator and into your room, to pathetically let you hands wander between your clenched thighs.

but god laughs, and the door swings open. lewis seems startled by your presence, just for a moment though, leaning cooly against the doorframe. his lips pull into a faint smile. two things alarm you. first of all, he’s shirtless, bare from the waist up, a plethora of delicious tattoos on display for you to feast your eyes on. secondly, and somehow even worse, he’s panting, clearly just back from a work out in the gym. he glistens with sweat, and your mind goes blank, apologetic words die on your tongue.

“something to say, angel, or are you just here to stare?” lewis teases, the words rolling off his tongue smoothly. you pray for the ground to gape open, swallow you hole, suck you into hot lava.

“well, i was gonna apologise but i don’t think you deserve it.” you sneer, crossing your arms over your chest accusingly.

“didn’t think you knew how to apologise.” lewis grins sarcastically, mocking you.

“has anyone told you how arrogant you are?” you bite back, eyes narrowing.

“why don’t you come in here and i’ll show you just how arrogant i can be?” his voice has dropped a few octaves, seductive and low.

the proposition, the suggestion behind his words makes you fold immediately. you’d wondered for far too long about what he was like behind closed doors and under thick bedsheets, and if you had the chance at finding out, you’d be imbecilic not to take it.

you shove his muscled chest, pushing him back into his room. his hands find your waist, pulling harshly at the material of your loose t-shirt. he’s watching you intently, mesmerised by the angry flush on your cheeks tinging you pink. your eyes convey hunger, matching his, and you’re forcing him down to sit at the foot of his bed.

“why are you such an asshole?” you hiss, slotting your knees on either side of his so that you’re straddling him.

“probably the same reason you’re such a little bitch.” lewis growls, tugging you forward harshly on his lap. you feel his work out shorts ride up on his thighs, the material sensitive on your skin.

your pupils blow wide at his words, and you’re kissing him hard, teeth and tongues clashing messily. his lips are so soft, pillowy as they brush aggressively with your own and you lick wetly into his awaiting mouth. he’s addictive, minty, and you fall against his bare chest as he leans back into the mattress.

“i think you need to be taught some manners.” lewis grunts, flipping your bodies over like you’re nothing, and slotting against your body like a missing piece.

“i think the same could be said about you.” you breathe, sliding your hand under the waistband of his shorts. he chuckles quietly, the rumble reverberating through your own chest, cracking you open.

“try your best.” he whispers. your eyes roll back.

truth is, you’re not the most experienced person in the world. yes, you’re in your mid twenties, but a long term relationship with the worlds biggest loser and dedicating your life to a career in a boys club meant that you didn’t have the time to develop broadest set of skills. you didn’t have the luxury of letting loose in a nightclub with a stranger because if that information got into the wrong hands, you’d be slut-shamed off the face of the earth. so now, you found yourself a little bit lost under a literal sex god.

as if he can hear your thoughts, lewis pulls back.

“what’s the matter? do you want me to stop?” he’s softer than he ever has been with you, melting away in your hands, but you draw him back in, tightening your grip on the band of his shorts.

“no, no, i just…” the words die on your tongue. something in your eyes gives him all the information that he needs.

“do what feels right, good.” his nose brushes your jaw, kissing over it and you settle back into the moment.

“teach me a lesson.” you whisper, empowered in his hands, and he springs back into action, his demeanour slipping right back into what it had been.

“is that why you’re so bad in interviews? just want me to fuck some respect into you?” his lips tug amusedly when you nod rapidly up at him.

an experimental roll of his hips makes you keen, hand slipping into his braids and pulling hard. his eyes fall shut, lips parting to let out a soft groan, his eyebrows pinching from the rough pleasure. your fingers graze over the skin of his toned belly, finding sensitive skin that makes him shiver.

“you distracted, lew?” you taunt, with the only intention of riling him up.

his eyes snap open, hard and lacking any sort of warmth, and he tears your hands from where they rest on his firm body, swiftly pinning them above your head with one hand. he plants himself on one knee, balancing himself so that he can fiddle with the button of your shorts. he makes quick work of removing them, forcing the zipper down and skilfully manoeuvring them with just the one hand.

once they’re gone, along with the lace of your underwear, he forces your thighs apart, and slides his fingers along the seam of your cunt, slicking them up. you’re soaked and he momentarily falters, but he doesn’t let himself get too visibly affected.

“fuck, you’re so wet. been thinking about me, angel?” he teases mercilessly, as he rocks the first thick digit into you, twisting and curling until he finds the spot that makes you buck your hips.

“nothing to say now, hm?” lewis tuts, wetting his lips. the feeling of you squeezing so tight around just one of his fingers makes him choke out a moan. you can feel his hot breath fanning over your face, your eyes squeezing shut at the feeling of him filling you up.

“more.” you breathe, stuttering over just one word. he revels in how he’s managed to reduce you to this so quickly.

“you sure you can take it, angel? so fucking tight.”

“make me.” you plead, parting your strained thighs even wider for him.

he lets go of your hands, snaking down your body to get himself closer to where you’re dripping already.

“keep them there.” lewis orders, and you grip tightly onto the pillows to exercise restraint.

lewis presses his forearm over the plush of your belly, holding you down as he adds a second finger, watching in awe as it slips so effortlessly into your pussy. you’re mewling, fighting to buck your hips but the firm press of his muscled arm keeps you in place.

“so pretty for me, angel, soaking my fingers.” he notes, entranced at how responsive you are for him.

“want you inside of me, lew.” you whine, knuckles paper white where you’re fighting off the urge to reach down and touch him.

“wait.” he snarls, ramming his fingers even harder, grinding against the soft spot buried deep. “you’re gonna cum like this first.”

with that, he removes the barricade of his arm, bringing his spare hand to your clit, the pad of his thumb drawing calloused circles into the bud. you lose it, grinding down on his fingers like a woman possessed.

“that’s it, sweetie, fuck yourself for me.” lewis encourages, voice gravelly and low.

sparks shoot down your spine, nothing but white behind your eyelids as he lights you on fire. you can’t warn him, the words lost to the tense air of the room as you barrel towards your first release. he eases you through it, not letting up even a little bit, but it pays off when you can’t help but writhe against the cream of the bedspread.

“god.” you croak, flopping limp as he pulls out, crawling over you.

“learned your lesson?”

“not quite.” you flash an exhausted grin, abandoning your grasp on the pillows to slide them down his thick frame.

you trace the lion adorning his shoulder, the compass, each piece driving you further into utter delirium. your hands graze his waist, snaking around his abdomen until you reach the cross, tracing it until you reach words that keep him going.

still i rise the cursive reads, and he shivers as you rake your nails over it.

“fuck me.” you purr. your hands slide under his shorts once more, gripping at the curve of his ass. you push the material down over his thighs, and he happily kicks them away, his inked hands roughly spreading you even wider.

“desperate little thing, bet you go home after every race and fuck yourself silly wishing it was me, hm?” he adjusts himself between your legs, his thick cock nudging against you entrance, drenching himself in the mess he’d made.

you gasp out a moan as he slides deep, taking his sweet time. you can’t even comprehend his words, totally consumed by the brutally enticing stretch of him, your thighs shaking at the delectable intrusion. he hisses at the sensation of your tight warmth, his head falling to rest in the crook of your neck. lewis licks over the sensitive skin, trailing open mouthed kisses down to your collarbone. you feel the sharp graze of his teeth, gentle nips making you shudder on his cock.

“don’t leave a mark.” you choke, and lewis seems to get it, so he skims his teeth lower, sucking purple just over your heart.

you clamp down around him, allured by the tweak of pain, and it seems to spark something in him, his hips rolling into yours experimentally.

“you feel so fucking good.” lewis pants, his breath warm and wet on your neck.

“need you to move.” you plead, turning your head to capture his lips in an urgent kiss.

he pulls out, slamming back into you roughly, your tummy twisting with anticipation. lewis finds a rhythm that suits you both, hips hitting yours with every thrust, each one leaving you full and spent.

“gonna make sure you feel me for days.” he promises, yanking your legs over his hips. as he does, he hits deeper and you yelp, stars in your eyes. “when you sit in the car tomorrow, you’re gonna feel me and remember how to be a good fucking girl, not an attention seeking brat.”

you ramble his name, eyes flooding with tears of overstimulation, dumbfounded at how he seems to hit a new spot with every slide of his cock. he’s digging his fingers into the meat of your thighs, pulling your hips impossibly closer to his as he drives into you, as if he wants to become a part of you, moulded for an eternity. with the way your stomach knots, butterflies and adrenaline coursing through you, you’d comply; you’d let him do whatever he wanted to him anytime he wanted.

“‘m so close.” you whine, pulling on every part of him your hands can reach. a refreshed sense of determination builds in his eyes and he presses hard on your navel.

“so deep, can see it.” lewis slurs, eyes fixed on your belly.

those five words make you unravel, sending you hurtling over the edge. he can’t help but fuck you through it, hammering home while you spasm around him so tight that he struggles to move.

“fucking addicted to this pussy.” lewis groans, burying himself as deep as he can go.

you’re utterly enchanted as you watch him reach his release, gnawing at your bottom lip when his part in a moan, allowing gentle puffs of air to escape. his long eyelashes rest delicately over his cheeks as his eyes fall shut, your name spilling out of his mouth like a needy prayer.

you’re warm from the inside out, flushed and full when he settles, pressing his body weight into you completely.

-

two weeks later, you’re in japan, bored senseless in yet another press conference. lewis sits further down the couch, and you have to cross your legs every time he speaks. no one seems to notice, except him, of course.

when it’s your turn to speak, and you’re asked all about your little spat with sir lewis back in australia, you shrug, smirking.

“we made up.”

-

oof

-

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if you wanna be added or removed lemme know! :D

[no-144444]

married man- l.hamilton

Day 4 of fic-tober! fic-tober masterlist

summary: Married? Maybe. But why does everyone else need to know? 

pairing: lewis hamilton x indycardriver! fem! reader

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Lewis smiled as you walked into his driver’s room. It had been literal months since you’d last seen each other in person, months since you’d been in his sights in general, and a year since you’d been at a race. 

“Don’t you look pretty,” he smiled, wrapping his hands around your waist as you chuckled. 

“I could say the same for you,” you smiled, bringing a hand up to play with his hair. “Get ‘em retwisted recently?”

He nodded. “Had to look good for you,” he joked. 

You laughed. “You’re too good to me.”

He pressed his lips to yours, and man, did it feel right. You hadn't been with him for months. You missed your husband, and he missed you right back. His hands slid lower, gripping your ass as he sighed into your lips. “Missed you so much,” he mumbled. “Too long to not see you.”

It had been a very long time. You two lived together in Monaco, but you were successful in your own right. You were part of the Indycar racing series. You loved Indycar, and truly had no intention to pivot into F1. You were an American after all, born and raised out in Marfa, Texas. The seasons were never going to match up, but you and Lewis worked damn hard to make your relationship work, and work well. You texted everyday, called every second day for at least an hour, and made it a habit to see each other at least every 4 months. You’d gone longer this time, 6 months, since both of you were too busy with work or holidays or something else. But now, the Indycar season is over, you were the victor, and you planned to come to the rest of the F1 races, under the guise of being Carmen’s friend, not Lewis’s wife. No one really knew you two even knew each other, let alone got married 2 years ago.  

“I missed you too,” you smiled as he pressed kisses down your neck. “We can’t let it go this long again.” 

“I promise it won’t,” he sighed. “Missed having you here. It’s been a tough fucking season.” 

“I know baby,” you pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright,” he shrugged. “Ferrari better be the right move next year.”

“It will be. You’ll win your 8th and then you can come be my WAG in Indycar,” you smiled, making him laugh. 

“Always with the solutions,” he chuckled. “Who says I’m settling with 8?”

“Me. You’re getting old, baby. If you want little Hamiltons’ running around, then you’d better be at home to take care of them,” you smiled, though stern in your tone. 

“Yes ma’am,” he smiled. “Man, I love you.”

“I love you too, now, I’ll see you later, yeah?” 

“See you at the finish line my love,” he pressed a soft kiss to your cheek before you left. 

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He’d done it again, another win, somehow. Through the fucking Austin heat, he’d pulled through with that piece of shit strategy from Mercedes. You cheered in the paddock, all cameras on you, but you didn’t care. He’d won yet another GP and you were hardly going to gently clap. 

You ran up to the Parc Fermé with Carmen, both ecstatic at the result (George got P2). You watched in awe as he left the car, celebrating with the team. You’d missed his latest victory in Silverstone and you were delighted to not have missed this one. He ran over to the team, searching only for you. 

“Where’s Y/n?!” he shouted over the cheering. You grabbed at his arm and smiled when he finally made eye contact with you. Suddenly he helmet was pulled off, his lips were on yours,  you were over the barricade and in his arms. 

“Lewis!” you scolded with a smile, pulling away. “What are you doing?”

“Celebrating with my beautiful wife,” he smirked. 

It was difficult to stay mad at him when he was looking at you like you hung the stars just for him. 

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Transcription of Lewis Hamilton’s GQ Sports interview:

GQ: So, Lewis, another win in Austin this time, how did it feel?

Lewis: It was amazing, I mean there was just so much riding on the moment, and it gave us the extra points to get up to Ferrari. There’s such a great atmosphere at places like Austin, especially since it’s a Sprint race and a Feature race, it means a lot to get to win both. 

GQ: And now we’d like to talk about the obvious elephant in the room

Lewis: And what’s that? (chuckling)

GQ: Your secret relationship with Indycar winner Y/n Y/l/n?

Lewis: It’s Y/n Hamilton, actually, and yes, what about it?

GQ: You’re married?

Lewis: Past 2 years, but we’ve been dating for 5. Best 5 years of my life. 

GQ: How did you keep this from the press?

Lewis: Well, we’ve always been the kind of people who do our own thing, and we never really felt the need to be super open about our relationship because of that. We’re both introverts and we both enjoy what little privacy we can have in our mad world, and I think that’s another reason we didn’t tell anyone. We’re also not stupid. Sometimes relationships don’t work out, it’s happened to everyone, and we didn’t want to tell anyone until we were serious about each other, and by then, we were engaged and while we became less careful with hiding our relationship, we’re naturally private people, so it just… never slipped out I guess (shrugging). 

GQ: And what has your reaction been like to the reception of your relationship?

Lewis: (chuckling) It’s funny to see how the internet sees us now, y’know, it’s pretty amusing to see the edits and the theories and the people swearing they’ve known from the start. Honestly I’m really enjoying it. So is she. 

GQ: How did you two meet?

Lewis: I think it was actually Austin. Whenever we’re in America we usually get roped into meeting the Indycar side of our teams, if we have one, and she was just… there when I went to the track. It was so ridiculous, I was asking everyone who she was, and like, everything about her, it was bordering on embarrassing. 

GQ: What drew you to her?

Lewis: She’s just one of those people you meet once and know you can’t live without. She was so kind, and she was helping another team with their car because she’s an engineer, and she was literally being told off by her boss right then and there, and all she said back was, ‘If they have no car, they have no race. They’re not even close to us in the championship, all I’m doing is helping them put the thing back together. Have a bit of empathy’. I knew I was a goner. I just wanted to know everything about her. 

GQ: She’s a woman of the people? 

Lewis: She’s always helping people. We’re philanthropists when we’re not racing and she teaches free classes on engineering in the deep south to get kids out of poverty. They don’t even know who she is, she’s just their teacher, same as anyone else. It’s pretty incredible stuff. 

GQ: Wow, that sounds amazing. She sounds like a very incredible woman.

Lewis: She is. 

GQ: Finally, why did you keep this from everyone?

Lewis: Why shouldn’t we? When you’re in the public eye, everyone knows everything about you, and you’re just supposed to deal with that. We both just wanted something for ourselves rather than to broadcast absolutely everything. I’m deeply uninterested in giving the media more things to write about, and so is she. The only media about us we should be hearing is our race results, not who we’re dating and I think we’ve forgotten that in the past few years. It’s all become quite the popularity contest, and I’m getting tired of playing it.

GQ: Thank you for your time.

Lewis: You too.

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

fic-tober masterlist

taglist: @anotherapollokid @theseerbetweenus @simbaaas-stuff @5sospenguinqueen

[baby-yongbok]

Call me, baby

Hwang Hyunjin x Fem!Reader

♡ Genre - Smut, slow(ish) and then boom porn - Strangers to lovers (non-idol)

♡ Word Count: 7.6k

♡ Summary: Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing, where giving a beautiful stranger and eyebrow piercing can lead to the best fuck of your life.

♡ A/N: I started this as soon as photo's of Hyunjin with that damned eyebrow piercing came out. I am EXHAUSTED the horny took over, I'm ruined and now maybe you are too. 😭 I wanted to have this be a bit of a slow burn type of thing just so there could be some build up and longing ya know? I don't usually draw things out this long but I wanted to give it a shot. 💕Please enjoy it, I worked hard and I'd love to hear feedback. I also only lightly edited it for right now, I'll look over it again later! Gosh I'm exhausted. + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡

♡ Warnings: Pain slut Hyunjin, Descriptive piercing process, Biting, Hair pulling, Appearances by Lee Know, unprotected sex (safe sex is good. be safe ya'll) Oral (f&m receiving), nipple play (kinda? & not for too long + reader has nipple piercings)

✧ Masterlist ✧

“Hey, man. Welcome to Rockstar tattoo and piercing whatcha lookin for tonight?” Minho, your ex and fellow co-owner of the shop asks as that familiar jingle rings through the empty shop. You’re too busy cleaning up your space to listen in on what the new customer wants. You’re sure that it’s something simple since it’s close to midnight and all that gets done this late are simple piercings and tattoos that people will regret in the morning.   

“Baby, you got a customer up front.” Minho calls as he makes his way over to his station. The name prompts a fake gag and an award winning eye roll as you move across your station

“Do not call me that, ew.” The echo of Minho’s chuckle makes him sound closer than he is as he rounds the corner of the wall dividing your spaces. You’re a two person crew so you get to spend every second that you’re in this shop with your ex which wouldn’t be so bad if he and his new girlfriend weren’t all over each other every chance that they got. You love the girl and they’re a much better match than the two of you ever were but it’s been so long since you’ve been with someone that you feel like they’re just teasing you at this point.

“You used to love that.” With folded arms he leans against your side of the wall and you turn to him with a hand on your hip while the other one is full of supplies.

“And I used to love you.” He hisses, holding a hand over his heart with faux pain in his eyes. 

“Ouch.” You throw an empty ink cap at him and you both laugh. “Well since you don’t love me I’ll be right back.” He walks over to the front desk, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair and heading out to the front of the shop.

“Where the hell are you going?” You whine, running up behind him. He turns to face you with that mischievous glint in his eyes. Does he really need to go get his dick wet right now? 

“Seriously, Min!” He laughs at your incredulous scoff as he throws on his jacket. “If I’m not back in an hour, close up for me, yeah?” With a quick wink and a smirk he rushes out of the door before you even have a chance to protest. You know that he’ll be back, he always comes back but you still want to give him a piece of your mind. You flip him off as you watch him pass the large front window and he kisses back at you. You love that you two had a clean break but god does he get on your nerves. 

“Asshole.” You mumble under your breath as you look down at the form on the counter. “Hyunjin?” 

You hear shuffling in the very far corner of the waiting area as you flip through his paperwork. 

“That’s me.” You smile down at the clipboard once you hear his voice, at least he’s not some rude wasted guy. “You can come with me.” 

When you look up your jaw nearly hits the counter, is beautiful even the right word to describe this man? You don’t usually have a type but if you had to pick one it would be the man standing right in front of you. “ Uh, hey my name’s Y/n, I’ll be piercing you tonight and it uh-”

Gosh, his eye contact is intense, how does he do that? “It says here that you wanna get a horizontal eyebrow piercing?”

“Right.” He shakes his head as he rocks back and forth on his heels and you nod. 

“Awesome, it should be pretty quick, let’s do this.” You unlock the swing door and allow him back into your station. You decide to close the privacy curtain that separates your space from the rest of the shop since the chances of anyone else coming in is close to zero, you’re not as accessible as the shops close to town so this is the quiet hour for you.

Hyunjin watches as you start collecting the supplies that you’ll need. You move carefully, making sure that everything is just how you like it. “Have you been doing this for a long time?” You hadn’t even noticed the way that he seems to be nearly looking over your shoulder this entire time.

“Long enough.” He smiles at your shy laugh as you pick a marker from your cup. “We’ve owned this place for about three years.” 

“You and your boyfriend?” You scowl at his words, pulling a chuckle from his chest. “I guess he’s not your boyfriend.”

“He’s my ex, we already bought this place when we broke up so I couldn’t escape him.” A dramatic sigh follows your statement as you motion for him to sit down on the chair in front of you. “We're friends now, best friends, but I am a single girl.”

Hyunjin cocks his brow, causing you to accidently draw a line across his eyelid. “Sorry about that.” He chuckles and you smile at the soft sound. 

“It’s alright.” You clean him up and the feeling of his gaze burning into you makes you smirk. You’re more than used to clients staring at you, there are some that will try to make an ungraceful pass at you while they’re at it but for some reason having Hyunjin stare at you so intensely is welcomed? Maybe because he’s cute. That definitely helps. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You mark him perfectly this time and point him towards the mirror to check if he likes the placement. “Perfect.”

“Awesome let’s stick ya then.” You motion him towards your reclined chair and he gracefully fills the spot with his tall frame. “You’re not scared of needles are you?”

“Not at all.” The smirk on his face as he stares up at the ceiling catches you off guard. You’ve never seen anyone smile at the thought of getting stabbed before. You wipe your hands and snap on your gloves before moving in front of your rolling tray where all of your supplies are set up. “Did it hurt when you got yours?”

“Nope, but that’s probably because I did it myself.” You grab your scissor clamp and move next to Hyunjin. “Okay, so, the steps are to clamp the site, pierce it, feed the jewelry through and then you’re out of here.”

“Sounds easy enough, go ahead.” You nod leaning over him gently. This is the first time in all of your years as a piercing artist that you’ve felt self conscious about the deep V cut of your shirt. You usually couldn’t care less but right now you’re almost hyper aware of the way that you’re presenting yourself to the man in front of you. You’re also hyper aware of the way that he’s staring right at the lacey red of your bra that’s peeking out, or is it the studs of your nipple piercing pressing against your tight cotton shirt that’s caught his attention? Either way, the way that he’s staring is causing something that you haven’t felt in awhile to stir deep in your stomach.

“Gonna clamp you now, it shouldn’t hurt but just take a deep breath anyway.” You whisper as you turn his head a bit to get a better look at the piercing site. Now he’s really got a good view. He’s perfectly still as you clamp him and you praise him for every little thing that he does right, he seems to take a liking to that since every time something sweet comes out of your mouth he hums with contentment. 

“Ready for the stick?”

“Go ahead.” He licks his lips while his gaze is still trained on your chest and you can’t help but to push your thighs together. He seemed to have noticed since a ghost of a smile adorned his lips right after. 

“Breath in.” He follows your instruction and you position the needle right at the mark only pushing a bit to prepare him. “And out.” He was an easy stick, it went in perfectly. It was smooth and quick and he definitely hissed a moan when you did it. You stay in place, leaning over him with the plastic needle still in. 

“Everything good?” The sound of his moan rang through your ears as you avoided eye contact with him. He hums a confirmation, his eyes are shut now and his bottom lip is between his teeth. Good god. Did he not notice or does he just not care? Does he have a thing for pain? “I’m going to uh- feed the jewelry through.” 

You move his head a bit, trying to find the best position for the light to hit him. Why is the lighting so shitty all of the sudden? “Everything alright?” There’s a slight chuckle in his voice and you sigh.

“Yeah I just can’t get a good light right now. It’s like my damn shadow moved in the way.” You move a bit back and forth but nothing is comfortable enough. “Can I like… could you just move your hip over a bit?” He does as you ask immediately and you swiftly prop your knee up on the chair. 

“Thanks, that's so much better.” You grab the jewelry, and wedge it into the plastic needle for the feed through. “You’ll feel a bit of pressure, it might sting okay?”

“Mmhmm.” Just as you’re about to move the needle you feel the soft brush of his fingers on your inner thigh. That had to be an accident right? Do you want it to be an accident? Not really.

“One, two, go.” You slowly feed the jewelry through and this time a soft grunt leaves his lips but that’s not all. You freeze when you feel it, glancing down at Hyunjin while his eyes are still closed and his fingers grip the flesh of your inner thigh. “Good?”

“Great.” It’s a miracle that you didn’t moan at the feeling of him grabbing you but you decide to thank whatever higher power saved you instead of thinking about what if’s. One thing’s clear though; he definitely has a thing for pain.

“Let me just -” You reach over to your rolling tray and his grip on your thigh loosens but he doesn’t let go. “- Just gotta put the ball on the end.” You secure his jewelry, screwing on the end and wiping it down with bactine. 

“Done.” He sighs but he doesn’t move. You look down at him, expecting him to say something, but he stays silent. You take a deep breath, trying to ignore the electricity that having his hand inches away from your heat is causing. “Wanna look at it?”

He nods, finally moving his hand, now maybe you can breathe normally. You both move at the same time but he sits up much slower than expected. “Feeling good?” Hyunjin hums as he adjusts his pants and makes his way over to the mirror, leaning in to get a good look at the new accessory. 

“So good.” Yup, he has a pain kink. It’s confirmed.

Once you’ve cleaned up all the immediate things and rid yourself of your gloves you move over towards him slowly. Usually you’d make small talk but you don’t feel too capable of doing that with the way that your core is pulsing with need at the moment. 

You watch as he studies the piercing. You should be looking at it too but you can’t focus on anything but the sharp beauty of his features and the way that his wine red hair falls against his temples and compliments the blush running up his neck. As much as you try to stop yourself you can’t help but indulge in taking him in further. You can’t help but to let your gaze run down the length of his strong arm and admire the way that his black sweats are hanging from his hips. Your eyes linger on the hem of his pants for a second too long and that’s when you notice it. Right below the perfect bow of his drawstrings is a delicious bulge that you desperately want to show attention to. Your tongue darts out, licking at the corner of your mouth a bit as you eye him. Snap out of it, come on.

“Think I should get a tattoo there?” Your eyes snap to his reflection but he’s already looking at you. Fuck, did he catch you staring? Of course he did, it was so obvious. “I’ve been thinking about it.” 

His smile makes you feel like you could explode at any second but you decide to try a bit harder to contain yourself. “I think that could be hot.” Fuck, no no no, why did you say that.

“Hot? You think so?” He cocks his eyebrow just like he did earlier but this time the gold stud adorning his thick brow makes a shiver run up your spine and sends a spark to your clit. He was already hot without the piercing but now it’s just unfair.

“Uh yeah, I do.” Before you can try to turn around and make your escape from further embarrassing yourself he turns to you. 

“Would you do it?” His eyes are focused on yours and for some reason you can’t find it in you to look away. 

“Do…your hip tattoo?” He nods and you shift your weight as you imagine the process. Could you even stand to be that close to his dick? You’re standing in front of him right now and you feel like you could combust from the eye contact. Surely you’ll melt if you end up having to stare at his hard dick for hours while he gets off on the pain of your needle for a second time. 

“I would.” Your answer leaves your lips in a half whisper before you can even think about it but the smile that pulls at his lips makes you forget your prior argument. “Just let me know when.”

“Do you have a card?” 

“Up front, I’ll give it to you with your care instructions.” You find yourself glancing down one more time before attempting to blink away all of your horny thoughts. As much as you want to fall to your knees and relieve him of his pain induced hard on you have to keep it professional, even if you were just caught staring at his dick print. “You paid when you came in, right?”

Quickly, you make your way around him to open your curtain and lead him to the counter. “Yeah I did.” You can feel him close behind you as you unlock the swing door to let him out.

“But you did such a great job.” The slam of the small door behind him makes you jump a bit but his following question is what really did it. “Do you take tips? Or could I give you more than that?”

You choke a bit on your inhale but at the same time there couldn’t possibly be a hint of oxygen left in your body with the way that he’s looking at you with his arms crossed and leaning on the counter. Your brain isn’t working anymore, it’s completely smooth as you stare back at Hyunjin’s cool smile. Hell, if he’s offering you’re going to take it.

Just as you’re about to calculate your own suggestive reply that familiar jingle echoes off the walls and your gaze lands on none-other than your godforsaken ex. He eyes you as you stand behind the counter with red cheeks and your palms spread and pressing into the desk. 

“All good?” He looks between you and Hyunjin with raised brows. You force a smile as you frantically scan the desk for the care instruction packet. 

“Yup, all good.” The sigh that follows your sentence is less than convincing but Minho lets it slide in the name of trusting you. You turn your attention back to Hyunjin who’s eyes were already on you. “So here are the care instructions. Don’t change it for about two months and uh, just make sure to keep it clean and um yeah everything that you need to know is in here.”

He takes the packet, brushing his fingers against yours in the process. Hopefully the way that you shivered wasn’t too obvious. Are you really that down bad? Usually you’re witty and flirty, you tend to have a pretty smart mouth with customers but as soon as you saw Hyunjin all of that went right out the window. 

“Your card.” He nods towards the display on the desk and you quickly grab one for him.

“It has the shop number and my instagram on there. If you want to contact me directly, Instagram is the best way to do it but I’m here almost everyday. If I’m not coming in, I'll post it on my story.” He flips the card between his fingers allowing you to get a good look at what you wish were still grabbing at the tender flesh of your thighs. Your focus breaks when he rubs the card between his fingers and a second one falls to the counter. “Oh, must’ve given you two by accident.”

“So I’ll message you.” Standing straight he slips the card into his pocket. “If I have any questions.” He takes a step back, taking you in one more time. 

“Yeah, I’ll answer as fast as I can.” 

“Baby, did you use the last of the caps?” Minho calls from the storage room and the scoff that follows makes Hyunjin laugh. 

“Stop calling me that for goodness sake.” With the flash of a quick smile and mumbled goodnight you leave Hyunjin at the front and head over to your annoying cock blocking ex. Once you get to him you see him leaning against the storage room door with his eyes on his phone screen. “I thought you were looking for caps.”

“Nah, figured that you needed me to save you. That guy should’ve been gone already.” Did he seriously just ruin any chance that you had at getting laid tonight? And by a man as hot as Hyunjin at that. 

“We were talking.”

“You don’t do small talk.” Minho’s pinched brows earns him an eye roll as you head over to your station. “So he wasn’t bothering you?”

“Far from it.” The way that you’re aggressively cleaning your tray gives Minho all the hints he needs but it would be out of character for him to just drop the topic.  

"Then what was he doing?" Minho asks in his teasing tone that you’ve grown to be more than familiar with. You pause and sigh as your mind lingers on the feel of Hyunjin’s fingers gripping you and the sounds he made with each hint of pain. 

"He was trying to make me interested." 

“Was it working?” The silence that followed his question spoke louder than any words could. “His number is on the form ya know.”

“Just lock up, Minho. I’m not breaking any privacy laws just so I can get fucked.” He throws his hands up in surrender, backing away and heading to the front. You close your eyes, taking a deep breath to try and contain the many emotions running through you. You should’ve been on your game tonight but Hyunjin just threw you off. You haven’t been that attracted to anyone in so long that all of your skills went right out the window as soon as he looked at you. Maybe he’ll message you? Ask you a question or two and then ask you out. What if he doesn’t? What if Minho scared him off and you never hear from him again?

“Baby.” 

“Lee Minho, stop calling me -” You pause when you turn to him, looking down at the card he’s offering you between his fingers. “What?” He extends his arm to you further, earning his third eye roll of the day as you snatch the cardstock away from him.

“It’s my card.” You shrug at him.

“Turn it over.” Your pulse picks up a bit once you notice the red ink on the back of the card. Hyunjin’s name and number is written in pretty symbols right across the middle with a small note. ‘Call me, baby.’

“I’ll stop calling you that now.” 

Sleep didn't come easy last night but you sure did at the thought of Hyunjin. It doesn't help that you texted him immediately and he didn't waste a second before replying to you. Your night was spent getting to know him a bit as your mind danced on the idea of him fucking you into your mattress. The amount of time that you pretended that your fingers were his slender ones while you answered one of his questions is actually award winning. The taping of your cum covered fingers against your screen went on until you tired yourself out and fell asleep while waiting for his next text. 

“Going out.” Minho looked up from the sketch book in front of him just in time to watch as you grabbed your jacket from the chair next to his. 

“Did ‘baby’ call?” For the first time in a while you find yourself smiling and unbothered by his teasing. “She's smiling, did you finally catch a dick.”

“I'll let you know in a couple of hours.” The look on Minho’s face isn't one that you see often but it's your absolute favorite. “I'll be back, baby.”

You barely got to knock twice before the door to Hyunjin’s apartment swung open. He looks just as good if not better than he did last night and the fact that you’ve gotten to know him a bit better over text for the past couple of hours makes you feel like a college student sneaking into someone's dorm after curfew. It’s safe to say that you have a big fat crush now.

“Hey, nice piercing.” He pulls you into a quick hug before ushering you further into his place. Your eyes wander across his walls, taking in every detail. He really is the artsy type. 

“Thanks, some girl did it for me last night.” He watches you take in his space with hungry eyes, no matter how much he tells himself that he just met you and that he wants to take it slow he can’t seem to pace himself. The amount of times that he came into his fist last night just thinking of how pretty your nipple piercings must be and how your thighs would wrap perfectly around him is insane. Unfortunately, the orgasms didn’t put out the fire that burned for you deep in his stomach, it only made the flame bigger.

“Oh yeah?” You face him as you peel your jacket off slowly, letting it slide off of your shoulders and down your arms so gracefully that he couldn’t possibly ignore it. “Was she hot?”

His eyes fix on the fabric stretching tight against your chest, how dare you call that a shirt. It’s keeping little to nothing to the imagination but he can’t say that he’s mad at it. “So fucking hot, I couldn’t stop staring at her.”

Your jacket finds a home on the arm of his couch while you check out the paintings on his living room wall. The stretched canvas and sheets of beautifully stained paper are littered all over the ivory wall, serving as the only real means of decoration in this area of the room. “Do you think that she noticed?”

The energy around you turns electric as he steps up behind you, just close enough not to touch you. “I hope that she did.” 

“Why?” Your breathing is slow and shallow as your eyes run across the colors of the paintings on the wall. You’re not really taking in the beauty of the art anymore, you’re more concerned with the masterpiece standing behind you and what he’ll say next.

“So that she doesn’t feel surprised when I say -” He leans into you, fiddling with one of the paintings and pressing himself lightly into your back. A blistering heat washes over you at the feel of him against you. It’s so much more than you imagined it to be. “- That I think that she’s beautiful.”

He reaches for another painting, stepping forward just a bit to be closer to you. “And that as much as I want to take it slow and get to know her -” He slowly retracts his hand, stepping back and breaking all contact. You sigh, swallowing hard as you hang on each of his words. “I just can’t go another second without knowing what she feels like.”

You turn your head to the side, catching a glimpse of his burning gaze as he stares down at you. His dark eyes are undressing you before he even gets the chance to touch you. Something like you did to him yesterday. “I think that she’d feel the same way.” It’s a bit of a challenge but you manage to hold eye contact with him as you turn your body to face him.

“You think she’d let me touch her?” Eyes, lips, chest and repeat. That’s the pattern that his gaze follows while he waits for your answer. 

“I think she wants you to, so so badly.” His eyes meet yours and his hands are on you in an instant, grabbing at the plush of your waist and pushing you against the wall of art work behind you. 

“Thank god.” He whispers against your lips before attaching them in desperate hunger. The sound of paper and canvas falling to the floor is merely background noise in the heat of the moment.

He’s soft and sweet like honey, his touch is like satin against your skin and your head is fuzzy. Holy fuck. He swallows the moan that escapes you as you welcome his tongue into your mouth, offering his own sinful sounds as a counter. His hands are grabbing at the exposed skin of your stomach while he pushes your shirt up to expose more of you. Your hands fist the fabric of his shirt, you want him closer. You need him closer. He pulls away abruptly, staring down at you panting and flushed. He takes a step back and you take a step forward. 

“Think she’ll let me fuck her?” He continues to step back from you and you match each move that he makes. Your hands find the bottom hem of your shirt and you pull the fabric over your head, revealing your flimsy lace bra to him. A hiss falls from his lips as he falls back into his couch. Sitting with his legs spread and ready for you, the perfect seat. 

“You better fuck her.” Once you climb onto his lap his lips are back on yours in an instant. The kiss is hungry, desirous, passionate. It’s everything that you knew it would be and more. His palms rest on your breasts, kneading the flesh and flicking at the heart studs of your nipple piercings. A shiver runs over you at the feeling and Hyunjin smiles against you at the reaction.

“Sensitive?” He mumbles, following with a kiss and you nod with a deep moan. “Fuck.” He pushes your breast together, jiggling them in his palms while he watches with his bottom lip between his teeth. 

“I wanted to see these so badly last night.” You knew he was staring. “Wanted to run my tongue over these pretty little studs.” 

“What’s stopping you now?” You grind your hips into him, milking a choked moan from his throat. He’s so hard underneath you, his sweat pants are doing little to restrain his pulsing cock from pressing into your needy core but even that bit of pressure is not enough to satiate your hunger. His fingers peel down the lace of your bra and you watch as his tongue dips out of his mouth and swirls the silver jewelry. “Hyunjin.” 

He hums, content with the way that his name sounds falling from your pretty lips, it’s then that you remember last night. Praise and pain, those are his things right? Let’s test it out.

The feeling of his tongue laving over your sensitive peak breaks you out of your thoughts and fogs your mind all over again. He shows both of your breasts equal attention, wetting your nipples with long drags of his tongue followed by a skillful swirl of the muscle around your shiny silver bars. “ So good, oh my god.” He hums, sucking a bit harder at the sound of your sweet words. 

Your fingers lace through the wine red strands of his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp for a bit until he grazes his teeth over the sensitive peak of your nipple. You’re pulling at his roots before you can even process it but the pornographic moan that escapes him as he falls into your touch makes you happy that you did it.

“A pain slut?” Matching smirks paint your faces but his is quickly swept away when you bring your other hand up through his roots and pull again. “I knew it.” You grind into him, the moans escaping him are making you hungry for friction all over again. 

His hands grasp your hips, gripping you so tightly that you’re sure there will be beautiful bruises there in the morning. “What gave me away?” His eyes stay on yours as you hold his head back by his hair. Yesterday his gaze was blinding but tonight you find it easier to handle the heat that it causes to rise on the surface of your skin. You’re okay with going blind if he’s the last thing that you see. 

“Hm.” His eyes flutter shut at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his pulse “Maybe it was the way you moaned when I stuck you.” Sloppy kisses and small nibbles of his milky flesh draws a moan similar to the one that’s been playing in your head all night to leave his blushed lips.

“Or the way that you grabbed my thigh.” Your teeth sink into the flesh of his neck and the sound that he makes in response is nearly enough to make you cum on the spot. “Or how hard you were when I was finished.”

“Do that again.” So biting is his favorite, huh? 

“Say please.” 

“Please, do that again. Bite me, harder. Please let me feel that again.” He’s begging? You’ve never been with a man who was willing to do that. A mumbled praise makes his cock twitch against you as one of his hands slips down to your ass, gripping the cheek firmly but not squeezing. Your teeth sink into his neck again, a deep guttural groan escapes him while his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass through your jeans. “Oh, baby.”

You pull away at the feeling of a warm spot beneath you. When you look down at your clothed cores the sticky wet spot presents itself to you. He came just from you biting him and he's still hard. No fucking way.

“You made a mess.” A familiar darkness falls upon his gaze and now it's your turn to moan from the grip he has on your hair. “Clean it up for me, angel.”

You crawl backwards off of his lap, lowering down onto your knees as his grip in your hair ensures that your eyes stay on his. He shimmies his pants down with his free hand, your eye contact falters for just a second so that you can steal a glance at his cock. He’s bigger than you thought he’d be, long and curved ever so slightly. The angry red tip is glistening with cum in the low light, you run your tongue along your lips at the thought of sucking him clean. 

“One day you’ll give me a pretty tattoo right here, won’t you?” He pulls your hair towards him, controlling your head so that you lean into his hip. You plant a sloppy kiss against his skin, nipping and licking like a desperate puppy. His cock twitches at the feel of your lips on the newly discovered patch of skin. “I’ll be hard as a rock with your pretty face so close to my cock.” He moves your head over just enough for you to lick up some of the cum from his flawless thigh. 

“You think you could do it? Think you could be that close to my cock and not put me in your mouth?” Little does he know that you’ve already thought about it and the answer is no. Hell no, absolutely not. “Maybe it would be me who loses control.”

He yanks back on your hair, lifting your head back up to meet his gaze. He brings his bent pointer finger to your chin and runs his thumb down your swollen lips. “I have a feeling that I’ll be addicted to this mouth.” His eyebrow piercing catches the light as he stares down at you and you can’t help but to feel turned on by the fact that you did that to him. You’re responsible for that pretty stud on this pretty man. 

“Let’s see if I’m right.” You open your mouth eagerly once he sits back and guides you over to his waiting cock. A hiss escapes him once you take him to the hilt, swallowing around him with watery eyes. He marvels at the way your pretty lips stretch around him, taking every single inch of him until his tip makes your throat bulge and your mouth water. You bob your head, licking and sucking him clean. The taste of his cum is so sweet, so perfect, maybe you’re just insanely horny or maybe he’s your new favorite candy. The only thing you’ll have a craving for from this point on. 

“That throat is taking me so well.” The vibration of your hum makes Hyunjin bite his lip as he watches you. You bring your hands up to his naked thighs and claw your nails lightly down the exposed skin. His cock twitches in your mouth and your pussy throbs at the feeling of it. You’re a big fan of foreplay, it’s super important and fun and everything but you would do anything to skip all of this and simply feel Hyunjin’s cock sink into your dripping pussy. “This is what you wanted yesterday isn’t it? This is what you wanted when you were staring at my dick?”

The deep rasp of his voice as he asks such filthy questions makes you press your thighs together, Hyunjin moves his foot in between your knees. Kicking your legs apart and taking away the relief you were chasing.

“Need me now?” Your desperate gaze up at him is all the answer that he needs. He lets go of your hair and you slowly come up off of his cock, swirling your tongue around the tip a bit and releasing him with a string of spit still connecting you. He offers you his hand to help you up off of your knees before dropping to his own right in front of you. 

With a burning gaze on your naked stomach he unbuttons your jeans and slowly drags them over the curve of your hips. His eyes scan every inch of newly exposed skin, leaving sweet soft kisses against the silky skin of your thighs. He takes a deep breath before pulling your panties down, his hands lingering against your bare skin as he admires your body. He leans in and places a soft kiss against your exposed center once you step out of your panties. What was supposed to be a simple kiss turned into a few kitten licks against your clit which then quickly evolved into long drags of his tongue through your folds while he palms your ass. 

“Hyun- Hyunjin holy fuck.” Your fingers thread into his dark strands again, lightly pulling at his roots and milking moans from him. “Please fuck me. Please just fuck me I want to feel you.”

“Gotta get you ready.” He spits onto your clit, watching it drip down your lips a bit before catching with his tongue and spreading it over your folds. “I need my girl dripping around my cock.”

His lips wrap around your clit and you throw your head back in a silent scream before looking down at him. His eyes are closed as he laps at your pussy, sucking and licking like his life depends on it. You admire the shimmer of his fresh piercing as you watch him, pathetic whimpers falling from you as he dangles your orgasm in front of your face. You’ve been thinking about him for hours and now you’ve finally got him. You get to cum on his tongue and watch him slurp up every drip of your essence.

“I’m gonna cum, oh my god.” Your grip on his hair tightens and he hisses against you. He swirls his skilled tongue around your swollen clit a couple of times and you can feel the blistering heat setting all over your body. You’re so close, it’s so good and then he pulls away.

“Hyun-” Your whine is cut off by the soft yet aggressive feeling of his lips on yours.

“I want you to cum on my cock.” The taste of your pussy on his tongue distracts you from the feeling of him guiding you to the couch. He pushes you down, watching you with a smirk as he pushes his damp hair out of his face. You watch as he pulls his shirt over his head, balling it up and using it to dap at the sweat on his forehead before throwing it to the side with the rest of your clothes. “Do me a favor.”

His fingers dig into your plush waist as he positions you. He props his knee on the soft cushion,  lining himself up with your entrance and teasing your sopping folds with his leaky tip. “Anything.” You fist the pillow right above you, placing it under your head to get a bit more comfortable. 

“Call me baby.” He slips into you before you can even reply to him, stretching you out so deliciously and filling up your gushing pussy until his tip kisses your cervix. The moan that echoes through his apartment is high pitched and airy, your lungs burn from the electricity charged air as you cry out for him, gripping at the couch cushions as you try to ground yourself.

“Baby.” The first time that his hips snap into you his jaw clenches and his eyes roll to the back of his head. His imagination barely did you justice last night, his fist is nothing compared to the way that your pussy is clenching around him. The ungodly squelches of his cock plunging into you sends shivers down his spine. 

“Fuck, you’re heaven.” He coos, the rasp in his voice makes your pussy clench around him as he presses your thighs back towards your chest. Hyunjin picks up the pace, snapping into you with unholy force. 

It’s been so long since you’ve felt anything but your own fingers and it’s been even longer since you’ve been fucked this good. Not even Minho can top this and he was the best fuck you ever had. The mascara stained tears running down your cheeks translates all of that to Hyunjin without you having to say a word, it’s not like you could say anything but his name even if you wanted to. Your orgasm creeps up on you again, dangling in front of you like bait for a fish.

“Hyun - Hyunjin please don’t stop. Gonna cum gonna -” You cry out as he slams into you, filling you to the hilt and staying as still as possible. “Please please, ‘s so close please.”

“Not yet, baby.” he beckons you with two fingers, motioning for you to sit up. He helps you up, shifting your position so that you’re on top of him. You clench around him at the movement and he hisses at the tight feel of you. He’s close too but he wants you to fall apart on top of him. He wants to see you fall apart up close so that he can fuck his fist to the memory of it for days after.

 “Ride me, come on.” A firm slap to your ass makes your hips buck into him as you start to move along his length. 

You’re fucked out, chasing your pleasure desperately on top of a pretty man with a pretty cock. He wraps his arms around you, hugging you against his chest when he suddenly starts fucking up into you. He’s impossibly deep and you find yourself gasping for air against his shoulder. Moans and grunts fill the hot air as you fuck each other. For each thrust into you, you grind down on his cock, keeping him deliciously deep in your cunt. Your teeth mindlessly graze over the slope of his shoulder before you bite down into him. Bite, lick, suck. That’s the pattern you follow, over and over again. Making him sing for you as his fingers caress your spine. 

“Come on, you can do it harder than that.” He gasps when you accept his challenge, biting into him with a bruising force. His thrusts become more erratic as he nears his climax but he’s determined to let you soak his cock before he pulls out. “Look at me, baby.”

He leans back into the sofa and his hand moves between your bodies once your eyes meet his. His middle and pointer finger rubs circles into your clit while he ruts up into you “Yes yes, yes ‘s so good.” 

“You like my cock, pretty girl?” The fog in your brain is so thick that you can’t help but to babble as your orgasm climbs up your spine for the third time tonight.

“Love it. Love cock, you -you’re cock. Hyunjin, ‘m gonna cum o-on your cock.” He thought that you were breathtaking before but watching you cock drunk and fucked out while you’re bouncing on his dick might be his favorite way to see you. 

“Go ahead, cum on my cock.” With a few more sloppy thrusts your body trembles against him as you come undone on top of him. He fucks you through it, keeping his fingers pressed against your clit as you squirm on top of him. Your vision goes white and there’s a ringing in your ears that blocks out every word of praise that falls from Hyunjin’s lips. The only thing that you can register is the pressure of his cock as he simultaneously abuses your cervix and clit. 

“Hyun- fuck fuckfuck. So much. Too much.” Once you find the strength to open your eyes you're met with Hyunjin smiling up at you with pinched brows. “You can take it.”

“Pull my hair, baby.” Your trembling hands find their way along the familiar path of his scalp seconds after his request. Pulling at his roots with a delicious force that makes Hyunjin’s eyes roll back as he licks his lips.

“Oh fuck, you’re gonna make me cum.” Moans and whines fall from you nonstop as he fucks into your swollen and sensitive cunt, the wet sound of your arosual where Hyunjin’s cock disappears into you echoes off the walls until he stops, breath hitching in his throat. “Come here.”

His hand is in your hair before you can protest, lifting you off of him and onto your knees. Your cunt feels so empty without him inside of you. “Gonna let me cum on those pretty tits?”

“Yeah, yeah please. Wan' your cum, baby.” He throws his head back, pumping his slick cock in front of your face while you mindlessly slur praises for him. “You’re so fucking pretty, please let me have it. Please, I wan' Jinnie’s cum.” 

“Baby, baby, cumming. I’m fucking cumming.” You both watch as thick ropes of his cum paints your breasts. Dripping over your nipples and the shiny studs just how Hyunjin pictured it last night. “Shit.” 

Your panting fills the room as you both take a second to come down from your high. Hyunjin offers you his hand, helping you up from your knees and catching you when you stumble a bit with a chuckle. “Let me clean you up so you can lie down.” He sits you on the couch, grabbing his sweats and pulling them on before making his way to the bathroom for a wet cloth. 

You blink a couple of times, trying your best to adjust to the light around you. It’s dim but everything seemed darker in your fucked out haze. You settle against the armrest of the sofa, smiling like an idiot while the pulsing of your clit reminds you of everything that just happened. Who would’ve thought that an eyebrow piercing could lead you to having the best fuck of your life. Just as you allow your eyes to flutter shut you feel a heavy vibration under you. With a groan you lift yourself up and search for the source. It’s your jacket, it must be your phone. Oh my gosh, Minho! You sit up with all the strength that you can muster, unlocking your phone and checking your messages. 

“Everything alright?” Hyunjin questions as he kneels in front of you with a warm cloth in hand.

“Yup, just fine.” You grin down at your screen before pushing your phone to the side and allowing Hyunjin to wipe you clean.

From Minho: Knew you weren’t coming back.  

[twirlyleafs]

”Start of the season-drama”

Max Verstappen x reader

TW: angst, assumed cheating

~~~~

“I wish you could come with me.” You looked over at your boyfriend next to you by the kitchen counter. He didn’t meet your gaze, face contoured in concentration as he formed the ground beef into patties.

“I know baby.” You agreed, reaching for a bowl to put the cut cucumber in. Max grabbed it for you.

“Are you sure you can’t come with? Bahrain is nice.” He softly bumped his arm against yours, offering a playful smile. You chuckled, shaking your head.

“I would love to, you know that. But I have my thesis to write.”

“You can do that on the road.” He tried, but you both knew the answer. This conversation had been on repeat for the last few months and every time it ended with Max, somewhat disappointed, agreeing that it would be best if you stayed home. You weren’t surprised he tried one last time tonight.

“Even if I could Maxie, I still have to work and I can’t do that from Bahrain.” Even before he spoke up you knew what his next argument would be and if anything got under your skin, it was this.

“You don’t need to work though. You have me.” The way he said it so casually, like he always did, had your stomach twisting. You hated that he saw it like that, and no matter how many times you talked about it Max didn’t seem to understand your point of view. You clenched your jaw, physically biting your tongue not to say anything back. Instead you concentrated back on the work on the cutting board, brows slightly furrowed. Things were quiet for a few moments, Max being busy with the meat in the frying pan, and you had almost blocked him out completely, deep in your own thoughts, when you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist. Your back was softly pulled flush against his chest and a second later he nudged the side of your head with his nose.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, pressing a few kisses against your cheek and down your shoulder. “Of course you have things to do here, I get that. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.” You couldn’t help but smile, the frown melting of your face in a second. How could you ever stay annoyed at him when he was this cuddly and cute? You placed the knife down, turning around in his rather tight grip to face him. Max looked down at you, tilting his head slightly as to ask if he was forgiven. You just reached up to grab his cheeks, bringing his face down to yours for a kiss. You felt him smile against your lips.

“I’m going to miss you too.” You said when the two of you finally pulled apart. “But it’s just two weeks, right?”

“Hmm.” Max nodded, fingers pressing into the skin just above your hips. “Then I’ll come straight back home and I won’t leave your side for at least a few days.” You laughed at that, snaking your arms around his torso and leaning your head against his chest. Max pulled you even closer, a deep breath leaving his lips. You were going to miss him, but two weeks went fast and you told yourself that he’d be back, preferably with two wins under his belt, before you knew it.

~

The first race had been amazing. You had watched from home with some of your friends, absolutely ecstatic and somewhat tipsy as your boyfriend passed the finish line in first place what felt like hours ahead of the rest. When he called you after the win you had literally screamed into the phone how proud you were of him and hearing him laugh loudly on the other end had you smiling the whole night.

That was four days ago. You had been busy, work was more chaotic than normal and your limited freetime was spent in the library working on your thesis. Unfortunately, this also meant that you had missed a few of Maxs phone calls and when you’d called him back he had been busy instead. You texted a lot, but it had been a few days since you last heard his voice and you were starting to miss it.

Getting back late from the library, not at all happy with the work you had done, all you wanted to do was to call Max and have him tell you about his day. You knew he had been at the annual banquet in Jeddah last night, which he hated, and you were excited to hear all the gossip. You sunk down in the couch, making yourself comfortable as you searched up the results of the first practice round. You always wanted to know how things were going for Max before you spoke to him, partly to show him that you cared and partly because you wanted to know what mood he might be in. You smiled to yourself, pleased, when you saw him at the top of the rankings. Absentminded you begun to scroll down among the tweets, rolling your eyes at the people hating on Max and grinning proudly at all the people joking about how this season would just be win after win after win for him. Suddenly you stopped, a tweet written all in caps catching your eye.

MAX VERSTAPPEN LOOKING DAPPER WITH MYSTERIOUS BLONDE! DID HE LEAVE HIS GIRLFRIEND AT HOME?

You raised your eyebrows, not being able to stop yourself from clicking on the photos. Surely it was going to be something dumb, you were used to the rumors surrounding your boyfriend and you had simply learned to just tune them out. Scrolling through the pictures now, however, you could feel your stomach drop. It was blurry, but it was clearly Max. The photos were taken from far away but you saw him, dressed handsomely in a suit and bowtie, with his arms tightly wrapped around a tall blonde. Her back was turned against the camera so you couldn’t make out her face, but you didn’t recognize the body at all. The two of them seemed to be alone, standing outside what looked like the building where the banquet was held. In one picture Max was shown grabbing her cheeks, staring down at her. You squinted, as if that would help you distinguish his expression, but you couldn’t quite tell what was happening. You couldn’t deny that it sure looked like he was about to kiss her. Quickly locking your phone you dropped it in your lap, staring down at the black screen with wide eyes. That wasn’t just some rumor, something someone had claimed to see or made up. Those were real photos, photos of Max being way too close for comfort with someone who clearly wasn’t you. You knew you should calm down, take a step back until you could talk to him and let him explain. Surely there was an explanation that didn’t involve him actually cheating on you? Right? Before you had time to spiral further your phone lit up again, the picture of Max sleeping, drooling, in a cab you had as his contact photo illuminating your screen. Acting on reflex you picked it up, sliding your finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Baby!” He seemed surprised that you answered but quickly regained himself. “Am I disturbing you? Are you at home?”

“I just got home.” You answered, frowning at the shortness of your own tone. You weren’t sure how to approach him, you weren’t even sure what to say. Were you mad? Sad?

“Good. Feels like we’ve just missed each other the past few days.” Max shuffled around on the other end and you assumed he was laying in bed. With a content sigh he spoke again and you could hear the smile on his face. “How are you my love?”

“I’m good.” You mumbled, clicking on the speaker icon and placing your phone down in your lap.

“How’s the thesis coming along? I assume you just came from the library?”

“Hmm, yeah I did. It’s fine.” Max obviously picked something up in your voice because he was quiet for a few seconds before speaking up again.

“I hope you’re not spreading yourself too thin baby, you have to take a break sometimes.” His voice was full of concern and you don’t know if it was that or the pictures still haunting you but suddenly all you wanted was to be next to him. “Have you eaten today?”

“Actually,” you began, deciding what to say as the words were coming out of your mouth. “I was thinking about maybe coming to you? I think I can make it to the race if I leave tomorrow and-“ you stopped as you heard Max laugh on the other end, stomach twisting at the sound you usually loved. That was not the reaction you wanted.

“You know I miss you but that’s crazy baby.” He chuckled. You could feel the pressure take form behind your eyes. “You have things to do and I’ll be home in less than a week.”

“Yeah but I want to see you now. I thought you’d want that too.” You hated that his reaction, a very reasonable reaction at that, left you feeling so hurt.

“Of course I want to see you, but you shouldn’t come all the way here when we both know-“

“I shouldn’t?” His choice of words felt like a punch in the stomach and you frowned down at the phone. Max took a second too long to respond so you spoke again. “Why shouldn’t I? You don’t want me there?”

“What’s all this coming from?” The smile was far gone from his voice and now he just sounded bewildered. “You’re the one who opted to stay home because you had work to do.”

“Yeah well that was before I knew you’d cozy up with some other girl if I’m not there.”

You pressed your eyes shut, cringing at your own words the second they left your lips. You did not mean to put that out there like that. The line went quiet for a moment before Max broke the silence, voice as confused as it gets.

“What?”

You wanted to cry. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you say?”

“Nothing Max. Don’t worry about it.” You snapped, hating yourself more every time you opened your mouth. You really needed this conversation to be over, preferably before you started to cry. “I’m actually really tired, I think I’m-“

“No no no, you don’t just get to throw something like that at me and then hang up. What did you mean by that?”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.” You were rambling. “Just forget it. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You heard Max say your name before you hung up, heart feeling like it was beating out of your chest.

[madridfangirl]

Drunken first goal celebrations

(Jude Bellingham one-shot)

Summary: Jude scores his first goal of the season, celebrates with his team and then with his girlfriend. Fluff & SMUT.

As the ball moved towards the net, past the goalie, the world stood still for Jude in those split seconds. 

The deafening noise of the Bernabeu faded in the background, as did the sounds of his team-mates calling out his name.

All he fixated on was the sight of that ball at the back of the net. Something that was a common occurrence for him last season yet was so hard to come by this year. 

It felt like his first goal all over again.

The overwhelming feeling was relief. The curse seemed to be broken. 

And then his teammates jumped on him and got him out of his reverie. 

Rest of the match was a dream. Madrid had won convincingly after a long long time. Hope was coming back to the fans and in the dressing room. All was not lost in the season, not yet.

Vini knew what that goal meant to Jude, as did the rest of the team. Special cuddles were awarded to Jude in the dressing room to celebrate his moment. Even though it was Vini’s hattrick, the team very much wanted it to be Jude’s moment. They knew how crucial it was for his confidence.

A special after party was arranged at Vini’s house. Filled with tequila and euphoria. Up next was international break so they had the luxury to let loose tonight. And let loose they did. The season had barely given them moments to celebrate and tonight felt like an inflection point of sorts. Jude wanted to soak in this moment.

In all honesty, Jude wanted to be somewhere else right now. With her. In her arms, as she spoilt him rotten. But Ananya had insisted he celebrated with the team first. That she would be waiting for him once he’s done. That this team bonding was important. 

And, as always, she was right. His wise girlfriend always knew the right thing to do.

An hour into the party (or maybe 2 hours, he couldn’t tell anymore), Jude decided he was done being away from her. He called his trusted chauffeur to take him to his happy place. Agnes knew exactly where that was, and helped him walk up the stairs so he doesn’t cause much ruckus and draws attention to himself. The man knew how that would get his boss in trouble with his girlfriend. Jude kept patting the cheeks of the poor man, while Agnes rang the doorbell and waited to hand him over safely (& quickly).

Roma answered the door, and Jude pulled her into a bear hug, almost toppling her backwards. Agnes managed to shut the door behind them and bolted away quickly. 

‘Romaaaaaa - what a funny name.’

‘Hello to you too, Jude.’

‘Sounds like Rome but also like mommmaaa???’ 

Roma struggled to break out of his hold as Jude swayed her from side to side.

‘If you hadn’t been instrumental in my team’s win tonight, I would have punched you for that.’

‘Punched me? With those baby hands? Haha so funny.’

‘ANANYA - come get your boy toy before I smack his pretty face.’

‘Aww you think I’m pretty?’

‘I think you need to let go of me RIGHT NOW. You’re stinking for crying out loud.’

Jude just tightened the hug. Roma was preparing to kick him when Ananya heard the commotion outside and stepped out of her room. In her night robe.

Jude’s grip loosened, and Roma managed to pull away from him, muttering under her breath as to how she needed a shower to get the stink off.

He pouted at the accusation, and walked into his girlfriend’s waiting arms.

‘Am I really stinking?’

He was. She wondered if he had remembered to take a shower at all amidst all the post-match madness.

‘Smells like you.’

His face split into a wide grin.

‘And you like it, yeah?’

‘I like everything about you.’

One could practically count all his 32 teeth with the way he was grinning.

‘You’re so cute. My doll is so cute.’

He sat down on the couch and pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek lovingly, as he buried his face in her chest. Clinging to her. Smelling her hair. Feeling the warmth of her soft body. The giddiness hitting him in loads. 

‘Had fun at the party?’

He nodded enthusiastically. It had been forever since she had seen that kind of joy in his eyes. She kissed his cheek again but he turned around to catch her lips with his, giggling into the kiss. The sound making her heart leap with happiness.

‘I’m so proud of you baby.’

‘Been a while since I made you proud, yeah?’

The note of melancholy in his otherwise cheerful demeanour didn’t go unnoticed. 

‘That’s not true. Your game is more than just scoring goals. You know that, Jude.’

 He nodded again, just not as enthusiastically this time.

‘Heyy look at me. You make me proud every time you walk on to that field and give your all. Your drive and passion is what defines you, not your goals.’

‘Not everyone thinks that way. You’ve seen the memes.’

‘Yeah, well, now you’ve snatched even that joy from them. You’ve shut them up, like I knew you would. It was only a matter of time. I told you.’

‘How were you so sure?’

‘Coz you’re you. And you’re awesome.’

She held his face with both hands and connected their lips again for a comforting kiss. 

‘Naaa you’re just sweet on me.’

‘That too. But you’re still awesome.’

The way he looked at her just then, with that puppy face and big doe eyes, made her heart flutter.

‘Say what you’re thinking. Don’t hold back.’

‘How do you know I…’

She cocked her head to the side, and he knew it was a stupid question. The girl knew him inside out.

‘I was starting to think if they were right. If I was actually a…..a…..’

‘One season wonder?’

She finished his sentence for him. When he kept looking away, she held his face and brought him back to face her.

‘It’s natural to have vulnerabilities and bad thoughts. But they go away much faster if you address them, and not sit on them.’

‘Were you a psychic in another life?’

‘Naaa I just pay attention when it comes to you.’

This time Jude leaned forward and she met him halfway for the kiss, tasting tequila on his tongue as he slipped it in her mouth.

‘Ummm how much did you drink?’

‘Not enough. Drink with me?’

Without waiting for a response, he pulled out a half-filled bottle of tequila from his backpack, took a big sip, grabbed her face and poured it from his mouth into hers.

The deep sudden intimacy of his action sent shivers down her back. She could tell his mood was shifting and they needed to move away from the living room to the privacy of her room. 

Once inside, Jude shut the door with his foot and straightway moved to untie the knot of her robe, but she grabbed his hand mid-way.

He blinked at her in confusion, still wobbly on his feet, while she just batted her eyes at him. 

Ananya looked him up and down - he was a proper meal right now in that brown leather jacket. Eyes deeper & softer in this drunken state, face extra puppy yet extra sexy, lips extra pouty as he tried to fathom her moves.

‘Wanna guess what I’m wearing underneath?’

That got his attention. Loud & clear.

His eyes roamed her form, searching for clues. The robe was hugging her curves tightly so he could tell there weren’t many layers or thick layers underneath. But he could’t make out her tits clearly so there had to be something underneath. He closed his eyes briefly, to visualise her body, and immediately knew the answer.

‘Lingerie.’

Ananya smiled appreciatively, leaning against her desk while crossing her legs, bringing his attention to her half-bare thighs.

‘Correct. Wanted to reward my baby. But but, which one?’

She cocked her head to the side again, letting her hair drop over her shoulder, testing all of Jude’s restraint. 

How was he supposed to guess which one? He had bought many for her, and she had many of her own too.

‘Want a hint?’

‘Yes please.’

That came out far too desperately than what he originally intended.

Ananya lifted her robe a little from one leg, letting him have a peak of the light pink embellished fabric.

And Jude’s mouth hung open, drool coming out of it. He knew exactly which one it was - he had sent a pic to her once, wanting to buy it for her but she had said it was too slutty and barely covered any bits of her.

‘I…this the one I picked? During Euros?’

She smiled again and walked over to him, pressing his lips with her index finger. Jude had to remind himself to breathe.

‘Was saving it for a special occasion.’

‘Mmm-hmmmm.’

‘Are you up for it though?’

‘Huh?’

Jude couldn’t understand what had gotten into her or what language she was speaking tonight. It was burning him to the core though.

‘You know, with all the drinking, you think you can…’

That’s when it hit him. Hard. 

Playtime was over. It was time to show her who the boss was.

Jude took off his jacket and threw it to the side, her eyes following the fabric with longing.

He walked over to her, grabbed her robe, pulled it open & yanked it off of her.

The sight of her in that barely there lingerie nearly made him cum in his pants.

He shoved two fingers in her mouth, driving them all the way in, making her choke on them. Then, he traced her bare skin with the tip of his wet fingers, leaving a trail of fire behind.

Starting to feel weak in the knees, she held his biceps for support. But Jude flipped her around, one arm around her boobs and the other sneaking between her legs. While his mouth made merry on her neck & shoulders.

‘Ju-de.’

Ananya threw her head back in pleasure, as he attacked multiple sensitive spots together.

Jude flipped her around again, moving his mouth to her cleavage, making her mewl.

He knew what she liked. For all her strong independent woman stuff, in bed she liked to be the girl. Wanting him to dominate, to manhandle her. To tell her what to do. And he loved doing that.

‘Good thing tomorrow’s a Sunday, yeah? Doll’s gonna need the rest.’

With that final warning, Jude threw her over his shoulder and on to the bed. He grabbed her leg, pulled her forward, flipped her on her hands and knees and stood behind her, admiring the view.

Given his pressing need, he didn’t even bother to fully take off his clothes. But took great pleasure in doing away with her skimpy lingerie. Lining himself up quickly, he thrusted inside without much preparation, trusting her to be wet & hot for him. And she was. 

Lust & alcohol messed with his head, as did her sultry moans. He bent over her, one hand on her hips keeping them in place and the other spread across her belly possessively.

‘One day….I’m gonna put babies in here.’

She gasped loudly, going numb at his words, which only made him thrust harder till she screamed for him again.

‘You’ll take everything I give you, all of me. Like a good girl, yeah?’

The bed creaked violently under his rapid strokes.

‘SAY IT.’

‘Y-yes.’

He leaned down to bite her shoulder, as his hand mercilessly marauded her boobs & nipples, sliding back to her belly.

‘Even when this is big, I’d still have you like this. Any way I want. Till the very end.’

‘Jude please…’

‘Please what?’

‘I…I can’t…’

‘Yes you can. And you will.’

He had discovered another layer to his passion, which led to another layer of their pleasure. Her sweaty body soon went limp in his arms, and he followed shortly after.

As she rested on her back, sore & spent, Jude laid his head on her belly, kissing it lovingly, and his words rang in her mind. He looked up, locking eyes with her tired ones, a promise deep within them, and her hands fisted in the sheet, knowing he’ll do anything to follow through & to get what he wanted.

.............................................................................

A blurb, as promised :)

As always, your thoughts / comments are most welcome!

Characters from Star Crossed Lovers.

[ragingbookdragon]

Life becomes a bit simpler after her chat with Price; the others definitely notice as she’s not calling Ghost “sir” consistently, and she’s also not avoiding him like the plague. It’s almost upsetting for both Gaz and Soap, mainly because it gave them something to tease Ghost about—it was hilarious watching the way his jaw would clench when they did so. She may not be avoiding Ghost like usual, but she doesn’t go out of her way to directly engage him either. She’s calm, cool, collected when he speaks to her, even smiles at him from time to time, like she used to.

It’s her eyes that unnerves Ghost though.

She knows. And he knows she knows because his skin crawls when he recognizes the look in them. He used to hate it when he saw that. Saw it in every soldier, every superior, every civilian’s gaze when they whispered in the halls about him. But where theirs held pity, hers shine with understanding. With grace. With welcoming.

It makes his stomach churn uncomfortably and weight like lead settle in his bones.

***

Ghost has a routine when he can’t sleep. Usually wakes up at one, drinks a cup of decaffeinated tea, and goes back to sleep by three. No one else is usually awake during those hours except routine security and he trudges into the kitchen, intent to make himself a cup in his tired state, when he stops at the entrance, eyes widening when he sees her sitting there with a steaming cup of tea in front of her, and a bottle of whiskey.

She looks up at the intrusion and smiles tiredly at him. “Hiya LT. Funny meeting you here.”

“It’s one A.M.” he mutters. “Why aren’t you asleep?”

“Can’t sleep,” she replies, looking back at her tea.

Ghost takes a step into the kitchen, goes to the kettle when his eyes fall on the table again, and he realizes she has two cups of tea ready.

“You’re a piss poor liar,” he says under his breath, abandoning the kettle as he pulls out the chair and plops down beside her. “You makin’ hotty toddy’s?”

“Those don’t have tea in them,” she answers, but pours a decent amount of whiskey in his teacup. “But yes, I am.”

He hums, lifts the mask above his upper lip and takes a sip. “Not bad,” he cuts himself off with a cough and she purses her lips, trying not to laugh at him. “Not bad,” he wheezes, eyes watering, but he feels something light in his chest when he sees her smile.

It’s a comfortable silence they find themselves sitting in, drinking tea and staring at the board on the wall across the room in front of them. It’s Soap’s turn on dishes for the week. He’ll probably try to smooch his way out of it—he hates washing dishes. He’ll most likely ask her to switch duties with him; he’ll probably win.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you the other day.”

She blinks and looks over at him, but his eyes are still on the board, moving like he’s reading. “It’s…it’s okay, LT.”

“No,” he answers back immediately. “No, it wasn’t. And I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve acted like an adult and instead I acted like a ten-year-old.”

A laugh passes her lips and he looks over at her curiously; she shakes her head. Price said something like that.” Her eyes meet his. “I’m sorry I’m always up your ass. I know it can be annoying.”

Ghost shrugs. “I’m used to annoying.” He catches the way her expression pinches and he corrects, “You’re not annoying, you’re just…”

“A lot?”

“Will you let me try and dig myself out of this hole, please?”

She smiles and reaches over, patting his leg. “I know what you mean. I’ll try to not be it.”

Ghost blinks and looks at her hand then back at her. “I miss it, y’know? You being…you.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s too quiet around the base. I realize how much your laughter makes us all feel when I don’t hear it.” He sips his tea.

She stirs the spoon in hers. “…Price told me about your family.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

He shrugs. “I figured he’d said something.” He nudges her in the side. “Gave you a talking to, didn’t he?”

“You’re one to talk,” she retorts, and he grins for a moment before he lets out a sigh.

“My old man was a drunk arsehole.”

“LT, you don’t—”

“No, I do,” he interrupts and leans back, staring at the ceiling. “He was a complete cunt. Beat me and my mum and brother. Tommy was a drug addict, started stealin’ from mum.” Something flickers in his expression. Cold. Old hatred. “I beat the shit outta my old man. Kicked him out for good. Got Tommy into rehab.” His tone eases somewhat. “Things got better. Tommy married Beth, had Joseph. Things were good.” Ghost’s eyes take on a sadness, an ache, a wound that has never seemed to really heal, just scab over. “Things were good,” he murmurs.

“And then…”

He inhales and exhales, swallows, tries to speak, until all he can say is, “I don’t like talkin’ ‘bout Mexico.”

She lays her hand on his. “You don’t have to.”

“I got vengeance for the blood that was spilled from my family.” He inhales and exhales again, closing his eyes for a moment. “…I’m claustrophobic. An’ I hate being around people. I hate bein’ in a room where I don’t know the exits. I hate gettin’ new people ‘cause I’m afraid to trust ‘em.” When she gives him a funny look from the last statement, he adds, “The people you know can hurt you the worst.”

“LT, I would never betray you.”

“Don’t ever say you won’t until you’re in a—”

“Simon, I would never betray you,” she repeats firmly, gazing at him intently. “I would rather die than betray any of the people on this team.”

He searches her gaze for some kind of lie before he turns his head back to the wall. “I’m afraid to let more people in ‘cause I’ve already lost so much of myself from it. I don’t know how much more I can take losin’.”

She goes quiet for a moment, thinks on his words, then counters, “I’d rather lose the people I care about than never know what it was like to love them in the first place.” She can see the way the man beneath Ghost aches to wish he could still be that man. “I’d rather lose you as my friend than never know what it was like to know the man beneath the mask.”

“I’m not a good man to know,” he murmurs, and she scoffs lightly.

“That’s your prerogative.”

“It’s the right one.”

She turns in her chair, her knees brushing against the outside of his thigh as she affirms, “Whether or not you think you are, you are my friend, and I am a better person for knowing you.”

“Puffin,” he mutters. “You gotta aim higher, love.”

“Or you can let me in.” She watches the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I’m not going anywhere. You can either accept that and be my friend, or you can reject it and ignore me forever, but I’ll still be here.”

Ghost‘s face pinches and he gripes, “You’re a pain in my arse, you know that, don’t you?” Her smile is bright as he sits straight again and leans against his arm, her head on his shoulder.

After a moment, she whispers, “LT, do you think…do you think in a different life we’d be better people? Happier?”

He tears his gaze from the wall to look down at her and he thinks for a moment, then nods. “Yeah, pet, I think we’d be better.” He shifts his arm, wraps it around the back of her chair and adds, “But I think you and me are doing just fine in this one.”

[stxrshxpxd]

”that’s my girl” part 7

masterlist

pairing: dr house x reader

word count: 1k

warnings: smut

prompt: reader manages to stop house from committing his daily dose of malpractice, and distracts him with something else.

“What the hell are you doing?” I interjected, having followed House into the patient’s room and watched him quickly reach for a syringe. I knew what he was doing in fact. He had just come up with a new theory as to why the poor sedated man in front of us was hurtling towards certain death, and House had to wake him to get answers out of him.

“I feel like a chat. I get lonely too sometimes.”

“He’s just had surgery, you can not wake him!”

With that, I grabbed his arm with both my hands just milliseconds before he could stick the needle into the man’s thigh.

“A little pain isn’t gonna kill him,” House argued and stared me down while I kept clinging on to his tense arm.

“You’re right. My bet is he just turns into a giant asshole,” I took a dig at him and he laughed shortly with dark eyes.

“Clever girl.”

“Stupid man,” I countered, grabbing the syringe from his grip and letting go of his arm. He turned to me fully, his smirk fading.

“You’re not waking him.”

“Last time I checked I call the shots.”

“I miss when you used to refuse to talk to patients,” I sighed, taking small steps back to keep the syringe out of his reach.

“I miss when you were just a pretty postgrad trainee who did what I told her to do,” House fired back with a stupidly charming smile and I gave him an eye roll in return.

“He’ll wake up in an hour.”

“We may not have an hour,” he declared back. I knew he was probably right, but I also knew the team had to work together to pull on House’s reins and keep him somewhat within reasonable ethical territory. And I realised I had to do it using my advantages.

“You may not get to sleep with me again if you wake him,” I continued arguing with a cocky smirk of my own, tilting my head as I blinked up at him. House shut up at that and his cold blue eyes scanned my face.

“But, hey, there’s always a hooker available right?”

He scowled and breathed heavily, refusing to say anything for a little while. I had hit a sensitive spot in him. I knew he was completely hooked on me. I wasn’t sure if it went beyond sex, but it clearly meant enough that he would rather pump the brakes on his obsessive puzzle-solving than lose me.

“God, you’re infuriating!” he said in a jokingly exaggerated groan, to steer away from real emotion.

“And you have no morals,” I smiled back viciously. “And yet I’m crazy about you. Count yourself lucky.”

I hooked my hand into the collar of his t-shirt and pulled him with me further away from the patient’s bed, to visually demonstrate my dominance.

“Makes me happy to know you’re so whipped for me. I can make you do anything I want,” I grinned proudly and House smirked back, his eyes half lidded as they gazed down at me.

“All thanks to that nice ass of yours,” he muttered and his face got even closer to mine as he reached down to clasp his fingers around my butt cheek. His breath fell sharply on my face and I squirmed as he smiled wider, smug about winning back his dominance.

“We are with a patient,” I scolded, if scolding could be done under the breath. I didn’t really want him to remove his hand.

“Good thing he’s unconscious,” he joked in a mumble and I laughed softly into the kiss he pressed against my lips.

“For another hour,” I muttered into the kiss and House took that as a prompt to find something to kill the time, backing me into the patient’s bathroom with his hands squeezing my waist.

It wasn’t long before his fingers had undone the button and zipper of my trousers and delved inside them. I swallowed half of my moan and bit down on my lip while my hands interlocked behind his head.

“Uh-uh,” House muttered, shaking his head. “I wanna hear how good I’m making you feel.”

My breath was already trembling at the feeling of his fingers drawing circles into me, and I nearly shuddered as he mumbled into my ear.

“That’s better,” he whispered with a smile I could just about see out of the corner of my eye as I let my moans spill into his ear.

His other hand was still clinging onto my waist as he held me against the wall. I shoved my hands into the back of his hair and clasped my fingers around his short locks, enjoying his slight groan.

“House,” I whimpered, my legs weakening as his fingers picked up their pace.

“Mm?”

“House,” I whined again and he responded by kissing my neck harshly. The slight sting of my skin trapped between his teeth only added to my pleasure and pushed me over the edge.

“That’s it,” House exhaled encouragingly as my legs nearly gave out, his one hand still keeping me steady by the waist.

My high faded and I regained some composure as I let a few deep breaths pour out of me, onto his shoulder. He stayed close to me for another moment and was in a rare state of silence. No one-liners or clever remarks. I felt a wave of affection come off him. Then he backed away slightly.

“Well, thanks. I’ve got clinic duty,” I shrugged with a playful smile and House protested with a scoff.

“I only came up here to stop my crazy bo-“ I took a beat. “boss, from torturing our patient.”

Patting his chest with one hand and the syringe in my pocket with the other, I turned around and left his quiet smile behind.

[macabr3-barbi3]

pretty wings- Vox/fallen angel!Reader

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55237840

A Good Samaritan- a rare commodity in Hell- helps Vox to his car in the rain. How can he ever repay her?

(There's a second chapter now!)

Tags: wing kink; angel wings; fallen angels; vaginal sex; couch sex; fantasizing; begging; switching? maybe idk; Vox has a lil crush <3

💙❤️💙❤️💙

How it still manages to rain in Hell when there is no real atmosphere, he would never understand. Vox had never really liked the rain, even when he was alive- all it ever meant was canceled plans, systems going down, deep shitty puddles that got his shoes and pants wet and dirty. Like now, standing off the back porch of the restaurant he had just finished a meeting in, waiting for his fucking assistant to answer his goddamn phone and call a driver for him so he could go the fuck home since he couldn’t walk to his car. 

He had been standing under the awning of the restaurant for twenty minutes now. The rain showed no sign of letting up, his meeting partners had all left, and Vox was fucked. He couldn’t go back inside- what kind of fucking loser goes back into an establishment after paying their tab, and for what? To ask for an umbrella? He’d rather die again. And if his assistant didn’t pick up his phone real fucking soon, someone would absolutely be dying today. 

“Excuse me, sir?”

He sighs internally, sets his charm to its max setting and the brightness of his screen up before he turns towards your voice. “So sorry, doll, I’m afraid I’m all out of time for photo ops today!” 

You raise an eyebrow, and he lets his gaze travel over your form. You looked relatively normal for a demon, your face still pretty human besides the two horns that came off your skull. Your eyes were wide and yellow, a heavy coat draped over your shoulders as you looked at him- not that much shorter, he noted, which was a nice change of pace from talking to Velvette all the time and having to crane basically in half to meet her eyes.

“That’s… not what I was going to ask.” 

He resists the urge to roll his eyes, and can feel his screen glitch on his smile as he watches you. “An interview then? Look, you can contact my people but I am really not in the-”

“What I was going to ask,” you interrupt him, and Vox fights down the wave of annoyance at having been cut off, “was if you needed help.”

His face screws up and he means to immediately deny. “Absolutely not. I’m perfectly fine-”

“Are you?”

And that was going to get annoying fast if you kept doing that, he thought to himself.

“You’ve been standing out here for close to half an hour and glaring at your phone. I don’t think its crazy to assume that you need some assistance with something having to do with the rain.” You look him over, much the same way that he had done to you. “I would imagine that the whole ‘TV head’ thing you have going on doesn’t mix well with precipitation.”

Well, you had him there. “You’re not wrong,” he admits testily. “But my assistant will be sending someone to drive me soon. I’ll be fine.” He flashes you a winning smile.

“I mean, I guess you could wait for your assistant to answer your calls- doesn’t seem like you’re having much luck with reaching them.” You cross your arms over your chest, and- nope, Vox was not going to stand out here in the rain and ogle some random sinner’s tits. He redirects his gaze. “Or you could let me either walk you to your car or walk with you to wherever you’re going.”

He throws you a side eye and sighs heavily, letting his head drop back before rolling an eye down to look at you. “You don’t look like you have an umbrella,” he says, crossing his arms now as well. “How exactly are we getting to my car?”

You give him a smile that shorts a fuse in his head for a moment, wide and earnest and pretty. “Who needs an umbrella?” You shrug one of your shoulders and the coat you’re wearing starts to slide off your shoulders. Vox makes a move to stop the slide like a gentleman, keep the coat covering your body and stop it from slipping into a puddle, when it rises up off your back and comes to cover the both of you. He sees black feathers interspersed with white spots as the bottom comes into view, and he realizes it wasn’t a coat at all.

You had wings. Big, powerful wings by the look of it- the part connected to your back didn’t shake under the weight of the limb being extended over your heads. He stared at them; he knew he was staring, that you might think it was strange, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. It was mesmerizing. Thrilling.

He feels a spark of arousal shoot through him at the sight of them, and his plans change for the night. You’re pretty, and the curves of your body are appealing, but the wings. He wants to explore them. Wants to tease you with your own feathers. To run his fingers over them and watch you struggle to maintain this composure you have. He’s confident in his ability to get you home with him- maybe offer a drink as thanks for your help or something. 

“Sure, I guess you can walk me to my car,” he says, feigning an air of disinterest despite the twitch in his cock. “It’s not every day one meets a sinner so giving- I might as well take advantage!” He sees the flinch that shoots across your face, making your wing tremble, but you straighten up and stiffen your shoulders, gesturing out to the street being beaten by the rain.

“Lead the way.”

He steps out from under the awning and is delighted when your wing does, in fact, shelter the both of you from the weather. You bring the second wing out to block any rain from blowing under the first with the wind, and Vox is fucking obsessed with the subtle muscle of them, the careful strength in the way that you adjust the angle of them to keep him dry. It seems subconscious, the movement of them, as Vox gave you directions to where he had parked earlier when the sky was dry and he had thought he could enjoy a nice walk after his meeting. 

A piece of paper, litter off the ground, comes flying under the shelter you were providing him aiming right for his screen. He brings up a hand to block it- wet paper wouldn’t do any real damage but it was still annoying- when the tip of the wing over your head dips down slightly, catches it with a corner, and flings it off to the side. A drop of water manages to fly off the thing and splatter on his screen. You give him a smile, apology on your lips at being unable to prevent the attack. You turn back to the cars in front of you, looking for the electric blue of his vehicle that he had described to you.

Vox wants you spread out in his bed, he decides. Your wings splayed out behind you in whatever position he decided to take you- he would work with anything. He could trace his fingers over the delicate bones with you on your back as he drilled into you; grab a fistful of feathers while he fucks you from behind, use that leverage to sink his cock into you as far as he could manage; let you unfurl them from your back while you ride him so they cover you both like a blanket, seal yourselves off from the rest of the world and let the only light you see be his screen in the darkness of it.

“Sir?” 

He blinks hard a couple times and realizes that you’ve reached his car, and you’re standing there in the rain illuminated by the few streetlights that reach this back corner. Your eyebrow is cocked at him in amusement, wings still suspended over him. “I think walking you over here defeats the purpose if you don’t actually get in the car.”

“Right, right!” He touches a claw to the vehicle and it roars to life as he grabs the handle and maneuvers himself inside of it. He looks up at you now, the positions reversed, and his breath catches in his throat, cock throbbing. You’re magnificent like this, wings still hanging above you and slightly over the car to make sure no moisture can reach him. The rest of your body is relaxed but he can see it in his head, the way that you would look tense with pleasure, eyes clenched shut and mouth hanging open. 

You give him a smile. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

The vague chagrin that shoots through him does nothing to quell the erection rapidly growing in his pants. “I was going to say thank you,” he insists, and the way you laugh has him wanting to inject the sound into his fucking veins. “Can I- can I give you a ride home? You know, as thanks for walking me over here, making sure I don’t get waterlogged.”

You look like you’re going to refuse at first but then you shrug. “Sure. It’s not too far, if you really don’t mind.”

Fuck yes! The processors in his head are whirring, wondering how best to convince you to come back to his place on the way to yours. Or fuck, maybe he could just join you at your place. He wasn’t picky about where the fucking happened, as long as it did. He was desperate for it, to have you gasping for him while he plucked at your pretty wings with his cock nestled deep inside your pussy.

The passenger door opens and you enter the car with your knees on the leather seat. He questions it for only a moment before you lean back and shake your wings viciously outside the vehicle, dispersing as much of the water as you can before you sit normally in the seat. You buckle up and give him a sweet smile, pointing a slender finger to the other side of the parking lot where the exit is.

He can’t remember being so fucking turned on before as he puts some music on and starts driving. Sure, he had his fun with Val and sometimes some of his actors between scenes and shit, the occasional fangirl or one of Velvette’s models but just being aroused by the presence of someone? Who wasn’t actively trying to seduce him? Was just sitting in the passenger seat of his car while he drove her home?

It was new, and it was exciting, and God, those fucking wings…

They’re tucked delicately behind you, the black of your feathers contrasting nicely with the deep red leather of his seats. He’d never seen a demon with wings like these before- they were usually attached to the arms of them or draped off the back. More for decoration than anything else; even Val’s wings weren’t so prehensile and flexible, he thought, thinking about the way the tip had dipped down to sling that piece of paper away from him.

“So, your wings-”

“We’re here,” you say with a grin, the car not even having left the parking lot.

“What? I- here? ” He does stop the vehicle before looking over at you, craning his neck forward to look at a building that sat kitty corner to the restaurant he had his meeting in.

“I told you it wasn’t far.” He can hear the giggle in your voice. “How else do you think I saw you standing out here the whole time? I could see the glow of your screen from my window. Figured I would offer a hand since you didn’t look like you were making much progress.”

He stares at you. He hadn’t had time to try to convince you to spend more time with him- to convince you to let him get his hands on those feathers.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You’re reaching for the door handle when he blurts out, “wait!”

And thank fuck, you do. You look back at him with an eyebrow raised but your hand stops reaching. He clears his throat, fixes you with what he hopes is a suave look. “Let me thank you,” he says. “We can go grab a drink at my place- or I can buy you dinner, if you’d rather do that. Order some takeout if you want to stay home.” Smile wide, he waits for you to respond.

Bells and whistles ring in his head as you buckle back up. “I’m down on one condition.”

“Name it, doll,” is his immediate response, and he’s only a little embarrassed at the speed with which he spoke. “Really, I want to give you a proper show of gratitude- there’s no way this counts. Whatever you want.”

A crooked little smile graces your face. “Can I get your name?”

He can almost feel the error message crawl across the bottom of his screen; he doesn’t know what it says but he watches your eyes follow the scrawl of words, the real reason he knew it was there. “Vox,” he says, holding a hand out for you to shake. “Pleasure to meet you.” He leaves off what is obvious to anyone else- Overlord of Hell, Media Mastermind, TV demon on the fast track to ruling Pentagram city. If you didn’t already know these things then you had to be new- that explained the blatant disrespect earlier, interrupting him, dismissing his words. If you didn’t know he wouldn’t tell you yet. He would win you over and get you onto a horizontal surface without his reputation; preferably with his sharp tongue, strong fingers and thick cock if he had a choice in the matter.

“Vox.” You repeat his name, and it sounds so sweet and innocent that he can’t wait for you to scream it out in ecstasy. You give him your name in return as he pulls out of the parking lot and heads towards Vee Tower.

The silence is comfortable on the relatively short drive, Vox pulling the car into the basement garage of Vee Tower and quietly relishing in the fascinated expression on your face when someone comes to grab the keys to park his car as he leads you to the elevator. “You’re some kind of hotshot, huh?” You ask, lashes fluttering at him in a way that makes his knees weak.

“Something like that, doll,” he says, smile wide while you take it all in. Even just the garage is sophisticated and impressive, and he wishes he could see it through your eyes. He notices your raised eyebrows at the push of the button for the penthouse, but you don’t say anything. “So, your wings- are you some kind of bird?”

A tight smile. “Something like that, doll,” you parrot back to him. “That’s more of a second date question, I think.”

Second date. Was this your first date? Fuck, he should have called his assistant ahead of time and made him get something prepared fresh- gotten some fucking good champagne in- swapped out his comfortable sheets for the silk ones that his bed partners were nuts for even if he didn’t really care for them. But his assistant was fucking useless tonight, evidenced by the fact of your being here in the first place since he couldn’t get a car to fetch him.

Vox might not have met you if he had answered the phone though- so maybe he would let it slide.

He leads you out of the elevator into his home, the lights of Pentagram City casting a lovely red glow over your body. “Nice view.” You stand by it, the white tips of your wings illuminated where the light shone through. He comes to stand beside you in front of the couch, and you give him a pretty smile. “I do have a question though.”

“What’s that?” He has his phone out, firing off one last text to his assistant - "If I don’t hear back from you in the next ten minutes I’m swapping your contract for one of Val’s. FUCKING ANSWER ME” should get his message across- and missing the narrowing of your eyes when you turn back to face him.

“Do you know that you aren’t subtle?” You hook an ankle around the back of his leg and yank, sending him toppling backwards into the couch, his phone hitting the cushion next to you. He has only a brief moment to flounder, wonder what the fuck was happening, before you were straddling his lap, knees on either sides of his thighs and your skirt pulled taut between your legs. “See, I really couldn’t tell if you thought you were. I figured I would ask.”

“What?” He can’t find the power to do anything but watch with his eyes wide while you slide your hands down his chest and settle into his space, the warmth of your cunt palpable through his trousers where you rest against his rapidly hardening prick. “What do you-”

“Ah, you don’t know. Cute.” The word makes him twitch, and when he opens his mouth to protest what comes out instead is a choked off whine as you roll your hips into him. “I like my men a little cute- when they think they’re being so suave and sexy but all they can think about is getting their hands on my body. Or my wings, in this case.” As you mention them you let them puff up a little behind you, spread out ever so slightly so Vox could get a better look. His breath catches- silhouetted by the glow of the city behind you, you were breathtaking. 

“What gave me away, doll?” He could deny, but what was the point in that? The night was already progressing the way that he wanted. You were perhaps a little more forward than he was expecting, but he could work with that. As long as it ended with your pussy swallowing up his cock he would be a happy demon.

You laughed, the sound like a bell in the silence of his place as he settles his hands on your hips. “Besides the blatant ogling of them when I first brought them out and the whole way across the parking lot, you mean? You had an error message in the car running across your screen just here-” You lean down and lick across the lower right corner of his face. “You wanna know what it said?”

“Enlighten me.” He’s amazed he can still get a word out with the blood rushing to his cock, hard length pressed against you where you’re seated on his lap.

“‘Pretty wings,’ it said.” Your fingers come down to undo his belt, whipping it from the loops of his pants. Vox nearly chokes on his tongue when you pull his cock out, already hard and leaking in your hand as you tighten your grip. “Suuuper cute. Over and over.” You lift your hips a bit, shoving your skirt up near your hips and hovering over his length. “I wanna hear it instead of reading it though- can you say it for me, pretty boy?”

You skim his tip through the slickness between your legs, and his brain short circuits when he realizes that you haven’t been wearing panties. “Fuck me,” he manages to laugh out. “Was this your plan the whole time? Play the good Samaritan to get me home so you could ride my cock?”

You shake your head and let yourself sink down the slightest bit, a breathy moan leaving your throat as his head is swallowed by your tight, wet heat. “Not initially. I really was just trying to be a nice person.” You throw him a wink, pulling away when he tries to thrust up and not allowing him to get any deeper inside of you. “Come on now- give me what I want and I’ll give you what you want.”

Fuck, if that doesn’t shoot straight to his prick. “Pretty wings,” he murmurs, letting one of his hands leave your hip to brush against the soft feathers. “They’re beautiful. Strong. Fuckin’ perfect.” With each word you slide down further until you’re fully seated on his cock. “I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“That’s it, baby,” you say, and shift your hips forward to get him where you want him. “You were thinking about this, yeah?” With a downward grind you let your wings unfurl completely, filling his vision with a flash of feathers that blocks the light of the city from reaching him. A ripple runs through them, the tremor rolling all the way from top to tip and the feeling is imitated around his cock, your tight walls rippling.

He doesn’t whine, thank you very much. But a broken drawn out sound does escape his mouth, screen thrown back over the back of the couch. He can’t bare to fucking look at you with how perfect the moment is, the sight and sound and sensation of you stuffed with his cock better than he could have imagined. “I wanna touch them,” he says, but when he reaches his fingers out you wrap your hands around his wrists, surprising strength in your redirection of his palms to your chest.

“Can we say ‘please’, pretty boy?” You let your wings flutter, a gust of wind blowing across his face from the movement, moaning when his prick hits a soft spot inside you that makes you gush around his length. “I’ll let you touch them if you ask nicely.”

His pride fights him for a moment- this wasn’t exactly how it was supposed to go, with him at your mercy instead of the other way around. He had wanted you under him, wings spread across his mattress and feathers fisted in his hands while he fucked you.

“I’ll give you a demonstration of what I’m looking for,” you offer, and then your lashes are fluttering, eyes rolling back into your head and a whine falling forth from your mouth. “Oh fuck, Vox , baby, please.”

Pride flies out the window in favor of the feeling of your cunt clenching around his cock. “Please, sweetheart,” he says, and he lets his clawed thumbs roll over the pebbles of your nipples where you hold him against your chest. “Let me touch them? I’ll be real gentle with you, baby.”

You pick up the pace, releasing his hands and bringing your wings forward, bordering him on either side so all he can see is you. “That’s what I like to hear,” you whisper with a grin, bracing your hands on his shoulders and properly riding him now, the slick sound of your body taking him in echoing in the emptiness of his living room.

He lifts his trembling palms from your chest and brushes the tips of his claws along the bottoms of your wings, feathers gliding softly over his digits- the sensation makes you moan, another gentle ripple running through them. He fists his hands in them, pulling lightly like he might at someone’s hair, and your wet heat pulses around him, pussy tight like you mean to keep him inside of you forever. He wants that- wants to stay buried where he currently is until Hell falls to pieces around you.

His phone rings on the couch beside him, the call taking over his screen moments later. Vox doesn’t want to let go of your wings, having just gotten his hands on them- with a shake of his head the call is dismissed, only to immediately come back and take over his face again. “God fucking-”

You lift a hand from his shoulder and answer the call, a right swipe and a wicked smile leading to Vox’s assistant’s voice filling the space between you and him. “-and I am SO. SORRY. Sir I swear, I have never had my phone on silent like this before-” He continues his rant, and Vox struggles to remember why he was even calling right now- he was fucking busy, damn it, what the fuck.

“-understand that you’re upset, but please, sir, I’ll do better, just don’t send me to Valentino-”

“Better answer him,” you whisper to Vox, dragging your tongue up the side of his screen, hips grinding down. “If I cum before the call ends I’ll leave.”

Graceful fingers slide down your body to rub at your own clit, moaning prettily into the side of his face while his assistant rambled in his ear. Vox was going to fucking combust.

“Just- fuck, man, shut up. It’s fine.” You chuckle into his shirt, deft fingers unbuttoning it and raking your claws down his chest. “ Jesus fuck, I- no, not you. It’s fine. We’ll talk in the morning-”

“But sir if you still need a ride-”

“I fucking found a ride, alright,” he mutters darkly, tightening his grip on your wings in one hand and letting the other trail firmly along the top of it, all the way down to the tip. The feathers seem to shiver in his grasp and your cunt clenches around him, threatens to pull him over the edge with how close you are. “Call me in the morning. Now f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡c̨̨̣̮̝̈́̔ͯ̀͂k̼̼̞̦̞̼̔ o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞f̰̰̯͕͊̃̊͞͞͞. ”

Voice files corrupted, he disconnects the call, reaches his hands around your back to finger at the base of your wings, the skin there taut and sensitive if the keening groan you let off into his shirt is anything to go by. “Fuck me, you feel divine,” he mutters, and you choke off a chuckle at the word. “Let me feel you, angel, cum on my cock.”

“N- naughty men that don’t say please don’t get to make demands,” you say, and he could tease you, could pull your hand away from your clit and make you hover right on the edge of release. But he was a selfish man, and could admit that he wanted the feeling of you coming undone around him more than he wanted to be right.

“Please, baby, please,” he begs, and you hiss through your teeth at the sound of his pleading, sweet and low, the slightest hint of static to his voice. “God, fucking d̶̵̯̯̼̘ͨ̓o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟t͖͖̠̬͛, please, l- let me w̡̻̻̣͚̒̀ͅo͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ṛ̣̬̫̍͌ͩ͟s̨̞̞̰͎͎̪̩͕̈́̀ͯ̍ͧͅh̨͚͚͖ͯ̒̄͗͞i̧̻̻͉̜͑ͪ̾͟p͔͔͚͉̬��ͩ̾͗ y͙͙̪̰ͫ͌́o͙͙̙̘̙ͤͫ͞ụ̴̴̾̀͟͡-”

““Oh fuck, Vox, baby, please-” Less sarcastic this time despite the half formed smile on your face, and the teasing lilt to it is ruined by the clenching of your eyes as you clamp down on his prick and cum, fingers of the hand not frantically rubbing at your clit digging into his skin while you shudder and shake in the embrace of his arms. 

He follows you moments later, the tension he had felt since meeting you outside the restaurant finally cresting and crashing, and he spends himself inside of the slick grip of your cunt, still riding him with the effort you can spare after the force of your orgasm before eventually slowing. You take your fingers from your clit, circle them around the base of his cock and collect some of your combined releases before bringing them up to his mouth, pushing inside and letting Vox’s tongue wrap around the length of them.

Fuck. You would be the death of him, he was sure.

“Not bad,” you mutter once you’ve collapsed bonelessly against him. “Might need a couple more rounds to really show you the ropes though- really get it through your screen here who is in charge.”

“That’s not you, doll.” Vox laughs, and you bring your wings up to surround the two of you like a fort, the glow of his screen illuminating your face and the teasing smile you wear.

“I guess I could be willing to share,” you agree, leaning forward far enough to press a teasing kiss to the plastic of his face. “We can talk about it tomorrow after you reassure your little assistant that you’re not going to murder him.”

“Still thinking about it,” he muses, “but we’ll see.” He runs his fingers again along the bottom of your wings, delights in your shiver, and wishes the rain would never stop.

[lucyandthepen]

last young renegade | jjh

summary: your valentine’s day plans with jaehyun may have gone down the drain just a little. (okay — a lot.)

pairing: jaehyun x reader verse: canon, idol!verse rating: t warnings&tags: reader & jaehyun are in an established relationship, quite frankly there is nothing too out of the ordinary in this fic which is a shocker, it’s a rewritten fic so pls excuse any errors I may not have caught! word count: 5.02k

a/n: happy 2024 friends and family !!!!!! and advanced happy birthday to the man who created valentine’s day, he who is perhaps my first love in nct, jaehyun! this is actually just a fic I’ve been hoping to re-write a bit from before, and since it’s valentine’s themed, what better time to post it!! Enjoy enjoy, and may this year bring more fun, laughs, love (and debauchery) to this blog!

Yᴏᴜ sᴀɪᴅ ʏᴏᴜ'ʀᴇ sɪᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛɪʀᴇᴅ ᴏғ ɪᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ɴᴇᴇᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ, ɴɪɢʜᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅᴀʏ.

♡ jaehyunnie ♡ I know I said birthday dinner but practice is running so late ㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie ♡ Can we meet after? I’m sorry ㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠㅠ How about I call you when we’re done? Maybe 11:30?

At times like this, you often wonder if it’s all worth it.  

You know thinking that way is counterproductive, not to mention a little unfair. You knew exactly what to expect, getting into an under-wraps relationship with an idol, and so far, it’s lived up to most of your assumptions, and then some. It doesn’t help that Jaehyun, even just by name, tends to attract an unbelievable amount of attention. You know you can’t blame him; it’s not like he wants to be high on the radar every time, either. For some reason, though, you seem to be looking for something or someone to blame, which you also know is a dead end. You have no one to pin the blame onto apart from yourself by frequently generating doubts that keep your mind running around in circles.  

It’s not even the sneaking around that gets tiring; it’s the waiting — waiting on calls, waiting on free time, waiting on a good opportunity to do something that doesn’t involve him suddenly getting pulled out to attend to one of many of his celebrity responsibilities. Over the last few years that you’ve dated, NCT has only ever gotten more popular; with that popularity came the fact that the public eye was trained on them, focusing on every microscopic detail of their lives. Jaehyun hates that more than anything, which is why he’s given up on trying to avoid it by practically escaping it altogether, locking himself up in the dorm with you when he has his precious few days off. 

While it’s true that you definitely don’t miss having to play espionage when going out for a cup of coffee with him, you’ve also managed to memorize every single inch of Jaehyun’s room, which isn’t good for your mentality, you’re pretty sure. You have to keep reminding him to open the window whenever the both of you are in there, because all you do is stay in and watch English movies without subtitles to see who can understand the most without asking questions (obviously, he always wins) while eating food he runs up and down the stairs to get every other hour. And while him trying to imitate the British accents on these shows is genuinely funny, you’re starting to suspect even he’s starting to get tired of watching Harry Potter over and over again. Twenty hours sounds like a long time unless you spend every twenty-hour period you have together marathoning the exact same films. Much to both of your disappointment, your suggestion to watch it totally out of order did not make it cooler.

Still, you suppose it’s not all bad. Jaehyun also taught you how to play Fortnite on a couple of his days off back to back, and while you hadn’t been as good a player as you both had hoped, he’d still patiently waited for you every time you got lost on the map. He’d even given you his account’s password with the sentiment that this was him ‘taking things to the next level with you,’ and you get to log into his account and play whenever you want; he doesn’t even get mad when you’ve wasted all the stuff he’s farmed on your subpar gaming skills. And, well, the bigger picture was that you loved him. Based on how much effort he put into the relationship, plus the bonus of his trust in you when it came to his Fortnite account, you could at least be confident in that he returned the sentiment.  

Except, sometimes, you still wonder if it would be easier for the both of you if he flew solo and didn’t have a girlfriend that tanked all of his player’s ammo and health kits and generally made a fool out of his cute little avatar while he was out breaking his back onstage.  

You aren’t sure if Jaehyun’s been noticing the turmoil in you; you’re not that good at hiding how you feel, anyway, but if he has, he hasn’t said anything thus far. You do observe how much more he texts you when he has free time, which makes you feel doubly bad, because you know that he’s spending precious minutes he could be resting with on talking to you instead, which isn’t the best trade-off for someone who’s constantly busy — and thereby constantly tired — like him.  

♡ jaehyunnie♡ ___________ I’m going to practice again, okay? Wait for my call ㅠㅠ You I’ll wait for your call ♡ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ I love you ㅠㅠㅠㅠ ♡ jaehyunnie♡ You love me too — a lot, right? I’ll keep my phone now, but I’ll make sure to check that you said so. ㅋㅋㅋ You Right! ㅎ I love you a lot! ♡

When the clock hits 12:01, and your phone is silent, your mind starts working on overtime again. It’s only when the special ringtone you’ve set for him comes to life at half-past midnight that you break your train of thought and put on your socks so you can meet Jaehyun at your front door.  

You’ve made a rule — sort of like a deal — between the two of you that apologies aren’t necessary when work holds you up. You’ve cashed in on that deal a couple of times, but you’re both aware that it’s more for Jaehyun’s sake than anything else, and he keeps to his word on that much when you open the door and duck into his car. All he does is smile at you, and you smile back, and for the rest of the car ride, everything seems okay.  

He always asks you about your day — unfailingly, at any chance he can. It’s never an off-handed question, either; Jaehyun takes great pride in his memory, and the sweetest thing about him is that he’s dedicated a good deal of it to knowing almost everything about you. Right now is no different. He asks you about your team manager, what you had for lunch; he grills you on if you took your vitamins today and if you got to break in the new shoes you bought online — the ones you’d been pining over for the last three months. He even asks you about the guy from the neighboring department who keeps asking you out for after-work drinks.  

“He wanted to go to Hongdae tonight,” you tell him as he slows for a red light. “There’s some new pub of his friend’s doing a soft opening there tonight.”  

“You could have gone.” He keeps his eyes on the road. “I wouldn’t have minded.”  

“I didn’t want to.”

“Good.” He glances at you, a grin slowly spreading on his lips. “Because I lied. I might have minded a little. Or, you know, a lot.”  

“Don’t tell me after all these years, you’ve turned into the kind of boyfriend that doesn’t let his girlfriend go out without him.”

“That’s impossible for me, and you know that,” he chuckles. “You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. Just not with that guy from the other department.”

“Don’t worry.” You tinker with the little charm dangling on your phone — half of a flat, metal heart dangling from a gold chain that Jaehyun had given you two years back on your birthday. He keeps the other half, but since he can’t freely attach it to any of his belongings, he keeps it wedged between the back of his phone and its case. You like watching him change the backing because he does it so carefully, like he’s worried the other half of the heart is going to break if he rips off the case willy nilly. “I told him my boyfriend and I were going out on a date tonight, so he backed off. Although he did wonder why I keep talking about a boyfriend he’s never seen.”

“And? What did you say?”

“I said it was none of his damn business.”  

Jaehyun laughs loudly, and you go along with him, but you don’t miss how tired he looks when he sobers down, the green light illuminating all the shadows on his face as he steps on the gas again.

Nothing good is open this late at night — that is, nothing you haven’t seen before. You hadn’t even expected to go out at all, but since it was the day before Valentine’s Day as well as his birthday (or it would have been, if you hadn’t waited until midnight), Jaehyun had wanted to do something special without having to run into a huge crowd of couples on the day itself. Your only option is this from-out-of-town carnival that’s set up in tents and even has a medium-sized ferris wheel by the edge of the metal barricade. The parking lot is practically empty when Jaehyun pulls into a slot; you joke that he should break one rule and park in two slots, which he smugly replies to by saying he couldn’t park badly even if he tried.  

He tucks your hair back behind your ears as he loops the strings of a face mask around them, using another one for himself. Between that and the brim of his cap, you can barely see his eyes. The only knowledge that you have that you’re walking next to the man you love is that he takes your hand in his, slender fingers finding their way between yours.  

The carnival is half-closed when you get to the middle of it; there are still a few stragglers, but half the kiosks have their lights off already. There’s a woman dressed in flashy clothes standing on a patch of dead grass a few feet away, and she’s holding a hoop that a ginger cat is jumping through. Jaehyun steers you to them, and you stand there for a good five minute watching the cat roll on the ground and stand on its hind legs, but you can tell it’s been going it at for most of the day because at one point, it just ignores the lady, opting to weave its way between Jaehyun’s and your legs instead. You do have a pretty good time when he picks it up and cradles it in his arms so you can pet it for a second, but it just hisses when its owner approaches and jumps out of his hold, disappearing behind a row of trash bins.  

Jaehyun doesn’t have anything in his wallet apart from his credit cards and 50,000 won, and the coin machine operator says he only has enough coins left to break down 5,000 won for the games, so you end up having to jog back to his car so you can fish out some coins from inside his glove compartment. You come up with a grand total of 1,500 won, and you have to sheepishly go back to the coin machine operator to change four 100 coins and a couple of 50s just to get the last 500. Jaehyun tells you to hold onto the three coins so he doesn’t run off with them entirely and leave you destitute.  

You learn you can only do three things at most — you dedicate 500 won for the Ferris wheel entry tickets, which leaves you with 500 won each. The both of you agree on choosing one kiosk to play in, and with only about five left that are open, you don’t really have that many options. You end up dragging Jaehyun over to a stall with a pond filled with those magnetic toy fish, but 500 won only gets you one fishing rod. Since it’s your choice, Jaehyun lets you play, but you feel kind of stupid doing it on your own with him just watching you. In the end, he decides to stand behind you, his arms around your waist like he thinks closer contact isn’t even more distracting. You do manage to fish out 10 fish and win a small bear on a keychain. It doesn’t even pass through your hands as Jaehyun takes it from the stall operator immediately. 

“That’s mine!” You whine, reaching out in vain to take it from him; he just holds it high over his head. His eyes are twinkling under the shadow his cap casts over his face. “I worked hard for that.”  

“Let me keep this one,” he mimics the pleading lilt in your voice. “I’ll put it on my bag.”

“You know you can’t! Give it back.”

“I’ll win you a bigger one,” he promises. “Let me keep this one. It’s cute. It reminds me of you. I’ll kiss it goodnight before I sleep.” He starts to laugh softly. “And then you’ll feel this weird spirit kissing you at like two in the morning, and you’ll know it’s me.”  

Your arms aren’t long enough to retrieve it, and you don’t really want to, so you settle with twisting his ear. He takes it in stride even if he over-acts, making pained noises while leading you to the kiosk he wants to go to. It’s a shooting range stall, and he pays his own precious 500 won for a dart gun. He’s barely paying attention when the guy starts explaining how many points are assigned to each balloon color, more concerned with talking to the bear keychain in his hand and pretending like he’s cooing at you. You have to hit him across the shoulder to get him to focus.  

“You need to start picking out what prize you want,” he tells you — the actual you, not the animal keychain version — as he lifts the dart gun.  

“I’ll wait for you to finish first.”  

“No way.” He tilts his head, closing one eye to steady his line of sight. “Pick already. Or just go for the biggest one.”

“You know that Fortnite and dart guns aren’t the same thing, right?”  

“Yeah, but I’m well-motivated.” He grins at you, one eye still shut. He looks like a baby pirate. “Go ahead. Pick the biggest one.”

“Why don’t you just shoot, and we’ll see.”  

“Pick it,” he insists. “Tell me you have faith in me. Tell me you love me.”

“Okay, I love you,” you agree. “But I have no faith in you when it comes to this.”  

“One out of two is fine,” he concedes, taking aim.  

All three of you, including the stall operator, let out a disappointed groan when he misses his first shot. His comes with a sheepish laugh as he reloads, suddenly telling you to pick the second biggest prize instead. You can’t even watch him miss over and over, so you pretend to be interested in a bunch of teenage boys playing a game of cups one stall over, trying not to giggle when you hear him get increasingly more frustrated at himself. When you turn back around, you notice he’s holding two small pieces of gummy candy, offering one to you like a kindergartener. He helps you tug your face mask down so you can eat it.  

There’s a food stall nearby that, thankfully, accepts credit and debit; Jaehyun fishes out his card to get you a corndog — only one because he’s watching his weight for the upcoming concert, apparently. This is information you hate hearing but have no say in, and he knows this; you know he does because he says ‘don’t worry about me’ totally out of the blue, like five minutes after the conversation ceases to be relevant.  

His phone starts ringing when the food comes out, and he takes a tiny bite of it — more bread than hotdog — before he answers. You know it’s Taeyong by the way he answers.  

“Hyung, sorry — can we talk later? I’m out with ____________.”  

Taeyong says something loud but indiscernible on the other end. You piece together that it’s about tomorrow’s schedule when Jaehyun speaks again.

“I know. I’ll be home in a bit; don’t worry about it. I haven’t forgotten.”  

There’s more garbled speech on the other line; Jaehyun gestures for you to keep eating, and you do, but you more concerned with the morphing expressions on his face than you are with the act of chewing. He’s making noncommittal noises in response to what seem to be commands and reminders. You’re pretty much done with the corndog by the time he says ‘Okay, hyung. Hyung — I’ll see you later, okay?’

“Taeyong hyung says hi,” he tells you once he’s hung up the phone. “He says you still need to give back that book you borrowed from him last year.”  

“Oh yeah,” you finish off the last of the food. “I’ll drop it off within the week.”  

“Don’t worry about it. He doesn’t actually mean it.”  

Jaehyun watches you snap the stick in half and toss it in the trash bag.  

“We can go home,” you say finally. His eyebrows shoot up. “You’re busy tomorrow. I forgot.”

“I didn’t forget, and it’s fine.”  

“It’s almost two in the morning.” You check your phone to verify. “You probably have to be up in a few hours. You need to sleep, or you’ll die, Jaehyun. I’m too young to be a grieving widow.”

“Let’s at least ride the Ferris wheel,” he suggests. Before you can protest, he tugs you towards the rickety contraption, digging the 500 won out of your pocket and handing it to the bemused operator. He lets you choose what carriage you want because literally no one is on it anymore, and Jaehyun asks for the best carriage. You’re not sure how it differs from the rest, but he makes a show out of guiding you into it, and you don’t miss the corny ‘my lady,’ he mutters under his breath.   

It’s small, clearly meant for either a tiny group of children or couples who want to be as close together as possible. It’s also not air-conditioned, and only one of the windows is open, so you end up sticking to Jaehyun’s arm on the way up. The view is still great, though, and you feel his hand settle on your knee as the carriage makes it slow ascent.  

The ride up is quiet, and you press your face as close to the glass of the carriage as you dare, but Jaehyun doesn’t move an inch. His hand is still heavy on your thigh, but it doesn’t do anything but lay there. When you’re close to the top, you’re hit with the urge to do something romantic — kiss, maybe, tell him happy birthday, or say ‘I love you’ to him in the most sickening way possible — but when you turn to look at him, you have to hold your tongue.

Jaehyun is asleep, leaning against the corner of the carriage, head tilted down a little. His shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and he’s pulled down his face mask a little so he can breathe better; his lips are slightly parted by the slackening of his jaw. His left hand is shoved in his pocket, like he’d passed out halfway through reaching for something in there.  

He doesn’t wake even when you move slightly so you can lean back next to him, rocking the carriage a little — not even when you reach up and adjust his head so he can rest on your shoulder. He breathes deeply, evenly, and you wonder if his ear against your shoulder allows him to hear your heart plummet unfairly to the bottom of your stomach.  

You have to shake him to rouse him when the ride comes to an end; when he opens his eyes and realizes what happened, he looks mortified. Instinctively, he opens his mouth, but you fling the carriage door open and step out before he can apologize.

You have a deal, and he knows what he shouldn’t be doing.

His grip on your hand is much tighter as you walk back to the parking lot, and he doesn’t let go, even on the road. The trip back is quieter, maybe because it’s late, or maybe because there are a ton of things the both of you want to say but can’t.  

He slows down when he gets to your street, but when he stops in front of your building, he doesn’t immediately unlock the doors to let you out. Instead, he turns to you, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Can you…” he clears his throat because his voice cracks a little on the first attempt. “Can you come back with me? To the dorm?”  

“I have work tomorrow, Jaehyun.”  

“It’s still at eleven, isn’t it? I can bring you home before that. You still have some stuff in my room. You can get ready there.”

“Won’t you be too busy?”  

“Just—” he sighs softly. “Can you? Please?”  

You don’t know how to say no to Jaehyun, and tonight isn’t a night you’re willing to try. It’s why fifteen minutes later, you’re walking through the front door of his dorm. Donghyuck, sitting at his computer in his room with the door ajar, greets you sleepily as you pass by.  

Jaehyun steps in the shower with you; you don’t talk, maybe because you’re worried you might wake the others up if you start a full-blown conversation in a bathroom surrounded by other bedrooms. He just passes you what you need, and you do the same for him, and somewhere in between, he kisses you under the spray of the water.  

Later, he falls asleep with a face mask on, and you have to peel it off for him and toss it into the trash. The tip of his nose is shiny, and you want to kiss it, but you know it’ll wake him, and you noticed he’d set his alarm to go off two hours from now. He’s set out a couple of earplugs for you so that you don’t hear it, but you don’t put them in. You want to see him before he leaves, even if it’s in the deadest hours of morning, so you just crawl into bed with him. A minute before you doze off, you feel his damp skin press against your neck, his form curled up against your back.  

The alarm never wakes you; the sun is out when you open your eyes, and when you check your phone, you see that it’s already half-past nine. You also notice that there’s nothing from Jaehyun on your screen, but you try not to dwell on that, considering that you’d been expecting to wake up to an empty bed. His side of the mattress is cold, which means that he’s been gone for some time.  

You don’t know if it’s just because you’re groggy, but your insides still feel like lead when you sit up. The part of you that nags about this relationship is back at full force when you start thinking about Jaehyun going to a pre-recording two hours after spending the last of his energy on you. You start wondering if you’re doing the right thing if it feels like you’re just dragging him down. Your heart clenches tightly when the worst thought hits — maybe, just maybe, he’s tired of you, too.

But you won’t let him go. More to the point — you can’t. He’s the best part of your life; it’d be a cold day in hell if you decided to leave him.

Even the thought of it makes you feel like dying.  

Then again, this isn’t all up to you.  

You’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes — and maybe a couple of frustrated tears — when the door creaks open. You see two mugs and his hands before you see the rest of him come through the doorway. Jaehyun whispers a careful good morning as he sets the coffee down on his table, making sure to push his keyboard away to avoid accidents, before sitting down next to you. You notice that there’s an envelope next to one of the mugs; the flap is slightly open, and from under it, a flash of red peeks out.  

His hand finds its way back to your knee — it’s his favorite resting place, he’s told you once. Your lap feels like home, he’d joked. Maybe he touches it every so often because it’s like a reset button for him.  

He doesn’t ask if you slept well, or if you want to get ready before having your coffee, or if you’re okay. He just squeezes your knee a little tighter. It’s you that has to start the conversation this time.

“How did it go?”

“It went great. You’ll see it on TV later tonight,” he starts rubbing your thigh idly. “You’ll watch it later, right?”  

“Of course. I’ll call you and tell you how cool you look.”  

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. When you lapse into silence again, it’s because you’re expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t come out with it directly. You try not to let it show that you’re worried, that you’re skeptical, that you’re wondering if he thinks he’s too tired, too busy for this, too.  

You’re expecting him to start how most break-ups start. You know I love you, right? And then the telltale but… would come, and you would have to hold back your tears and smile for him, and tell him you know, and that you understand it isn’t the right time, but maybe one day, someday, when he isn’t everyone’s Jung Jaehyun anymore — only yours.  

“You love me, right?”  

It’s not what you’d been expecting. Nor is it the playful little text he’d sent — no laughs, no jokes. His expression is somber, mouth pressed into a thin line.  

“You know I do.”

“A lot, right?”

“A lot,” you confirm softly.  

“Then whatever it is that you’re thinking about us,” he says quietly. “Don’t. Don’t think it. Don’t do it.”  

“Jaehyun—”

“I know it’s hard,” his fingers dig into your skin a little. “I know I put you through a lot. I know you think that I’m suffering because of this relationship too. I know everything. But whatever you think I’m going to do, I won’t do it — not ever. So if you’re thinking of it too, I’m begging you. Don’t. Please.”  

Maybe he had noticed all this time. A wave of guilt washes over you when you see the pained look on his face; perhaps you were even more transparent than you’d originally thought. You nod slowly to show your understanding, and he continues.  

“I know yesterday wasn’t the best you could have hoped for,” he carefully avoids apologizing, although it’s written all over his features. “For me, too. I… I wanted something different. It’ll be better next time. Do you believe me?”  

You hear him swallow — his nails are biting into your thigh a little, so you have to gently peel his hand off. Your fingers replace it, tightening around his palm as you nod.

“I believe you.”  

“And you trust me, right?”

“With my life.”  

“Then can you put your faith in me right now?” He asks. “Don’t panic. Just — just say yes.”

He pats around his pants, finally deciding to slip his hand into his left-hand pocket. Unlike on the Ferris wheel, he manages to extract something, but he keeps it closed in his fist. It’s shaking a little as he takes your hand in his other one, pressing something small and hard into your palm before he curls your fingers over it. His hold keeps your fist closed as he starts talking.

“It’s not immediate. We’ll figure it out. We’ll tell the right people, and they’ll help us tell everyone else — the public, the press. It doesn’t have to happen right now, or any time soon either— not if you don’t want it to. We can take it slow, or whatever. Anything you want — just as long as it’s with me.”  

“Jaehyun,” you shake your head, a little dizzy. “What are you talking about?”  

He slowly loosens his hold on your fingers, his hand dropping to the same spot on your knee. You’re free to open your fist, and when you do, you can’t help but feel a little stumped.

“I don’t mean now,” he repeats, now sounding doubly worried. “It’s not — It’s just…”  

“You’ll get in trouble. We can’t.”

“I won’t. Not if we do this right. Like I said, we can do it slowly. Months — years, however long it takes to do it well. What it is — it’s just… a promise.”  

“A promise,” you echo. It does have a nice ring to it.  

“That I’m not leaving you. Not ever. And… if you say yes, that you won’t either.”  

Your coffee has probably turned cold. Jaehyun is watching you carefully, looking like he’s trying hard not to bite his lip. You look back down at your hand, and he speaks up again.  

“You know I love you, right?”  

You smile slightly. “No but?”  

“No but,” he agrees.  

The ring fits nicely on your finger; maybe it’s well-measured from the amount of times he’s held your hand tightly in his.  

“Okay, Jaehyun,” you whisper. “I promise.”  

When you place your hand on his, he twists his palm, slender fingers gently twirling the ring around the base of your finger.  

Minutes later, he hands you your coffee. It’s sweet and milky, the way he knows you like it best. When he settles back down on the bed, you notice his eyes travel to your finger again, a small smile playing on his lips.  

Perhaps, in this moment, you finally learn to ask the right questions — not about if it’s worth it, but if he is.  

And in this moment, where he sits in silence with you, the sunlight pouring in from his window hitting the tips of his hair and the end of his nose, with the knowledge that his heart is as full as yours, you come to realize that there can — and never will be — any doubt of that.  

[doitforbangchan]

Honeyy, requests still open? Can i ask for jealous reader believe a fake rumor about hyunjin romantically going out with another idol who is about to work with, so reader becames the last romantic and appears on his door late at night, to fight for his love since he's her man who isn't her man, but still is her man ❤ (pls, let the girl win his heart and the D too ����)

Requests are indeed open bestie!!

I hope you like this and it's what you were looking for!!

Never want to wake up - Hyunjin

Pairing : Hyunjin x reader (afab!)

Warnings: Fem! reader, Smut, unprotected sex, cursing, angst, pet names, slut used negatively, friends to lovers. Not proof read :)

WC: 2.4k

MDNI 18+

Your body was frozen, the news headline staring right back at you from your phone. 

‘STRAYKIDS’ HYUNJIN RUMORED TO BE DATING ITZY'S YEJI’

This can’t really be true, can it? Hyunjin was your best friend, and had been for years before he was ever an idol. Surely he would have told you about this? 

Then again, he has been reeaaallllyy busy lately. Too busy to even answer your calls. That would certainly explain why he’s suddenly dropped off the face of the earth from you. 

It all made sense now. Still re-reading the article you could not stop the tears that fell from your eyes. Truth is, you’ve been in love with him for years. He is the only guy you’ve ever really loved. None of the other guys could even hold a candle to him. That's also the reason none of those relationships ever worked out, they weren’t him. They never treated you as well, never were there for you when you cried, never took care of you like he had. 

It’s not like you could really blame Hyunjin for going for a girl like Yeji. She was incredibly gorgeous. And you were…. Just you. As you always had been 

“Fuck this.” You hissed clutching your phone, closing the article. You couldn’t just sit here in your pity, missing him like you had been for weeks. Time to take your mind off it. Maybe by being under someone else. 

Your back met the wall of the grimy club, the guy in front of you attacking your neck with sloppy kisses, his hands roaming your ass. He was cute enough. Not Hyunjin cute but really no man will ever be. It’s that thought that keeps you hesitant to reciprocate, even though it was you who flirted with him first and initiated this interaction. The man, San, had his hands wandering under the hem of your short dress, clutching your rear and forcing himself into you. 

This was quickly becoming too much; the hands on you, his mouth on your body, the smell of this guy. He wasn’t Hyunjin. 

You put your hands on his chest, trying to lightly push him away from you.

“San, stop” You mumbled, now becoming more forceful when he doesn't move from you.

“Hmm?” His mouth was still on your neck. 

“I-I’m sorry but I..I can’t do this.” You manage to get out. He pulls back from you to peer over you, disgust now filling his eyes. 

He scoffs, “Oh I see what your little game is. You’re a fucking tease. Acting like a slut then running away at the last second. Well not with me.” He turns and walks back to the bar not sparing you another glance. 

Feeling your shoulders drop at his words to you, the reality of what you had done was setting in. 

‘What the fuck is wrong with me? When did I become this person?’ The answer was clear. 

Hyunjin was what was wrong. 

Your mind was running a million miles an hour, and before you could stop yourself you collected yourself and ran out the exit. You had to see him. Had to speak with him. 

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

Hyunjin woke with a start, the pounding at his front door seeming to never end. He blearily looked at the time on his alarm clock. Who is trying to come over at 1 am? 

Heaving himself out of bed and to the front door, he was ready to chew out whoever was disturbing his sleep, until he opened the door and saw you standing there. In the skimpiest dress he had ever seen you wear, makeup messed up and arms wrapped around your body. 

“Y/n?” He asked, confused.

“Uh hey Hyun.” You could see he was clearly fast asleep when you disturbed him. “I really didn't mean to wake you. I’m sorry I’m just being stupid, I’ll go. Sorry again.” You turned to leave, humiliated now, when he reached for you by your arm to stop you. 

“No, what's wrong? Are you ok? Did you just come from the club?” He really had no idea what was going on. All he knew is that you looked like you needed help. He would always help you. 

Your shoulders were shaking, the nerves coming back at you full force now that you were here in front of him. You took a deep breath before beginning, “I just…. I was out at that shitty club downtown, and there was this guy…” 

Hyunjin held his breath waiting for your next words. Did he hurt you? Take advantage of you? Hyunjin would kill anyone who would do that to you. 

“A-and the thing is.. He wasn’t you, Hyunjin. I tried so hard to forget about you and Yeji but your face was all I could see when he was kissing me.”

He tried to interrupt you “Y/n I-” 

“No! Let me finish! It’s taking all I have to even get this far so please let me finish.” He nodded at you to continue. 

“I know I could never hold a candle to her. Yeji is beautiful. And talented. And everything a man could want. You guys really do make a handsome couple. But that doesn’t mean it’s not killing me inside, to see you together. The truth is. I’m in love with you Hyunjin. I have been for literal years. For me it’s always been you. I know you don’t feel the same I just had to tell yo-” 

Hyunjin cut you off, crashing his lips into yours and cradling the back of your head. Before you could even register what happened, he pulled back from you, his breath fanning over your lips. 

“I love you too, Y/n.” And he brought you in for another kiss. This time you reciprocated it. He could taste no alcohol in your mouth so knew you were sober.

This definitely wasn’t how you saw this interaction going. You thought for sure he’d tell you to leave, to never come near him or his girlfriend again. Oh shit, Yeji! 

Finding his chest with your hands you shoved him off slightly. “Hyunjin, you can't. What about Yeji? I’m not a homewrecker!” 

He laughed at your statement. “You’re right, in order for you to be a homewrecker there has to be one for you to wreck. There’s nothing going on between Yeji and I.” 

Huh? “But I saw the article, the picture of you both together. I thought…” 

He placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “We’re working on a performance together. We are dance partners, that's all, sweet girl.” 

Dance partners. That’s all. You felt so stupid. You brought your hands to your face, trying to cover your humility. He grabbed your hands, prying them from you, “Hey look at me. It’s okay I promise. I know I’ve kinda been unreachable lately. I have so much to prepare for, I really haven't had any time on my phone. I should have reached out though to at least let you know what was going on. I am so sorry for keeping you in the dark. I never meant to do that to you.” He held your face with both of his hands, looking into your eyes. 

“You have no idea how much I’m in love with you.” That was all you needed. Launching yourself at him, mouths colliding. The kiss was everything you ever wanted. You could practically feel his love in that kiss. 

“Come on,” He mumbled to you, “let's get inside before my neighbors see what I’m about to do to you.” He hauled you into his home, mouth hands never leaving you. 

You felt a tingle at his words, and let out a little moan. The noise certainly didn't go unnoticed by Hyunjin, “Unless you want them to see you a mess for me? I always knew you were dirty.” He teased you.

Shaking your head no, “Uh uh. Want you to take me to your bed.” 

He closed the door behind you and led you into his room. 

“There's my little romantic. You really are perfect for me.” You melted at his words. 

Hyunjin flicked on the low lights in his bedroom, there was no way he would let your first time together be in the dark. He wanted to see all of you. 

He pressed your mouths together again, standing at the end of his bed. He let his hands fall to your waist, then to your exposed thighs, rubbing small comforting circles. 

“If you don’t want this, you have to tell me now. I don’t think I could let you go once I have you.” He whispered, giving you breathing room. 

You circled your arms around his shoulders, mouth finding his ear. “I want this more than you know. Want you so bad, Jinnie.” 

He groaned at your words, moving to slowly remove the dress from your body. He wanted to savor every moment. 

You let him pull the garment over your head and throw it to the side. You saw the exact moment he realized you weren't wearing a bra, this particular dress not needing one. His eyes widened, giving you a cheeky smirk as he pushed you onto his bed back first. He crawled over you slowly, mouth trailing kisses up your body until his mouth rejoined yours. Hyunjin let his hands find the soft skin of your breasts, fingers circling and pulling at your nipples, causing your hips to buck and grind on his growing erection. 

“Jinnie” He seriously could listen to your whines all day, “ Please Jinnie. Need you.” 

You reached your hands down to the waistband of his pj pants, sticking one inside the garment to grasp him. He let out a gasp at the contact, giving you a slight grind into your hand. His dick was so soft. 

One of his own hands traveled down your body, finding your panties and tugging them off your body, letting his fingers find your clit. When he made contact with you you arched further into him, whimpers falling freely. 

He cooed at you, “So wet sweet girl. Who made you this wet, huh?” Continuing to give you light fluttering touches, sweeping his fingers up and down your pussy. 

“You. You Jinnie always you.” Your words made his eyes roll back into this head. Your hand stroked over him, the movement from your grasp remaining consistent. You felt one of his long fingers run over your opening, before he inserted it into you, drawing a long moan form your mouth. 

“Fuck, so tight around my finger, Baby. I wonder what you’ll feel like around my cock.” He gave you shallow thrusts with his pointer finger, adding his middle finger to join the one that was stuffed in you. Your hips were bucking, the grip on his dick tightened and he hissed. “Easy sweet girl, you gotta be gentle with it.” 

“M’ sorry Jinnie. Just need you so bad. Need you to fuck me.” You looked up at him with glassy doe eyes. Fuck me eyes. 

“Ok baby. Ok.” He removed his fingers from your hole, and brought the fingers up to his mouth giving them a lick. Your taste alone could have had him busting in his pants. “But I wont fuck you. Not tonight. Tonight I am going to make love to you.” 

You wanted to cry at his words. You removed your hand from his member, and helped him push the fabric down his thighs revealing his cock in all its glory. And it was glorious indeed. Long and pale, head red and leaking ready to take you. He reached over to his bedside table to pull out a condom but you stopped him. “I have an IUD and I'm clean. Just wanna feel you raw.” 

Fuck you were perfect. 

Hyunjin positioned himself above your entrance, giving himself a light squeeze before he lowered his tip into you, breaching your walls. 

The sound you let out was straight pornographic. Never in your entire life had you ever been filled so deliciously. Hyunhin was feeling the same way, your body taking him completely in one thrust. 

“Oh fuck, baby. Your pussy was made to take me.” He let in a grunt of pleasure. 

You nodded dumbly, “Uh huh. Please move, Jinnie. Please pleaaassseee” Arms once again around his shoulders. 

He mouths at the skin on your neck and gives you another thrust. You were impatient though and brought your hips up to meet his, craving the friction. 

Sensing your impatience, he throws one of your legs over his hips and begins to drive into you. 

If he thought you were loud before he had no idea. He was sure he would have an angry note on his door by the morning. It was all worth it, though, to see your pleasure. To be the one to give you that pleasure. 

He could hear the sound of your wetness with each thrust, giving him another sign you were enjoying it. 

Your nails were running down his back, leaving red marks in their wake but neither of you cared. The feeling of him was too good. You knew you weren't going to last long. You had wanted this for literal years. 

“Jin. I'm gonna cum.” You warned him. His fingers returned to your clit and rubbed tight, quick circles over it, trying to help you get there. 

“Cum for me, my love.” That sent you over the edge, a sob leaving your mouth at his words. He held you close to him as your body shook with your orgasm, whispering about how much he loved you and how lucky he was that you were his now. His thrusts didn't slow even as he himself reached his high, filling you to the brim with his sticky essence. His moans of pleasure almost made you cum again, it was the sweetest sound you had ever heard. 

Only when he heard your soft whimpers of overstimulation did he stop, giving you a sloppy kiss before pulling out. He watched his cum leak out of you, feeling another wave of ecstasy course through him at the sight. 

He curled you into him as he laid next to you, rubbing up and down your stomach sensually. 

“I really love you y/n. I’m so happy you feel the same way.” He dropped a kiss to your head. 

“I love you Hyun. I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. This feels like a dream.” Your voice was raspy from your previous moaning. 

Hyunjin chuckled at your words. 

“If this is a dream then I never want to wake up.” 

[wynnyfryd]

Trailer park Steve AU part 60

part 1 | part 59 | ao3

cw: reference to canonical minor character death

Max slams the phone down, knocking her forehead against the wall. Sixteen calls in a row and still no answer. “I give up,” she sighs. “You should just go.” “Seriously?” Steve protests. “And just leave you here? Alone? After—?” After all that? He throws his hands out like an umpire calling a safe. “No. No way.” “Look, my mom will be home soon, you can’t—” “—I’m not letting you get hurt—!” “—What are you gonna do? Fight my nightmares for me?”

“Maybe I will,” Steve mutters under his breath, pissed off and replaying the conversation on repeat while he gets ready. Feels like a psycho for doing it; feels certifiably unhinged just going about his evening after everything that happened, putting on a clean shirt and choking himself in a cloud of Farrah Fawcett spray so he can go pick up the sweet-but-stupid girl named Brenda he promised to take to the game tonight; so he can go cheer in the bleachers like he didn’t almost die.

(Or like, very vividly hallucinate his own death, which... Yeah. Doesn’t feel any less horrific.)

But whatever. Max is right. Without El, there’s really nothing to do but wait. Hop’s dead, Bob’s dead, Joyce is thirty hours away. Owens is off the table, too. What’s Steve gonna do? Call the government and tell them to come nuke the boogeyman? He doesn’t have any proof. 

He also doesn’t want to freak Dustin or any of the other kids out without knowing for sure what’s going on and what, if anything, can be done about it, so...

Fuck.

Fuck!

He gets dressed; he goes out. Picks up Brenda and does his best to be nice to her even though she gets on his nerves the moment she gets into his car, and he buys them sodas at the gas station and doesn't say a word when she spills Sprite down the side of his passenger seat.

The school is packed when they show up — the crowd in high spirits, the marching band leading chants. Nancy's reporting from the sidelines, Lucas is laughing with his teammates on the bench, and Steve leads Brenda toward the bleachers and does his best not to think. Not about the graveyard, not Max, not the looming threat of cosmic terrors. Not about the fact that Eddie is somewhere in this building, probably looking all hot and menacing while he leads tonight's campaign. Probably perched on a prop throne drinking Mountain Dew from a painted chalice like a fucking dork; probably making it look sexy, anyway. Tight jeans, legs spread, an air of casual command…

Steve could go find him. He could make everyone else leave; he could get on his knees and crawl between Eddie's legs—

"Does it bother you that we might win the championship, like, right after you graduated?"

Reality comes back like a slap in the face. "Yeah, that's an excellent question, Brenda, thank you so much for bringing that up."

They get settled into their seats, and Steve wishes he were more excited when the ref throws the jump ball, but he mostly just wants to go home. ("You always want to go home," the Robin in his head reminds him, and the Robin in real life throws him a weird look when she catches him snorting to himself about it.) He's just tired. Worn down in his bones, hollowed where he thinks his marrow should be, and he's clinging to normalcy with a sort of sweaty desperation that he’s pretty sure Brenda can smell on him because the date just sucks; it’s so bland, so mutually boring and bored. He spends most of the night mouthing stupid shit at Robin or keeping a sharp eye on the court — anything to ignore his proximity to Eddie; anything to drown out his messed-up head and heart. 

When the game finally ends Brenda gets a ride to a party with some friends. Steve goes back to Dustin’s place and paces a hole into the carpet. Stays up until 3 A.M., humming a Fleetwood Mac song.

In the morning, he tells himself as he drifts into fitful sleep. 

In the morning it’ll be fine. 

In the morning Max will come by the store like she promised, and they’ll keep trying until they get ahold of El, or Owens, or someone, and that someone will know what to do and how to help.

—

In the morning the TV tells him there’s a dead girl in his house.

—

part 61

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