Eyes on me - Nanami Kento x f!reader
absolute pwp 18+ MDNI — cw: dry humping, oral, overstimulation, praise, throat fucking, a needy brat of a reader, and just all around self-indulgent filth
Fuck the euphemisms and the beating around the bush. You’re horny. You’ve been clenching your thighs all day at work. You’ve been indulging in dirty daydreams that always end in you bent over a desk. You’ve been doing kegels just to feel something.
But Kento is holed up in his office, ignoring you.
You pace back and forth in front of the door to his home office. You figure you should leave him be. He already hates overtime, and he’s probably in a rotten mood. But you’ve had such a long day, and you’re so wound up now, you won’t get through even the coldest shower without breaking and touching yourself. And to be fair, you’re usually fine with touching yourself. But right now, you need to be touched by him.
“I can hear you clomping around out there.”
You stop in your tracks, grimacing. You hear Kento sigh before he says, “You can come in.”
You open the door a sliver and peek in to see Kento with his head propped up in one hand, the other poised over a pile of documents. Still working, as you thought. And a full hour past quitting time, which explains why his brow is pinched with annoyance.
“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.
“I was, uh…lonely. Just wanted to see you,” you grin sheepishly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. He says nothing for a moment, just looks you over with those sharp, observant eyes. Those eyes that burn through you, pooling molten warmth in your gut. You fidget under the weight of his gaze and squeeze your thighs together, trying not to look as desperate as you feel.
“Hmm,” Kento murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a wry smile. “Lonely isn’t the word I would use.”
You stiffen, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s right, but hey. “Well, what word would you use then?” you huff, bottom lip poked out in a pout. He smirks.
“Needy.”
You splutter for a moment, caught. You try to explain it away, tripping over your words, while Kento observes you with an amused smile.
“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupts you once he’s had his fill of your stammering, eyes glittering with mirth. He pats his thighs, his slacks stretched deliciously taut over the thick muscle. “Come here.”
Your heart swells, embarrassment forgotten. You rush over with the intent of clambering into his lap. He stops you for a moment, holding you at arm’s length as he smooths your hair out of your face. You’re so pent up that even that innocent action makes you want to whimper. But his smile has tempered back to a serious expression, so you bite back your desperation and try to show him you’re listening.
“I need to get these papers sorted tonight,” he says. You frown, and he sighs. “I know, I don’t want to do them either, but they need to get done. It shouldn’t take long. If you can be good and occupy yourself until I’m finished, then…”
He trails off for a moment, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your nerves buzz at the short, tender contact. “Then I’ll take care of you. Understood?”
Heat unfurls at the base of your stomach. “Understood,” you salute, overeager. He chuckles.
Kento leans back to make room for you. You settle yourself in his lap, facing him, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing yourself to his broad, warm chest. He’s so tall, it’s easy enough for him to hook his head over your shoulder and keep working. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the fresh, familiar scent of his aftershave. You should feel calm, content, like you often do when he holds you like this. Instead you just feel even more hot and bothered, and you can’t help but want to fidget and find some friction against him.
Kento said to be good. But he also said you could occupy yourself. And then he let you climb onto his lap. So, really, hasn’t he given you permission to occupy yourself… using his lap?
A little rub wouldn’t hurt, you reason. It might help ease the sharp burn of desire between your legs—reduce the tension that has you all strung out. He already knows that you’re all worked up. You’re just taking care of yourself until he can do it for you. Yeah, you think, a little rubbing would be fine.
You shuffle your hips against him experimentally, holding your breath for a reaction. Kento does shut down your bratty antics from time to time. But he doesn’t stir, doesn’t chide you, just keeps scratching away at whatever documents he’s tending to. You shift your hips down again, more deliberately—it can’t be mistaken for repositioning. Still, he says nothing. So you shift forward again, and this time you fully grind down with the pressure you need. The friction is delicious, and a little moan bubbles up from your throat.
You feel Kento’s hand come up to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot under your ear. You freeze, a pleasant shiver running through you. He hasn’t scolded you, but his gentle grip on your neck makes you feel like he wants you to ask.
“Kento,” you mumble into his shoulder, “…Is this okay?”
“Is what okay, my love?” he replies, seemingly indifferent—as if his warm hand isn’t smoothing down the length of your back before stopping to grasp at the soft flesh of your hip. You let out a shaky breath as you shudder.
“…R-Rubbing myself on you? While I wait,” you say in a soft rush of air. You press your face into his neck, cheeks prickling with warmth.
Kento lets out a slow, measured exhale and squeezes your hip. He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and so obviously pleased.
“Do as you like, sweetheart.”
You hear him pick up his pen again, but his non dominant hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. You feel his promise to take care of you seared into you with each pad of his fingers.
You start grinding down on him again, building a rhythm. It feels so good— the pressure and friction and warmth of him against you, even through layers of fabric. You feel him start to harden beneath you, and you smile to yourself. Even if his mind is occupied with silly paperwork, Kento’s body belongs to you and only you.
A wicked little idea starts to take form in your mind.
You let soft, deliberate sounds of pleasure spill from your lips as you grind into Kento’s steadily growing erection. You pant as you rock against him, fanning warm breath across his neck with each exhale, your lips just barely brushing his skin. You relish in how your usually unflappable lover stiffens, your soft lips and sweet little sounds curling a shudder down his spine. You don’t push it too far—you agreed to be good after all. But you dance up to the line, feeling equal parts giddy and greedy.
Emboldened by Kento’s small reactions, you slowly swirl your hips the way you know he loves, and you let out a breathy sigh of his name. You feel the muscles of his neck tense, and he clears his throat. You think he might finally chide you, but he doesn’t. Wordlessly, he reaches between you to readjust his cock so it isn’t pinned to the side as it strains against his slacks. He aligns it vertically, his flushed tip peeking out from his waistband. You grin widely, having won your prize. You’re not the only one who’s needy now.
You press down against him, rutting your clothed cunt against the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as the soft material of your shorts catches against his sensitive tip, and you know soon it’ll be smeared with precum. You rock against him with a fervor now, trying to shift your hips at a better angle each time, pitching your pelvis forward to try and catch more of your clit on each down and upward motion. Trying to get more of that delicious friction that’s pooling wetness in your panties. But even as you pant softly into his shoulder and work yourself against him, you know it won’t be enough.
It’s all Kento’s fault. Before you met him, an orgasm was a simple delight that your own fingers could give you with ease. But now your body knows him. It knows how he feels pressed deep into you, snug against your cervix, filling you up completely. It knows the true depths of pleasure that you’re capable of feeling only when he’s inside you. Even if he hasn’t left any lasting marks, Kento has engraved himself into your body.
You need him to fill you. And right now, you’re warm and wet, but so empty.
You whimper, rocking yourself faster, more desperately. It feels good—really good—but the more you try to chase that goodness to an orgasm, the quicker it seems to slip away. You’re riding a wave that refuses to crest and crash down—it just undulates over and over. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on that small flame inside you, trying to get it to burn just a little bit brighter.
Then all of a sudden, Kento’s other hand is sinking into your hip and he’s griiinding up into you with so much pressure that you gasp.
“Not enough, is it?” Kento says, his voice husky and strained.
You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh of relief. “Not enough. I need you,” you pant, your hips still bucking against his—chasing the heat of his reciprocating friction.
Without warning, Kento stands up, and you squeal as you lose balance on his lap. You lock your legs around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulders to avoid falling. He uses one arm to hold you up, and with the other hand he neatly gathers and tucks his documents into a drawer. With a soft grunt, he sits you down on his cleared desk.
You start to release your koala-like hold on him, only for him to pull you into a searing kiss that has you scrabbling at the nape of his neck for purchase. His tongue licks into your mouth with a force and precision that makes you moan. You kiss him back in earnest, your legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in as close as you can.
You both part, panting. Kento caresses your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with those dark, lust-glazed eyes that say without words that he intends to devour you. Then he places a hand in the center of your chest and gently pushes you down on your back. You stare up at the light fixture, dizzied, as he lifts your legs from around his waist and scoots you further back onto the desk.
You gasp when you feel him lift your hips and remove your shorts and panties in a single, sharp tug. You’re bare to him now—the cool air making your wet folds feel icy cold. But only for a moment. Because then he presses that searing hot tongue to your core and oh. You can’t help but arch up into the sensation as the flat of his tongue slides through your folds, lapping up the mess you’ve made while waiting for him.
“Sweetheart.” You feel the affectionate name rumble against your sensitive folds. “You’re dripping. All this for me?”
“Y-yes—fuck, Kento,” you whimper as he dives in again, working his tongue into your sopping entrance before slowly licking back up to your clit. “I couldn’t wait—I need you, Kento, please—“
You’re cut off by your own moan as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Your hips lift off the desk to meet the hot, wet suction as best you can. He lets you press yourself into his mouth, sucking hungrily at the sensitive nub until your thighs are trembling. Then he releases your clit with a wet sound, and he works back into your soaking folds to taste you again, groaning softly as he slurps and swallows down your arousal.
That small flame you were chasing while grinding against him is now building into an all-consuming fire. You can feel the pulse of it deep in you as the sensation mounts, stronger and hotter. The pleasure Kento gives you is so intense and sudden after hours of restraining yourself, you feel your body starting to run away with the feeling—a freight train gaining speed, out of your control. You’re going to come if he doesn’t stop, and this isn’t how you want it, even as good as it is.
“Kento, gonna come,” you gasp out, clawing at the smooth surface of his desk. “Don’ wanna come—stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet—“
Kento lifts his mouth from you the moment you say stop, but he doesnt remove his face from between your legs. He peers up at you from there with those sharp eyes, half-lidded and dark. The visual alone could send you over the edge if you weren’t desperately trying to stave off your own orgasm.
“And why don’t you want to come yet?” he asks with suspicion—seemingly resentful that you pulled him away from such a delicious meal.
You swallow, trying to catch your breath. You know what you want, and embarrassment aside, you’re determined to have it.
“Wanna come on your cock,” you say softly.
It’s not just dirty talk, or a move to play up his ego. You need it. You’ve needed it all day—to come undone with him splitting you open, filling every inch of you.
The moment you make your request, Kento’s expression shifts, and for a second, your desperate desire is mirrored on his face. Then in a quick succession of motions, he’s standing up, undoing his belt, pulling his cock out of his pants, and yanking your hips towards him with such sharpness that you yelp.
“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmurs as he leans over you, one hand aligning his cock with your entrance. He cups your face, tilting it so you look into his eyes as he presses the blunt head against your opening. You whimper at the beginning of the stretch.
“So fucking good for me. So perfect,” he rasps, his eyes burning. “Asking for what you want like a good girl. You want to come on my cock? Then go ahead and come, sweetheart.”
He slams into you in one precise thrust that has you squealing at the sudden, blinding-hot stretch of it—the press of it into the deepest parts of you all at once. Even if you’ve had it a thousand times before, the way he fills you still hits you like a boulder. He thrusts once, twice, three times, each devastatingly deep, and you’re gasping for air as if he’s fucked all the breath out of you.
This. This is exactly what you needed. To be taken apart by him in the way only he can. You can’t contain the blaze that’s been built by your dry humping, and the wet heat of his tongue, and him, just him—the man that drives you wild just by sitting there and doing paperwork. Kento holds your gaze as he fucks into you, looking at you like you’re a treasure, like he wants to eat you alive, so utterly devoted that it makes your heart swell, and it’s too much. It’s all too much, in the very best way.
Everything locks down and the heat explodes. You cry out his name when you come, your body shuddering and writhing with the force of it. Kento stills his hips and lets you pulse and clench around him as it works, and you swear you only ever want to come with him inside of you—the fullness radiating pleasure into the deepest parts of you.
When you finally come down from your high, you’re still trembling, and Kento is smoothing your hair out of your face as he studies you. His expression is soft but dark in an indecipherable way.
When your lucid eyes find his, he asks, “Did that feel good, sweetheart?”
You nod weakly, and you feel his cock jump a little inside you. He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.
“Mm, that’s good, love. Now give me another.”
Before you can process it, before you can open your mouth to protest, he’s drawing out of you and plunging back in with full force, and you scream.
Your brain and body are already fried from your first orgasm, haven’t had time to recalibrate—and he wants another. And he seems determined to take it from you.
Kento sets an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into you with deep precision, bottoming out every time he rolls his hips into yours. Every drag of his girth against your walls feels like it sprays off sparks of electricity, and you can’t help but try to curl back from him, trying to escape the intensity of the feeling. Your recoiling is met with a firm grip on your neck—not enough to truly choke you, but enough to keep you from scrambling away.
“No running,” he says in a warning tone, snapping his hips forward with each deep thrust, never slowing his pace.
“‘s too much,” you slur out. You’re trying not to run, you’re trying your best to take it, but it’s so hard when every stroke feels so white hot.
“You can take it, sweetheart. Give me another, I know you can,” Kento coos—and you want to. There���s nothing you want more than to give Kento whatever he asks for, especially when he’s sweating and flushed and looking so in love as he thrusts into you.
“I’m trying, ‘m tryin’” you whine, hot tears starting to prickle in your eyes at the overstimulation.
“It’s okay, love, just let go. Let go and give me another,” Kento says, more softly now, moving his hand from your neck to cradle the side of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he works deep in you. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”
You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears spill down your cheeks. “I wan’ to, I want to—but I can’t.”
“You can, and you will. You’re going to right now, love, I can feel it,” he says lowly, and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. He’s right.
Your body’s feedback to your brain must be delayed, because you don’t even feel your peak building until it’s suddenly there—looming over you, drawing your whole body up taut before crashing down like a tsunami. Your second orgasm blazes through you in an instant, and you let out a strangled cry as it takes you by surprise.
“Good girl, there it is,” Kento soothes as you writhe and sob through it. He finally slows his pace as you shudder and whimper and grab at his shirt to keep yourself grounded—trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart.
You lose focus of his face for a moment—your eyes must roll back, because you hear him say “Eyes on me, love” in that low, smooth voice of his. With some effort, Kento swims back into your vision—his expression a portrait of lust and reverence. If you weren’t in the throes of such miserable pleasure, you might notice how his hands are starting to shake, how his jaw is clenched, how his hips stutter as he slowly, slowly strokes in and out of you now—on the edge of losing control.
You gradually come down from your peak until you’re back on solid ground. You blink up at Kento, dazed, your head resting heavy against the hard wood of his desk. You devour the sight of him above you. He’s panting softly, a few strands loose from his usual slicked-back hair and now hanging into his eyes. His tie is loose and his dress shirt is rumpled from where you gripped it. An unkempt, sex-mussed Kento—the sight makes you throb, and you wonder how your body can still respond to him after coming twice.
At least his hips are still now, which is a small mercy for your blindingly sensitive cunt. You gaze up at him, eyes soft, as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head to catch his thumb in your mouth and suck it, and he lets out a low groan.
“Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give me one more, sweet girl,” he warns.
You promptly release the digit, which makes him laugh. He presses his thumb back between your lips and watches lovingly as you lave over it with your tongue then release it with a final, wet kiss. He can’t help but shudder a little, and you notice.
“Are you close?” you ask softly, and he nods.
“Don’t know if I can hold back. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking a little pained. You can see now the visible signs of his restraint, and it warms your heart that he’s worried about you. Even when he takes you beyond your limits, he’d never push you to the point of breaking.
“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more right now,” you admit, your thighs still trembling. “…But if you want, you can fuck my mouth,” you grin, your mouth watering at the thought.
Kento’s eyes widen, then darken, and a soft groan slips from his lips as he surges forward to kiss you.
“You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “So good for me. Get on your knees.”
You scramble to comply, and Kento helps lever you up and off the desk so you can kneel at his feet. He grabs a cushion from his chair and leans down to slip it under your knees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he draws back to his full height. Your heart brims with affection at the simple sweetness of the action.
You look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and press soft kisses to his thigh that make him shudder. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, flushed and shining with your own wetness. You grab the base, testing the girth in your hands, and Kento lets out a soft, strangled sound.
“You really are close, huh?” you giggle, licking a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on his hot flesh.
He grits out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as you take his swollen tip between your lips. You suck on him gently, circling your tongue around the head, and you feel him throb on your tongue in response. Kento’s hand finds its place in your hair, gripping firmly as he slowly rocks into your mouth. You open your jaw further and meet his shallow thrusts with eager bobs of your head, sucking greedily around him.
You love taking Kento in your mouth, if for no other reason than to drink in his reactions. The soft grunts and pants and groans you pull from him make you preen. You watch him through your eyelashes—the way his brow is knitted, his jaw slack and bottom lip trembling with restrained pleasure. You do your best to burn the image into your mind. Though there is one part of this gorgeous vision that could be improved. You pull off his cock with a wet sound and rest his throbbing shaft on your cheek as you squeeze the base with one hand.
“Eyes on me, Ken,” you grin, parroting his earlier words. The irony isn’t lost on Kento, who lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. He dutifully opens his eyes and peeks down at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. When his eyes meet yours, he groans and turns his head away, his cock twitching against your cheek.
“I really won’t last if I look at you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice breaking with the effort to restrain himself.
“I don’t care if you last. I want to taste you already,” you grin. He huffs out a shaky breath as you rub his tip against your slick, swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth, Kento. I want you to come down my throat,” you urge him, your eyes burning into his.
His breath hitches, and you feel his hand tighten its grip in your hair. “…I can’t be gentle,” he warns you, eyes flaring and voice tight.
“Then don’t be,” you hum, smiling before kissing the tip of his cock. Kento’s hips twitch, and he groans.
“Fuck. I am going to ruin you,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you can’t take it, slap my leg. If you don’t, I won’t stop.”
A thrill runs through you, and you feel your pulse throb through your cunt. You nod, dizzied and giddy with the promise of Kento using your throat.
You slacken your jaw and place his tip on your tongue, then look up at him with expectant eyes—waiting for him to set the pace. He hisses a breath out through his teeth as he readjusts his grip in your hair—then he plunges his cock into the waiting heat of your throat.
You gag at the intrusion, but you do your best to open your throat, even as your body jerks as you choke around him. He sets an unforgiving pace, stuffing his cock down your tight, wet throat as you try diligently to take him—fresh tears burning in your eyes from the effort.
He moans as you take everything he gives you, his gaze fixed on the way your lips stretch around him—a slick mess of spit and precum clinging to his shaft and dripping down your chin as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t tap out—you just dig your fingers into Kento’s thighs, deliriously happy to choke around him if it’s for his pleasure.
“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re so fucking perfect—taking me so well, choking on me—gonna make me f-fucking come—“
Mindless praise spills from Kento’s lips like a prayer as he rocks into the wet heat of your mouth, his pleasure threatening to surge up and over the edge. You can sense how close he is now, and the thrill of it has your aching cunt throbbing again. Kento watches in amazement as you slither your hand between your thighs, rubbing haphazard circles around your clit as you gag on his cock.
You force your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes as you look up at Kento, desperately wanting to see how he looks right now, so close to coming. You expect him to have his eyes squeezed shut with impending bliss, but you find he’s staring at you, mouth agape, gaze reverent and drunk from pleasure. And the moment your glassy, tear-filled eyes lock with his, he’s gone.
Kento comes with a choked sound, snapping a final deep thrust into your throat before stilling as his hot cum spurts down your throat.
You do your best to swallow it, but you can’t take it all. You pull off with a wet gasp, coughing and spluttering as you try not to choke on the cum coating your mouth and throat. Kento shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm, transfixed by the sight of you gasping for air, thick strings of saliva and cum running down your chin and connecting your mouth to his cock. That heady mixture of spit and cum drips and splatters on your shirt, your thighs, the floor, as you cough and catch your breath.
Mind still hazy with pleasure, Kento fumbles around to help you. He digs through his drawers and finds a handkerchief. He kneels down, cups your jaw, and begins to wipe your wet mouth and chin. He cleans your face gently, dazed and murmuring praises—before you cut him off with a whine.
“‘M sorry, Kento,” you whimper, looking genuinely disappointed.
“For what, love? You were perfect,” he soothes, confusion knitting his brow. You meet his gaze with a frown.
“I wasted your cum. I really wanted to drink it,” you say glumly, staring at the mess of cum staining your shirt and your thighs.
A beat passes as Kento stares at you with amazement, then he huffs out an incredulous laugh. He pulls you to his chest, shaking with mirth, as he smooths a hand down your back. You melt into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.
“Oh, sweetheart, that’s alright. There’s more where that came from.”
You feel his wet, spent cock stir against your thigh.
———
a/n: the first time i had multiple orgasms i thought i was gonna die. idk how you guys are surviving 3+ back to back 😭 anyways I’ve looked at this way too long—please take it away from me 💀
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MONACO
LN4 x Reader
Summary: Y/N suffers a horrid date, luckily a knight in shining armour seems to be there to save the day.
Warnings: dickhead man, inappropriate touching (not detailed)
Can be made into a part two if requested - not proofread
Monaco glittered under the afternoon sun, a perfect day for lunch by the marina. Y/N smoothed out her dress and sighed, looking over at her date, Adam. She had hoped for a pleasant afternoon, but he had been insufferably rude from the start.
Y/N had been hesitant to go on this date from the very beginning. She was working in Monaco at the time, and she hadn’t been there for long. Even though she was dating, she had met someone who seemed to be interested in her, and so she went for it. But it was not going in the way she wanted.
Unwanted touches on the leg, which Y/N quickly pushed away, caused her chair to move a little bit away from him. Remarks on her looks included the following: he didn't think highly of the things she was wearing, she wasn't grinning enough for him, and her hair could have been styled a little more well. Y/N was raised to be a strong woman who ignored the opinions of others and always looked out for herself, so she knew she should speak out, but this was unlike anything she had ever experienced. It was emotionally draining, and all Y/N wanted to do was run out of there and go home. She had sat there nicely, not wanting to cause a scene, wanting to get it over with.
"Excuse me," Y/N said softly, standing up to leave, clearly at her breaking point. Adam grabbed her arm roughly, yanking her back into her seat. "Don't just walk out on me," he snapped.
Y/N flinched, the grip Adam had on her arm hardening as he glared at her, clearly realizing that she was no longer wanting his company. Y/N looked around, seeing that people were beginning to stare. “Please stop, I don’t think this is going to work out, so I’m just going to go home now. Thank you for asking me on a date, but you’re not for me.” Y/N whispered, trying to jerk her arm out of his grasp.
“Excuse me,” a voice said behind Y/N. “I think the lady asked you to let her go, so I’d appreciate it if you did so.”
Adam just rolled his eyes at the man. The man was young, Y/N guessed around 23 or 24 years old, well-dressed in a white buttoned-down shirt and smart pants. He was nice-looking, and he smiled sweetly at Y/N when she turned her head to see who was talking. She smiled back, her heart rate slightly speeding up at the sight of him.
“What a waste of time,” Adam muttered, rolling his eyes and letting go of Y/N’s arm. Pushing past her, Adam stormed out, leaving Y/N looking at the man who seemed to save her. “Thank you for that,” she said, smiling slightly and looking down, playing with her nails.
"Are you alright?" the man asked, his voice gentle. "That looked pretty intense."
"Yeah, I'll be fine," Y/N replied, though her arm still throbbed slightly. "I’m just going to go home, I’m sorry for interrupting your lunch," she said, looking slightly behind the man to the table that he had come from, a round table full of people who Y/N believed to be his friends, all chatting away to one another, every so often looking in the man’s direction.
"Let me drive you home, it’ll be quicker, maybe get some ice on your arm," he offered, concern etched on his face.
"You don't have to. I'll be fine, I’m really sorry for interrupting your lunch, but I really appreciate what you did, you seem like a good man," she insisted, though part of her felt grateful for his offer. She turned, beginning to walk away, towards the restaurant door.
“Miss, excuse me! Miss!” the man shouted after her. Y/N turned around to face him. “Look, I know you’ve just been through a really shitty date, and the last thing you wanna do is talk to a man since I know we as a species probably seem really shit right now. But I promise, I’ll drop you off home safely and leave you be. I think you’re really pretty, and you definitely didn’t deserve to be treated like that, so I just want to make sure you’re going to be okay.” The man rambled, almost out of breath, and Y/N just slightly giggled, not quite sure what to make of the man, but he seemed sweet.
“I’m still walking home,” she said, as the man looked slightly defeated. “But, if you want to walk with me, you’re welcome to join me.” She smiled and began walking, with the man quickly catching up to walk with her.
They walked together through the narrow streets of Monaco, the city bustling with life around them. Y/N glanced at her unexpected knight in shining armor. "Thank you again," she said. "I don't even know your name."
He chuckled, a bit surprised. "I'm Lando. Lando Norris."
She tilted her head, not recognizing the name. "Nice to meet you, Lando. I'm Y/N."
"Nice to meet you too, Y/N. So, what brings you to Monaco? Other than going on terrible dates."
"I'm here for work," she explained. "I’ve been here for about a week, but I go home in a few days, so I thought, why not just ruin it by talking to shitty men.”
Lando faked a shocked face and wounded heart. “I do hope I am not in that category.”
Y/N laughed at his expression. “I guess I’ll have to decide by the time you walk me to my door. I’d rate it currently a 5 out of 10.”
“I guess I’ll have to try harder then,” Lando laughed.
As they continued to walk, they chatted about everything and nothing. Lando shared stories about his travels and racing, though he didn't mention the specifics of his career, and Y/N talked about her work and the quaint village she called home.
"I have to admit," Y/N said after a while, "Monaco is beautiful, but it can be a bit overwhelming."
"I can imagine," Lando replied. "It's a different world here. But it does have its charm."
"It does," she agreed. "Especially today."
They reached her hotel much too quickly for Y/N's liking. She turned to face Lando, feeling an unexpected pang of sadness at the thought of their walk ending. "Thank you for walking me back," she said sincerely. "And for standing up for me. It means a lot."
"Anytime," Lando replied, his eyes meeting hers. There was a spark there, an unspoken connection that neither wanted to break just yet.
Impulsively, Y/N stood on her tiptoes and pressed a soft kiss to Lando's cheek. "Thank you," she whispered against his skin before pulling back.
Lando blinked in surprise, his hand touching the spot where her lips had been. "You're welcome," he said softly, his voice slightly hoarse.
Y/N smiled, feeling a flutter of excitement. "Maybe we'll see each other again before I leave?"
"I'd like that," Lando replied, his eyes shining with hope.
With a final wave, she disappeared into the hotel, leaving Lando standing on the steps, a smile playing on his lips. There was something about Y/N that he couldn't quite forget. As he walked away, he couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the last time their paths would cross.
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