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laneywrld · 7 months ago

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Oh Baby | Lewis Hamilton mini series

part one.

word count: 7.7k

Warnings: smut, absolute filth. breeding kink

Lewis can't help but want to give his best friend everything she desires. she can have whatever she wants.

You were Lewis' best friend; the world knew it. The world also saw that he admired you in a way he hadn't anyone else.

You'd been in Lewis' life since the two of you were literal babies. Your dad was best friends with Anthony, Lewis' father, so in a way, you two were destined to be the best of mates.

Sometimes, Lewis wishes he had the chance to meet you organically, but as quickly as that thought flickers through his mind, it is pushed away just as fast.

He would've been alone as a kid if you had come later in his life. But still, meeting you later would've changed the trajectory of your guy's relationship. He wouldn't be stuck in the constant lock of just being your "best friend."

He would continue to stick out his role and push through his torture if it meant you keeping him around.

Since you were kids, you two have been joined at the hip. You were always there to defend him at school when the bullies got to him. You were always down to follow his dreams with him, even if it meant convincing your dad to let you ride with his family to watch him go-karting in the sweltering heat. You were always there.

You still are, and maybe that's what's got his heart thrumming in his chest as he watches you dance with his brother Nicholas. The two of your hands are entwined as you sway to the music blasting from the speakers.

As Nicholas twirls you around, your eyes meet Lewis for a brief second, and you smile at him before you are faced with his brother again. You joke with Nicholas as the two of you dance, your head constantly turning to check on Lewis.

He loves how his family is your own and vice versa. He loves how you treat his brother with the same tender love and care that he does. He can't help but to admire everything you do, even if it's just including his brother in something as simple as dancing.

You give him a curious look as you sway with Nicholas. He only grins in return, raising his glass at you. He sees your eyes fleet over his shoulder, and then your mouth pierces together in a knowing smile. You tilt your head to motion behind him, and when he turns to follow your orders, he sees Laura approaching.

When he turns back to you, you are no longer dancing wildly with his brother but sitting comfortably with your friends, accepting the shot Miles pours for you.

Lewis shakes his head, turning to greet Laura. He shouldn't feel disappointed and he shouldn't feel an emptiness wallow in his gut at the mere fact that he can't watch you sway in the night. His girlfriend, (if you could even call her that), was approaching and he should be glad to see her, but he can't help but to relish in the fact that'd he'd rather observe you from a distance than be in her presence.

"Hey baby!" she cheers. " I'm sorry I'm late. I got hung up at the agency."

"S'fine." He smiles, embracing the hug. "Let's grab you a drink and then settle in with everyone."

Meanwhile you are trying your best to tame your friends and their instantly sour moods. "C'mon y'all. Be nice to the girl."

"Nice?" Whitney scoffs. "I don't like that lil' girl."

"Whit." You scold, "She's not for us to like; as long as Lew likes her, we support them, yeah?"

"Whatever," Miles piques up, "She not good enough for my guy?"

Always the wiser one, you shoot miles with a frown that shows your agreeance: "We can think that, but who are we to decide for him? Lew's not an idiot. When the time comes to make the right call, he'll make it, yeah?"

"Yeah." Daniel says, "But the only right call would be you."

You smack your teeth, reaching for another shot. "Here this nigga go on his shit again."

The table erupts in laughter just as Lewis approaches with Laura.

"Guys, you all remember Laura?"

"Do we?" Whit scoffs under her breath, downing a shot. The group breaks into fits of sniggering. You eye them with a look that screams, Act right! before turning to face Lewis and Laura in your seat.

"Laura, hi! girl!" You dragged.

Once again, you shoot your eyes across the group; one by one, they all push out fake ass hellos or a mumbled What's up.

Lew watches on as you turn to him, smiling. He can't help it as his own grows wider.

After the phony greeting, Lewis drags Laura to sit with him. The only open spot is the two-seater across from you.

Conversation is ablaze in the midst of the circle. You lean forward chatting with Laura for a while since no one else bothered. Lewis has his arm thrown over her shoulder but he is watching you. Like always.

"Oh, so you planned this gathering?" Laura questions.

"Isn't it obvious?" You joke. "Lew could never." You motion to the lights and grand decor located around the yard.

"Oh, please." Lewis smacks his teeth.

"Admit it, Lew. It's my thing. Tell me I did good."

"You did great." He smirks, leaning back, his legs spread in a way that has you ready to drool.

You divert your eyes, sitting back in your own seat.

"Y/N's so domestic, it's giving wife."

You squint your eyes at Whit, giving her the ultimate stink face.

"You're always going to be the stepmum to us Laura. We can't separate mum and dad." Mori speaks up.

There was an ongoing joke in your friend group that had been circling for years. You and Lewis were Mum and Dad, you two paired together so well that it was like watching the perfect marriage. Your friends referred to you as each others "hubby" and "wifey".

Still, your friends were beginning to get out of pocket, and you turned to Lewis expecting him to put an end to their shenanigans like any good dad would. He only smiles at you his eyebrows wiggling in a playful manner.

You feel your cheeks burn as he doesn't deny it.

"She is quite domestic, would make the perfect wife." Miles piques up from beside Lewis.

It's a scheme that you two were left out of, a plan made to force you two to realize your feelings for each other.

His words trinkle into Lewis' mind. He's always thought you'd make the perfect wife. He's thought about marrying you seriously plenty of times. It's also been a childhood dream of his to make it official, especially after having your own wedding ceremony at the playground under the monkey bars, commemorated by strawberry ring-pops and sand confetti that had both of your parents grumbling as they scrubbed your scalps clean that night.

He's only ever told Miles this, but he wishes he never got seriously involved that first time at all. He thinks he did it out of pure irrationality. You had your first serious boyfriend, and Lewis thought well shit. To him it seemed as though you'd never be that into him. So he spent seven years on and off with a woman he was unsure about when all he really wanted was you. He's wasted so much time.

He thinks back to the times where distance sprouted between you two. Nicole didn't like how close the two of you were, and you respected it even if he didn't want you to. He feels a bit like a dickhead thinking of all the times he lied to his ex telling her you were nothing more than a friend to him. It was obviously a lie. If it wasn't a lie he wouldn't have spent majority of his relationship trying to make you realize what it was you were missing. Hint: it obviously didn't work, or you'd be the girl under his arm right now.

"I'll be back in a few," you announce, standing from your seat. I'm going to go do my rounds. Give Lew a break." Lewis' stare was beginning to get intense, you could feel your little resolve crumbling the longer her stared into your soul.

He watches you stroll over to his dad and your dad, stepping in between them and wrapping your arms around their waist. He can't read your lips but can tell that whatever you said had the two doubled over in laughter. You pat their backs, trekking over to your next target.

You're a little ways away, refilling wine glasses at the "mum table." His mum has you saying something that leads to you smooching the top of her head as you pass by. You set the bottle on the table before suspiciously eyeing your mother and opting to pull it to the other end. Lewis lets out a chuckle, watching your antics.

It'd been awkward silence covering the group like a blanket since you'd left. Everyone watching Lewis, watch you.

You had convinced Lew to buy this house, practically begged him all of those years ago. "Lew, the backyard," you had marveled, hands outstretched at your sides. "Imagine hosting out here." You had gone on a rant, dragging him across each area of the yard and throwing out ideas for gatherings that didn't even exist.

He closed the deal that same day. He was glad he listened to you as he watched you light some sparklers for the group of kids. He watches you crouch down to his nephew's level, pressing him against your front as you direct the sparkler into his hand.

He couldn't see your face but could tell you were muttering words of encouragement into his ear.

You stand with a proud grin when he twirls the stick around confidently.

You turn as a small child tugs on your dress, "I'm thirsty, Auntie y/n/n."

You coo, picking up your friend's child. "Hi, mama! let's fix that for you." You pop her onto your hip, waltzing into the house from the open patio doors. She runs out moments later, a juice box snug in her hands. You follow after, arms full of the very same juice.

You crouch down as the children huddle around you. You poke each straw through the hole before passing them out one by one.

"Look at Mama Bear." Whit laughs as her eyes follow Lewis' line of sight. He is watching you with a smile and that classic sparkle in his eye that he always seems to have when it comes to you.

"She'd make a great mum, huh?" Lewis rasps out.

You're back at the fire pit before you know it.

"Yeah, Mori, you should totally let me kidnap your child next weekend."

"Have her girl, she's all yours." She scoffs, "badass little girl."

The group laughs, but Lewis can't help but notice the gloom flash over your face before it quickly washes away.

He knows about your desire to have a family. He remembers how you opened up to him about it after your last relationship ended, and you took it worse than you ever had before.

He remembers that day like it was yesterday.

You were a drunken, blubbering mess, sitting on his couch with puffy eyes and a blotchy face. "Ugh!" you groaned, reaching for the bottle to pour yourself another glass. He beats you to it, pulling it away and setting it down on the table at the end of the couch.

"Hey," he coos, his hand pulling you into his side as your lip wobbles. You can't help the outburst of tears for what feels like the 100th time.

"Let's talk about it, yeah? That might help a bit."

You had been friends for so long, and not once had he seen you this distraught. In fact, you were the one comforting him most of the time.

"I hate him," you whined, reaching up to cover your face. He got me over here looking stupid."

"Hey," he pulls your hand down, still holding you against him, just holding your hand down at your side as well. "Don't be embarrassed for feeling, ain't that what you tell me?"

"Yeah," you shudder.

"Now, talk to me."

"I wanted kids. I don't think i'm that hurt about him you know?" you don't give him time to answer, "I just feel like I'm not meant to be with someone, like love is not for me. Sometimes it seems like everyone has a person out there for them but me. I want a family of my own. I love my family and yours, but it's different." you cry harder then.

"I want a human to love unconditionally, I want babies, and I want to be a mom; I would make a great mumma."

"You would." He hums, his free hand coming up to wipe your face. You pull away turning to face him, your legs are crossed in front of you and he reaches forward grasping both of your hands in his.

He has one leg propped under the other, and his body is turned to face you. The way he's looking at you makes you want to break down into another fit of tears. No one pays attention to you as much as Lewis.

"Is there something wrong with me?" You ask, and you sound so broken that Lewis is fighting off tears of his own.

"You're perfect." He assures, and his hold on your hands grows tighter. "There's someone out there who loves you whole. Through and through, you hear me? There's nothing wrong with you, just the wrong people you've come across. You're going to get all that you want one day. He was an idiot anyway. What happened anyway, huh? What made him-."

"I left him." you interrupted, "which is crazy that i'm crying over him this bad but I could feel a disconnect between us, we were too different, didn't have the same end goal."

"You know what's beautiful about this?"

You look up to him with a baffled expression to say what the actual fuck is beautiful about being an emotional mess. He chuckles, swiping one hand against your wet cheek, where he settles his palm to cup your face.

"One day, when you get what you desire, you're going to appreciate it a whole lot more because of how much you had to go through to get it."

And if Lewis wasn't a scary idiot, he swore he'd given you a kid right there and then, hell, however many you wanted. He's always had a soft spot for you, giving you anything you could have remotely even thought about wanting. You mention wanting to visit Brazil, bam, you're on his private jet whisked away, you want a yard to throw family gatherings, the deed is signed. You complain about wanting specific cupcakes from your favorite bakery, he was out of town but it was nothing to have his assistant travel across town to place them at your door. The point is, he'd give you anything in a second. He's good for it and he'd give you his baby if you really truly wanted.

You look up to Lewis the same memory flowing through both of your minds, he shoots you a tiny smile, raising his glass in your direction. You return his expression sipping from your freshly filled wine glass.

Your smile blows him away; he can never control the way his heart lurches; you'd think after years and years, your charm would lose its effect on him, but somehow, they grow stronger and stronger as each day passes by.

He doesn't know how long his group of friends sit around the fire pit laughing and chattering along (you including Laura every chance you get, seeing as your other friends seem to have forgotten she exists.) Before he knows it his father is approaching. "Son, there's a million sleeping kids all over your house, I think that's our queue to pack it up."

At that announcement you guys' friends begin to pack themselves up. Lewis says his goodbyes. The group sniggers as Anthony shoots a "Nice meeting you Lauren."

"He called me Lauren," she pouts, "and I've met him before."

"Don't pay it any mind," you speak up balancing an armful of empty glasses, "he's got a bad memory."

You scold your friends, shooing them off as Lewis apologizes to Lauren, Laura.

After a while the house is empty and you say the goodbyes in place of Lewis. As you load the dishwasher you see them bicker back and forth through the large window.

You close the door, pressing start, deciding to stop evading their private conversation. You connect to Lewis' speaker, soft melodies bleeding through the house as you go room to room, collecting any foreign object that doesn't belong. You sit with Roscoe for a while after refilling his bowl, giving him kisses and rubs until his body vibrates with snores and then you are up and at it again finding anything to tidy.

You sing quietly to yourself you huff wiping the imaginary dust onto your dress. Just as you're going to sneak from the home, Lewis' voice halts you in your tracks.

"You're leaving?" His eyes are furrowed, and his face is scrunched up.

"I- uh yeah, I didn't know how long the two of you were going to be."

"You're not staying the night?"

Your eyes flicker between Lewis and Laura, "Um, no." you chuckle hoping he'd catch the hint.

As much as you loved Lewis and spending time with him, that love didn't cover listening to him fuck the brains out of his current fling.

"She's not staying," Lewis speaks up.

You are still frozen by the door, your hand holding onto the handle. You peek at Laura, her face covered in disdain.

Your mouth drops open and then closed, trying to figure out the words to articulate your desire to leave in order to avoid whatever weird tension is brewing.

"Bye, Lewis." Laura bites, her long legs striding past you quickly. You move to the side, and she slips through the door without saying so much as a word to you.

"Ooh," you whistle, watching as the door frame rattles from the intensity of the close.

"What's her problem?"

"Your friends are bitches Lew." He mocks in a whiny voice.

You laugh, clutching your chest, "They're a bit rude."

"Yeah," he sighs.

"For good cause," you continue.

"Yeah."

"I mean, I don't like the girl either, but as long as you don't mind what she did then-."

"You staying." Lewis interrupts. He really didn't feel like talking about Laura, especially since he was alone in your presence for the first time today; it was all he wanted for his birthday.

It'd been three weeks since he last saw you, and while the two of you talked on the phone and texted every single day, it'd never compare to actually being in your space.

You groan as he puckers out his bottom lip, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that always seem to convince you to do whatever he's asking for.

"Only because it's your birthday, and these heels hurt my feet so much, I don't really think I can drive."

"Oh please," Lewis laughs, "don't act like you don't wanna spend time with me. Excuses, excuses, excuses."

You waddle over to him, grasping onto his waiting arm as you bend at your knees to free your aching feet from said heels.

He takes the shoes from your hand, leading you up the stairs.

As the two of you approach his bedroom, you feel your excitement boil over.

When he opens the door, you speak up, "I figured what'd be a good gift for someone who literally has enough money to buy whatever he wanted. Then I remembered how much you miss home while you're away and came to the conclusion that money could never bring that kind of comfort."

Lewis sniffles as he looks at the array of gifts spread over his bed.

There is a stuffed Roscoe and Coco, a scrapbook that you'd dug into the archives to fill, letters from his family, your family, your friends, and an array of letters from you. Flowers, because to you, he deserved his more than anyone walking. You'd recreated his favorite ever birthday gift to him, a knit cheetah that you had your grandma help crochet with you for weeks before his seventh birthday. It's safe to say the OG had gone through a lot over the years. And finally, his first helmet from his carting career. He remembers his parents not being able to afford his helmet after buying him a game console for his birthday.

He remembers how upset he was but understanding of his parent's situation. He also remembers you leaving his party that night, face set in as much determination as it could be for a kid. The next day, you popped up with your dad shoving a brand new helmet adorned in a purple sticky bow into his arms. It'd been so many years since he'd last seen the helmet; as a teen, he'd gotten rid of so many things he considered to be junk, the helmet being one. But the older he got, the more he realized just how sentimental stuff like that was.

"You don't understand how hard I had to search through my Granny's attic for that. She always figured you'd want that back one day, pulled it right out of your yard sale that day."

Off to the side were stacked shoe boxes, a box from his jeweler, and a few designer bags.

He throws his arms over your shoulders, pulling you into his chest; he nestles his head atop of yours before he cranes to press multiple kisses to your hairline. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, know that, right?" He rasps.

"You wrap your arms around his waist pulling him in closer. "I love you Lew, happy birthday. You deserve it all."

You don't know how long the two of you stand their wrapped in each other's embrace before you part.

"You can shower in here; I'll hop in the guest."

"Unzip me?"

You turn giving him your back to face, you feel his hand reach up to gently swipe your hair over your shoulder, you shiver as his finger tips glide against the skin of your neck.

"I'm gonna unclip your necklace first," he announces, and his voice is raspier than usual. He gulps as he pinches at the golden clasp, reaching one hand around your front to catch the dainty piece of jewelry.

He places it into you waiting palm, and feels his hands get clammy as he holds onto your hip for leverage. Holding you into place as his other hand glides the zipper down your back. His mouth waters and his heart hammers at the sight of your glowy skin being reveled to him.

You hold the dress up at the front, staring at him from the mirror in the corner of his room. His eyes meet yours in the mirror and there is such a charged tension lingering between the two of you. There are no words spoken as the two of you revel in each others presence. Both of his hands are now on your hips as you fell yourself subtly lean back into him. His chains cool your back as you sink into him.

You smile at him through the mirror, "I really did miss you, but I have to shower. I'm sweaty, and I've been chasing kids around all day."

He chuckles, nudging you away but not before leaning over your shoulder, craning his neck in order to place a lingering kiss on your cheek that is almost too close to the corner of your mouth.

"Go shower, stinky."

You roll your eyes, treading into the bathroom and closing the door. You let out a sigh you didn't know you were holding.

Fuck, it was so challenging yet so exhilarating being in Lew's presence when all you want to do is strip him bare and have your way with him.

You put those thoughts aside and turned on the shower.

When you're clean and dry, you exit the bathroom in your robe (Lewis always keeps an extra for you), where you see Lewis sprawled across the bed, clad only in a pair of boxers. He watches you as you stride past, his head lies against the bed turning to follow your movements. He watches you disappear into his closet and exit, covered in his Mercedes t-shirt that falls down your thighs.

He lulls away the inappropriate images flowing through his mind and instead focuses on the fact that you're wearing his shirt to bed rather than any selection of your clothing piled in his dressers or hanging in your section of his closet.

He makes no attempt to move as you crawl up the bed towards him.

The scene is an absolute vision; he feels blood rush to his member, and he has to use all of his willpower not to let out the lewd groan he's containing.

You only smile at him, and you look so fucking beautiful and innocent he swears if you stare at him for any longer, he'd say fuck it all and pull you down underneath him.

He starts a mental countdown, but before he reaches one, you are flipping onto your back, his arm serving as a pillow as you fit comfortably against his side.

You turn your head to the right, seeing the bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Give me that." He passes it over, his lips turned up in a smirk.

You lift your head, taking a good bit down your throat before passing it back; he does the same.

"I've got to post you for your birthday!" You gasp excitedly. You two joke around as you upload to your pages.

y/u/n

liked by haileybeiber, landonorris and 1,472,872 others

y/u/n my favorite holiday, happy birthday lewlew, i love you to the moon and back, although you love to move through life fast I am always happy to spend slow days like this together with you cheetah, thank you for the lifelong memories and for sticking by me, i love you like no other <3

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whitwhit mum and dad ❤️ happy birthday pops

fencer Petition to make today a national holiday.

lewishamiton I love you more than life bunny, Thank you for today it was everything I needed.

lewishamilton

liked by mercedesamg, charles_leclerc and 3,563,986 others

lewishamilton Another one 🎂 Always a blast spending time with the people I love. Blessed to see another year surrounded by those I love. Special shoutout to bunny for the impromptu birthday celebration, every year that passes I am reminded of how we've gone through life together, always. Can't wait to spend many more years surrounded by love and happiness, thank you for the birthday wishes.

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user the way his post is full of him and y/n as kids. they really grew with each other 🥹

y/u/n cakes and candles my guy i luv uuuu

morismith +1 dad 🥳 child of a happy and healthy marriage

You two laugh as you scroll through your friends' comments. Somewhere along the line of you two passing the bottle back and forth, you began your own game of twenty-one questions, extra juicy, seeing as you two already knew damn near everything about the other.

"Hmmm!" you light up, "take a shot, or tell me why Nicki called you a weird little guy."

Lewis smacks his teeth but breaks into a fit of laughter as you turn over, propping your chin up against his arm. Your feet kick back and forth as you stare into him.

"You're messy." He declares, downing another shot.

You groan, reaching over his bare body to take the bottle. "And you're no fun."

"What's one thing you've never told anyone, including me? I mean deepest, darkest secret."

You hum again, allowing Lewis to reposition the two of you. Now he is rested against the headboard, and your head rests on his lap. You let out a gentle moan when his fingers begin to rub against your scalp—his member twitches in his boxers.

"Answer the question." He demands his hands, pushing your head forward slightly to avoid the feel of his growing penis.

Your eyes bore into his, and he could see you fighting to decide whether to tell him or not. He almost tells you to take your shot until the words tumble from your plush lips.

"I used to have the biggest crush on you for the longest time, like probably was in love with you." You admit. Your eyes never leave his and it has his heart beating rapidly in his chest. He feels many questions running through his mind and they want to tumble out like an avalanche but like the relaxed person he is, he plays it cool.

"yeah, and what happened to these feelings, bunny?"

You smile at the nickname, rolling your eyes as you scoff. Lewis always picked at your cute persona as a kid, calling you as sweet and timid as a bunny, the bunny teeth also didn't help.

"You almost got married," you answered. "Realized that a childhood crush was just that, I let it simmer for so long that I made it seem realistic. When you started considering taking things further, I think I closed that book, locked that door, and threw away the key. It was easy when you left her and started running rabid like a fucking dog." you snort.

He laughs with you, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "You calling me a slut?"

"If the condom fits." You tease.

He rolls his eyes, but deep down inside, he is in shambles over the chance with you that he's missed. And he's regretting every decision that led up to you losing those feelings for him. "Next question."

You're staring deep into his soul with those sparkly eyes again and he can't help but return the same lovey eyes back. He always feels like this with you, wholly enamored and floored by anything that you do.

You look so sweet and perfect that he doesn't expect the question that falls from your lovely mouth. "What's your favorite kink, like what's something that you do during sex that has you absolutely ready to go berserk?"

"You got a dirty mind, bunny." He teases, two fingers tapping against your temple.

"I've got a breeding kink, I think." He doesn't go into full detail, describing how he discovered it years ago when out shopping with you, and you passed through the baby aisle to shop for his newborn niece at the time. He doesn't describe how his pants tightened at the sight of you holding up cute little onesies or how his mind wandered to you laying spread out in his bed, being pumped full of his cum and loving it, begging for it. He doesn't tell you how he came the hardest he'd ever come in his life that night in his shower, imagining you plump with his child and a bright smile on your lips.

"Elaborate." There is a glint in your eyes as you observe him that urges him to finish his thoughts.

"It's something about loving someone so much that you want to fill them up with another part of you. You love someone so much that you want them to swell up with what is yours. Just fucking the cum back into them every time it slips out, one goal. Give someone my babies."

As he talks, his own words excite him; you can feel it, and you say nothing. The air surrounding you two is charged with such a lewd and sensual energy.

You throb between your thighs as he speaks to you, and his voice is getting deeper and deeper. He is hot and hard against your cheek; you stare up at him, your eyes leaving his own to trail the way his lips move to the way his jaw clenches, to the way his throat bobs all the way to his tatted, glowing chest. His words are getting to you. It's no secret that you, too, had a breeding kink, but hearing him say the words you wished to hear spoken to you in the midst of passion made you shoot into action. You are on his lap before you know it, mouth mushing against his in an instant.

He doesn't hesitate to return the favor; he separates your lips, gliding his tongue into your mouth, licking you open. You moan into his mouth, pressing yourself against him harder. He lets out a shaky breath through his nose, reaching one hand up to grasp the back of your neck and the other on your ass, pushing you impossibly closer to him.

You rock your hips against him, grinding down over him; he lets out a raspy groan, pulling away from your lips, his head falling to watch where your bodies connect; he lets out a moan as his grey briefs darken in color. You continue to glide back and forth over him

You swear you hear him whimper as you lift from his lap. He reaches to pull you back, but you are too fast; kneeling between his spread legs, the sight alone has him letting out another drawn-out whine. Your hand creeps up, rubbing him through the material. You were such a fucking vixen it was driving him mad. His head falls back against the headboard, and his eyes squeeze shut. You're barely doing anything to him, and it feels better than anything he's ever experienced, and he can only equate it to it being you.

You finally free him from his confines, and his head drops down to view you, and his jaw falls slack.

You jerk him up and down, your thumb swiping over the slit at the head of his perfect cock. You moan at the sight, and he twitches. You kiss at the top, staring at him through your lashes, and he swears he almost burst right then and there. Your lips are shiny with spit and you're practically drooling over him. As you place kisses up and down his shaft. You finally slip him into your mouth humming as you taste him. It has his legs spasming making you jostle a little.

You pop him from your mouth, giving him a cute smile that has him throwing his head back. She's going to fucking kill me.

You're moaning over him, driving him absolutely fucking insane. Lewis watches you through clouded eyes, his hand traveling to your hair. He pushes you lower and lower until you're shoving all of him down your throat, and then he pulls you off for air. You smile up at him going down again, and he lets out the nastiest moan you've ever heard.

"So fucking greedy for my dick." You'd never heard him speak like this, and it was scrambling your brain and your insides. "Mhmm," you moan over him. He holds onto your hair with his left hand, his right hand trailing to pull up the shirt that adorns your beautiful body. The higher he raises the shirt, the more unstable he becomes; the black panties cover barely anything, and when he continues to glide his hand up your back, your breasts hang loosely. He fondled them in his hand tweaking your nipple.

He tenses up, watching you take him down your throat like a champ, "fuuckk."

He pulls you up for the last time, leaning down to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. He thrust up into nothing. His tongue finds it's way into your mouth and moves along with you in the most sensual kiss you'd ever gotten in your life.

"Lew." you whine, and it has him tensing again. This was better than he'd imagined. For years for his entire life he'd pictured this moment, played it out in a million different scenarios and they don't even measure up to this.

He was harder than he'd ever been and ready to finish at the mere sight of you looking up at him with his cock stuffed in your mouth.

"I can't- I won't last-" He is breathless, and his chest is falling up and down harshly. He looks so perfect, face tinted red and lips red and plump.

"Fuck me then," you order, and it flips a switch in him.

He'd dreamed of this moment, and he would be damned if he let his mind fuck this up for him. He pulls the large shirt from your frame and flips you over, laying you gently on your back. He hikes your legs up, spreading them open and pressing them down. Your knees touch the bed flat at your sides, and you mewl as his tongue flatly glides against your core.

You shiver and shake as he sucks you up. You can't stop squirming as he literally eats you. You moan his name over and over, hands coming down to clutch his curls. He moans against your core, pressing you down harder. You quiver in his hold, and you can feel that ball inside you, ready to burst. "Come for me, baby, let it out." He urges kissing your clit. He sucks it into his mouth, and that's when it happens.

The best orgasm you've had in your life. He licks you through it before sitting up on his knees. He still has you spread open at his mercy, and the sight below him has him stroking himself above you.

"So fucking pretty." he rasps, "ready for me?"

You nod, so fucked out that words seem impossible to you.

He chuckles, his hand coming up to hold you open as his other directs his hard dick to your hole; he pushes the head in at first, hissing as you suck him in. "Mhhm," he moans, "want me so bad, huh?"

You mewl, trying to push your body up to push him in.

"Aht, aht." he pushes his hand against you harder. "Let me take my time, make it right for us, yeah. Been wanting this forever."

His words make you gush more and more; you'd never imagine that Lewis, of all people, was this vocal during sex.

"He lets go of himself, both hands now gripping your thighs that are still burning against your chest. He stares deep into your soul as he pushes himself in an inch just to ease out just as slowly.

"Gotta stretch this pretty pussy out first, huh? So fucking tight." he coos.

Your eyes fall closed, your mouth going slack as he slides in again. "It's your dick, baby. All yours."

"C'mon bunny, wanna see your eyes, wanna watch you take me." You open your eyes breaths leaving you as little hitches as he finally fills you up.

"He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, his eyes watching where the two of you connect. "Fits so good," he groans, "made jus' for me."

You only mewl and clench the sheets.

"So pretty," he drops your legs, propping himself up on an elbow; his weight covers you like a security blanket. "Mhmm." he moans, sliding in and out of you. Your walls were suffocating him, sucking him in and trying to keep him in place. His face is scrunched up in pure pleasure as he succumbs to your velvety walls. So fucking warm and wet.

"Love this pussy." he groans before his mouth is back on yours.

"Say it's mine," he orders pulling back, he is towering over you again, one hand clutching your face to watch him watch you.

You only moan, equating his words to being in the moment even though they have your stomach doing flips.

"Say it's mine, baby, and I'll give you what you want."

It's like he hit a switch in you, brought out a side of you that you've never been able to release.

"It's yours," you coo, "all yours, only yours."

His eyes shine at your words, pressing a quick peck to your lips.

"Nobody can give it to you like me, they don't deserve it, been so good to you. Hmm. Can give you everything you want."

One hand travels down to your stomach, where he presses down, "Feel me in there?"

"yes." you gasp, eyes rolling back; the sex is no longer slow and sensual. He is pounding into you so hard that your body lurches up and down the bed, and your breast bounces with every thrust.

Lewis Hamilton is a dirty man, you conclude watching his lips fall open from the dirty smirk he'd had it in.

"Got something else to put in there." You clench around him tighter curses falling from his mouth as he stills inside of you.

You know he is only in the moment, this whole debacle started because of his admission of a praise kink, you know he's playing along with yours, he wants to get you there in the same way you want to get him there so you play along.

"I want it." you whine, "want it all."

Lewis thought it was impossible for him to get any hornier, but once again, you've proven him wrong.

"Want you to fill me up, want to be full of you." You play on his words from earlier. "Want all of you."

He moans once again, spreading you open. He is plowing into you. Loud grunts left his throat as he digs deeper and deeper into you. He can feel every crevice of your flesh as you swallow him.

"Gonna give you what you want, make you big and full, have you carrying my babies. Going to have what you always wanted, love."

Your eyes fall shut at his words in utter bliss.

He lays on top of you, the burn of your thighs spreading. His hands travel to your own, holding them on either side of your head. His head is nestled between the crook of your neck; he's sucking and licking along your neck. You feel him everywhere.

"mmph," you moan as he reaches and punches against your sweet spot over and over.

Lewis is so fucked out in a loving haze that he can't control the words tumbling from his lips onto your skin.

"Wanted this forever, so long." He whimpers, "Feel so good, only wanna feel you. Only wanted you."

You free one hand from his hold wrapping it around to rub at the curls at the nape of his neck. You want him to keep talking, keep feeding you the words you've waited your whole life for him to say. "I can give you everything you want, baby."

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, and you can't tell if it's from the pleasure he's giving you or the words he's dribbling out.

"Taking me so well, fuck!" he sits up on his knees again, turning you over without pulling out of you; you're on all fours as he plows into you from behind.

"So mean, making me wait so long, letting me be with the wrong woman, should've been you." You clench around him eyes squeezing shut, you shouldn't enjoy these words as much as you do but you can't help it.

"Wanted it to be you, would've had our family by now, so many kids, so happy." You're literally shaking, the fire growing inside of you, making it impossible to ward off your second orgasm.

"Been looking for you in all these women, never were you, never could be. Fucking couldn't get hard without imagining your face. Always had to be you." He sounds so vulnerable and open behind you. You want to see his face so badly, and you want to watch him as he admits what you've always desired.

Like he read your mind, he flips you over again, nestling between your legs and pushing himself in again with a hiss, "Gotta see your face when you come, love."

You're on top of him, relishing in the way he looks up at you. Your thighs are placed on either side of him lifting over and over as he glides in and out of you.

He looks so beautiful, you think even if he is spitting out the most wild and lewd words you've ever had spoken to you. "Gonna empty this dick in you baby, give you my baby. Make you mine, all mine." He growls.

"Could've had this all along if you said something sooner, bunny. Would have had you feeling like this all of the time."

His hands are on your waist, lifting you up and down over him. You fall forward one hand holding you up and the other reaching down to cup his jaw. You press your lips over his, breathless pants traveling from one mouth to the other. The eye contact is intense as you stare each other down. His eyes literally sparkle as he fuck up into you, his mouth dropped open. You kiss him one last time before sitting up again and setting your own pace, "Fuck Lew, you feel so good."

You're bouncing on him at a much slower pace as his eyes fall closed and his grip tightens on your flesh.

You're not responsible for what you say when you cum, it's common knowledge, which is why when Lewis flips you over and barrels into you at a much softer pace you let his words carry no penalty, albeit the way they make your eyes water, albeit the way you return them truthfully.

It's so overwhelming you can't help the way the tears flow from your eyes and slide onto the sheets. He's cumming in spurts, hot and gooey, filling you to the brim. Lewis has never come so much. He lets out an array of grunts and moans. He's so out of it that he lets his words tumble out without a care in the world, and he means them wholly. He's fucking his cum into you, pushing it back in with his dick as you quiver around him.

"Love you, fuck, I fucking love you."

#lewis hamilton #x black reader #lewis hamilton x black reader #f1 #formula 1 #formual one #lewis hamilton imagine

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wonryllis · 9 months ago

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𝜗𝜚 'OH' I LOVE LOVE HER?

╰ 𝖺𝗅𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗒, 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗎𝗇.

𝒏o𝓉ℯs. enhypen realizing it's you 𖥔 ݁ rom-fluff, kinda poetic? LIB? fem!reader requested word count ` 1945

꒰˵ˊᯅˋ˵꒱ love how this turned out!! <3. unedited!

𝐋𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐆

he doesn't know much about love, he's never really experienced it yet. he has fallen for conventional and unconventional things, things that compliment and things that complete, he's been through the good phases and stuck through bad ones, he held on to things he shouldn't and let go of things he should.

there are a lot of lessons he has learned along every relationship he has been in the lines of yet lee heeseung doesn't believe he's ever been in love until he has been with you.

it wasn't something he knew he felt, but it was surely something he realized in the spur of a moment, in a split second of epiphany. he knew what he felt for you was something deep when he realized that yes he wouldn't hesitate to die for you, but what he wants is to live for you. it's easy to be the first to go but to hold your strength through everything and survive for someone, that is definitely love is what heeseung believes.

"baby, baby calm down i'm okay," he reassures your crying and frantic figure as you scan his injuries, ones he got from trying to protect you from a fatal fall. perhaps it was the situation or perhaps it was realisation of it all.

when he jumped to saved you all he could think about was he'd give his life if it meant you lived, but in this moment he cannot bear to see you so devastated, to think he could've left you like this? no, he's decided he is never going to do it until he can't help it and even then he'd fight to stay with his love.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆

he has lived his life prioritizing his family over everything else. to him nothing can go above and beyond familial love. he doesn't really believe he can love anyone anything like he loves his family and that is a statement of disappointed in itself. if there's anything he wants to give his best for it's people who have stuck with him since day one.

bonds need to tested by time is the belief he holds dear until his world crashes into yours and time changes from something that defines to something that builds. his relationship with yours is not as long as people he's close to but however long you have spent together seems to strengthen and augment the bond.

his love for you settles into an understanding of his when finds you running through days and nights in the hospital caring for his family after a big blow. a choice to choose, not an obligation to carry out. a crack in his notions you give him a new definition of love.

"y/n? baby come on go and freshen up, i'll watch over mom," his hand rests on your head, soft caresses to wake you up after the long night you spent sitting beside his mother while he ran around for paperwork.

as you leave the room in a rush wanting to come back quickly and take his place so that he can get his rest, jay finds himself seeing you in a new light, telling his mother that he's found an angel. the angel she always told him about, the angel he loves.

𝐒𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐀𝐄��𝐔𝐍

he has spent years jumping from person to person, reveled and basked in moments of happiness and run away amidst the weights of problems. there is a price to pay for everything and love is no exception but he has yet to accept the fact of reality, the thorns that come along with the scent and beauty of roses.

love gives and love takes, love heals and love hurts. it takes several trials and a meeting with you for jake to understand that.

to him it is a conscious decision, a hard hit and an opening of eyes when he realizes you're the one for him. he has never made it work until you, coming to the conclusion in the middle of the worst argument that you're worth all the trouble. and if wants to have you by his side, he needs to fix this and he needs to cherish you.

he can see himself with you for the rest of his life, one single person he is willing to fight for. for jake sim you are a sphere of acceptance, you redefine love and endurance for him.

"one day we're gonna have kids together and i want them to see that daddy really loves mommy, i'll change for the better i promise," jake's voice softens as he hits the big realization, getting down on his knees, tears falling free. your arms slip around him in a hug and jake swears he'll do all it takes to become the one for you, he'll do all it takes to make this worth it, he'll do all it takes to have you stay. because he's found the one he loves, the one he wants to be his best for.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐍

he has always felt a gaping hole in his chest, a feeling of homesickness even when he is home, a feeling of vanity even when he shines bright soaring through all the achievement of his dreams. to him there's something that's always missing.

no he has never thought of love but he has never despised it either. he doesn't dwell on the possibilities of it but the absence and lack of them. until you enter his life completing him like a perfect piece of puzzle, a missing piece of him.

he realizes his love for you in bits and moments of warmth, slowly step by step as you fill the void. from helping him through his hard times and cheering him on in his good ones, sunghoon finds his home in you, a walk so long but finally arriving at it's destiny, where it's always been meant to be.

perhaps he's always longed for love and never understood it. nevertheless, park sunghoon finds it in his moments of mundanity with you. you teach him the power of the presence of love.

"my little charmie, loved your pretty banner," sunghoon leaves a wet kiss on your lips, arms going around your waist as he comes rushing to you a second after winning the championship, cameras all panned on the champion of the season but all he can see is you. you feel like a warm hug on a rainy day, a blanket of comfort near the fireplace. all the anxiety he ever felt, the pressure to be on the top, you took it all and turned it into something beautiful and enjoyable.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎

he has grown up surrounded and so bathed in love, he thinks he knows it all, he has seen it all. every version of love, and everything that exists in between. so confident he'd know it instantly, the one for him, the love of his life.

but love takes time and love find it's loopholes. someone that evokes no romantic feelings could become everything in just a turn of events. kim sunoo never believed or cared to understand that until he felt that something for you. that little upturn of sparkles and butterflies, that intense emotion kindling in his heart when he sees you in a new ambience. a single moment of revelation when he's staring at you talk about things that you love, things that he doesn't like but suddenly he doesn't mind hearing about it.

he knows he hasn't felt this way before for you, there's something different and that difference makes him rethink his entire relationship with you. you become so important to him in a split moment, love so familiar and calm yet unfamiliar and exciting.

"go on i'm listening," sunoo has his head on his hands, eyes shaped crescents, a gaze so loving anyone can see how he feels, so transparent.

the tiny flowers behind you would look so pretty on you, no- you look so much prettier than the flowers, your voice is so pretty, the way your lips move, the way your eyes light up, has sunoo always loved hearing about legos? no. has he always loved listening to you? he doesn't know but he could hear you talk forever.

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐉𝐔𝐍𝐆𝐖𝐎𝐍

he is one who sees love in everything around. the little things and the big things. in the light and in the dark. in memories of the past and in possibilities of the future. there is not a specific instance where he realizes his feelings. to him you are the premonition of love. he knew it from the very moment he met you that you are the one he is going fall in love with. that inner instinct that instantly sparked up when you entered his life.

every day and every second it grows, it piles up, it escalates. the weight of life and the wings of love you make everything easier. one who has always given meeting one who gives back to him.

overwhelmed in an ocean of new eternal verities, a feeling so mad, blind and passionate he finds himself wanting to be bound to you by his every bone. if there's a forever then he wants to spend it with you taking walks by the river, watching the lantern festival with a smile on your faces, so sick in love it makes everyone else sick.

"i wish this wish comes true," jungwon whispers to himself as he watches you walk ahead of him, turning back time and again to tell him how far your lit lantern made with a pretty little smile on your face. he wants to see this everyday, every morning, every night till however long he can and if possible even in his afterlife and all the lives that come ahead.

to be the one to be chosen by you because he for one will always choose you in all forms of reality and at every chance,"baby wait up for me, let's go together!" hand in hand all along.

𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐑𝐈𝐊𝐈

he has always found himself struggling to express his emotions, words and actions alike. something so inherent in him, he can't seem to overcome it. the sheer desperation to get his feelings through to someone, he's never felt it. he hasn't ever felt the need to feel it. to connect so closely with another is not something he has ever been comfortable with or wanted to be comfortable with.

until you happened and riki's world went through a turmoil of sentiments, wrecking him from inside so intensely he could never go back to before. love is something he has never experienced and something he could never fathom.

it just never made sense to him, how one could feel so much solely for another. but in moments of his silence where you struggled to understand it all, he realized the importance, the willingness to learn to express his feelings.

your tears and your smiles he wanted to be the one to comfort and the one you showed your happiness to. the one you love and the one he loves.

"i've never said this before but you are so special to me, what i feel for you is something i've never felt for anyone else and i don't wanna lose you by not letting you know that. i'm wanna learn to show you that again and again,"

riki smiles through his tears letting himself be vulnerable before you, as you hold the little handmade gift he got. your own tears threatening to fall while you nod vigorously reaching forward to let him know it'll all be okay.

TAGLIST ( open. ) @kangseulgithegreat @s00buwu @luvyev @pockyyasii @nctislifue @ashtxrie @miniature-tragedy @jayujus @nanabbg @thoughtsmeander2tumblingblindly

#enhypen imagines #k-labels #YALL BETTER LOVE IT I EXPIRED ALL MY CREATIVITY ON THIS #enhypen headcanons #enhypen reactions #enhypen fluff #enhypen drabbles #enhypen scenarios #enhypen soft hours #enhypen soft thoughts #enhypen heeseung imagines #enhypen jake imagines #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen sunghoon imagines #enhypen sunoo imagines #enhypen jungwon imagines #enhypen niki imagines #enhypen x reader

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georgeclarkesgf · 6 months ago

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forgetful | george clarke

the minute george stepped into the flat, he knew something was off.

"y/n? you here?" walking further into the flat, he found y/n in the kitchen making herself a cup of tea, "hey, sorry i'm back so late. we missed t-"

"don't. i can't believe you. all i asked was that you not plan to film today and i wake up to a message telling me you've gone to film a video for arthur. do you even know why i asked you to stay home today?"

he was trying to remember, really he was. but his mind was blank and the guilt began to seep in, only just noticing the tears that left stains on her cheeks.

"no. of course you don't. my parents are in town george. i planned a nice lunch, maybe go on a walk, come back to the flat for a few drinks, but all that went to shit because you left to film a stupid video and then ignored my messages all day. you know how important it is to me that you get along with my parents so having to cancel on them last minute because you weren't even here was not something i wanted to have to do." the tears in her eyes were threatening to fall again, hating how needy and pathetic she sounded.

"we can sti-" george tried, again quickly being shut down.

"no george, i'm mad at you. you don't get to say it'll be alright and that we can still do something. we're not playing happy families. you've hurt me. when we sort this out, then we organise something else."

now the guilt was in full swing and he immediately started to think of ways he could make it up to her, knowing it would take a lot of grovelling to get back onto her good side.

"i'm going to bed, i love you." a soft kiss being placed on his lips.

"i love you too." slight relief evident on his face, knowing she'll never not say 'i love you', even during an argument.

she rounded the kitchen island, starting to make her way to his room and get ready for bed. george watched as she closed the door, still stood in the kitchen, contemplating whether to follow her or give her some space.

he decided on the latter.

--------

it was nearing midnight when george decided he needed some sleep, and the dip in the bed as he got comfortable was enough to wake y/n, a groan leaving her lips.

"sorry. i didn't mean to wake you," she let out an agitated hum of acknowledgement and rolled over, curling into george's side, unable to resist the heat his body always provided, "still mad at me?"

"yep." she responded, accentuating the 'p'.

"okay. can we talk about it?"

"i've said my peace. you go."

"i really am sorry sweetheart, i feel awful," her nails were running along the lines and dips of his stomach, a habit he'd grown accustomed to over the several months they'd been together, "the video was planned ages ago and i didn't even realise the dates clashed. when you reminded me of 'that thing' that was happening today i thought you meant filming. i promise to make it up to you. and your parents. please say they don't hate me."

george hoped it was enough, not that he wouldn't do anything she asked to get her to forgive him, but he couldn't stand the thought of her staying mad at him.

in y/n's head, he was forgiven. during her time alone, she realised she didn't even give him a chance to explain before locking herself in his room for the rest of the night.

"i'm sorry too," george was slightly taken aback by this, unsure what she was apologising for, "i shouldn't have stormed off like that. not even letting you speak before i disappeared all night. and my parents don't hate you. we can do dinner tomorrow if that's okay with you?"

"that's more than okay. i have my whole day free to spend with you and them. we can do whatever you guys want. i love you."

"i love you. so much. even if you are forgetful."

and george stuck to his promise. safe to say y/n's parents like george more than her.

a/n have this as an 'i'm sorry i haven't posted in a while present' <3

#george clarke #george clarkey #arthurtv #chaoscrew #sidemen #arthur hill #tiktok #george clarkey x reader #george clarke x reader #blurbs #george clarkey imagines #george clarke imagines #blurb #youtube #youtuber imagine #youtuber x reader #youtuber imagines #george clarkey imagine #george clarke imagine

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i-like-media · 10 months ago

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I imagine Donna to still eventually ask what the doctor has been up to. Maybe she does so while they're stuck doing a chore together like the laundry or dishes. And the doctor will try to avoid it like he always does, but caves under Donna's stare. He'd still keep it vague, speaking more about the companions the toymaker spoke of and cautiously daring to honour their memory like that while keeping himself away from the hurtful bits. He even jokes a bit about who he ended up becoming. He'd admit he had an obsession with bowties and had sonic sunglasses once, and Donna would laugh and say she'd LOVE to see that.

Then, after a pause, Donna asks if he's ever stumbled upon her with a different face, and with a hushed breath he admits he hasn't.

She grows a bit silent, grieving a thought she wished were reality. And then the doctor pipes up again.

"This isn't actually the first familiar face I've gotten...-WELL not another one of my OWN faces, but certainly something familiar."

Intrigued, Donna stops what she's doing and listens to him explain further.

"When I first got it I couldn't place where I'd gotten it from. I just, knew it was familiar...... -I didn't linger on it as long as I should've and I moved on rather quickly."

"Why?" Donna asked, a bit bewildered at the thought of it.

"I was careless and angry and sort of... Scottish.-ANYways one day me and Clara were dragged to this viking village that had gotten itself into trouble, and we helped them. But this village girl had, uhm... Well she didn't make it. I was so angry -I remember that anger really well. And Clara kept on asking if there was something I could do..."

"Well, was there?" By now both of them weren't doing their chores anymore and all they could hear was the singing of a couple of starlings outside.

"...Yes, but it would've broken some rules."

Donna already knew what exactly he meant by that. She would figure that's the end of it, yet the doctor kept on talking.

"But then as I was rotting in my defeat, I remembered this important day I shouldn't ever have forgotten. The day we were in Pompeii... And only then did I realise that face, MY face, was a reminder of something very important you told me. To just, save someone."

"...So you mean, your face..." The doctor nodded, and Donna couldn't help but finally release the breath she'd been holding with a smile.

"I did save her and she ended up living a long, long, longlonglonglonglong life... But even after hundreds of years, when I doubted myself and needed it most, Donna Noble... Your impact on the world and my life, persisted."

And I imagine the doctor to give her a big, proud smile, before Donna pulls him in for a big hug he wasn't expecting to receive. Because maybe, just maybe, that was exactly what she needed to hear that day.

Then once they return to their chores, I imagine Donna to think about it a bit longer and make a comment. "Well you better never take on my face!" And the doctor would dissolve into a pouty ramble about how he has no control over it while also being a bit disappointed she's said no.

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admiringlove · 1 year ago

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[4:02]

you could hear your heart, thumping loudly in your ears as you lay bare-bodied in his arms. the covers are cozy and the air is cold, whilst his embrace brings you warmth. his breath fans over your forehead as you, in a sleepy haze look aimlessly at the wall.

gosh, you wish you could turn the time back.

to when, exactly? when did any of this start? a few hours ago, when the two of you were just best friends watching a movie together? not quite, you think. because in truth, you have never been just best friends with suna rintarō. you have always been something more. the line between friends and something has always been blurry, too.

so when could you go back to? that day last month, when he started seriously flirting with you after his relationship with that pretty girl majoring in english ended? you knew he was messing around. as his best friend, you were privy to these things. suna was the type of boy to take his life lightly when it mattered the most. perhaps he regretted it later, but you'd never know. you never knew what thoughts juxtaposed in his mind. the most you could do was predict his actions. which of course, almost always have shitty fucking consequences.

maybe you'd go back to the really rainy day last year, when it was pouring so harshly that the two of you got stuck at the bus stop downtown. sitting together, thighs touching and hands clasped against one another, shivering against the cold while being inches apart from the other's lips. what a day that was. you finally understood that day that you could never really move on from him even if you tried your hardest. he would simply always be there. rin had that effect on people where he would linger like the scent of a cigarette—not leaving someone's mind for days on end.

or really, should you be going back to that time in high school when you first developed a crush on him? walking home together while talking about volleyball, or watching the videos he took of the twins fighting, sharing chuupets and being excited about indirectly kissing. gosh, those were really the days, weren't they? when you'd get giddy when he simply called your name.

yet here you were. in his bed, staring at the off-white wall, wondering if you could ever go back to being those two hopeful kids. maybe you should have pushed him away when he cuddled close. or maybe you shouldn't have come here at all. but you did. you gave and you gave because that's in your nature. and suna? he's a taker, of course. he never took you for granted though. it's what made you trust him with your life.

your heart still thumped loudly, almost banging in your ears. regret is what you felt—because after all these years, all you were good for was some cheap sex around a month and a half after his break-up. it felt filthy to you. maybe not to him, because he laid next to you, sleeping soundly. your mind, however, would not stop running. it's like suna never got tired of being the most important person in your life. your life almost revolved around him, but at the same time, it didn't.

you slowly turned, not wanting to disturb his sleep. in hindsight, you should have just taken his arm off. but you didn't. you choose the hard way out. because his touch would feel like pity that he takes upon you—perhaps that's why you felt so cheated. never in a million years had he looked upon you in this way, even if his words meant something utterly different. you knew he couldn't see you in this light because you were innocently present throughout his life. he probably saw you more as family than the unholy sins you've committed tonight.

you're finally not facing him, your body barely being covered because suna hoards the covers. you sigh, sitting up. the digital clock on the nightstand reads that it is four-twenty-six in the morning. it pains you to stand and get dressed in such a way. you watch him as you swiftly pull on your jeans, and walk out of the room. one glance is all you allow yourself. because you know it's better not to look. it's better not to give into your deepest desires, since you know that none of them will come true anyway. you grab your things and muster up the courage to leave him like that—alone, and bare.

"what're you doing?" you flinch when you hear it. the croaky, yet deep enough voice that sounds almost hazy like a midsummer fever dream. you turn, eyes glassy and lips parted. he looks at you with squinted eyes and a yawn, as he scratches his head. his hair is inevitably a mess, and he adorns nothing but a pair of sweatpants that hang loosely at the lower part of his hip.

"nothing," you mumble, "i just remembered that i have a busy day so i should probably go."

god, stop talking. you wanted to choke yourself. he looked at you as if you'd said something stupid. and suddenly, you felt like a child in front of him.

"you told me you have nothing to do today before we," he clears his throat, "y'know."

"yeah, and now i have things to do," you say, firmly. you want to stand your ground. you refuse to be a puppet in his games. and you refuse to be pitied. suna was always a puzzle to you, finding ways to keep you coming back for more as if he were some sort of sick addiction.

"oh," he says. he's leaning against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest as he watches you grab your things. you look back at him as you sling the bag over your shoulder, car keys jingling in your left hand. he sighs, "well, i won't stop you if you're busy."

that's the thing. you want him to stop you. you want him to grab your wrist just as you're about to leave, and whisper something to you that'll make you stay. you yearn for him to say something. anything. even if it's blatantly platonic and hurtful, you want him to part his stupidly soft lips and stop you. but he does not.

he stays there, watching you walk out of his apartment. the bitterness in your throat spreads across your body, filtering its way deep into your heart. it hurts so much that the pain becomes physically invasive as you sit in the driver's seat of your car and go through the lonely roads. he still lingers like a tattoo kiss in your mind, and you feel idiotic for thinking he could ever love you. the bitter realization that his heart beats for another would underscore your every interaction, like a discordant note in your sweet, imaginative and one-sided symphony. an out-of-tune symphony, perhaps.

and you think, maybe that was all suna was meant to be. someone who uses you so much that you have nothing left to give anymore. you'll always be the peasant that's on their knees, and he'll be the aristocrat that stands up tall with a smirk on his face—ready to take what he wants at all costs.

to yearn, and yet not be yearned for in return, to love, and yet not be loved in return; this was the dreadful burden born in secret tonight, a cruel punishment for your heart that dared to dream of more than just a mere friendship with him. an almost silent agony, etched in the bitter sweetness of love unreturned, in the silence of a night shared with suna rintarō who was simply, devastatingly, just a friend.

based off this request. part two to this fic is now available.

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soapsilly · 10 months ago

Text

My Kind of Woman - Roronoa Zoro Imagine

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Summary: Zoro being love drunk - and also a little drunk drunk - for (Y/N). A short story inspired by Mac DeMarco - My Kind Of Woman.

Requests are closed

************************************************************************

It was late... or rather early? Did it really count as the next morning when you never even went to sleep? There weren't very many people left - most of them had already gone home or were passed out. Nothing unusual for the feasts the Straw Hats would have regularly after a big fight. The huge bonfire had gone out hours ago but there embers still glimmered red and hot. Somewhere, Brook was still playing a song on his guitar. It was slow and almost sultry.

Zoro was more than a little buzzed as he watched (Y/N) drunkenly sway to the music. He was mesmerized by her. The way her hips moved to the music so perfectly. Her eyes were closed as she listened to the tunes, a small smile present on her face. He knew she was dancing for herself only, not to impress any of those men that were there this evening, not even for him. That didn't stop the swordsman from still watching the woman intently though. Zoro sometimes couldn't believe the effect she had on him. All the little nicknames, the nights they spent together, small kisses and hidden touches. It was all so foreign to Zoro but strangely he didn't mind at all.

"Here", she pushed something in his hands.

"What's this?", he blinked a few times.

"My wanted poster. It has a picture of me on it... It'll last longer", she winked at him.

The swordsman grinned stupidly as he unfolded the paper in his hands.

He took another swig of his drink, letting the taste linger in his mouth, watching the way her arms snacked themselves around herself in a soothing hug, a bottle of liquor dangling in her hands. He wasn't a dancer but his mind almost automatically imagined himself in her arms, swaying to the music. Oh, the things she did to him...

She was everything for him. How could a woman like her ever stay with a guy like him? He was stubborn. A brute. Not romantic in the slightest. And yet she was always by his side, making sure he ate, slept, rested. That shitty cook liked to remind Zoro that she was too good for him every chance he got - any maybe he was right - but as long as she would have him he'd do everything for her.

"Are you serious? You need to rest! Your wounds haven't even healed properly and here you are training again already! I'm not gonna stay and watch you kill yourself"

"Leave then, I never asked you to be here anyways", Zoro regretted the words as soon as they left his lips.

"You're an idiot, do you know that?", she told him before leaving the room.

He was sure he had permanently fucked things up with her this time, kicking himself over it, but in the evening (Y/N) came up to him.

"You shouldn't talk to me this way"

"I'm sorry", he meant it. He really did. He expected her to tell him to get lost, to not talk to her again but instead she hugged him. He didn't understand why she stuck right next to him, but he didn't dare to vocalize his thoughts, afraid of putting ideas in her head.

As if under a spell, he made his way over to her. He would blame the alcohol in the morning but he knew it was her that had this intoxicating effect on him. He knew the guys would tease him for his public display of affection but he didn't care. All he cared about right now was (Y/N). When he hugged her from behind, she didn't even hesitate as she turned around nuzzling her face in the nape of his neck.

"Didn't take you for a dancer"

"Couldn't help myself "

For a moment the two of them just stood there, swaying to the music, enjoying each others company.

"'M tired...", she mumbled into his shoulder.

"Want me to bring you back to the Sunny?", he leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke.

"Only if you join me"

She didn't have to ask twice as he easily scooped her into his arms to carry her back to the Sunny. He'd never understand how he deserved a woman like her. He never was the romantic type but with her it was different. She was his kind of woman.

#roronoa zoro x reader #one piece imagine #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro imagine #one piece x reader #one piece

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cosmal · 2 years ago

Note

phoebe bridgers — send me a headcanon or a prompt + a character, and i’ll write you a blurb!

remus telling you you look so cute(or hot, you decide the vibe) while you study

study

summary remus thinks you shouldn't study and have him around at the same time. especially when you look like that.

note also yes hi old 3k celly ask

content remus lupin x fem!afab!reader

You scramble for something decent to wear when you hear someone at your door. Whoever it is, knocks again, still as light as the first but you still hurry. You decide on the long raincoat hanging over the rack by your front door.

You slip it on with a squeak of synthetic materials and cover your front, the bottom of your bare legs poking out where it stops mid-thigh. They knock again and you push it to the back of your mind.

You push your hair behind your face and open the door just a peak. You’re relieved to find it’s only Remus.

“Jesus Christ, Remus,” you pant, letting your hands fall to your sides. The coat stays stuck in place.

“Hey, dove,” he laughs, smile just shy of teasing, lips curled to the side. “You alright?”

You turn to walk away from him knowing he’ll follow. He does. You hear the door click behind you and he starts to shuffle off his shoes. “Didn’t know who you were.”

“A burglar who rings the doorbell, honey,” he teases. You roll your eyes though you have your back to him.

You let him follow you through to your room where you’re studying. There’s paper and books thrown about the place. Work you really shouldn’t lose, sat on the floor by your bed. You weave through it and it’s not until you go to sit at your desk do you remember the coat you’ve got on.

You take it off and Remus stops still at your doorway. “Jesus,” he murmurs under his breath.

You sit back in your desk chair and it creaks. “What?” you moan, “I know, I’m sorry. I’m such a slob.”

“No, no, sweetie. Not — not that,” he laughs, letting himself move around to your desk. He leans back against the wood, the warm hue of your tiny desk lamp splashes over his cords. “You just — uh.”

You catch the dusting of his cheeks. Where his hands wring in his lap. “What?” you laugh, tucking the pencil in your hand behind your ear. Remus swallows.

He traces your body. The soft plush of your thighs, the tops of them selfishly swallowed by a ragged old shirt — one he knows is his. When you lean forward to push through your textbooks, he catches a slip of your black cotton underwear where your shirt stretches up over your back.

“How long have you been like this?” he asks, tone so pitched up it’s almost embarrassing. He has to clear his throat.

“Like what?” You wrinkle your face. “Just today. I’m sorry, I’ll clean up.”

Remus really wants to laugh. You’re so oblivious to his advances sometimes that it’s adorable. He wouldn’t care if your room was so messed up with schoolwork that you couldn’t see your bed. It’s just — you’re studying, nothing else, and you look so beautiful he feels like his head might explode.

You start to push papers across your desk haphazardly. Stacking things into piles that don’t belong together. Mumbling something about how stressed school has made you lately. You slam books closed and push hair from your face with a flippancy he hates.

“Hey, wait,” Remus tries to soothe. He grabs one of your wrists and you still, hand over the spine of one of your textbooks.

He spins you around in your little desk chair and you hike a leg up, digging into the flimsy material to rest your chin on your knee. The pudge of your thigh spills outwards where you have it smooshed together and Remus almost passes out.

“I don’t care about the mess,” he says as softly as he can manage. He wants to make sure you cool down. He also wants to eat your legs.

“Oh.”

“I meant,” he clears his throat, now just as embarrassed as you. “You just look really good.”

“What?” You wrinkle your face.

“You’re just studying—” He sounds shocked as he says it. “You’re studying and you look so fucking hot.”

You warm from head to toe and struggle not to show it. You tuck your face into your knee and sigh, “Remus.”

He rolls your chair around and sits you between his legs. You squeal and hold onto his outstretched thighs for support. He bends down to hold your arms. “God, you’re not close enough.”

“I’m literally between your legs,” you sigh, trying not to act as flustered as you are. You bite your lip and hold back a pleased grin.

“Stand up,” he says, pinching your flesh. “Please, lovely?”

You stand, acting like it’s not exactly what you want to be doing. “You’re a menace,” you say when he gets you into his chest. Arms snaked down to curl around your bare thighs.

“Sorry,” he says, not sounding very sorry at all. “It’s your fault though.”

You push at his chest, more gently than you can afford when he leans down to press his nose into your neck. “It is not. I was literally doing nothing.”

He pushes his face closer to your skin, “Right,” he mumbles like he’s listening, “Yeah, nothing.”

You flex your hands where you’ve got them in his sweater and stable yourself against him. His breath fans over your bumped skin and you hiccup.

“Christ,” he murmurs into your neck, “Make that noise again.”

You angle your head up, bubbling with girlish laughter, “Remus, stop.” You wish you had it in you to mean it. “I’ve gotta study.”

“No you don’t,” he laughs, pulling back to look down at you. Pupils blown, lips wet and parted, he says, “You can’t study and expect me to not have my mouth all over you.”

“Yes, I can, actually.” Your heart beats loud in your ears. Worse when his hands find your hips. “It’s pretty easy.”

“You make it pretty hard, lovely,” he groans.

Your face wrinkles up into a grimace, the barest hint of a smile curling at your lips, “You’re disgusting,” you groan, pushing at his chest. This time harder than the last. “You’re awful.”

“I didn’t mean it like that!”

“I’m never having you over while I’m trying to study ever again,” you say with a lot less heat than your words imply. You’re a horrible liar. Especially with Remus.

You wriggle yourself from his grip and don’t miss his failed attempts at reaching for you to keep you close. You move across the room and stretch your shirt down your thighs. “You’re insatiable.”

“Hardly!” He reaches for you and you dodge him, giggly stupidly.

“Sit on my bed until I’m finished with this section,” you beg with resolve you don’t have.

Remus is quiet for a beat. Then, he’s grinning. “Can I lay in your lap?”

“Remus!”

Remus eventually gets himself in your lap after at least two pages of revising. He’s very convincing.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fan fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x f!reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #the marauders fanfic #the marauders fanfiction #marauders fanfic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauder x reader

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luveline · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! I have a req for zombie Steve! Maybe one about the day they got stuck in the taco truck and he asked reader to sing for him! Sending all my love to you Jade! 🥰

thank you for your request! steve zombie au —you and steve get stuck in a taco truck with no idea what you mean to one another. 3k, fem!reader

You and Steve stand side by side. The wind is gentle, the sun occluded by a swath of thin clouds. He has a hand reached out to touch your thigh as you stand there, his knuckles pressed to your jeans with light pressure.

"I wish," you begin, a dangerous game, "that someone was about to open the shutter and ask us what we want."

Steve doesn't laugh, but he huffs through his nose. He's growing softer and softer these days, which isn't to say he's soft at all, but he's less coarse. His grumpiness wanes. You think it might have something to do with your sleeping in his lap nearly every night, arms wrapped around his waist while he sits and keeps watch as you rest. Sometimes when he wakes you up to take over, he even deigns to sleep on your thigh.

It's hard to be mad at each other while you use one another like pillows. Hard, yet not impossible.

"I wish I was living on a private island," Steve says. "With a private chef. And–"

"Private dancers?" you tease.

He does smile, then. Like you're friends. Like you could be more. You hope so —he kissed you two weeks ago and he hasn't said a thing about it since. You'd hoped he might kiss you more, but you're content (kind of) with this odd in between.

He doesn't regret it, surely, having been nice to you on multiple occasions since; smoothing your cheek with his knuckle, or nudging you affectionately when you say something meant to be funny. Tiny moments of sweetness.

He'd been sweet before every now and then. Steve isn't mean. He can be, but that isn't the centre of his character. He's brave, loyal, and good to you. He's funny when he lets himself be, and he'd surprised you by being rather creative a few weeks ago, when he'd found a stone that felt gritty and scratched the two of you onto a stretch of sidewalk. "There," he said, giving sidewalk-you an oddly pretty smile, "maybe one day someone will know we were here together."

Together.

"Should we go in?" Steve asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

In another welcome warming toward you, Steve asks you your opinion more and more.

"Is there any point?" you ask.

"All the food is spoiled for sure, but maybe it'll be worth it. My knife is still stuck in that geek's skull in Masy Daisy. There's probably one in the truck I can replace it with."

"Or a spatula, if not."

"Maybe a ladel," he agrees. "Alright, come on. I'm gonna lift you through the window."

"Why are you going to lift me through the window?" you ask, startled.

"For the knife?"

"But why not the door?"

"Door's locked, genius."

"Why don't I lift you through the window?" you ask. "And shouldn't we at least try the door?"

You try the door and Steve doesn't mock you when it doesn't work, because it had been sensible to test it even if the chances were low. He slides his fingers under the shutter and lifts it until it locks from opening any further, rusty paint specks flaking to the ground.

"You'll have to lift me," he says, as though you hadn't suggested it yourself. Infuriating. "Do you think you can?"

"You don't think I can?" you ask.

His gaze softens, just a bit. "You could barely move the day before yesterday. It's cool if you still feel achy."

He feels guilty for letting you drink water that went bad. It had been a mix up. You asked him to pass you the water bottle and he'd grabbed one someone left behind a long time ago, unaware it was the wrong one until you'd thrown up an hour later. Terrifying, how quickly it upset your stomach. He put a new rule in place swiftly after that any debris in your camps must be swept to the side of the room, even if you're both exhausted.

"I don't feel achy. The only thing that's bothering me is my sore throat," you confess, squaring your jaw. "Come on, Harrington, I can lift you. I'm super strong."

"You're strong," he agrees. "Okay, uh, am I climbing on your back or are you gonna boost me?"

"Boost."

You make an anchoring point with your hand and Steve, after giving you a strange look, pulls the shutter open again and steps into your hand. You're expecting him to be somehow lighter and heavier than he actually is —your hands hurt from the pinpoint of his weight but you'd thought it would be harder to lift him up, and so you'd been trying to give it your all.

"Oh, shit–" Steve's curse is cut off by a loud thump and crash, a clattering of metal against metal as the shutter swings shut behind him.

"Steve!" you shout. Your voice isn't used to yelling. "Steve? Are you okay? I'm sorry! I'm really sorry!"

He's laughing inside, but when he pops his head back out of the truck he glares at you. "What's that about?" His glare melds into a softer look. "You're way stronger than you look."

"I'm sorry," you say.

"It's fine," he says, emphasising with a smile. "It's only a concussion."

You frown at him. He mocks your frown.

He's definitely flirting with you.

"What do you want?" he asks.

"For you to be quick. I'm getting the heebies out here."

"Well, don't say I never tried to grant your wish," he says.

He puts the shutter of the taco truck onto a locked hinge so it keeps itself up and turns away from you. The counter isn't so far from the floor after all, and you can see pretty much everything he does as he scans the interior for useful things.

He grabs a kitchen knife that looks sharp and a saucepan with a hole at the end of the handle that looks perfect for tying to his backpack, passing them down to you carefully.

"There's, uh, there's some t-shirts in here, taco truck shirts. Shit, that's hilarious, should we take them?"

"Yeah," you say, happy if he's happy, "we can be matching."

"Sweet."

Steve climbs up onto the counter. You hold your hands out to help him down, and for a second you think he might let you, his hand in yours. His gaze snags left, and he pitches back into the truck on a mad scramble.

You turn to where he was looking, catch a snapshot of what looks like a writhing hill approaching you, and then Steve's grabbing your forearms hard in his grasp and hissing, "Climb up! Climb up, Y/N. Grab me!"

Your heart rockets into your mouth as you grab his shoulders, fingers aching as they twist into the fabric of his jacket. Steve yanks you inside, and you almost break his chin with your forehead as you topple inside and on top of him, the two of you hitting the short length of flooring with a bang.

"Stay down," he says, hand behind your head, "and be quiet."

Your forehead hurts from hitting into him. You can't imagine how his chin feels. Pulse capering with fear-wrought adrenaline, you hide your face in his neck and try not to pant wetly into his skin. His arms tighten around when the sounds grow closer. Moaning breath. Shuffling, heavy feet.

He holds you. You don't have the wits to revel in it.

You're not sure how long you stay like that, laying on his chest, your hands digging into his sides. He doesn't complain, doesn't hiss or murmur chastisement. Steve hugs you to him and lets out staggering, harsh breaths. He's scared too.

When the sound of the geek herd is a distant memory, you attempt to sit up, and surprisingly he lets you without comment. You kneel on the divoted flooring and blink, and before Steve can sit up himself you're moving into a crouch to peek over the counter.

Your bags have been tramped, your things strewn across the road outside. Steve crouches next to you. "Shit," he says.

"Did I hurt you?" you ask, gesturing to his chin. "I'm really sorry, Steve."

"You say sorry too much," he says, eyes still on the road. "I'm sorry for almost pulling your arms off, okay? Let's call it even." He turns to you. A little frown pulls at the corners of his pretty mouth. "Did I hurt you?"

He grabs your elbow like he might check.

You shake your head vehemently. "No, I'm grateful. I don't know why I didn't notice them coming, I'm an idiot, I was–" distracted by you, you think. Your happy smile. You cough. "I'm stupid."

"You're not stupid. You're reckless, and you could've killed yourself by not keeping an eye out, but you're not stupid."

His chin has a red mark on it. You nibble the inside of your bottom lip unhappily, eyebrows furrowed and then pinching upwards.

"I'm sorry," you say again, quick and upset with yourself.

"Are we okay? Are we alive? We're fine, dummy, and it's okay. Don't be sorry, just help me down so we can get our stuff back. I hope the jar of cut peaches didn't smash."

You both stand with aching knees. You reach for hinge on the shutter to see if you can open it wider and almost lose a finger when it comes crashing down, a cruel metallic screeching sound slicing through the air. You both flinch away from it, eyes screwed closed and hands held upward.

Steve blinks, lowering his hands slowly.

You leap to open it again, embarrassed, wanting to do just one thing right today, but it won't budge. Steve stands next to you and fiddles with it.

"Uh," he says, giving the shutter a good shove. "What did you do?"

And so begins one of the worst nights of your life. You and Steve spend hours trying to open the shutter. You push it, you beat at it with a heavy saucepan, you even break a knife in half and nearly blind yourself trying to force a gap in the seam. Nothing works, and you and Steve grow more and more afraid.

It startles you that he doesn't yell. He doesn't blame you once. He keeps trying to get the shutter open, and when hours of attempting to free you proves fruitless, he sits down in the corner of the van and sighs. His head in his hands, you can't see his face, or gauge his feelings. His slumped shoulders tell you he's tired, but tired of you? Is he bubbling, bottling his anger until the last moment.

You sit down in front of him, your face a little tacky from the occasional self-loathing tear. Your throat aches something fierce. "Don't worry, Steve," you say hoarsely, "I'm gonna keep trying. Just rest, and don't panic. I promise I– I promise I'll get us out."

Steve scrubs his face. He parts his fingers, looking at you from between them with an unreadable emotion.

"I'm really sorry," you say, tears welling thick and fat as heavy rain, quick to race down your cheek. You ignore them as Steve holds your gaze.

He takes your hand. He threads your fingers together. He isn't your boyfriend, but he acts like one, and he sounds like one when he asks, "What did I say about sorry?"

"I know, but this is my fault," you breathe.

"It's not your fault. It's not. Don't cry," he says. "Let me think of something. I'll think of something."

He doesn't let go of your hand. You take it as a cue to stay, and you do, depressed beyond words at the reality of your situation. Again, your circumstances ruin the intimacy of his closeness. He tries his best to comfort you, you know, his thumb rubbing tiny slow circles into the back of your hand.

"Maybe we should sleep," he says, "and try again tomorrow. Maybe the hinge will relax, or something."

You nod numbly. With no reason for a first or second watch, you're expecting Steve to lay flat and sleep without fuss, but he bundles up the spare uniforms inside and leans his head on them, gesturing for you to rest your head on his chest. You do as instructed. Even before he kissed you, you were sleeping in his lap. His chest is no different. You try not to read into it as you settle there, in the same way that you try not to read into his hand on the small of your back, the tip of his ring finger pushed a half of a centimetre into the waistband of your jeans. He probably doesn't know he's doing it.

You're going to die. You're gonna starve to death in here, with him, your boyfriend who isn't your boyfriend, having survived hordes and herds, malnutrition, infection, and a boat load of moderate to severe injuries.

"I'm so sorry," you whisper. You shake under Steve's hands.

"It's not your fault."

"It is. I shut it. I got it stuck."

"But why were we in here?" he asks.

"Because… the herd?"

"But why were we in here?" he asks. "Why did we come this way? Why did we follow this road?"

You sigh into his chest, "No, Steve."

"I asked you to come this way with me. I didn't even ask. I told you we were coming here and you trusted me. You've never," —he swallows audibly— "said no. This is my fault. It's all me." His voice doesn't harden, exactly, but it pulls taut and tensile. Unbreaking. "Just sleep. I'll get us out of here in the morning, I swear."

You try to do as he asks. You know he isn't sleeping either, though he might be pretending you are, because he starts to do what he only does when he thinks you've fallen asleep, his hand stroking up and down your back.

You rub your cheek against his chest.

"You said…" You lick your lips, wondering if you're making a mistake even as you continue, "You liked Fleetwood Mac."

"Yeah?" he asks quietly.

"I liked them too."

"You did?"

"My favourite one, was, um, You Make Loving Fun."

You don't say it, but it's right there between you —the word love. Even with danger hanging over your heads, a mention of love feels awkward, awkward but exciting in that breathless, silly way. At least on your part.

"I don't remember that one."

"That album had all the good ones, that's why. It's forgotten."

Steve smooths a hand down to your jeans. He creeps ever further, his touch just shy of skin he's never felt before. "Would you sing it for me?"

"I'm all scratchy."

"I don't care, I think I'd know it if I heard it. Sing it for me."

You sing the first line, and the second, shaky with insecurity and off key. It's been so long since you heard music, you barely remember how it goes, though you can't forget the words. You're barely singing your way through the end of the verse, "This feeling follows me wherever I go," when Steve starts to tremble underneath you.

You look up. His lips are pressed tightly together and his eyes are shining with delight.

You pout, knowing exactly what he's gonna say. "What?"

"You sound like a dying cat," he says fondly, bursting into laughter.

You sit up and turn from him showfully, slapping his thigh as you go. You're not mad, but it's fun to pretend with him, and even better when he says, "Sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, you sound like you've swallowed glass, is what I mean. Hon– Y/N." His hands grabbing at your arm, pulling you back in.

You resist him.

His grip slackens. "Hey, I didn't mean it. I'm kidding," he says.

You shake his hand off of you and stand up. Squinting, you creep toward the door, and you can barely see it in the poor lighting of the truck, but you read it aloud anyways. "Door locks from behind. Do not forget your key."

"What?"

You try the handle.

You hadn't bothered because it was locked from the outside. But this is a food truck, and it would be a fire hazard to lock closed with no escape. The door opens stiffly, but it opens, and the cool air of the night kisses your cheeks.

"Oh, thank god," Steve says.

You prop it open with your foot even if you're sure it won't lock. "Do you really think I sound like a dying cat?"

Steve nods firmly, already sitting up. "But I thought that might be cruel if we died here together. Hence the backtrack."

You and Steve climb down out of the truck and search for your stuff in the dark. The jar of peaches has survived, as well as your favoured pack of playing cards, which you'd envisioned strewn about the street.

"Here," he says, pressing it into your hand. He turns his flashlight on and shines it downward, looking for the rest of your canned food.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

You really do like him, love him, even. You're grateful for him, and the euphoria of knowing you're not doomed after all rises fast. But he's a dick. You can be a dick back.

"Hey, Steve?" you ask sweetly. He turns, torch in hand, looking pleased. "Hey. I was thinking, now we aren't going to die and all, I could teach you some games? Gin rummy?"

"Sure."

"We can bet using the jar of peach slices. I'll go easy on you, though, 'cos you've never played it."

He smiles at you. "Thanks, Y/N."

You smirk to yourself and step forward to pick up a stray can of spaghetti shapes. "No problem," you say under your breath. "No problem at all."

—

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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allmightskitten · 2 months ago

Text

Ao3 is down??!!! Well, sounds as good a time as any to post another instalment from the abandoned WIP graveyard!

🦩🐊❤️‍🔥

Abandoned WIP Graveyard:

do you think you'd like to buy me diamonds?

- a modern doflamingo/crocodile/corazon fic

- abandoned possibly temporarily, something to return to in the future if there's time

- was going to be E rated and nasty, but the preview I have for you today hasn't gotten there yet lol

- dofcora, dofuwani, both those things together AND corawani 🫣 also the crocodad theory is a thing here because of course it is ☝️

Extract below the cut:

It meant one of two things if he wasn't responding to their shared code of knocking thrice slowly, and thrice more in quick succession: one, he was neck deep in work, hunched over pages and pages of scattered drawings that had built up over the course of half a day, and hundreds of scrunched-up sheets in the bin, on the bed and floor, everywhere– or, two: he was pouring over images and information that he really shouldn't have.

Doflamingo was holed up in his room again, and Rosinante knew from prior experience that that was never a good sign.

Images and information that, Rosinante was quite sure, would be classified by most as 'creepy' to own or at the very least 'illegal'.

He tried the knock again. There wasn't anything terribly important to bother his brother about, but he needed to know as early as possible if Doffy would be free to drive him to Law's school play later this evening. He had got his own license suspended a few days back for reckless driving, which in his defense was more so bad driving than recklessness as his general clumsiness unfortunately translated to that aspect of his life as well.

"Come in," Doffy's voice came muffled through the door, unexpressive and distracted. Rosinante braced himself and let himself inside.

Yeah...

This was what he was afraid of.

The bedroom he set foot into was like a folder of evidence needed for a restraining order. Blown-up photos of him– 'Crocodile', the 40-something-year-old casino owner Doflamingo had become fixated on– lined the walls, stuck to them carelessly with kraft tape. Splayed out on the bed in front of Doffy were printed news articles and magazine clippings, every one about the same subject. Piled on the foot of the bed were an assortment of various items including brand new cigars, ties, bottles of wine and flowers.

Rosinante cleared his throat pointedly, drawing a pair of pale crimson eyes in his direction.

"I thought we agreed that stalking that man is dangerous." Crocodile had ties to the underworld too, ties that were very much not in line with their own. "It would be a lot less dangerous if you just visited his casino and started speaking to him organically."

Doffy slowly set down the magazine clippings he was stuffing into a transparent folder. He observed Rosinante for a moment, like he was reading his body language and all his tells he wasn't aware of himself, before a sudden snort-laugh escaped him loudly.

"Aw, don't tell me you're jealous, baby brother!"

Rosinante's cheeks felt hot.

"I'm not jealous," he sputtered, like the very notion was ridiculous.

"It's okay," Doflamingo said placatingly, knowingly, sugary-sweet. He made space on the bed beside him and patted the sheets. "I've been neglecting you lately, haven't I? Let me make things right."

Rosi bit his lip. There was nothing remotely right about what Doffy was offering to do, and all the other things they had started to get up to in recent times– things one certainly shouldn't be doing with one's own family member, nevermind one as close as a sibling– but he knew Doflamingo felt no guilt and remained completely unapologetic for it.

Why the hell not? he'd whispered in Rosinante's ear a fortnight ago, when he had grown stiff in Doffy's arms, chilling realization hitting him like a freight train after evading him the entire time Doffy had been kissing him, jerking him off until he came. We're closer to each other than anyone. What does a little more closeness matter?

Oh, but Doflamingo's touch was addictive. His attention doubly so.

His body moved on its own to take the space Doffy had cleared for him. Short, cropped blonde hair was immediately in his lap as Doflamingo stretched his long legs out on the other side of the bed, grinning devilishly up at him as he slid his fingers into his big brother's hair.

It probably had something to do with their messy upbringing. Their years of separation before they found their way back to each other. The way Doflamingo spoiled him rotten with all the wealth he'd built up in the time he'd been gone, in stark contrast to the impoverished lifestyle Rosinante led until then.

Doflamingo really had no qualms about anything, and nothing was a step too far in his book, but Rosinante wasn't like that. He had principles and morals and knew right from wrong, usually.

Doflamingo brought out the worst in him.

Rosi cleared his throat, not wanting to go down that avenue right now. For his own sanity he'd have to avoid Doffy for another fortnight if today's interaction ended like last time.

"I need you to drive me somewhere tonight. Law has a role in the school play."

Doffy snorted, his expression immediately souring.

"What, is he a tree? Or perhaps the backstage help who moves the set pieces?"

Rosinante swatted him on the head for that, indignant at the implication.

"He has a speaking role, asshole!"

"Oh, does he now? So they managed to pull him away from his books enough to get him to audition?"

Rosi dug his massaging fingers into Doffy's scalp a little aggressively. "Stop being such an ass. He's eight, you can't keep having beef with an eight year old."

"He always starts it!" Doffy protested childishly. "I have never, ever started the fight."

"Right, like I'm gonna believe that."

"I swear!"

"Because your word is so honest." Rosinante rolled his eyes, but he relaxed his fingers, and Doffy immediately melted into his touch. "So? Can you drive me there tonight? You don't have to stick around and watch it."

"Mm, I was thinking about your advice, actually." Doffy reached up to touch his cheek. "About interacting normally with Crocodile, at his casino. I was thinking of doing that tonight."

Rosi squeezed his hand. "Dof, I'm glad to hear that. I really am, but I don't want to miss Law's play." Law hated Doflamingo. And the kid was very perceptive, scarily so– the last time Rosinante had missed the chance to be there for him because of Doflamingo, he'd automatically known who to blame. Rosinante wasn't keen on disappointing his kid either. Law had no one but him.

Doffy narrowed his eyes at him, studying the expression on his face, the quiet plea to allow him this. It was unhealthy, it was wrong, just how much control Doflamingo had over his life, but he could be reasoned with if it was coming from Rosinante...

"Fine," Doflamingo said finally. "I'll drive you to the play. But I'm only dropping you off. I can't leave the casino early to pick you up after."

That was fine. He could take a taxi. The Donquixotes weren't supposed to be taking civilian taxis, that was dangerous and Doflamingo didn't allow him especially, but he didn't have to know that. "I can get a lift from one of the parents."

"And have you vetted these people?"

Rosi sighed. There was that paranoia again– though more than being paranoid it was probably being controlling.

"Yes, Doffy, I have. Having a kid in Law's class whom he recognizes is quite a difficult cover for one of your enemies to fake, you know."

"You never know," Doffy said darkly, seriously, but he seemed placated with the answer. "You don't have to go that far, anyway. I'll send one of my men to pick you up. Bellamy's schedule should be free today."

Rosi nodded, grateful and disappointed at the same time. He wasn't a huge fan of the life his brother lived and actively benefiting from it didn't always sit right with him. It wasn't like Doflamingo's underworld business that made him filthy rich was without victims.

Doflamingo patted his cheek, bringing him out of his thoughts.

"Not even a thank you, Rosi? Come here and show me."

Rosinante tried to pretend he was only placating Doflamingo when he leaned down to kiss him on the lips.

#abandoned wip graveyard #donquixote doflamingo #donquixote rosinante #donquixote corazon #doflacora #dofuwani #crocodile one piece #dofladile #dofucora #dofcora #doflamingo x crocodile x corazon

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