#take advantage of all that sunlight

[amare-luna]

AAAAAAAAAAAA apartment hunting my old foe…… we meet again

[amdiriel]

lonely pt. 2

Azriel x fem!Archeron!reader

SUMMARY: After a vulnerable moment of comfort, Reader tries to navigate Azriel’s increasingly flirtatious behavior without assuming anything. Because she really shouldn’t. Right?

WARNINGS: FLUFF, slight suggestiveness, a bit of hurt but SO much comfort, not proofread we die like men

NOTE: thanks for so much love on part 1! I have some ideas for new Az fics, so lmk if you're interested in being on my Azriel taglist! xox diri

WORDS: ~4.2k

part 1 main masterlist

•••

It had been about a week and a half since my little breakdown in my room, my cycle coming and going just days after it. I attributed my moment of uncharacteristic hopelessness to hormones.

I hoped Azriel would too, since I had trouble fully looking him in the eye ever since out of embarrassment. After a night of deep rest post-letting-it-all-out, I woke the next morning to a spill of hindsight in my mind, grumbling at my ridiculousness into my pillow. Despite my cycle being a royal pain in my ass, it was a few days where I could hide safely in my room.

So the next few days, I was determined to be fine. I was great, living the dream, no worries here, wielding a grin and a dry joke as always.

The first day after my cycle ending, I wake up to blissful absence of pain in my abdomen, and treat myself to a long bath.

Afterwards, I take advantage of a brisk morning walk, the sunshine making the late winter weather less intolerably cold. I barely get two blocks from the River House before a shadow passes over my head.

I tilt my head back, squinting through the direct sunlight. Then the shadow descends at an alarmingly fast rate and touches down near-silently beside me. “Good morning,” Azriel murmurs.

I jump at his sudden appearance, the bubbling nervousness at his closeness making it more pronounced. “Shit—Azriel,” I gasp, calming myself with a breath. “What the hell?”

He chuckles lowly and nudges me slightly as he matches my resuming pace. “Sorry. Occupational hazard, I’m afraid,” he says, not sorry at all.

I huff and roll my eyes, even as my lips curl up as well. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You need to wear a bell.” His laugh curls around me.

“I’m not sure it would go with my leathers,” he pretends to muse. “A collar would really ruin the effect of my scariness. Not to mention the whole point of being Spymaster.”

I snort, shaking my head. He nudges me again, drawing my gaze back up to him. I find his eyes warmly on me.

“I’m glad to see you out and about,” he says. “I was worried about you.”

I let the sweet words warm me for a quick moment before I huff a small laugh. “It’s my cycle, not sickness. I’m good.”

He shrugs. “Still. I know it’s much worse for you and your sisters now that you’re all fae. You handling them alright?”

My expression softens. “You’re sweet. I’m fine. I didn’t have much pain as a human, so I think as far as fae cycles go, my pain now is relatively mild. I mostly just don’t want to do anything,” I reply with a shrug of my own.

Azriel eyes me for a moment. “Alright. But you’ll let me know if you need anything, right? I haven’t forgotten about our agreement, you know,” he says with a sly smirk.

It takes a second for it to dawn, but soon a blush blooms on my face as I remember that night. I huff a sigh, finding it within me to laugh a little at myself. “So, what, you want me to come to you any time I have a problem?” I ask dryly.

A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes,” he answers plainly.

I give him a look. “Are you now our resident therapist too?” I deadpan. “Your resume’s long enough, Shadowsinger, you can take a pause every once in a while.”

He laughs again, shaking his head at me. “I may be busy, but never for you. Never for family,” he replies, and with such sincerity in his eyes that my steps falter for a moment.

Fuck. What happened to cool and collected, Archeron?

But I swallow and arch a brow. “Sweet. But you’re barely here enough to be able to do so for the many members of our ever-growing household,” I say, thinking about our nephew Nyx.

He shrugs a shoulder, his wings unfurling then furling in a subtle motion that catches my eye. I’d always found them fascinating. “Then how about this—I’ll never be too busy for you,” he says, a note saucily that my widened eyes turn upon his smirking face.

I grasp for words for a moment, and I see his eyes delight at my moment of hesitation. I shut my mouth and switch tactics, laughing. “Why Az, you are positively Rhys-like today.”

His brows raise, expression lighting in challenge. “Oh am I? Enlighten me, sweetheart.”

I bite hard on the inside of my cheek at that damned pet name again. This male just made it so bloody difficult to be dignified at all. I swear, every moment in his presence is a fight for my life. “You’re all—” I gesticulate over his person, “Swaggering. It’s unnerving. Please, for my sanity, resume your duties as our resident brooder. You’re putting me off.”

His head tilts back with a hearty laugh that startles me into astonishment. “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” he drawls, suddenly feeling like he’s looming over me.

Stupid, tree-like male.

I don’t reply except for a disbelieving huff at his forward behavior. His smirk is self satisfied as he halts, taking a step back with a sketch of a bow.

“You’ll have to resume your walk without me, Ms. Archeron,” he says, and I wrinkle my nose at the use of my surname. His smiling eyes rove over it, dipping to my lips before locking with my own gaze again. “Think you can manage?”

I scoff and manage to flip him off as his enormous wings unfurl and beat his figure into the air. His rumbling chuckle disappears as his shape grows smaller in the sky.

—

The following days, he wasn’t as blatantly swaggering, as I had called him, but he was…

Forward. Disarmingly so.

I couldn’t seem to avoid his presence if I tried, if merely to kick some sense back into myself. First it was the library—when I had settled into the cozy window seat, my usual perch, an hour into my reading, he had strode in his silent yet confident way of his. I had stilled, as if hoping he’d simply not notice me. Fool. He notices everything. And he certainly had wasted no time sidling up to my perch and leaning over to observe what I was reading. His warmth and masculine scent was a pleasant yet oppressive blanket to my poor sensibilities. And I barely survived when he had hummed “Any good?” practically into my ear.

Or there was lunchtime—I’d wander into the kitchen to make something quick and simple for myself, and when I walked into the dining room he’d be sitting there already, looking up with a small, unassuming smile. When he bade simply, “Sit with me”, I had no choice but to obey and eat with him. In my suspicion, I confess that I switched the times I went to get lunch by random intervals, in which each and every time he either was already there or showed up soon after.

I couldn’t tell if it just happened that way, or if he was being overly clever in his intentional variation.

Now, three weeks post-meltdown incident, Azriel had been gone a few days on Cauldron-knows-what business, so I’d loosened up, no longer bracing myself like he could walk into the room at any second.

Which is apparently my folly, since as soon as I round the corner into the dining room one morning, I found him standing at the sideboard, back toward me, making a cup of tea.

I halted, nearly rearing back as my mouth started to form the word shit, but quickly clamping it down. But even the smallest of noise alerts someone as discerning as him.

He turns and calls my name with quiet warmth, and I banish the wince from my face. “Hey,” I say simply. “When did you get back?”

“Last night,” he says, abandoning his tea to draw near. My head tilts back as he stops in front of me. “How have you been?” he asks with a soft smile.

His quiet care is almost more flustering than his forwardness. “Well. Fine,” I answer. “And you? Your mission or whatever successful?”

He huffs amusedly. “My mission or whatever was just fine,” he replies. Then he returns to the sideboard. “Tea?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Just bla—”

“Just black. I know,” he says, throwing a smile over his shoulder at me. I blink in surprise, cheeks pink. He’s been paying close enough attention that he knows that?

Of course he has, dummy. He probably has dossiers on everyone in this city with information down to the way they take their tea, the pragmatic voice in my head deadpans. You’re no exception.

I blink again as he draws near with a second cup, passing it to me. I take it with a small thank you, sipping it gratefully.

Just when I start to squirm on my feet at the silence between us, he speaks. “About what we talked about that night a few weeks ago—” I still. “You’re alright in that regard? And don’t lie, I’ll be able to tell.”

I huff a sound between a sigh and laugh, looking down. “Well, I haven’t had a night as bad as that one since then, so that’s good right?” I say with wry self-deprecation. He doesn’t reply. “But really, I’m alright. Just winter blues, I suppose.”

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I roll my eyes in a small flash of annoyance. “Alright, not just winter blues. But they certainly don’t help. But I’m fine. Really. You did really help that night,” I admit softly.

I don’t really notice my teacup is empty until he gently takes it from my hand and sets it next to his already abandoned cup. “What helped most, sweetheart?” he asks gently.

My tongue felt stuck to the roof of my mouth—speaking my vulnerability aloud both impossible and foreign. Letting him in last time didn’t hurt. It helped, a small voice whispers in my head.

I take a breath. “Just—talking through it. Physical touch too, um…” I fight to stay steady. “It’s grounding.”

He hums, nodding. There’s a light touch to both my elbows, and my eyes shift down to find that he’d silently reached for me. I allow the touch, but don’t dare go further, suspended in the fear of the unknown.

“You don’t have to be afraid to ask for that,” he murmurs quietly. Suddenly I’m very aware of the air we’re sharing, how close he’s gotten to me. His hands slide slowly to my upper arms, my breath hitching as the warmth of his palms bleed through even my heavy sweater.

The panic sets in before I can think this interaction through, before I can rationalize that maybe, just maybe he wants to be close to me, wants to touch me. Instead my eyes find the clock and seize the subject change before me. “Don’t you have Valkyrie training in five minutes?”

Azriel stills and follows my gaze to the clock. His jaw works once before the fleeting tension is gone. “You’re right. I should go.” He squeezes my upper arms gently before letting his hands drop. “Stay warm today. Wind is supposed to get bad, and temperatures will drop rapidly once the sun sets.”

I nod, giving him a brief smile. “Of course, you too. Stay warm, I mean.”

He returns my smile before leaving the room.

A whoosh of air leaves my lungs as soon as I’m alone again. Idiot. Silly, foolish girl.

—

Azriel was at his wits end.

He’d been pulling far more stops than his usual personality allowed, hadn’t he? She was certainly clever enough to notice that he was acting much differently around her, right? Had he just not been forward enough?

And still, she did not allow him closer, as close as two people could be. He'd given her every sign he could think of without embarrassing himself.

Impossible girl. Can’t you understand that all I want is to comfort and coddle you?

He must not have taken care to erase any tension in his expression by the time he touched down in the ring atop the House of Wind, because Cassian’s brows raised upon seeing him.

Azriel just had to cast him a cool look for his brother to relent, though he caught the half-smirk on the General’s face as he turned toward the group of priestesses warming up and began training.

It was during sparring that Nesta finally deigns to sidle up beside him as he watches a match. “So. What the hell’s going on between you and my sister?”

He stills for just a moment before erasing the reaction. He debates lying to his friend, but she’ll call him on it. He doesn't think she’ll warn him off her sister either, so finally he admits evenly, “Much less than I would like.”

The eldest Archeron huffs a laugh. “I appreciate you sparing me a lie. Honestly, Az? My sister is just supremely oblivious, clever as she is. If nothing else has worked at this point, you just need to lay one on her.”

He chokes and turns his head toward her. “I would never. Not without her express permission—”

She snorts, shaking her head. “Gods, males can be so boring. At the very least you need to sit her down and make sure she doesn’t leave until she understands exactly what your intentions are. Then you can lay one on her, if she’s amenable to it.”

Azriel takes a deep breath, letting the words sink into his turbulent mind. “I don’t want to scare her,” he admits after a pause.

“You won’t,” she replies instantly. “She’s not afraid of you, she never could be. In truth, my sister is scared of very little. But based on the fact that she’s never had a romantic attachment before, what seems like indifference is likely just borne out of nervousness.”

“I don’t want to make her nervous either.”

“It’s not you that does. It’s just—being vulnerable. Emotionally intimate with someone,” Nesta says. “Years of fighting with her have taught me that she’ll hide anything behind biting wit or a laugh and joke. I think that’s what makes it all the more difficult to understand.”

He doesn’t reply.

“But speaking not as her sister, she definitely is attracted to you,” Nesta continues. “Speaking as her sister?” He looks at her cool features. “Don’t fuck it up.” Then she stalks away to Gwyn and Emerie.

Azriel forces down a growl. Tonight. He'd do it tonight or hell, he'd go crazy from this dance around the line. He'd spent too many centuries wanting this, wanting companionship for him to squander an opportunity with, at last, a female that he connected so deeply with. A female that seemed to need his touch as badly as he needed hers.

So...yes. He'd had quite enough of waiting.

—

True to Azriel's word, it did end up being very cold today.

I forgo any ideas of taking a walk, but I did end up camping out in the warmth of Feyre's study, taking turns with her to organize some of her paperwork or play with Nyx on the floor. My nephew (and his poor parents) had had some rough nights due to the last dregs of his teething pain, but it was good to see him smiling and playing despite it all. Rhysand stopped in frequently, unable to stay from his mate and son for extended periods of time, and after the fourth time Feyre shooed him out with their laughing, squirming son in his arms.

Our bi-weekly dinner fell that evening. Usually I enjoyed it.

Usually.

The dinner was fine. But I was so chilled that I took the opportunity of warmth from any hot dish passed around to me. I shiver for the upteenth time as Azriel passes me the potatoes.

"Cold?" he murmurs close beside me, and I shiver again. Not from the cold, damn him.

"Freezing," I retort instead, scooping potatoes on my plate. "Doesn't Rhys have this place warded to hell? Why is it so drafty?"

Azriel chuckles lowly. "How do you know that it isn't just you?" he teases.

I shoot him a look. "No, no, Mr. 'Stay Warm Today', I'm quite certain it isn't."

He laughs again, and it warms me only temporarily. I finish before everyone else, per usual. Not only do I tend to eat fast, but I'm also not caught up in constant conversation. Bored, my eyes travel the room, around my friends. My family. Even in my relaxed, two-glasses-of-wine haze, my mind doesn't fail to notice how paired up they all seem to have gotten.

Feyre and Rhys feed a fussy Nyx in his highchair, Rhys's eyes roaming over his mate and child with unrepressed love. Cassian's arm was slung around Nesta's shoulder, my usually stoic sister slumped comfortably into his side. Varian looked down at Amren next to him like she was the most fascinating creature alive, which...wasn't entirely a subjective statement, considering her interesting history.

Even Elain was speaking in shy tones with Lucien, who watched her with amused adoration. I had been so proud of my younger sister for finally realizing that she could just as well choose him as not choose him. They were taking it slow, she'd been telling me recently, but she begrudgingly had found that her mate was, indeed, her perfect match.

But as with all my friends and family, my happiness for them comes at a cost. To myself.

I turn and opened my mouth to chase away the tightness in my chest, but found that the Spymaster next to me was turned away, engaging Mor in conversation on his other side.

I quickly clamp my mouth shut and instead go for my wine.

Gods, hadn't Feyre mentioned there was some sort of will-they won't-they situation between the two of them? Something that had been brewing for the five centuries they'd known each other? It was none of my business, of course, and I hardly paid attention, but even I noticed that it had been pretty consistently they-won't in the past few years of living here.

Right?

Azriel laughs at something she says, and suddenly I feel sick.

Cauldron. Was I going to be the only one left?

And even worse—had I also been imagining his forwardness with me as of late?

There's a rushing in my ears and I tune out completely, going blissfully blank.

I hardly recall cleanup. Or the migration to the living room. My body seems to draw itself to the fireplace, a hand lifting to drag a blanket off the back of an armchair as I settle on the floor before the flames.

And as I wrap the blanket around myself, shivering minutely, I can't bring myself to look at what I know I'll find behind me—each couple in the house cuddling for warmth.

—

Azriel's heart aches at the sight of her vibrating form in front of the fire.

He'd taken his place behind the armchair she usually sat in, hoping to finally coax her into having a conversation in the privacy of the hall. Or if things went well, his bedroom.

But instead he watched her walk as if unawake from the dining room to the fireplace in the living room. Unblinking. Not looking at anyone else.

He doesn't know what to do.

He also doesn't realize that a shadow had flitted to her until it came slinking back to his shoulder, whispering, Upset. Crying.

His heart broke. Oh, sweetheart.

He felt suspended in air, in time for a moment. Everyone was lounging, cuddling in their respective pairs, speaking quietly with one another. Distracted. So he took a gamble.

And silently pushed forward.

—

I felt him before I heard or saw him.

I lock up as I feel his warm body settle on the rug, not quite directly behind me, but not quite beside me either.

His touch was warm, intentional.

Mother, I needed intentional touch so badly.

I hadn't realize how upset I had gotten until the first cold tear spills down my cheek. I wipe hastily at it.

"Hey," he coos softly in my ear, his arm coming firmly around me and drawing me into him. I sniff, shooting a panicked glance over my shoulder since everyone was in the room right now. I barely register that his wings block any sight of the two of us from the rest of the room before his gentle hand guides my chin back to look up at him. "No one can see, sweet girl," he murmurs. "You're alright."

The lump tightens painfully in my throat as a second, third tear spill down my face. "Sorry," I mouth, unable to get any sound out.

"Stop," he whispers gently. "You're alright. You're safe." His hand slides to the back of my head and I let myself be guided to the shelter of his embrace, once again in his lap as I silently shake. "Are you feeling that way again?"

I nod silently.

He sighs. "Sweetheart. Why don't you just let me in?"

I untuck my wet face from his shoulder to glance confusedly up at him. "I...I am," I breathe. "You're—you're hugging me."

He shakes his head, cradling my face with both hands. "I mean: why don't you let me into that head of yours? That world? Most importantly, why can't you just let me into your heart?"

Said heart seems to stutter and stop beating.

There's a long moment where my lips don't form words, don't do anything except lay parted, slack. "What do you mean?" I finally blurt, a note of tightness in my voice.

His jaw works and he sighs heavily through his nose. "Sweetheart, is it so impossible to understand that this whole time you've found yourself lonely at the sight of everyone paired off that maybe I want to be that person for you? Your person?"

"Wh—you?" I sputter on a whisper as everything dawns, hell, practically crashes down upon me. The denial comes a split second after. "No."

"Yes."

My expression shutters in emotion. "There's no way—"

"There is," he murmurs with an adoring smile on his handsome face, thumbs brushing at my tears. "And you can't change that, ever. But what you can do is let me in."

I take a shuddery breath, in and out. "Let you in?"

He nods.

"Be my person?" I croak. "And I be yours?"

The words seem to have an effect on him, his chest puffing for a moment before deflating again. His hands cradle my face like I'm precious. I've never felt more so than in his lap. "Yes, sweet girl. Mine. And I, yours."

A release another uneven breath, feeling my body go warm all over. "I—I never thought that I...that you could want this with me. Could want me," I rasp.

He smiles. "But I do. I have for a long time."

I let out a little wet laugh. "Gods, I—" I shake my head. "I don't feel like asking questions right now. I've wanted you too, for so long. I just didn't want to delude myself, to make a fool of myself in front of you when you're so..."

He raises a brow but his eyes remain warm. "So?"

"So perfect, damn you," I finish, no real malice behind my words. When he laughs this time, I feel it seep directly through my chest and into my soul.

"You're the perfect one, sweetheart," he murmurs, and presses a kiss to my hairline like he had those weeks ago. "In more ways than one." He draws back to look at me, and I return his gaze with nothing but openness, with love. Then he breathes, "May I kiss you?"

Heat blooms across my cheeks, but I give him a little nod. "You may."

He dips his chin ever so slowly, and when his soft, full lips finally meet mine, my eyes slip shut. Tentative, and so gentle with me, he dares his tongue over my bottom lip. Though I feel like I have no idea what I’m doing, I let him through.

The first swipe of his tongue, this hungrier kiss sets my soul ablaze, his hands travel to wrap around my waist, drawing my chest against his.

We kiss quietly yet needy for Cauldron knows how long. All I know is that I’m breathless, fuzzy, and light by the time I draw away softly. He chases my lips a moment more before settling his forehead against mine.

Breathing the same air.

A giddy smile tugs at my features, and I giggle with blushing embarrassment. “They definitely know what’s going on,” I whisper, fighting the urge to peek. He chuckles lowly and draws me closer, depositing a kiss on my shoulder, my jaw, then my lips.

“I sent them out,” he replies. My brows raise. “I told Rhys mind-to-mind that if he didn’t get everyone out, I’d quit.”

A laugh bubbles up within me. “Liar. He just decided to have mercy on us. On me, at least.”

Azriel grins, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Boyish. Free.

“Kiss me again,” I whisper. And he does.

That night, he takes me to his room, scooping me under the covers and into his body. I’m too wired, too happy to fall asleep right away. It’s when I watch him slip into dreamland, the most relaxed I’ve seen him, that there’s a tug within my chest.

A soft glow flickers to life deep in my soul. I smile and let the tears fall as I feel what I think is the bond.

I settle in. I’ll tell him tomorrow.

•••

NOTE: i hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i did writing it! i have an idea for a short series taking place post-ACOSF, where Reader is part of a group in Montesere that’s sort of adjacent to the Valkyries, and she comes to visit the Library, so I’ll start drafting if anyone is interested k love you bye! -diri

TAG LIST: @lilah-asteria @salvatoresister1 @a-courtof-azriel @thestartitaness @casiiopea2 @kk191327 @missxmarvelous @saltedcoffeescotch

[harrysfolklore]

casual - ln4

summary: you’re in a situationship with lando norris, one that you know is going to break your heart, but you can’t seem to walk away. wc: 11.7k

folkie radio: i was about to scrap this entire fic bc i just didn’t like they way it was turning out but i finished it 😭 i’m still not really confident about it but i hope you enjoy it. disclaimer: this is angsty !!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

You and Lando. Lando and You. An undefined space, more than friends, less than a relationship. You remember it like it was yesterday, though almost a year has passed.

It started innocently enough. As a data analyst and strategist for McLaren, you often found yourself working late nights, poring over race statistics and performance metrics. Lando would sometimes wander into the office, restless after a day of simulations and meetings.

At first, your interactions were purely professional - discussing tire degradation rates or fuel consumption patterns. But gradually, conversations began to drift, getting more personal and personal.

The shift happened subtly. One night, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you were both exhausted, sprawled on the office couch analyzing data. Lando's head drooped onto your shoulder, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air crackled with tension.

"We shouldn't," you murmured, even as you turned to face him.

"Probably not," Lando agreed, his blue eyes flickering to your lips.

The kiss was inevitable, months of built-up attraction finally finding release. And then came another, and another.

When Lando suggested heading back to his place, you found yourself saying yes without hesitation.

Before you knew it, you were in his apartment, you could feel the tension in the air. Lando stepped closer, his hand cupping your cheek.

"I've been wanting to do this for a while," he murmured, before leaning in to kiss you again.

Clothes were shed as you made your way to his bedroom, falling onto his bed in a tangle of limbs.

The next morning, sunlight streams through unfamiliar curtains, and you blink awake, momentarily disoriented. Lando's sleeping form beside you brings the memories of last night flooding back.

Lando stirs, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Morning," he mumbles, a shy smile playing on his lips. "So... that happened."

You nod, unsure of what to say. "It did."

An awkward silence stretches between you, the weight of the previous night settling in. You would be lying if you said that you didn't enjoy it. You did. You enjoyed it a lot. But you knew the implications of getting close with someone like Lando Norris.

"Look, Iast night was great," finally, Lando speaks. "But my life, my career... it's complicated."

"I understand," you reply, trying to hide the embarrassment on your face, "I mean, we're work colleges after all, it's complicated for me too."

"I'm not saying I regret this," he quickly adds, "I just... I can't offer you something else right now."

You take a deep breath, weighing your options. "So what are you offering?"

"Honestly? I don't know," Lando runs a hand through his tousled hair, "But I'd like to keep seeing you, if you're okay with... not defining things?"

And so begins, your undefined journey with Lando Norris. From that moment, your relationship existed in a grey area. At work, you maintained professionalism, but stolen glances, brushed hands and the way your clothes always ended up in his bedroom floor told a different story.

You know it's not ideal, to have a situationship with Lando Norris. Not when you know you could really fall for him and jeopardize your job. But at the same time, you can't walk away.

You love you job so much, and the fact that you're willing to shut the rest of the world away in order to focus on what you needed to do proved it.

As the Japanese Grand Prix weekend unfolded, you found yourself buried in work. The Suzuka circuit always presented challenges, and you were determined to give the team every advantage possible.

You were so engrossed in your data analysis that you barely noticed Lando enter the temporary office setup. His hand on your shoulder made you jump.

"Christ, Lando! You scared me," you exclaimed, pulling off your headphones.

He grinned, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes. "Come with me," he said, taking your hand and gently pulling you up.

"Lando, I'm in the middle of-"

"It can wait," he insisted, leading you out of the office and towards his driver's room.

Once inside, he closed the door and leaned against it, watching you with an intensity that made your heart race.

"I miss you," he said simply.

You felt a pang of guilt. It had been weeks since you'd had any real time alone together. "I've been busy," you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

"Busy doing what?" Lando raised an eyebrow.

"Coming up with strategies so you can win races, actually," you retorted, a hint of challenge in your voice.

"Oh really? And how's that going?" he stepped closer, a teasing glint in his eye.

"Well, if you'd stop distracting me," you tilted your chin up defiantly, "Maybe I could finish and you'd find out."

Lando chuckled, closing the distance between you. His hands found your waist, pulling you against him. "Maybe I like distracting you," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You shivered involuntarily. "Lando..." you warned, but there was no real resistance in your voice.

"Tell me about these strategies," he said, his lips now trailing along your jawline. "How are you planning to make me faster?"

You struggled to maintain your train of thought as his touch sent sparks through your body. "Well," you managed, "I've been analyzing your cornering speeds and-"

Lando cut you off with a kiss, deep and passionate. When he pulled away, you were both breathless.

"Sorry," he grinned, not looking sorry at all. "You were saying?"

"You're impossible, you know that?"

Before he can even reply, you drag him for another kiss. His fingers tangled in your hair as he pulls you closer, your hands slid under his team shirt, tracing the lean muscles of his back.

When you broke apart, Lando's eyes were dark with desire.

"I thought I was the one who distracted you. Seems like you're just as needy as I am," he smirked, his voice low and teasing.

"Don't flatter yourself, Norris," you felt a blush creep up your cheeks, but matched his playful tone, "I'm just... thorough in my research."

Lando's laugh was warm against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. "Is that what we're calling it now?"

"We're not calling it a relationship, aren't we?" you blurted out before you could even think about it.

Lando's expression softened for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. But quickly, his trademark grin returned.

"Well, we're not calling it a relationship," he said, his tone light and teasing, "maybe we should call it a 'performance enhancement program'. You know, for the sake of the team."

You couldn't help but laugh, even as you felt a twinge in your chest at the casual deflection of the relationship topic. "Oh, is that what this is? And here I thought I was just your favorite data analyst."

"Oh, you definitely are," Lando murmured, leaning in for another kiss. "The very best at... analyzing my data."

You rolled your eyes at the innuendo but smiled despite yourself. "As tempting as it is to continue this 'program'," you said, gently pushing him back, "I really do need to get back to work. Those race strategies won't write themselves, you know."

"Fine, fine. Go make me faster on paper. But don't forget, I might need some hands-on analysis later."

"We'll see about that, hotshot," you replied, straightening your clothes and heading for the door. "Focus on your qualifying first."

It's late, well past midnight, when your phone buzzes with a text. You're still up, reviewing data from the day's practice sessions. The message is from Lando, of course.

"Room 507. Now. Please?"

You can't help but smile, imagining the impatience and desire behind those words. You type back:

"Demanding, aren't we? What if I'm busy?"

His reply comes quickly: "Busy with what? I know you're probably still working. Take a break. You deserve it.”

You laugh softly. "I deserve it, huh? Well, when you put it that way..."

"So you're coming?"

You pause, pretending to consider it, even though you both know you're already reaching for your room key. "I suppose I could spare a few minutes."

"There's my girl"

You slip out of your room, heart racing with anticipation. You've done this countless of times before, sneaking out of your hotel room to end up naked in Lando's, but you still felt like a teenage girl every single time.

The hotel corridor is quiet, your footsteps muffled by the plush carpet. You're so focused on reaching Lando's room that you almost collide with someone rounding the corner.

"Whoa, sorry!" You step back, then freeze as you realize it's Oscar, who looks equally surprised.

"Oh, hey. Bit late for a walk, isn't it?"

Your mind races, searching for a plausible excuse. "I, uh... couldn't sleep. Thought I'd grab some ice."

"Ice?" Oscar's brow furrows slightly, "At this hour?"

"Yeah, you know... for my water," you say lamely, cringing at how unconvincing you sound. "Helps me... think better. For work."

"Right," Oscar says slowly, clearly not buying it but too polite to press further. "Well, don't let me keep you from your... ice-enhanced thinking."

You force a laugh. "Thanks. Goodnight, Oscar."

As you hurry past him, you can feel his curious gaze on your back. You silently pray he doesn't mention this encounter to anyone else on the team.

One of the main reasons why you agreed to mess around with Lando without a label was exactly that, the fear of putting your job at risk. You worked hard for it, and you would never forgive yourself if you lost it due to getting in a relationship with one of the drivers.

Which lead you to getting in a goddamn situationship.

Finally reaching room 507, you knock softly. Lando opens the door almost immediately, pulling you inside with a grin.

"Took you long enough," he teases, his arms wrapping around your waist.

"Yeah, well, I just had to convince your teammate that I'm wandering the halls at 1 AM in search of ice. So thanks for that," you retort, but there's no real annoyance in your voice.

"You ran into Oscar?" Lando's eyes widen, "What did you tell him?"

"That I needed ice. For thinking."

"Ice for thinking?" he bursts out laughing. "That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey, you try coming up with a believable excuse on the spot!" you protest, swatting his arm playfully.

"Fair enough," Lando concedes, still chuckling. "Now, where were we? I believe you were going to help me with some... performance analysis?"

As Lando leans in, your lips meet in a passionate kiss. The tension that's been building all day finally releases as you melt into his embrace. His hands roam your body, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens.

"I've been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

"Oh really?" you tease, running your fingers through his hair. "I thought you were supposed to be focusing on your lap times."

"Who says I can't do both?"

Lando's lips find your neck, trailing kisses along your jawline. You tilt your head back, a soft sigh escaping your lips. Your hands slide under his t-shirt, tracing his sides.

He guides you towards the bed, your bodies pressed close together. As the back of your knees hit the mattress, you fall back, pulling Lando with you. He hovers over you, his weight supported on his forearms.

"You're beautiful," he whispers, his eyes roaming your face.

You reach up to cup his cheek, drawing him down for another kiss. This one is slower, deeper, filled with unspoken emotions.

As things heat up, clothes start to come off. Lando's shirt is the first to go, followed quickly by yours. Skin meets skin, and the world narrows down to just the two of you, lost in each other's touch.

The night stretches on, filled with whispered words, soft moans, and the rustle of sheets. You can't help but think that this undefined thing with Lando is getting more complicated by the day but you decide that's a problem for future you to worry about.

After an exhausting triple header across three different countries, you finally have a well-deserved two-week break.

The past few races have been grueling, with long nights analyzing data and strategizing for each track. While you love your job, the intense schedule has left you drained. Now back home, you decide it's time to unwind and have some fun with your friends.

It's Friday evening, and you're getting ready for a girls' night out. Usually, you’d spend your Friday with Lando, but this time you were dying for a chance to let loose, dance with your friends and forget about work for a while. 

And maybe, forget about your little situationship, too.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear, they say. Because as if on cue your phone starts buzzing with an incoming FaceTime call. Lando's name flashes on the screen.

You answer, propping the phone up on your dresser. "Hey, Lan," you greet him while still doing your makeup.

"Hey, you," he replies, his eyes widening slightly as he takes in your appearance. "Wow, you look hot. Are you going somewhere?"

You nod, turning back to the mirror to continue applying your eyeshadow. "Yep, heading out tonight. It's been ages since I've had a proper night out."

"Oh," Lando says, his tone curious. "Like, out out? Are you... um, going on a date or something?"

You can't help but smirk a little at his barely concealed interest. "Why, Lando Norris, are you fishing for information?" you tease. "I mean, I could be going on a date. We're not exclusive, after all."

Lando's expression falters for a moment before he catches himself, forcing a casual laugh. "No, no, of course not. I was just, you know, curious. Making conversation and all that."

You watch him in the phone screen, noticing how he's trying to play it cool but failing miserably. His jaw is tense, and he's fidgeting more than usual.

Taking pity on him, you decide to put him out of his misery. "Relax, Lando. It's just girls' night. After that triple header, I need to blow off some steam with my friends."

"Oh, right. Cool, cool," the relief on his face is palpable, "That sounds fun."

"Were you jealous, Norris?" you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Me? Jealous? Nah," he scoffs, but the slight blush creeping up his neck betrays him. "I mean, like you said, we're not... you know."

"Exclusive," you finish for him, feeling a familiar twinge in your chest at the word.

"Right," Lando nods, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Anyway, I hope you have a great time tonight. You deserve it after all the hard work these past few weeks."

"Thanks, Lan. I plan to."

"Call me if you need me to pick you up," Lando assures, making you smile softly. Maybe he actually cares about you, you think.

"Don't worry, I can handle myself."

Just as Lando was expecting, you call him around 2 AM, asking if he could come pick you up from the club.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s getting up, putting a hoodie on and grabbing his keys to leave the house.

His car pulls up outside the club about 15 minutes later. You make your way to the vehicle, sliding into the passenger seat with a giggle.

"Thanks for coming," you say, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Of course, love,” Lando looks you over, a playful smirk on his face. "Looks like someone had fun tonight."

“I did, but I missed you,” you say as he starts driving, you’re not sure if he’ll take you to your place or his, but you don’t want to sleep without him, "Oh! I have to tell you something,"

"Well do tell," he encourages, glancing at you with interest.

"There was this guy at the club," you begin, noticing how Lando's eyebrow quirks up. "He was really handsome, and he was flirting with me."

"Was he now?" Lando asks, his tone light but with an undercurrent of something else.

"Yup," you say, popping the 'p' sound. "I pushed him away. Because even though you might not be my boyfriend, I only want you. No one else."

Lando's lips curl into a pleased smile. "Is that so?" he says, his voice low and teasing. "And here I thought I was just your favorite Uber driver."

You burst into laughter, the sound filling the car. Then, feeling bold, you place your hand on his thigh. "Will you sleep with me tonight?"

Lando doesn't even flinch. Instead, he shoots you a mischievous look. "Just like that? Usually, I at least buy you dinner first."

You groan, moving your hand from his thigh but he quickly catches it and kisses your palm before resting it there again, “Of course I’ll stay with you, baby.”

As you arrive home, Lando helps you inside, his arm steady around your waist. You stumble a bit, giggling as you lean into him.

"Careful there," he says, "Let's get you sorted, shall we?"

He guides you to the kitchen, one hand on the small of your back. You hop onto a barstool, watching as he moves around your kitchen with surprising familiarity.

"Let's get some water in you," he says, filling a large glass. "And maybe some food too. When's the last time you ate?"

You scrunch your nose, trying to remember. "Um... before we went out? I think?"

Lando shakes his head, a fond smile on his face. "No wonder you're in this state. Drink this," he hands you the water, "and I'll make you a sandwich."

You sip the water obediently, watching him as he rummages through your fridge. "You don't have to do all this, you know," you say softly.

"I want to," he looks up at you, his eyes soft. "Let me take care of you, yeah?"

As you finish your water, he slides a plate with a sandwich in front of you. "Eat up, pretty girl. It'll help sober you up."

You take a bite, suddenly realizing how hungry you are. As you eat, Lando leans against the counter, watching you with amusement and something else you can't quite name.

"So," he says casually, "tell me about this handsome guy at the club."

You swallow your bite, looking up at him. "Jealous, Norris?"

"Just curious," he shrugs, a smirk playing at his lips. "You said you pushed him away?"

You nod, setting down the sandwich. "I did. He was nice, but... he wasn't you."

The words hang in the air between you, heavy with implication. Lando's eyes sparkle, but he doesn't say anything.

You slide off the barstool and step closer to him. Your hands find his chest and you lean in, pressing your lips to his. He kisses back, his hands settling on your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss deepens, and you feel a warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the alcohol.

But then Lando pulls away gently, resting his forehead against yours. "Let's go to sleep, pretty girl," he says, his voice low and a bit rough. "You need rest."

You pout, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt. "But I want you," you whisper, leaning in so your lips are inches from his.

"And you can have me," he says softly, cupping your face with one hand. "But right now we're going to sleep."

You start to protest, but he silences you with a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Come on, let's get you to bed."

As he leads you to the bedroom, Lando's mind is in turmoil. He's acutely aware of the growing feelings he has for you - feelings that go far beyond the casual arrangement you've had so far. The way his heart races when you're near, the constant urge to make you smile, the fierce protectiveness he feels - it all points to something deeper, that both thrills and terrifies him.

But with these feelings comes a familiar fear. Commitment has always been hard for him. The demands of his career, the pressure of the public eye, the fear of letting someone down - they all contribute to his hesitation. And yet, as he looks at you now, soft and vulnerable in his arms, he can't help but wonder if you might be worth the risk.

In the bedroom, he helps you change into comfortable sleepwear. As you both lay down, you curl into his side, your head on his chest. The steady beat of his heart is soothing, and you feel yourself starting to drift off.

"Lando?" you ask, your voice sleepy.

"Hmm?" His hand is running through your hair, the gesture comforting.

"Do you push away the beautiful girls that come up to flirt with you? Like I did tonight?"

You feel his chest rise with a deep breath. There's a pause before he answers, "I do," he says softly. "There's only one girl I'm interested in."

You lift your head slightly, trying to look at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Really? Who's that?"

He chuckles, the sound rumbling in his chest. "I think you know, pretty girl."

You're fighting sleep now, but you're determined to get an answer. "Well, I don't believe you," you mumble, the words slurring together. "Prove it."

Lando opens his mouth to reply, but he realizes you're already asleep, your breathing evening out. He looks down at you, a fond smile on his face. Pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers, "Maybe I'll show you soon."

The Hungarian Grand Prix has just concluded, and the atmosphere in the McLaren garage is torn between elation and tension.

Oscar has claimed his first Formula 1 victory, a monumental achievement for him and the team. However, the circumstances of his win have left a bitter taste in Lando's mouth, casting a shadow over what should have been a moment of pure celebration for everyone.

You're standing off to the side, your mind racing. The strategy call wasn't yours directly, but as part of the team, you can't help feeling partly responsible for the decision that affected both drivers.

As Lando storms into the garage, his face like thunder, you brace yourself for the fallout. His usual easy-going demeanor is nowhere to be seen, replaced by a storm of anger and disappointment. You've seen Lando upset before, but this felt different.

"Lando," you start, reaching out to him, your voice soft and tentative.

"Save it," he snaps, his blue eyes flashing with anger as he brushes past you. The coldness in his voice makes you flinch. "I don't want to hear it. Not from you, not from anyone."

For the rest of the day, Lando avoids you like the plague. You take separate flights home so you don't really see him or hear from him after you left the circuit.

Over the next few days, you try reaching out via text, each message more desperate than the last. But they go unanswered, each 'read' receipt another twist of the knife. This isn't like Lando, to shut everyone out so completely. You can't help but wonder if this is about more than just the race.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, you decide to go to his place. It's a risky move, you know, but the thought of leaving things like this is unbearable. Using the spare key he gave you months ago - a gesture that had felt so significant at the time - you let yourself in.

The apartment is quiet, but not empty. You can feel his presence, sense the tension in the air.

"Lando?" you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the silent space.

You hear movement from his bedroom, and soon enough he emerges, dressed to go out, and freezes when he sees you. His expression hardens, the warmth you're used to seeing in his eyes replaced by a cold, distant look. "What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, Lando," you say, your voice firm despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "You can't just shut me out like this. It's not fair, and it's not right."

"I don't have time for this right now," Lando's jaw clenches, his gaze darting away from yours, "I'm heading out."

"Of course you are," you say, unable to keep the bitterness from your voice. "Because going out and partying is so much easier than facing your problems, isn't it?"

His eyes narrow, a spark of anger igniting, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're running away," you say, taking a step closer. "From the race, from the team, from me. We're all just trying to do our best, Lando. The team made a call, and it worked out for the best. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it wasn't the best for me!" Lando explodes, his composure finally cracking. "Do you have any idea what it's like? To have victory in your grasp and then have it taken away? To be told that you're not good enough, that your teammate is the better choice?"

"That's not what happened, and you know it," you argue back, your own frustration bubbling over. "It was a strategic decision, not a judgment on your abilities. You're letting your ego cloud your judgment."

"My ego?" Lando's laugh is harsh and humorless, "That's rich, coming from someone who's never had to make these kinds of sacrifices."

The words hang in the air between you, sharp and cutting. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside you. You's never had an argument like this before.

"Fine," you say finally, your voice quiet but firm. "Go out if that's what you want. But don't call me when you're feeling lonely later tonight. I'm not just some convenient comfort for when you decide you need me."

Something flashes in Lando's eyes – hurt, perhaps, or regret. But it's quickly replaced by a hardness that makes your heart ache.

"Don't worry," he retorts, his voice cold. "I can always find another girl to keep me company. I don't need you for that."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take an involuntary step back. The undefined nature of your relationship, once thrilling in its potential, now feels like a weapon being used against you.

"Is that what this is to you?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper. "Just a convenient arrangement? Someone to warm your bed when you can't find anyone else?"

Lando's expression softens for a moment, regret flickering across his features. But he doesn't take back his words. Instead, he turns away, his hand on the front door.

"You know your way out." And with that, he's out of the door.

A week later, Formula 1 has moved to the iconic Spa-Francorchamps circuit in Belgium. The air is thick with anticipation - not just for the upcoming race, but for the looming summer break that follows.

You've thrown yourself into your work, burying your emotions under a mountain of data analysis and strategy planning. The tension between you and Lando hasn't gone unnoticed by the team, but thankfully, everyone's too focused on the upcoming race to pry.

You haven't spoke to Lando after your argument at his place, and you blocked his number, leaving him unable to contact you.

As you make your way through the paddock, your arms full of printouts and your mind racing with tire degradation calculations, you spot a familiar figure approaching. Lando, clad in his McLaren team shirt, is walking purposefully in your direction. Your heart rate spikes, and you quickly duck into a nearby hospitality area, pretending to be engrossed in conversation with a group of engineers.

This dance continues throughout the day. Lando tries to catch your eye during the team briefing, but you keep your gaze fixed on your tablet. He lingers near your station in the garage, but you find urgent errands that take you elsewhere. It's exhausting, this game of cat and mouse, but you're not ready to face him - not yet.

As the day winds down, you're making your final rounds, double-checking that everything is set for tomorrow's practice sessions. The paddock is quieter now, most team members having retired for the evening.

You're so focused on your checklist that you don't notice the approaching footsteps until it's too late.

"We need to talk," Lando's voice, firm and tinged with frustration, breaks the silence.

You spin around and Lando stands before you, his blue eyes intense and determined. He's changed out of his team shirt into a simple t-shirt and jeans, his hair slightly tousled as if he's been running his hands through it.

"Lando, I-" you begin, but he cuts you off.

"No, don't give me another excuse," he says, stepping closer. "We've been dancing around each other all day. Enough is enough."

Before you can protest, he gently but firmly takes your arm and starts guiding you towards the McLaren motorhome. You could resist, but something in his tone, a note of desperation perhaps, makes you comply.

The motorhome is quiet and dimly lit as Lando leads you inside and up to the second level where the drivers have their private areas. He ushers you into his room, closing the door behind you.

The space is unmistakably Lando's - a gaming setup in one corner, a few personal photos tacked to a board, his race suit hanging neatly on a hook. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, pacing for a moment before turning to face you.

"I'm sorry," he blurts out, the words tumbling from his lips as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't say them immediately. "I'm so sorry for how I acted, for what I said. It was awful, and you didn't deserve any of it."

You stand there, arms crossed, trying to maintain your composure even as a lot of emotions overwhelm you. "You were an asshole, Lando," you say quietly.

"I know," he nods, "I was angry and frustrated, but that's no excuse. I took it out on you when you were just trying to help." He takes a step closer, his eyes pleading. "I've been miserable this past week. I missed you so much, and the thought that I might have ruined everything between us… it's been killing me."

Despite your best efforts to stay strong, you feel your resolve weakening. You're weak when it comes to him, and you're pretty sure he knows it.

"I missed you too," you admit softly. "But Lando, we can't keep doing this. We can't just pretend everything's fine and then lash out at each other when things get tough."

"I know, I know," Lando nods eagerly. "I want to do better. I want to be better," he pauses for a moment, his gaze dropping to the floor before meeting your eyes again. "And I didn't go home with anyone that night, by the way,"

You furrow your brow, momentarily confused by the seemingly random statement. Then, like a flash, you remember his cruel words from that night in his house.

As you laid in bed the night of the argument, you couldn't help but wonder if Lando had gone home with someone else, and if that was how it worked when you were not there.

And it hurt more that you ever thought possible.

"Oh," you respond, aiming for nonchalance but not quite hitting the mark. "That's… I mean, you didn't have to tell me that. It's not like we're…"

You trail off, unsure how to finish that sentence. What are you, exactly?

Lando takes a step closer, his blue eyes intense as they lock with yours. "I know I don't have to tell you," he says, his voice low and earnest. "But I want you to know. I only want you to keep me company, not anyone else."

Your heart skips a beat at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. But almost immediately, a more cynical part of your mind chimes in. He wants you, but he doesn't want to be in a relationship with you. He wants the comfort, the intimacy, but not the commitment.

"Lando, I…" you begin, but the words catch in your throat. You want to ask for clarification, to define what this is between you, but fear holds you back.

Lando seems to sense your inner turmoil. He reaches out, gently taking your hand in his. "I know I messed up," he says softly. "And I know things between us are… complicated. But I mean what I said. You're the only one I want."

You look down at your joined hands, then back up at Lando's face. Despite despite the voice in your head warning you to be careful, you feel yourself giving in. The pull is too strong, the desire to be with him overpowering your rational mind.

"Okay," you whisper, squeezing his hand.

Lando's face breaks into a relieved smile, his eyes lighting up. He pulls you into another embrace, holding you close. You allow yourself to sink into his warmth, pushing your doubts to the back of your mind for now.

When you finally pull apart, Lando's expression is soft, almost reverent. "Are we good?" he asks, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

You take a deep breath, considering the question. Are you good? There's still so much left unsaid, so many questions unanswered. But looking at Lando, feeling the comfort of his presence, you can't bring yourself to disrupt this moment of peace between you.

"Yes," you say, managing a small smile. "We're good."

The early morning sunlight filters through the curtains of Lando's Monaco apartment. You stir slowly, consciousness creeping in as you become aware of the warm body next to you. Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the sight of Lando's peaceful sleeping face, his features relaxed and vulnerable in a way they rarely are when he's awake.

It's been two weeks since your conversation in the motorhome at Spa, and true to form, you and Lando had fallen back into your familiar rhythm without missing a beat. The race weekend had gone well, with both McLarens finishing in the points, and you'd flown to Monaco with Lando for the first part of the summer break without a second thought.

As you watch Lando sleep, you can't help but feel that being here with him feels right in a way that's hard to describe. You know that this thing between you, whatever it is, is a ticking time bomb if you don't define it soon. But every time you think about approaching the subject, fear holds you back.

So you've chosen to ignore it, to live in this blissful bubble for as long as you can. You tell yourself that you'll deal with it later, after the summer break, after the next race, after the season ends. There's always a reason to put it off.

Lando begins to stir, his eyelids fluttering open. When his gaze focuses on you, a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face. "Morning, beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep.

"Morning," you reply softly, unable to help the smile that mirrors his.

Lando reaches out, his hand cupping your cheek as he leans in for a kiss. It starts soft and sweet, but quickly deepens as he pulls you closer. His other hand trails down your side, leaving goosebumps in its wake. You sigh into the kiss, your own hands exploring the familiar planes of his chest and back.

As things start to heat up, Lando rolls you onto your back, hovering over you. His lips leave yours to trail kisses along your jaw and down your neck. You arch into him, your fingers tangling in his hair.

Just as things are about to progress further, there's a sharp knock at the front door.

"Ignore it," Lando whispers, leaning in to capture your lips again.

You lose yourself in the kiss for a moment before another, more insistent knock breaks through. Lando groans in frustration, dropping his forehead to your shoulder.

"I should probably see who that is," he sighs, reluctantly pulling away.

You watch as he gets out of bed, admiring the view as he pulls on a pair of sweatpants before heading downstairs.

Curious about who could be visiting so early, you decide to follow after a few minutes. You grab Lando's discarded t-shirt from the night before, pulling it on. It falls to mid-thigh, long enough to be decent for a quick peek downstairs.

As you descend the stairs, you hear familiar voices from the entryway. Your heart drops as you recognize the second voice - it's Max Verstappen. Panic sets in as you realize the compromising position you're in, but it's too late. You've already rounded the corner, coming face to face with both drivers.

For a moment, everything freezes. You stand there, a deer caught in headlights, wearing nothing but Lando's shirt. Max's eyes widen in surprise, darting between you and Lando. Lando looks equally shocked, clearly not expecting you to come downstairs.

Mortified, you turn on your heel and bolt back upstairs, your cheeks burning with embarrassment. As you retreat, you hear Max's voice, tinged with amusement and surprise.

"Dude, isn't that one of your strategists?"

You don't hear Lando's response as you shut the bedroom door behind you. This is exactly the kind of situation you'd been afraid of, the reason why leaving things undefined was so dangerous.

Downstairs, the conversation continues.

"Yeah, she is," Lando admits, running a hand through his hair nervously.

"Wow, okay," Max lets out a low whistle, "So… how long has this been going on? Please tell me it's recent and not, like, during the season or something."

Lando hesitates for a moment before answering. "It's… been a while actually. Over a year."

"A YEAR?!" Max exclaims, his voice rising in disbelief. "Lando, mate, are you serious? You've been hooking up with a team member for over a year and nobody knew?"

"It's not just hooking up," Lando defends, though his voice lacks conviction. "It's… complicated."

"Complicated?" Max raises an eyebrow, "Sounds like a disaster waiting to happen if you ask me. Does the team know?"

"No," Lando shakes his head, "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything. It's not affecting our work, so no one needs to know."

"Hey, not my circus, not my monkeys," Max holds up his hands in surrender, "But seriously, Lando, be careful. This kind of thing can blow up in your face if you're not careful."

They exchange a few more words before Max takes his leave, reminding Lando about their plans for later in the week. As soon as the door closes behind Max, Lando bounds up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

He finds you in the bedroom, already dressed in own clothes. You're pacing nervously, chewing on your bottom lip - a habit he knows you fall into when you're anxious.

"Hey," he says softly, approaching you cautiously. "I'm sorry about that. I didn't expect Max to show up unannounced."

You stop pacing, turning to face him. "It's fine," you say, but your voice is tight. "I should go."

"What? No, please don't go," Lando's face falls, "Max won't say anything, I promise. He may be a bit of a prat sometimes, but he can keep a secret."

"I'll just have a walk around the harbor, I'll be back," you say as you grab your phone from the nightstand.

"But why?" Lando asks, a note of panic creeping into his voice. "Is this because Max saw you? I swear, it's not a big deal."

"I'll meet you for lunch, okay? you say softly, avoiding Lando's gaze.

"Okay," he replies simply, not pushing for more.

Without further conversation, you gather your belongings and head for the door. Feeling more conflicted than ever before.

After Max caught you together in Monaco, you stayed a few more days with Lando before reluctantly going back home, and he took on a trip with his family. You don't really see him for the rest of the summer break, until he showed up at your place two weeks before it was time to get back to work.

"So," Lando says as you laid in bed, "ready to go back to being all professional and proper soon, Ms. Strategist?"

"Oh, I'm always professional, Norris. It's you who can't keep your eyes off me during briefings."

"Me? Lando gasps in mock offense, "I'll have you know I'm the picture of focus and concentration."

"Sure," you drawl, "That's why you kept 'accidentally' brushing against me in the garage."

He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Can you blame me? You're irresistible when you're talking about tire strategies."

You laugh, pushing him away playfully, trying to ignore the flutter in your stomach at his proximity. "Smooth talker. Is that how you charm all the girls?"

"Nah," he grins, pulling you back towards him. "Just the brilliant, beautiful ones who can calculate pit stop windows in their sleep."

Your breath catches as he nuzzles your neck, his stubble tickling your skin. For a moment, you consider bringing up the conversation you've been avoiding all summer. "Lando," you murmur, "we should probably talk about-"

He silences you with a kiss, deep and passionate. "Or," he says, his eyes dark with desire, "we could make the most of our night."

You know you should resist, that you should have that conversation you've been avoiding. But as Lando's hands start to wander, you find your resolve weakening, as always.

You don't really hear from Lando after that night. He says goodbye after breakfast the following day, and then it's radio silence.

You try not to think too much of it, the break is coming to an end and he has responsibilities and work to go, it's not personal, you try to convince yourself.

But your mind can't help but wander. Is he with someone else? Is he avoiding you? Did you make him upset and you failed to notice?

But you don't dare to bring it up to him. He's not your boyfriend, after all.

The transition back to work after the summer break is jarring. The McLaren Technology Centre buzzes with activity as everyone prepares for the upcoming race. You're immediately swept up in meetings, data analysis, and strategy sessions. Despite working in the same building, you and Lando barely cross paths for days. The few times you do see him from afar, he's always surrounded by engineers or caught up in simulator work.

Finally, the team arrives at Zandvoort Circuit for the Dutch Grand Prix. The atmosphere of the paddock envelops you as you make your way to the McLaren garage, your arms full of strategy documents and your mind racing with last-minute considerations for the race.

As you approach, you spot Lando and Oscar chatting animatedly near the entrance. Your heart does a little flip at the sight of Lando, and you can't help but smile. You've missed him more than you care to admit.

"Morning, boys," you call out, aiming for a casual tone as you near them.

They both turn, matching grins spreading across their faces. "Hey there, stranger," Lando says, his eyes twinkling with that familiar mischief that never fails to make your stomach flutter.

Oscar, ever the gentleman, moves to take some of the papers from your arms. "Let me help you with those. How was your break?"

You smile gratefully, handing him a stack of documents. "Thanks, Oscar. It was lovely, very relaxing. How about yours?"

As Oscar launches into a story about his time back home in Australia and his trip with his girlfriend, you can't help but steal glances at Lando.

He looks good - tanned and relaxed, with a hint of stubble that you know from experience feels delightfully rough against your skin. You quickly push that thought aside, reminding yourself of where you are.

"Oh, that reminds me," Oscar says suddenly, turning to Lando with a sly grin. "How did that lunch go the other day? With Emma?"

You feel your body tense involuntarily. Lunch? Emma? Who's Emma?

Lando's eyes widen slightly, and he shoots a quick glance your way before looking back at Oscar. "Oh, uh, it was fine. Just a casual thing, you know."

But Oscar, oblivious to the sudden tension, presses on. "Come on, mate, don't be modest. Emma told Lily it went really well. Said you two really hit it off."

You feel as if all the air has been sucked out of your lungs. The documents in your arms suddenly feel impossibly heavy.

Lando runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you've come to recognize. "It wasn't… I mean, it was just lunch, Oscar. Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm just saying," Oscar continues, still grinning, "she seems really into you. Might be worth giving it a shot, yeah? It's about time you settled down with someone nice."

You can't bear to hear any more. "I should get these to the engineers," you mutter, already turning away. "See you guys later."

As you walk away, you hear Lando call out your name, but you don't stop. You can't stop. If you stop, you might fall apart right there in the middle of the paddock.

You make it to the back of the garage before you hear rapid footsteps behind you. "Hey, wait up," Lando's voice comes from behind you, slightly out of breath.

You turn slowly, trying to school your features into a neutral expression. "What is it, Lando? I'm kind of busy."

He looks at you, his eyes searching your face. "About what Oscar said… it's not what you think."

"What do I think, Lando?" you raise an eyebrow, fighting to keep your voice steady. "We never defined what this is, remember? You're free to have lunch with whoever you want."

"It was just a favor for Oscar," Lando steps closer, lowering his voice. "His girlfriend's friend is new in town, and they asked if I'd show her around. That's all it was, I swear."

You want to believe him. God, how you want to believe him. But the memory of those blissful days during the summer break, followed by days of silence and now this… it's too much.

"Look, Lando," you say, hating how your voice wavers slightly, "we both knew this couldn't last. We have jobs to do, careers to think about. Maybe… maybe this is for the best."

"What? No, that's not…" Lando starts, reaching for your arm, but you step back.

"I really need to get these to the engineers," you say, gesturing with the documents still clutched to your chest like a shield. "We should both focus on the race this weekend. That's what we're here for, right?"

Without waiting for a response, you turn and walk away, your vision blurring slightly as you blink back tears. You can feel Lando's gaze boring into your back, but you don't turn around. You can't.

As you round the corner, out of sight from the main garage, you lean against the wall for a moment, taking deep breaths to compose yourself. The rational part of your brain knows you're overreacting, that you should hear Lando out. But the emotional part, the part that's been dreading this moment since this situationship began, is in full fight or flight mode.

With one final deep breath, you push off the wall and head towards the engineering room, burying your personal turmoil beneath layers of race strategy and tire calculations. Lando Norris was consuming every part of you.

The tension between you and Lando remains palpable throughout the race weekend. You both maintain focused on your jobs, but there's a hint that something is not right with you.

The truth is, your situation with Lando has been consuming you for weeks now. What started as a casual arrangement has grown into something much deeper, at least for you.

The more time you spend with Lando, the harder you fall for him. And it's terrifying. Being casual isn't enough anymore; it hasn't been for a while. You've reached a point where you don't think you can continue this way. The pain of loving him in secret, of always being on the edge of something more but never quite reaching it, is becoming unbearable. You need clarity, commitment - or you need to walk away before you lose yourself completely.

To make matters more complicated, Lando wins the race at Zandvoort, securing his second victory of the season—one he had been craving since Miami. Your heart breaks even more as you realize you can't even celebrate this moment with him properly. Watching him on the podium, champagne in hand and pure joy radiating from his face, you feel like crying right there.

You want to run to him, throw yourself into his arms and celebrate with him, tell him how proud you feel and how much he deserves this. But you can't, not until whatever is going on between you gets sorted out.

It's not until after the race, when the celebrations cool down and the team begins to pack up, that Lando finally corners you in a quiet moment.

"Can we talk?" he asks, his voice low and urgent. "Please?"

You hesitate, glancing around the garage. Most of the team is busy with post-race duties, paying you no attention. With a sigh, you nod and follow Lando to a more secluded area behind the motorhome.

"First of all, congratulations on the win. You really deserve it," you say as soon as you're alone, trying to keep your voice steady.

Lando gives you a bittersweet smile. "Thanks, but that's not what occupies my mind right now," he replies, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that makes your heart race, "I don't understand what happened back there. Why won't you believe me about Oscar's friend?"

You cross your arms, a defensive posture you're all too aware of. "It's not just about her, Lando. It's… everything."

"What do you mean, everything?" he asks, brow furrowed.

"I mean this whole situation," you take a deep breath, trying to organize your thoughts, "I thought I could handle it, but…"

"But what?" Lando steps closer, his voice softening, "Talk to me, please."

"But it's getting harder," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Every time I see you with someone else, every time we have to pretend there's nothing between us, it hurts a little more."

Lando reaches for your hand, and this time you don't pull away. "You're the only one I want," he says earnestly. "You have to know that."

You let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head. "You always say that, Lando. But you still won't fully commit to me. It's hard to believe it when you won't put a label on us, when you go out with other women-"

"That wasn't a date," Lando interrupts, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. "I told you, it was just a favor for Oscar."

"I know, I know," you say, pulling your hand away and running it through your hair. "But that's not the point. The point is, I don't know where I stand with you. We've been doing this dance for over a year now, and I still don't know what we are to each other."

"I thought you were okay with this. With us staying without a label. You agreed to keep things casual."

"I was okay with it," you turn away, blinking back tears. "But it's not enough anymore. At least, not for me."

There's a long moment of silence. When you turn back, Lando is staring at the ground, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

"What are you saying?" he asks finally, his voice small.

"I'm saying that I can't do this anymore, Lando," you say firmly, "I want more. I need more."

"We agreed it was too complicted," Lando looks up at you, his eyes wide and vulnerable, "That we couldn't be in a relationship."

"I know what we agreed," you say, your voice cracking slightly. "But feelings change. People change. I've changed, Lando. And I can't keep putting my heart on hold for a someday that might never come."

Lando steps forward, reaching for you again. "Please, don't do this. We can figure it out. I'll try to be more open about us. We can tell our friends."

You shake your head, cutting him off. "It's not just about telling people, Lando. It's about commitment. It's about knowing that when I go home at night, I'm not just someone in your bed. It's about building a future together, not just living for the moment."

"I don't know if I can give you that. Not right now," Lando's face falls. "My career is at a great point, and-"

"And mine isn't?" you interrupt, a flash of anger cutting through your sadness. "Do you think I'm not risking just as much as you are? If not more? But I'm willing to take that risk because what we have… what we could have… it's worth it to me."

You watch as emotions play across Lando's face - confusion, fear, longing. Finally, he speaks, his voice barely audible. "I don't want to lose you."

Your heart aches, but you stand your ground. "Then give me a reason to stay, Lando. Show me that I'm more than just a convenient distraction between races."

Lando opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand to stop him. "Don't answer now. Think about it. Really think about what you want. Because I can't keep going on like this. It's not fair to either of us."

With that, you turn and walk away, leaving Lando standing alone behind the motorhome. As you make your way back to the garage, you can feel the weight of unshed tears burning behind your eyes. But you don't let them fall. Not here, not now.

You've laid your cards on the table. Now it's up to Lando to decide what he's willing to do with them.

The Monza race weekend flies by in a whirlwind of noise and action. You keep yourself busy, diving deep into numbers and race plans to avoid thinking about your feelings. It's easier to focus on tire strategies and pit stop timings than to deal with the ache in your chest every time you see Lando.

When you do have to talk to Lando, you both act normal and professional. But there's a tension in the air between you, like a tight rubber band ready to snap. You catch others giving you worried looks sometimes, and it makes you feel even more on edge.

Lando has not given you any kind of response to your talk in Zandvoort, and it's been just a week, but you feel like you know his answer. He's not willing to give you what you ask for. And it hurts, more than you can say.

As Sunday night gets closer, whispers of Carlos Sainz's birthday celebration begin to circulate through the paddock. You know Lando will definitely go - he and Carlos are really close friends. A small part of you wishes you could go too. You imagine laughing with your coworkers, having a drink, and forgetting about all the drama for a while.

But then you think about seeing Lando there. You picture having to smile and act like everything's fine when it's not. The thought of making awkward small talk with him, or worse, seeing him chatting happily with someone else, makes your stomach churn. It feels like too much to handle right now.

In the end, the thought of facing Lando and all those people is just too much. You decide to skip the party, even though a part of you feels guilty and a bit left out. But the relief you feel at making this decision tells you it's the right choice for now.

As the sun begins to set after the race and everyone gets ready for the party, you retreat to your hotel room. You order room service – a plate of pasta that you barely touch – and settle in for a quiet evening alone. You try to lose yourself in a book, but the words blur on the page, your mind constantly wandering to thoughts of Lando. Is he at the party now? Is he having fun? Is he thinking of you at all?

Meanwhile, at Carlos' birthday celebration, Lando finds himself struggling to enjoy the party. He mingles half-heartedly, his laugh a beat too late, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. He can't help but scan the room periodically, hoping against hope that you might have changed your mind and decided to come.

Max, observant as ever and knowing his friend too well, notices Lando's distraction and pulls him aside.

"You alright, mate?" Max asks, "You look like you'd rather be anywhere but here."

Lando sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Is it that obvious?"

Max nods, taking a sip of his drink. "Want to talk about it?"

For a moment, Lando considers brushing it off, but the weight of the past week suddenly feels too heavy to bear alone. "It's about her," he admits quietly.

Max doesn't need to ask who 'her' is. By now he knows the situation his friend is caught up in, "Trouble in paradise?" he asks.

"More like paradise lost," Lando lets out a humorless laugh, "I think I really messed up, Max. I was so worried about keeping things casual, about not complicating our working relationship, that I didn't realize how fucked up the whole thing was."

"So what are you going to do about it?" Max asks.

Lando looks around the room, at the laughing faces and clinking glasses, and suddenly feels very out of place. "I don't know. I just know I can't be here right now. Not when things are like this between us."

"Then go," he says simply. "Go find her. Talk to her. Life's too short for regrets, especially in our line of work."

Lando looks at Max, a hint of his usual playful smile returning despite the situation. "When did you become so wise, Verstappen? Did all those championship trophies finally knock some sense into you?"

"Someone has to be the voice of reason around here," Max rolls his eyes, but there's a fond smile on his face, "Now go on, get out of here before Carlos finds you and makes you stay, I'll distract him."

"Thanks, Max. I owe you one," Lando chuckles, patting his back.

"You owe me several, but who's counting?" Max grins, clapping Lando on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl."

With a newfound sense of purpose, Lando slips out of the party. His heart pounds as he makes his way to your hotel, not even sure if you would want to talk to him.

When he's finally standing in front of you door, he knocks softly, hope and fear warring in his chest as he waits for you to answer.

You're curled up on the bed, still trying and failing to focus on your book, when you hear the knock. Confused, you glance at the clock - it's barely past 10 PM. The party should still be in full swing. Who could be at your door?

As you pad over to the door and peer through the peephole, your breath catches in your throat. It's Lando, looking slightly disheveled, his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

You hesitate, your hand on the doorknob. Part of you wants to fling the door open and throw yourself into his arms. But another part, the part that's been hurt and confused for the past week, holds you back.

Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you slowly open the door, trying to keep your expression neutral despite the emotions inside you.

"Lando?" you say, trying to sound calm even though your heart is racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be at Carlos' party."

Lando looks a bit messy, like he rushed over. He shifts from foot to foot, looking nervous. "I was," he says. "But I couldn't stay. Not when you weren't there."

You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms. You're trying to protect yourself, even though you want to believe him. "You left your best friend's birthday party early because of me?"

Lando nods, looking right at you. His eyes are so intense it makes your heart beat even faster. "Can I come in? I think we need to talk."

You hesitate for a moment. You're scared of getting hurt again, but you also really want to hear what he has to say, even if it breaks your heart. Finally, you step back and let him in.

As he passes by, you catch a whiff of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of the paddock - a combination that's uniquely Lando and achingly familiar.

Lando walks into the room, running a hand through his hair. "I've been doing a lot of thinking this past week," he begins, turning to face you. "About us."

Your heart starts to race, but you force yourself to remain calm. "And?" you prompt, when he doesn't continue.

"And you were right. About everything," Lando takes a deep breath, "I've been so focused on not complicating things, that I didn't realize how much I was hurting you.”

"Lando, I-"

"Please, let me finish," Lando interrupts you softly, "The truth is, I've been scared. Terrified, actually. Of commitment, of letting someone in completely, of potentially damaging our careers if things went wrong. But this past week without you… it's been hell", he takes a step closer to you, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I've dated before, had relationships, but nothing has ever felt like this. What we have… it's different. Special. And I've been an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

Your breath catches in your throat as Lando continues, his words coming faster now, as if he's afraid he'll lose his nerve if he doesn't get them all out. "I kept telling myself that keeping things casual was the smart thing to do. That it was protecting both of us. But all I've done is push you away and make you doubt how much you mean to me."

He runs a hand through his hair, a gesture you've seen him do countless times when he's nervous or frustrated. "The truth is, I'm crazy about you. I think about you all the time. When something good happens, you're the first person I want to tell. When something goes wrong, you're the one I want to turn to. And it scares the hell out of me because I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Your heart is pounding so hard you're sure Lando must be able to hear it. You want to speak, to tell him how much his words mean to you, but you can see he's not finished yet.

"I know I've messed up. I know I've hurt you by not being clear about my feelings, by not giving you the commitment you deserve. And I'm so, so sorry for that," Lando's voice cracks slightly, and you can see the sincerity in his eyes. "But if you're willing to give me another chance, I want to do this right. No more hiding, no more pretending we're just casual. I want to be with you, properly. I want to tell our friends, take you on proper dates. I want everything."

He takes another step closer, close enough now that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. "I can't promise it'll be easy. Our careers, the media attention, the travel - it's all going to be complicated. But I'm willing to fight for this, for us, if you are."

You stand there, momentarily stunned by Lando's words. Your mind is racing, trying to process everything he's just said. You've dreamed of hearing something like this from him for so long, but now that it's happening, you find yourself almost paralyzed.

Taking a shaky breath, you finally find your voice. "Lando, I… I don't know what to say. This is everything I've wanted to hear from you, but I'm scared too. What if we try this and it doesn't work out? What if we end up ruining our friendship, our work relationship?"

Lando's hand finally makes contact with your cheek, his touch impossibly gentle. "Those are all valid fears," he says softly. "And I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the same things. But I think what we have is worth the risk. Don't you?"

You lean into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment as you savor the feeling. When you open them again, you see Lando looking at you with such tenderness it makes your heart ache.

"I do," you whisper. "I really do. But Lando, I need you to be sure, if we do this, I need all of you. No more half measures, no more hiding."

Lando nods, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm sure. I want all of you, and I want to give you all of me in return."

The sincerity in his voice, the look in his eyes - it's everything you've been longing for. Unable to resist any longer, you close the distance between you and press your lips to Lando's. The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as if you're both afraid this moment might shatter. But then Lando's arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the kiss deepens.

It's not your first kiss, not by a long shot, but it feels different this time. There's a promise in this kiss, a commitment that wasn't there before.

You pour all your pent-up emotions - the longing, the frustration, the love you've been holding back. Lando responds with equal passion, one hand tangling in your hair while the other presses against the small of your back.

When you finally break apart, Lando rests his forehead against yours, a smile playing on his lips.

"I've missed you so much," he murmurs. The relief and happiness that flood Lando's face are beautiful to see.

"I've missed you too," you admit. "More than I wanted to admit, even to myself."

Lando's hands start to wander, tracing patterns on your back that make you shiver, you melt at his touch, but then your mind starts racing again.

"Where do we go from here, Lan?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando takes a moment to consider your question, his hands still gently caressing your back. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of tenderness and determination.

"Well," he starts, a small smile playing on his lips, "I think we take it one step at a time. We don't need to rush anything, but we also don't need to hide anymore."

You nod, encouraging him to continue.

"First things first," Lando says, his voice growing more confident, "I want to take you on a proper date. No sneaking around, no pretending we're just colleagues grabbing a quick bite. I want to take you somewhere nice, hold your hand in public, and not care who sees us."

The thought makes your heart flutter. "I'd like that," you reply softly.

You wrap your arms around him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel truly happy and hopeful about the future.

"So," Lando says after a moment, a hint of mischief in his voice, "since I left Carlos' party early to come here... does that mean I get to stay the night?"

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. "Cheeky," you tease, but there's no real accusation in your voice. Instead, you lean in and kiss him.

As the kiss intensifies, you both start moving towards the bed, hands roaming and clothes starting to come off. This time, there's no holding back, no pretending this is just a casual thing. Every touch, every kiss is infused with the promise of something lasting.

Two weeks later, you're in Baku for the Azerbaijan Grand Prix.

You're in the McLaren garage, eyes fixed on your tablet as you analyze the latest telemetry data. The familiar sounds of mechanics working and engineers discussing strategy fill the air, but you're completely focused on your task.

Suddenly, you sense a pair of eyes on you. Without turning, a smile tugs at your lips. You know exactly who it is.

"See something you like?" you ask playfully, still not looking up from your work.

You hear a low chuckle, then feel a warm presence behind you. "Just admiring my girlfriend," Lando's voice is soft, meant only for your ears.

He wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you gently against him. His lips brush your shoulder in a tender kiss that sends a shiver down your spine.

The past fortnight has been a whirlwind of emotions and adjustments. True to his word, Lando has taken you on proper dates and you've made your relationship official. You still feel giddy every time Lando calls you his girlfriend, a fact that hasn't escaped his notice. He seems to take particular joy in introducing you as such, his eyes always seeking out your reaction.

"How's the data looking?" he says, giving you a quick squeeze.

"Pretty good, actually," you turn back to your tablet, but remain in his loose embrace. "Your last practice session showed some promising improvements in sector two."

"That's my girl," Lando murmurs, pride evident in his voice. "Always making me look good."

You chuckle, elbowing him gently. "You do that all on your own, superstar. I just provide the numbers."

You turn in Lando's arms, facing him with a soft smile. The garage bustles around you, but in this moment, it feels like you're in your own little bubble.

"You know," you say, your voice low, "I never thought I'd be standing here like this with you. In the middle of the garage, no less."

Lando's eyes crinkle as he grins, his hands resting comfortably on your waist. "Having second thoughts?" he teases.

"Not at all," you shake your head, your smile widening. "It's just different. Good different."

"The best kind of different," Lando agrees, echoing his words from that night in your hotel room.

"I should probably get back to work," you say reluctantly, not making any move to step away.

Lando nods, but doesn't loosen his hold on you. "Probably," he agrees, a mischievous glint in his eye. "But first…"

He leans in, pressing a quick but tender kiss to your lips. It's brief, mindful of your surroundings, but filled with promise.

As he pulls back, you can't help but laugh softly. "You're incorrigible, you know that?"

"You love it," Lando grins, finally releasing you from his embrace.

"I do," you admit, your heart full. "Now go on, superstar. You've got a car to drive soon."

As you watch him blow you a kiss which made you throw your head back in laughter as he left, your heart feels full.

You and Lando. Lando and You. Finally, together.

[ourdawnishotterthanourday]

RAW [M] — Lee Seokmin

✧ If you're a freak and you know it, clap them cheeks ✧

In which Seokmin, your sweet doting boyfriend, fucks you raw for the first time, and ends up discovering his kinky side.

✧ Genre: domestic AU; SMUT [18+], established relationship ♥ Pairing: female!reader x boyfriend!Lee Seokmin ✧ Word count: 6.3k+ ✦ Warnings: nsfw warnings under the cut! ✎ Notes: hope y'all enjoy this little seok fic I wrote for you 🤭 was feeling a little feral, so this concept fit my mood perfectly hehe ♕ Shout out:  thanks to my amazing bestie @whipped-for-kpop-fics for making me this masterpiece of a banner AND helping me brainstorm for this one. This one really couldn't have happened without you and your shrexy brain! I love youuuuu 💖 and thank you thank you thank you @wonuvs for beta-reading this for me!! Very much appreciated :3

♡ REBLOGGING AND/OR FEEDBACK WOULD BE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED — DON'T BE A STRANGER PLS ♡

nsfw warnings: outdoor/public sex, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, spanking, raw sex (the title is there for a reason hehe), heavy breeding kink, feral seok dirty talk, messy creampie (pls let me know if I missed any!)

You had every intention to hang the wet laundry out to dry on this beautiful sunny day. It was a simple task, really, one you could have completed in less than five minutes had you not let yourself get distracted. 

Said distraction came in the form of Lee Seokmin, your sweet doting boyfriend of four years, who had decided to take advantage of the nice weather and switch his usual gym session for a home workout in your garden.

It was quite the sight as he sat on the weight bench, his gorgeous sun-kissed arms and legs on full display, toned muscles pulling and coiling with every raise of his arms. His skin was coated in a thin layer of sweat, making his brown locks stick messily to his forehead. It was almost as if he was chiseled by the gods themselves with how absolutely breathtaking he looked in the bright and glowy sunlight.

You had to resist looking over every few seconds as you attempted to put the laundry pieces on the clothes line. But as the minutes passed, you quickly discovered that trying to suppress the urge to gawk at your hot boyfriend was a battle you weren’t going to win, especially when he was constantly releasing those sinful grunts that sent your mind into a frenzy. 

Before you knew it, the laundry was long forgotten. The only thing that was going through your mind in that moment was how much you wanted — no, needed — to feel Seokmin’s sweaty body against yours. Thanks to your busy and exhausting schedules, it had been a few days since you and your boyfriend last had sex, which, with a sex drive as high as yours, had driven your need for the man to an all time high. 

It was time to do something about that.

Your legs were already moving on their own accord as your hungry gaze settled on Seokmin’s thick thighs, a mischievous smile overtaking your features as you planned out your next move.

Your boyfriend was completely lost in his own world, totally oblivious to the thirsty thoughts floating around in your head as you crept up on him. The headphones he wore drowned out any distracting sounds as he focused on his reps, and with his eyes fully closed, he did not hear you approach him until it was already too late. 

“What the f— baby?!” Seokmin nearly dropped the two 8kg dumbbells he was holding when you jumped him out of nowhere, trapping him with your arms and legs like a clingy koala. 

“That’s me.” You giggled at the dazed look on your boyfriend’s face as you uncovered his ears.   

“What’s the meaning of this?” he breathed, carefully lowering his arms to place the dumbbells into the grass.

You licked your lips, shifting your hips slightly to get more comfortable. “What does it look like?”

“Like you’re trying to kill me,” he groaned before firmly planting his hands onto your sides to get you to stop rubbing against his crotch. 

A sly grin tugged at the corners of your mouth. “That’s what I was trying to go for.” 

“Oh, were you now?” He raised his eyebrows. “I was almost done with my workout, you know?”

“Hmm, that really sucks then.” You tangled your fingers in his messy hair. 

“Give me five more minutes,” he mumbled, briefly closing his eyes at the feeling of your nails scratching along his sensitive scalp. 

“No,” you whined, immediately stopping all movement, much to your boyfriend's disappointment. “I need attention now. It's been too fucking long already.”

You didn't care how whiney you sounded. You needed him right at this moment, and you sure as hell weren't going to wait another minute, especially not for him to finish his damn workout. 

“But I'm sweaty,” he argued with a scrunch of his nose. 

You smirked at that, tightening your grip on his hair as you moved in closer, your lips now less than an inch apart. 

“Even better,” you whispered before teasingly brushing your lips against his. “You're fucking hot when you're sweaty,” you continued, which was followed by you shifting your hips once again, this time with a little more force. 

Seokmin released a sharp hiss at the throbbing sensation your hips left in their wake. The muscles in his thighs automatically tightened, and so did the grip on your waist, all of which you were more than excited about. You got him right where you wanted, and it was only a matter of time before he would take the bait. 

“You're the devil.”

“Only when I have to be.” You grinned, your big twinkling eyes glued to his face as you slowly began to trail one of your hands down his chest. You only stopped when you reached the now very prominent bulge in his black shorts. 

“Fucking hell,” Seokmin cursed under his breath when you gave him a little experimental squeeze. It was just a simple touch, but he already felt the arousal gradually starting to overtake his mind and body. Just a minute ago, he’d been in full workout mode, but now he suddenly couldn’t stop imagining you stuffed full with his cock, begging him to make you cum again and again until you could no longer move. 

You took advantage of the moment and closed the little bit of distance between you to pull him into a deep kiss. Seokmin didn’t resist, already having decided that he’d much rather spend his time pleasuring his pretty and horny girlfriend instead of finishing the remainder of his stupid arm reps. Besides, you were right. It had been a while since he’d gotten his dick wet, so if you wanted to change that, who was he to object?

It only took a few seconds before Seokmin’s lips were just as hungry and forceful as yours, pulling at your mouth with an eagerness that made your gut clench with anticipation. 

His hands navigated down to the swell of your ass, fingers digging roughly into the soft fabric of the yellow sundress you were wearing to press you into his growing erection. You moaned into the kiss at the sudden shift, your own hands moving to grasp at whatever piece of bare skin you could find as you felt yourself grow hotter by the second. 

Your patience was slowly beginning to run thin the longer you sat in his lap with your panties soaked and your neglected cunt begging to be filled. You honestly hadn't felt this needy in a while, so you really didn't want to deprive yourself of Seokmin’s dick for much longer. And you prayed that he felt the same. 

You knew the man liked to drag the whole thing out with a shit ton of foreplay, which often included endless make out sessions and bringing you to multiple squirting climaxes before he even got to fuck you. It was the whole reason sex with Seokmin had become one of your favorite pastime activities in the first place. 

Your boyfriend was a natural at pleasuring you, and he had been since day one. You quickly learned that faking pleasure and Seokmin could never belong in the same sentence. In fact, more often than not, you’ve had to beg him to stop making you cum for fear of passing out from over stimulation. But even in those moments, he usually still managed to pull another few mind-shattering orgasms out of you like the magician he was, and you were certainly not complaining. 

It was just that right now, in this particular moment, you needed him to skip the long foreplay and fastforward to the part where he fucked you stupid. 

“Min, I need you inside me so bad,” you whimpered in between kisses, hoping your boyfriend would get the hint and give you just that. 

He did not get it. 

All you got out of it was an appreciative grunt and a harsh squeeze to your backside that did nothing to satiate the pulsing ache in your pussy. 

Accepting that you were just going to have to speed things up yourself, your hand sneakily found the waistband of his shorts, fingers already tugging the material out of the way to grab a hold of his hard dick. If everything worked out in your favor, you'd be sitting on it within the next twenty seconds. 

“Fuck, baby,” Seokmin groaned, one of his hands clasping around your wrist before you even had the chance to wiggle your hand inside his shorts. “Why don't we go inside before we start ripping off clothes, hmm?”

“No.” Confusion. That’s the emotion that flashed across your boyfriend’s face at the sound of your outright no. 

“No? But I thought you wanted to…?” He frowned, slightly loosening his hold on you when he thought you didn’t want to continue. 

You quickly wrapped his arms back around your waist before grasping his face in your hands. 

“Oh, I do.” A cheeky grin pulled at your mouth. “Right here. You're fucking me here.”

“Right here? O-outside?” Seokmin stuttered, his eyes nearly bulging out of his head as he seemed to process your words. 

Although your sex life was pretty active and more than satisfying, you couldn’t exactly call it adventurous. Despite many of your close friends believing that you and Seokmin were a couple of kinky fuckers, your sexual escapades were usually limited to your bedroom and definitely more on the vanilla side of the spectrum. 

Not that there was anything wrong with that, of course. On the contrary, even the most vanilla sex with him felt a hundred times better than the riskier and more experimental sex you’d engaged in with some of your exes, so you didn’t even really miss it. Still, sometimes — like right now — you wished he’d just throw you around and fuck you into the next day for everyone to see. 

You were, however, very much aware that asking him to fuck you in the garden was a complete one-eighty from your usual bedroom adventures, and it could potentially get you caught by your nosy old neighbors, which was definitely a con. But then again, you were feeling unusually risky today, so you honestly couldn't care less who got to see you getting railed. Your only concern right now was soothing the ache in your throbbing cunt. 

All you had to do was convince your lovely, handsome boyfriend to make that happen. 

“Yes, right here.” You nodded and reached up to undo the first two buttons of your dress, taking note of how your boyfriend's eyes automatically gravitated towards your fingers. “Got a problem with that?”

“Well, uh…” Seokmin swallowed thickly as you popped three more buttons, exposing the strapless, lacy, white see-through bra you were wearing underneath. Your hard peaks were poking right through the flimsy material, which made it nearly impossible for him to rip his eyes away from the arousing sight. Your boyfriend was a sucker for your boobs — or any part of your body for that matter — which is exactly why you hoped the next part of your plan would work.

“I think— uh…” He tried to form a coherent sentence, but failed terribly when you popped another three buttons, his eyes following diligently as your action revealed the smooth skin of your stomach. “What I’m trying to s— that…”

By the time you popped the remaining three buttons, Seokmin had completely forgotten what he was going to say. His eyes were practically glued to your body, in particular to the matching see-through panties that left little to the imagination. They gave him a perfect view of your puffy folds and the arousal seeping through the already drenched material. 

Seokmin was — understandably —  having a hard time keeping it all together.

“Well?” You suppressed a grin to hide the fact that you were thoroughly enjoying the effect you had on your handsome boyfriend. “You gonna help me undress or do I have to do everything myself?”

You got your answer when he planted his lips back on yours without another word, hardly giving you a second to breathe as he pushed his tongue past your lips. You instantly melted against him as your body flooded with heat once more, your hands fumbling to grasp onto his shirt in an attempt to ground yourself. 

Seokmin’s fingers made quick work of your bra, skillfully unclasping the constricting garment and throwing it carelessly in the grass. He took a moment to admire your newly exposed flesh, eyes darting from one nipple to the other before they drifted back down to the drenched panties hugging your cunt. 

He subconsciously licked his lips as he imagined his face buried between your legs, drowning himself in the taste of your sweet juices while you screamed out his name. 

“Stop staring like a creep and do something, please.” Your hand was back in his hair, fingers tightly gripping onto his locks as you pulled at his head, forcing him to rip his eyes away from your pussy and back up to your face. 

“You want me to do something?” An amused smile took over your boyfriend's features as he took in your desperate expression. 

“Yes!” you nearly cried, feeling seconds away completely losing your shit. “I swear to god, Seokmin. If your dick is not inside me within the next twenty seconds I’ll d— ah!”

You didn’t get to finish the rest of your sentence as you were cut off by your own shriek, eyes going wide with shock as you gaped at a smug-looking Seokmin. Just a second ago, you’d been sitting in his lap, but now you suddenly found yourself trapped beneath him, sprawled out on the metal workout bench and completely at his mercy.  

“You'll do what, baby?” Seokmin smirked triumphantly at your stunned face.

“Forget that,” you breathed, using the grip you had on his hair to pull him in for another kiss. “Fuck, that was hot. I want more where that came from.”

“Noted.” His eyes darkened as he pulled back slightly, and you released the grip you had on his head to allow him to lean back further. 

Your belly fluttered with anticipation when he moved the fabric of your dress aside to make contact with your bare skin. His hands teasingly began to trail down your sides, sending a series of tingles down your spine as you let your mind run wild with desire. 

A shaky breath left your mouth when your boyfriend hooked his fingers into your underwear, excitement filling your body instantly. You were already starting to lift your hips, eager to help him get rid of the one thing separating your cunt from his hungry gaze. 

What you didn’t expect was for him to pin you back down and tear your panties right off your body with a single move. You were left speechless once again, watching as your boyfriend proudly held up the torn lace before letting it fall to the ground. 

That was definitely going on your ‘Hottest Lee Seokmin Moments’ list.  

“You’re really trying to drive me insane over here,” you mumbled when you’d finally found your voice again. 

“You ask, I deliver.” Seokmin chuckled and continued to pull his shirt over his head in one smooth movement, revealing a set of mouthwatering glistening abs and a little dark happy trail that disappeared into his black shorts.

“Good.” Your eyes shifted back up to his with a new determination, your legs slightly opening to give him a nice view of your slick cunt. “Then I’m asking you to fuck me next.” 

With one hand, you reached for the waistband of his shorts, fully intent on tugging it down just enough so you could pull his dick out and guide it into your dripping hole. 

But Seokmin had other plans. 

“Now what?” you whined when his hands stopped you mid-move, wrapping themselves around your wrists just like he’d done before.

What would it take for a girl to get some dick from her boyfriend?

“Not so fast, baby. I'm gonna take care of you first.”

You shook your head in protest. “But I don’t want to wait any longer, Min. Please.”

“Do you want my dick or not, baby?” You’d never nodded faster. “Then be a good girl and spread those legs wider for me.”

That little command had you automatically spread your legs wider, a soft moan rolling off your lips as your walls clenched hard around nothing. Never in the time you’d been with Seokmin had he called you a good girl, but you found that you liked it… a lot. And you wouldn’t mind if he called you that more often from now on. 

“Oh? Does my baby like being called a good girl?” Seokmin smirked, his dark orbs burning into your own as he pushed your legs back as far as you could manage.

“Yes, fuck… so hot,” you whimpered, your legs twitching when you felt his hot breath ghost over your glossy cunt. 

“Keep being good and I’ll keep calling you that,” he murmured right before dipping his tongue between your slick folds.  

The debauched moan you released in response was enough to make Seokmin’s cock jerk uncontrollably inside his shorts. In return, he released a deep groan of appreciation, sending a wave of delicious vibrations to your core that automatically had you try to clamp your legs around your boyfriend's head. But Seokmin, who was way ahead of you, had such a tight hold on your thighs that it was nearly impossible to move. 

He used that grip to bury his entire face in your pussy, hardly giving himself room to breathe to completely drown himself in the taste of you, determined to get you to squirt your juices all over his face. 

With his skillful tongue alternating between flicking and sucking on your sensitive clit, applying just the right amount of pleasure in all the right spots to bring you to the edge, it took less than a minute before you were moaning his name like a mad woman.

Seokmin relished in the lewd sounds he pulled from you, and the way you desperately gripped at his hair to steady yourself as he devoured you, completely drunk on the taste of your pussy. His dick was painfully hard, straining against the inside of his shorts, practically begging him to relieve some of that agonizing tension. But in all honesty, chasing his own pleasure was the last thing on his mind right now. All that mattered was you, your climax, and nothing else.

It was even at the point that he'd momentarily forgotten you were doing all of this outside, in the garden, where any neighbor would be able to hear or see the obscene things he was doing to you. Not too long ago, Seokmin would have reeled at the thought of engaging in risky public sex, but now, here he was, eating you out in the garden and enjoying every bit of it, not a single fuck given. 

You found yourself in a similar position, eyes rolled to the back of your head and your body twitching and shuddering from the overwhelming sensations coursing through your nerves. It wasn’t exactly how you’d planned things to go — still no dick — but it certainly helped quench the worst of your sexual cravings. The way the coil in your stomach got tighter and tighter with every swipe of his tongue said enough. 

“F-fuck that’s gonna make me cum so fast, holy shit!” you whimpered when your boyfriend suddenly slid two of his long fingers inside you, immediately curling them up to press against that sensitive spot he knew would make you lose your mind. 

Seokmin only hummed against your pussy, his eyes catching yours as the corners of his mouth tugged up into a devilish smirk. Then, his hand was speeding up, fingers mercilessly batting against your sweet spot while his tongue lapped at your swollen clit. He watched you succumb to the pleasure with hungry eyes, your face contorted in pure ecstasy as your moans got louder and louder the closer you got. 

“You like that, baby?” your boyfriend rasped, his mouth briefly detaching from your clit. 

Your cunt clenched around his fingers in response, the only sound coming out of your mouth being a needy whine since you couldn’t find it in yourself to come up with a sane response with how scrambled your mind was.

That was met with a sharp nip at your swollen nub.

“Answer me,” Seokmin growled, apparently not satisfied with your lack of words.

You yelped loudly at the unexpected but very welcoming stinging sensation that had your nerves singing with pleasure. “Shit— yes! I fucking do!”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised with a harsh slap to your inner thigh before taking your clit back between his wet lips.

The sound of the pet name unraveled something inside you, drawing every muscle in your body taut as you were abruptly thrown over the edge. The full force of your toe-curling orgasm caused you to cry out your boyfriend’s name, your legs trapping his head between your thighs while drenching his pretty face with your arousal. 

Seokmin was perfectly content like that, groaning into your cunt like a starved man as he tried to catch every last drop of your slick with his mouth. Even when you began pushing at his head to get him away from your overstimulated pussy, it took him another twenty seconds before he finally detached himself, looking up at you with a dopey, satisfied grin and his chin dripping with your arousal. 

“You’re insatiable, Lee Seokmin,” you rasped, chest heaving as you tried to recover from the intense high you’d just experienced. 

Said man leaned forward, placing a gentle kiss right below your belly button.

“Yes,” He moved up slightly, this time placing a kiss right above it, “I am.” His lips trailed over your breast, goosebumps forming along the way, “But…” He nipped at your neck, “you…” he whispered, his lips hovering right above yours, “were so good for me,” he finished, capturing your lips into another heated kiss.

The taste of yourself on your boyfriend’s lips lit a new fire inside your belly, your skin flushing hot with a new surge of desire. It also didn’t help that his hands were back on your thighs, kneading and rubbing at them, making every one of your nerve endings come back to life under his scorching touch. 

“Min, get your dick out and fuck me,” you mumbled against his lips, determined to not take no for an answer this time. 

Seokmin was fully prepared to give into your demands this time, no longer wanting to tease you because he was feeling just as desperate and eager to be inside you. There was, however,  just one little thing he hadn’t thought of before. But now with you sprawled out before him in all your naked glory, begging for his cock, the little voice in the back of his mind decided to make an appearance. 

“Fuck.” He grimaced. “Just hold on, okay? I’ll be right back,” he said, leaning forward to kiss you softly before making a move to get up. 

You quickly grabbed onto his arm to stop him, confusion taking over your features at the sudden switch in mood.  

“Wait! Where are you going?”

“Condoms… don’t have any on me. I’ll quickly grab one from inside.”

“We don’t need them,” you blurted out, immediately biting your bottom lip when you realized what you'd said.

Seokmin’s eyes visibly widened at your bold suggestion. “But you're not on any birth control. I could actually get you pregnant.”

“Would it really be that bad?” At that, the man’s eyes nearly bulged out of his head. 

The topic of kids was nothing new between the two of you. It had come up on multiple occasions during the span of your relationship, and it was pretty clear that both you and Seokmin loved kids. The both of you always jumped at the chance of babysitting his two year-old nephew whenever Seokmin’s sister and her husband needed someone to watch him, happy to spoil him and play with him as if he was your own. 

It was no secret that you wanted a big family, and so did Seokmin, so that wasn’t the reason he was a little hesitant to fuck you without protection. He just really didn’t want you to regret anything if you did end up pregnant by the end of it, because a child was a big responsibility after all. 

But he also couldn’t deny that he wasn’t tempted by the idea of your warm walls hugging his dick without anything in the way, and being able to empty his load inside your greedy, slick-covered hole like he’d always wanted to do. 

It was hard not to give in to that, especially when you were looking at him with those big, seductive eyes of yours.

“Baby, I’m serious.”

“So am I,” you shot back, a mix of determination and lust adorning your face as you challenged your boyfriend. 

Seokmin frowned, running a hand through his damp hair. “We should think about this…”

“I already did, and I want this. I wanna feel you… all of you… inside me.” You looked up at him with the biggest puppy eyes you could muster. 

“Fuck, you’re not making it easy for me,” your boyfriend sighed, feeling completely torn between doing the responsible thing and giving in to his carnal desires. 

“Then stop thinking and just fill me with cum.”

Seokmin gulped, letting out a shaky breath as he felt himself slowly start to lose the battle.

“Shit. Are you absolutely sure about this? Is this really what you want, baby?” he asked, placing his hands on either side of the bench to cage you in.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning up to touch your nose to his. “If you're asking me if I want you to fuck a baby in me then yes, I totally want that,” you breathed, a small smile gracing your face.

Seokmin’s dick twitched in his shorts at your declaration, unlocking a new level of desire that he didn’t know existed. His body was full-on buzzing, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he felt the gears in his mind switch to a whole different setting. 

You noticed the change in your boyfriend the moment the words had left your lips, the uncertain expression that had been on his face just now making way for a much more ominous expression, one you didn’t quite recognize. 

“Min?” 

“Bend over.” 

“O-okay.” The slight edge to his tone had you scrambling to turn around for him, nearly causing you to fall off the bench in the process as your legs got tangled up in your dress. You planned to rip the clothing piece off your body to make your life easier, but the sudden hand pinning your wrist to your back made that impossible.

“Dress stays on,” your boyfriend’s low voice sounded from behind you as you felt him flip up the material to reveal the supple skin of your ass.

You were about to protest, but the harsh slap to your behind that followed made you think twice about opening your mouth. The impact of his hand connecting with your tender skin pulled a soft whine from you, leaving you with a pleasant stinging sensation that sent a hot streak of arousal right down to your pussy. 

There was barely any time to recover from the first slap before he delivered a second one, this one even more intense and brutal than the last one, forcing you to fight down a scream as you jolted forward, barely able to keep your balance since you only had one hand available to steady yourself. 

Your boyfriend was no stranger to delivering the occasional slap to your ass, but it had always been in a loving kind of way and never like this… so rough and thrilling. So if this kind of spanking was your boyfriend’s reaction to seeing you bent over in your half-discarded dress, then you had no problem keeping it on.

“Such a good girl for me,” Seokmin groaned, his cock twitching once again as he watched your ass jiggle for a third time when his hand reconnected with your delicate flesh. You could only moan in response as you felt yourself get wetter with every slap, hand gripping onto the bench for dear life while you let your boyfriend have his way with you. 

Only after the tenth slap or so, when Seokmin noticed your legs were close to giving out on you, he released the wrist he was holding and allowed you to take a breather while he rushed to shove his shorts and underwear down his legs, finally freeing the raging boner he’d been neglecting for the past twenty minutes.

The man didn’t waste any time as he grabbed onto your waist with one hand, lining up his engorged tip with your dripping cunt with the other. 

A shudder ripped through him when he pushed forward, greedy eyes fixed on his cock disappearing between your ass cheeks, slowly getting enveloped by your tight walls as they made room for him. 

It was unlike any feeling Seokmin had ever experienced. Although he was barely halfway inside, he was sure he wasn’t going to last as long as he usually would have. Without the usual barrier in the way, he was able to feel it all, every little sensation — the warmth radiating off your walls as he slid in further, your creamy slick drenching his cock from head to base — it took everything in him to stop himself from bursting as he imagined how good you’d look with your ripe cunt stuffed full of his seed. 

Seokmin’s pupils were fully blown by the time your ass connected with his pelvis, his jaw clenched and the grip on your waist bordering on bruising as he momentarily stilled to let you both get used to the new feeling. 

You weren’t doing much better, trying to deal with the blissful ache whirling in your stomach as you tried to accommodate the familiar stretch. Only this time, you were able to actually feel the bulging veins forking along his length as they throbbed against your inner walls in the most intoxicating way. 

“Shit, Min,” you moaned, tightening your grip on the bench, “Just fuck me already. Feels so damn good like this.”

At your plea, Seokmin pulled his hips back slightly, slowly dragging his throbbing tip along your sensitive walls before abruptly burying his entire girth back inside your warm cunt with a loud groan.

“Yeah? Like that?”

“Yes… harder,” you whined, impatiently wiggling your ass in search of more of that delicious friction. 

“Fucking gladly,” he muttered, moving one of his hands to your shoulder before repeating the motion again, only this time with a lot more force and speed, which earned him a series of salacious moans that went straight down to his pulsing cock.  

It didn't take long for Seokmin to completely lose every bit of sanity he possessed as he vigorously drove his hips into your ass, your pussy squelching loudly every time his cock slammed back inside your slippery hole. 

He’d never felt like this before… fully overtaken by this primal need to breed you like the good girl you were, completely set on ruining you with his cock and stuffing load after load of cum inside your hot cunt until you couldn’t fit anymore. 

The regular Seokmin, aka the sweet man who made you breakfast every day and made sure you had absolutely everything you could wish for, would have been a messy blushing puddle with all these nasty thoughts running through his mind. But this Seokmin, the pussy drunk, sex-crazed man who was fucking you as if his life depended on it, only felt himself get more riled up with every new lewd thought that entered his mind, not feeling bashful in the slightest. 

You honestly didn’t know where the hell this Seokmin had come from, but you hoped that this wouldn’t be the last of him. His rough thrusts had you feeling like a complete wreck in the best sense of the word, causing you to release an obscene number of sounds you didn’t even know you could make. It was no doubt the best dicking your boyfriend had ever given you, but too much for your body to keep up — you discovered that when your legs suddenly decided to give out on you mid-thrust. 

Fortunately, your boyfriend was prepared and caught you just in time, firmly wrapping one of his beefy arms around your tits to press you against his bare chest, while his free hand clamped around your neck, forcing you to tilt your head up to the clear blue sky as he continued to pound into your sopping cunt. 

“Fuck, gonna fill this pussy,” Seokmin growled into your ear, his breath hot against the side of your face. “Gonna fill it with my cum, fucking show the world you’re mine… get your pretty belly round with my baby,” he continued, never slowing down his unrelenting pace.

“God, yes!” you moaned, eyes once again rolling to the back of your head as your walls fluttered in response to the filth rolling off your boyfriend’s tongue. 

“Dirty girl. You like the thought of me fucking a baby into you?”

”Y-yes, fuck… want it, want your baby!” 

You didn’t think it was possible but Seokmin’s hips sped up even more after you’d said that, making you cry out loud as you clung onto his forearm to center yourself.

“Gonna fill you up like you deserve, stuff you full till you can’t walk. This pussy is fucking mine… mine to claim.” Seokmin had fully lost himself at this point, spewing all the filth he could think of, completely and utterly enthralled by your sweet raw cunt sucking him in so deliciously.

“Oh god, Min, need you to cum in me,” you rasped, feeling the coil in your stomach start to wind and tighten as your boyfriend continuously battered against your sweet spot. 

“So fucking desperate. Such a good girl.” That was the moment Seokmin released your throat and lowered his hand to attach his fingers to your clit, rubbing sloppy figure eights into it while his dick continued to stretch you out.

“Faster… faster,” you urged, feeling your body tense at the sudden surge of pleasure shooting through you. 

Seokmin listened to your pleas and sped up his fingers.

“Oh, fuck, right there,” you whined, feeling like you couldn’t hold it anymore. “Gonna cum… gonna cum!”

White briefly flashed before your eyes as you came with a choked gargle of your boyfriend’s name, your cunt clenching around his cock as your body shook violently from the overwhelming sensations. 

Seokmin didn’t stop at that, feeling like he was seconds away from reaching his own high. With your fluttering cunt continuing to hold his dick in a chokehold, and you begging for his cum in his ear, it didn’t take him long to get there. 

With one last well-timed thrust, Seokmin buried himself all the way inside you, letting his own orgasm wash over him as he felt the first spurts of cum coat your inner walls. Both of you groaned in delight at the unfamiliar but arousing feeling of Seokmin’s cum filling you up for the first time. 

Heat bloomed inside you as your boyfriend continued to spill inside you, holding tightly onto you as he rode out the remainder of his climax. 

“Fuck, Min, so much cum,” you whimpered when you felt his seed begin to drip out of your swollen cunt and down your thighs. That’s how much there was. It felt like there was no end to it. 

“Pussy feels so fucking good, can’t stop cumming,” he panted against your neck, moving his hands to rest on the smooth skin of your stomach.

You smirked, tightening your walls momentarily to pull a little whine from your boyfriend.

“Well, let’s say that I’m not complaining.”

Only when Seokmin’s cock had fully softened and there really was no more cum to give, he reluctantly pulled out of you, not being able to stop himself from gawking at the big globs of cum dripping out of your pussy with his cock no longer holding it in. 

“Min?”

”Huh?” 

Despite your extremely wobbly legs, you managed to turn around and threw yourself at the man in front of you, wrapping your arms around his neck as you stared into his eyes with a cheeky smile on your face. 

“I love you, you know that? You’re a fucking freak!” 

Seokmin’s cheeks began to flush at your exclamation, his eyes quickly averting yours in an attempt to escape your intense gaze. 

“Oh…. uh, that? Well…” he stammered, one of hands coming up to rub at his neck.

“Are you seriously acting all shy on me now when you just fucked my brains out?” You giggled, shaking your head in disbelief. 

“Well, when you put it like that…” He chuckled, a dopey grin on his face.

“Promise me you’re gonna show this side of you more often.”

Seokmin raised his brows in surprise. “You sure? It wasn’t too much?”

“Fuck no.” You shook your head. “It was definitely some of the best dick you’ve given me.”

“I guess I have no choice then, do I?” He smiled widely.

“Nope. Besides,” You leaned in to kiss him softly before whispering seductively, “if you wanna give me a baby, we better do that many more times, just to be sure.”

“You’re absolutely right.” Then your boyfriend scooped you up without another word, your surprised shriek echoing through the garden as he hurried to rush you inside the house, eager to do it all over again.

© All rights reserved — ourdawnishotterthanourday // Please do not repost or edit any of my works without my permission!! If you see any of my works outside of this Tumblr, pls report it to me asap. Thank you in advance!

HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED THIS LITTLE SEOK SMUT HEHE! Would be amazing to hear your thoughts on this one 😋 and PLEASE look forward to the next one 👀 I got some good ideas planned for y'all!

☀ if you want to be added to my PERMANENT tag list for upcoming works (MAINLY NSFW, SO 18+), leave a comment below or send me an ask, but be sure to mention PERMANENT TAG LIST if you choose to send an ask! If you wish to be removed, also send me an ask!

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[harmoonix]

HYPNOSIS

Astrology Observations

I'll be seaside

Sitting on the sand drinking a mai tai

Waking up and soaking up the sunlight

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💙 - Neptune in the 1H/9H/12H native is like the Universe's kid, very spiritual, very empathic, very emotional, understanding the space and the outer space nature

💙 - Sun in the 8th/9th/12th house natives literally are a balance between spirituality and empathy, you have to be there at the right moment to feel it

💙 - Libra in your big 3 (Sun, Rising, Moon) can make others charmed by you, also you give a big impression to people when they first meet you

💙 - Scorpio in your big 3 (Sun, Rising, Moon) are intense placements, they love playing with the fire and fire loves "playing" with them

💙 - Venus conjunct/sextile/trine Moon will make you so peaceful/calm. People around you love this energy and you give harmonious vibes

💙 - Ascendant aspecting Uranus (all aspects) are very aware of the things happening around them. Is like they always have the 3rd eye open

💙 - Neptune aspecting your Sun will make you shine so bright that you can get hate for being in this "light", you stand out, but haters gonna hate

💙 - Aries & Capricorn Moons are both so defensive of their loved ones and i admire that so much about them they wanna this energy of "Don't mess with me"

💙 - Neptune aspecting the ascendant has beautiful eyes, there is a saying like "The eyes are the mirror of the soul". people fall in love with your eyes before anything

──────────────────────────────

I'll be seaside

Watching all the seagulls flying so high

Looking at our future looking so bright, so bright

──────────────────────────────

💙 - Pluto aspecting Midheaven have so much power in their lives that other people have the feeling to control them for that. Take care of yourself and your energy

💙 - Uranus in your 3rd house will make your voice to stand out, your voice is very powerful in this placement and I also mean the way you communicate and tell words

💙 - Jupiter in your 6H/10H. Jupiter is blessing the native with a good personalty and good job/also a lot of influence and devotion to the world

💙 - Having a Water Moon is the 1# biggest sign that you should be a spiritual person, because Water Moons are psychic

💙 - Mars in Sagittarius/9H can be very revengeful, you did something bad to them, they'll return the same thing to you

💙 - Mars in Cancer/4H can act the same, but the thing with them is that, they will know your weakness/sensible point

💙 - Capricorn & Libra combo placements in a chart indicate a lot of diplomacy/politeness, very elegant and charismatic too

💙 - Jupiter in your 5H/11H can fullfil your desires on a long term, if you truly want or wish something (good) to happen, try to manifest it

💙 - Lilith in your 6H/8H/10H/12H can act mischievous, you never know what they'll be thinking about or their plans

💙 - Mars square/conjunct/opposite Uranus will act messy when they're annoyed, Mars here is uncontrollable or just wild free

💙 - Scorpio Venus/Mars can meet potential "partners" who can take advantage of them which is not totally okay, make sure people appreciate for everything you have to offer

──────────────────────────────

I be busy, busy, nah

Busy doing nothing all day

Y bailando con toda mi gente, y

Veo que no me dejas de ver

──────────────────────────────

💙 - Saturn/Lilith or Pluto in the 11H can indicate lots of betrayals, can be romantically or friendly or even from family members

💙 - Earth Moons/Earth Sun gives "old soul" and what I mean with that is, they're experienced in life and they seem like they went through a lot

💙 - Mercury aspecting Pluto or Neptune can have people hiding things from them, secrets, dark "plans" and others, even gossip

💙 - Can someone tell me why a fire Venus will always make me think of a hot song you hear during summer that you cannot forget?? Adore them.

💙 - A Chart with fire as predominantly element will act too impulsively/stubborn sometimes even too "wild" at times

💙 - Lilith in Aries/Cancer/Sagittarius/Aquarius wants to break the norms and the things that are always seen as "toxic", they want to break free from everything that pains them

💙 - Lilith (h58) is the most dangerous Lilith in a chart so here are some observations about it

Lilith h58 aspecting Chiron can indicate unsealed traumas/bad experienced from your life

Lilith h58 aspecting Midheaven gives no fuck about nobody, they don't care what the world thinks about them "You have just one life, live it how you want"

Lilith h58 aspecting Venus will act toxic in love if they feel threatened by their partners energy

Lilith h58 aspecting the ascendant is very rebellious, very rude or mean at times, few know this "rude" energy can be just for protecting themselves

Lilith h58 aspecting Mercury will not be afraid to call people out when is needed, they may use a very dirty way of talking

Lilith h58 sitting empty in a chart like a black whole, absorbing energy of all forms,

💙 - Mars in the 7th house/Mars in Libra despite the drama about how Mars is chaotic in Libra, they tend to have romantic relationship and energetic spouses, + they're being so assertive in their relationships

💙 - Neptune/Pluto or Saturn in your 6th house can drain your energy fast, that's why is good to take a break after you did some work so you don't end up exhausted

─────────────────────────────

Mientras la música suene

Aquí pegaditos al mar

No me pienso mover a otro lugar

──────────────────────────────

💙 - Venus aspecting Mars has a bold energy. What's attractive about them is that they can attract all types of people with this energy (from jealous people to really indifferent ones)

💙 - Mars aspecting Moon (in harsh aspects) get angry or frustrated fast, is not like they're about to explode instead they just feel like screaming out in a pillow

💙 - Midheaven aspecting Neptune or Jupiter can work in environments where spirituality can be used a lot, like a spiritual guide

💙 - Having Moon in your 9th house, beside having a good love life, this aspect can indicate a lot of creativity and knowledge. Also a love for exploring the *unknown*

💙 - Jupiter aspecting Lilith h12 (harsh aspects) since Jupiter will expand even in harsh aspects, their sexual energy can just grow and grow until it hits some the point of hypersexuality

💙 - Saturn in the 1st house natives have the chance to reflect on themselves after every fail, always overcome your fears and mistakes

💙 - Lilith in Capricorn/10th house is the native who seeks for recognition and success, these placements also indicate a stubborn person with a traditional ethic

💙 - Mars in Taurus/Mars in the 2nd house has an intense determinations to achieve anything they desire, this placement also indicates staying good with money or financially

💙 - Lilith in Leo/5TH or in Leo Degrees 5°, 17°, 29° have a big pride, this placement can also he know for their perseverance and sharp mind

💙 - Moon/Venus/Rising/Juno in Sagittarius gives "you're always be my ritual" thanks to Sagittarius's ties with the 9th house who can indicate rituals

💙 - Sun in the 7th/Leo in the 7th house/Sun at 5°, 17°, 29° degrees can put their partners on the 1st place in a relationship, but also your partner mirrors you with a strong vitality

💙 - Neptune in the 4H is actually a dark placement if we go in the depth of themes of Neptune because after all, Neptune represents addiction, natives with Neptune in the 4H can go into addictions from a young age or from childhood for example like smoking, alcohol, bad influences

💙 - Neptune aspecting Venus/Neptune in the 7H always day dream about their partners or future partners. Even crushes.

💙 - Sun in the 9th/Jupiter in the 1H natives are very spiritual/religious deep down in their hearts, it can be a very dear topic for them

💙 - Virgo in your big 3 (Sun, Moon or Rising) will make you to be devoted no matter what, your humanitarian nature makes you such a kind person!

💙 - Cancer/Pisces and Leo Mars can skip arguments, they don't like it and don't wanna fight, so most times they choose to just walk away

💙 - Mercury in the 1st/5th/11th houses will gift a person with good humour, if Mercury is in the 8H they can have a dark type of humour, dark jokes too

💙 - Neptune or Pisces rulling your 2H or 3H can give you a very addictive voice, Mercury - Neptune aspects too

💙 - When you have your Saturn Retrograde it feels like having a second parent/father. Like Saturn is tutoring you on your life path

──────────────────────────────

If you're looking for me

I'll be seaside

──────────────────────────────

💙 - Sun or Rising in Taurus Degrees 2°, 14°, 26° can make the native to be more "earthed" more down to earth, more calm

💙 - Lilith h12 in Pisces or in the 12th house can indicate ancestral wounds, which is a highly deep wound related to your ancestors idk why this placement reminds me about Mulan's ancestors fighting in the temple in the animated movie

💙 - Since no one mentions this, having your Jupiter in the 9H or in Sagittarius doesn't always mean you gonna meet your spouse in foreign lands but also in highschool or university, you can be highschool lovers for example or even highschool lovers in foreign lands as a combo of both, also either you or your partner will have a different ethnicity!! Jupiter at 9°. 21° degrees too

──────────────────────────────

I always give my 10/10 everytime there is an avatar thematic 💅🏼💅🏼💅🏼💅🏼, is the highest grossing movie for a reason after all 💅🏼

Hope you all have a good day for those to read my posts 🥰🥰

H a r m o o n i x

[obihoebikenobi]

As a married person, I can confirm Wade and Logan are married.

Wade calls Logan on the way home from a job, talks his ear off about all the bullshit that happened (that Wade absolutely was the catalyst for) during the day, and Logan listens patiently, already pulling out ingredients for dinner, shaking his head.

When Wade gets home they cook together to the tune of Wade's shitty playlist that keeps getting paused for ads since Wade refuses to pay for the monthly subscription. Logan swears for the hundredth time that he's gonna buy a fucking CD player just so he can have some damn peace.

They sit on the couch every night when they eat and debate the future of Star Wars. Logan complains about Interstellar making no damn sense. Wade bitches about Logan reading the newspaper he specifically brought home for him.

Wade whines about putting the dishes away and Logan complains about the sheer volume of cups Wade uses throughout the day. Can't you just rinse it out and and use it again? You have a perfectly good cup of water on the damn coffee table.

Wade refolds all of Logan's laundry because no, towels don't get folded like that. And why they fuck is he folding his damn boxers? Just shove that shit in the drawer.

They squeeze into the shower together most mornings, though the water pressure isn't any good, so one of them always ends up freezing and hogging all the water. Wade complains that Logan takes too much damn time washing his hair, so Logan threatens to shave it off.

Yet, they love the fuck out of each other. And it fucking shows.

Wade buys Logan's favorite take-out every Friday, even orders it for delivery if he's out on a job and isn't home.

Logan buys Wade moisturizer and takes care of his dry skin every night before bed, even throws in a ten-minute backscratch because he knows Wade loves that.

Wade holds Logan on the couch while they watch TV, nuzzles his way into Logan's neck, forces compliments into his ear while he dozes because fuck you he's gonna use his newfound knowledge of subliminal messaging to his advantage.

They share a smoke on the fire escape and Logan talks about Laura and how proud he is of her. Wade talks about how excited he is for Vanessa's wedding next year. They cry sometimes too, hold each other's shaking frames as the sunlight fades from the sky.

It's all balance, give and take, with many good days, and some not as good.

They're broken people held together with super glue and a prayer, but they love like they fucking mean it.

[rafesplaymate]

I am begging for somnophilia with rafe and best friend of sarah y/n

Y/n coming over for a sleepover

Rafe Cameron x Sarah’s BestFriend!Reader

ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི. ݁₊⊹ navigation. ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི. ݁₊⊹ masterlist.

warnings: smut. oral (f receiving). power dynamics. somnophillia. noncon / dubcon. adult themes / dark content.

a/n: not entirely proofread!

ᡣ𐭩. ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

Rafe can’t believe his luck, thanking whatever high power listened to his prayers and granted them. He’s taking full advantage of the time he’s been gifted and using it to his heart’s delight. Sarah and y/n had been having a sleep over at Tannyhill. The two girls attached by their hips, often alternating between houses and having sleep overs every chance they get. Which is quite often. When you live in luxury like they do and have the means to host it becomes quite a ritual.

A ritual that Rafe loves but is driving him insane all the same. Y/n is everything he’s ever dreamed of, he remembers when she first moved in down the street. He’d been driving by in his truck and saw her bent over looking through a cardboard box; daisy dukes high on her stunning legs and the bent position spreading her out perfectly in his line of sight. He remembers almost crashing his truck from how distracted he was. Driving away to the country club and thinking about the sweet piece of ass he saw on his way there; and he completely remembers when Sarah brought her over for the first time. He was in heaven and an angel fell right in front of him. Dressed in a tight little sundress that was see through in the sunlight, nipples poking through and plump tits sitting pretty making his mouth water. Her pretty face with dewey makeup and glossed lips, wispy lashes batting at him as she looked every bit like the goddess he wants to worship. He can still remember the way he fumbled over introducing himself to her, Sarah giving him a mocking smirk as he sneered at her after when y/n turned to greet Rose and Ward.

Since then she’s been traipsing and fluttering around his home any chance she get. Y/n loves Tannyhill! It’s so light and big! She knows she has a house just as grand but something about this one calls out to her more. Rafe’s resolve has been breaking day by day seeing her waltz around his house in skimpy outfits and little thongs with no fucking bra. He’s going insane, he needs to feel her smooth skin on his fingertips and pressed to him bare. He wants to lick every inch of her and mark ever bit of flawless skin with his ownership. He wants her so bad and tonight he’s fucking taking it.

Sarah had snuck out to see Topper he presumes, he doesn’t know what sucker she has under her thumb this month and he really doesn’t give a fuck. Rafe saw her running down the driveway to god knows where. Smirking to himself as he slipped down the hall to her bedroom, slowly opening the door and seeing the very figure that has been invading his mind since the moment he met her months ago. Lying in Sarah’s messed up sheets with her legs sticking out, presumably due to the heat. The sight of her skin glowing with whatever lotion she’s slathered herself in under the moonlight is what pushes him to step forward quietly. Shutting the door behind him and securing the lock.

Rafe gently walks to the edge of the bed near, groaning to himself quietly under his breath as he takes in the sight of her laying there so beautifully. She’s on her stomach with one leg bent forward; the other laying straight out as she hugs the pillow to her. Her satin slip ridden up and fuck -she’s not wearing any underwear. Rafe’s eyes widen when he sees her cute pussy in his sight and her plump butt looking so enticing. She’s wet, a small drip of clear arousal dripping from her hole down her cute clit and it nails the coffin shut in what Rafe plans on doing tonight. He would be stupid to waste an opportunity like this. It’s almost perfect, Sarah gone and his prize laying there with her cute pussy out in the prettiest little slip he wants to rip off her.

Rafe’s been just watching over her, like the perv he is. His eyes glued to her soaked pussy as he reaches his hand to grip his rock-solid cock over his grey sweats; groaning under his breath when he does. Rafe circles the bed and walks down the side she’s closest too. His hand reaching out, middle finger lightly grazing her smooth leg as he ends up standing next to her sleeping face. Bulge right in front of her as his shadow blocks the moonlight that was shining on her. He coos softly to himself when he sees her pretty wispy lashes laying long over her smooth cheeks. Lips pouted from her cheek being squished into the pillow as she breathes in slowly. He reaches out and runs the tip of his index finger against her beautiful pout. Leaning down and slightly cupping her cheek as he presses soft, feathery light kisses to her forehead. He continues down her nose to her lips, brushing his against hers when he reaches them. He presses a long kiss to her pout as he lightly rubs a thumb over her cheek.

When Rafe pulls back, she subconsciously seeks him out; a low whine leaving her when his caresses stop. It fills Rafe’s chest with pride and pushes him to be bolder. Growing his already over inflated confidence and pushing him to to lightly began moving her body to lay on her back. He slowly rolled her, no complaints coming from her and still sleeping deeply. When he gets her onto her back he’s ready to devour her whole. Her slip lifted up and her bare cunt now on display for him fully, legs spread apart and straight on the bed. Arms falling to the sides of her head and head tilting to the side as she snores softly. Her plump tits almost slipping out of the deep V of her slip; Rafe reached out to graze his fingertips over her protruding nipples. He’s imagined this so many times and he wishes he could give her a full grope. But he’ll settle for light touches, for now.

Rafe gently and carefully moves his body onto the bed; using his knees to stabilize himself as he straddles her body. He’s mindful of not sitting on her legs and just stands over her, knees on both sides of her as he stares down at her beautiful sleeping figure. Sarah mentioned she was a deep sleeper but he didn’t think he’d even get this far without waking her up. He leans down, one hand over her head and the other next to her head as he holds himself up. He nuzzles her nose with his, sighing softly as he runs the tip of his nose over her cheek. He drags it all the way down to her neck that is exposed to him from the tilt she has on her head. Rafe begins pressing feathery light kisses against her pretty skin, taking in her vanilla perfume as he moves to her chin then her lips again. He loves the way she responds to him in her sleep. Seeking him out every-time he moves away or stops with soft little whines.

He decides he’ll save putting his cock in her another time, right now he wants to feel her body all over his mouth. He pushes himself up gently then using a hand to push the strap of her slip to the side; pushing it down her arm till her pretty tit pops out. His mouth immediately waters at the sight, hastily doing the same to the other side with precaution. The upper half of her cute pajamas that she should only be wearing in his bed, now off her chest. She’s practically naked, wet pussy out from the skirt lifted up. She’s all his for the taking and he’s gonna enjoy his meal.

He leans down again, pressing soft kisses against her beautiful tits. He’s careful not to lean his weight onto her, he doesn’t want her to wake up just yet. He moved his kisses down her body, a light moan slipping from her that makes him stare at her face to secure that she’s not awake. When he realizes she’s still fast asleep he moves himself down the bed, face to face with something he’s been longing to get a taste of for months.

Rafe doesn’t waste any time as he lightly lays on his stomach; moving her legs over his arms gently and hooking them so his hands are resting lightly on her stomach. He pushed the skirt of her slip up so that it’s only wrapped around her waist; her pussy in front of his face as he groans to himself softly. Lightly groping her cute tummy in his hands as he leans in and grazes the tip of his nose against her wet folds. Her scent is driving him insane and he can’t help but bring out his tongue to kitten lick the arousal that drips out of her cute hole; moaning to himself to the taste of how sweet she was. He’s ravenous, immediately burying his face into her folds as he eats a meal he’s been dying to have for so long.

Rafe eats her out like no other, his mouth on her now swollen clit as he gives it firms sucks. Moans start dripping from her lips and her legs start shaking in her sleep. He doesn’t care if she wakes up, he wants her too. Wants her too look down at him and cum around his tongue. He needs to see her pretty eyes glazed over as she cums in his mouth. Rafe is bold, bringing both hands that were on her tummy to grope her pretty tits. Tweaking her nipples between his fingers as he continues burying his tongue in her hole; moaning again when her arousal starts leaking out of her like a faucet. It’s when he goes back up to suck on her clit again, giving it a soft bite and her nipples a harsh pinch that rises her from her deep sleep, “Sa-sarah?” she gasp out. Her hands immediately reaching down into the hair inbetween her legs, feeling the short stringy strands that she knows exactly who they belong to. The sleep from her body slowly leaving as she looks down to the source of all her pleasure. “Raaaafffeee,” she moans in a long, airy gasp as she grips him harsher and brings him closer; not caring about anything except cumming.

Rafe sucks on her clit, pulling back slightly until he lets it go with a pop; her arousal soaking his face and dripping down is chin as he lifts his head to smirk at her. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” he mocks her, listening to her whine as she her hips start bucking up but her mouth begins questioning, “wha-what are you doing?” She cries out, one hand reaching behind her to grip the pillow and the other caressing the strands of his head as she comes to terms that this is really happening. She’s not dreaming, but she doesn’t know if the haziness in her head is from sleep or being on the brink of an orgasm.

He unwraps his left arm as his other hand moves down to press on her stomach to hold her down. He brings his hand down to her drippy hole, swiping his fingers through her arousal before he reaches up again. Rafe shoves his wet fingers into her mouth that’s ready to question him again; feeling her gasp with a gag as he harshly shuts her up. “M’taking what I want, and you’re not gonna do a damn thing except lay there and let me eat. Alright?” He says gruffly, pushing his fingers in and out of her mouth as she wraps her lips around them and begins sucking. She’s too tired to fight, too lost to completely understand what’s happening and most importantly way too turned on to reject an orgasm from the prettiest boy she knows.

Y/n relaxes back into the bed, her hands both reaching back into his hair to push his head down where she needs him the most. Nodding her head quickly as she submits to him and continues giving his fingers soft suckles, whining when they leave her mouth to which Rafe gives a quick shush. He brings his wet fingers back down, spitting onto her pussy to add to the wetness already pooling on Sarah’s sheets. Her then circle his middle and ringer finger around her tight hole; working them in softly and immediately curling as he reattaches his lips to her pulsing clit that’s begging for his affection. “Sweet fucking pussy,” he moans against her, his eyes shutting tightly as he sucks on her and rams his fingers against her harder.

“Raffeeeyyyy,” she moans light, airy with soft squeaks and whines falling from those lips he can’t wait to kiss again. “Feels s’good,” she slurs out, the hand gripping the pillow next to her head now reaching down to tangle in his hair next to the other one. Using it as leverage to buck her hips against his mouth while Rafe bullies her hole with his fingers. His hand other hand pressing harder on her stomach as he feels it contracting. “Such a fucking slut, didn’t even need permission,” he mocks her willingness to letting him take what he wants without even asking her when he pulls back. He pounds his fingers harder as her arousal drips down his hand to his wrist and moves the hand on her stomach to lay over her mound as his thumb begins rubbing circles over her clit.

“When m’done eating this little pussy, you’re coming to my room and letting me take whatever else I want. Got it?” He says gruffly; not willing to leave her here when she belongs in his sheets right next to him. He’s not letting her go after this, she’ll just have to accept she’s his now even if she hasn’t already. His face hardens when she doesn’t answer him; pulling his fingers out and giving her puffy pussy a harsh smack as she cries out at the feeling. “I said, got it?” He bites, smacking her folds again when she takes a beat too long ready to give her another one as she cries out a, “yes! Whatever you want!” He’s almost worried Ward and Rose or Wheezie can hear down the hall. He wouldn’t care though, he needs everyone to know she’s his for life. “That’s what I thought,” he says with deep satisfaction settling in his chest. Taking his arousal covered hand as he shoves his wet fingers back in her mouth.

“You and me are gonna have so much fun.”

ᡣ𐭩. ݁˖ . ݁༉‧₊˚.ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི

a/n: the only way i’d like to be woken up tbh! pls let me know your thoughts! much love!

[stevesgother]

Let's Hear It For The Boy!

Pairing - Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

WC: 2.4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, smut, cursing, oral (f receiving), emotional sex, aftercare, tooth rotting fluff bc i love them, latter half as usual is not proofread bc i can't bring myself to read my own smut. maybe someday!

AN: here’s a little Dress bonus chapter bc so many people loved that series! I know i didn’t let them bang in the final part, so here ya go. I hope it scratches the itch :)

The sounds of a specially curated mixtape drift and settle over the room. Steve has you underneath him, his entire weight crushing you like your own personal safety blanket. He peppers kisses over every inch of exposed skin and then some, giving you a brief reprieve from the steamy makeout session you were previously engaged in.

It had been 3 weeks since New Year's Eve. In that time, Steve has managed to spend every waking second with you that he could. He’d taken you on lavish dates to the only fancy restaurant in this dying town– Enzo’s, and you’ve spent countless days snowed in, watching “borrowed” tapes from Family Video. He takes you grocery shopping and puts your favorite cereal in the cart before you get the chance to grab it yourself. To be loved by Steve, is to be seen. You think he knows you better than you know yourself, in every way except for one.

You had decided to take things slow, for the fear of risking everything the two of you had worked so hard to build over the length of your entire friendship thus far. Steve loved you, and you loved Steve. He had a reputation, or he did at one point, and the last thing he wanted was for you to feel taken advantage of. More importantly, he wanted to take his time with you.

In the midst of a sweet, languid kiss, you hear the beginnings of Deniece Williams’ ‘Let’s Hear It For The Boy’ and break away from him with an excited gasp.

“Stevie Baby, this one’s for you!” You brace yourself against him enough to flip him onto his back, reversing your previous position and straddling his hips. He giggles when you grab your hairbrush from your nightstand to use as a makeshift microphone, and sing pitchily to the verse.

“‘Cause everytime he pulls me near, I just wanna cheer, let’s hear it for the boy!”

You give a seated performance as you sing and wriggle on his lap. He rolls his eyes in an attempt to pretend like he doesn’t find your theatrics the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.

“Let’s hear it for my baby!” You shake both his shoulders and give him a smacking kiss on the cheek, “You know you gotta understand!”

Steve didn’t know it was possible to be more in love with you than he already was. The adoration he felt for you was insurmountable; the blood in his veins seemingly replaced by pure sunlight that seeped from him wherever you touched. He wanted to marry you, he was sure he was going to marry you.

When the song finally hummed its last notes, you flopped dramatically against his chest. Hair mussed and chest heaving with the exertion of singing him all four minutes of the song. He deserved it, after all.

“Have I ever told you you’re a horrible singer?” he asks playfully.

You swat his chest and laugh, “Rude!”. Forget the other five, teasing was Steve’s love language.

“I still love you, though,”

“Yeah I don’t know, the juries still out,”

“Alright, I think that’s enough out of you,” he says as he flips you over in one sweeping motion to lay on your back again. You’re a fit of laughter as he presses open mouthed kisses down your neck and over your collarbone. 

Your giggling starts to subside when your senses clock how good his lips feel against your skin. You exhale a breathy sigh when one of his large hands presses firmly up your side, his other hand cupping your cheek. He grins up at you before returning to passionately collide his mouth with your own. You moan into it, presenting him with the opportunity to slide his tongue eagerly against yours.

“Nothin’ else to say, huh?” He smirks down at you. You can only respond with a blissful shake of your head ‘No’.

Your legs are hugging either side of his torso, and he gives an experimental grind of his hips against your clothed core. You can feel the hard outline of him and it elicits a groan from you, tugging the hair at the nape of his neck that you have woven through your fingers.

“That feel good?" You’re embarrassed to be panting slightly already, it's just the effect he seems to have on you.

“Yes– Steve,”

The most the two of you had done until this point was hand stuff, and even then it was few and far between. That’s not to say you haven't thought about doing more; lately it actually seems to be all you can think about. You feel like a horndog teenager again.

Steve continues to kiss you as he slips a hand beneath the waistband of your pajama shorts, and he can feel the wet spot already forming on your cotton panties. You let out a breathy whine at the sensation.

“Pussy feels so good baby,” he murmurs against your mouth, “wonder how she tastes,”

Your eyes turn to saucers at his implication, but he only smirks at you as he shuffles slowly down your body, pressing kisses all the way down your torso and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

He makes eye contact with you as he slips two fingers beneath your waistband again to ask, “Can I take these off?”

“Yes, please,” you try not to sound too pathetic as you lift your hips to assist him in removing your layers.

Steve’s never seen you in anything more intimate than a bathing suit on a hot summer day. Now he’s staring at you like you’ve hung the moon just for him. His best friend, the love of his life, and he’s about to go down on you. It feels like an episode of The Twilight Zone.

“Everything okay?” you chuckle nervously, feeling the weight of his gaze on unexplored territory. It feels vulnerable in a way you’ve never felt before, and you’re scared he doesn’t like what he sees. You weren’t a virgin, and neither was Steve; but right now, you might as well have been.

“Yes, yes, sorry. You’re beautiful. It’s perfect, everythings perfect,”

It always feels like the greatest privilege to watch Steve’s usual dominant and confident exterior melt away. It’s not often you get to make him flustered instead of you, and you can’t help but find it adorable.

He nuzzles his stubbly face into your thigh, and inhales deeply; taking in your scent. It causes your stomach to erupt in somersaults. He locks eyes with you as he slowly removes the last barrier between you and his mouth. Self consciousness takes over when you realize he can finally see all of you, causing you to tighten the space between your thighs.

Steve’s quick, though. He stops you with a hand on each leg, keeping you open for him. “Don’t be shy, honey. I wanna see you,”

“Okay, I trust you,” You stare up at your popcorn textured ceiling to escape the intensity of it all. Just then he places a tentative kiss to your clit. It’s barely anything but the surprise of it makes you cry out in pleasure. Steve takes it as a sign to properly begin, and he laps at you like you’re his last meal.

“Oh, Steve!” Your hands fly to his hair and you tug, eliciting a groan from him that vibrates through your core and amplifies the feeling of his tongue on you.

“Taste so sweet, baby,” you can hardly hear him as he’s nose deep in your pussy. The sharp point of it massages your sensitive bud as his tongue teases your entrance.

If that wasn’t enough, you’re seeing stars when his index and middle finger breach your hole, hitting that spongy spot inside of you that only Steve could reach. He curls his fingers as his lips wrap around your clit and you all but grind against his face. He quickens the pace, and you can already feel the beginnings of your climax in your tummy.

“Steve– ah!– I’m gonna come,” you cry and he doesn't change a thing. No speeding up, no slowing down. There’s not a thing on this earth that could separate his mouth from you. All that matters to Steve is making you finish on his tongue, and hearing those sweet little sounds you make when you do.

Your release washes over you in waves as you sloppily grind your hips against Steve’s face. When he finally looks up at you from between your sticky thighs, his face is shiny with you from nose to chin and he’s beaming. Actually beaming.

“Did so good, baby,” he praises as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and leans down to kiss you, “so beautiful,”. It’s a strange thing to taste yourself on someone else’s tongue, but you really don’t hate it. If anything, it turns you on more.

He continues to kiss you with a renewed fervor, you reach a hand between your bodies and palm him against his sweatpants. The whimper you elicit from him spurs you on enough to slip a hand beneath his waistband and take his velvety length into your hand.

He doesn’t think he’s ever been so hard in his entire life, every nerve in his body alight like a live wire. Unconsciously, he thrusts into your hand– desperate for some friction. The soft skin of your fingers feels euphoric wrapped around his length.

“God– I love you,” he half groans into the crook of your neck as he grinds against your palm.

“Baby,” you gasp, “I want you– I wanna feel you,” Your hips start to lift again, in search of any type of stimulation. This seems to break him out of his arousal induced trance as he snaps his head up to look you in the eye.

“I– like you want to, want to–?” he sputters, suddenly nervous at the idea. Still, you find his hesitation at your request charming. It’s obvious how much he cares for you.

You giggle, “Yes Steve, I ‘want to, want to’,” you repeat his words back to him in the same cadence, causing him to roll his eyes, though the action has no real irritation behind it.

“Okay– Yeah, Okay,” he’s reeling as he reaches into the drawer of your nightstand to retrieve a condom from the box you’ve kept there for a little over a week now. Tearing the foil with his teeth, he rolls the rubber down his length with expert fingers. You try not to think about the fact that he’s done this probably a million times before you.

“If it hurts or you want me to stop or you don’t like something–”

“I’ll tell you,” you cut off his anxious rambling with a hand on his cheek, “I promise.”

He nods and presses his forehead to your own. It’s a little sticky with sweat already, but you don’t mind. He smells like cinnamon and mint and something so ineffably Steve.

When he finally pushes into you, you’re both gasping into each other's mouths. He wraps his arms around your back in a sort of hug, not bothering to hold himself above you anymore. He needs to be as close to you as he can possibly manage. You return the embrace, locking your ankles behind the small of his back and placing his cheeks in your palms to kiss him deeply.

When he’s finally to the hilt and your hips are completely flush, he gives you a moment to adjust before setting a rhythm.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes– yes, I'm good. You feel so good, Steve,” You can feel tears brimming at your lashes with the intimacy of it all. Having him like this– this is something you’ve only ever dreamed of. The affection you feel is insurmountable.

His hips start at a slow pace, he’s so big you can feel him in your stomach. “Faster, baby, please,”. And who is he to deny you when you ask so politely?

“Don’t cry, love,” He removes a hand from behind your back to wipe away a stray tear, and kisses the salty trail it left down your cheek.

“I just love you– I’ve waited so long,” you hug him tighter around his neck as he starts to pick up the pace.

“I know, I love you,”  You can feel his hips stutter and you realise he’s close. The shared sweetness bringing you both closer to the edge. You cry out again as he repeatedly hits that sweet spot, the small thatch of hair at his base providing the perfect friction.

“I’m close–” he manages to strangle out.

“Me too. Inside me– please,”

He falters only for a moment, “You sure?”

“Yes, Steve, I need you,”

Your nails dig and leave crescent shapes in his shoulders. You miss the sound he makes when you tug gently on his pretty locks, so you do it again. It’s enough to send Steve hurtling over the edge of his orgasm.

“Oh -- I’m coming,” He all but shouts and the sounds he’s making are obscene enough to have you there with him.

“Look at me, baby,” he commands, not unkindly. He’s so pretty like this– cheeks flushed pink, lips permanently fixed in a ‘O’ shape, sweat beading at his upper lip; his brow bone and hairline.

You stare at each other as you come; it’s the most intimate thing either of you have ever experienced. Suddenly you realize Steve has tears welling in his eyes, too. You pull him into a slow, languid kiss. You press your lips to the corners of each of his eyes, as well.

When he moves to pull out, you wince slightly and he soothes his hands up and down your leg as he stands. “I know, honey. Stay there, I'll be right back,”. With that, he slips his boxers back on and makes his way towards the bathroom. When he returns, he’s holding a warm washcloth and a small dixie cup of water. As you drink, he takes the liberty of cleaning you up, as gentle as you’ve ever seen him.

He kneels by the bed to be level with you, and runs a hand over your head to brush away stray hair. The repeated motion in which he does it nearly puts you to sleep.

“Want me to run you a bath?” You almost cry again. How is he real?

“That’s okay, maybe in a little while,” you’re becoming too sleepy to talk properly now, you raise your arms signaling for him to join you in bed. “Just want you to lay with me,”

“I think I can manage that.”

He moves to hold you against his chest, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, and you fall asleep to the sound of his beating heart.

[feyhunter78]

Hi 💕

If requests are still open can you do something Elrond x reader where reader watches him duelling for sword training (or something similar)?

Can be as sweet or spicy as you want❤️

I know you sent this in ages ago, I'm so sorry!!! Also, I'm so bad at describing fighting, please ignore that

Sparring Sessions

You sit with your friend Taethrien on one of the various stone benches that line the outer circle of the training yard. The open space of packed dirt and training dummies, the sounds of sparring and instruction mingling with grunts of exertion from the younger elves.

“Again.” Elrond calls, his voice sharp, like a whip, his face set in stone, as he jerks his head towards the fallen sword of his sparring partner.

The younger elf, Narion, you believe his name is, picks up his sword, and settles back into a sturdy fighting stance, sweat dripping from his brow.

You know you should intervene, insist that your husband take more care with the younger elves, but you find yourself unable to. Your eyes drawn to his form, the graceful but powerful movements, the controlled strength behind his strikes and swings.

“Elrond is quite intense this morn, is he not?” Taethrien says, watching the pair as they begin, Narion lunging first, seemingly not learning his lesson.

You hum in response, captivated by the easy way Elrond deflects the blow. He has not even broken a sweat, but his hair is disheveled from him raking his hand through it.

There is a smirk, almost cocky, on Elrond’s face as Narion growls and tries to fake right and catch Elrond off guard. He sees right through it, striking Narion’s exposed side.

“Oh, poor boy, he must cease leaving his left side so open.” She continues, frowning as the flat of Elrond’s blade taps against Narion’s ribs.

You hum again, feeling your stomach flip when Elrond spots you and sends you a quick smile, a simple uptick of his lips, but it is enough to make a sudden warmth flood your face.

“Y/N?” Taethrien asks, turning to face you, her brows furrowed. “Are you listening.”

“Yes, yes, I agree, left side, much too exposed.” You say far too quickly, remembering where you are and tearing your eyes from Elrond.

She tilts her head, a catlike smile on her lips, but says nothing of your reaction. “My husband should be along soon, perhaps he will present a finer challenge for Elrond than the young ones do.”

“I am sure it will be a worthy display of both their skills.” You smile, bumping your shoulder into hers. “And it will allow me to see this strength of his you are so very fond of.”

 “I told you of that in confidence.” She whispers, blushing all the way to the tips of her ears.

“It is nothing to be ashamed of.” You reassure her, patting her hand.

A sudden shout draws your attention back to the ring, where Elrond has Narion at sword point, the young elf on his back in the dirt. You grip your skirts, a flash of heat surging through you as Elrond sheathes his sword with a one-handed, fluid motion, before pulling Narion up from the dirt.

“It seems we both may have something, not to be ashamed of.” Taethrien teases, making a show of pretending to try and unfurl your fingers.

You do not tease her in return when it is her husband against yours, they are newly married, still in a phase of infatuation, still discovering much about themselves and each other. Besides, you are far too focused on Elrond as he and Iandor spar, their swords singing, sparking through the air, throwing bits of sunlight as it glints off their blades.

“Do keep up Elrond, I know you have not tasted battle in ages, but surely you cannot be this out of practice.” Iandor taunts jovially, a bright smile on his face.

Elrond throws him a devastatingly charming smile in response, the gleam of a worthy challenge in his eyes. “No, my friend, I am simply allowing you the advantage, I would not wish to embarrass you in front of your new bride.”

They spar for what feels akin to eternity as well as mere moments until they call it a draw, both men breathing heavily, clapping each other on the shoulder as they return their weapons to the rack.

You meet Elrond halfway, and he wipes the sweat from his brow, smiling at you, his chest still rising and falling harshly. “My starlight, I can only hope we did not bore you.”

“I never tire of watching you train.” You tell him, dusting the dirt from his training leathers, attempting to banish the memory of your wedding night from your mind. The way he looked hovering above you, his curls wild, his pupils blown wide, his bare chest heaving, the sound of your name on his lips. “I always find such interest in seeing more of this side of you. I know my husband the poet, the herald, the romantic, but I see seldom see my husband the warrior.”

“Truly, I prefer the quill to the sword, but I cannot deny a good bout brings a certain sense of joy to me.” He says, as you both wave goodbye to Taethrien and Iandor.

“You fight well, as you always have.” You compliment, leaning your head against his arm as you walk back to your shared chambers. You must cease these thoughts, stifle the heat, lest you become a lecher for your own husband.

“I am better with a bow.” He deflects, ever so humble.

“You are skilled with both, though I would not say you are a better archer than swordsman.” You tease. “That title belongs to Galadriel.”

Though you say it, your mind’s eye still conjures an image. His deft hands wrapped around the bow, his broad shoulder spread, his spine straight, his arms taut as he pulls back the arrow. Heat rushes through you once more, and you bite the inside of your cheek to clear your mind.

“Yes, I know it is your preference, but it is not…” Elrond stretches his arms behind his head, a small groan slipping past his lips, and you all but trip over your own feet.

“It is not what?” He asks, his hands flying out to steady you. His touch is lightning, striking through you, setting fire to the desire that had been bubbling within you since his blade had met its first foe in the early hours of the morn.

“Stars, Elrond, simply—” You grab him by the collar of his leathers and yank him down, your lips melding with his, frantic and fevered.

He melts into your touch, lips parting as his grip tightens on you, dragging you closer.

You press yourself against him, walking him backwards until his back meets the wall, a surprised gasp escaping him.

“We are still along the path; anyone could come upon us.” He breathes, loathe to separate his lips from yours.

“We will hear them before they do.” You assure him, though you doubt your vigilance and his, when your lips leave his own, trailing across his chiseled jaw, up to his ear, taking his earlobe between your teeth.

Elrond lets out a strangled moan, the sound shooting through you, warming you like Dwarven ale. “Fenedhis, y/n, please.”

You press a chaste kiss to the place beneath his ear, and return your lips to his jaw, your fingertips replacing your teeth, tracing the shell of his ear. “Of course, my love, anything you desire.”

He groans lowly, his fingers bunching in your skirts as he tries to calm himself. “My sweet starlight, do not torture me.”

You untangle one of his hands, and slide it beneath your skirts, a shiver running through you when he grips your thigh and drags you closer. “I would never. I want only to give you what you desire, remember?”

His chest brushes against yours with each breath, leather against silk, desire swirling between you, as he leans down to capture your lips, stopping a hairbreadth away. “Let us return to our chambers then, it seems you much to give me.”

TROP tag list: @nyctophilic0vitnir, @elronds-pointy-ears, @elrondscalaquendi, @dilf-superiority, @jesticace, @emmyspov, @elrondswifey, @victoria-styles, @90angiex, @lucypaulette

[lazysoulwriter]

Shield of Love - Pedro Pascal.

The early morning sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting soft golden patterns across the hardwood floor. You were curled up on the couch, scrolling mindlessly on your phone. Pedro walked into the room with two cups of coffee, his presence always grounding, always warm. He smiled as he handed you one, but there was something slightly hesitant in his expression.

It wasn’t new, this subtle tension. Lately, he had become a little more overbearing, always holding your hand in public, shooting warning glances at any man who so much as smiled in your direction. You adored Pedro—he was your rock, your comfort—but it had started to feel stifling. You knew he meant well, but it was time to address it.

“Pedro,” you started softly, placing your coffee down on the table. He glanced at you, his brow furrowing slightly.

“What’s wrong, cariño?”

You hesitated for a moment, searching for the right words. “I’ve noticed how… protective you’ve been lately. I mean, you’re always protective, but it feels different now. Almost like you don’t trust something—or someone.”

His face flushed immediately, his dark eyes darting away from yours. He sat down beside you, his knee brushing yours. “I—I don’t know what you mean,” he stammered, the tips of his ears turning red.

You tilted your head, giving him a knowing look. “Pedro, I’m not upset. I just… Is it jealousy? Or are you worried about something I don’t know about?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. “It’s not jealousy,” he mumbled. “It’s just… you’re younger than me. Not by a lot, I know, but enough that it makes me—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Enough that it makes you what?” you pressed gently.

“Worried,” he admitted quietly. “Worried that people will judge you, or us. That someone will think they can take advantage of you. You’re my baby, and I just—I want to protect you from everything.”

Your heart softened at his confession, and you reached out to take his hand. “Pedro, I don’t need you to shield me from the world. I chose you, and I’ll keep choosing you, no matter what anyone else thinks.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy and full of vulnerability. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to make you feel suffocated. I just love you so much, and sometimes I don’t know how to handle it.”

You leaned forward, brushing a kiss against his lips. “I love you too. But you don’t have to handle it alone. We’re a team, remember?”

He smiled at that, his usual confidence returning as he pulled you into his arms. “A team,” he echoed. “And I promise, I’ll ease up. But don’t think for a second that I’m not going to keep calling you my baby. Because you are.”

You laughed, burying your face in his chest. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

In that moment, all the tension melted away, leaving only love and understanding in its place.

[queenie-ofthe-void]

Hear Me Out, Keep Me Guessing

Steddie || wc: 2.5k || rating: T || tags: alternate first meeting, pre-S4, Eddie is a rollercoaster of emotions, Steve is over it, fluff and flirting || ao3

Inspired by my own post

☆☆☆

“Okay, Munson. What’s your fucking problem?”

Eddie hops on top of the wooden picnic bench to gain a slight height advantage over whoever’s decided to fuck up his day, when he spots none other than Steve Harrington headed towards him through the trees, fighting his way through brush and bramble.

“Well, well, well. How the mighty have fallen. Crawling through the dirt just to visit his former court jester.” Eddie smirks, hears Harrington mutter something under his breath that sounds a lot like jesus christ before he finally makes his way over.

Harrington’s looking up at him, squinting into the sunlight, and Eddie’s slightly repelled by his sudden desire to run a hand through King Steve’s hair. It shines in the sunlight, matching the flecks of gold in his brown eyes.

Eddie takes a step to the left, casting him back into shadow again where he’s just his normal, asshole self and not the angelic image Eddie conjured from his horny, queer little brain.

He can’t remember if it’s his turn to talk or Harrington’s, but it seems the King’s lost the plot as well. Completely zoned out, he’s just standing there staring up at Eddie, mouth dropped open and eyes wide in a way Eddie will certainly not be thinking about later tonight. Absolutely not.

Eddie coughs. Loud and obnoxious enough to break whatever trance they’ve found themselves in. Harrington awkwardly chuckles, running a hand through his hair. An image of Steve leaning against lockers, towering over a girl with heat in his eyes and a hand in his hair floods Eddie’s brain before he can shake it out like an Etch A Sketch. What the fuck is even happening to him?

“Yeah, Munson. Like, what the hell is your problem?” It lacks punch and drama the second time around, but it gets them back on track. Harrington props his hands on his hips, his lip juts out into a tiny pout, and Eddie wonders if he thinks standing like a disappointed mom is effective in getting what he wants, or if being adorable just comes naturally to the former King.

“You’ll have to be more specific, my liege.” He watches as Harrington brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration and he makes a mental note to develop a better, more refined taste in men.

“The kids, man. Why aren’t you friends with the kids?”

“Kids? What the hell– what kids?” He hops down from the table. If this is going to be a legitimate conversation and not a shake down, he figures it’ll be easier on even footing. Harrington takes the seat opposite him, his shoe accidentally knocking Eddie’s ankle.

Steve doesn’t move his foot. Neither does Eddie.

“My kids, man. They said they tried talking to you all week and you wouldn’t even hear them out!”

Eddie watches his fingers tap absently on the table top. He’s biting the inside of his cheek, and it’s shocking that Eddie is just now realizing that Steve’s actually anxious. Normally Eddie considers himself better at reading people, when he’s not distracted with puffy, pink lips and a confusing line of conversation.

He looks down, rewinding the past week. He’d made it through his first week of his third senior year without anyone getting in his face. Maybe he’s old enough now that even asshole seniors like Jason Carver have decided to leave him alone. Thankfully it seems the offer also extends to Gareth, Kenny, and Jeff, who’ve only reported minor name calling and a light shove.

That’s where he spots them, stops the tape midway through lunch on Wednesday when a group of three freshmen approached the table. He’d spotted the curly-haired kid earlier in the week, bravely decked out in a Weird Al shirt and a hat from some science camp. The kid was enough of a freak to earn free admission to Hellfire, but the other two required a bit more thought.

Eddie clocked Little Wheeler through the station wagon window Monday morning when he’d cut Nancy off in the parking lot. The kid seemed alright, but with a priss like Nancy as a sister, it was a tough call. The other kid seemed a bit too sporty, and a little too interested in basketball tryouts.

When the three amigos started talking DnD, the guys invited them with open arms. It was a relatively peaceful lunch. Exciting even, at the prospect of adding new members to their campaign. They’d mentioned trying to convince a few of their friends to play. A girl named Max Mayfield, who turns out lives a few trailers down from Eddie.

But when the curly-haired kid mentioned Steve Harrington, the Hellfire boys clammed up tighter than nun’s ass. His named dripped from their mouths like it was covered in gold, the hero-worship rotting them from the inside and Eddie wouldn’t stand for it. No true freaks would stand to be friends with an asshole bully like King Steve.

Of course the freshies tried to argue, saying he’d changed. It didn’t matter to the Hellfire boys. Clearly the freshmen were corrupted, and they couldn’t be trusted. So he’d sent them on their way, and the three of them posted up in the corner of the lunchroom every day since. Far away from jocks and freaks alike.

Now, Eddie looks across the table and sees false bravado slathered over the anxiety etched into the former King’s face. He doesn’t know how three freshmen freaks found themselves under the wing of Steve Harrington, but it seems the feeling is mutual. Steve cares about these kids.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, “I remember them. What’s it to you, Harrington? Aren’t they a little too old for a babysitter.” The joke falls flat when Steve sighs, heavy and exhausted, like somehow a rich boy from the Loch carries the entire world on his shoulders.

But he plays it off, trying to meet Eddie’s quip halfway. “Babysitters get paid, dude. I do it from the goodness of my heart or some shit.” Steve leans back, scrubs his hands over his face like he can erase whatever’s behind his eyes.

Eddie stares at him, hoping to catch a glimpse. The only consolation is Steve puts his other foot on the opposite side of Eddie’s, his ankle now fully cradled between Steve’s.

“They’re nerds, man.” Harrington states it like it’s a fact and not an insult he’s hurled at Eddie a hundred times over the years. “They’re freaks, you know– like you.”

Moment officially broken, Eddie scoffs, pushing away from the table wondering why he ever entertained talking with Harrington in the first place. As he grabs his lunchbox off the forest floor, he hears shuffling behind him.

“Wait,” Harrington shouts. “Just, fuck man, can you just let me finish?”

“Finish what, exactly?” Eddie snaps, whirling around to crowd into his space. He wears big and scary like how the King wears his crown and how assassins wield their blades. With enough power and confidence to scare off any enemy. “Finish listening to you shit on the little guy? Listen to you harp on the freaks of the world, or how you corrupted your little pions?”

“What?” Steve asks, lips pursed and eyebrows scrunched. Eddie’s not surprised his jock-rattled brain couldn’t find that word in its very limited dictionary, but what does surprise him is that Steve doesn’t back down. They’re practically nose to nose, so close Eddie can spot a small freckle on his lash-line, and Steve’s standing here like he doesn't have a care in the world while Eddie screams in his face.

It’s quiet again. He can hear the rustle of tall grass and birds overhead. He can feel Steve’s breath on his lips and Eddie can’t remember what they were talking about. Again.

Steve grabs his shoulders, and in his daze, Eddie lets himself be maneuvered back to sitting at the picnic table, while Steve stands in front of him.

“Are you always big and loud and obnoxious? Can you just cut the shit for like, five minutes so we can have a normal fucking conversation. Jesus christ, you’re practically perfect for them.” The last part is quieter, seems more like an unfiltered afterthought.

“Ok,” Eddie says. If Steve’s willing to take the crown off long enough to talk with Eddie, then maybe he can shed his own metaphorical battle vest. “Say what you have to say, then.”

Steve clears his throat, shuffles slightly as he gains his footing. He looks at Eddie with a determined set to his shoulders.

“Henderson, Sinclair, and even Wheeler– they’re my kids. I’ve spent the last nine months watching out for those little shits because all they’re good at is getting into the worst kinds of trouble.” Eddie tracks him as Steve paces the forest floor, rambling and raking a hand through his hair like it helps him think. “But I remembered you didn’t graduate, right? And you run that Dungeons and Dragons club–”

“Whoa, whoa,” Eddie interrupts. Steve stops, turns to face him, and shoots him the bitchiest glare Eddie’s ever seen, but before he can say anything, Eddie pushes on. “You, Steve Harrington, King of Hawkins High, leader of meatheads and bimbos alike, know what Dungeons and Dragons is?”

Steve sighs, hands back on his hips as he rolls his eyes. “Ha ha, Munson. Don’t worry it’s all against my will, okay? I’m not coming to steal your freaks and weirdos so I can lead them too.” He smirks, and it pulls a laugh out of Eddie, shocked that Steve’s willing to joke around with Eddie at all, let alone when it’s at his own expense.

“Now, quit interrupting me, you’re as bad as Henderson.”

Eddie mimes zipping his lips closed, only to open his mouth to swallow the imaginary key. Butterflies explode in his chest at the sound of Steve laughter, and Eddie wonders if bashing his head into a tree would be a decent excuse to explain the red flush erupting on his face.

“Anyways,” Steve chuckles. “They’re smart as shit but don’t know when to give something up just to get out of a fight. I’m surprised they haven’t gotten their asses handed to them already, and everyday I pick them up all I'm thinking about is which one of them I’m gonna have to stitch up. Sure, some of the guys in the grade below were alright, like Andy. But guys like Hargrove, like Carver.” Eddie can practically see the dark cloud form over Steve’s brow.

He remembers as well as anyone the fallout of Harrington v Hargrove, Fall 1985. There’d been endless rumors about what happened, each one more ridiculous than the last. Now he’s left wondering if it’s not really about Nancy, or drugs, or Billy fucking Steve’s mom, but about these kids. The timing checks out, nine months on babysitting duties lines up pretty well with when Steve showed up to school beaten and broken.

Maybe Steve isn’t all he seems to be.

“Guys like Carver won’t mess with you. They’re too scared you’re using DnD to worship the devil and get kids into sodomy and drugs and shit like that. I told them that you’d be cool. That you’re big and loud, that you play DnD like them. You're smart and you read the same nerdy books. I told them they’d be safe with you, man.” Steve rubs his face again, until his hands fall to the sides and he tilts his head up towards the sky. “I just need to know someone’s looking out for them. Please, Eddie, just–”

“Okay.”

Steve’s attention snaps back to him, relief written plain as day in the wide set of his smile. “You’re serious?”

Eddie can’t help but smile back. He’s not sure he’s ever seen Steve smile so unguarded, and never aimed his way. The sheer brightness of it fills him with warmth he wants to wrap himself up in.

All on top of the fact Eddie's never gotten this many compliments from anyone before, let alone from a guy as gorgeous as Steve Harrington. His ears are practically on fire.

“Yeah, Harrington. I’ll share custody of your little nuggets.” Before he knows what’s coming, Steve sweeps him up into a hug, lifts him fully off the ground and can feel the tinkling of his laughter on the shell of his ear.

“Thanks, Munson. Damn, you have no idea how freaked out I’ve–”

“What about the other stuff?” Eddie can’t stop himself from asking. He has to know, deep in his bones, that Steve is thinking this through. That Steve won’t change his mind in a few days or months and decide it’s time for Eddie Munson to eat dirt.

He lets Eddie go, but holds his shoulders at arms length to look him in the eye. Any lingering mirth has been replaced with intent curiosity. “What stuff, Munson?”

He can tell by Steve’s tone they’re both talking about the same thing. Rumors that’ve haunted Eddie since eighth grade after Davey Richardson beat him up under the bleachers. It didn’t matter that Davey kissed him first, all that mattered was he was popular and Eddie was weird.

He’d grown numb to the slurs over the years, but how could he forget hearing the reason why Byers beat the shit out of King Steve. The only surprise from that fight was it sounded like he never even tried to fight back.

“Harrington, if I don’t get to act loud and obnoxious, then you don’t get to play dumb.” The intensity of Steve’s stare reminds him of the few conversations he’d had with Chief Hopper before he’d died. The man could tear Eddie down to the bones with one glare, and he’s sure it’s the only reason the Chief brought him back to the trailer instead of a jail cell.

“Eddie,” Steve says, tone firm, “I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t care about the shit people say, especially self-righteous assholes like Carver. The only thing I give a shit about is you watching over the little gremlins and not selling them drugs, so I can breathe easier when I don't have eyes on them.”

Steve shakes him lightly, like it’ll sift this world-changing view into his brain, then pats his shoulder as he passes by him.

“Wait,” Eddie shouts, always a glutton for punishment. He spins around to catch Steve walking backwards away from him, hands in his pockets, effortlessly cool. The sun’s catching his hair again and there’s a smirk on his lips. “You really don’t care?”

Steve laughs, taking a step back. He chews on his bottom lip, and he smiles when he catches Eddie looking. Because he knows. Steve knows now, before Jeff or Wayne or anyone else.

“Eddie, whoever you decide to love or fuck– or not– is none of my business.” He turns to leave, and as Eddie relaxes he hears Steve call out, “unless you want it to be.”

Steve’s light laughter follows him out of the woods, and Eddie plops himself down in the same spot on the same wooden bench in the exact same forest as he always does every Friday after school. Except a twenty minute conversation with Steve Harrington leaves Eddie feeling like his world's been turned upside down.

Maybe ‘86 will be his year, after all.

[deusfoundry]

inspired by the first like 3 minutes of raf's 4* card: glistening hearts! its my first time writing for him so any notes on his characterization is much appreciated ehe thank u MWAH

you're stuck in bed for two whole hours after you've woken up because of your boyfriend.

you tried. you really, really tried to get up, but even in deep slumber, rafayel possesses the ability to feel your every move and know how to respond accordingly.

you couldn't find it in yourself to mind for the first ten minutes. your days off from work are few and far in between, and you have to admit that there's no lovelier sight to wake up to than rafayel, unblemished face with his hair parted down the middle and remarkably free of tangles. you spend a nearly embarrassing amount of time just staring at him, but when you spot the clock on his bedside table flashing 9:05 AM in bright green, you knew it was time to get the day started.

except, rafayel is not having any of that.

you begin to stir beside him, digging your palms into silk sheets to push yourself up and off the bed, when rafayel's arm flies around your waist. he pulls you back down, completely ignorant of the loud yelp that tears through you throat as he mumbles something incoherent.

you lie frozen in bed. a beat passes. then two. and when you deem rafayel is still asleep, you take advantage of his relaxed arm and attempt to peel it off your skin, movements slow and steady to not rouse him.

but before your fingers could even graze his arm, he pulls you closer, wrapping his limb tighter around your waist until it has coiled all the way to the small of your back.

"stay."

ice runs down your spine at the feeling of rafayel trailing kisses from the crook of your neck down to your shoulder, the odd sensation of slightly chapped lips leaving wet kisses makes you shiver.

"rafayel..." your voice falters, the last syllable of his name falls off your lips with a tiny gasp as he refuses to resign in his ministrations.

he hums against your skin, sending vibrations that has the hair on your arm standing. "just five more minutes..."

you have no choice but to relent. there should be nothing wrong with five more minutes in bed, right?

except, five turns into ten. and ten turns into half an hour. and gradually, the sun casting its rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of rafayel's room turns into anything but pleasant. it starts to burn, and finally, finally rafayel loosens his arm around your waist.

"so nice of you to join the land of the living."

he groans. "five mor-"

"absolutely not." you pry yourself off of him before he can even think about coaxing you into bed again. you throw the covers off of rafayel. he whines, something about being exposed to the harsh and freezing temperature of his room.

even the thought of being annoyed at him for forcing you to start your day well into the morning dissolves as you giggle at his antics. you decide to have just the tiniest bit of mercy on him. crawling into bed, you bring your hands up to remove his knuckles rubbing the sleep off his eyes.

the view he has of you is blurry, eyes almost completely shut over the endless stream of sunlight glaring at him, but he sees just enough of your face, brows relaxed and cheeks pulled up by the smallest of smiles. it warms his heart, the achingly soft gaze you bless him with.

"i'll get started on breakfast." you push his hair back, gathering the ends within your fist to hold it above his head. how adorable. "time to get up, cutie."

--

rafayel finds you in the kitchen half an hour later. he wants to insist that he didn't fall back asleep after you left him, but he knows you know him better than that, so he doesn't bother trying.

the room smells of nothing but flour and sugar and the tiniest hint of chocolate chips. rafayel inhales once more, deeper this time, and finds the faint touch of strawberries mixed in with the sweet aroma.

he stalks closer, barely makes the effort to silence his footsteps, until he finds your back pressed against his chest. he leans in, lips purposely ghosting over the shell of your ear. satisfaction thrums within him at the quiet gasp you let out.

"smells really good." rafayel hums, knees bending so he can bury his face into the crook of your neck.

you can't quite tell if he's referring to the food or you.

"it's pancakes, raf." your bodies shake in sync with each other as you both chuckle.

you freeze to a stop right in the middle of flipping the pancake when you feel rafayel's hand on your skin. they start from the middle of your thigh, deft fingers dancing on bare skin. a thought flashes briefly through your mind, that these fingers, having crafted the most enchanting pieces of art, are now painting your skin with stars. you try to steady yourself, but rafayel creeps his hand beneath your (his) shirt and spreads them out on the curve of your waist.

you're a goner by then, when he begins to press and prod at the flesh. the hand holding the spatula shakes, and you nearly drop the utensil if not for rafayel taking carefully yanking it off and placing it down on the kitchen counter.

he turns you around to face him, shifting your body to his right to keep you from getting caught in the fire burning behind you. his hand now rests on your lower back, while the other grasps at the end of your chin.

rafayel remains unmoving. he's intent on burning this image of you into the back of his eyelids. hair disheveled, plump lips parted, eyes trembling in anticipation. you're waiting for him, visibly growing more impatient by the second.

"rafa-" your patience snaps at the same time his resolve does. he pulls your lips into a kiss, swallowing the muffled gasp into his own.

your lips move in a practiced dance you wholeheartedly know. the rhythm is etched into the fabric of your soul, and if you close your eyes and let yourself drown in the moment deeply enough, you can almost hear a song fading into the background. one that exists only to match the steps of your dance. he tilts his head, leaning in as if to devour you whole and the song picks up its pace, tempo quickening. a moan stumbles out of your lips and the tune falls into a crescendo, the steady beat grows louder until it pounds into your ear almost painfully.

rafayel pulls away, giving your dulled senses a chance to find their bearings, and that's when you register the smell of something burning. your eyes widen at the smoke billowing from the frying pan, fogging up the kitchen.

"rafayel, the pancakes-!" you urge him to move away from you so the situation can be dealt with. or at least, you tried to, before rafayel swoops in to plant his lips on yours once more.

you gather enough strength to push him off, but your attempts are futile. his hand fumbles around for the knobs of the stove to turn the fire off. a mischievous grin grows on his lips as he speaks into the kiss, voice drawled and raspy.

"i guess we'll just have to order in."

dividers by @cafekitsune

[stuck-writing-sickos]

In Poor Taste [P3]

[Series Link]

(Yandere × F! Reader)

[Warning: explicit language, uncomfortable interaction, pushiness]

[A/N: ok, the pace has been slow, but it's gonna pick up in the next chapter 🙏🙏🙏thank u guys for supporting my story so far. Lmk how we feel about Lukas and Yuki ❤️❤️❤️]

You were never crazy about spoiled rich men. They were nothing but troubles.

Yuki Sakamoto didn't like the new guy. He would never say that, but he would think it. From across the teacher's lounge he would see the newcomer sitting with his head tilted back, his feet gliding on the floor as he played with the office chair. The carefree manner with which this American carried himself was a sore thorn he couldn't avoid seeing, given that Yuki's tall frame forced his head to peak past the cubicle walls, alligning his vision perfectly with the sight.

Yuki supposed this guy should not be his problem. After all, the foreign department had never been not loud and unkempt, save for the few dilligent teachers who kept to themselves, fading in and out silently like shadows. He managed the Science subsection, and from what he heard, this freckled eyesore would fall into Literature. Into your hand.

So, not his problem.

Still, he couldn't help but feel the irksomeness. Yuki blamed the summer heat. The window directly behind him was catching bright sunlight, and the flimsy blinds could not filter out enough heat. The suffocating AC air wasn't of much help, what with roughly 30 other teachers recycling their breaths between 4 walls. The cicada's maddening screams was adding to Yuki's mood - his blaring headphone could not mask them. His fingers danced across his sleek keyboard, desperate to punch in the last exam's score to the excel sheets. He felt his heavy eyelids drooping and his tense shoulders slouching. Yet, across from him, the newbie was scrolling on his phone, gliding on the chair's wheel as if he was a bored guest.

Yuki wondered if you even assigned this jackass anything, or if you had simply taken on the workload yourself. You had always been like that: quiet and accepting. Surrendering. You let your department get away with too much. At that thought, he couldn't help but chew on his lip a little. A poor boss, that was what you were. You didn't know how to distribute workload, leaving your guys dependent and spoiled. Yuki much preferred his team: quick, straight to the point, and no nonsense.

He felt bad for you. It couldn't be helped, though: you had the expertise that compelled his respect, but your reluctant attitude was wearing you down. Your team sure knew how to take advantage of that.

Lost in his thought and the repetitive manual task, Yuki let himself flinch a little at the bell. He glanced at his americano now so dilluted that the coffee had sunken to the bottom, leaving melted icecubes and murky cold water to float atop. The sweat building around the plastic cup left a puddle on his desk. Yuki wiped it off, his face souring. He didn't even finish his coffee before lunchtime.

Maybe he was in a bad mood because he was hungry and insufficiently caffeinated.

The door slid open. Here you were, walking in silently. You never made loud sounds. Even when you spoke, your voice was soft and quiet. Yuki could never really make out what you were saying if he hadn't paid close attention.

"Mr. Sakamoto?"

That would be him.

Your meek voice barely reached him from over there. Yuki saw you setting your books down in your cubicle. His head perched up as he smiled at you. He had a soft spot for you, despite his opinions on your management skills. In truth, he was worried, and when he couldn't voice his concern for you to the degree he felt, his worries fermented into frustration. Seeing that new slack-off playing on his phone right beside your cubicle could not have helped.

"Yes, I'm ready", he smiled and stood up, knocking on his chair gently. It slid backward a touch too far, and he awkwardly fumbled as he set it back into its place.

By chance, he had become your lunch buddies for the last 2 years. The first year, he didn't care to get to know you all that much. By the second year, Yuki's walls had gone down after your serious attitude proved to be consistent, and it was completely dismantled ever since he discovered your music taste and his was a perfect fit. He liked to talk to you: you were gentle and kind, not overly affectionate or friendly, something he didn't expect from the foreign dept. Plus, you tried to accompany him during lunch as often as possible. "Why", he did ask you one time, and you simply responded with "well, it's no fun eating alone". But you never specified who was "alone", and he didn't feel like pushing it.

As he made his way toward you, Yuki saw the new guy stood up with an expectant look. "Well, where are we going?" - he asked, his head turned toward you. Yuki's nose scrunched at that, but it quickly relaxed so as for you not to notice. Was that something you had planned?

You seemed dumbfounded, too. Your wide eyes darted between both men, lingering on Yuki to scan his reaction.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't think I ever introduced Mr.Lukas to you, Mr. Sakamoto", you laughed nervously, your hand gesturing to direct Lukas' attention to him, "Mr. Lukas here is going to be a new member of my team. He will also be working on the summer program with us."

Upon closer look, Yuki found less reasons to like Lukas. This was clearly a fresh grad who only came to Tokyo for the experience. He could see the lack of care in his boyish face - he was not taking much seriously.

Yuki would not say that. But he would think it.

"Pleased to meet you", he said, shaking the outstretched hand that Lukas silently offered. He could feel the weight of the man's stare.

The feeling was mutual, then.

The awkward silence was heavy. Yuki shifted. He was about to just leave you to it on the off-chance that he was interrupting when you suddenly spoke: "I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Lukas. I was hoping to discuss some confidential work details with Mr. Sakamoto. Can we have lunch together another time?"

"Oh?" Lukas arched his brows at you, incredulity left bare on his face. Yuki felt himself internally scowling when his empty green eyes turn to his direction, as if to ask for confirmation.

How rude. How very, very rude.

"Apologies, Mr. Lukas", he came to your aids, "there were some issues with her contract regarding the summer program. I would love for you to join us for lunch any other day."

"Does tomorrow work?"

Yuki was stunned. He was used to pushiness from new employees who were clueless about Japanese social cues, but never to this extent. From the 2 years he had spent in Australia, Yuki had gathered that this conversation was an evident rejection. He wondered if this kid was dumb or purposefully grating.

Before he could open his mouth, you interrupted between nervous laughter: "Of course, Mr. Lukas. See you tomorrow!"

"Okay. Bye you guys. Good to meet you Sakayono!"

Yuki was wide-eyed. He saw Lukas' smug eyes challenging him.

"Very well then", he said, bewildered. You followed him, your eyes somewhere as big as his own.

Only until the teacher's cafeteria did Yuki peeped about Lukas.

"How's the new kid?"

Your expression dropped as you settled in to your seat, your neat lunchboxes unwrapped from the handkerchief.

"Well, he's not a kid. He's only 4 years younger than you."

Yuki's mood was getting to him, and he let it slip- "as far as attitudes go, that's a kid to me."

You didn't react. Perhaps you shared his opinion. Lukas opened his own packed meal, lightheaded now. His eyes were still readjusting to natural light after staring at a screen for too long.

"I agree, he's quite young. But I'm hoping he would be a good addition to the team. He did sign a 2-year contract."

Yuki found your feigned optimism both sad and frustrating. Sad because you were trying so hard to be professional when that eyesore wasn't, and frustrating because he was personally disrespected just moments ago.

"Are you for real?"

You painfully laughed.

"I know... I know... but what else can I do beside my best, right? Plus, he is actually smart. All the task I handed him was done like", you snapped your fingers, "that."

"Well, that's ... good. I guess that's why he was sitting like that all morning."

"Yeah, but hey, he got his job done. He is pretty new. I'm sure he will learn about the culture soon enough."

Your eyes scanned his face. It seemed he was too tired to hide his feelings.

"Sakamoto, please don't worry. I will be fine. There are better things to look forward to, right? Like your show tonight!"

Yuki bashfully looked down at his half-eaten meal, his ears going red. He had been performing underground since ever, but hearing it from other people's mouth never failed to render him an embarrassed mess. Likely it was the switch-up: he still found it hard to balance between his daytime self as a serious teacher and the "him" who played electrice guitar to drunken crowds under blinding stage lights. You knew his secret - you, someone from work, someone that happened to stumble upon the flyer his band had posted online last December wherein his face was unfortunately unmasked. Before they took it down, you had managed to take a screenshot and rushed to him. "You?" -your dreadful message read above the attached picture. Yuki still shuddered remembering that moment: his blood was cold as ice.

Sometimes, that's what happens when your music tastes match perfectly.

"It's... nothing special."

"Well, I'll be there this time, for sure."

Before Yuki could thank you for the support, he was once again startled.

"Be where?"

Too engrossed in the conversation, he was caught by complete surprise when Lukas towered over the table. In sync, you and Yuki turned, neck craning to meet eyes with the young trainee.

Lukas stared you down, disregarding completely the other end of the conversation. Once again invisible, Yuki uncomfortably readjusted his glasses.

"Oh, um...We were just talking about-

Lukas leaned closer, his frame closing in on you. Your eyes met Yuki's in a moment of panic before going back to the man who looked as if he was in an interrogation. Yuki now could notice the quality of the obnoxious new guy's clothes - nicely ironed blue button-up with seamless stitching, and a long pair of slacks with a glistening leather belt. Must be alligator skin, Yuki thought to himself, barely hiding disdain toward the wastefulness.

"I'm sorry", Lukas spoke, his voice slow and deeper than usual, "I couldn't quite hear you. You have a very soft voice."

"Oh, sorry. I was just talking about-

"It's an underground punk rock show", Yuki interrupted smilingly, "we were just talking about how nice it would be if we could attend one some day."

Lukas turned to him only partly, his body still pointed at you.

"Oh? Is one happening tonight? I'd love to catch one, too."

"I didn't know you were into rock music."

"Well, I'd love to try out new things. I'm in Japan, for starter."

"Unfortunately we both have plans tonight, so even if there were any, we wouldn't be able to make it."

"Both of you? A plan together?" - Lukas now turned to you again.

"Not together...", you patiently responded, your eyes downcasted, "I'm having dinner with a friend, and Mr. Sakamoto here has something else going on."

Now blatantly ignoring Yuki, Lukas chuckled.

"I didn't know you were into punk rock. You didn't tell me that over drinks last Friday."

Yuki knew too well it wasn't out of the ordinary for a senior colleague to fratenize with a junior early into a job, but the attitude on Lukas and the didrespectful way he framed it left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.

He now found the persistent smile on Lukas' face very, very, very shitty.

"It wasn't something worth mentioning", you shook your head.

"Well, then I definitely will catch a show soon!"

Yuki felt like a crazy person watching this chucklefuck flirt. He was close to be embarrassed on his behalf - just juvenile and completely out of bound.

"Mr. Lukas", he cut in, "if you don't mind, we would love to catch up with you any other time. As we said, we were hoping to discuss some confidential materials."

"I thought you guys were talking punk rock?"

"It was just a passing thought."

Lukas looked to you who nodded in agreement.

"Oh, my bad, my bad. I'm still new to all the- you know! Well don't mind me, then."

Yuki waited for the guy to disappear completely behind the cafeteria door for his expression to sour. He could not hide it any longer.

"Good kid", he snarkily commented. You slumped in your seat, your eyes squeezed shut tight.

"Should we just get him the hell out of this school before he actually causes you trouble?" Yuki pressed.

Your face fell at that. You looked down, your fingers tapping on the table softly. Your chest heaved.

"I'm sorry... I overstepped."

"No", you waved your hand, trying to play it off, as if your voice didn't crack, "it's okay. I'm fine. You didn't-

If it was Lukas' plan for lunch to be unbearably awkward, he got what he wanted.

"Hey, don't you worry. Wanna see something that will make you feel better?"

Make him feel better? You were the one that needed that care. Yuki opened his mouth to protest, but you were quicker to flash your phone screen toward him.

The QR code to his show.

"See? I won't backtrack this time, for sure! I felt bad to get sick right before your last show."

Yuki's chest still felt heavy, but the way you reacted just then told him to drop it.

"Don't beat yourself up about that. You couldn't help getting sick."

You sheepishly grinned.

"I know... but I was sad to miss it. Well, this time there is no way I would!"

Yuki laughed.

"Thank you... we're no good, but I'm glad you'll be there."

"I already listened to your album, you know."

"I know."

When lunch was over, Yuki still felt a nagging anxiousness. He couldn't blame the hunger now. Clearly, something else bothered him. He wanted to say it was the lack of caffeine or carbonhydrate in his meal, but he knew that it was neither. It was the creep that cornered you, and likely will so many more times in the next two years.

His suspicion was in some way validated almost immediately. Right as he returned to the teacher lounge, his eyes met Lukas' monitor which displayed a punk rock clothing website. Lukas himself was nowhere in sight and neither were you - it was most likely that you had taken him to observe some lessons.

Upon this discovery, Yuki couldn't help the part of himself that found Lukas pathetic and desperate. So he chuckled. But another part reminded him that despite the ridiculousness, it was best for him to keep an eye out for this clown from now. Even though this person may be off-putting to the point of comedy, there was something strange about him.

Yuki thought it, but he didn't want to say it yet.

[cxffecoupx]

sunlight peeks in gently through the windows and curtains of your shared bedroom. the cold has you and jeonghan wrapped in the blanket. he hogged it in the night, but you managed to fight back, successfully this time. the warmth of the sunlight plus the warmth from han's body makes it very difficult to get out of bed.

and he has decided to take advantage of it.

"don't go...." he whines. he's half asleep, eyes closed shut, but the grip he has on your body says otherwise.

"i can't do that and neither can you. get up now, or else we'll both be late," you nudge him out of bed, but he just snuggles closer into you.

"ynnn... don't goo... we can cuddle like this the whole day. you know we deserve it..."

you sigh. dating jeonghan has made you understand that winning against him is almost impossible.

so you decide to give in.

"fine. i'll call in sick today."

"okay! I'll call seungcheol and tell him too," he says and rolls over to his side of the bed to grab his phone.

"seungcheol, hey... i don't think I can come to work today.... no, it's just that yn's fallen sick so i need to take care of her.... no it's not very serious, she just wants me here...."

your eyes bulge out so much you think they've fallen out. the heck he means you were sick?! the heck he means you asked him to stay??

"yeah, okay thanks cheol," he says and hangs up and captures you in a huge, suffocating hug.

"i gotchu now... all mine..."

[loveshotzz]

for your blurbs:

‘bent over a table while something bakes in the oven.’

with my favorite bartender. maybe it’s his birthday or somethin’ :)

Hi bf 🥰 I hope you enjoy your boyfriend being a birthday boy menace.

A/N: this blurb is with bartender!eddie from my whatta man au, but can be read as a stand alone. just know it’s your bartender boyfriends 32nd birthday.

wc: 1.9k

warnings: 18+ for smut,fem!reader, dirty talk, mild food play, spanking, cream pie for days

“I thought I wasn’t supposed to see the cake before the party babe?”

Eddie’s voice echoes down the hall from your bedroom, an annoyed sigh escaping from between your lips when you stop stirring the chocolate icing you’d just ask him to come try.

“That’s the bride before the wedding, and you weren’t supposed to be hereeee.” You call back in an irritated song when you remind him of his three a.m. decision to come and see you after his shift at The Foxy Lounge using the significance of today to get you to say yes. “But since you are, I want the birthday boy to tell me if this is sweet enough for him.”

You wipe your hands on your sleep shorts that you haven’t been able to change out of yet, turning around only to be crowded against the counter in a blur of black and ripped denim by mister thirty two himself. Your palms land flat against his chest as his full lips start peppering kisses all over your face and the giggles he gets only encourage him further. The hard formica pressing against your back becomes smooth against the bottom of your thighs when he lifts you up to sit on it instead. You squeal his name when he pushes himself between your legs with the kind of smile that gives you butterflies like the first night you met him.

“I really like it when you call me birthday boy.” Wiggling his eyebrows, you can still see the dimples that poke his cheeks under his scruff, while big ring-covered hands find a home on the curve of your ass pulling you closer to the edge. The silver chain attached to his wallet that dangles from his belt is cool against the skin of your calf from the A/C when you wrap your legs around him.

“I’m not surprised in the slightest,”You grin, unable to stop the way one of your hands fluff’s out his freshly washed curls. The softness from your deep conditioner is evident against your fingertips. “Now are you going to try this frosting or not before Steve takes you away.”

“I also really like when you’ve got a lil attitude like this,” Eddie teases, nudging the round end of his nose with yours as he leans to try and steal a kiss only for the plush softness of his full lips to hit your cheek instead and it actually makes him whine a little, “come on, it’s my birthday.”

“Try the frosting and maybe I’ll reconsider.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you catch the way he has to physically pull his eyes away from your now pushed up tits.

He sucks the skin of his teeth, looking at you with a narrowed stare before raising his eyebrows at you in a silent challenge. Nodding before shrugging a little too casually, he dips his index finger into the rich velvet, the boars head that dons it catching in the sunlight.

“Fine, I’ll try it. No problem baby, anything for you.” His tone is the only warning you get before the chocolate that matches his eyes is smeared sloppily across your lips.

Eddie doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of your open mouth when you gasp, doing what you asked of him while also still getting what he wants. His hand reaches up, cupping your cheek in his palm letting the pad of his thumb coax you open for him with a swipe of his tongue collecting the chocolate from your bottom lip before meeting yours in the middle with a low groan. It’s a battle for dominance before he sucks yours gently, getting your back to arch and fingers to bury themselves in his curls, melting into him just like the sugar.

He grins into the kiss when the heels of your feet start to dig into the curve of his butt, your irritation from before forgotten with a roll of your hips. He smacks his lips against yours once, twice, three times before he pulls away more than proud of himself when you look at him with a dazed smile and glazed over half hooded eyes.

“Mmm, I think I need another taste. What do you think?” His nose ring bumps against your heated cheek when he kisses you again, this one softer, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his finger makes its way back into the bowl of chocolate by your hip.

“I think it’s your birthday, you can do whatever you want.” The double meaning in your words doesn’t go unnoticed, black pupils taking over coffee ground eyes.

The sarcastic remark he has about your attitude just minutes ago is quickly forgotten when your hand wraps around his wrist bringing his frosting covered finger to your lips. He can feel the warmth between your thighs that lock him in place, cock twitching against the seam of his ripped jeans when you lick a long stripe up the side before bringing it entirely into the heat of your mouth. Hollowing out your cheeks as you suck, his eyes hit the back of his head with a muttered ‘fuck’ and a rock of his hips in search for the kind of friction only you can give.

You release him with a loud pop that bounces off the walls of your kitchen and you’ve never been more thankful for your roommate to be out of town. There’s a hunger in his stare that wasn’t there before when it meets yours and the fingers spread across your ass grab at the soft flesh pulling you closer. The evidence of your teasing makes you moan when it presses against your clit.

“Gonna let me bend you over then?” The gravel in his voice is unmistakable, leaning his forehead against yours as he looks at you from under thick lashes.

“Uh huh” you nod, letting your top lip connect with his bottom one in a dare, a deep exhale blowing through his nose when he smells the chocolate on your breath.

“That’s my sweet girl,” he grins, stepping back just enough for you to get off the counter, both of his hands finding your sides to help you down, “just like your icing.”

Your eyes don’t leave his as you make a show of letting your body slide down the length of him with a smile. Nipples hardening under your tank top as they rub down his chest. He curses under his breath, licking his lips when you turn around to press your ass firmly against the throb in his jeans. A teasing thrust from him has your palms find the counter top for support, while his hands wrap tight around your curves.

“Fuck, look at you.” He’s mesmerized by the dip of your back as you arche for him, the hem of your shorts stretching over the fat of your ass, riding up just below your cheeks. He wants it to be his birthday every day.

“Better hurry up before Steve starts callin’” You tease looking back over your shoulder with a wiggle of your hips.

“Hmmpf '' Eddie huffs with one more thrust, ringed fingers curling around the sides of your shorts, stepping back just enough to let them pool at your feet. “He can wait, this is more important.”

He grabs a handful of your ass, spreading you apart to reveal just how wet you already are and the sight of it makes him groan. He works on the button of his jeans, metal clinking when they fall to the floor.

Dripping for him, he slides the tip of his cock along the seam of your cunt with ease, catching against your clit making you keen. You push back for more and the heat of his palm connects to your cheek with a smack, the metal of his rings adding an extra sting that makes you gush.

“Don’t be rude baby, I’m the birthday boy.” He reminds you, watching how your ass jiggles the way he likes.

“Don’t get cocky - ohmygod” The air is taken out of your lungs when he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes in without warning, the stretch when he bottoms out with his chest to your back makes your eyes pinch shut with a whine.

“I think you like it,” His words come out right next to your ear in a breath of peppermint and chocolate that make goosebumps rise along the back of your neck.

He doesn’t wait for you to respond before he stands up straight, fingers digging into the dough of your hips when he pulls almost all the way out before filling you back up to the hilt. Circling his hips, his tip bullies the spot that makes your toes curl and the flutter of your walls encourages him to start his unrelenting pace. The first three strokes make your jaw go slack, fingers curling around the edge of your countertop, the ends of your nails scratching against the wood underneath.

“Always feel so good baby, Jesus - sucking me in like she can’t get enough.” The lewd sounds of your slick and the slap of his hips against your ass fill the quiet of your apartment, a low whine pulling from your throat when he adjusts hitting a different angle.

“Eddie - fuuuck.” You can’t find it in yourself to care how pathetic you sound, not when two calloused fingers start playing messily with your swollen bundle of nerves.

“Yeah sweet girl? That feels nice?” Hunching over you, his strokes get deeper the tip of his nose nudging the shell of your ear.

“S’good” you manage to get out, pushing your hips back meeting his.

His hold on your waist becomes bruising as he keeps making circle eights with the pads of his finger to your puffy clit, while the pattern of his thrusts start to get sloppy when he feels the way you tighten around him like you're close. The slow burn that started deep in your gut starts to become all consuming like this, one of your hands releasing its grip from the counter to cover on top of his between your legs. A low chuckle vibrating in your ear when he picks up the pace.

“Yeah, it’s like that?” You can hear the grin in his voice, and your smart mouth from before is gone. All you can do is nod, your arousal coating both of your fingers and leaving them to slide messy in a way that has your chest tighten, and your mouth fall open.

“Give me my present then baby, come on, give it to me then. Wanna feel you on me all day.” He grunts nipping at your earlobe, and it’s enough to get him exactly what he wants.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” Your eyes squeeze shut when you scream his name, your orgasm washing over you in a burst of heat as he thrusts into you hard enough to push you on to the tips of your toes with every one.

“Shit - that’s it, that’s fuckin’ itttt.” The feeling of your walls constricting around him so much that they try to push him out only makes him bury himself deeper as he paints your insides white. Muscles tensing with his release before they go limp when he melts back into you, huffing out a laugh that fans against your neck.

“The icing is great sweetheart, I can’t wait for the cake.”

[sunlightmurdock]

hands to yourself | dilf bradley bradshaw x nanny!reader (18+)

surprised with an afternoon to himself, bradley takes advantage of the alone-time, thinking about the woman he can’t have.

warnings: shameless pwp, bradley is down bad for his nanny and hasn’t touched himself — or anyone — in a long ass time. masturbation, pining, swearing, fantasising about oral and such. voyeurism, kinda, he gets walked in on. I may write a part two for this but idk yet. I just needed to write a lil smth about him touching himself. Wc: 3k

this is the lingerie set I was thinking of but imagine whatever ya like x

…

Bradley drops his keys into the bowl by the door, they land with a stark rattle. The faint tan-line between his brows disappears into the crease that caused it as he frowns. He looks towards the stairs, and then wanders in the living room. His boots tap softly against the floor.

“Kids?” He calls out into the unfamiliar quiet.

Nothing. His eyes widen in slight panic, pushing his sunglasses up into his hair as he looks around him. The floor is spotless — their toys are stored neatly in their bins, there aren’t any new stains on his rug, and there aren’t any cartoons on his television.

The sound of his boots on the ground are unnerving; he can’t bring himself to admit that he misses the sounds of chaos he usually returns to. He wanders through the house, making a beeline for the backyard. Sunny day like this, he figures that’s where he’ll find them.

Nothing. The yard is completely empty beside the laundry hanging out to dry. His mouth feels dry.

Once the mid-day mind fog dissipates, Bradley’s panic starts to, too. That birthday party. You’d mentioned it twice this week already, and once this morning. He’s just forgetful at the minute — — you know how crazy work has been for him.

He pauses, standing in his unusually clean living room, and purses his lips. His hands come to rest on his hips while he looks around him. He isn’t used to this.

Usually, within seconds of him walking through the door, he’s got a kid attached to his leg or a fight to break up or a permission slip to sign.

There’s nothing that he needs to do.

Nothing urgent.

Nobody else home.

Lifting his wrist, he takes a quick glance down at his watch and considers what to do with his sudden freedom. Birthday parties take a couple of hours, right?

He takes one final look around him, his eyes catching on the laundry drying outside. Clipped to the line is a power-blue balconette bra. He’s seen it before. The day he accidentally walked in on you.

Since you moved in four months ago, Bradley has been especially careful about knocking first. He wishes he could say it’s because he’s a gentleman. Really, it’s just because it made it hard enough for him to keep his hands to himself the first time.

There had been a heatwave that week. You had the afternoon off but Bradley hadn’t been able to find the sunscreen, and his kids are damn near impossible to keep out of the sunlight. With them arguing downstairs and trying to figure out the lock to let themselves out, he just wasn’t thinking and he hadn’t knocked.

“Hey, do you know where you put the—“ He’d stopped, frozen, taking in the sight of you sprawled across your bed. His bed. The bed he gave to you when you got the job of living here. A red popsicle between your lips and a book propped open in front of you, wearing nothing but a powder-blue set.

“Oh—“ Your eyes had gone all wide and surprised, too shocked to move, just like him.

The only thing that reminded him that he even had the option to move was the sound of his son running up the stairs to hurry this process along. He had slammed the door shut, blushing furiously, and turned to face his eldest.

“Found it, dad! It was in my backpack.” Grinning, he had held up the bottle of sunscreen and Bradley had just been forced to continue with his afternoon like he hadn’t seen anything at all.

When he finally peels his eyes away from the line of drying clothes outside, his gaze lands on the basket of dried and folded laundry sitting on his kitchen counter ready to be put away. Sitting right on top, is a glossy looking pair of blue panties that match the bra on the line.

Bradley’s already been kicking himself for his behavior since you got here. It’s downright shameful, the things he lets himself think about you. You’re half his age, first off. Second -- he’s your boss. You live in his house. His kids think you’re their best friend.

They think you’re just here because you love hanging out with them so much, not because their mommy and daddy couldn’t get along for the life of them and daddy works too much.

His mouth waters. Staring at some blue lace in a laundry hamper and his mouth’s practically watering. He’s pathetic. His guy friends keep telling him he needs to get back in the game, start moving on — he hadn’t been so sure. But then, he’s never almost popped a hard-on over a thong in a pile before.

He can picture you so perfectly in them. Your round ass barely covered by the material, legs kicked up behind you and your ankles crossed. When he closes his eyes, he can picture you facing the other way. Your face toward the headboard, your ass right in front of him.

His slacks grow tighter as his neglected cock stirs to life. It occurs to him that he can’t remember the last time he jerked off. Maybe sometime before his middle kid got the flu? — Around a month ago, maybe. His nights since then had been primarily spent clearing up puke.

The sad part is, the thought only tends to occur to him when he’s at work. Home is always far too hectic. For a while now, he’s been stuck working late into the night with a boner while he’s flicking through candidate paperwork and flight logs.

Well, he’s thinking about it now, and he’s got the place all to himself. No locking himself in the bathroom and letting the shower run, trying to think of anything but the growing list of chores he has to do to keep this house functioning.

He swallows thickly.

He’ll tell the guys that they’re right. He needs to get back into the game; get his head on right, stop pining over his nanny. Tomorrow. For now, he lifts his hand and takes the underwear, smoothing the sheer mesh between his index and thumb. Closing his eyes, he hopes that you won’t notice they’re gone before he can return them.

He twists the cap off of an ice cold beer, leaves his boots neatly by the door and walks calmly upstairs. From there, he clicks his bedroom door shut and steadily takes himself out of his uniform, dropping it into his laundry hamper.

Finally, he settles down against his headboard with his phone in his hand and your panties in his lap.

Porn will make this better. It’s less weird if he’s not necessarily picturing your face. It’s not — but he might have a better chance at looking you in the eye later if he tells himself that.

Not that any of this feels exactly regular.

He inhales and shifts, and scrolls. Birds are still tweeting outside, singing early afternoon songs. His teeth nip at the inside of his cheek as he scrolls aimlessly until he finds a thumbnail that looks halfway doable.

All alone, the house feels especially quiet when the first moan spills from the speakers. He flinches at the sound and scrambles for the volume button, then hesitates. He doesn’t have to be quiet. He doesn’t even have to be ashamed. Shit, it’s a little late for that.

His brows knit together a bit, cocking his head as he examines the babbling girl on the phone screen. His hand stirs to life from where it had gone limp on his thigh, finding his cock through the grey fabric of his boxers. With one last cautious glance to his closed bedroom door, the silence beyond it confirms to him that he’s okay.

Wetting his lips with his tongue, he strokes himself over the material. The video isn’t particularly interesting, not when Bradley’s head can fill itself with far more interesting material at whim. His mind starts to wander back to that dream he’d had of you in the nurses outfit— that one had hit him hard, literally. He could barely look in your direction without getting hard for two days.

Soon enough, he’s hard and straining against the briefs. But that’s thinking about you, and that’s not allowed. He shifts restlessly and goes back to scrolling, palming himself absently. Finally, he comes across a video that sparks something. The thumbnail is of a girl with swollen lips and a cock in her mouth. It’ll do.

There we go. He huffs, that red-hot desperate feeling spreading down his neck and covering his shoulders. Making like it’s going to swallow him whole. Bradley lifts his hips to shuck down his boxers, tucking the waistband under his balls, still prepared for a hasty recovery at the sound of the garage door opening or something. He glances down at himself, remembering the days his thighs were narrower and more taut and he wasn’t noticing grey in his pubes.

If he wanted this done quick and fast, he’d spit hard into the centre of his palm and get to work. It’s been a long time since it hasn’t had to be quick. He thinks he has— he turns a bit and pulls open the drawer of his bedside table, rummaging blindly at the back until he comes up with what he’s looking for — lube. It’s practically full, not like he has been using it much.

A drop in the middle of his hand is enough, he figures. Turning his attention back to this new video, he settles, cupping the weight of his shaft in the palm of his hand. He gives it one slow pump, following the length, coating himself a bit. Real slow, his eyes study the screen, working the lubricant against his skin.

The actress bobs her mouth around the on-screen cock enthusiastically, moaning around him, raking her fingertips along his thighs. He locks his fist around himself, warm and tight, wet. It’s not a mouth but it’s the closest he has felt in a long time. If he closes his eyes, it could be your mouth.

You’d take him slowly, at first, ease him into it with that taunting nature you’ve let him glimpse at. He wouldn’t close his eyes; wouldn’t take ‘em off you. His hand steadies into a lazy rhythm, picturing the way you’d look up at him through your lashes.

The way you’d suck, and flick your tongue across his swollen tip. He shivers as he swipes his thumb through the precum beading there, stroking it all the way back down, stuck on imagining what it would feel like with your saliva joining the mix.

A pleased, feminine hum of approval comes from his phone and Bradley’s body responds just as eagerly, his hips twitching into the thrust of his palm. Sweat beads at his forehead as he slows to the point of almost stopping, dragging this out — making a point of exploiting his time alone.

He blinks hazily and finds a glimpse of blue, remembering suddenly the souvenir he had taken. The pitiful scrap of fabric he’s so wound up over sits against his thigh, looking suddenly small in comparison to his cock. He lets himself go and grabs hold of the fabric firmly, balling it tightly in his fist.

The soft lace bristles at his palm. Freshly laundered, they don’t smell of anything but detergent. It plays to the weaker side of him, gnawing at him, leaving him desperate to have something beyond what’s in his head. To know your smell, your tastes, your sounds. He shudders as he wraps a hand snugly around himself once more, this time, with an added layer of lace and soft mesh.

His head falls backwards, mouth hanging. Like this, it’s even easier to pretend. The image of you straddling his thighs, rocking your pussy against him while wearing nothing but these has him finally relaxed. Zen, even. A groan dies in his through, coming out more as a deep and baited sigh. He lift his hips, fucking into his fabric tangled fist.

Sometime between picking up your panties and now, the video has moved on without him, the blowjob forgotten. If he was to open his eyes, he would find that she’s on her back, being fucked into a mattress. He doesn’t need to. Stars burst behind his eyelids as he steadies up to the rhythm of her moans, skin hitting skin.

You’ve been living here four months now and you haven’t stayed out once. He wonders if you’re as wound up as he is. If you’ve thought about him the way he thinks of you. How downright desperate you’d sound moaning against his pillows while he finally gets to feel you. His left hand jumps, grabbing a firm fistful of the sheets beside him.

The shame he feels has been checked at the door, he lets himself think that you might have looked at him, that you might want him. He chases the feeling, his chest heaving with heavy breaths. Pumping the blue mesh around his cock, imagining you rocking yourself on him. Something gentler, more spry. It feels good. You’d feel good.

His imagination is better than he gave himself credit for.

His wrist twitches and he slows, feeling his thighs tighten as his heels press into his mattress for leverage. He chokes out a sound that he won’t admit is closer to a whimper than anything else, panting hard as he lets the rush ebb a bit. Pursing his lips, he draws out a slow exhale.

His mouth hangs open, eyes dipping to watch himself loosen up with the material, finding himself with just his bare palm once again. He takes the blue fabric in his left, opening it up and examining the dampened marks of his precum and the lube.

Just like that, he’s back in the guest room — your room — and you’re wearing that blue set. It’s dampened like this, but not because he has made a mess of it, not yet. Because you have. You’re soaking through it, looking up at him with that awe-struck look on your face. Your mouth open wide but this time there’s no red popsicle.

“Fuck.”

“Shit.” You whisper, catching the diaper bag that had almost fallen from your shoulder as you cradle the sleeping infant against your chest. Quiet as a mouse, you click open the front door and toe off your shoes.

She’s dead-weight in your arms, probably drooling on your shoulder. Her two older siblings will be causing all kinds of mischief and consuming sugar in all of its forms at their cousin’s birthday party for the next three hours. Given that the party lines up almost exactly with the fifteen-month-old’s nap routine, you figured you would take her home to rest so that you could get around to putting away that laundry you had started.

You’ve got a thousand things on your mind. A million things to do before Bradley gets home that evening. Truthfully, you’re a thousand miles away as you stroll upstairs and walk to the far end of the hall to the nursery. You lay her down and adjust the baby monitor, setting up her white noise machine routinely.

Her bedroom door clicks shut behind you and you take a moment to consider your priorities. Laundry takes precedence, even though you want so desperately to crawl into bed and sleep for an hour. You huff, groaning to yourself as you walk back downstairs to find the basket you had abandoned.

As you round the stairs and walk through the hallway, a choked sound spills from under the wood of Bradley’s door, something deep and breathless. Already halfway to the kitchen, you don’t hear a thing.

The video stopped a while ago but Bradley had stopped watching it even earlier. His head is thrown back and his lips are parted, his features creased in concentration as he chases his high. He thrusts into his fist, white-knuckling your panties with his free hand, his heart thundering in his chest. “God, fuck.”

He doesn’t have a clue that he isn’t alone anymore. He didn’t hear the minivan, he didn’t hear the front door. He doesn’t hear you rush back up the stairs with the hamper hiked against your hip.

He walked in on you. He stopped, and he stared. You were interrupted, so you can’t blame him for slamming the door shut. He’d missed, or ignored the signals since. The looks, the touches, staying up with him until your eyelids are so heavy that they’re barely open because he’s kind of an insomniac. Nothing. You’ve been beyond curious, desperate to know if he has been blowing you off on purpose or if he’s just clueless.

Clueless yourself, armed to put away freshly folded t-shirts, you grab the door handle and push it open. He works late, always. He’s rarely home before bedtime on work days. He told you this morning that he’d try not to wake you when he came in. And yet — there he is.

You get a glimpse of him before he registers the click of the door, before he spots you. Brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, his curls dampened and hugging his forehead. Sunlight catches on the beads of sweat as they trail his glistening middle, spilling across his strong, softened middle. Broad shoulders flexed, the veins in his right arm straining through the skin, fucking his palm.

He reacts quickly, but there’s little that can be done. His eyes spring open and his hand releases himself, his body flushing a deeper shade of red at once. Thighs spread, he doesn’t have much time to cover himself before the door whips shut again.

You press your back to the door, staring at the ceiling. On either sides of it, you each have a moment of silent consideration.

“… are you okay?” He asks weakly.

He gets a soft squeak of acknowledgement as an answer and starts to wonder how you’ll ever be able to talk to him again. God, he hopes you don’t quit. The kids love you, and you’re incredible, you make his life liveable. His mind races, trying to come up with some kind of way to fix what you just saw. Everyone masturbates, it’s normal, it’s healthy—

“Was— Was that my underwear?”

Shit, Bradley thinks, he’s done for. There’s no coming back from this. You’re going to tell every nanny in the state that he’s a creep and work is going to eat him alive while he tries to juggle three kids alone. He curses breathlessly, fixing his underwear to cover himself and pushing himself out of bed.

He’s stuck for a second, considering if it would be better to give you time or to go after you. His eyes widen as the door clicks again, and pushes slowly open.

Your eyes rake over him, standing tall at the foot of his bed in nothing but his boxer-briefs. Still, regrettably, balled into his left hand, is your underwear. Powder-blue. He follows your gaze and looks down at the fabric, cursing his own stupidity, wondering if it’s too late to drop them.

You wet your lips with your tongue as your gaze flickers across. He closes his eyes and wills it to go away — he had just been so close, so caught up in it. It’s still rock hard, straining against the grey fabric, dampened at the tip with a spot of precum.

All of those signals and efforts come to a head. After four months of pining, you can’t just wander downstairs like this never happened. Laundry can wait. “You want a hand?”

…

tags: @royal-sunflower @redbarn1995 @atarmychick007 @jessicab1991 @seitmai @bellaireland1981 @roosterbruiser @tenderly-hopeful-collection @bradshawsbaddie @tgmavericklover @cevansbaby-dove @lyn-js @mynameismckenziemae @perpetuelledaydreaming @diorrfairy @sparklehippie17 @heatherbabees @prettiewittie @forgiveliv @oleksiak-pettersson @illegalxhood @fantasticpeacestarfish @rockstxr-x @d0main-expansion @diorsmores @mydarlingrose @sticksticklettuxe @alrightyyaphrodite @bowchickawowowww @aquafairy777 @eternallyvenus @maxwell-era @devil-angel-winchester @roosterishot @rosiahills22 @literally-iconic @brinaaa10 @foggyturtleknightangel @a-serene-place-to-be @aragorn-02 @sunflowercharlie13

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