#that i’ve been wanting to get to for a while

[jamminvroomvroom]

let’s go ride.

LN x fem!reader

in which lando keeps getting frustrated and you wanna know why…

hiiiiii here u go! belated love day fic from me to you 💝 love u all, tysm for the love on my last few fics, i’ve had a lot going on lately so i’ve not had very much time to write but when the inspo hits….. shoutout to miss mcrae for dropping lando-coded bangers bc i literally cannot resist. might make a part 2 of all the times they get freaky in a car lmao, lemme know if you want that! likes, comments and reblogs are sooooo appreciated so lemme know what u think xoxox

proofed by my own personal goat @lavenderlando 💖

songs to set the vibes: sports car by tate mcrae, bad guy by billie eilish

warnings: 18+!! minors begone! smut, language, fluff, bit of angst bc lando’s in a mood, friends to lovers, p in v, porn without plot but there is a little bit of plot, bitchy lando

4.2k words

you sit in silence, opening spotify and preparing to fiddle with the bluetooth as he slips into the drivers seat beside you. the car door slams shut and he huffs, jawline taut with annoyance. the hood of his car is surrounded, a million and one cameras pointed at you both as he tries to relax into his chair. the engine roars to life and you side eye him.

“when are you gonna learn, hm?” you try and sound playful, teasing, but it comes out laced with a twang of scolding. lando tenses up even further, turning to glare at you.

“god forbid i go outside.” he snaps.

“give over.” you roll your eyes. “poor me, i’m famous! lando, you can’t get angry when you park in the most high profile spot on the fucking planet and your fans want to worship you.”

“you don’t know what you’re talking about.” he sighs, white knuckles wrapping tighter around the steering wheel.

“don’t i? this has been happening a lot lately.” your voice softens, ever so slightly. “every time i’m seen with you, you lash out.”

“because i don’t want people harassing you, looking at you like some fucking commodity.” lando snarls, steely eyes locked on the supposed car enthusiasts that are slowly backing away from his parking space.

“lando, we’re friends. this has always been a thing. why is it bothering you so much now?”

you wonder if it bothers him for the same reason it bothers you.

he shuts his eyes, collecting himself for a moment. he puts the car in drive and smoothly pulls out of the space, ignores your question. you scowl at him, at this sudden childishness that has overtaken his easygoing manner in the last few months.

“fine. whatever.” you mutter, slumping defeatedly into your seat. you give up on playing music, leaving him to bask in the silence, something he loathed.

lando had switched from his usual self to this stony, irate version of him that you rarely had the displeasure of seeing, from the second you walked out of the restaurant where you’d had lunch. he was reluctant to pose for photos and sign hats, something he usually revelled in, grateful that people even wanted to see him. the swathes of fans that had gathered had irked him for once, but what really boiled his blood was the photographers that seemed to find him no matter where he chose to spend him time. so much for monaco’s privacy laws.

it wasn’t like he cared about himself, either. it was you. the way they leered, leaned close to you while he was distracted with pens being shoved in his face. it was the way their eyes dipped low, whether you were in a tank top or a baggy hoodie. it was the way they spread the false, painful narrative all over the internet that you and lando were together, which drove hoards of losers into your comment section and your DMs just to call you names.

you were not together. as much as it pained him, you were just friends.

he couldn’t exactly explain his overprotectiveness to you without getting himself into a big, tangled mess. you, being the resilient, cool as a cucumber stoic that you were didn’t care what fourteen year olds on the internet thought about you. you weren’t about to let faceless, jobless trolls ruin the friendship that you’d nurtured for years, through ups and downs, thick and thin, race wins and huge losses. but lando, god, it killed him, tore him up inside every time someone so much as looked at you wrong.

“you really don’t get it.” he says, hushed, like he’s telling a secret. you turn to look at him, tearing your eyes away from the glistening view of the marina.

“lando, tell me then. make it make sense because i’ve never seen you behave like this. they love you! least you can do is lose the attitude over some harmless pictures.”

“jesus christ, it’s not the fans! it’s not the ‘harmless pictures’! it’s these fucking creeps that follow us around just to make some money off of my own personal hell. you really don’t get it, because if you did, you’d know that it breaks my fucking heart to see the way people talk about you online, just for being seen with me. it’s my fault that you get harassed, that paps are basically stalking you now.”

he signs of his rant with a sharp inhale, one that seems to suck all of the life out of the car. you melt.

“but lando, it doesn’t bother me. i just wanna be here with you, i don’t care about the rest of it.” you coo softly, reaching over the centre console to grip his forearm.

“and i want you here. i want you with me every fucking second of the day, but i can’t cope. can’t help thinking that one day it’ll all just be too much and you’ll leave me.” he whispers.

“never. never ever ever.” you promise. your belly swirls with emotions, tickled from the inside out by butterflies that threaten to swarm.

lando breathes shakily, warmed through by the hand that rests on his arm as he manoeuvres through the twisty lanes. as he hits traffic and slows, he clocks another photographer looming on the pavement, lens aimed at his windshield. already too annoyed, he aggressively smacks his sun visor down, leaning over the console to reach yours too, pulling it down. he prays it’s enough.

“you need to relax, lan. i’m fine, we’re fine. i promise.” you reassure, but he’s breathing heavily now. “you don’t worry this much when it’s max.” you trail off.

he doesn’t know what comes over him. he spins the car into a sharp u-turn, positively speeding back in the direction you’d just come from. any mention of you and him as a ‘we’ makes him crazy, makes him utterly lose his mind, but something about your sweet, earnest voice bringing him back to reality has left him completely shaken. the sun is setting now, most people clearing out of the underground car park he pulls into to head back to their homes. he has other intentions. you don’t say another word until he pulls into a space at the back of the lot, tucked neatly into a corner.

“what are we doing?”

“need a minute.” lando rasps, forehead resting on his steering wheel, the matte leather pushing his sharp curls back. you trail your eyes over him, the way his chest rises and falls under the sweatshirt he’s wearing, the way his thick fingers curl as his grip continues to tighten.

“i’m jealous. and i’m selfish. and i’m a complete fucking idiot.” lando says, steadily, like he’s reading the news.

“you’re… you’re jealous? of what?” you’re like a deer in headlights.

“of any other person that gets to lay their fucking eyes on you.”

“what are you saying?” you whisper. the air in the car goes still, frozen. you can’t breathe.

“i’m saying… that you’re mine. and i should have made that a known fact a long time ago.” ever so slowly he looks up at you, and you gasp at the intensity of his stare. he’s gazing at you with complete conviction in his eyes, a whole lot of vulnerability mixed in with the sincerity of his words. “i don’t want anyone else anywhere near you. lose my fucking mind watching the way they look at you.”

“lando…” you trail off, eyes as wide as saucers. is he really saying what you think he’s saying?

“i know this is terrible of me, to do this now, here - to do this at all, to be honest. i know that i have no right to stake some kind of claim on you, and i know that you probably don’t feel the same, but god, i just needed you to know. if you want me to shut the fuck up or leave you alone forever then i totally get it but-“

“oh my god, are you stupid?” you shake your head, still stuck in your state of disbelief, but you muster the coherency to grip the collar of his crewneck, tug him close.

your lips meet hastily, urgently, and every ounce to tension seems to seep out of the car. he moans at the very sensation of you against him, breath caught in his throat when you lace your finger through his hair like you want to mould your faces together, never stop. his brain finally catches up, awestruck as he is, and you trade passion and saliva, bumping noses as you clash chaotically.

“i think we’re both stupid.” he mumbles into your lips. you shut him up with another kiss, fiery and needy, and his hands begin to wander. he smoothes over the back of your jumper until he finds your waist, awkward in the limited space of the front of the car, and skims his hands up until he’s made his way beneath the material and he’s gripping your bare skin.

“too forward of me to ask you to get in the back?” lando pants with a cheeky smile.

“you literally just marked your territory on me, and nearly bit a photographer. i think we’re past ‘forward’.” you deadpan.

“then get in the fucking back.” he grins, devilish and commanding. you do as you’re told, wriggling between the leather until you’re propped up against the backseat. lando follows, sitting beside you, tugs you into his lap like you’re weightless.

you can feel him beneath you, hard and wanting, and you mewl, keen into him. your breaths mingle in the nonexistent space, lips brushing gently.

“this okay?” lando’s lips ghost over yours and you lean forward, just enough to reach him. he pulls back, eyes hooded, teasing, and tuts. “use your words.”

“who knew you were such a bossy boots.” you smirk. “more than okay.”

his eyes glaze over once he has your permission, and he kisses you like you’re the last supply of oxygen on earth. he licks into your mouth, wet and desperate and you whimper as he grazes over the crease of your thigh, toying with the hem of your skirt where it’s ridden up.

“can feel you.” lando groans, pulling away to look between your bodies. “so warm for me, you like seeing me all riled up?”

you nod coyly, lip caught between your teeth, and you swear you see his eyelashes flutter.

“what did i say about words?” lando composes himself enough to tease. you roll your eyes, but you can’t ignore the way heat rolls through your body.

“like when you get all bitchy.” you reply, rolling your hips once.

“bitchy?”

“mhm. always been so easy to toy with.” you whisper, leaning in to nose along the thickness of his neck. you drag your tongue up the vein there, feeling it pulse under your tongue. he smells like his cologne, so him, and it makes you even hotter.

“oh, so you’ve been playing with me?” he chokes out, eyes rolling back in his head at the marks you’re leaving.

“maybe a little.” you hum.

“you liked watching me get angry? pretending to be all sweet and clueless?” lando whispers, the words hanging heavy in the space between you. all you can manage in response is a mischievous smile that twists his tummy.

your hands trail under his sweatshirt, skating over the muscled ripples of his belly, ever so slightly dipping into the band of his sweats. his head lulls back, blindly holding you close while you worship him. he lets you, lets himself have this moment, thinking for so long that it would never come.

“waited so long,” your lips brush over the shell of his ear, tongue grazing the lobe. he descends into a mess of shivers. “needed you to break first. i knew you would.” you croon.

“you’ve been loving this, haven’t you?” lando starts, low and calculating. “bet you’ve been getting off on dressing like a whore for the cameras, watching me suffer.” he pieces together. your resolve cracks. “bad girl.”

the sense of control you’d briefly maintained shatters, a hand around your neck forcing you away from him, preventing your sweet torture. his fingers flex, just above your collarbone, and you swallow at the smirk that seems to engulf his entire face. he looks animalistic, crazed with a feral adoration that leaves you certain that you’re dripping all over his lap.

“i think you’ve had your fun, baby, it’s my turn.”

you whine when he drags you across his lap, back and forth until you’re squirming. his hips rut up into yours, fuelling your desire for every single inch of him.

“please, lando.” you breathe, reaching out to lace your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck.

“let me look at you.” he demands, shutting down your intentions for more. “i’ve waited long enough for this, don’t you think?”

“so have i.” you beg him with your eyes, but give in to him nonetheless. you’re staining his lap, grey sweats darkening as your wetness pools there and he can’t help but buck up into your warmth.

“wanna play with you, baby, see how you like it.” he taunts, bringing two fingers between your legs.

he brushes his knuckles over the obvious damp patch at the crotch of your panties, lip caught between his teeth at what he finds. your soaked through, and he pinches your bundle of nerves just to watch you thrash in his grip.

“i hate you right now.” you spit through gritted teeth, but your hips can’t help but chase his hand.

“doesn’t feel like it.” he kisses you quick, loving the way you lean in for more, but he relaxes against the seat and dips slowly beneath your underwear. “fuck.”

he doesn’t have to work too hard to spread your wetness around, you’re already lathered in it, but he continues to tease, fingers gliding over your clit and through your folds.

“please.” you beg, leaning back to give him as much access as possible.

“what do you want, baby? tell me.” he urges, drawing circles on the swollen bundle of nerves.

“your fingers.”

“you have them.” he barks out a condescending laugh, applying more pressure just to prove his point.

“need them inside of me.” you pant, eyes squeezing shut at his sadistic game between your thighs.

“that’s my girl.” he praises, and you curse, clamping down around him before he even gets the first knuckle inside of you.

“how are you doing this to me?” you think aloud, tears in your waterline already. it all feels far too good for a first time.

“because i know you better than you think i do.” he coos.

lando pulls you flush against him, grinding his fingers deep so that they curl deliciously against your sweet spot. his palm bumps your clit with every twist of digits and he nips over your collarbone. his tongue laves over your skin, tasting the perspiration that gathers as the car steams up around you. you’re suddenly hyper aware of your surroundings, huddled together in the back of his urus in a dimly lit car park. thank god you’d lost the photographers.

“can’t believe we’re doing this.” you gasp, feeling your tummy tighten at the thrill of it all, of feeling your best friend work to please you.

“i knew it would happen. knew that someday i’d get to see you like this, all for me.”

“all for you.” you repeat, drunk on him as you rode his fingers. “feels so good.”

“want you to come for me like this.” lando orders, replacing the heel of his hand with his thumb against your clit. his ministrations are more controlled like this, precise, and you throw your head back in pleasure. his teeth sink in to the base of your neck, sucking softly over the bruising skin, lapping at the mark to soothe it.

“i’m so close, lan.”* you choke, riding his fingers as you near your release.

“c’mon baby, make a mess for me.” he urges, eyes locked intensely on yours. you’re enticed by the sea green storm that swirls in his irises, shrinking as his pupils blow with lust. you can’t help it, can’t delay the inevitable, and you thrash in his arms, wildly bucking your hips against his as you fall apart.

you gush all over his lap, further ruining his sweatpants but he doesn’t bat an eyelid, working you through your orgasm until you’re spent. he’s transfixed by the way your thighs glisten, by the way your release seeps through the material covering his crotch and it makes him throb.

“that’s it baby.” he murmurs, voice low and smooth. you pant, collapsing forwards onto him.

“thank you.” you whisper into his neck, and he laughs softly.

“don’t thank me, silly girl.” he coos into your ear. you pull back just enough to kiss him, taking it slow, giving you a moment to come down from your devastatingly intense high. you’re exhausted, eyes fluttering shut from the exertion, and he tucks sweaty strands of your hair behind your ears. his fingers graze your warmed cheeks, noses bumping and you take him in, carefully studying the lines of his face, the sharp slope of his nose, the flutter of his eyelashes against those ridiculously high cheekbones.

“you’re so pretty.” your voice floats over him like a delicate caress, makes him shiver. he grins at you, enamoured.

“didn’t think our first time would be in the back of my car but i don’t think i can’t wait to get you home.”

“you’ve thought about this?” you ask, bashful. he gazes up at you sheepishly.

“every night before bed.” he jokes, and you shift your hips.

you’re overstimulated, but it does the trick, the playful haze shattering, replaced by thick, charged tension.

“you gonna make that fantasy a reality?”

“yeah. yeah, i am.” he mumbles.

his hands skim your waist, pushing your jumper up as he goes higher and higher, until it’s off, chucked into the footwell. you tear at his sweatshirt until it joins your discarded clothing and explore the bronzed planes of his chest, extra sun-kissed by the trip you’d taken to dubai just a few weeks before. if only you’d known then…

“hurry.” you plead, and he scoffs, adjusting you on his lap just enough to free himself from his sweatpants and boxers, and you gawk down at what’s revealed to you.

it’s big, thick, and you sigh in relief that he’d so thoroughly stretched you out, got you nice and slick for him already.

“gonna take it all for me?” lando taunts, catching your hanging jaw between two firm fingers, forcing you to look at him.

“gonna try.” you reason, breathing shakily as you rise up on your knees. you feel the head of his cock prodding your clit, the sodden tip running along your folds until it catches on your entrance. you both hiss as the contact, his hands steadying your hips.

“you can do it, baby.” lando promises, helps you begin your descent.

“oh my god.” you gasp, sinking down slowly. “dunno if i can take it, lan, you’re so- so…” you trail off, head thrown back far enough that you miss the way he’s smirking up at you.

“c’mon baby, being such a good girl for me, i know you can take it. just a little more.” he goads, pressing each button of your apparent praise kink, and you whine, soft moans tumbling from your lips. a sense of determination becomes you, and you’re aching to take him all the way.

you cry out his name when you’re pressed flush against him, and he soothes circles into your hips, holding you close against his chest. one hand smoothes through your hair, the lace of your bra scratching against his chest as you breathe rapidly.

“well done, baby, knew you could do it.” lando praises, trailing kisses over your face. you quiver in his hold, hips wiggling ever so slightly, and he takes that as a sign. “want me to do the work, hmm? make you feel so good?”

you nod lazily, looking up at him from where your face is smushed against his shoulder, and he lets you break his rule of “words”, softened by how beautiful you look, vulnerable in his strong arms. he starts to move, fucking up into you slowly, feeling you out. you can feel him twitch inside of you, his breath catching in his throat at the feeling of you, tight and warm, enveloped all around him. you roll your hips languidly, meeting his thrusts and you both moan out as the explosion of sensations unfolds between you.

“harder, lando. can take it.” you mumble, glazed over doe eyes looking into his. he tenses up, shaken to the very core by the emotional tether between you, feeling the way it grows even stronger. the one woman he’d wanted since he’d laid eyes on you, the one women he never thought he could have; his heart pounds violently in his chest.

he readjusts your hips, pushing you back so that you’re upright once more, eyes raking hungrily over your flushed body. your skirt is bunched around your waist, panties tugged to the side, cups of your bra barely covering anything anymore. he tweaks a nipple through the lace, paws at your tits until you’re fluttering around him. the cups of your bra are tugged down, resting below your breasts and he swallows hard.

“fuck me, you’re so beautiful.” lando rasps, leaning you back further to perfect the angle.

once he’s satisfied, he bounces you against him, meeting your hips with harsh thrusts, his pace unrelenting. he can see the way you pool around his base, dampening the thatching of hair that decorates his pelvic bone. you seem to chase the friction there, rutting your clit against him. sweet puffs of breath fill his ears, melodic combined with a symphony of your needy whines, continuously intensifying as he fucks you deeper and deeper.

“it’s so good.” you slur, mouth hanging open, totally unhinged from the raw pleasure that he courses through your veins.

“you’re doing so good for me, baby.” he wants to say more, but then he sees it, the way your lower belly seems to protrude with every roll of his hips. “oh, fuck.” he cries out.

“do you see that, baby? see how deep i am?” lando growls, voice rippling through your connected bodies. you glance down, and the first tears start to fall.

“oh my god.” you repeat, nothing else to say, totally braindead at the sight. your cheeks are wet with tear tracks, utterly overwhelmed by the way he’s taking you, so blissful that it hurts.

“you crying for me, baby? do i feel that good?” lando mocks, reinvigorated by the way your tears gather at your collarbone. his hand swipes messily against your throat, swiping them away, but you catch his hand, keeping it there. your eyes lock as your hand squeezes around his, a silent plea. he rocks up into you even harder, hand clamping around you neck slowly, leaving your breathless, liquid heat shooting down your spine. you can’t stop it from hitting you like a ton of bricks, can’t hold back, not when he’s making it hurt so fucking good.

“lando, i can’t- i’m gonna- fuck.” you bellow, falling to pieces around him. he keeps you propped up through your orgasm, plowing into your limp body until you’re so tight around him that he quite literally can’t keep going. he shudders, repeating your name like a godforsaken prayer as his abs flex beneath your shaky hands. you feel him filling you up, shots of warmth painting your insides.

lando lets you collapse into his arms, holding you tight as you both tremble in the silence of the car. condensation rolls down the windows, giving away your frenzied desires. if anyone caught sight of his car, it wouldn’t be hard to do the math.

“gonna let me take you home so we can do that again?” lando laughs, breathing you in. he can feel the way your chest rumbles softly in response, hears your angelic, raspy laugh.

“gimme a sec, don’t think i can move ever again.” you groan, sighing into his chest.

you stay there for a while, basking in it, coming down. he traces shapes into the bare skin of your back; you absentmindedly trace a heart into the window fog.

when you finally manage to redress, it’s dark outside, bright lights casting patterns into the calm midnight of the marina. he holds your hand as he drives up into the heights of monaco, and you stare at the way yours fits so perfectly with his, just like how your head tucked so perfectly into the crook of his neck. you smile out the window and lando smiles at you.

by the time bedtime rolls around, you’re both well and truly exhausted. when you try and wriggle out of his grip, ready to retreat back to the guest room like a wounded animal, lando pouts - pouts! - and holds you even tighter.

“silly girl.” he kisses the words into your hairline, and drifts off to sleep.

-

hehe

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taglist

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed! any tags that don’t work will be removed xo

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taglist cont. in reblogs. smooches

[cressidagrey]

The mysterious Mrs. Piastri

We are interrupting our regularly scheduled programming for a Valentine's Day Treat. Remember that video where Oscar was asked "Get married or get a tattoo?" Well, it showed up on my FYP and I was like..:WAIT

Summary: 

Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even. Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.

And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.

(divider thanks to @saradika-graphics )

Oscar Piastri had always been a calm, collected kind of guy. Unshakeable, even.

Lando Norris, on the other hand? Not so much.

And today? Today was the day Lando fully lost it.

It had started innocently enough, just another fan stage, just another round of questions.

“Oscar, would you rather get married or get a tattoo?”

Easy. Straightforward. Oscar barely had to think before responding, “Well, I already did one of those things.”

That was, apparently, the wrong thing to say.

Because one second later, Lando spat out his drink.

“YOU GOT A TATTOO?!”

Oscar turned, confused. “What? No.”

Lando, looking equal parts betrayed and horrified, pointed an accusing finger. “Mate, I’ve seen you in swim trunks. There’s no way you have a tattoo. Where is it?”

Oscar frowned. “I don’t have a tattoo.”

Lando’s face twisted in confusion. “But you just said—” He stopped. His eyes widened. Oscar could see the moment his brain caught up.

“WAIT. WAIT.” Lando practically jumped out of his seat. “YOU’RE MARRIED?!” Lando looked genuinely stunned, his mouth hanging open in shock. 

Oscar nodded, calm as ever. “Yeah.”

Lando’s reaction was not calm. Lando let out a strangled, guttural noise, kind of sounding like an indignant cat.

“WHAT?!”

The interviewer, who had been mostly observing up until now, leaned forward, eyes shining with the excitement of a woman who had just stumbled upon the biggest scoop of the season. “Okay, hold on. You mean married married? Like, legally?”

Oscar frowned. “Is there another kind?”

Lando’s hands were now on his head, his entire world seemingly crumbling around him. “SINCE WHEN?!”

Oscar shrugged. “A while now.”

The crowd lost it. The interviewer looked like Christmas had come early. The McLaren PR team, wherever they were, was probably having a collective heart attack.

Lando’s jaw dropped. “I DIDN’T EVEN KNOW YOU HAD A GIRLFRIEND.”

Oscar frowned. “You know that," he told Lando pointedly.

“I DO NOT KNOW THAT,” Lando shouted. “WHEN HAVE YOU EVER MENTIONED A GIRLFRIEND—LET ALONE A WIFE?!”

Oh well. Oscar just shrugged. “Well. I do. She’s amazing. 10/10. Would always marry her again.”

Lando let out a hysterical laugh. “Wait, wait, wait. No, no. You’re telling me you have a freaking WIFE?!”

The interviewer seized the moment. “Okay, no, we need details. How long have you been together?”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. "Since we were 15."

Lando made a strangled noise. “15?! YOU’VE BEEN WITH HER SINCE YOU WERE 15?!”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”

The interviewer looked delighted. “How did you meet?”

Oscar tilted his head. “School?”

Lando groaned and turned to the audience. “Look at this guy. Look at him. Of course he’s been secretly married this whole time. Of course.”

The interviewer pressed on. “When did you get married?”

Oscar shrugged. “When I was 18.”

The entire crowd erupted. Fans were screaming, phones were recording, and McLaren PR was definitely hyperventilating somewhere.

Lando, meanwhile, looked like his whole world had just collapsed in real-time.

“You—you got MARRIED at EIGHTEEN?!” he wheezed. “WHY?!”

Oscar looked at him like he was stupid.  “Because I wanted to? Because I love her?”

The interviewer cooed over the answer. Lando physically recoiled. “What, like straight out of high school?!”

Oscar frowned. “Not straight out of high school. We waited a bit.”

“HOW LONG IS A BIT?!” Lando demanded.

Oscar thought about it. “Like… three weeks after graduation?”

Lando let out a strangled noise. “THAT’S NOT A BIT, OSCAR. THAT’S BASICALLY IMMEDIATELY.”

Lando dramatically fell back in his chair. The interviewer, meanwhile, was nearly vibrating with excitement. “Okay, okay, follow-up question—how did you propose?”

Oscar thought about it. “I asked her to marry me.”

The interviewer stared. “…That’s it?”

Oscar nodded. “Yeah.”

Lando threw his hands in the air. “UNBELIEVABLE.”

The interviewer, trying desperately to salvage something remotely romantic, asked, “Where did you propose?”

Oscar, as if this were a perfectly reasonable answer, said, “Uh. At home?”

The interviewer looked at him. "...At home?"

"On the bed," Oscar added.

Lando looked like he was going to have an aneurysm.

The crowd groaned. The interviewer looked physically pained. Lando just laughed in disbelief. “I knew you’d be the most unromantic bastard alive.”

Oscar rolled his eyes. “She said yes.”

Lando wiped imaginary tears from his eyes. “That poor woman.”

The interviewer shook her head in awe. “Oscar, mate, I have to ask—how did you manage to keep this a secret for so long?”

Oscar blinked. “No one asked?”

Lando just screamed.

The interviewer, who had completely abandoned all pretense of professionalism, leaned forward. “Okay, wait, wait, who is she?”

Oscar blinked. “My wife?”

Lando threw up his hands. “YES, OBVIOUSLY, but who is she? What’s her name? Where’s she from? What does she do?”

Oscar's forehead creased. "Is that... relevant?"

The interviewer just about had a stroke. Lando looked like he was going to spontaneously combust.

The fans were losing their freaking minds.

Lando nearly fell out of his chair. “YOU’VE BEEN MARRIED FOR YEARS AND I’VE NEVER MET HER.”

“I mean, I thought it was obvious?”

“OBVIOUS TO WHO?!” Lando yelled. “BECAUSE IT WASN’T OBVIOUS TO ME.”

Oscar just shrugged. 

Lando groaned. “Mate, I DIDN’T KNOW SHE EXISTED!”

Lando looked like he was seconds from grabbing Oscar and shaking him until some kind of information fell out. "Okay, I can't believe I have to ask this, but why the hell didn't you tell me?”

"I thought you knew," Oscar answered simply.

Lando just gaped. "How on earth would I have known?"

Oscar shrugged. The interviewer, meanwhile, was leaning closer, clearly invested in the whole thing now.

Lando, apparently having had enough, decided on a different tactic. Lando pointed at him, eyes narrowing. “You’re not getting away with this. You are going to introduce me to your wife.”

Oscar sighed, clearly knowing a losing battle when he saw one. “Fine,” he said after a moment.

Lando sat back, satisfied. “Good.” Then he paused. “Wait—does anyone else know? Like, do the team know?”

Oscar shrugged. “I think Zak does.”

Lando made a strangled noise. “Why does Zak get to know?!”

Oscar pointed out, “Because he’s my boss?”

The interviewer, clearly having thrown all professionalism out the window, was just enjoying the chaos. Lando looked like he wanted to scream. “But I’m your friend!”

Somewhere in the background, McLaren PR was probably losing their minds, trying to figure out how to handle the fact that Oscar Piastri, their quiet, low-maintenance driver, had accidentally revealed he’d been married since he was 18.

Not Oscar’s problem, though...After he escaped Lando Norris' clutches.

He had a wife to call after all.

Oscar Piastri was a man of routine.

He liked predictability. Consistency. A life largely free of unnecessary chaos.

Which was exactly why, after the complete meltdown that was today’s fan stage, he had retreated to his driver’s room, shut the door, and pulled out his phone. If there was one thing in his life that wasn’t chaotic, it was his wife.

The call rang twice before she picked up.

“Hey, love,” she greeted, her face appearing on screen. She was sitting in their apartment, hair tied up, wearing one of his hoodies. 

Oscar felt himself relax immediately. “Hey.”

She smiled at him. “So, how was your day?”

Oscar sighed. “Lando found out we’re married.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Oh.” A pause. “He… didn’t know?”

Oscar shook his head. "I thought he did."

She let out a small laugh at that. "How the hell did you think he knew?"

Oscar shrugged. "I dunno. We've been married for, what, five years now? How could he not know?"

Her smile widened. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe because you're about as romantic as a cactus?"

Oscar let out a huff. "I can be romantic."

Before she could respond, there was a loud banging on the door, followed by—

“LET ME IN, PIASTRI!”

Oscar sighed through his nose. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

His wife bit her lip, clearly seconds away from laughing. “Is that…?”

“YOU HAVE EXACTLY THREE SECONDS BEFORE I BREAK THIS DOOR DOWN AND—”

Oscar hung his head. “Yes.”

She was laughing now, and he couldn’t even bring himself to be mad because it was an adorable sound.

The banging continued. “I CAN HEAR YOU IN THERE. STOP IGNORING ME, OSCAR.”

His wife bit her lip, clearly trying not to laugh. “You should probably let him in before he tries to break the door down.”

Oscar debated not letting him in, but realistically, Lando would either A) find a way in, or B) make this everyone else’s problem.

So, with a long-suffering sigh, he got up and opened the door.

Lando barreled in immediately, eyes wild.

“WHERE IS SHE?!?” he demanded. “I NEED TO SEE HER WITH MY OWN EYES.”

Oscar sighed, holding up the phone. “She’s on FaceTime, you absolute lunatic.”

Lando’s head whipped around, and he nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get to the couch. He pushed past Oscar with a huff, then stared, wide-eyed, at the phone.

Lando was silent. For once.

His wife was, bless her soul, doing her best to fight her laughter at the look on Lando’s face. “Hi,” she said. “You must be Lando.”

Lando just continued to gape.

Then, slowly, he pointed an accusatory finger at the screen. “You’re real.”

She laughed. “I hope so.”

Lando turned to Oscar, looking personally betrayed. “SHE’S REAL.”

Oscar sighed. “I know.”

Lando turned back to the phone. “And you married him? At eighteen?!?”

She smiled. “Yep.”

Lando reeled. “WHY?!”

She tilted her head. “Because I love him?”

Lando looked like his entire world had been completely shaken. “You love him,” he repeated, staring incredulously down at her.

Oscar rolled his eyes. “Oi, mate, why’s that so hard to believe?”

Lando just groaned in exasperation. “You do not understand how hard it is, being friends with a guy for literal years, and never knowing he had a girlfriend—let alone a WIFE.”

“Mate, I’m pretty sure that says more about you than me,” Oscar told him bluntly.

Lando shot him a glare. “Oh, and you’re what? Mister Emotional Intelligence? You’ve been hiding this for years!”

Oscar shrugged. “Never came up in conversation.”

Lando looked horrified. “Don’t put this on me!”

Oscar shrugged. “You never asked.”

Lando flopped onto the couch, rubbing his face. “Unbelievable.”

His wife stifled a laugh, the corners of her mouth tugging upward as she watched Lando in his current state.

Lando, meanwhile, had moved to the “trying to wrap his head around this situation” portion of his breakdown.

“Okay, no. We’re fixing this. Immediately.”

Oscar sighed. “Lando—”

Lando pointed at the phone. “I need to meet her.”

Oscar sighed. “Fine. Silverstone.”

Lando gasped. “Really?!?”

Oscar deadpanned. “No, I just said it for fun.”

Lando turned back to the phone. “Mrs. Piastri, I will see you at Silverstone.”

She laughed. “Looking forward to it.”

Lando nodded firmly, then turned back to Oscar. “I will be grilling you for details later.”

Oscar sighed. “Of course you will.”

Lando stood dramatically. “Good. Carry on.” And then he walked out like he had just personally fixed the situation.

Oscar turned back to his wife, who was fully laughing.

“I love Lando,” she said. “This is the best thing that’s ever happened.”

Oscar sighed. “I regret everything.”

She smirked. “Love you.”

Oscar huffed. “Yeah, yeah. Love you too.”

And somewhere, in the distance, Lando was plotting.

****

@/oscarpiastri ✅

Posted: 1 day ago

Caption:

So, the internet (and, more importantly, Lando) just found out I’m married.

To be honest, I didn’t think it was a secret. I’ve been married for years. I assumed people knew. Turns out, I was very, very wrong.

Yes, I’m married. Have been for five years this summer.

So, meet my wife—my best friend, my favorite person in the world, and the only one who has somehow put up with me for this long.

We met when we were 15. Two kids at boarding school, thrown together by pure chance. The only open seat in class was next to me, so she took it. I stole a pen from her once—completely by accident—but she still let me borrow her pens after that. Eventually, she started carrying a second one just for me. I told myself that meant something.

She always knew when I was having a bad day, even when I hadn’t said a word. She made school bearable, made exams feel less stressful, made me laugh even when all I wanted to do was complain. Somewhere between stolen lunch breaks and long walks back to the dorms, between late-night study sessions and whispered conversations about the future, I fell in love with her. Quietly, all at once and over time. I knew by the time we were 15—maybe even before then.

She was my best friend first. The person I trusted most. The one who understood the parts of my life that didn’t always make sense to everyone else. By the time I worked up the nerve to tell her how I felt, she just smiled and said, ‘I was wondering when you’d figure that out.’ Like she had known all along.

When I left school to chase this ridiculous dream, she didn’t ask me to stay. She just told me she’d be there, no matter how far I went. And she was. Through every win, every loss, every moment of self-doubt.

So when we turned 18, we didn’t wait. Three weeks after graduation, we walked into a registry office in London, signed a piece of paper, and walked out married. No grand ceremony, no expensive dress. Just us, two rings we picked out in under twenty minutes, and a promise we already knew we’d keep.

We told our families afterward. Some took it better than others.

I know getting married at 18 sounds a little mad. People told us we were too young, that we should wait, that we were being reckless. But why? I had no doubt in my mind then, and I have none now.

She’s still the first person I call after every race, no matter the result. She’s the one who tells me to go to bed when I’m up too late on the sim, who reminds me to eat when I forget, who talks me down when I start overthinking. She’s been with me through everything. Through junior categories to F1, through every high and every low, through the moments I wanted to quit and the ones where I felt like I was on top of the world.

She’s my best friend, my greatest love, the only person who can call me out on my nonsense and get away with it.

So, no, I don’t have a tattoo. But I do have a wife. The person who still looks at me like I’m just that 15-year-old kid stealing a pen and falling in love before he even realizes it’s happening.

I have no idea how I convinced her to marry me, but I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat.

10/10, would always marry her again. ❤️

Comments:

@/landonorris: FIVE YEARS??? YOU HAVE BEEN MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS???

↪️ @/oscarpiastri: I assumed you knew. ↪️ @/landonorris: WHEN HAVE YOU EVER MENTIONED HAVING A WIFE???

↪️ @/mrspiastri: He does this thing where he forgets people don’t just know things.

@/danielricciardo: High school sweethearts. Eloped at 18. Best plot twist of the season.

@/mclaren: We have so many questions.↪️ @mrspiastri: Submit them in an organized document, I’ll answer the best ones.

@/f1updates: Today in ‘Oscar Piastri casually drops life-changing information’—he has a whole wife. Lando learned this at the same time as the rest of us.

@/lanoscult: Not Lando finding out with the fans and having a full existential crisis on stage 💀💀💀

@/thef1editz: POV: You just found out your best friend has been MARRIED FOR YEARS and never told you (attached video of Lando’s reaction with dramatic music)

@/wagsf1: WE NEED A FULL BOARDING SCHOOL LOVE STORY IMMEDIATELY.

@/f1tea: No thoughts, just Lando yelling ‘WHO GETS MARRIED AT 18’ like he was personally betrayed.

@/padlockthegrid: We’ve been watching this man for YEARS and never once suspected a wife??

@/georgerussell63: I feel like this is something you announce at a dinner, not in front of an audience.

↪️ @/oscarpiastri: I thought I had mentioned it. ↪️ @/landonorris: YOU DID NOT.

@/charles_leclerc: This is the greatest plot twist in F1 history.

@/fernandoalo_oficial: I respect this level of secrecy.

@/chaoticneutralf1: Oscar Piastri is terrifying. He just DOES things and assumes people KNOW.

@/mclaren: Oscar, any other life-altering facts you’ve forgotten to mention? ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Not that I can think of. ↪️ @/landonorris: I REFUSE TO BELIEVE THAT.

@/mrspiastri: 10/10, would marry him again. (Even if he forgets to tell people.) ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Love you too. ❤️

@/danielricciardo: Oscar, mate, do you have any other shocking secrets? ↪️ @/oscarpiastri: Not really. ↪️ @/landonorris: I AM NOT CONVINCED.

@/chaoticgrid: I will think about this every day for the rest of my life.

@/mrspiastri

Posted: 2h ago

Caption:

"So. Yesterday happened.

Since Oscar apparently forgot that telling people you’re married is something you actually have to do, I’ve spent the last 24 hours watching the internet lose its collective mind. You guys have questions. Lots of them. So, let’s go:

1. Wait… Oscar is MARRIED?!

Yes. Since we were 18. I know, I know. We should have made a big announcement. Or at the very least told his teammate. Oops.

2. When did you get married?!Right after we graduated. We were 18, ran off to London, signed a piece of paper, and then told our families. In hindsight, we probably should have done that last part beforehand, but hey, we were young and in love (and slightly impulsive).

3. Why so young?Because we were sure. It wasn’t impulsive—it was inevitable. People told us we were crazy, that we should wait, that we’d change. But we didn’t. We grew up together, and we only ever grew toward each other. If I had to choose again, I’d do it exactly the same way.

3. How did you two meet?We were 15, stuck at boarding school, and Oscar stole my pen. He swears it was an accident. I maintain that it was the moment he decided to make me fall in love with him.

5. Did you really not tell Lando?I thought he knew! Everyone close to us does! I assumed Oscar had mentioned it at some point, but, well… you all saw what happened. Apparently, Oscar’s ‘private life’ policy extended to his teammate of three years. Which is why we all got to witness his public breakdown in real-time.

5. Does this mean you’re an F1 WAG?Technically? Yes. Do I have the outfit coordination and expensive handbag collection to back it up? No. I do steal Oscar’s team hoodies, so that counts, right?

6. What’s your favorite thing about Oscar?The way he loves—quietly, steadily, with his whole heart. He still waits up for me if I’m out late, still kisses my forehead when he thinks I’m asleep, still tucks handwritten notes into his race gloves like he did back when he was karting. I’ve loved him for so long that I can’t imagine my life any other way.

7. And since Oscar said ‘10/10 would always marry her again,’ what’s your answer? 10/10. No regrets, no hesitation, no doubt. I’d marry him a thousand times over.

Comments: 

@/landonorris: I’M STILL NOT OVER THIS. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: I’m never going to live this down, am I? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. But I love you anyway.

@/danielricciardo: This is the kind of romance novel material I expect from an F1 WAG.

@/mclaren: We demand a Netflix special on this.

@/wagsf1: This is the cutest thing we’ve ever seen. Please post more.

@/f1updates: The way she said ‘10/10’ like it was the easiest question ever 😭💖

@/wagsf1: He still tucks handwritten notes into his race gloves??? I’M GONNA CRY.

@/f1updates: This woman just broke the internet by being casually, devastatingly in love.

@/f1fangirl92: The way this man has been secretly in love since he was FIFTEEN is actually lethal.”

@/fanaccountoscarpiastri: So what I’m getting is that Oscar is out here winning races and marriage. I respect it.

@/paddockinsider: Be so honest. What did people say when they found out you guys eloped? @/mrspiastri: Oh, everyone thought we were insane. Random people who barely knew us were convinced we’d crash and burn. Now we get a lot of, ‘Wow, you guys really made it work.’ ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Wasn’t hard.

@/f1obsessed: Did you guys ever break up? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. Not once. Not even a ‘we were on a break’ situation. We’ve been together since we were 15, which is wild when I think about it.

@/fanofeverything: Why did Oscar keep it a secret??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: It wasn’t a secret so much as… he never felt the need to bring it up? It’s not like he was hiding me in a basement somewhere lol. He just doesn’t talk about personal stuff unless someone asks directly. Which, apparently, no one did.

@/gridgossip: So who knew? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark. Andrea. Probably Zak? Our families, obviously. And, um. That might be it?

@/paddockinsider: Did Oscar just assume that everyone knew you guys were married? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. 100%. This man did not think to mention it because he thought it was ‘obvious. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: “OBVIOUS TO WHO??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: To him. He just figured if someone asked if he was married, he’d say yes. But since no one did, he saw no need to bring it up. ↪️@/landonorris: HOW IS THAT YOUR LOGIC. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: No one asked. ↪️@/landonorris: I’M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND.

@/f1insider: We need more details about Mark Webber finding out. ↪️@/mrspiastri: I swear I saw his soul leave his body. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, EXPLAIN YOURSELF. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Didn’t seem necessary to tell him at the time ↪️@/landonorris: “HOW IS MARRIAGE NOT NECESSARY INFORMATION???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark Webber sat Oscar down like a disappointed dad and was like, ‘Mate. How do you just… forget to mention you’re married? ↪️@/mclarenupdates: “And what did Oscar say??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: “He just shrugged and went, ‘Not really relevant to racing. ↪️@/landonorris: “I NEED TO LIE DOWN.”

@/paddockdrama: People always joke that Oscar is a robot. Does that ever bother him? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. I once asked him and he just shrugged and went ‘Doesn’t bother me. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone as long as you know how much I love you.’ ↪️@/landonorris: NO BECAUSE WHERE WAS THIS ENERGY WHEN I TOLD HIM I GOT P2 AND HE JUST WENT ‘NICE’??? ↪️@/oscarpiastri: It was nice.

@/paddockgossip: “Did ANY other drivers know???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar’s Prema teammates figured it out. The rest of the grid? Oblivious. ↪️@/landonorris: How did Oscar never accidentally spill?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He doesn’t overshare. Meanwhile, I am still in awe that he just assumed people knew.

@/foreverf1: Wait, I need to know—who said ‘I love you’ first? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar did. Completely out of nowhere, too. We were 16, lying on the floor doing homework, and he just looked over and went, ‘Oh. I love you.’ Like he just realized it in real time.

@/f1teaqueen: Okay but like… NO COLD FEET?? Not even a little?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. We were 100% sure.

@/wildforwags: Who actually officiated your wedding?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Some very lovely lady at a London registry office. She called us ‘sweethearts’ and I think she knew we were completely insane, but she was very supportive about it.

@/racewifematerial: What did you wear?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: A white sundress I bought the week before. Oscar wore a suit that was slightly too big because he borrowed it last-minute. We looked like two teenagers who ran away from home, which, to be fair… we kinda did.

@/formula1fangirl: Who took the wedding photos? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We handed a disposable camera to two very confused tourists outside the registry office. They did a great job.

@/landoandchaos: Oscar, babe, how did you manage to keep this from your friend for FIVE YEARS? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Listen, Oscar is elite at two things: racing and not offering information unless directly asked.

@/mclarenfanatic: Did he really think Lando knew? ↪️@/mrspiastri: 100%. I asked him and he was like, ‘Well, I didn’t HIDE it?’ And I was like, ‘Oscar. That is not the same thing as telling people.’

@/fastandflawless: Be honest, did you ever have a moment of ‘Oh my god, I married an 18-year-old racing driver, what have I done’?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really? I mean, other people definitely thought we were nuts, but we knew exactly what we were doing. The real crisis moment was a few months later when I realized I’d have to file taxes as a married person.

@/waggossip: “Did Oscar have a big, romantic proposal, or was it just like, ‘Wanna get married?’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar woke up one morning, looked at me, and said, ‘We should get married. Logically, it makes sense.’ ↪️@/f1softies: YOU’RE JOKING. ↪️@/mrspiastri: I was like, ‘Okay?’ And he said, ‘Great, I’ll book an appointment.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: So let me get this straight. No knee. No ring. Just ‘We should get married.’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: Correct. ↪️@/f1wifeguys: And you weren’t even a little mad?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nah, I thought it was funny. If he’d done some big, dramatic proposal, I’d have thought he was concussed. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Please tell me he at least got a ring after that. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He did! We picked one out together. It has both our birthstones.

@/paddocktea: Okay, but does he ever get super romantic out of nowhere?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, absolutely. Once, when I was really stressed out, he just looked at me and said, ‘You don’t have to do everything alone. I’m always going to be here.’ ↪️@/f1wifeguys: STOP THAT’S SO SWEET.

@/paddockinsider: What’s the most uncharacteristically romantic thing he’s ever said? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We were lying in bed once, just scrolling on our phones, and out of nowhere he goes, ‘You know, no matter how my life turned out, I think I would’ve found you in every version of it.’ And then he just went back to reading about Formula 2 tire degradation like he hadn’t just ruined me.

@/backmarkerbrigade: “So, like, what did you do after you got married? Fancy dinner? Celebratory champagne?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: ...Sandwichs at Pret-a-manger

@/gridlove: What’s the most Oscar Piastri way he’s ever told you he loves you? ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time he texted me ‘You’re my favorite human’ completely out of the blue. No context. No follow-up. Just that. It was adorable.

@/pitlaneprincess: Who cried more at the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Me. Oscar was annoyingly composed. He did squeeze my hand really tight when we said our vows, though.

@/drsforlove: “This man has been giving post-race interviews like ‘Yeah, good race, car felt good’ and then just casually drops a wife like it’s a tire strategy.

@/wildforwags: What’s something you wish you had done for the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly, nothing. It was chaotic, but it was ours.

@/pitstopqueen: What was your first impression of Oscar? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly? I thought he was too quiet. Then he made some dry, sarcastic comment under his breath in class, and I immediately knew we’d get along.

@/tracksidegossip: How long did you actually plan the wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: A week. And ‘plan’ is a generous term. We just Googled how to get married in London, booked the appointment, and that was that.

@/f1chaos: Oscar, be so honest, did you really think people would just ‘figure it out’ without you ever saying anything?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. Yes, he did.

@/paddockprincess: Wait, so how did Oscar’s family react to you guys getting married so young? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Honestly? They were really supportive. His mum just went, ‘That makes sense,’ and his dad laughed. Oscar’s family has always been the ‘if you’re happy, we’re happy’ type. ↪️@/oscarpiastriupdates: “So no dramatic reactions from the Piastris??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: “The most dramatic reaction was his mum sighing and saying, ‘You two are hopeless.’ But she meant it fondly.”

@/chaosinthepaddock: What about your family? 👀 ↪️@/mrspiastri: Ah. Well. See, they did not get over it in five minutes. ↪️@/f1tea: Omg. HOW mad were they??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Very. Like, ‘multiple angry phone calls’ mad. Like, ‘we refuse to speak to you for years’ mad.” ↪️@/landonorris: Did they actually say you were ruining your life? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, yes. There was a lot of dramatic ‘you’re throwing your future away’ speeches. Which was funny, because my future was literally the same, just with more love and an Australian husband. ↪️@/piastrination: Did Oscar ever try to talk to them about it? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, he tried. But Oscar is Oscar, so he just very calmly said, ‘I love her, we’re married, and that’s not changing.’ Which, surprisingly, did not make them less angry. ↪️@/f1gossip: Have they come around since then? ↪️@/mrspiastri: No.

@/landonorris: Lando’s reaction when he found out vs. your family’s reaction when they found out—who had the bigger meltdown?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, my family by far. Lando was just confused—my relatives were furious.

@/gridgirlgossip: Oscar Piastri, the man who quietly eloped at 18, dealt with family drama, and then just went racing like nothing happened.

@/drsdiva: “This is the wildest reveal in F1 history. Netflix, do your job.”

@/f1softies: “The fact that Oscar has been in wife guy mode for YEARS and we had no idea.”

@/lando4lyf: Lando: ‘YOU GOT A TATTOO?!’ Oscar: ‘No, I’m married.’ Lando: internal system crash

@/piastriupdates: “Lando Norris finding out live on stage that his teammate has been MARRIED FOR FIVE YEARS is the funniest thing to ever happen in F1.

@/f1memesdaily: “Oscar Piastri eloped at 18, never told anyone, and assumed people would figure it out while Lando was out here thinking he was a single man. I respect the commitment to quiet chaos.”

@/danielricciardo: Mate. You were MARRIED this whole time?? I thought you were just too focused on racing to date anyone, and instead you were out here with a whole WIFE???

@/charles_leclerc: You were married at 18? And Oscar thought that was a normal thing to do?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. Yes, he did.

@/alex_albon: Tbh, I respect it. Absolute power move. Eloping at 18, casually keeping it a secret, and then just dropping it on Lando like that?? Unreal. ↪️@/mrspiastri: See? Alex gets it.

@/robertschwartzman: Oh, now everyone suddenly cares. Meanwhile, WE KNEW THE WHOLE TIME. ↪️@/mrspiastri: To be fair, you two were basically forced to know. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: Yeah, because he wouldn’t shut up about you. ‘Oh, I can’t come to dinner, I have to call my wife.’ ‘Oh, I’m flying to London to see my wife.’ Mate, we were 19, and you were out here married like a 40-year-old. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He still does that, btw. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: Not surprised. The man has been whipped since day one.

@/jehannadaruvala: “The funniest part was watching Oscar just assume we all knew. Like we’d be talking about normal 19-year-old things, and he’d casually drop, ‘Yeah, my wife said the same thing.’ ↪️@/mrspiastri: And did any of you ever ask for clarification? ↪️@/jehannadaruvala: Oh, we asked. His response? ‘What about it?’ LIKE SIR. ↪️@/robertschwartzman: “One time, I straight-up said, ‘Mate, do you realize you’re married?’ and he just blinked at me and said, ‘Yeah.’ As if that was a totally normal thing for a teenage racing driver. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Sounds about right. ↪️@/ollicaldwell: “Honestly, we stopped questioning it after a while. He was just so chill about it. ↪️@/arthur_leclerc: Yeah, it was like, ‘Oh, Oscar’s in a committed marriage while we’re all just trying to survive? Cool, cool.’

@/f1softies: Okay but does he ever have romantic moments?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oh, absolutely. They just happen out of nowhere and leave me emotionally ruined. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Example, please. ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time, I was having a bad day, and he just looked at me and said, ‘You know, the best part of my life is that I get to love you.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: EXCUSE ME SIR??? ↪️@/landonorris: “WHAT THE HELL.”

@/f1updates: So you eloped… but do you think you’ll ever have a big wedding? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. Oscar and I don’t love being the center of attention, so a big wedding never appealed to us. ↪️@/landonorris: THEN CAN I HAVE A BIG PARTY ON YOUR BEHALF??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We literally just had a wedding reveal by accident and you want to throw an even bigger event??? ↪️@/landonorris: YES.

@/f1insider: So how did Mark find out?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: We didn’t tell him. He found out when Oscar referred to me as his wife in conversation. ↪️@/mrspiastri: We were in a meeting. Mark stopped mid-sentence and went, ‘Your WHAT?’ ↪️@/landonorris: HIS WORLDVIEW SHATTERED. @/mrspiastri: Oscar, completely unbothered, said, ‘Oh. Yeah. We got married a while ago.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: I CAN HEAR MARK WEBBER’S EXASPERATION. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mark didn’t speak for a full minute. Then he sighed, rubbed his temples, and went, ‘Mate. You can’t just drop that into conversation like it’s nothing.’ ↪️@/oscarpiastri: I didn’t see the problem. ↪️@/landonorris: YOU WOULDN’T. ↪️@/f1updates: Does Mark ever bring it up now? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Every single time we see him. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: It’s been years. He should let it go. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Finally he just said, ‘Yeah, I should have figured.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: EXCUSE ME???” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Apparently, Oscar was too relaxed for someone hiding a major life decision. Mark said he’d seen too many drivers try to balance racing and relationships, and he knew Oscar had already locked it down. ‘Kid’s too stable for anything else.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: That’s actually terrifying. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Immediately after he went ‘Alright. Suppose we better make sure this doesn’t derail your career then.’ ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Classic Webber. ↪️@/mclarenupdates: Did he at least congratulate you? ↪️@mrspiastri: Yes. Eventually. But only after making sure we’d thought it through. ↪️@/f1softies: Did he give you a lecture?” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Not really. More like a ‘If you’re doing this, do it properly’ talk.

@/drsfordays: The fact that her family was furious while Mark Webber just sighed is sending me.

@/oscarpiastri_fanclub: So Mark Webber has known this whole time??” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. And I think he’s still mildly offended that Oscar didn’t ask for any advice beforehand.

@/f1updates: Why doesn’t Oscar wear a wedding ring? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He does! He just doesn’t wear it when driving. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Okay but I have never seen this man wear a ring in my life. ↪️@/mrspiastri: He wears it in the off-season. Also, fun fact: he has a silicone one for training that he keeps losing.

@/f1updates: Oscar is so calm and logical on track. Is he the same at home? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Mostly, yeah. But sometimes, out of nowhere, he’ll just say the most devastatingly romantic thing. ↪️@/f1softies: EXAMPLES PLEASE. ↪️@/mrspiastri: One time, I joked, ‘You’re stuck with me forever,’ and he just looked at me, completely serious, and said, ‘That was the goal.’

@/f1updates: Do you ever wish you dated other people before settling down? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Nope. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: Not even a little? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Why would I? I already found my person.

@/f1updates: Serious question—why don’t you ever go to races?? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Anxiety. And I like my privacy. Nobody needs to see my terrified facial expressions. ↪️@/f1memes: You really married a professional racing driver and said no thanks to the circus.” ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yep. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: And Oscar’s fine with that??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He knew what he was signing up for.

@/landonorris: So I still haven’t met you because??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Because you are chaos incarnate and I am scared. ↪️@/landonorris: I AM DELIGHTFUL. ↪️@/mrspiastri: Oscar tells me otherwise. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, SAY IT AIN’T SO. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: No comment.

@/mclarenmemes: So you just send him off to work and watch from home like it’s the Super Bowl? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Yes. ↪️@/f1memes: AND HE’S FINE WITH THAT??? ↪️@/mrspiastri: He comes home, I feed him, we watch race replays together, and he tells me all the paddock gossip. We have an excellent system. ↪️@/f1updates: Oscar, confirm or deny? ↪️@/oscarpiastri: Confirmed.

@/f1updates: So, will we ever see you at a race? ↪️@/mrspiastri: Maybe. One day. ↪️@/mclarenmemes: OSCAR, MAKE HER COME TO ONE. ↪️@/oscarpiastri: She does whatever she wants. I learned that a long time ago.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

★ matt loves talking you through it ★

“there’s my good girl.”

matt’s sweet voice filled the air in his bedroom as he stared down at you from where he was propped on his elbow next to you, eyes locked on your face while his fingers moved inside you.

you were fully naked on his bed, legs spread wide for him to have easy access to your drooling pussy. he loved the way you surrendered your body to him, letting him have full access to you whenever he wanted, knowing he’d do everything he could just to see your pretty face twisted up in pleasure.

matt’s two middle fingers slid in and out of you languidly as to drag out the feeling as opposed to rushing it and getting you off as quickly as possible. matt liked to take his time, liked to listen to you for as long as you’d let him until you got too antsy and were begging him to make you cum.

“does it feel good?” he asked you in almost a coo, smiling when your head nodded quickly. your eyes were clenched shut and your hands gripped at the sheets beneath you, the only sound leaving your lips being a trail of whimpers with every exhale. “use your words, baby. you don’t want me to stop, do you?”

“don’t stop,” you rasp out instantly, reaching one of your hands up to grab onto his shirt. you turn your head to face him and open your eyes as much as you can, locking onto his bright blue ones that were already on you. “please don’t stop, feels so good.”

“hmm, I dunno, i’m not convinced,” matt hums, slowing the movement of his fingers. “no!” you cry, grinding your hips down onto the digits buried deep inside you. “please, daddy, need to cum.”

“that’s better,” matt grins at your desperation, feeling his stomach coil at the way your pretty voice begged him to continue. the sound of you pleading for him to do absolutely anything was something he could listen to forever.

he picked up the pace of his fingers again, drinking in the way your moans picked back up. “you’re doing so well, baby, sound so pretty.” matt lets his gaze wander to where your bodies connect, listening to the sound of your pussy squelching every time his fingers drew in and out of you.

“fuuuck,” he groans hungrily. “she’s so wet for me, baby. you love my fingers inside of you this much?”

your eyelids have fluttered shut again, unable to stay open as your tummy started to tighten and your toes began to curl. “come on, angel, you know better. answer me.” matt’s voice makes you groan, the deep tone he adopts sending a shiver down your spine.

“y-yes, I love your fingers!” you cry out, back arching as his thumb moved to rub on your clit, sliding around the nub in circles easily from how soaked you were. “love a-anything you give me, daddy, thank you.”

“good girl,” matt croons. “you wanna cum for me, baby? you’re so close, pretty girl, can feel you squeezin’ my fingers so tight. all y’gotta do is ask and i’ll get you there.”

you let out a loud string of whines as you nodded your head again, knowing he wanted to hear you speak but staying quiet since you loved the way he demanded it from you.

matt fully removed his fingers from you and brought his hand up to your face, gripping your jaw and forcing you to look at him. your eyes cracked open once more to see him staring down at you expectantly, knowing you knew better.

his fingers spread your wetness on your jaw and chin as he gripped onto you tightly, fingers so close you could smell the scent of pure arousal filling your senses. “please make me cum,” you whimpered out, parting your lips slightly as his thumb dragged over them. “please, daddy, i’ve been so good.”

matt grins at your request and slips his thumb into your mouth for a moment before moving his hand back between your legs, dragging the pads of his fingers over your clit gently. “always gotta give my girl what she wants, hm?”

after he speaks, he slips his fingers back inside you and fucks them in and out at a pace faster than before, ripping loud moans out of your parted, pouty lips, your back arching off of the bed.

“go ahead, baby, I got you. wanna feel you cum around my fingers. that’s my pretty girl, let go for me, yeah? there you go.” matt’s voice spoke softly in your ear as his words tipped you over the edge, your orgasm crashing over you intensely, legs slamming shut around matt’s wrist.

“fuck!” you shriek, body trembling from the climax that wracked through you, his fingers inside you still coaxing out the remnants.

matt’s face ducked down to press gentle kisses into your jaw as you tried to catch your breath, chest rising and falling quickly. “good job,” he praises quietly, sliding his fingers out of you so he could drag his hand up your stomach, once again spreading your fluids on your skin. “love making you cum like that, watching you fall apart from my fingers. so fucking pretty.”

you let out a small sigh mixed with a whine at his words, turning your face to meet his lips with your own. he kisses you back sweetly, pulling away after a few seconds to let you keep catching your breath.

“thanks, daddy,” you say in a teasing voice and matt can’t help but laugh, though he shakes his head and pushes himself down the bed slowly. “gonna eat you out til you’re crying now, okay?”

you were never one to refuse.

dedicated to @strnilolover

[ultramaga]

Rich doesn't mean much. I'll give an example. If a middle class Westerner travels, they find they are considered a target in most places, because - compared to the people elsewhere - they are rich. Growing up, I had relatives that had computers, that would get a decent stereo system, that had caviar a few times a year and they would travel overseas on holidays. That seemed insanely wealthy to me. They travelled to Beverly Hills at one stage, just to look around, only to be picked up by the police immediately. Why? Because compared to the locals, they looked poor.

I think it was Rupert Murdoch who was in a lift with a billionaire who was boasting about gambling while they were in Las Vegas. Murdoch offered to wager a billion dollars on something. The other man declined. A billionaire is wealthy but is nothing compared to the people who are at the top. And even then it could be argued that there are higher elites, since there are men and women who can order the billionaires of their country to give them their property and assets and kneel on the chopping board. Xi, in China, is an absolute dictator not seen since Mao. If he wants anything you have, it is his.

I don't know if there's any level of wealth where you don't worry. Rich people can and are embezzled or just robbed, to the point of poverty. And you can become a prime candidate for kidnapping. I knew a woman who had been rich all her life, but lost everything because an accountant her family had always trusted had quietly moved everything overseas, then disappeared, leaving them destitute.

And one thing that was near universal with lottery winners was that after a year or so, they had nothing to show for it, or were actually worse off. Sudden wealth means disaster if you don't know how to manage not only money, but the sudden pressure from relatives etc to spend it on them. One thing they noticed in Australia was that the old Housing Commision here was a failure for aboriginals. Why? Because the indigenous culture was communist. So as soon as you had anything, it was someone else's, and they would come over and trash your stuff. Aboriginals just wrecked all the free housing they were given because they didn't value any of it, and the few who tried to climb out of the crab bucket were pulled back down. The government has moved since to more providing rent assistance, which is horrible for the disabled because it is quite legal for real estates to discriminate against them, and they are inclined to because disability covers people with severe mental illness, or drug addictions, where they will trash whatever accomodation they are in, or steal from their neighbours, or even burn down the place trying to make meth. So how much is wealthy? A million in assets? That barely gets you a house in Sydney. A billion? Great - but you can be wiped out by illness or divorces. In fact, divorce seems to be the likely fate for any male, meaning they become poorer, meaning they have less assets, less chance of finding a new mate ...

And then you can be arrested and imprisoned because the judge doesn't care what you do earn, they care what you hypothetically might earn according the judge's estimations, and they don't care if their beliefs don't match the reality. If the judge thinks your wife deserves twenty million a year for pedicures, but you can only earn ten, ten million dollars is poverty.

Oliver Warbucks: STILL, I’VE BEEN RICH AND POOR, AND A POOR MAN SURE HAS A LOT LESS TO WORRY ABOUT- Annie: YEAH- AND A LOT LESS TO EAT, SOME TIMES- I’D RATHER WORRY ‘BOUT A FEW MILLIONS I HAD THAN ‘BOUT HOW TO GET TWO BITS-

[antifainternational]

I have a group of acquaintances from my hometown who are mostly “moderate Republicans”, but only because they don’t really pay attention and are young straight white men from an affluent suburb. I don’t hang out with them, but we’re all in a group chat together (that they keep adding me to every time I try to leave). I figured since I was there, I might as well try to introduce them to some leftist, anti-authoritarian ideas. It’s been working—I’ve even seen a shift with the one proper alt-right guy from constantly posting evil shit unfettered to keeping his mouth shut except to occasionally completely make a fool of himself while trying to debate me—but it’s slow. With everything else that’s happening in the US, I’m wondering if this is a worthwhile use of time.

You've already shifted one of your acquaintances from the red pill/alt-right pipeline a bit, so you've answered your own question, Anon! We suggest you keep up the good work here. In fact, we've got some resources for you: If you dig through our Asks Archive, you'll find lots of examples where we responded to the most common bullshit peddled by the far-right. There might be good ammo in there for you to use to continue swaying these guys. The Western States Center has a number of guides offering solid advice on how to respond when people close to you are going down the wrong path. Generally, avoid name-calling and responding with facts is effective. A good way to frame what you say is to Affirm, Answer, & ReDirect: -Affirm that what the person is saying is real and comes from a place of real concern that you understand. This validates them and makes them more open to listening to you. -Answer (or respond) to what they're saying factually. You want to be clear, concise, and concrete when you answer. Make your answer as clear, direct, and succinct as possible and based it on real-world, concrete evidence. -Now you want to ReDirect the person's concern or anger away from the target they thought was appropriate to where they should be angry. To demonstrate: Person 1: I'm fed up with not being able to afford proper housing! There's just not enough homes in this country with all the immigrants coming here! We need to close our borders to makes sure we can house our own people! Person 2: (Affirming): I definitely hear you. It sickens me that so many people are living on the streets here. Rents our out of control. We shouldn't have to worry about whether or not we're going to have a roof over our heads from one month to the next. (Answering): But what is the real problem here? We're one of the richest countries in the world, yet for every one person living on the streets, there are 28 vacant homes available that the owners are just sitting on. The top 20 corporate landlords control over 1.4 million homes. Turning housing from a basic necessity into something to speculate on and try to get rich with means sky-high rents and homes sitting empty while people sleep in the streets. (Redirecting): Immigrants aren't the reason for the housing crisis - relying on capitalism to provide housing when it's only designed to provide profits is the reason! If you are genuinely upset about housing situation here, you need to focus on the people that created the problem and profit from it - wealthy landlords and landowners and the politicians that pass laws that only make them wealthier, at the expense of the rest of us!

[partiallysame]

OK OK OKK JUUSTT LISTEN TO ME ON THIS ONE PLEAASEEEE. what about price's lil missus (or mister, we're gender inclusive here!) getting captured by makarov and being held for ransom. NEED to see this in your writing

No you’re so right Price’s lil missus can also be his lil mister. His lil love his lil dove. Not sure if I’ve used pronouns other than the term missus but we are inclusive here (also it’s on my list to write more male reader too)

Ok ok ok I think when the boys first moved in Simon was appalled at the lack of security. He immediately put in alarms on the doors and a tracker on your car (with your concern although he would’ve even if you said no. Safety is not an option). You had turned the beep on the front door off bc that’s annoying to hear everytime you open it buttttt if the door was ever left open for too long Simon would get an alert in his phone. Usually just you leaving it open when doing something in the yard or grabbing something from your car buttt this time he got the notification and checked the cameras to see you being carried kicking and screaming into a suv. Suddenly they’re in a military humvee tracking the car on traffic cameras. Price cursing himself bc he kept you a secret for a reason. Covert ops meant a covert personal life was the safest option.

While you were Price’s sweet dove you were anything but docile he simply wouldn’t leave you alone for work without knowing you could protect yourself. Makarov was not expecting the sweet lil thing his men grabbed to somehow get a knife into two of his men. But you know, gun pressed to your head helps everyone calm down. So you found yourself tied up in a dark room. The idiot Russian barely had a moment to take the ransom photo before he heard the gunshots outside. The door was exploded open (not their first idea but the fastest). On the way to you they had to discuss how to handle the situation bc they always did their best to make sure civilians weren’t harmed in this situation but now it’s you. It’s the sweet love of their lives. They wanted to rescue you without adding more trauma than already caused. Before the dust settles from the door you saw Johnny full tac gear. A uniform you’ve only ever seen in photos. Emerging behind him was Kyle and a man in a skeleton mask. Johnny found your gaze, his hand motioned over his own eyes, signaling you to close yours. You did and the room got so unbelievably loud. Eyes shut tight, you felt strong arms wrap around you, lifting and carrying you from the room and the noise. When the ringing in your ears stopped enough you could hear your husband’s voice trying to coax you to open your eyes. His hands working to untie you, too scared to bring a knife near you to just cut the restraints off. When you finally opened your eyes, he watched your body untense. Body falling into his only to feel more arms wrap around you from the back. Sobs falling from you and the men around you. Not so big tough when it comes to your life. You looked down and could see the skeleton mask resting on the floor. “Spooky mask Simon.” Your lil quip brought a small smile to their faces. You were ok. You were safe and still yourself. As they guided you to the humvee you tried to turn to look at where you were being held hostage “no nope nope eyes forward sweetheart” just because you were forced to experience some of their job didn’t mean they wanted you to see all of it. They had been chasing makarov for so long but his mistake of coming after Prices lil wife caused him a bullet (or 4) to the head

[rebelsabers]

Your tags:

You’re using disability as a weapon against me in an attempt to silence me and avoid addressing the actual point of this conversation, and that’s something I won’t stand for. I don’t need anyone to define my position on disability or what it means to be a victim because I live it. What’s even worse is the narrative you’re trying to push about disabled people in the tags. You said disgusting things in the tags that should never have to be read by anyone, especially someone who has men in their life who are visibly disabled, and survivors of things similar to the character you’re claiming to defend. I shouldn’t have had to read disgusting comments in the tags that apply to people I know in real life. It’s sickeningly offensive. The assumptions you’re making about my experiences are not only misguided—they’re deeply disrespectful and actively bigoted. The idea that you think it’s okay to reduce the complexity of disabled people’s lives into a simple narrative that fits your argument is disturbing.

I’m tired of seeing these disgusting, baseless accusations thrown at me in the guise of trying to protect some idealized version of a character’s arc. You have no right to weaponize these kinds of assumptions to invalidate my perspective, and frankly, it’s inappropriate. You don’t get to ignore my lived experiences and create a narrative about me based on your own discomfort with accountability and desire to flee responsibility. The real issue here is that you’re deflecting from the actual point—the way Sam Wilson’s journey is being sidelined by this constant focus on Bucky—and instead, you’re using these attacks to distract from your own inability to engage with the conversation in a meaningful way.

Stop weaponizing disability, stop making wild, inaccurate assumptions about me, and let black characters/Sam Wilson have his moment without trying to erase him for the sake of your favoritism of a white character. This narrative doesn’t belong to you, and it’s time to stop pretending that it does.

It’s time to stop making up false narratives and take a hard look at why you’re so intent on making this all about a white character’s past instead of allowing a Black character to have his moment. This isn’t about ableism(and it never was. You brought that out of nowhere to deflect and derail the conversation)—it’s about allowing Sam to have his own space to be Captain America. Your continual attempts to push Bucky’s story into his space while making disgusting assumptions about my beliefs are doing nothing but harming the conversation.

Your disgusting deflection and fictional rhetoric about me aside, let’s get something else out of the way.

First off, don’t try to belittle me with “calm down” or “sounding paranoid”—that’s just a deflection and frankly, dismissive. I’m calling out a pattern I’ve been seeing, which is fans continually sidelining Sam in his own movie for the sake of focusing on Bucky. It’s not a joke when people repeatedly insist on making Sam's film about someone else. Sam deserves his moment without being overshadowed, especially by a character who’s already had multiple arcs. And for the record, Bucky having a 1-minute scene doesn't change the larger issue: this is Sam’s movie, and constantly bringing up Bucky detracts from Sam’s growth and journey.

This isn’t just about Bucky or Sam. This is about respect for Sam Wilson, a Black character finally getting his own movie and story after years of being in the background. It’s frustrating that every time Sam has the chance to stand in the spotlight, people seem to want to pull him back and make it about Bucky or Steve. This is a clear example of the systemic issue where Black characters are constantly sidelined in their own narratives in favor of white characters. Sam is finally becoming Captain America, and yet there’s this need from some fans to focus on Bucky’s backstory—again. Why? Because he’s a white character? It’s no accident that the same fans who are trying to make Sam’s film about Bucky are the ones who refuse to let a black character have his own arc. This isn’t about fandom preferences; it’s about the fact that black characters are too often given less room to develop on their own, while white characters are constantly shoved into their space.

Bucky’s story is important, absolutely—but let’s be real here: this movie is not his. We’ve already seen Bucky’s arc in The First Avenger, The Winter Soldier, Civil War, Infinity War, Endgame, and The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. He’s had plenty of screen time and emotional exploration. Sam has not. But instead of letting Sam have his time, you’re trying to pivot it back to Bucky. That’s the problem. There’s a deep-seated history of white characters being allowed to dominate narratives at the expense of characters of color, especially black characters. Sam having his own movie, his own arc, should be celebrated, not minimized by those who think it’s somehow acceptable to sideline him for someone else’s story.

You can claim this is all about “Bucky’s trauma” all you want, but what you’re really doing is excusing a harmful pattern where the emotional journey of Black characters is undervalued and overshadowed by the the fandom’s favoritism for white characters. What you're doing—trying to make it all about Bucky—reinforces the idea that it’s more important for Bucky to get more screentime than for Sam to have a moment to be his own character, especially in the context of being a black man taking on the mantle of Captain America. Sam’s trauma is deeply tied to the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that can’t just be glossed over by making it about Bucky every time they share a scene or talking about how bucky should be there. You can’t just keep deflecting Sam’s journey and importance because it’s more comfortable for you to focus on a white character. It’s dismissive, it’s disrespectful, and it perpetuates the narrative that black stories are secondary.

I know i’m being overly repetitive for a normal person, but you really seem to be the kind that need it explained to you multiple times to get it. Especially since you keep trying to to deflect, derail, and make so many excuses for this behavior.

You can’t ignore the fact that Sam, as Captain America, isn’t just a superhero—he’s also a black man who has to overcome systemic oppression, and that needs to be explored. But instead of letting Sam shine, you’d rather focus on Bucky. It’s frustrating, because people of color often have to fight tooth and nail to get space in these narratives—and then, when they finally get it, it’s undermined by others who refuse to let them exist without constantly dragging them back into someone else’s story.

So, yes, this is a problem. It’s not about the fact that Bucky’s trauma matters (which wasn’t even part of the post and isn’t relevant)—it does—but the problem is that you and others are so focused on his past and his character, that you’re missing the point of Sam’s story. Sam Wilson, as Captain America, is carrying the weight of history. He’s carrying the weight of being a Black man in America, and that’s something that deserves to be explored without being overshadowed by Bucky, Steve, or anyone else. No matter how much you like that character. You can keep saying Sam has more screen time than Bucky in this one film just for once, but the issue here isn’t about how much time Bucky gets; it’s about how much space Sam is allowed to take up in his own movie. You’re contributing to a culture that consistently tries to diminish the importance of Black characters and their stories.

Sam deserves his own moment without constantly having to support a white character’s journey. So, no—this isn’t about ableism, and it isn’t about invalidating Bucky’s trauma or anything else you want to deflect the conversation with. It’s about the simple fact that Sam Wilson is finally getting his moment, and it’s being undermined by people like you who can’t seem to let go of the need to make it about someone else, someone who’s already had their time in the spotlight.

Someone white.

That’s what this is really about.

"Sam, you are not going to believe how exponentially badly my day is going."

"Probably not as badly as mine, Buck"

[steveseddie]

come sleep with me

written for @steddielovemonth day 14 “come sleep with me: we won’t make love, love will make us” | the @steddiebingo kissing booth mini event, prompt: mutual pining | the @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt: love

rating: t | wc: 915 | no cw | tags: friends with benefits, mutual pining, idiots in love

read on ao3

Any other day Eddie would be thrilled to have Steve like this– half-naked under him, flushed and squirming from Eddie kissing all over his chest. 

Part of him sure is interested, but the rest knows that when Steve called earlier and asked him to come over, he probably should’ve said no. 

But if there’s something Eddie isn’t good at, it’s telling Steve no. 

Otherwise, how would he end up hooking up with Steve on the regular while knowing fully well that he was setting himself up for heartbreak?

So Eddie said yes, and he came over despite being physically and mentally exhausted from an entire week of awful nightmares. He thinks he’s doing a decent job at shoving it all away to pay attention to Steve. That is until he feels Steve’s hand grab hold of his neck and use it to pull him up so he can look at his face and ask– “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

Eddie shakes his head, his hair falling around them. “Nothing,” he lies. Badly if the way Steve arches an eyebrow at him means anything. Eddie heaves out a sigh. “I– I haven’t been sleeping well. I’ve had nightmares all week. I’m so tired and there’s just so much in my head right now–”

Of course, Eddie doesn’t expect Steve to act mad or disappointed but he’s still surprised by how gently he brushes Eddie’s hair off of his face, his eyes soft as he stares up at him. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Eddie lets out a snort. “Yeah because telling the guy you’re making out with that you can’t stop thinking about demobats ripping into your flesh is such a turn-on,” he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

Tugging at Eddie’s hair, Steve half-heartedly rolls his eyes. “I meant earlier, Eds.” 

“I guess I was hoping that this was what I needed,” Eddie admits, shrugging. 

“What you need is sleep.”

Eddie sighs. “Yeah, I know.”

When Steve gently shoves Eddie off of him, he takes that as his cue to leave. Especially when Steve walks over to his closet and puts on some sweatpants. Now that he knows nothing is happening between them tonight, it makes sense that Steve is getting ready for bed.  

Which means Eddie should probably get out of his way. 

He just found his jeans and is about to put them back on when Steve tosses something at him. It lands at his feet– a pair of sweatpants.  

“Do you need a shirt too or are you sleeping shirtless?” Steve asks, still rummaging through his closet. 

Eddie stares blankly at his naked back. “Um, what?” 

“Do you want to borrow a shirt?” He asks, glancing at Eddie over his shoulder. His lips tug up into a smirk when he adds, “I have a Tears for Fears shirt you’d look great in, I think.” 

Eddie takes too long to think of a comeback and Steve frowns, probably expecting him to jump at the thought of wearing a shirt of a band that plays anything other than heavy metal. And he would, if he wasn’t busy trying to wrap his head around the fact that Steve seems to think he’s staying over. 

He’s never done that even after they started hooking up. 

Steve’s eyes dart to the jeans Eddie is holding in his hand. “You weren’t planning on sleeping in those, were you?” He asks with a chuckle. 

“No, I– I was gonna go home.”

Steve’s mouth twists downward. “Why?” 

Because they don’t sleep together. They have sex and then Eddie leaves. It hurts every time, but he knows it would hurt more if he stayed and woke up next to Steve –or, god forbid, in Steve’s arms– only for it not to mean anything to him.

“I– we never– we don’t do that–”

“I know,” Steve says, sucking his lip between his teeth. “But what– what if I want us to do that?” 

Eddie blinks. “Sleep together?” 

“No, yeah,” Steve rubs a hand against his neck, “but also, um– other things.” 

Eddie’s breath hitches. “Like?”

“Like going on dates and cuddling and holding hands, maybe not in public but like, in front of our friends if you’re okay with that and–”

“Steve, Stevie, are you– are you saying you want to date me?” Eddie asks, his voice an octave higher, his heart threatening to beat right out of his chest.

“Yeah,” Steve softly admits and Eddie can’t help but gasp. “But I– I promise I didn’t feel this way when we started this, and I was going to say something to you, but I was nervous that you didn’t–”

“I did! I do! Feel that way. Since before we started this, even. If anyone should’ve said anything, it’s me,” Eddie stammers out. “I thought I was setting myself up for heartbreak when you eventually found someone else and stopped wanting me–”

“I wouldn’t, I won’t. In fact,” Steve says, starting to smile. He moves closer to Eddie, one of his hands brushing against his fingers. “I’m crazy about you, Eds.”

“Jesus, Steve,” Eddie mutters, and then he’s cupping Steve’s face and bringing him closer so he can kiss him squarely on the lips. It’s not the first time they’ve kissed, but it’s definitely different.

“So,” Steve starts, pulling back only enough to get the words out. “Is that a yes?” 

“To dating you?” Eddie asks, their lips brushing together. Steve nods. 

And well, Eddie still can’t say no to Steve, so he says–

“Yes.”

[bunny-jpeg]

quenching a thirst

daniel ricciardo

request: is there any possibility to have 2 and 10 with daniel for the valentines ask? 2. “i’ve never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly.” + 10. “we’re in public, you know.”

tags: smut/pwp, semi-public sex (in a closet), assistant!reader, secret relationship, oral sex (reader receives), quick & messy, hair pulling

eros (the valentine's collection)

"danny." you said as you placed your hands on his chest. it only encouraged him to lean in closer to you. you said a little more sternly, "danny."

"no one is watching, just one kiss. i want to taste that lip gloss of yours when i talk to the reporters." he licked his lips. you hated that there was something about him that made you flustered. flirting came natural to him and it made you feel warm all over.

you held onto your clipboard in your free hand and said, "and they could come bargaining in at any second. you want to be on the news for being at this charity event, not for kissing your assistant." but daniel still captured your lips in his.

when he pulled away, he licked his lips and said, "mmm, apple pie."

but you knew one kiss wouldn't calm down daniel's need for you. one kiss turned into two and two often turned into three rounds of sex in the closest bad you could find. you knew you had every chance to say no, but the charm of daniel ricciardo was undeniable.

even when he got on your nerves at times. you gave him several small kisses and one long make-out session with his tongue in your mouth before he was able to do his interviews. you tried to deny the heat between your legs while you watched him from the sidelines. you could see the slight shine on his lips, obvious from your kisses.

you had been secretly seeing daniel for about six months. you had been his assistant for over a year and a half, all that time together let something bloom between you two. nights spent between races, the home-cooked meals you made him try, that one time you held his hand while he got his newest tattoo.

you two were close and daniel loved you. which was why he yearned for your kisses. and why he whined when you refused to give him more. he was insatiable at times, but yet it made you flustered. like when he kissed you and ran his tongue across your bottom lip.

"we're in public you know." you said as you ended up pressed against the wall of a hallway. you moaned into another kiss when he pinched you behind.

you knew it didn't actually matter. you could publicly date him with little to no fuss. but you didn't want people to think you got your job because you were sleeping with your boss. daniel understood, he respected that you wanted to be seen with integrity. but that didn't lessen his need for your kisses and your love.

"sorry, babe." he said sweetly, "i like when you make sure i'm well taken care of. i feel like i should do the same considering how needy you get."

you chuckled, warmed by his words, "what do you me to say? i've never wanted anyone to fuck me this badly? get on my knees for you." you held onto his strong shoulders. you were totally smitten.

the allure he had over you, you were both alone in the hallway with his lips on yours. he said lowly, "i want you. i want to taste you. i don't think i can wait till we get back home." his large hands were on your hips. he held you close and licked his top lip.

"you're insatiable, ricciardo."

he leaned in further, "i know, but you love me. just like how i love you." you quickly ended up in a supply closet with your back up against a few shelves.

"fuck." you whispered as daniel quickly and quietly closed the door and turned on the low light. even in the dim light he looked good, you eyes him as he got to his knees and hiked up your short skirt. you covered your mouth as he pulled your panties down and exposed your pussy to him.

"look at you." he mused quietly, "you look so good. i et you taste so sweet. when i was talking to the press i thought about you. how i'd rather be back home with my head between your thighs." and chuckled before he heard you quietly moan.

"danny." you said and tensed up as he kissed your pussy. he held onto your soft thighs with your skirt pushed up to your waist and your panties to your ankles. you leaned further against the shelves.

his tongue was talented, and with a pussy as perfect as yours he only wanted to make you feel good. he groaned against your cunt and licked at it. he could feel heat in his body, the air in the cramped space got warmer. his cock throbbed in his jeans. he held on a little tighter and pressed his nose further into your sex.

your wetness stained his lips more than your lip gloss did earlier. while daniel liked the apple pie flavour, your pussy tasted better. you moaned and tried to keep yourself composed. you couldn't be too loud or else people would start to get curious. you covered your mouth once more with one hand and held onto his short dark hair with the other.

daniel groaned against your pussy when you gave his hair a short tug. he licked your stiff clit and felt an electric feeling move through him. you tasted divine. he pressed further, he couldn't get enough. your pussy was the most divine of tastes and it made daniel eager to have more.

his attention on your clit made your body tense up as pleasure raced through you. "danny." you said in a hushed tone, "right there, fuck. i love when you tease my clit." you shakily exhaled and held onto his hand with both hands now. it all felt overwhelming in the best way possible, but you couldn't cause a scene right now.

you didn't want to be public with your relationship at that time, you knew what a hard launch was. but you didn't want to launch your relationship because someone cause daniel's head between your legs!

he looked up at you and dragged his tongue messily across your cunt. your wetness drooled down his chin. he was a messy eater. it was endearing, almost cute. you felt a wobble in your knees as he admired you for a moment before he went back to orally pleasuring you.

you felt the lingering heat in your body and swore under your breath. his large hands held onto your thighs and he licked your sopping wet sex. you whimpered as his movements and you knew you weren't going to last much longer.

daniel felt the strain in his jeans as he continued to pleasure your pussy with a talented eagerness. he could feel the pre-cum stain the front of his briefs. he couldn't care less. not when he had a mission. your eager noises only pulled him in closer and he loved how you tasted. it was like a taste of heaven and your noises were angel choirs, it made his heart sing. it felt good as he applied more pressure to his movements and then felt you quiver around him.

in a cramped storage room, daniel feasted on your beautifully slick cunt and your hushed pleasured noises. you felt blissed out as he only worked himself harder against you.

daniel loved you, that was certain. he knew it from the bottom of his heart. he ached for you, needed to be close to you. even when you tried to do your job. you held on a little tighter and pushed your pussy up against him. he could feel your love through your pussy up against his face.

"please. fuck, yes." you near squeaked as the pleasure reached its pack. you shakily exhaled in an attempt to hold back a moan. silence was key. it was heated in the closet, the sweat dampened your back as your breathed heavily.

daniel's moan was muffled by your pussy and felt the tension in your thighs. he gave you one last lick and felt your orgasm cross through you. he looked up and watched you have to cover your mouth as you came. your knees shook as the intense feeling washed over you. a small noise spilled from his lips. you cursed under your breath as you relaxed a little.

daniel pulled away and wiped his wet mouth with the back of his hand. he chuckled lightly and let himself remain excited. he grinned at you, "pretty girl." then helped you back into your panties before he pushed your skirt down over your thighs.

"i'm not making this a habit." you said pointedly. daniel got back to his feel, he kissed you on the cheek before he wiped his wet mouth.

"of course." he wrapped his arms around you, "next time we'll just leave easily and i can see how loud you can get." then winked.

you playfully pushed his chest, "you're insatiable, danny."

"i know, but only for you." <3

[shockercoco]

Better Late Than Never

Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings - fluff, some kissing, Valentine’s Day shenanigans, flirty!Bucky

Word count - 2167

a/n - Happy Valentine’s Day everyone, especially to all my fellow single readers! I’ve somehow ended up in my Sebastian Stan era again, so I thought why fight it. It’s been a while since I’ve written an imagine, and I’m feeling a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy and thanks in advance for reading :)

“What’s got you smiling so much?” You ask Wanda as she sits down across from you.

It was Wanda’s idea to meet up for lunch after finding out about the rough morning you had, and she had also told you that she had some good news to share that might cheer you up. 

You had woken up late for work, couldn’t find your car keys, and when you reached the halfway point on your journey to work, you realized you didn’t have your phone. Today just wasn’t your day.

“Remember how I said I had some good news?” Wanda asks, her smile huge as she leans in and rests her elbows on the table. When you nod, she continues. “Well, Vision surprised me at work and finally asked me to be his girlfriend! He brought me flowers and everything.”

Yeah, today just really wasn’t your day.

“That’s really great, Wanda, but how exactly is that supposed to cheer me up?” you question, giving her a small smile to soften your words.

“Because you were the one who suggested that I should confess my feelings to him, and you’ve pretty much been with me every step of the way,” Wanda tells you. Her expression then turns into confusion. “Is something wrong?”

You honestly were really proud and happy for Wanda, and if this were any other time of the year, your reaction would’ve been different. But it’s not. Valentine's Day is at the end of the week and you just want the week to be over with.

While you were walking down the street on your way to the restaurant, you walked past a woman getting proposed to in the park. While you were waiting for the light to change in order for you to cross the street, you saw a couple making out. As you walked past a street vendor selling flowers, you overheard the vendor making conversation with a man who was apparently looking for the right flowers to buy his crush. Now, Wanda hits you with this.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you quickly shake your head. “I’ve just had a weird day.”

She looks at you for a moment longer, not fully believing you. “Hmm, there’s something else. Tell me.”

You let out a laugh. “Wanda, I’m fine. It just…it’s nothing really. I’m good.”

“It’s just what?” Wanda asks. When you hesitate again, she adds, “We’re not ordering until you tell me what’s up,” she smirks at you. 

A small groan leaves you, before you speak up, “It’s just that Bucky hasn’t asked me to be his valentine yet, and this is our first Valentine’s Day as a couple. It stupid, I know. I shouldn’t even be upset.”

“No, it’s not stupid. Have you mentioned how you feel to him?”

“No, I didn’t think I had to since he’s always surprising me with gifts any other time of the year. I just figured this would just happen naturally, but nothing yet.”

“I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. After all, it’s still the beginning of the week. Who knows, he could just be waiting for the actual day to come,” Wanda says, and when you don’t say anything, she places a hand on top of yours and continues, “I’d honestly be surprised if Bucky does absolutely nothing for you. Everyone knows how obsessed he is with you.”

That makes you smile. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Of course I am, and when Valentine’s Day comes and he still hasn’t asked you to be his valentine, call me, I’ll hunt him down,” Wanda tells you right as a waitress walks up to the table to take your guys’ order. She catches the end of Wanda’s sentence and has a confused, yet amused look on her face. “Sorry, just relationship problems.”

The waitress laughs as she says, “Don’t worry I understand.”

Later that night when you're at Bucky’s place for a movie night the two of you had planned the week before, you can feel Bucky looking at you repeatedly while your eyes are still on the screen. You’re cuddled up into his side with his arm wrapped around you, but you still notice the constant shifting of his head.

You finally give in and look up at him. “Is there something on my face?” you ask him, your tone teasing.

Bucky’s confused with your question. “No, why?”

“Because you keep looking at me.”

“What, I can’t admire my own girlfriend anymore?”

“It feels more like staring than anything,” you tell him, and Bucky just laughs.

“Well, then I’m sorry,” Bucky apologizes as he places a hand on your cheek to lift your head up. He leans down to place a gentle kiss on your lips, a smile still tugging on the corner of his lips. When he pulls away, he still keeps the distance between the two of you small as he looks into your eyes.

“Seriously, what is it?” you whine as you playfully shove him away from you, causing him to laugh. He knows how much you hate it when he does that. “Is there something bugging you?” you casually slide in the question, slightly hoping that he would use this time to ask you to be his valentine.

“No, there isn’t,” he laughs and pulls away, turning his attention back to the screen, but keeping his arm still wrapped around you. “I’m done, I promise.” 

He misses the slight drop in your expression, but you quickly fix your face before looking back at the tv as well.

As the week goes on, you try to focus on more important things, but as Friday continues to get closer, your hope continues to diminish. You and Bucky continue to text normally throughout the week, but when Thursday afternoon comes Bucky calls you to let you know that he’ll be going on a mission the next day. On Valentine’s Day.

“I’m sorry it’s such short notice, doll, but Steve needs me,” you hear Bucky softly tell you through the phone. You’re sitting on a chair in front of your window watching people pass by with Bucky on speaker.

“Oh, no it’s okay, I understand,” you say, trying to keep the disappointment out of your voice. “How long will you be gone?”

There’s a moment of silence on the other end, before Bucky speaks, “A couple of weeks.”

Weeks? 

Your heart drops at his answer and you feel your throat start to tighten. You quickly mute yourself to clear the tears from your throat, before unmuting.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” he asks, noticing your delayed response. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t it be? There’s people out there that need you,” you speak up.

You catch sight of your neighbor’s boyfriend walking up to her house with a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You momentarily forget you’re on the phone and unintentionally let out a frustrated sigh at the sight, catching Bucky’s attention.

“Listen, I can probably get out of it. I’m sure Steve doesn’t need me that bad, there’s a whole team of people that are available to help out.”

A sad laugh leaves you. “Bucky it’s fine, I promise. He’s your best friend and he specifically asked you because he wants you, so go.”

“If you insist,” you hear Bucky sigh “I know you’re upset, though, so I promise to make it up to you when I get back, okay?”

That makes you crack a smile. “Okay.”

When the next day rolls around, you take your time getting out of bed. Unfortunately, you had the day off today, which of course you would’ve been happy about under different circumstances. 

You decide to keep yourself busy and do some chores to pass time, but by the time you’re done cleaning every crevice and doing laundry, it’s only four in the afternoon.

At some point, Wanda calls to check up on you and asks if you wanted her and Vision to come over and have dinner with you. Vision was planning on cooking for just the two of them, but he told you he had no problem making more. Although the two of them both repeatedly insisted they didn’t mind making the drive to your place, you declined.

It felt wrong to intrude on a special night like tonight. 

After telling Wanda and Vision that you would just order in, the two of you finally end the call.

You weren’t currently that hungry so you decided to just order something later. You make yourself comfortable on the couch and decide to put on a tv show you’ve been wanting to watch. 

A couple episodes later, you finally start to get hungry, and right when you’re about to place an order, your doorbell rings. You shake your head thinking it was just Vision and Wanda coming to share their food, but as you look through the peephole to see Bucky standing outside holding a bouquet of flowers and a stuffed animal you had been wanting, your heart drops along with your jaw.

You look down at your outfit and contemplate quickly changing, but decide against it.

“Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you had to go on a mission?” you ask when you open the door.

“Surprise!” Bucky greets you with a bright smile. He leans in to give you a kiss, before whispering, “Happy Valentine's Day, sweetheart.”

Bucky can see that you’re still shocked and at a loss for words, so he just laughs as he pushes past you and makes his way inside. You close the door behind him and watch as he makes his way into the kitchen and lays the flowers on the counter along with the stuffed animal.

“As much as I’m happy that you’re here, why are you here?” your eyebrows are furrowed as you lean against the counter, your arms folded across your chest. 

Bucky sends you a smirk as he quickly puts the flowers in water before making his way over to you. He places his hands on your waist as closes the distance between you two.

“You didn’t really think that I’d miss our first Valentine’s Day together, did you?”

“I didn’t even think you remembered, I mean you haven’t said anything about it all week,” you tell him.

“Yeah, Wanda told me you were a little upset,” Bucky mentions and your eyes widen.

“What a traitor, she wasn’t supposed to say anything,” you say slightly embarrassed as you look off to the side. Then a thought hits you, and you look back at him. “Wait, did you just come here because of what Wanda told you?”

“No, I was already planning on coming here tonight.”

“But what about your mission?” you ask, still confused.

Bucky smiles. “There never was a mission, doll. I made it up because I wanted to surprise you. You really thought I would spend today with Steve instead of you?”

“...Well, he is your best friend.”

“That’s true,” Bucky nods, grabbing your hands in his and placing kisses on your knuckles, “but, you’re my best girl,” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, causing butterflies in your stomach and your face to heat up.

What were you upset about again?

A chuckle leaves Bucky as he watches you shyly smile as you look away.

“You could’ve at least said something this whole week,” you tell him.

“I know, I know,” he admits, “but I was trying to get everything together.”

“Get what together?” you ask.

Bucky stays silent for a moment as if trying to find the right words to say. Then he says, “I want you to move in with me.”

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches as you stare back at him. “What?”

Maybe you inhaled too many chemicals while cleaning.

“I want you to move in with me,” Bucky repeats. “I know we’ve been dating for less than a year and I completely understand if this is too fast for you, but there’s plenty of room for you at my place and I would be much happier if I was able to have you next to me when I wake up every morning.”

Oh. 

You blink.

“You’re serious?” you ask, even though there's no indication on his face to tell you he’s lying. 

Bucky lets go of your hands to place his on either side of your face. “Completely. Like I said, you’re my best girl.” He watches a smile slowly form on your lips. “So, what do you say?”

“Yes,” you say, and Bucky’s grin grows wider, but you hold your hand up. “Don’t start smiling yet, I wasn’t finished.”

Bucky quickly fixes his face and tries to suppress his excitement. “Of course, continue.”

“I say yes, only if you agree to never pull anything like this ever again.”

“Ever?” Bucky repeats, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky!” you playfully hit his chest.

“I’m just kidding,” he laughs, leaning in to kiss you. Then he pulls away just enough to murmur against your lips, “I’ll just wait until you forget.”

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[multific]

Heart of a Father

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: In the shadow of his illness, Caracalla worries for your unborn child. You try your best to reassure him but his mind is too far gone. Only the birth of his child would bring calmness to his internal storm. 

When the sun dipped below the horizon, you sat in the villa's garden.

Your hands rested protectively on your swollen belly, and the rhythmic chirping of cicadas filled the air. Though the scene was calm, the tension from Caracalla could be cut with a knife.

He paced restlessly.

“Calla,” you called out to him, watching as he paused and turned to look at you. His eyes were filled with worry.

“You should be inside. It’s getting cold,” he said as if suddenly he became aware of your presence.

You smiled faintly, reaching out a hand to him. “I’m fine. Sit with me?”

You watched as he sank to his knees beside you, his hand immediately moving to your belly.

The warmth of his palm against your skin through the thin fabric of your dress.

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “What if… what if I’ve passed something to our child?”

You cupped his cheek, guiding his eyes to yours.

“We’ve talked about this, My Love. The physicians have said our baby is healthy. And I believe them.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, his other hand moving through his hair.

“But they don’t know for sure. They don’t understand… the poison in my blood, the illness. What if it’s already affected done its damage?”

You tightened your grip on his hand, hoping to help ground him.

“Caracalla, listen to me. Whatever comes, we’ll face it together. You’ve fought countless battles and ruled an empire. This is no different. You’re not alone in this. Geta will also help us. He promised many times. Everything will be fine.”

His eyes filled with tears as he looked at you.

“You’re too good to me. I don’t deserve you.”

“You deserve everything, My Love,” you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips.

He rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

“I’m so scared, love. I’ve never been scared like this before.” his hands were shaking, you could feel that. You tried your best to ground him.

You placed your hand over his heart, feeling its steady rhythm beneath your palm.

“That fear only proves how much you love her already. We going to be fine, all three of us. I believe in us, Calla. Do you?”

He nodded, his breath hitching as he exhaled. “I do. I have to.”

---

The night your daughter was born was a day filled with all kinds of emotions.

The palace, usually so imposing and grand, felt small and suffocating as you were in labour.

Caracalla was made to wait outside as per tradition. You cursed tradition for that. You needed him by your side. Why wasn't he there? You felt so alone even if you had a room filled with women.

When your daughter's cries filled the room, a sound so pure and loud it chased away all your fears, Caracalla froze.

He watched, transfixed on the door.

The midwife wrapped the tiny bundle and placed her in his arms.

This is when another midwife opened the door and Caracalla barged in and to your side immediately.

With shaking hands, he looked at you before he looked at her.

“She’s… perfect,” he murmured, staring down at her in awe.

He traced a finger along her cheek.

You reached out for him, your voice soft.

“She’s strong,” you said, smiling up at him. “Just like her father.”

“No,” he said, his voice breaking. “She’s strong like her mother.” He leaned down to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering. “Thank you. For her and for loving.”

In the days and weeks that followed, Caracalla proved to be a caring father.

Geta took on ruling an empire fully for the time being, he wanted to ensure his brother had time for his daughter, for which you will be eternally grateful.

Caracalla was constantly holding her in his arms during the day and pacing the halls with her when she cried at night.

One evening, as you watched him hold her while the sun was setting behind them, he turned to you with a look of pure adoration.

“She’s my redemption,” he said quietly, his voice filled with awe. “Through her, I can be better. For her, I will be better.”

You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

“You already are. She’s lucky to have you, Calla. We both are.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“I believe, I’m the lucky one. I’ll spend every day proving that to both of you.”

Caracalla's fear of his illness affecting his daughter disappeared the moment his eyes laid on her.

A small treasure.

Treasure for an Emperor who thought he had it all.

But now he believed, he truly had it all. 

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[hcneymooners]

⋆ up until the very last ember of my heart extinguishes, i will be thinking of you.

dj!mel x best friend!fem!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you & mel have always been thick as thieves, and things have yet to change. but lately, you've been thinking of mel differently and, well—maybe you want more. cw: dj!mel, best friend!reader, female!reader, no age gap i fear, you guys are in your twenties, modern!au, resolved sexual tension, pining, friends to lovers, clubbing, not actually unrequited love, explicit sexual content, dom!mel, sub!reader, lowkey y'all are switches, wall sex, tender sex, vaginal fingering, edging, cunnilingius, oral sex (r!receiving), couch sex, mel is actually insane about you, obsession, possessive behavior, squirting, face riding, pet names, you guys are very soft for each other.

notes: i love her so much guys; i'm gonna be sick. hope you enjoy. this is really rough for my first time back in a while but it is what it is, hmm?

“you’re loyal to her. i’ve never gone a night without seeing you here.”

the words are screamed directly into your ear and you stumble a bit, already off kilter thanks to the lychee martinis you’ve been sipping since the beginning of the evening. the world is beautiful like this: slurred into soft strobes of turquoise, gold, green that caress the sweaty gleaming bodies of the people spinning within it. the set for tonight is still danceable but decidedly slower than usual, honing in on the loneliness and escapism other people may desire on valentine’s eve.

you blink blearily at the girl vibrating next to you. she shakes with a jitter you know belongs either to ketamine or cocaine—or perhaps both. ck-ing was a popular method of dressing up a club night in london. you stop swaying to the beat, body still as you focus on her completely. mel once told you that this was your pull—this ability to make whomever was in front of you feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to you.

“sorry, what?” you finally push out.

“mel,” the girl shouts again, gesturing to the stage way up front. “whenever she’s performing, you’re here!”

you glance up at the woman in question, face softening as you watch the way her body flows into her highly practiced routine of dance. tonight the movements are more minimal, courtesy of her dress—a masterpiece of fanned peacock feathers that catch and scatter light with every subtle movement. the feathers are arranged in a mesmerizing spiral from the jeweled clasp beneath her arm, each eye seeming to watch the crowd as she moves. it's shorter than her usual style, ending mid-thigh in a flutter of iridescent tips that make her look like some rare, exotic bird. every time the bass drops, the feathers tremble in response, creating a hypnotic dance of green-blue shadows across her skin.

it’s not typical for a dj-ing outfit, but mel has cemented herself as a rich girl with a talent. everyone knows who she is, who her mother is. they love that she comes down to their level during the weekends, covers herself in glitter and spins together a beat like some kind of opulent spider.

"yeah," you shout back, your voice still managing to sound tender. "she's my best friend."

the words feel both true and incomplete in your mouth - they always do. you've been "best friends" since you quite literally crashed into her at university, spilling your coffee all over her white hermès sweater. instead of the fury you'd expected, she'd laughed, dragged you shopping for a replacement, and somehow ended up buying you three sweaters instead.

that was mel all over: excessive, generous, impossible to refuse.

"lucky!" your momentary friend shouts back and your mouth dips into a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

lucky. right. lucky to be the one who holds her hair back after bad nights, who listens to her practice sets until dawn, who knows exactly how she likes her tea when she's stressed (earl grey, splash of oat milk, two sugars). lucky to be the one who gets to love her from this careful distance, never quite close enough to risk everything.

the girl disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the music again. mel's current track winds down, bleeding into something slower, more haunting. you recognize it immediately—it's one of her original pieces, the one she'd made you listen to first, cross-legged on her bedroom floor at 3 am, her face anxious and hopeful in the low light.

the memory makes your chest ache. up on stage, she's different from that vulnerable version of herself. her movements are precise and controlled, even in that impossible dress. you watch as she adjusts something on her deck, the feathers shifting across her back like ripples in dark water. when she reaches up to adjust her headphones, the dress catches the light in a way that makes your breath catch.

you're not the only one watching. the crowd around you is entranced, and you hear snippets of their whispered appreciation. the warmth of your tipsiness is starting to wear off. you’re suddenly so much more aware of yourself, of the differences between you and the luminescent girl on stage.

tonight you’ve chosen a simple black midi dress with a scoop neck that cups your chest gently. the tops of your breasts swell up softly at the mouth of the fabric, gleaming with a golden sheen that could only belong to your beloved diamond shimmer bath and body works mist. your hair has been longer by a copious number of extensions, the bundles pooling together at your lower back. tinsel is strung artfully in-between some strands, a careful layering courtesy of mel.

as you look around at the people around you, you feel boring and a bit underdressed. everyone is suddenly so much cooler than you and the thought brings a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the embarrassment strong in its resurgence. you shift in place as the song changes to something a bit more fast-paced. there’s a chorus of screams, shouts of pleasure, and the floor begins to shake as people flood it to dance. you smile tightly as someone slams into you rather harshly, their apology half-assed and unfocused.

you clutch the top of your mother’s vintage ysl clutch, the chain a bit rusted and the body bulging with a combination of your house keys, your lip combo, some shit from work you didn’t take out in time, and the normally slim body of your phone which as been made bigger by the chunky sides of your artisan bedazzled phone case. the multiple polaroids of you and mel in the back didn’t help the situation in any way, the glossy memories slightly distended by the rolled bills you’ve tucked back there for emergencies.

as you turn to navigate the sudden pit of people, the music lowers just enough so that mel’s soft steady voice bleeds through. the lights flash once, twice, a third time; the bulbs are hot and pink. you know what’s coming, but you still don’t turn around, though your mouth twitches in a smile.

"hey, london," mel croons and the crowd screams back at her, eager to greet the woman soundtracking what is probably just another tuesday evening. "i have a question before i finish up. i don't want to forget."

your heart stutters in your chest. she does this sometimes, turns you into an unwitting participant in her performances. you remember the first time she did it, six months ago, how your knees had gone weak at the way she'd claimed you so publicly, so casually. how dangerous it had felt, how thrilling.

"has anyone seen my girl?"

the crowd goes crazy and you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your smile, heat flooding your cheeks. you hate how easily she can undo you, how these little moments of possession—even if they're just part of her show—make your pulse race. your free hand unconsciously touches the delicate gold chain around your neck—her birthday gift from last year, a tiny hextech crystal pendant that she'd said "reminded her of home."

"i came in with her. you know her, right? gorgeous little thing in a short black dress. kind of looks like…"

you close your eyes, remembering how she'd fussed over you earlier tonight, her fingers gentle as she wove tinsel through your hair. 'perfect,' she'd murmured, her breath warm against your ear, and you'd had to suppress a shiver. now, surrounded by strangers who are about to echo what you've felt for years, the irony isn't lost on you.

she trails off, holds out her mic to a group of girls right below her who giggle out the finishing portion of her sentence.

“…the love of my life!” they sing, drawing out the ‘i’ for a long while.

mel’s laugh echoes through the speakers, the sound throaty and raw. on cue, the music begins: “please don’t be love of my life” by caitvi, (calvin harris mix). they were a rock band that accidentally stumbled into becoming the summer muses for every edm fiend in existence.

you clutch your empty martini glass with a renewed strength, fighting until you manage to clutch a hand on the bar. the bartender smiles at you, complimenting your perfume which you don’t even think is still on your skin. you say thank you anyway, laughing openly as they tease you about your fondness for lychee. you’ve always been this way, you want to say, always holding on to what you know in the hopes that it’ll eventually love you back.

instead, you look over your shoulder at mel’s far off silhouette. there’s a moment where she looks up, seems to look at you. you don’t know if she really sees you, given your distance and the disorienting nature of the club. you smile regardless, raise a hand to wave lightly. the chrome bow on your acrylics flashes meanly, signaling your position.

she looks way, smiles earnestly at the crowd, and you drop your hand. the moment is broken, like always. as you move to pull your refreshed martini by the stem, mel’s dj tag sounds: sounds of birds of paradise, interwoven into one another over a damagingly sad violin sample. it’s her way of letting the people know that this will be her last couple of songs for the evening.

the birds’ calls fade into the melancholy beginning of “healing” by gordo featuring drake. the opening notes reverberate through you and you press your lips together, body thrumming with the effect of being noticed. she had seen you. that was the only reason she was playing this song. it had been your favorite for the past month, and now here it was on blast at one of the most elite clubs in the city.

‘i want to see you dance to this,’ she’d told you one evening, her mouth trailing against your shoulder. you were twisted together in your bed, the blankets plush around you as the two of you shared her airpods. ‘i want to see you have fun, lose yourself.’

‘i can’t lose myself,’ you’d said back, mouth rising in a secretive smile.

mel had lifted your hand teasingly, bit it gently, and then interlinked her fingers with yours.

‘don’t worry. i’ll find you.’

you look back at her, find her leaning over her deck with a finger pressed pensively to her mouth. she quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the crowd, as if asking why you’re not inside of it. you smile despite it all and abandon your martini, wiggling through the gaps of people until you're up front.

the bass drops and the crowd surges forward, but you hold your ground, eyes locked on mel. she's watching you now, really watching you, her movements more deliberate as she works the deck. you recognize this version of the song; it's her own remix, the one she'd been perfecting for weeks in her home studio. she'd added layers of ethereal synths that make it feel like you're floating, like you're the only person in the room who really understands what she's trying to say.

she gestures to her security guard, a subtle movement that you've seen countless times before. within moments, strong hands are parting the crowd, creating a path to the booth. your heart pounds as you're ushered up the steps, into her domain of switches and lights and pulsing energy. the peacock feathers of her dress brush against your arm as she pulls you close, her free hand settling on your waist.

"dance with me," she murmurs into your ear, her voice carrying despite the thundering music. her fingers trace patterns on your hip, and you wonder if she can feel you trembling. "show them what this song was made for."

you let your body move with hers, falling into the rhythm she's created. the feathers of her dress catch the light with each movement, creating a private light show just for the two of you. she keeps one hand on the deck, maintaining the perfect flow of music, but her other hand never leaves your body, guiding you through the dance like she's afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

the crowd below is going wild, but you barely notice them. all you can focus on is the way mel's breath catches when you press closer, the way her fingers tighten on your waist when you roll your hips. the tinsel in your hair catches the light, mixing with the iridescent shimmer of her dress until you're both wrapped in a cocoon of glitter and sound.

"see?" she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "i told you i'd find you."

the words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head slightly, catching her gaze. there's something different in her eyes tonight, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. maybe it's the valentine's eve atmosphere, or maybe it's the way the lights are hitting her face, but for a moment, you let yourself believe that the look she's giving you means what you want it to mean.

she transitions into the next song seamlessly, but keeps you close, as if she's forgotten that this isn't how she usually ends her sets. as if she's forgotten that you're supposed to be just her best friend, watching from the crowd like always. as if, just for tonight, you could be something more.

the spell breaks when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the booth's chrome panels. you see yourself pressed against her, see the way you're looking at her: desperate, obvious, completely transparent. the music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, your skin too tight. you're acutely aware of every place her body touches yours, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.

"i need—" you start, but can't finish. mel's hand tightens on your waist for a fraction of a second before you pull away. you gesture vaguely toward the floor, not meeting her eyes. "sorry, i just—"

you don't wait for her response, practically stumbling down the booth steps. the crowd that had been watching your dance parts easily, perhaps sensing your urgency. you hear the next dj's tag start to play—some remix of a taylor swift song—which means mel's set is over. which means she might follow you. the thought makes you move faster.

you trip over your feet, your heel catching on the bone of your ankle as it lifts and you fall. your knees crack against the ground, but you regain your momentum. your neck is warm and you lift your hair with one hand as you spin, eventually locating the flickering neon sign denoting the bathroom.

the bathroom is mercifully empty when you burst in, all perfectly-cut marble and deep blue lighting that makes your reflection look expensive and almost admirably tragic. you press your palms against the cool counter, letting your head hang down as you try to steady your breathing. the bass from the club thrums through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat.

“you’re always so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, watching a tear splash onto the marble. you'd let yourself get carried away, let yourself pretend. but mel is mel. this is the girl who turns heads when she walks into rooms, who has fashion houses begging to dress her, who could have anyone she wants. and you're just… someone else.

her best friend, you suppose. the girl who’s responsible for holding her hair back when she's sick, who listens to her practice sets, who loves her so strongly that it feels akin to having a spear sunk through your chest.

the bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and you know it's her before she speaks. you can smell her perfume. it’s something custom-made in paris, a mix of lily, amber, and caramel. you don't look up.

"hey," mel says softly, and you hear the click of her heels on the marble floor as she approaches. "what happened up there?"

you close your eyes, trying to ignore how the marble feels like ice beneath your palms, how your body still burns where she touched you in the booth. "nothing happened, melly. i just needed some air."

you use your nickname for her as a way to disarm her, but mel has always been immovable when it came to getting something that she wants. the silence that follows feels incredibly long, but you know it hasn’t even been ten seconds. you lean forward, splash water on your face. blindly, you search for a paper towel but you’re handed a small hand towel instead. your makeup transfers onto the fabric, staining it with the traces of your exhaustion and loneliness.

"[name], look at me." her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when she knows you're lying. when you don't move, you hear her sigh, the sound followed by the soft rustle of feathers. then her hand is on your shoulder, turning you around.

she's closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the individual glitter particles scattered across her collarbones, catch the faint sheen of sweat at her temples from performing. the peacock dress seems alive in the bathroom's soft lighting, each feather shifting with her breath. you try to step back, but the counter prevents your retreat.

"you were crying," she observes, reaching up to brush her thumb beneath your eye. her touch lingers longer than necessary, and you hate how your body betrays you, leaning into her hand like a flower seeking sun. "why were you crying?"

"i wasn't," you lie, even as another tear escapes. "it's just the vodka. you know how i get."

"yeah," she says, and now both her hands are cupping your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are dark, intent, stripped of their usual playful gleam. "i know how you get when you're drunk, and this isn't it. this is something else."

you try to laugh but it comes out choked. "melly, please—"

"when you were up there with me," she interrupts, one hand sliding down to rest against your neck, her thumb pressed gently against your pulse point, "what were you thinking about?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with possibility. you can feel your heartbeat racing beneath her thumb, wonder if she can feel it too. the bathroom suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. somewhere outside, the music has changed to something slower, more intimate. the bass line crawls up through the floor and into your bones.

this is how love always finds you, corners you. it's a snake that's flat enough to slide underneath the door. you always watch it passively as it slides up your body, only crying out when it bites.

"i was thinking," you start, then stop, swallowing hard. her eyes track the movement of your throat. "i was thinking about how great you were tonight, how—how beautiful you are. ‘nd i was thinking about how some things can look real without being real. like stage lights. or club nights. or best friends who—"

you cut yourself off, but her grip on your neck tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. the feathers of her dress brush against your thighs, a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

"or best friends who what?" she prompts, her voice low, almost dangerous. she's close enough now that you can feel her breath against your lips, can smell the champagne she'd been sipping between sets.

the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the club surging in, and you both freeze. mel doesn't move away, doesn't drop her hands. instead, she leans closer, her lips brushing your ear.

"we're not done with this conversation," she murmurs, the words a promise that distills heat through your body. "come on."

she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the look in hers makes your knees weak. you open your mouth to respond, but—

the bathroom door swings shut again, leaving you both in that suspended moment. your "okay" comes out barely above a whisper, but she hears it. of course she hears it. she’s always heard you, even when you chose not to speak.

♤

the ride home is thick with unspoken words.

mel's driver, marcus, keeps his eyes professionally forward as you slide into the back of the bentley, the leather seats cool against your bare legs. mel follows, close enough that the feathers of her dress spill over onto your thigh. neither of you speak, but her pinky finger finds yours in the darkness between your bodies, hooking together like you used to do in university when one of you needed grounding.

london slides past the tinted windows in a blur of neon and shadow. you watch the reflections of passing streetlights play across mel's profile, catching the sharp edge of her jaw, the elegant line of her neck. she’s removed her performance jewelry, but missed a spot of glitter near her ear. without thinking, you reach up to brush it away.

she catches your wrist before you can retreat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point again. the car feels smaller in a matter of minutes, the air between you charged with electricity. she turns to fully face you, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she can slide your pointer finger into her mouth. the suck of her lips is gentle, tender. you watch her head bob as she slides down further, then pulls off.

she doesn't let go of your wrist for the rest of the ride.

when the car pulls up to her mayfair townhouse, you feel like you're moving through a dream. the click of her heels on the steps echoes in the quiet street. to you, they're like gunshots and you have the irrational thought of the neighbors coming out to complain, to tell you that your desire is choking them in the same way you feel now. your own steps are less sure, thanks to the martinis and the way your whole body seems to be humming with anticipation.

she fumbles with her keys briefly, something you've never seen her do, and then you're inside. the door closes behind you with a soft click that seems to echo in the darkness. neither of you move to turn on the lights. the moonlight filtering through her floor-to-ceiling windows is enough to see by, casting everything in shades of silver.

she looks unreal, like a figment of your imagination. you pinch the inside of your thigh, letting out a hiss of air from in-between your teeth. she moves closer, fingers the indentation where your nails had dug into the skin.

you shake, but she only steadies you.

"melly," you start, but she shakes her head, settling both hands on your waist.

gently, she maneuvers you until your back meets the wall. a hand lifts to settle at the base of your neck, her lithe fingers threading into your hair so that she can cup the back of your head. she’s making sure your head doesn’t hit the stone, sacrificing her own skin to ensure your comfort. the thought makes you warmer than before.

mel watches your face, her eyes almost erratic as she searches for whatever sign she needs. she comes flush against you and your legs part instinctively to make room for her, spread to accommodate the whole of her.

she lowers her head, mouth coming to burn against your neck as she presses a kiss there. you let out a small, weeping sound as if her lips have enabled a release inside of you. in a way they have. you soften, melt into her and find the strength to touch her.

your hands grasp at mel’s neck and she hums in satisfaction, working her teeth into the meat of your neck like a vampire. she pulls back only to look down, freeing a hand from your waist to inch the hem of your dress up.

you moan brokenly as you grow more exposed, your cunt wet against the baby blue lace that holds it. the moonlight sneaks between the both of you and renders the fabric practically translucent, the blue so light in its glow that it seems closer to white.

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” mel whispers and you blink at her, your throat tight. “you always say it about me, and i never understand it. when i look at our pictures, i don’t see anyone else.”

your eyes slip low, going tender, and you cup her face.

“you’re perfect, mel.”

“i guess we’re a good match,” she murmurs and then she’s in you.

the motion is so smooth, so quick. you hadn’t realized she’d peeled the fabric of your panties back, pushed them to the side. you know nothing now except for the steady pump of her fingers. there are two working deep into the heart of you, searching and spreading your slick heat.

you cry out, eyes wide like a doe’s. mel only smiles, predatory and slow. her teeth gleam, two rows of perfect pearls. you feel out of your body, but she brings you back in with every stroke inside of you. her breathing is becoming heavy, labored. her eyes seem a little wild and the hand on your neck moves briefly to squeeze tightly at your waist until you let out a deep “unh.”

mel grins again at the sound and it makes you surge forward, crushing her mouth into a bruising kiss. you bite at her bottom lip until she opens and lets you in, your tongue lapping all over as if to consume her. she slips a third finger inside of you, curling at the walls of your cunt to make you clench down.

you continue to kiss her, tilting your head so that angle is better. you slot together perfectly and she moans into your mouth, increasing the speed of her thrusts. you break away from her and study her face, taking in the way her lip gloss is smeared wickedly around her mouth. her lips are swollen and dark and she takes one in between her teeth as she works deeper into you.

your head falls back and she returns her hand to the nape of your neck, catching you before you can hit the wall.

“you’re okay, mama,” she murmurs and you nod, eyes focused somewhere distant on the ceiling.

she knows how you get, how disassociative you can become when you’re overwhelmed with emotion. she watches as you go somewhere she’s unable to follow. your chest heaves with every exhale and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your tits, then another right in the middle of them. her mouth is dusted with glitter when she pulls away.

you fuck down on her hand, an animalistic moan crawling from somewhere deep in your chest. mel fucks you harder, grunting as she shifts you bodily up and down with the effort. you keen as she uses her thumb to rub your clit, the circles tight and concentrated. pleasure arcs white and hot up your spine and you close your eyes, mouth falling open silently.

“that’s it,” she says. “come on, baby. come on.”

“mel,” you gasp and she laughs lowly.

“what happened to melly?” she teases and you whine, a foot kicking out as she presses against your g-spot.

“melly, please,” you whisper. “fuck, please.”

“please what?”

"just please.”

nothing changes. she only watches you squirm and beg like a whore, her face impassive. it was moments like these where you were reminded of her mother. the thought sends another shot of arousal to your cunt and it drools down mel’s wrist, sticky and warm.

“mel, fuck. fuck, i can feel it. i’m almost—i’m right there. just please, baby.” you’re crying now, disoriented and breaking apart with every push of her fingers. “please. please, melly, please."

you drag your eyes from the ceiling to her face, your pupils dilated and bright like stars. her face suffers through a range of emotion before she curses and yanks her fingers out of you.

“no,” you sob, and she sushes you.

“just hang on a minute, mama. hold on,” she soothes, her hands coming to lift you from beneath your thighs.

mel moves quickly and you take comfort in the fact that she needs this as much as you do.

you find yourself draped over the couch, your stomach resting on the arm of the chair. there’s a slight application of pressure as mel forces you into an arch, your ass and cunt pushed up. she nudges your legs apart and then gets on her knees, her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs as she leans in and puts her mouth on you.

“oh,” you moan and she hums into you.

she’s methodical and precise, her tongue slipping into the mix and filling you as best she can. her pace increases as she licks you front to back, twisting so she can suck and nip on your clit. you let out a high mewl as she grips the plush flesh of your ass, rocking you slowly until you’re able to continue the rhythm on your own.

the heat returns, spirals up from your stomach into your chest and throat. you whimper, letting your head fall forward and down. your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on riding her face, swiveling your hips in small circles to better grind your clit against her nose.

again you can feel it, that call to somewhere distant. mel feels the way you tighten around her tongue, the sudden stiffening of your thighs. she knows you’re just there, right at the golden gate of your private paradise so she removes her mouth and focuses completely on stimulating your clit with her fingers.

“mel,” you breathe. “melly—”

“i know, mama. you can do it. cum on my face. cum all over me, princess. mess me up, hmm?”

you reach down and she reaches up, instinctively understanding what you’re aching for. just as your fingers intertwine, you fall apart. your arch drops and mel hums, closing her eyes as you squirt over her. she can feel you trembling and she opens her mouth lazily, letting your cum drip into it as if it was some sort of sacred rain.

her fingers lace with yours properly now, no more tentative pinky holds. you grip back with the strength of a soldier at war, your eyes rolling shut as you hump against her face and ride out your high. mel only lets you use her, dragging her other hand down to grope at her throbbing pussy.

eventually, you settle and she tugs you down so that you’re sitting dazed and lax in her lap. her hands squeeze your ass as she noses at your cheek, slipping a light kiss onto your cheek.

"hey. hey, baby, look at me. are you with me?”

“ye—yeah,” you get out. “‘m with you.”

“let’s go upstairs," she says softly, and it's not quite a question. "unless—"

"yes," you interrupt, squeezing her hand. "yes."

mel makes no move to get up, however, and you watch her face.

“melly?”

"i need you to know," she says, a hand coming up to trace your jawline, "that whatever happens next… this isn't just because. this isn't just because we were dancing, or drinking, or—"

"i know," you whisper, even though you don't, not really. but you want to believe. god, how you want to believe.

mel shifts, tilts you so that you’re on your back. her braids have fallen from her signature bun, and they block out the little light spilling in from the window.

“baby, i want you. i love you, i need you, and i can’t—i can’t tell you enough how much i’ve wanted this. nothing matters to me more than you.”

“i know, melly. trust me, i understand.”

she shakes her head, opens her mouth. you lift a hand, dig your nails into the sides of her throat as you clutch at it for just one second.

“i understand.”

it feels like she’s been the only thing on your mind since the day you were born. you’ve been waiting for her ever since.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

[maniculum]

This resonates with me as my extended family has a similar fixation on preserving family names — though they’re not as creative with it, I have to say. There’s no Roy-Emmet-Jack rotation or first-syllable approach, just “well whose name hasn’t been passed on to the next generation? great, that’s the baby’s name now.” And nobody’s as bad off as poor Breathnach Thomas.

I have a couple cousins with unusual or old-fashioned names that get funny looks — I’ve had multiple exchanges along the lines of “your cousin WHO? did you mean [more common name that kinda rhymes with what I said]?” “no i did not.” A bunch of us go by our middle names for one reason or another. Two of my cousins-once-removed have entirely normal, common first names that I genuinely don’t remember because they’ve been referred to by their middle names since infancy despite those middle names sounding like last names. I have one cousin whose first & middle names are both common but also firmly gendered in different directions: I won’t dox them, but it’s along the lines of “Frederick Jane Lastname” because there was a traditionally-female name that needed to be given to someone and the only available baby was AMAB. My sibling ended up joining the “go by the middle name that sounds like a last name” crew a while back, but that was for gender reasons.

I’ve got one of the more inconvenient-for-paperwork names, actually, which I’ll explain under a cut because I ended up going on a bit.

See, my grandfather was named after his maternal grandfather. And his mother had changed her name when she got married, but wanted to give her son his grandfather’s full name, so he ended up with two middle names. Firstname Middlename Maidenname Lastname. Nobody really liked the sound of “Firstname”, though, so he always went by Maidenname Lastname. Then he named his son the same thing, who named his son the same thing, so I’m Firstname Middlename Maidenname Lastname III. All of us agree that Firstname isn’t a good one, so we all go by variants of Maidenname Lastname. (Which means we’re all also on Team “Middle Name That Sounds Like A Last Name Used As A First Name”.)

The maiden name in question — I’ve almost certainly mentioned on the podcast what “Mac” is short for, but rather than dox myself in a text post, let’s say it’s “McKenzie”. Convenient in that it contains two syllables that are at least semi-normal names. So my grandfather always shortened it to “Mac”, and then to differentiate, rather than use one of the other surplus names, my father went by [not actually] “Ken”. My father once told me that he pitched the idea of using the last syllable for me (not actually “Zie”, but something else that in no way passes as a standard name) but was vetoed, so I’ve always been another Mac.

You would be surprised how many forms, both physical and electronic, are against the idea of two middle names. I’ve seen my second middle name squished into my first middle name to make a single word, or hyphenated with my last name, or just deleted — which is unfortunate because it’s the one I actually use. (I fully agree with my father & grandfather that “McKenzie Lastname” is the best-sounding use of our nomenclature inventory.) So I’m constantly explaining to various bureaucrats that yes, this thing that says “Mac” is referring to me, I know your system says my name is Firstname, but I go by my middle name (a practice that is in itself apparently less common than i always thought growing up) — it’s short for McKenzie — yes, I know that your system doesn’t say my middle name is McKenzie, it wasn’t designed to handle four-part names and just deleted that one — yes i’ll hold.

When I was younger, I wanted to change my name to get away from the problem — my idea was to just chop off both the first name and the last name, then I’d have the entirely normal-sounding Middlename McKenzie — but never got around to it, mostly because I was also worried that a name change could just multiply my paperwork complications. Once I’d committed to an academic career, though, I kind of came around on it, because if I just use the first two names as initials, “X. X. McKenzie Lastname” turns out to look pretty good as an author name on papers & such.

The latest paperwork issue has been how this interacts with my current employer’s “preferred name” form. It doesn’t let you enter a full preferred name (like “X. X. McKenzie Lastname”) and say “okay use that one”, and it doesn’t have a “just use my middle name for everything” option. So it turns out that the only way HR could get the system to call me “McKenzie Lastname” was to tell the computer my name was actually McKenzie Middlename McKenzie Lastname. I’ve decided to live with it.

Random question, could you give some ideas on Irish names your family may have in the 1950-60s? I got a character with an Irish grandpa with 9 brothers and sisters (3 brothers and 6 sisters) and I only got the oldest sister name (soairse) and his name (Caine). I guess I could just name the rest some form of jack and Margret since those seem to be popular, but I wanted to see if there were some “interesting” names you found in your family tree that maybe one of the siblings got named after some ancestor?

Firstly for the sake of clarity: I'm American, not Irish. All of my ancestors for the last 4-5 generations have lived here, and while I like learning about the language/music/culture, I am absolutely not an expert. I HIGHLY recommend getting a sensitivity reader, I'm sure someone in the comments can wave at you if they're willing to take on the job.

Second, Triple-check the spelling, pronunciation, meaning and provenance of any names you do choose, and ABSOLUTELY DO NOT TRUST ANY BABY NAME WEBSITES, they're basically all AI slop at best. The best written-down lists and meanings are actually on Wikipedia.

Third: If you want to learn more Irish names, you can look up the names of like, any Irish musician or artist. I think spotify still has Genre Playlists, if you look up "Irish Folk" you'll get a shitload of names of Real Irish people- and hey, if Hirohiko Akari can name all his characters after 80's pop bands, you can make a subtle ref to modern musicians. Also you'll get a bunch of fun music! --- So while I was writing this, I somewhat departed from the intent of this response, and am putting the last point under a cut because the post got long. And weird.

So there is a thing in Irish-american families, and I think it's true in the British isles still where there are "Family Names", where the same set of first names is recycled over and over and over across generations. My dad's family has exactly three male names that they rotate through over the generations: Roy, Emmet and Jack*. In that order, where the son takes the father's first name as his middle name. My great-grandfather was Roy Jack Surname, my grandfather was Emmet Roy Surname, and my dad is Jack Emmet. My sister and I were AFAB, so the names skipped us and my male cousin in my generation is now Roy Jack. In the event that there are more than three living men with the same surname in the family, that's when they start reaching for the Given Names Of In-Laws We Like and might introduce a new name into the lineup.

*Names changed for privacy above and hereafter, but you get the idea.

So if any of your characters are descendants of that grandpa? They may share a first or middle name with one of his siblings. in fact, they may share the SAME first and middle name with a living relative, and be called "Junior" or "Young Firstname" to distinguish them from the relative they were named after.

My mom's family is from England and has a similar tradition: any new girl born into that family gets a name that is based on the name of one of her living female relatives, usually by sharing the same first letter or syllable. Elanor after Eloise, Vivian after Virginia, and also Jenny after Virgnia via 'Ginny' and every variation of Margret ever, which there are way more of than you'd think.

I cannot recommend doing what they did with Male names though: Name literally every boy Bob* for like five generations, and distinguish individuals by middle name (Bob-Howard and Bob-Benjamin) surname (Bob-Jones and Bob-Bailey) or Honorific (Captain Bob, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr.) when yelling out the kitchen window.

Most families have to good sense to not have the same name repeated in a generation, even if it has a shitload of nicknames. A mother and daughter might both be Margrets (with different nicknames), but two sisters or cousins wouldn't be.

If you've got in-laws you like, but their surname didn't carry over to their kids, you can also just use their surname as a first name! "Regan" is a first and last name, as are Riley and Bailey. This works out in some cases but not in others:

I have a pretty rare surname- last time I checked, there's only 14 people with it worldwide. It's similar to two other VERY COMMON Irish Surnames, but spelled different and from a different region. It's also Very Definitely A Surname- nobody would see my surname alone and think its a firstname.

Since I don't want to bandy it about, we'll pretend that it's "Breathnach", which has a similar vibe.

My Iowa family is Enormous and all descended from my Great-Aunt Lilyanne, Emmet-Roy's sister. Being a good catholic girl, Lillyanne took her husband's surname when she married, and most of her descendants still have that surname, and none have Breathnach.

After the last of my grandfathers grandchildren were born my Iowa family was sad- all but one of Emmet-Roy's grandchildren was female, and my male cousin has his father's surname. Assuming that we would all marry and take our spouses names, the Iowa family despaired that that the Breathnach name would die out!

So one of my second cousins decided that she would Carry On The Family Name, by giving it to the son she was carrying as a Firstname.

Yeah.

Being "Breathnach Surname" is bad enough, but this was compounded by the fact that the Iowa family's surname is Thomas.

YEAH.

My poor cousin Beathnach Thomas, who always has to re-do his paperwork because NOBODY ever puts the names in the correct boxes, who had his first name printed on every jersey he ever had because the uniform place went "that can't be right!", who cant buy his own beer because he's had so many drivers licenses confiscated because liquor store owners and bartenders think his ID is a fake, who has to not only spell his name to everyone he meets, but explain it too.

Then I made it worse.

I ran into cousin Beathnach in Bozeman, Montana quite by accident a few years ago, and while catching up, I mentioned that I was married.

"You know, it's a real hassle, but I'm kind of glad I've got the name I do. I'd heard you sister changed her name, and now with you married- I'd be sad to think we were running out of Breathnachs, you know?" he laughed.

I had to explain.

I married the most wonderful man in the world, who has an extremely common first and last name. Which was kind of a problem, because he shares it with some truly rotten people that always come up during background checks and he has have to explain he's not THAT asshole. It also sounds like and is only a letter or two off a lot of other very common names so his mail is constantly sent awry.

My husband will shortly abandon his too-common-for-comfort surname and become the newest Breathnach, taking the total to 15 (the paperwork takes a while).

...So the name lives on through us anyway, and poor cousin Breathnach Thomas went through all that for no reason. He got very quiet, got up from the table and walked outside to the veranda of the restaurant we were in to stare into the picturesque scenery for a while.

"Well, it's not like people change their first names..." he sighed, when he returned to the table.

"...You know how my sister changed her name? She only changed her first name. She's still a Breathnach." I explained quietly.

I've never seen a man look so haunted.

"I know lots of people who've changed their first names, actually. Mostly for transgender reasons, but a bunch because they just didn't like the one they were given." I added, because if he's going to get his world turned over, it's best to flip it all at once.

His brow furrowed at the ponderous speed of a continental collision, approaching the idea with caution. "...I'll have to think about it."

It's been about a year, but since then, I'll get a text from him every few weeks, auditioning a new given name. I do my best to be fair- I give him the meanings of those names, how they're likely to be misconstrued (some are tolerable annoyances, some pose a safety risk), and if he'd be sharing that name with anybody notable or troublesome. The first few were clearly based on Breathnach, but he began to branch out, and the trend of names has indicated that the idea of Naming Himself is causing my cousin to examine himself, and come to some Realizations (TM).

I realize I have gotten completely off-topic from your actual ask, but I urge you to really get into the nuance of nomencalture, because a name can tell a fascinating story.

[mejaemin]

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

valentine boy

˚ʚ jeong jaehyun ɞ˚

final day of my valentine’s day countdown!

wc ♡ 1.9k

summary ♡ it may be jaehyun’s birthday, but he still likes to celebrate you, and does so in the form of four love letters.

warnings ♡ suggestive, fluff, SO MUCH LOVE IT’S DISGUSTING, jae is SUCH a sap and SUCH a romantic in this, my heart hurts

lia's note ♡ happy birthday to my love, my light. i miss jaehyun so much, and he’s really so special to me. i couldn’t help but pour my heart into this, and i wouldn’t have it any other way

playlist 🎧 completely - jaehyun, best part - daniel caesar ft. h.e.r. , give you the world - steve lacy, sunny days - wave to earth

congrats to those who guessed jaehyun for day nine! @cigsaftersuh and @jae10velies are two very smart cookies 🌹🫶🏽

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

when you roll over in bed, first thing in the morning, you reach your hand out for your boyfriend, only to be met with nothing. popping one eye open, the bed is empty, the bed made on his side. sighing, you sit up, waking yourself up to go find him, when you finally notice the envelope laying on his pillow.

letter one ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘good morning my sweet thing ♡ happy valentine’s day.. if i’m not back by the time you wake up and open this, i went to visit my parents for a little. we’ve got a long day ahead of us, but mom wanted to see me for a little since, her words, “your birthday comes first, yuno! come visit your mom before you spend the day with your girlfriend.” i would’ve brought you, but you looked so pretty and peaceful while sleeping, and it would’ve ruined my plan, so i left you home. on that note, i know you told me not to do anything for you today, but i can’t help it :( spoiling you is my favorite, and it’s how i want to spend mine our day, okay? now, once you’re ready to get up, there’s something waiting for you in the bathroom…’

the ending of the letter is quite ominous, but it leaves a smile on your face nonetheless. you tell him every year to let you do all the gift giving, fully ready to discard valentine’s day and put his day first, especially when the former was made as a way for companies to gain money. still, he insists on celebrating you at the same time.

getting up out of bed, you make your way to the bathroom to get ready. as soon as you walk in, there’s another envelope taped to the sink mirror. pulling it out of the way, you set it aside to get yourself ready. the whole time you’re washing your face, brushing your teeth, you have to stop yourself from smiling at the idea of what’s to come later on in the day. jaehyun’s always been a loverboy, to an almost poetic extent, and upon looking at the letter sitting next to you, you’re sure there’s more to come, and you can’t wait to read all the loving words he’ll say to you. once done, you take the letter and sit back down on the bed to read it.

letter two ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘now that you’re opening this letter, i’ll assume you’ve woken up then? good, because i’ll be back in the afternoon to start our day. i wish i could be there to get ready with you, watch you open your first gift, but since i can’t, why don’t you check the closet? i’ve picked something out for you that i know will look perfect on you. i can’t wait to see it on you, and confirm my prediction. i can envision it now, you’d look so beautiful in that dress, it’ll compliment you perfectly.. okay, i have to stop now, or i’ll have a problem. anyway, enjoy your outfit my love ♡‘

with a smile you go over to your shared closed excitedly, pulling the door open and flicking the light on to reveal a beautiful dress in your favorite color right at the front of your clothing rack. pulling it off the hanger you immediately get dressed in it, stepping back to look at it on in the mirror. it’s fits perfectly, complimenting your body shape in all the best ways. when you look back in the closet for shoes to pair with it, there’s another envelope on the floor that you must’ve missed.

letter three ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘you’re getting dressed now, aren’t you? i hope you like the outfit. if not, don’t worry, we can get something else when we go out, okay? don’t stress. now, i’ll be wrapping up with mom pretty soon, so why don’t you finish your routine, okay? do yourself up however you like, in whatever way makes you feel prettiest. i’ll love it regardless. when you’re done, there’s something out in the kitchen, okay? i love you so much, baby. enjoy.’

with a soft giggle, you sit down at your vanity and start putting yourself together. even in the letter, jaehyun always reminds you of how much he loves you, in every form that you can take. he always uses the gentlest and most loving language he can, holding your heart with the most care. his love is so strong that when you fix your hair and do your makeup, you don’t feel a need to try too hard, doing the bare minimum, and thanks to him, you feel good about yourself just like that.

with the final touches of your appearance done, you grab your phone off the charger and check it for the first time today before you do anything. without fail, jaehyun’s texted you a string of good morning messages and words of love. you of course send some in return, thanking him for the letters and lightly teasing him for being a sap. you share a laugh before you shut the device off, making your way to the kitchen where your jaw drops.

there’s an entire display on the kitchen counter, rose petals scattered over the granite with a full bouquet in the middle, a bundle of prada gift bags sitting next to it. there’s a teddy bear as well, and one final letter with a card propped open next to it, reading ‘will you be my valentine?’ with the most perfect penmanship. you snap a photo, sending it to him with your reply, an obvious yes, before opening the last letter.

letter four ♡˚₊‧⁺˖

‘again, happy valentine’s day my love! i hope you enjoy all the gifts i put out for you. i know what you’re thinking, by the way. you’re mad that i’m spending money on you when it’s my birthday, aren’t you? if i were to tell you i’m sorry, i’d be lying, and that’s just not something i can ever see myself doing to you. more than anything, today is a day of love, and i’d rather celebrate us than make it all about me. my birthday wish is to keep you by my side and love you forever, every inch of you, and it just so happens that the day of love is at the same time. now, may i tell you why i love you so deeply?

we’ve known each other forever, and i’ve seen you grow into a beautiful, beautiful woman, with a wonderful personality that can warm an entire room. your laugh is more beautiful than any song i’ll hear in my life, and your smile is so bright, blinding in a way that makes me never want to look away. i’d let my eyes burn to nothing if it means i can continue to see it. i love the way you carry yourself as well, so thoughtful and considerate to everyone around you. you have so much love and kindness in your heart, and i’m so lucky to be a recipient of it. i’ve learnt so much from you as well, and i’m so grateful for the person you’ve helped shape me into. you’re truly everything i’ve ever wanted and more. i’ll cherish every piece of you that you give me with my whole being, and i promise to never let it go. my love for you is unconditional, and i’ll trace every ridge, scar, or imperfection in your body with nothing but adoration because it’s all perfect in my eyes.

i’ll save the rest of my sentiments for when i can say it out loud, okay? save you some reading. for now, remember that i love you with everything i have. happy valentine’s day, my love, my sweet, my peach.

-your forever only, jaehyun ♡’

his words are so beautiful, and you have to get a paper towel to hold to the corners of your eyes to stop the tears from messing up your makeup. he’s always so shy about things like this, getting flushed in the cheeks and ears at even the most simple words of affirmation. you know he’s a romantic at heart, but it still blows your mind every time you see him take a pen to help convey how he feels. he always lets his true feelings out when he has pen and paper, and it makes you cry without fail every single time. he really knows how to touch your heart, his words so sweet and loving.

you’re busy unboxing everything, a pair of sunglasses and a new bag in your hands, still letting his love letter sink in. you’re so stuck in your own world that you don’t even notice that jaehyun returned until his arms wrap around your stomach, his chest pressing into your back. his lips press against your temple, then your nape, and your eyes flutter shut as your body leans into his.

“happy valentine’s day.” he speaks softly, spinning you around in your barstool so you’re facing him.

your arms reach around his neck, pulling him closer so you can leave a sweet kiss on his lips. “thank you, baby.” you give him another one, “and happy birthday to you.”

he thanks you, pulling you flush to his body. you stay there, encased in his strong arms for what could be forever, you don’t know nor do you care, because it’s warm, safe, and comfortable. his head rests on top of yours, one hand gliding up and down the side of your body, the other on the back of your head. he’ll kiss your crown a few times, soaking in your scent, before pulling away.

your hands are intertwined, resting in your lap. “now that we’ve celebrated us, can it be your turn now?” you smile up at him, and his face is full of love.

his cheeks turn rosy, and he nods. you’re immediately up and out of your seat, shuffling your way into your bedroom where you pull out a birthday themed gift bag and box, followed by a valentine’s day basket. he opens them, overjoyed to see a photo album with a collective of polaroids from the past year, along with a new vinyl for his collection. the basket has a bunch of candies and small trinkets, along with a stuffed animal of the animal you’ve always said represents you. his smile reaches his ears as he looks through all his gifts, and a billion kisses are left all over your face as a thank you.

even more happiness fills his eyes when you take his cake out of the fridge, lighting the silly cartoon candles and singing to him. when you finish, he’s very thoughtful as he blows the candles out. you share it together, small enough to have in one sitting before putting all your new items away to finally head out for the day. he continues to treat you the entire time you guys are out, buying nearly everything you touch and complimenting you for even the littlest things. he has so much love to give to you, and it’s not even because of the holiday, or his birthday. he conveyed it to you many times throughout his letters, that he’s constantly thankful for you and your presence in his life, regardless of the date or who’s being celebrated more. the love continues to show even when you go back home, wrapping up the day, when there’s yet another display on the bed that wasn’t there before, which he lays you down on and continues to give you all the love he has.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖♡︎˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ ˖₊˚♡˚

perm taglist: @chenlezip @coquettejunnie

[elllisaaa]

SHAMELESS - Y. JEONGIN

KINKTOBER DAY 24 - MUTUAL MASTURBATION

SUMMARY : you always had a soft spot for your best friend's little brother, maybe a little crush if you were honest. however, learning that he was still a virgin despite being this hot, you take it into your own hands to show him how it should be done.

-> pairing : best friend's brother!jeongin x fem!reader

-> words count : 4.2k

-> genre : smut

-> warnings : sub!jeongin x dom!reader, virign!jeongin & experienced!reader, slight age gap (reader is a bit older than jeongin), alcohol consumption, fingering, handjob, breast play, mutual masturbation, making out, lingerie, teasing, begging, dry humping, marked, dirty talk, use of 'good boy', oral (f. receiving)

+ the way i'm depicting jeongin does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction

-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.

-> masterlist | skz masterlist | kinktober 2024

All your friends knew you had a soft spot for Jeongin, even his own sister knew. You didn’t exactly know what it was in him that made it impossible for you to let him go, but your attraction was undeniable. At first, it was truly innocent - you just invited him sometimes to hang out for a while with you and your friends because the poor boy would often spend his weekends alone, and it wasn’t that bad to take him away from his games so he could share a drink or two with you before you left for the club. 

“- Your turn Jeongin, truth or dare ?

- Uh, I don’t know, truth ?”

The poor boy was always a little awkward when he didn’t have his first drink, but once he had loosened up, it was easier to have him admit some things and he actually enjoyed these little hangouts. You were getting ready with his sister and one of your other friends, sitting in the living room with bottles of alcohol and juice opened and ready to make a new drink at any moment. As you focused on doing both wings of your eyeliner the same way, your friend asked her a question. 

“- When was the last time you had sex ?

- Ew, I don’t want to know that ! He’s my brother.

- Come on, you’re not fun ! Go away then, I wanna know. And I’m sure Y/N wants to know too.”

You rolled your eyes at her, and you avoided everyone else's gaze as focused on your own face reflecting through the mirror of your eyeshadow palette as you put the finishing touches to your makeup. The slight buzz of alcohol was already getting to you, and you didn’t feel as embarrassed as you would have normally been. But you could still sense Jeongin’s eyes on you, as if he was trying to understand what your friend meant. His sister covered her ears with her hands while he answered. 

“- Well, I- I’ve never had sex, actually so…

- What ? You’re still a virgin ? No way.

- This is too much !”

Your best friend left the room to go get dressed, but you couldn’t believe what you had just heard either. You had always assumed that he must’ve had at least one or two girlfriends, but you weren't expecting this. Jeongin’s cheeks had taken a deep shade of red - which was cute, you had to admit - as he shrugged, trying to keep some kind of composure and acting nonchalant while he took another sip of his drink.

“- I don’t understand why it is so shocking. 

- Well, look at yourself in a mirror. You might be my friend’s brother but I know a fine man when I see one. Right, Y/N ?

- Uh, yeah, she’s right.”

Your gaze lingered on Jeongin longer than it should have, but it seemed like he couldn’t detach his gaze from you either. You stayed looking at each other for a few seconds, before you broke eye contact with him. The way your heart was beating in your chest, and the way some kind of well-known heat was rising through your body definitely wasn’t something you should be feeling for your best friend’s brother. Soon enough, the subject switched to something else, and you were left alone with your thoughts and the feeling that Jeongin eyes couldn’t leave your figure as you picked up your things to put them in your purse before heading out. Everytime you would look back his way, he would simply avoid your gaze and focus on his phone screen or his drink instead, pretending that he wasn’t devouring you with his eyes a few seconds ago. 

At least, your clubbing session did make you feel good, the alcohol helping you relax and the loud music pushing every parasite's thoughts out of your mind for a moment. By the time you went back to your best friend’s apartment, it was already way past 5 in the morning. Your two friends went to crash in bed immediately, giggling and loudly talking nonsense. The sound of the door of her bedroom closing shut behind them drowned out their laughs as you smiled to yourself while getting out of your high-heeled boots. You could still feel the agreable rush of all the drinks you had but you were conscious enough to think about drinking a glass of water before going to bed too. As you were about to head to the bathroom to take off your makeup, you almost ran into Jeongin who was walking out of his own room, looking like he hadn’t slept at all. You giggled as you steadied yourself by grabbing his shoulders. 

“- Oops ! Sorry, didn’t see you !”

Jeongin's right arm slid down to your waist to keep you straight up. Truthfully, you didn’t really need it to stand on your feet, you were not that drunk. But you let his hand rest against the naked skin of the small of your back that your crop top revealed, his own warm skin heating up your hot one even more and making another sort of warmth run through your veins. 

“- It’s okay. Are you alright ? Did you have fun ?”

You nodded with a big smile stretching out your face to both questions, missing the way Jeongin’s eyes went down to your cleavage and then back up to your face every two seconds. He was trying so hard to not seem like a pervert, but the way you were allowing him to be so close to you, to touch you in a way that was way too intimate, that was driving him crazy. 

“- So much fun ! But I don’t understand how you can still be a virgin…”

The sudden change of subject caught him out of guard, and his cheeks took that same shade of red once more, and again, you couldn’t help but think that he was really cute when he was embarrassed like that. Would he have that same look on his face if you dropped down to your knees and sucked him off, right now ? Would he look at you the same way if you told him everything he had you fantasizing about ?

“- I- I don’t know, it’s just how things are ? Girls aren’t really interested in losers like me you know…”

You frowned as you considered his words. A loser ? Jeongin ? Sure, he spent a lot of time playing video games. But he also spent a good amount of time at the gym, and if only he showed off his biceps a little more, there would be tons of girls at his feet, begging for a chance to go on a date with him. Because he already had a cute face, and a cute smile, and pretty hands, and…

“- Well, they should really start to get interested in losers like you. Because I am. 

- W-What do you mean ? 

- I mean that you’re handsome Innie. Can’t you see that ? If it wasn’t for your sister, I would’ve made a move on you a long time ago.”

With each step you took closer to him, Jeongin took a step back, until his back hit the wall of the hallway behind him. His blush was even more visible now, and despite the pure shock in his eyes, there was also an underlying lust, a contained desire that you couldn’t wait to unleash. 

“- Y/N, I… 

- What ? Don’t you think I’m pretty too ? Don’t you want me Innie ?”

The poor boy gulped down loudly as he tried to not let the bulge slowly forming underneath his clothes become too noticeable. He didn’t really understand what was happening, if this was all a dream or not, but he wasn’t going to miss his chance in either case. 

“- Fuck… I’ve wanted you since she introduced you to me.”

A smirk spread on your lips as you took one step forward again, your chest now pressed against his, making it impossible for him to escape - even though he didn’t want to - and also making it impossible to not look down at your boobs squished together in your ridiculously tiny top.

“- Then stop thinking. Let me show you how good it feels. 

- Please…”

This was the last word Jeongin managed to get out before you took a hold of his jaw and pulled him down to your lips to kiss him. His reaction was immediate, almost like it was a reflex : he took a hold of your waist, pressing your bodies together and his lips moved against yours hungrily, expressing all his frustration, all the longing through this kiss. You hummed against his mouth when one of his hands slid back up to angle your face differently, taking advantage of your appreciative noise to slip his tongue through your lips. You welcomed it gratefully, now fully making out with him in the middle of the hallway, his sister sleeping only a room away. When Jeongin finally let you go, you were both breathless, and the heat you felt had increased by ten.

“- Are you sure you’re still a virgin ? Because you’re a great kisser…”

He rolled his eyes at your question, annoyance written all over his face. You let out a yelp of surprise as he suddenly pushed you to his room. He didn’t have to do much effort to make you stumble back until you were sitting on his bed, proving once more that he was hiding a lot of muscles under his oversized pants and hoodies. 

“- Just because I never had sex doesn’t mean I never kissed anyone.”

You leaned on your elbows, exposing your curves to him as you tilted your head to the side, a smirk taking over your face. You loved how easy it was for him to switch up from his awkward and shy demeanor to someone a lot more confident - and you liked it either way. 

“- How far did you go then ?”

As you toyed with the hem of your black miniskirt, you saw his cheeks taking that shade of red again. Though, he couldn’t detach his eyes from the way you were slowly pushing the material higher and higher up your thighs, revealing more and more skin to his hungry gaze. 

“- I just… Kissed. And did a little foreplay.

- No need to be embarrassed, baby. We have all been there once.”

Jeongin gulped down again as he nodded, still watching intently as you left your skirt alone to go up to your chest, your hands cupping them over the material of your top. You let out a sigh of relief at the action, looking up at him as he was still standing up in front of you, the boner in his sweatpants now more than obvious. 

“- Did you do this ?”

Again, Jeongin nodded, eyes glued to the way you were squishing your tits together and hitching to do it himself, to feel the plushness of your skin under his hands by himself. You seductively smiled at him as you let one of your hands slide down in between your thighs, pressing your fingers against your clothed clit and letting out a satisfied hum.

“- And this ?”

This time, Jeongin shook his head. He was too entranced by the show you were putting on for him to be able to form sentences or even think about words anymore. If this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

“- Want me to touch you ?

- Fuck… Yes, please…”

You smiled at him in a much softer way as you patted the spot beside you on his bed, inviting him to come sit with you. Even if you just wanted to jump him, you wanted every step of the way to be enjoyable for him, show him how good sex felt. Jeongin obeyed right away, and you immediately straddled him. His hands instinctively went to hold your waist and looked up at you, waiting for your next command. 

“- Tell me if you want me to stop, tell me if it’s too much, yeah ?

- Yes.”

The way the words left his mouth so quickly made you smile again and you wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him into another heated kiss. The buzz of alcohol heightened every one of your senses, and the way you had craved this for a while paired with the way Jeongin was so eager to please you quickly made you sigh in pleasure against his lips. Jeongin drank every little sound you made, relishing in the way he seemed to be able to have such an effect on you. The kiss was slow, but intense and passionate, and he didn’t hesitate to deepen it when he felt like he needed more. And you let him find his own rhythm, let him set the pace. 

“- You really are good at kissing Innie…

- Really ? 

- Hm… With a little practice, you could become the best.”

What you implied didn’t go on a deaf ears and Jeongin shivered at the thought of this becoming a regular occurrence. He wanted that. He wanted it so bad. And his unfocused eyes were telling you everything you needed to know as he pulled you in for another long kiss. You experimentally moved against him, your still clothed cunt rubbing against his boner - to test his reaction - and a pleased whimper slipped past his lips, getting swallowed by your hungry mouth. 

As you started to slowly rock your hips against him, he strengthened his grip on your waist. His breath was getting shorter and you could feel his sanity slipping away. It was almost cute how sensitive he was, but mostly, it only increased your own desire to show him how good it felt to be touched by someone else, to touch someone else. 

“- Does that feel good ?

- Yes… Really good.

- You can touch me, Innie.”

Jeongin nodded, but you could see that he was still hesitant to move his hands away from the secured spot of your waist. You smiled at him as you took one of his hands in yours, slowly moving it up to your chest and letting it rest here without breaking eye contact even once. You could see the way his breathing hitched in his throat and you could see the way he was now unable to detach his gaze from your cleavage. He tentatively squeezed your tit, and you encouraged him with your hums of pleasure, a different kind of thrill rushing through your veins as Jeongin got more and more confident. 

Within two minutes of touching your boobs, he was shamelessly groping them over your top, his head buried in your neck, sucking hickeys on your skin without a care in the world for the marks it was going to leave. Your dry humping had intensified, way too turned on by the way he now seemed unable to stop having his hands on you. But you were feeling that urge to discover his body too, to know what he was truly hiding under all of his oversized clothes. So you gently pushed him away, biting your lips at the way he seemed so clueless, so gone, only wanting to bury his face in between your tits again. 

“- Was it not good ?”

A soft smile took over your face as you leaned down to kiss his pouty lips. It was really cute how he almost forgot about his own raging erection because he wanted to please you, to make you feel good too.

“- It was really good, Innie. I just want to touch you too, if that’s okay ?”

Jeongin nodded again, his brain still having trouble processing the whole situation as you pushed his shirt over his head, leaving his upper body exposed. His cheeks went red again as he saw you detail his chest, arms and abs. You said nothing for a few seconds, letting your eyes devour him first, and then running your hand along the toned muscles of his chest, down to his defined abs that tensed under the feather like touch. 

“- You’re so sexy… So handsome, I knew you were but damn…”

The compliment made him awkwardly chuckle, not really used to show off his body. He was working hard on it, that was true, but since he didn’t have someone to expose it to, he wasn’t hearing these types of praises everyday. And especially not from you, the girl he had a crush on and an insatiable lust for. 

“- Don’t be so shy, baby… You should get used to that.”

And again, your words had an underlying tone that let him think that it could happen again. But he didn’t want to get his hopes up, so he just let you do your thing as you explored the skin of his torso with your hands and the skin of his neck with your lips. And your overwhelming presence soon made him forget about everything that wasn’t what was happening in that moment anyway. Jeongin closed his eyes, not trying to hold back the small moans escaping him and letting you mark his body in hickeys too. By the time your hands reached the waistband of his sweats, he was already breathless and so hard it was starting to be painful. 

“- Is it still okay ?”

Your sugary sweet voice paired with the way you were playing with the hem of his clothes made him nod faster than he ever had. You chuckled under your breath as you let your fingers slip under his pants until you could reach his very hard cock. The first contact with your fingers had Jeongin moaning a little louder and his whole body tensing. And when you wrapped your whole hand around his length, slowly starting to jerk him off, he was definitely gone, definitely ready to drop everything to have you do this again and again. 

“- You’re doing so good for me Innie…”

A small, muffled moan answered your praises and you just smiled back at him as you sped up your rhythm a little bit. Any trace of alcohol in your system had definitely disappeared by now, your focus only on Jeongin and the way he reacted to your touch, the delicious sounds he was making and how good he looked when he was feeling good like that. 

“- Y/N… Let me touch you too, let me make you feel good too… Please…”

He was almost begging to have a glimpse of your pussy, and who were you to deny him. You pecked his lips in approval as you got off the bed to get rid of your underwear, keeping your skirt that was too complicated to get out of right now. You settled back over his thighs, grabbing his hand in yours and pushing his fingers in your mouth to coat them in your saliva. This was partly for lubrication, and partly because you had been dreaming about these hands for far too long to not do it now that you had the chance too. And Jeongin was just looking up at you as if you hung up the stars in the sky, as if you were a goddess, and you liked the confidence boost maybe a little too much. 

“- Let me guide you baby, yeah ?”

He nodded along again, letting you push his hands down from your lips to between your legs. He gulped as you pressed the pads of his fingers against your wetness, feeling what he assumed was the clit by the way you sighed in relief as you rubbed his hand against it. 

“- Just this much pressure is good for me, but some girls like it faster or slower, you have to ask.”

Jeongin listened to you,  but he didn’t dare tell you that he didn’t plan to use this knowledge with anyone other than you. The only things he wanted to learn about were how to perfectly please you, how to make you cum and want more, how to make you come back to him. So he made sure to perfectly follow your rhythm, not flattering when you let him move on his own and started to jerk him off again, this time pulling his cock out of his sweats. Suddenly, you wanted to go down on your knees and take him into your mouth because he did have a very pretty dick - and it wasn’t a compliment you threw around this easily. 

“- Are you feeling good ? Am I doing good ?

- Yes, you’re doing really good Innie… Wanna make me feel even better ?

- Yeah…”

His immediate and eager response despite the fact that he was obviously starting to leak precum all over himself made you smile again. You loved how curious he was, how willing to discover and to let you teach him everything he needed to know he was. You grabbed his hand again, halting the cautious circles he was drawing on your clit to push his fingers lower, having them barely grazing against your more than wet entrance. You both gasped at the sensation, and your back arched slightly when Jeongin took it up himself to push one of his fingers inside, just enough for you to feel it. 

“- Is it okay ? Can I… Can I do this ?

- Hm, yes… Feels good, don’t stop.”

His brows were furrowed in concentration as he made sure to be careful when he fully pushed his middle finger inside of you. The way you were clenching down around him made him wonder about how good it would feel to have you wrapped around his cock instead and he throbbed in your hand that was still moving slowly around his dick, reminding him of his own arousal. You encouraged him to continue what he was doing with your endless praises, and soon enough, he was confident enough to push another one of his fingers inside of you, mesmerized by the way you were reacting - mouth opening and letting out a moan, squeezing him in your hand and your hips grinding against his palm as if it was a second nature. 

“- Does it feel good ?

- It does, Innie. Stop worrying about me, yeah ? You’re being such a good boy…”

Jeongin was always the first to laugh in his friend’s face for being wrapped around their girlfriend’s fingers but he realized in that moment that he was about to become way worse than them. He whined and chased your lips, all of the pleasure rushing into his veins starting to get way too much for him to stay quiet. The way you chuckled before grabbing his jaw and bringing your lips down on his for a hungry, messy kiss had him whimpering even louder. You made him weak, and he loved it so much. 

Noticing how sensitive and squirmy he had become, you sped up your movements around his cock. The thrusts of his fingers inside of you were regular, almost too slow, but it was so different from what you were used to, almost like a calculated rhythm that was starting to get to you and get you wanting more of it. And it didn’t help that his fingers were so long, and that they were making you feel so full, you just had to grind against his palm to get a bit of friction on your clit. 

You were so entranced by the kiss that you barely noticed it when Jeongin’s body started to shake. It was only when you felt a hot spurt of cum landing on your hand that you noticed he was indeed cumming, a strangled moan escaping him as you kept up your rhythm. The way he seemed just as surprised as you was arguably very cute, and you kept stroking him slowly and kissing his lips until he tried to get away from your touch.

“- I-I’m sorry, I didn’t… I didn’t feel it coming…”

His embarrassment was coming back full force, and you were really, really starting to get addicted to how adorable he looked with his red cheeks and shifty eyes. You wiped your hand against your thigh, not caring too much for his cum before you grabbed his face, smiling at him while you tried to ignore the fact that his fingers were still stuffed inside of you even if he wasn’t moving them anymore.

“- Did it feel good ?”

Jeongin nodded and your smile only widened. 

“- Then never be embarrassed about having a good time baby. 

- But what about you ? You didn’t cum, did you ?”

You chuckled as you shook your head, placing another kiss on his pursed lips. You were thoroughly fucked. You knew you shouldn’t have started this at all, but now that you were here, you didn’t want to leave anymore. 

“- No, but it’s okay. I enjoyed watching you.”

There was a look of disappointment on Jeongin’s face as he looked up at you. He stayed quiet for a few seconds, as if he was trying to think about what he was going to do next, and before you knew it, he had you pinned underneath him, his larger frame hovering over you as his eyes were glued to your exposed cunt. Your squeal of surprise at his unexpected move made him look up at your eyes that were now pleading you.

“- Please, teach me how to make you cum. I wanna make you feel good too. I wanna… I wanna eat you out. Teach me.”

And how could you say no when he was so eager to learn, so eager to please you, so pliant when you pushed his head in between your thighs ? And from the way he was hungrily lapping at your folds, you were assured that your “teaching” wouldn’t stop there.

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts and translations of my works.

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[mountttmase]

Just For Us

Note - happy valentines pookies 🩷 I’ve been sitting on this one for a while so I hope you like it 😘 thank you to @saltyheartnightmare for always providing me with ideas and letting me run with them 😂 feedback would be appreciated xoxo

Pairing - Mason Mount × Reader

Word count - 6k

Warnings - fluff and angst

Another week over you told yourself as you shut your laptop down. Sighing as your eyes fell to the window that overlooked the garden next to you but it was pitch back outside and all you could see was your own reflection staring back at you. A tired and grumpy version of you that you were starting to not recognise.

You hadn't heard anything going on in the house, the time just ticking past 5pm and you knew you were still all alone in here. The thought of walking out of your home office into a dark and empty home upset you more than it should have, but then again everything was upsetting you at the moment.

Mason had promised he’d be here, letting you know that training would be over around 3pm and he’d make sure to get home at a reasonable time so you could spend your first valentines living under the same roof together, but once again he was nowhere to be seen.

You got why he was always in late, he was almost done with his recovery and had been staying later most evenings in order to get himself into a good place but you missed him and with everything else going on in your life right now all you wanted to was to be wrapped up in the arms of the man you loved.

You hadn't lived with Mason long, moving in at the end of November so you were approaching the three month mark but you felt like everything had taken a downturn for you since then. It was nothing to do with Mason himself, he was a dream most of the time and was looking after you just like he’d promised but it was everything you’d left home that was bringing you down.

Manchester was so far from everything you knew, having grown up in London you never envisaged living so far away when you had everything you needed right there but there was one thing your favourite city didn’t have anymore, and that was the boy you were in love with.

It wasn’t often you thought back to how you first met Mason, but since it was valentines day and you were in your feels a bit you let your mind wander back to that cold but sunny morning. It was your favourite type of weather on your favourite day of the year, pumpkin picking with your best friend, and as you reached for the last wheelbarrow your hand brushed against someone else’s as they did the same.

‘Oh shit, sorry. You take it, I can wait’ you heard, turning to your right to see quite possibly the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen and the sight of him filled you with nerves.

‘Oh n-no please you have it’ you stuttered, your face warming as your heart threatened to beat out of your chest but you could see the tops of his cheeks turning pink too and you thought he looked adorable.

‘It’s fine’ he laughed, motioning for you to take it but you knew you’d mess up somehow now if you had to try and get it out in front of him and you weren’t up for embarrassing yourself whilst he watched on.

‘No please, I’m not even sure I know how to use this thing properly and I’ll just end up taking someone’s legs out’ you joked and as you both shared a giggle, a worker came with a new batch of clean ones.

‘Here let me grab you one, these look smaller’ he nodded as he walked over to get one for you and you used the time he was facing away from you to give him a once over. You most definitely liked what you saw and as he turned back to face you, you wondered if he’d caught you staring at his bum. You gave him a warm smile though as he placed it in front of you but you were trying to stall as you still felt awkward pushing it in front of him.

‘Thank you…’

‘I’m Mason’ he smiled, nodding his head shyly before he gave you a look as if to silently ask what your name was and you had to swallow a nervous lump before you told him.

‘Y/n’

‘Well y/n, if you see me running away from you please don’t take any offence, I’m just protecting my ankles’ he joked and you covered your mouth with your hand as you laughed at his silly joke.

‘I’ll keep that in mind’

‘Mase? You coming’ you heard, looking over to a woman with two kids in tow and you felt yourself deflate. Of course he wasn’t single, look at him, and as he called over that he wouldn’t be a second you kept your eyes on the floor.

‘Sorry I best get going, I don’t wanna upset the nieces’ he laughed and your eyes flashed up to meet his. Relief ripping through you at the knowledge that was presumably his sister. ‘See you out there?’

‘I hope so’ you whispered. Your answer taking him by surprise a bit as his blush deepened but you just just picked up your wheelbarrow and went in search of your bestie so you could crack on with your day.

It was like you couldn’t get away from each other, him joining the line behind you for food, your eyes constantly catching as you browsed the little pumpkins in the wooden crates and once you’d made it out into the main field it felt like he was following you. Always in the same section and your friend had seemingly picked up on the way you kept looking at each other and would steer your wheelbarrow in his direction.

It was fun watching him play with the two little girls, posing for pictures with them and helping them pick out ones for them to carve and he looked as though he was having as much fun as them. Not caring how goofy or silly he looked, he just wanted to make them smile and from the constant giggles it was clearly working.

‘You need a hand with that one?’ You suddenly heard from behind you. Mason's voice shocking you slightly but as he brushed up next to you and you could tell he was looking at the same pumpkin you were.

‘Do you think it’s too big?’ You asked and you knew it was a stupid question. It was one of the biggest ones in the whole field but it was perfect and you just needed one person to tell you it was okay to have.

‘Nah, you need to measure pumpkins with your heart’ he told sincerely. ‘If you want it, I’d say get it’

‘You know what, you’re right. I’m having it’

‘Here let me’ he offered. Picking it up effortlessly and placing it in your wheelbarrow for you before dusting himself off as he was now covered in dirt be he didn’t seem to mind.

He stayed with you for a bit as you spoke. His sister had taken the girls to the loo so he had a few minutes spare and he started off by asking if you’d taken anyone’s legs out yet. Seeming dissatisfied when you told him no but there was always time and you were lucky enough to see that heartbreaking smile of his again as he laughed before he caught sight of the girls coming back.

‘You’re really good with them’ you told him honestly and you could see him getting shy again as he laughed nervously.

‘I don’t live round this way anymore so I like to make it count when I’m here’ he told you and you wondered how far away he was now. You knew you wouldn’t get to ask or find out though, your bestie was standing like a lemon a few steps away as she pretended to look at the pumpkins and with his family coming back over you presumed you’d be torn apart again but before he returned to them he faced you a little more ‘Listen, at the risk of sounding like a crazy person, I took a picture of you earlier and I was wondering if I could send it you?’

‘You what?’ You laughed, watching his cheeks redden more than you’d ever seen to the point the bridge of his nose was also glowing.

‘Sorry, I saw you posing for some your friend was taking and I just thought you looked nice and wondered if you’d want a more candid one’ he mumbled shyly. ‘Shit, sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. I can’t delete it if you-‘

‘I guess I should give you my number then’ you whispered with a smile, holding your hand out for him to place his phone in and the look of relief that washed over his face made you chuckle.

As soon as you handed it back he had to go but you knew it was coming so you bid him a quick goodbye and not even five minutes later you felt your phone buzz in your pocket

It was a fairly brazen comment from you, but it seemed to do the trick and the pair of you were messaging for the rest of the day and well into the night. All tucked up in bed later as you giggled into your pillow and when you got onto the topic of where he lived now, since he’d mentioned not being here anymore, things took a bit of a turn.

You’d had no idea he was a footballer, you had never met one in your life and had no idea what it even all meant but he told you he didn’t want you to think of him as any different than you had done earlier. He was still the same guy, he just has a slightly strange job compared to the average person.

He was right though, coming across to you as just like any normal guy and as the weeks passed you could feel yourself starting to slip under his spell. It was never your intention to speak to someone who lived so far away and you knew that seeing him again would be difficult, even if he wanted to see you anyway, but you couldn’t help your feelings towards him no matter how much you told yourself nothing would amount to anything.

You didn’t expect him to go in fully and dress up exactly like him but when he showed you his onesie on face time his enthusiasm excited you. You’d never had a boy to do a couples costume with before and you weren’t even sure he that’s what he wanted when he was asking for costume ideas but you’d decided to shoot your shot and thankfully it had paid off.

He was staying with a friend but just as he promised, he came to get you from your house. You thought it might be awkward, the pair of you only seeing each other in person once but as soon as you saw him again it was like no time had passed. Him knocking on your door fully dressed up and you giggled as he gave you a kiss on the cheek after a big hug.

You didn’t live too far away thankfully and after 20 minutes or so in the car with him, he was pulling up to his friends house. It was unlike anything you’d seen and you tried not to let it show that you were that impressed so you just took his hand and let him lead you through. You felt awkward instantly though as you looked around as it was full of gorgeous girls in barely there outfits whilst you stood there in a big pink t-shirt and your hair in bunches. Mason picked up on you straight away though and pulled you closer to him by your waist.

‘You good?’

‘You could have told me it was that type of party’ you laughed, hiding your face in his neck but he just squeezed you and bumped the side of your head with his nose so you’d look at him.

‘What do you mean?’ He smiled, rubbing your back a little bit as he was confused and you were finding it hard to be mad at him.

‘Mason, there are girls here who look like they’ve just stepped off a runway and I look like… well this’

‘You look perfect’ he whispered, kissing your forehead gently. Your cheeks warming instantly as even though he was being pretty touchy this was the first proper bit of intimacy you’d had from him. ‘I’m not looking at what anyone else is wearing anyway’ he reassured you and you felt your face heat even more at how lovely he was being.

His hand very rarely left yours and if it did it was just so he could hold your waist or wrap his arm around you and considering it was his friends party filled with people he didn’t see too often you were surprised at how much he didn’t want to mingle. That every conversation you joined you wouldn’t stay in long as he’d ask you something and soon enough you’d be in your own world again and when you asked him why he just smiled brightly.

‘I know those boring bastards, but I don’t know you yet. Not as much as I’d like to anyway’ he teased as his eyes flickered all over you and you felt your knees go weak as he bit his lip.

He was the perfect gentleman, getting all your drinks for you and letting you know he’d look after you. Mason himself wasn’t drinking as he wasn’t allowed but you noticed all his friends were and you figured it was just because he’d promised to take you home and was making sure he could. Mason seemed like the type to have a great time without drink though however you were thankful you’d had a few to loosen you up a bit.

As the night came to an end, you both knew you didn’t want to part but as you still lived with your overbearing parents it made things difficult. It had taken you enough time to convince them to let you come here tonight so staying out all night was completely out of the question and when the house began to empty out you knew it was time.

‘I think I need the loo before we go’ you told Mason, and his sad smile told you all you needed to know.

‘I’ll show you where it is’ he smiled, taking you by the hand upstairs and when he pulled open a random door and flicked the light on you were met with a bright and airy guest bedroom. ‘Just through here. Everyone’s been using the main one so this should be cleaner’ he laughed and you popped a quick kiss on his cheek as you passed by.

Once you were out you waited for him whilst he popped in there. Having a look at yourself in the mirror to make sure you looked somewhat acceptable and he was out quicker than you thought he’d be so he caught you checking yourself out.

He was quick to come over and wrap his arms around you from behind whilst taking his phone out of his pocket to hand to you. Instructing that he wanted you to take a few photos of the pair of you together to commemorate your first Halloween but soon enough you stopped taking any pictures and he was just holding you.

‘Come on’ he huffed. Removing his arms from around your waist and you could tell he was deflated just from the sound of his voice.

‘What’s wrong?’ You asked as you turned to him and the playful pout on his face made you feel a little bit guilty.

‘I’ve been dreading this part all night’ he chuckled, pulling you into his chest now so he could hug you properly and when he tucked his head into your neck you couldn’t stop your smile. ‘Sulley doesn’t want to say goodbye to his Boo’

‘Oh Mase’

‘Stay with me tonight’ he whispered, pulling back to look at you pleadingly and you almost gave in then and there. ‘Please, boo’

‘Mase.. I can’t’ you breathed, shaking your head ever so slightly. ‘I’m sorry-‘

‘No I’m sorry, I’m being way too forward. It’s just I’m not here long and I want to spend as much time with you as I can’

‘I want that too’

‘But?’

‘My mum will kill me’ you laughed, realising how ridiculous you sounded but Mason seemed to understand and quickly popped a kiss on your cheek. ‘Maybe I could come up to Manchester soon and visit?’ You asked, shock taking over his face at what you were suggesting and you were certain yours looked the same as you hadn’t even thought about the words before they’d come out of your mouth.

‘Yeah? You’d want to’

‘Yeah of course. I’ve never been before’ you told him and the smile he sent you made your heart race. ‘I just think it might be a bit too soon for you know … all that. I’ve never-‘

‘No you’re right’ he laughed as he cut you off. ‘Sorry I’ve just been getting a bit ahead of myself I think. I don’t know if I’ve made it that obvious but I really like you’ he told you as his cheeks flushed and you knew yours were doing the exact same.

‘Really? I had no idea’ you teased but you knew you needed to be honest with him too. ‘I like you too’

It was the longest three seconds of your life. Watching his eyes flicker down to your lips as he moved closer to you and you were powerless to stop anything. Tilting your face up to meet his and before you knew it his lips were on yours.

This wasn’t like any kiss first you’d ever had before. It was slow and sexy and you both hummed into each other's mouths as his tongue brushed against yours playfully. Your heart racing in your chest as he ever so carefully moved his lips against yours and you knew you’d never be the same again after this.

‘Come on, I’ll get you home’ he whispered against your lips after you’d parted but you felt deflated instantly. You didn’t want to leave him now, not after the best first kiss you’d ever had but you knew it was the right thing to do.

‘Are you sure it’s okay? You know-‘

‘I can wait. You’re worth it’ he confirmed quietly and you didn’t realise how much you needed to hear those words. ‘I mean I got to kiss you, that's more than enough for me. I’m just being greedy really’ he winked and your heart felt lighter as you both giggled.

‘You’re right, you need to be cut off’ you joked but when he lent down to kiss you again you let him.

y/n

liked by masonmount, ems35, lilyp28 and others

y/n Happy spooky season 🧡

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masonmount wow whoever took that first one has got a great eye 👀

y/n thank you my sulley 🩵💜

Going to Manchester to see him was the beginning of the end for you. You loved it up there and you loved your time with Mason just as much to the point you’d just sob the whole way home each time you had to leave him and you knew he was always just as down as you were about it. Each time it getting harder and harder to say goodbye so when next Halloween came and Mason wanted to celebrate your first anniversary together you jumped at the chance to spend some quality time with him.

Moving to Manchester after just a year of dating was a risk, and you both definitely knew it, but when Mason brought up wanting you to move in with him at your anniversary dinner you wanted to jump at the chance. You knew in your heart you were going to be with Mason for a really long time and the thought of starting your lives together up there really excited you. Your mum took it pretty hard but she knew you’d have to leave home eventually but neither of you could have guessed it would have been so far away.

You mostly worked from home in London anyway, only needing to visit the office twice a month so after a quick chat with your manager about different options, she told you keeping you was more important and that working in Manchester would be no different than London so she was happy for you to make the move.

Mason seemed to be the most excited. Letting you pick out any spare room you wanted to turn into your office and you picked the one at the back that overlooked the garden. The main reason being that in the summer you knew you’d be able to watch him training out of the window, but you told him it was because it was near the kitchen and downstairs loo so you didn’t have that far to walk.

It was lonely sometimes, spending all day at home on your own and when work was finally done not having anyone to talk to. At home at least your mum would be there so you could talk about your days as you fought over what to cook, but the house being empty did nothing to cure the ache of loneliness that would settle in your tummy until Mason was with you.

You hadn't been here long enough to make friends of your own and the ones you’d left behind did nothing to help you feel less lonely. Carrying on like you didn’t even exist and going to all your favourite places without you as well as new places you’d always wanted to try. You tried not to take it to heart too much as you didn’t want them to stop living their lives but you thought it was funny how as soon as you were gone they suddenly had time for all the things you wanted to do when they never had before.

Not wanting to be a grump for too much longer you quickly glanced at your phone when you were finally ready to get up. No text or update from him to let you know he was going to be home later than planned and usually it wouldn't have mattered but you thought with it being Valentine's Day he would have made a touch more effort as you were meant to be having dinner together. Your tummy hurt as your sadness migrated into every fiber of your being and you knew it wouldn’t be disappearing anytime soon.

All the lights were off when you eventually made your way out of your office. Traipsing through the silent house to the front so you could look out onto the drive, however it only upset you more to see that his car wasn’t there and suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. Wanting nothing more than to get into bed so you could sleep this awful mood away, but there was something that stopped you as soon as you made it upstairs.

You noticed the warm glow coming from the bathroom as soon as you reached the landing. The door was ever so slightly cracked open and you knew you hadn't left it like that so the light confused you. In the end you took a few cautious steps over so you could peek around the gap and the sight before you made your heart flutter.

There was Mason, hunched over the bath as he swirled his hand around the soapy water that was topped with rose petals. The scent of your favourite bubble bath filling the air as he checked the water temperature before he was standing back up and reaching for a lighter so he could continue to light the candles he’d set up in a row on the window. Watching and waiting until he’d grabbed a fresh towel to place on the warmer until you couldn’t help but open the door a little more and step inside.

You felt instant regret as soon as you did. This was clearly meant to be a surprise for you and you’d just marched in on him but the smile he gave you after the initial shock of seeing you made your eyes sting and as your face began to crumple, he was over to you in a flash.

‘What’s wrong, boo?’ He asked softly. Hands holding the tops of your arms as you tried to wipe your eyes but it was pointless as more tears came falling seconds after.

‘I didn’t know you were h-home’ you hiccuped, sounding completely ridiculous as you broke down into sobs, but just like always he took you as you came and listened intently. ‘I t-thought you’d be late a-again’

‘Well I’m a lot later than I wanted to be’ he told you softly. ‘I only got in about five minutes ago’

‘Where’s y-your car?’

‘I got a fucking flat tire, didn’t I’ he laughed but you could tell he was pissed off underneath. ‘Had to leave it at training cause I couldn’t get anyone out to fix it and then Luke dropped me home’ he explained before his face softened again and his voice came out in just a whisper. ‘Baby, tell me what’s wrong’

‘Sorry’ you blubbed. Covering your face with your hands again so you could hide yourself and thankfully he knew not to try and make you look at him. Simply wrapping his arms around your shaking body so he could pull you into his and when you felt his lips on your forehead shushing you gently you nearly lost it again.

He always knew what you needed, and right now all you needed was a big cry whilst he held you and whispered that everything would be okay until you found enough courage to take your hands away from your face and wrap them around his body.

‘You think I can’t tell that something’s been going on with you?’ He whispered, pulling back to look at you but when he realised you weren’t budging he just rested his cheek on the top of your head with a sigh. ‘I notice everything, boo’

‘I’m sorry’ you croaked, not even too sure what you were apologising for but it just felt like the right thing to say for hiding your emotions from him.

‘Don’t say that’ he told you as he squeezed you a bit tighter but you still weren’t ready to look at him. Holding him back just as tight as he rubbed your back and you could feel the love from him pour into you. ‘You gonna tell me what’s up?’

‘I don’t know, I just feel a bit down’ you mumbled, shrugging your shoulders as you wondered what you should say to him but you realised there was no point giving him half truths. ‘I've just been a bit homesick I think, it gets lonely in this house when you’re not here and I know you’ve been working really hard to get back into the team but I thought you’d forgotten about me tonight’

‘I’m sorry’ he breathed. ‘I know I haven’t been around as much lately and I know that hasn't helped with how you’re feeling. That’s why I wanted to get home early so I could do something nice for you and I couldn't even get that right’ he laughed. ‘And I know you miss your family, I miss mine too so I know how you feel and I know I’ve been a bit wrapped up in myself but I promise I’ll make it up to you. Starting tonight, yeah?’

‘What’s all this?’ You asked, finally pulling away as you could look at him and the sympathetic look on his face almost set you off again, but Mason was quick to kiss your forehead and look at you softly again.

‘Well I thought you deserved a bit of relaxation while I cooked for us’ he confirmed. ‘Happy valentines, boo’

‘Happy valentine’s, Masey’ you smiled, reaching up to give him a soft and sweet kiss. ‘What are you making?’

‘I’m not sure yet’ he laughed. ‘Any requests?’

‘Well I was hoping you would stay with me in here, I’ve missed you’ you told him shyly. ‘We can always order food’

‘Yeah? Okay let’s do that’ he nodded shyly. ‘C’mere, let’s get you in’

Mason helped to undress you so you were ready for your bath. Kissing your skin gently as he carefully removed each piece of clothing and helped you into the perfectly warm water as you felt all your troubles melt away into the bubbles.

He happily sat on the floor next to you as you chatted away and you finally opened up to him about how your friends had been acting with you lately as well as everything else you’d already mentioned. He sympathised with you as he sometimes felt that way himself and apologised for neglecting you for the last few weeks.

‘Come get in with me?’ You asked after 15 minutes or so, watching his eyebrows raise in shock as his cheeks turned pink but now you’d said it all you could think about was relaxing your body into his.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah why not’ you laughed. ‘I wanna feel close to you’ you pouted and you could see his blush deepening from a mile off. Watching him gently standing up so he could whip his clothes off and you shuffled down the tub a bit so he could slide in behind you.

You didn’t ask for it, but as he began to massage your shoulders you could have melted into the water. You didn’t realise how uptight and tense you were until his fingers began to work away at your knots and it felt so good a shiver ran up your spine. The warm water of your bath felt like a safe blanket lapping against you and you didn’t know what you’d done to deserve this type of treatment.

‘That okay?’ He murmured into the side of your head but it was like you could barely string a sentence together and your whole body felt like it was floating.

‘That’s perfect’ you mumbled, feeling more relaxed and loved than you had in weeks and you knew he was laughing at you as you felt his chest rumble against your back.

‘I’m not very good at this, but I’ve picked up a few tricks from having them done so often’ he laughed but soon enough his hands were traveling down your arms and holding you around your waist so he could hold you close and talk to you without any distractions. ‘So listen I need you to pack a bag tonight’ he mumbled in your ear and you turned your head to look up at him questioningly.

‘Are you kicking me out?’

‘No’ he laughed. ‘But I bet after that you could do with a proper massage, right? Well I’ve booked us into a spa for the weekend with a slightly delayed valentines dinner tomorrow night. It’s in London though so we’ll have a bit of an early start if that’s okay’’

‘I thought we weren’t making a fuss’ you whispered, your face breaking out into a smile so wide your cheeks hurt but he was looking back at you so lovingly it was like you could feel him coursing through your veins.

‘I know, but you deserve it’ he affirmed. Kissing your forehead softly as he stroked his thumbs over your skin ‘Then Sunday we’ve got lunch with your parents. I organised it the other day so I think that’s worked out pretty well’ he winked, feeling tears well in your eyes again for the millionth time that night but this time it was for a whole different reason.

‘What? Really’

‘Yes’ he nodded. ‘I knew you must have been missing them and since we’ll be down there I thought we could make the most of it’

‘Thank you’ you gulped. Reaching up to kiss him properly and it was like you were having your first kiss all over again, carefully kissing each other like you had all the time in the world.

When you were both ready to get out, Mason jumped out first to grab your towel from the heater before walking you back over to your shared bedroom to get changed. A huge bunch of red roses on the bed waiting for you and you had to tell yourself to hold it together as you’d you’d done tonight was cry.

Mason grabbed you a pair of shorts and one of his favourite comfy tops that you loved to wear for you to change into and while he was putting in your food order, you grabbed an overnight bag and began to pack.

‘Where are we going for dinner tomorrow night, Mase?’ You questioned as you fingered through some of your nicer things on your rack but you didn’t want to be overdressed if it was somewhere more casual.

‘It’s a surprise’

‘But I need to know what to pack’ you pouted, hoping you’d be able to get a little more from him than that but he seemingly didn’t want to give too much away.

‘Something nice’ he shrugged, locking his phone before standing up to join you and you placed your hands on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

‘Those new pjs you got me for Christmas are nice, maybe I’ll just wear those’ you teased, hoping you could taunt him into telling you and from the way he rolled his eyes you knew it was working.

‘Okay fine’ he laughed. ‘You should pack that black dress, you know the one you’ve been saving for a certain restaurant’

‘You didn’t’ you breathed, not knowing if he was just messing with you or if he’d actually got the pair of you into the restaurant you’d always wanted to try but from the nod of his head you knew he was making your dream come true. ‘Mase’

‘I know you were meant to go there with your girlfriends and I know I was meant to get you a table and never did cause I’m a rubbish boyfriend and I forgot’ he laughed, bumping his nose against yours as you both giggled before his face got serious ‘but I know they’ve been trying all the places you wanted without you so I thought we could keep this one just for us’

‘Thank you’ you pouted, reaching up to kiss him gently and he deepened it straight away. You hadn’t kissed each other like this in days and you could have quite easily taken it further but it was Mason who pulled away first much to your dismay.

‘Easy there, boo. We’ve got food on the way and there’s nowhere near enough time for me to do what I want with you’ he told you lowly, his voice thick and warm like honey and it made your insides quiver. ‘I’ll make it worth your while if you wait’

‘You always do’ you winked and you noticed how he blushed at your words.

‘Come on boo, we’ll go set the table yeah? Eat like proper humans for a change’ he laughed as he took your hand and you laughed along with him as he led you out of your room. Your mood a lot lighter than it was just over an hour ago and you couldn’t wait to finally spend your first Valentine’s Day under the same roof with the boy you loved most in the world.

y/n

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y/n quick trip home for some well needed downtime and a visit to somewhere I’ve always wanted to go with my valentine ♥️

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masonmount anything for my girl ♥️

y/n love you sm 🥰 🤭