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bunni-v1 · 6 months ago

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Phainon the Pussy Eating King

🍓I gotta get it off my chest.

Tw: Overstim; Squirting (yes); Voyerism (mentioned); NSFW

Info: Phainon x Reader; Reader has a pussy but otherwise isn’t gendered; Blurbs; Incoherent Ramblings of a Man Gone Mad

MDNI

If there is anyone in Amphorus that is good at eating pussy, it’s Phainon. While he isn’t very experienced in the realm of sexual encounters, he’s just as eager to learn as he is in any other capacity. He lives to please, he says, and aims for nothing but the best when it comes to your pleasure. It’s just the kinda guy he is.

He discovers very quickly that he likes eating you out, maybe a bit too much to be normal. Something about it just seems to hit all the right spots in his brain that makes his body hum with delight. The noises you make, the heat of your skin beneath his hands, the way you squeeze him so tight and tug at his hair like a life line, your sweet smell that has him feeling dizzy, and not to mention the sticky syrupy juices that he finds himself getting drunk off of each and every time. He’s surrounded by nothing but signs of your pleasure, and it’s quite literally all he could ever want from sex — he doesn’t care what happens to himself anyway.

He eager like a puppy each time, hoping, praying to the gods you’ll let him go down on you. Allow him taste that glimpse of heaven between your legs and hear the sighs of angels from your mouth. Which you do, every time, because how could you say no when he’s just so excited to make you feel good?

He starts slow, working his way down from your lips, kissing across your jaw. He pays special attention to your neck, sucking a few pretty marks for himself to admire later. Peeling your clothes off all the while, needing the contact of skin on skin like he needs air to breathe. He always takes time to suck on your nipples, enjoying their texture beneath his tongue. They’re so small, and so very sensitive as he bites them. The way you squirm at the warmth of his mouth has him losing his mind with pride.

By then, though, he’s already grown impatient. It doesn’t take much more teasing before he’s settling himself between your legs. His sting calloused hands grasp at your thighs, spreading them open to reveal the shining pearl between them. Perhaps it might embarrass you, but he can’t help but stare for a moment. Admiring the view below him with a proud smile. You were already drooling from his earlier teasing, and the shimmering juices just made you look so much prettier. Ah, yes, this was his pussy. The prettiest pussy in all the lands, his to love and care for like the good man he was.

He’ll drag a finger up from your slit, collecting juices on its tip, and press it up and up until it’s right at that little bud of pleasure. He smiles when you jerk your legs, unable to move from his strong grasp. He takes that very same finger and sucks on it, moaning at the taste — as if it were the finest delicacy in all of Amphorus. To him, it very much was.

After the first taste it doesn’t take much longer for him to swallow you whole. Licking his tongue up in the same path his finger took, giggling when you keen. He presses it flat against your clit, watching you intently with those ungodly focused blues eyes. Then, without warning, he begins his unending assault on your pussy.

He alternated between lapping at your folds like a dog and sucking your clit as if it could pull your very soul into his being. He’s messy, you can feel the mix of cum and spit dribbling down to the sheets but he doesn’t seem to care that he’s absolutely covered in your juices. He’ll moan his enjoyment against you shamelessly, muttering sweet words you can’t quite make out between the sounds of slurping.

It’s nice like that for the first three orgasms, his eagerness is a force to be reckoned with and one that you benefit from. However, he doesn’t stop at just three. No he needs just one more. “You can do it, c’mon starlight~” How one more turned into another three more, you’re not sure, but you’re absolute jelly beneath him and he’s still lapping you up like you’re his last meal. Still just as energetic and enthusiastic as when you started.

When you try to push him away, he’ll pull you closer. You’re no match for his sheer strength, so struggling is futile. “No running,” He’ll hum, strong hands keeping your thighs firmly in place around his head, and even if you do manage to get away he’ll follow you with his mouth like a brainwashed slave, only made to service you and nothing else. Your whining and whimpering only motivate him further, needing to hear more of those noises fall from those blessed lips. Say his name like a mantra, praise him for how good he makes you feel, he thrives off it.

Ah, but he doesn’t just use his mouth. His fingers are also very skilled at what they do. He’s memorized your body with the calloused tips alone, and he knows all the right ways to make you cum. His fingers are thick and long, reaching places you can’t deep inside. So as he sucks on your swollen clit, his fingers curl against your g-spot relentlessly. They won’t stop after you’ve cum, still urging you on, fucking you through your orgasm until he gets what he wants from you.

It’s all too much, the sensations he builds deep within your core. The overstimulation would drive a normal person absolutely mad, but the smile on his face as you squirt all over him is more than enough to make up for the torture he puts you through. His charming grin is made all the more irresistible with his face covered by your juices, praises falling from his lips. “You did so good,” “I’m so proud of you,” “You’re so perfect.”

He likes to play a little game with himself, to see just how many times he can get you to squirt for him in one session. It’s for his own ego, mostly, but the way your face contorts in pleasure is enough for him to justify it in his brain.

And, of course, these sessions are rarely short. He could go on and on for hours just between your legs lapping you up. It’s an obsession of his and his greatest means of relieving stress. Unfortunately, he can get a little… carried away and very frequently forgets about his responsibilities when buried between your folds.

Too many times has he missed important meetings with friends, or forgotten about a task he was meant to complete, all because he was too focused on you. It leads to many situations where his friends come looking for him, and have to turn tail when they hear your unending wailing.

The bolder of them (Mydei) have disregarded it and waltzed right in, expecting him to be shameful (which he usually is after the fact). But Phainon, sweetheart that he is, is anything but shameful. He takes pride in being the reason you fall apart like this, in being your other half, and he’s almost leaping at the opportunity to prove just how good he is to you.

He locks eyes with the intruder, almost begging them to stay and watch. There is something so very titillating about someone else seeing how good he makes you feel — especially someone he has a form of rivalry with. It’s like he’s taunting Mydei, saying “Look at what I have, look at what I can do, can you do this?”

Wether or not that goes anywhere I’ll leave to another day, but Phainon is good at his job. He’s earned himself the title of best pussy eater in Amphorus, and if I were him I would be just as cocky and egotistical about it too.

#hsr #honkai star rail #hsr phainon #phainon #phainon x reader #phainon x you #mydei #hsr mydei #bro why is it so hard to tag hsr #hsr phainon x reader #mydei x reader

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applejuicinator · 2 months ago

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The LADS men and your jealousy.

TW: Angst that is very easily resolved, misunderstanding, Zayne fucking up just a teeny bit.Our baby is only human. Also my first fic in years so it’s probably garbage. Tumblr is now my fic dumping ground.

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Green isn’t your best colour

Whilst jealousy isn’t something completely unknown to you, the situation in front of you seemed to stir an unbridled fury deep within your gut.

❄️ Zayne ❄️

Your beautiful and caring partner in crime was a literal angel when it came to your needs, whims and wants. He had never given you any reason to doubt him or his faith in your relationship, it was something entirely foreign in your mind, as though your brain couldn’t even compute a possibility of him cheating.

But when you walked into his office, well into the night mind you, to see a beautiful young doctor shoulder to shoulder with your boyfriend as they sifted through papers… something horrible and cold came to rest on your shoulders.

You knew nothing had happened, even with the surprising contact Zayne was sharing with another person. He normally didn’t tolerate people in his presence for very long never mind them touching him. He looked up from the report in hand, a look of surprise skimmed his sculpted features, but the sparkle of joy in his expression was hard to miss.

The young woman next to him rolled her chair away from him slightly, as though she had been caught red handed. Zayne, you trusted with your whole heart, your entire physical and mental being.

But this woman, this gorgeous, tall modelesque doctor who tracked your partners movements subtly with her body, was a different story. She probably didn’t realise you saw through her easily, the nervous ramrod straight posture was evidence enough. You had spent years fighting wanderers, watching closely and intensely to shifts in the world around you meant you were very adept at picking up on the small things.

You walked over to his desk with a perfect practised grin, learned through your many undercover missions. Zayne’s small smile disappeared however when he noticed the stiffness to your lips, the unusual tightness in your gaze. He was attuned to your every emotion, knowing perfectly how you felt even if it was a quiet exhale. In fact he was oblivious to pretty much everything except you and his patients, so a hot woman trying to hit on him probably flew straight over his head. .

This was both a blessing and a curse.

“Darling I was just checking up on you before I headed home” He leant into your touch as you delicately kissed his cheek, cooing internally at the red tint to his ears.

Your gaze now shifted to the doctor next to him, who had rolled a few more inches away, papers clutched tightly between her fingers. She didn’t look at you though, instead focusing on the words in front of her, willing you out of existence.

“This is Lillian, a new junior doctor from Skyhaven” Zayne introduced you both matter of factly, unaware of the silent battle ensuing. Lillian smiled at you kindly but it didn’t quite reach her eyes which irritated you even more. If you’re going to be so clear with your fascination for someone else’s boyfriend at least have the decency to look a little shameful.

“I didn’t realise the time; I’ll finish looking through these reports with Lillian quickly. Do you want to wait for me?”

For some reason the way he said her name rubbed you the wrong way, as though they were old friends. His other colleagues simply received a title or their surname, but she had somehow received the privilege of being on first name basis.

Had Zayne ever witnessed you being outwardly jealous before? You think back through your loving five year relationship, filled with some ups and down like any other, but never had you experienced an intense pang of jealously like this. There were times when women had hit on him but… look at the man! He was ethereal, heaven sent. Zayne never spared them even a single glance, barely registering their existence. You were so confident in him that the jealousy never reached more than surface level.

But this felt different, she wasn’t just a random woman who blipped by. This was a woman who held his gaze even if it was just a professional one; he was aware of her.

It didn’t help that Zayne was one of the most beautiful and kind hearted people you had ever laid eyes on. It caused people to flock to him despite his icy atmosphere, because they knew he genuinely cared.

“Darling?” You’re startled from your thoughts by a gentle hand taking yours, Zayne fixing you with a concerned look. “Why don’t you head home without me?”

You subconsciously pulled your hand from his grip, the interaction leaving him more confused.

It was only reports, he was only looking through reports with a fellow colleague. Nothing more you told yourself. The thought of leaving him alone with this woman made your stomach church.

Just colleagues. Heck, even if they were friends, it’s not in your right to tell him who he can and can’t mingle with. You’re not so old fashioned that you don’t think that men and women can’t be friends.

But you could see the gleam in Lillian’s eyes, from the way she angled her whole body to hang on every word he said all the way to her tongue coming to nervously dampen her lips whenever he spoke.

You trusted Zayne. And you couldn’t really find any excuse to stay behind to wait for him.

“Yeah I think I’m just tired. Please don’t stay too late” you clipped, giving him a rushed goodbye kiss and hightailing it out of there without sparing Lillian a second glance. He��s just showing her the ropes whilst she gets used to Asko.

If Yvonne noticed your grimace as you hurried from the building, she doesn’t mention it.

However, you should have known things never go that smoothly.

Lillian continued to rear her ugly head for the next few weeks, subtly at first but then more and more you saw her almost glued to Zayne’s side whenever you visited. You were biting your tongue the whole time, wondering when and if you should even say something. After all they weren’t crossing any boundaries and Zayne was still enamoured with every breath you made.

You scoured forums and advice columns about what to do – how to handle jealousy. Nothing of note ever came back, mostly just people venting how they felt and never really any solutions. You felt too ashamed to talk to your friends; it was such a new feeling and what if they confirmed your fears that you were being vindictive? A horrible nasty woman green with envy.

So you bottled it all up and pushed your complaints into the pit of your stomach. Even when Zayne mentioned her in passing at home, even when he told you not to come give him lunch because he needed to show Lillian some things.

But things came to a head, all things snap and break under pressure eventually.

You blinked down at the Asko hospital official account on Linksta, the page opened to their most recent picture which was a glimpse of the ‘Esteemed Medicine Gala’ which aimed to give due credit to hardworking doctors and allowed them to share tips and stories. The picture was a snapshot of golden hues and ornate declarations, with a group of well dressed people gathered in the middle posing elegantly. There you could see Zayne’s solemn figure, his face impassive aside from the slight upturn of his lips in the ghost of a smile. Lillian, hair professionally tousled and dripping with decadent jewels stood beside him. She wasn’t touching him, in fact she was stood quite far from him but it made your blood boil nonetheless.

You had debated bringing this up with your boyfriend for the past week, ever since you had stumbled across it. This Gala was something you attended with him every year but the event was delayed and you had ended up being at a conference in Skyhaven when it was finally reorganised. Absolutely typical timing when your emotions were a fraught storm of unease and jealousy.

You very much know that a junior doctor like Lillian wasn’t privy to the gala, unless she had attended as a plus one. Zayne’s plus one.

He confirmed it when you first mentioned the photo, just in passing so it seemed casual enough. He was upset it wasn’t you beside him, he said as much, but that was it. And it felt like a punch to the gut. Why had he even brought her in the first place? Surely Zayne, who was incredibly emotionally intelligent under normal circumstances, must understand how bringing another woman to a public event like that would look to your significant other.

Or did he notice and he just… didn’t care? Had he grown tired of you? You were at war with yourself, with your own thoughts pushing you further and further into this spiral of negativity and suspicion.

What did ring true is that you couldn’t keep this to yourself anymore.

When Zayne entered through the door close to midnight to find you staring blankly at the tv which was off, he immediately knew something was wrong. He had noticed your shift in mood and demeanour for the past few weeks, but when questioned you had waved him off with it being due to the back and forth hunters conferences. With your new promotion at work… he believed it without question.

But this was new.

“Darling?” He questioned gently, he placed his keys in the entry way bowl, cringing as the metallic clinking echoed through the quiet apartment. You hummed to confirm you heard him but didn’t move to greet him, your eyes remained glued to the empty tv screen. Zayne came and sat beside you, he shrugged off his coat and laid it on the arm of the plush setae. The silence stretched on for a few moments before Zayne shuffled closer, resting his hand on your thigh in quiet comfort.

“What’s the matter? Has something happened?” Had it been work again? Were they pushing you above and beyond your boundaries, you often did overtime to help out others. Your caring nature was something he adored about you, but not when it came to the detriment of your health. He supposed you were both a pair of workaholics.

You bit your lip, inner turmoil obviously painting your features. Zayne waited patiently, calmly and lovingly as he always did.

“Something has been bothering me lately and it isn’t work” you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes, his face beautifully bathed in the orange glow of the side table lamp. “I really don’t know how to even… say this” you inhaled, then exhaled.

“I’m uncomfortable with how close you’ve gotten to Lillian, and I probably should have told you earlier but I didn’t want to come off as possessive” You rambled, your voice hitched with nervousness but you kept your gaze trained on a spot in the corner above the cute potted plant he bought you recently. You couldn’t look at him. Your voice tapered off quietly, and when Zayne didn’t respond immediately you felt your hear beat stacatto, the thumping loud in your ears.

“My relationship with Lillian is entirely professional, I don’t believe I would even qualify us as friends” Zayne sounded confused, if you turned to look at him you bet he’d have that cute scrunch to his brow that always appeared when something baffled him. Which you did. Often.

His statement was composed and matter of fact, that should have made you feel better. But it didn’t. It was evident this man didn’t feel a shred of anything for the bright eyed, bushy tailed junior. But his statement was dismissive, even though you know he wasn’t trying to be. It sorta fucking hurt.

“I know I know, and I trust you wholeheartedly but there are just some things that don’t sit well with me” You expected Zayne to maybe ask what made you uncomfortable and how you could both try to come to a solution, or at least comfort you but instead your boyfriend did the opposite.

“She’s a fellow doctor, someone I have to work with for the care of my patients. I can’t just ignore her” Your head snapped to him so fast, as though it was on a swivel. First of all you hadn’t even suggested such a thing, second of all he didn’t even ask what was making you uncomfortable in the first place. You questioned yourself for a moment; intensely staring into his eyes. You pushed his hand off your thigh, jumping from the couch like a coiled up spring as unease jittered beneath your skin.

“I’m not asking you to ignore her Zayne!” His name left your mouth with more force than necessary. You two didn’t argue often, once in a blue moon and usually about smaller things like your similar habits of staying out at work late but this felt very different. You felt your hands shaking, you were angry, footfalls heavy as you paced in front of him.

“Well, what would you have me do?” Zayne’s voice was level just like normal but this aggravated you like nothing else. It made you feel as though you were blowing things out of proportion.

The two of you continued to swap passive arguments for what felt like hours but in reality was only minutes. Your pitch continued to get louder and louder, you weren’t aware you were shouting until Zayne told you that screeching wasn’t a way to get your point across.

Screeching? Screeching?

Your mouth snapped shut. You looked down at yourself, chest heaving with anger and anxiety, frustrated tears threatening to gush forth like a dam. The two of you stood apart from one another, the distance seemed like an unbridgeable gap. The man you loved more than anything stood the other side.

For Zayne’s part he didn’t really understand what was happening. He had told you that he didn’t even consider the woman a friend, which he didn’t, he couldn’t even remember her face once he stepped past the hospital threshold. Bubbling indigence spilled from him in waves. It felt as though you were questioning his motives, his love and loyalty to you. He gave all he had, everything was for you and you only.

“Zayne.” The cold frost that seeped from your tone made whatever he was about to say die on the tip of his tongue. The name you usually spoke so lovingly, dripped in honey and happiness, was instead replaced with cold venom. “I repeatedly walk in on you alone, with another woman late at night.” Zayne’s eyes widened slightly, as though he didn’t even realise.

You held up your hand, urging him to let you continue.

“Like you said, you’re both doctors and I understand that you can’t just ignore her. I wouldn’t ever ask you to. But the overtime you’re sharing with her, the missed lunches…” you tried to maintain composure, words coming out coherently to communicate your thoughts and feelings, he is right in the fact that raising your voice isn’t helping either of you.

You fought back tears instead, the reality of this argument stifling the atmosphere of your usually warm apartment and pressing down on your chest.

You know that if you started crying, Zayne would panic and fold immediately, his anger dissipating like a summer breeze in winter. But you didn’t want him to feel bad. You just wanted him to understand what was going through your mind. To work to a solution.

“And the final straw.” You looked him in the eyes, and hurt seemed to reflect back, it almost made you pause, give up on this whole tirade entirely. But this wasn’t something that could be buried deep in the recesses of your mind anymore. “You took her to the Esteemed Medicine Gala” You choked on the last word, your hands coming up to wipe at the stray few tears that slipped over your cheeks. You had tried, but saying it out loud that your boyfriend had gone to that gala without you, another woman grasping his arm, made bile rise in your throat.

“Just think how you would have felt if I had taken Xavier to the Hunters’ Ball. Of if you had even told me beforehand so it didn’t blindside me”

Zayne opened his mouth, but nothing seemed to come out. He looked panicked, a look that was rare on him.

You should have told him how you felt earlier, about how uncomfortable their closeness made you feel, Zayne isn’t a mind reader. You had become so accustomed to him putting your every need first, you relied on him unfairly, Zayne was only human.

And you expected so much from him, too much

At the same time, you were also only human. Someone flawed who loved the man in front of you so deeply it hurt.

“I don’t want to do this anymore” your words came out quietly, you had meant it in the way that you didn’t want to fight anymore but to Zayne, the words implicated something horrendous, something he couldn’t contemplate. You flinched as he grasped your hands, his palms which were normally cool and dry felt clammy with nerves.

“Please- I didn’t -…” Zayne stuttered, but words died when he saw your crumpled expression.

“Just forget… just forget I said anything” you mumbled lowly before hastily retreating to your bedroom, and once the door had clicked shut, everything hit you all at once. It started off as silent flow of billowy tears but it wasn’t long before you were hiccuping and groaning into your pillow. Your heart hurt.

Regret began to replace anger and sorrow.

It was pointless now, why had you even mentioned it. Was your trust in him so brittle? No wonder he looked so wounded, that beautiful face that gazed at you with adoration normally, looked so distraught.

He didn’t come after you either, you had truly fucked it.

You woke to a cold hand cupping your cheek, the touch so gentle and tender that it made your heart quiver. The grogginess made you slur as you reached out for his other hand to clasp within your own. The skin around your eyes itched from dry tears, you bet that they’d look like two baseballs stuck to your face at this moment in time.

“Whatsh the time” you shifted towards him, head resting beneath his chin as arms came to pull you in even closer to him.

“Early, go back to sleep and we’ll talk in the morning” His voice seemed far away and distorted, the throws of sleep and the comforting embrace lulling you back to deep needed slumber.

You blinked clearly as warm rays of sun filtered through the blinds you’d forgotten to shut. The memories of last night seemed to rush back to you like a hurtling freight train with no brakes.

You always said never to go to bed angry with each other. What a hypocrite.

Ugh.

You patted the bed beside you, wondering if you had imagined Zayne’s presence last night, but the tell tale twisted sheets were definitely him all over. The muffled sound of the tv playing reached your ears at the same time the earthy scent of roasting coffee graced your nostrils.

You sat up, the sheets pooling at your waist. You needed to apologise, at the very least for raising your voice at him. Shouting never solved anything.

At this point you just wanted to forget this ever happened, forget about Lillian and just fall into his embrace.

You left the warm bed and freshened up in the bathroom, splashing your face with some cold water and brushing your teeth to feel less like the living dead. Your reflection looked haggard, eyes bulging and red.

You headed to the living room with soft footfalls, the chill of the laminate raising goosebumps on the backs of your arms. And there he was, your ethereal boyfriend busying himself in the kitchen as the news channel garbled on about stocks and wanderers. He glanced over his shoulder at you, the skin around his eyes was blotchy and puffy.

“Sit down and I’ll bring you some coffee”

You swallowed the guilt and did as he said, nestling yourself in the confines of the blankets and pillows like you were in a cocoon. You felt a dip in the couch moments later as a steaming coffee made in your favourite plush mug was handed to you.

Your hands grasped the mug tightly, the nerves didn’t fade even with the kind gesture.

You didn’t want him to break up with you.

“Darling” Zayne spoke first, shattering the barrier. “Can you please look at me?”

You did as he said, shifting to face him. He looked tired, more haggard than when he’d worked a 24 hour shift. He put his coffee to the side, elegant fingers brushing against your knee featherlight. It was as if he was coaxing a small and frightened animal.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry”

“No Zayn-“ you began, placing your coffee cup next to his on the table. You needed to touch him, feel his warmth.

“Please let me continue” he moved closer, taking your face in his hands. You felt each ripple and ridge of his scarred palms against your cheek, even the subtle tremble to his hands. “I reflected on what you said, how my actions and attitude must have come across.” He held your face tighter.

“You came to me with legitimate concerns and I just brushed them aside without even thinking.” He inhaled shakily. “I love you so much, the world for me spins only because you’re by my side”

“Oh Zayne..” you sniffled, vision beginning to blur once again with tears.

“It is no excuse, however I only took Lillian at the directors request so she could network with other doctors. But I should have told you this, rather than just expecting you to be okay with it.” You knew there would be a story behind her attendance, but jealously picks at the threads, pulling at them until everything is coming apart.

“And the lunches and late nights… I’m such a fool.” He looked ashamed. “Even if I didn’t see it that way I should have realised that it wasn’t appropriate”

You placed your hands over his, exhaling a deep breath of relief that had been stewing for weeks.

“I love you, more than words can describe. More than I thought was possible” He repeated again.

Your heart clenched, the sincerity and adoration in his cadence made everything feel right.

“Will you forgive me? For being so so stupid”

You nodded as you flung your arms around his neck, nuzzling your cheek against his, his scent immediately calming your frayed nerves. Like a sailor coming home to dock.

He pulled you into his lap, grip ironclad as he nosed against your neck, peppering light kisses to the soft skin.

“I’m sorry too” he pulled back to look at you, confusion painting his features. “I should have told you earlier about my concerns and I should never ever have shouted at you.” Zayne shook his head, not dismissively, but in disagreement.

“Sweetheart, you were not in the wrong for sharing your concerns with me.”

“But I could have handled it better and for that I’m sorry.” Zayne didn’t think you needed to apologise at all. Your partner postponing lunch dates to spend time with another woman? What sort of fool was he. How could he have made you cry, the woman who loved him to his flawed core.

“I love you” You kissed him, his body slotting against yours like the perfect puzzle piece. You peppered his face in loving pecks, murmuring words of adoration in between each one. He received each touch, each statement happily, responding to every single one with his own declaration of love

You stayed glued to each other for a while, head resting on his shoulder. This closeness you both craved settled into pure bliss on a lazy Sunday morning. His rough hands brushed up your sides softly, the touch making your legs quiver. You huffed against his neck, the gasp and shiver not going unnoticed.

“Why don’t we go take a shower and I’ll show you how sorry I am…”

You looked up at him, pure reverence in his gaze as you brushed your thumb against his lips, a dark red flush blooming across his pale neck.

“I want a long, hard apology” You watched him shudder.

“Anything for you” He kissed you hard, grasping at you like you were his only reason for living.

❄️

A good old short fic to get me back into writing, so please be aware that this won’t be a masterpiece. I’m probably going to place all the fics that don’t make it to AO3 on here.

Also I’m going to do one for each of the boys. I picked Zayne first for this because why not, and whilst I recognise he’s incredibly emotionally intelligent I think that sometimes he forgets to make his internal thoughts known. Do I think he’d be as oblivious as I portray him… probably not. He is a man infatuated after all.

This was way longer than I expected - also probably filled with errors and waffling. Feels nice to finally write again tho.

#lads zayne #lads mc #lads #lads reactions #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #dr zayne #zayne x mc #lnds zayne #l&ds zayne #zayne x reader #zayne x you #doctor zayne

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arbitrarykiwi · 15 days ago

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Hyiaa, I just say I'm absolutely OBSESSEDDDD with your Thanos and Nam-gyu fics, seriously you're amazing and I CAN'T stop smiling at the screen whenever I read them like??? You're way of writing if fucking immaculate wtf?? Girl you better keep up with the good work🫶🏽

But now I'm wondering how the boys react during reader's menstrual cycle... OR EVEN BETTER... HEAR ME OUT

When she's OVULATING

BAM I said it

I AM SO FUCKING SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!??? totally didn’t get started then get lost in my drafts….and I also didn’t totally revamp it once I found it again. This is literally such a good ask. Also thank you for the kind words??? I LOVE KNOWIN I MAKE YEW SMILE WHEN YOU READ MY THINKS ON THANGYUUU <333

I went with a headcannon style for writing this one (I hope you don’t mind)

Warnings: 18+ , nsfw / sfw themes

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

Okay so…admittedly at first they were both so ass with anything to do with periods or ovulation or anything to do with period products- completely oblivious

They both know what a period is, they just don’t particularly realize how much of an effect it has on someone who experiences a period until you’ve come along

Thanos 100% though a ‘heavy flow’ was a new way of saying a rapper had good bars in their raps

When you first told them you had cramps they straight up asked if if you overdid it with a workout or something

When you had to ask them to get you pads or tampons for the first time…fucking hell it was a challenge

They just need to be trained </3

The group chat you had with the three of them was blowing up nonstop. As much as you loved them, this only made your headache worse.

‘Why is there so fucking many’

‘I’ve lost Nam-Gyu. Do I call 911?!’

‘No don’t call 911, you’re in a small store you’ll find him’

‘I told you the brand I needed.’

‘Okay yeah, you told me the brand but you didn’t tell me that brand would have so many fucking products. Like I mean come on…there’s like 70 different options here.’

‘Found Nam-Gyu! :D What does “with wings” mean?’

‘I want the ones with the wings. Just get any brand at this point idc.’

‘Wings for my angel’

‘Wait are you mad now?! :( I swear I’m trying here can’t say the same for shit-for-brains’

‘You’re too pussy to say it out loud that’s why you text it :P’

‘Not mad ‘Gyu…just tired and hurting. Get ones with wings and the overnight kind.’

‘What size pussy you wear?’

Once they got back from that trip you explained to them why there was so many options and how you had a specific favorite brand and even more specific product from that brand

They then took pictures of all four sides of the pad or tampon box to save or for the next time they tried to find your items

After seeing how it affected you, the way you’re more lethargic and in pain, they begin to take your menstrual cycle more seriously than you do.

Nam-Gyu then has your cycle in his calendar and shares it with Thanos as well as you

The second that calendar reminder goes off, you’re getting texts from both of them to confirm if it came on that day

They also can’t seem to grasp that although your period sucks and it’s worse on some days and not others- it’s something you’ve been dealing with for a long while and you know how to cope with everything- you’re not dying.

You falter in your steps when a sharp pain hits? They’re asking if they need to take you to the hospital. You get up to change your pad or tampon a little sooner than normal? They’re both convinced you’re bleeding out

After learning about what you need and what your period is like, they’re both attentive in their own ways.

“Here you go, girlie.” Nam-Gyu says tapping your shoulder and passing a hot bowl of homemade Ramen over your shoulder from behind the couch.

Your eyes widen and you turn around, smiling at him with a wide but tired smile. This has been a particularly tough day, horrible cramps, heavy flow, headaches, the whole lot. “Ohhhh!! You’re the fucking best.” You say, taking the warm bowl from his hands.

“Mhm, I know~” he says, leaning over the back of the couch and bending down to kiss the crown of your head, he’s ruffling your hair before grabbing a bottle of water out of his apron pocket and placing it against your legs on the couch, “You better fuckin’ drink this, you can’t only drink soda- you’ll get dehydrated.”

Your attention is turned away from Nam-Gyu when the front door opens. “I’m back!!” Thanos calls out, wide grin becoming impossibly wider when he sees you sitting on the couch. “Ahhh!! My baby! Perfect, I come bearing gifts.”

Thanos walks towards you, dropping a couple plastic bags down on the couch and sifting through them, beginning to hand you things one by one. “Okay so I got you more of those pain meds you like…” he’s placing the bottle in your lap.

“Got you some chocolates…they unfortunately didn’t have your favorite so I got literally every other one they had in store so we can now decide on a second one to have as a backup for next time…” he’s lifting one of the plastic bags, now identified as being solely chocolate.

“And got you more pads like you requested, the exact ones you requested.” He always says that now after the first pad incident.

You smile wide and lean to reach him, “Thank you!!” You say holding your bowl of ramen steady, “gimme kiss, handsome!” Thanos leans in happily, connecting his lips with yours in a slow kiss.

“Take your meds.” Nam-Gyu calls from the kitchen. Thanos is pulling away, realizing the Ramen in your hand then quickly making his way into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Nam-Gyu from behind and hooking his chin over the household cook’s shoulder.

“Ramen for dinner?”

“Mhm…she requested it.”

“I’ll take them in a bit!” You’re calling out over your shoulder to Nam-Gyu, too engrossed in the level of the video game you’re playing to pause to take the pain medication

“I will come over there and shove them down your throat, princess- don’t test me.”

“Ooooo, so hot when you scold her ‘Gyu.” Thanos coos, squeezing Nam-Gyu tighter.

Now when you’re ovulating?

Those two freaks just know

It’s something about how you hold yourself, how you walk, the little purr that takes over you voice- they just can tell

Almost like dogs, they can smell when you’re ovulating. It’s not that they can smell your arousal- they always say it’s your skin. It’s something uniquely you that almost makes their ears ring.

Pheromones. What they’re smelling is pheromones.

Being in a relationship with the both of them, being near each other almost all hours of almost every day, being intimate- they’re so in tune with you that they can pick up on the slight hints your body gives them.

Also…with living with the both of them…With those two fine ass men around ready to do whatever you ask?- you don’t have to do much to get whatever you need

Wanna watch them fuck each other just while you use your favorite little vibrator on yourself? Done!

Want to just spend hours sucking them both off because there’s just something about the weight of their cocks in your mouth that makes your mind go numb? Lol! Easy money!

It’s when you’re ovulating that they realized they might actually not be able to keep up with you in terms of sex- you’re making them fuck you over and over until both of them are twitching and damn near crying from overstimulation while you’re crying for another round

They end up developing a fucking system where they’re practically tagging each other in and out of the ‘ring’ like some wwe fighters or something (the ring being your pussy)

Also- they’re both so whipped they give you whatever you want when you want it

It’s 3am… and here you were, waking up randomly with a huge throbbing in your lower stomach and damp panties. You do try to get back to sleep, but you mind is flashing with images of the little session that put you to sleep to begin with.

Stuffed so full of both their cocks, begging them to cum inside you over and over until you were fucked stupid- yeah…you weren’t getting back to sleep anytime soon.

You wiggle a bit, loosening yourself out of the mess of limbs that was currently the cuddle pile. Nam-Gyu was to your right, facing you with his arms lightly draped over your stomach. Thanos was to your left, curled into you with one hand arched over your head on the pillows and tangled in Nam-Gyu’s hair.

You’re huffing, tossing and turning trying to ease yourself of the heat that is taking over your entire body. You need them.

Whining, you’re turning your head to press your forehead against Thanos’ and rub your nose against his, your hand tracing up his bare torso- he doesn’t wake up. He rouses, his face twitching into a blissed out smile and his cock begins to grow in his boxers- but he’s not away.

“C’monn.” You whine louder, but still nothing. You’re about to turn over and begin to try and wake Nam-Gyu but you can already feel his side of the bed shift.

Nam-Gyu’s arm removes itself from holding you as he flops down on his back, his eyes still closed- you almost think he’s asleep. You then see his hand fish out his hardening cock.

“C’mon, take what you need, girlie.” His voice is soft, laced with sleep, and creaky- it only makes you wetter. His hand is lazily pumping his cock, getting himself hard as you straddle his thighs.

You’re huffing and whining, removing his hand from his cock and replacing it with yours. The second you drag his fat cock head through your folds you’re nearly falling over on top of him. You’re still so fucking sensitive but you need it.

Sinking down onto him, you’re spearing your cunt open on his thick length, a wanton cry ripping from your throat.

Apparently all you needed to do was moan out all nice and pretty to wake up Thanos because now he’s up and beginning to make his way behind you.

“How rude…” he scoffs, his voice deep and rough. Thanos’ tattooed hands push your down forward on Nam-Gyu, hand staying on your lower back to push you into that deep arch he love sooo much, “Didn’t wanna invite me?”

Thanos is prodding his already hard cock at your stuffed pussy, “I-I tried! You didn’t wake up!” You whine, beginning to feel the wide stretch of having both their cocks deep inside you. You’re pressing your hips back eagerly, seeking more.

“Hmm didn’t try hard enough…must not want it that bad…” He’s drawing his hips back and pulling out, his cock dragging deliciously against Nam-Gyu’s who is now wide awake.

“No I do! I tried- I swear- you sleep so fucking hard. I wan’ both of you!” You’re pleading, trying to press your hips back but it’s not working with how they hold you.

“Don’t be so mean to her…” Nam-Gyu coos like he’s not the one holding your hips in place, “…she’s a needy thing and you’re just mad I woke up first.”

“Well now neither of you are going back to sleep anytime soon.” Thanos says, plunging his cock deep inside you, ripping a high pitched moan from both you and Nam-Gyu

All in all, the two boyfriends are better than one applies here because they both know exactly how to take care of you during those times!!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆

Taglist: @namsgyu @nuttybeans @namgyucat @g1rlonthe3internet @reilapse @yuuumeee @thanosspills

((Lmk if you wanna be added to my main tag list <3))

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keirareidss · 3 months ago

Text

dumb - s.r

♡ summary: literally just sub!spencer smut pairing: spencer reid x mean!reader warnings: 18+ MDNI,sub!spencer, overstimulation, tiny bit of hair pulling, p in v, pretty much pure smut with no plot wc: 1.0k

Spencer was not above begging for what he wanted when it came to you. And he had been begging. For the last 30 minutes. You were sitting at your desk working on your laptop and Spencer had been feeling needy since he woke up from his post-work nap in your bed.

He'd been dreaming about you, more specifically, you sucking his cock and degrading him. He'd never admit it but it always turned him on when you would say demeaning little things to him during sex. You weren't wrong when you told him his brain turned off when you touched his dick. It was what he was craving now.

"Please? Please, angel, I need you." He was bent over, arms wrapped around your shoulders, murmuring into your neck as you typed away on your laptop.

"I'm busy, Spence." You hummed, not taking your eyes off the screen.

"You've been working all day." He whined.

"That's typically how work goes." You chuckled.

"Please." You sighed, raising a hand to card through his hair. You closed your laptop and Spencer stood up in anticipation. You got out of your chair, facing him.

"Spencer. I was trying to work." You scolded and he shrunk into himself, like a child getting reprimanded by his mother.

"I'm sorry. I just-"

"I know. You need me, don't you baby?" He nods, wringing his hands. You stepped closer to him, leaning up to press a kiss onto his lips. Your hands find his waist and you push him backwards, manhandling him until the back of his knees hit the couch. You shove him onto it and climb onto his lap. He looks up at you with his wide puppy-dog eyes, his hands on your hips, yours moving to pull down his sweatpants.

"I never asked you how your nap was."

"It was- it was fine. I had a dream about you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhm." He whimpered when your hand went into his pants, palming his cock. "We, uh, we were in my bed and, um- you- ah!" He moaned in the middle of his sentence when your hand slipped into his boxers, grabbing his cock. "You were giving me a- a blowjob." He mumbles it quietly, embarrassed.

"Is that all?" You ask.

"Uh huh." He hums, his voice high pitched and squeaky.

"No, that's not all, is it? Come on, use that big brain of yours. Tell me what else." You said mockingly. He just moaned in response. "Aw, so horny you can't speak, huh?"

"Ngh!" He whimpered when you fingered his slit.

"Does that feel good, Spence? Was it worth taking me away from my work?" He let his head fall back against the couch as he moaned again. You tsked your tongue at him. "My poor dumb baby, just wants to cum, right?" He nodded frantically as he felt himself getting closer the more you stroked him.

"Mm, ah- I'm gonna- I need to-" Your hand suddenly left his leaking cock and he whined. "Wha- why'd you stop?" He asked.

"Well I didn't say you could come yet, did I?" He shook his head slightly. "Right. Not so stupid after all."

"Please, please I need to- I need to cum, please." He begged.

"Do you think you deserve to?" You didn't get a verbal response from Spencer, just a needy gaze in his watery brown eyes. "Well? Come on, think, babe." You tapped his temple.

"N-no?"

"That's right. So sit there like a good boy until I say you can come." You take his cock in your hand again, stroking slowly, using his own pre-cum as lube. He whimpered and whined as you fondled him slow enough to drive him crazy. Spencer's chest heaved and he eyes started watering. "Why are you crying, Spence?"

"Feels so good." He stammered, a tear falling down his flushed cheek. You chuckled, reaching up to wipe it away. You leaned down to kiss his pretty pouty lips and he whined into your mouth.

When you pulled your hand away for the third time before he could finish, Spencer grabbed your wrist.

"Please, please, I can't take it anymore. Please, please, please-" You shut him up with a kiss before stripping yourself of your shorts and underwear. You pulled his pants down more until you could lower yourself onto his red, twitching dick. He gasped, the stimulation intensely overwhelming for him. Tears of pleasure were streaming down his face now as he moaned and whimpered while your hips moved slowly.

"Poor baby. So overstimulated, aren't you?" You ran your fingers through his hair, tugging lightly, making him whine. "Do you want to cum for me?" He nodded, lifting his head from the back of the couch to look up at you with pleading eyes.

"Yes, please, I wanna cum, please." He begged.

"Okay, honey, let go." He cums at your words, his orgasm rocking through him, making his entire body tremble. You kept rocking your hips, moving faster to bring your orgasm on quicker. Spencer whimpered loudly, jerking underneath you. "Hang on, pretty boy, I'm almost there." He's gasping by the time you come, coming a second time with you. His vision nearly goes white as his head drops back. When he comes to, you're brushing your hands through his hair, your eyes on his face. "Are you back, again? I thought you passed out, baby." You gave him a small smile.

"I'm okay." He mumbles and you press a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm gonna pull off of you, okay? Are you ready?" He hums, nodding his heavy head. You raise yourself off of his cock slowly, his hips jerking as he whines. "It's alright." You move to sit next to him, and his head drops to your lap. "Aw, Spencer. Feel better?"

"Mhm." He nuzzles into you as you pet his hair. He dozes off in your lap and you give up on the idea of going back to work because you have your boyfriend in your lap, and what could be better?

#criminal minds #♡ keira's fics #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut

588 notes · View notes

cheftsunoda · 3 months ago

Text

beauty and brains

(part three)

smau + real life

(this part is quite wordy i apologize)

“jules goes to meet lando’s family and him and charles have a much needed conversation.”

Charles Leclerc x !Doctor Sister Reader x Platonic F1 Grid

Leclerc Reader x Lando Norris

part one

part two

part four

tag list : @klauslovemepls , @omgsuperstarg , @msliz , @samanthaofanarchy , @mayax2o07 , @goldenstrawberryx, @hannahmotors10 , @alireads27 , @1800-love-me, @htpssgavi , @cmgmikealson, @babygirl-4986 , @star73807-blog, @glow-ish

—

dr_jules_leclerc

japan 📍

liked by lando, quadrant, arthur_leclerc & 8,378,790 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : special day in japan w quadrant, libertywalkkato and the loml

see ya in suzuka bbs

—

lando : you are so fucking beautiful

lando : so happy to have you there with me angel

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : so happy to be there with you handsome- I am so proud of you<3

liked by lando

username4 : I am so happy they are happy^^ it warms my heart

username5 : they r so fucking cute

quadrant : our fave couple

liked by author and lando

arthur_leclerc : lando do you think it’s cool to just steal my big sister from me?

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : arthur stop being dramatic - i will be in the paddock tomorrow

lando : I thought we agreed mclaren paddock tomorrow….

dr_jules_leclerc : I am splitting my time equally children.. you will both see me tomorrow.

pietra.pilao : absolutely loved getting to meet and hangout! (she is even more beautiful in person guys)

liked by author and lando

dr_jules_leclerc : you are the absolute sweetest! pls convince max to move you guys to monaco so we can hangout everyday😚

liked by pietra.pilao, lando and maxfewtrell

maxfewtrell : Trying my hardest to make it happen. Nice meeting you, Jules! So glad you gave Lando a chance- he is the happiest I’ve ever seen him.

liked by author and lando

alexandrasaintmleux : my beautiful angel 😻

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : love you smmmm pretty

leclerc_pascale : Je vous aime tous les deux!

liked by author and lando

charles_leclerc : Maman! You were supposed to tell Jules to stop ignoring me

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : charlie…i have not been ignoring you..i literally saw you two days ago

charles_leclerc : two days too many

dr_jules_leclerc : omg between you and arthur I can’t ever have a moments peace

liked by leclerc_pascale

leclerc_pascale : Maintenant tu vois ce que je ressens.

liked by author

arthur_leclerc : I have been betrayed by my own mother and SISTER

liked by author

username8 : I met Jules tonight and she was the absolute sweetest - definitely even more beautiful in person!

liked by author dr_jules_leclerc : so nice to meet you- thank you for the kind words!!

—

lando just made a post!

japan 📍

liked by dr_jules_leclerc, danielricciardo, oscarpiastri & 2,366,378 others.

lando : mega day at liberty walk hq with quadrant to launch our car/helmet combo- absolutely incredible to have the love of my life by my side. japan is even more special than usual this year. can’t wait to hit the track!

dr_jules_leclerc : so proud of you my angel- i will always be with you every step of the way! now go kick some ass on the track tomorrow 🤍

liked by author

lando : my love for you grows more and more each day

danielricciardo : get a room would ya

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : miss you danny😭 still planning that trip to aus and im bringing max bc my maxiel heart is hurting

liked by author, danielricciardo and maxverstappen1

maxverstappen1: just let me know when the plane is leaving and I’ll be there

liked by danielricciardo and dr_jules_leclerc

username2 : JULES WILL BE THE ONE TO REUNITE MAXIEL I LOVE HER

maxfewtrell : 🇯🇵🔥

liked by author

username4 : was this an event for Jules or for Lando? because she stole the show..😍

liked by author

lando : she really did 😻 my girl is a stunner, ain’t she?

liked by dr_jules_leclerc

username4 : omg she absolutely is

lilymhe : fun time have been had lando now return my wife

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

lando : settle it over 18 holes?

dr_jules_leclerc : she’d beat your ass babe

liked by lilymhe and alexalbon

monsterenergy : power couple

oscarpiastri : mate she looks cooler than you at your own event

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : love you osc

mclaren : we r in love with your girlfriend lando

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

dr_jules_leclerc : you have my heart admin

—

real life - quadrant liberty walk event - jules pov

The energy buzzed through the cool Tokyo air, a perfect mix of roaring engines, camera shutters, and excited fans echoing off the walls of the Liberty Walk compound. I tucked my hands deeper into the pockets of my oversized jacket. I smiled to myself as I watched Lando animatedly talk cars with some of the team, his face lit up, bouncing slightly on his heels in that way he always did when he was excited. Five months into this whirlwind of a relationship, and it still didn’t feel real sometimes—being with someone like him, in places like this.

“Babe!” he called, spotting me across the lot, motioning for me to come over. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I weaved through the crowd, offering a few polite nods to fans who recognized me.

"Dr. Jules! Could we get a picture real quick?" a younger girl in the crowd asked me and I stopped abruptly.

"Absolutely." I said and leaned into the group and she snapped the photo.

"Have a good night! You and Lando are perfect together." She said with a smile.

"Thank you mon ange, you have a good night! I hope you have fun." I said with a smile and then walked to join Lando.

Lando reached for your hand as you reached him, lacing your fingers together before tugging you gently toward a grinning guy standing next to a girl with long blonde hair and killer style.

“This is my best friend, Max—And this is his girlfriend, Pietra,” Lando said, his voice proud, like he was presenting a prized possession. “Guys, this is her- I told you she was real- Dr. Jules Leclerc.”

I laughed softly, rolling my eyes at Lando before extending your hand. “Just call me Jules- no need for formalities- I promise I’m not as mysterious or important as he makes me sound.” Earning a glare from Lando.

Pietra leaned in and gave me a quick hug instead of a handshake. “Finally! He talks about you all the time. I was starting to think you were a figment of his imagination.”

I smiled warmly. “I’ve been buried in the hospital the past few weeks, but I couldn’t miss this.”

“You’re a pediatric oncologist, right?” Max asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s intense.”

I nodded. “It has its moments. But I love it.”

Lando gave my hand a small squeeze, and when I glanced up at him, he was already looking at me with that soft, proud expression he reserved just for me. “She’s basically a superhero,” he said, only half-joking.

“Oh god,” I muttered, cheeks burning. “My head won’t be able to fit through the door if you keep this up.”

Max and Pietra laughed, clearly already warming to me.

“It is very impressive, something to really be proud of. You should have a massive ego.” Max said with a chuckle and Pietra nodded.

“We’re getting food later with the rest of the team,” Pietra said, looping her arm through mine casually. “You better come. I want to hear all the embarrassing Charles stories.”

I laughed. “Deal—but only if you promise not to tell him.”

“And I want to hear the embarrassing way Lando asked you out.” Max chuckled as he walked beside Lando.

“I think we can skip that today.” Lando said eyeing me and I chuckled lightly.

As the four of us fell into easy conversation, I couldn’t help but glance at Lando, his arm still loosely around my waist, his eyes sparkling. The event was exciting, sure—but this? This felt like something quietly perfect. Like I was exactly where I am supposed to be.

The soft hum of the plane’s engines was the only sound in the first-class cabin, dulled further by my noise-canceling headphones that currently played nothing but the low, steady rhythm of my own heartbeat. Lando was stretched out beside me, legs long, one arm slung across his lap as he scrolled through his phone. Every few seconds, his thumb would stop, and he’d glance at me.

I tried not to fidget. I was usually good under pressure—my whole career was built on staying calm in life-or-death situations. But this? Meeting Lando’s family for the first time? Terrifying.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I mumbled, turning my head toward him with a tiny smile.

“Like what?” he asked, wide-eyed and completely innocent, though the twitch of a smirk gave him away.

“Like you’re waiting for me to bolt out the emergency exit.”

He laughed under his breath and reached over to tug one of my headphones off. “I’d tackle you before you even hit the aisle.”

I rolled my eyes but leaned into him slightly, his warmth grounding me. “I just… I’m nervous.”

“Why?” he said, voice soft now. “They’re going to love you.”

I gave him a look. “Because I’m your girlfriend. And—newsflash—I don’t exactly have a laid-back job. What if I say something weird or fall asleep mid-convo from exhaustion? What if I spill wine on your mum’s rug or call your brother the wrong name—”

“Okay, okay,” he cut in, chuckling, slipping his hand into mine. “First of all, my mum already loves you and she’s only seen a photo. She literally asked if you were the one who saved that little boy from the racing-themed tumor project. Like… you’re halfway to sainthood in her eyes.”

I laughed softly, the tension in my shoulders easing a little.

“And second,” Lando went on, “my family is chill. No pressure, no royal protocol, no calling anyone sir—except maybe me, if you’re feeling flirty.”

I swatted his shoulder playfully, cheeks heating. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to my temple. “But I’m ridiculously into you.”

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder as I stared out the window. The clouds below looked like cotton stretched thin, and the sun was just beginning to dip, painting the sky in streaks of apricot and lavender.

“Do you think your little cousins will like me?” I asked quietly after a beat.

“They’re obsessed with anything F1. And you’re a literal doctor. I’m not even the cool one in this relationship anymore.”

I chuckled. “You never were.”

Lando gasped dramatically and pretended to be wounded, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ouch. My ego.”

I reached over, brushing my fingers along his wrist. “I’ll make it up to you. Just… hold my hand when we land, yeah?”

“Always.”

—

I barely had time to adjust my hoodie—Lando’s hoodie, as always—before the front door burst open and chaos immediately ensued.

“LAN-DOOOOO!”

A blur of tiny limbs flew at him, arms wide like they were mid-flight. Lando stumbled backward, laughing as one of his younger cousins tackled his waist. Another followed seconds later, shouting something about who won the last family karting race.

I stayed just outside the doorway, suitcase in hand, watching it all unfold with a half-nervous, half-amused smile. Honestly, it was adorable. Chaotic, yes—but adorable.

Then a new voice cut through the mayhem.

“Alright, give him a second to breathe—he’s not going anywhere!”

I looked up as a woman appeared from the hallway—poised, but warm, with the kind of presence that made me instinctively want to stand up straighter. Her eyes found mine immediately, and the smile that bloomed on her face was the kind that made my chest loosen just a little.

“You must be Jules,” she said, already stepping forward with her arms out. “I’m Cisca. Finally—I’ve heard about you nonstop.”

I hugged her, a bit surprised by how natural it felt. “It’s really lovely to meet you.”

“No, darling. It’s lovely to finally have you here.”

Before I could answer, another voice piped up behind her—calm, curious, and just as warm.

“Is this the famous doctor we’ve been hearing about?”

A tall man with graying hair and kind eyes stepped forward, his hands tucked casually in his pockets. This must be Lando’s dad—Adam. I straightened instinctively, not quite intimidated, but definitely a little on edge.

“Hi,” I offered with a soft smile, extending my hand. “Jules.”

“Adam,” he replied, shaking my hand firmly, then smiling. “We were starting to think you were mythical.”

“She is,” Lando cut in from behind me, dropping the suitcase to the floor and wrapping an arm around my waist. “Mythical, magical, and very much mine.”

I shot him a look. Adam laughed.

“I see the charm’s still running on full power.”

Before I could respond, a new presence slid into the hallway with a graceful sort of energy—cool, confident, and stylish without even trying.

“Hey,” she said with a wide grin. “You’ve got to be Jules. I’m Flo.”

I took her in immediately: Lando’s sister, effortlessly beautiful and clearly used to sizing people up fast—but she was smiling, which gave me hope.

“I’ve heard so much about you,” I said, returning the smile.

Flo raised a brow. “All good things, I hope?”

“Only the best,” I said, glancing at Lando, who looked suddenly far too pleased with himself.

The introductions started to blur after that—more cousins appearing from every room, snacks being offered like it was a competition, and multiple requests from the younger kids to show them how to do CPR “just in case.” I politely declined.

Flo pulled me aside once during the biscuit tornado and said, low enough so only you could hear, “Don’t take anything personally—this house is a zoo when everyone’s home. But… you fit in, weirdly well.”

It hit me unexpectedly—the weight of that sentence. I fit in.

Dinner was a mix of laughter, teasing, and gentle nudges from Cisca every time someone brought up Lando’s childhood phase of trying to name every Formula 1 driver’s pets. Adam asked about my work—genuinely curious—and even the little ones eventually quieted enough to eat. Flo talked to me like a sister you didn’t know I needed, and Lando? He couldn’t stop smiling.

Later, as I helped clear the table, Cisca touched my arm gently.

“Thank you for coming, Jules,” she said quietly. “You’re very… grounding for him.”

I blinked, then smiled, heart aching in that soft, slow way it did when something really mattered.

“Thanks for having me,” I whispered back.

And as I stepped back into the living room—Lando perched on the armrest of the couch, motioning for me to sit between him and Flo—you realized something else:

It already felt a little like home.

—

I barely had time to breathe after dinner before another voice rang out from the hallway.

“Oi! Is she here yet or did you scare her off already?”

I turned just in time to see a tall, sharp-featured guy with the exact same mischievous grin as Lando walk into the room, carrying a box of beers in one hand and a duffel in the other.

“That’s Oli,” Lando whispered under his breath with a crooked smile. “Brace yourself.”

“I heard that,” Oli called, shooting Lando a mock glare before turning to me. “So you’re the doctor-slash-twin-sister-slash-person willing to put up with this idiot?”

I blinked, then grinned. “Guilty.”

Oli set the beer down, dropped the bag, and walked straight up to ,e like I was already part of the family. “Respect. Honestly. Can I shake your hand, or do I have to go through a background check?”

“Just the handshake should do,” I deadpanned.

He laughed, clearly already loving me. “Alright, she’s cool. Lando, you might actually be in trouble.”

“Might?” Flo called from across the room, where she was stealing the last chocolate biscuit off a plate.

Just then, a new figure stepped in behind Oli—a woman with dark brown curls pulled into a loose braid, subtle makeup, and the calm energy of someone who’d spent her whole life being the observer in a storm of louder siblings. She smiled when she saw me, kind and open.

“Hi. I’m Cisca—junior, not mum,” she said, extending her hand. “Sorry we’re late. We got stuck in traffic and then Oli had to stop for snacks.”

“I told you I was starving,” he muttered, heading for the fridge.

I shook her hand, already liking her immediately. “Jules. It’s really nice to meet you.”

She leaned in a little, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t let them overwhelm you. We tend to… swarm.”

I laughed. “I’m used to swarms. Pediatric oncology’s basically organized chaos with tiny humans.”

Oli popped his head out from behind the fridge door. “Oh god, you really are cool.”

Soon enough, the living room was full again—Oli cracking jokes, Flo calling him out on old stories, Cisca Jr. and I falling into quiet conversation on the couch about my work, and Lando sitting right beside me with a hand resting lightly on my knee, like even in all the noise, I was his constant.

At one point, Oli started recounting the story of how Lando accidentally reversed a golf cart into a pool on a family trip. Everyone roared with laughter—especially me, because the mental image was too much.

Lando just buried his face in my shoulder and groaned. “This is a violation of trust.”

“You brought me into the lion’s den,” I whispered, patting his back. “You had to know what was coming.”

He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes sparkling, voice low. “Still glad you came?”

I didn’t hesitate. “So glad.”

The house had finally quieted.

The sound of laughter and clinking plates had faded into the gentle creaks of a house settling for the night. Most of the lights were off, except for the soft golden glow coming from the kitchen. I padded in, barefoot in one of Lando’s old hoodies—again—and found Cisca at the counter, stirring a mug of tea with slow, thoughtful movements.

She looked up and smiled, her expression calm and warm.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, reaching for a second mug.

I shook my head, sliding onto one of the stools. “Too much adrenaline. I haven’t socialized that hard since med school.”

Cisca laughed gently and passed me a mug, chamomile and honey wafting up in soft curls of steam. “You handled it beautifully. They all loved you.”

I cradled the mug in my hands and looked down at it, the warmth grounding me. “It was a lot… but a good kind of a lot. Your family is amazing.”

She watched me for a second—really watched me—with that same steady, maternal gaze she’d had from the moment I walked in.

“You’re good for him, you know,” she said quietly. “I haven’t seen him this… settled in a long time. Maybe ever.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the softness in her tone. “I didn’t do anything special.”

“You were just yourself,” she said, setting her spoon down. “That’s all it ever takes with the right people.”

I swallowed, something about her words landing deep in my chest.

“I was nervous coming here,” I admitted. “Not because of you or your family—but because… I know how close you all are. And I guess part of me wondered if I’d be too different. Too ‘doctor,’ too serious. Too… I don't know."

Cisca smiled gently, reaching out to place her hand over mine. Her grip was warm, comforting.

“Being close doesn’t mean we’re all the same. It means we show up for each other. And tonight, you showed up. For him. For us. That’s all we need.”

I felt my eyes sting a little—not with tears exactly, but something close. I blinked quickly and gave a small laugh. “Okay, if you keep being this nice to me, I will cry.”

Cisca squeezed my hand. “Then I’ll make you another cup and hand you a tissue. I’ve done it before.”

I looked at her, really looked, and saw a woman who had raised her kids with fierce love, sharp wit, and the kind of empathy that didn’t need to be loud to be felt. She didn’t need grand gestures. She just saw people.

“I really love him,” I said suddenly, softly.

Her eyes sparkled just a little. “I know you do.”

I sat in silence for a moment, sipping my tea, letting the quiet settle between us—not uncomfortable, but full. Like two women connected by someone they both adored deeply, each in their own way.

“I hope he knows how lucky he is,” she added a moment later.

I smiled to myself. “I remind him. Daily."

—

I closed the kitchen door as quietly as possible, mug still warm in my hands, my heart even warmer.

The lights were dim down the hallway, but I didn’t have to guess where Lando was. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed in one of his old hoodies, hair messy from running his hands through it, TV remote forgotten beside him. The second he saw me, his face softened like he’d been waiting to exhale.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low, thumb brushing under his bottom lip as I walked over.

I nodded, slipping onto the edge of the bed beside him. “Your mum and I had tea.”

His brows lifted slightly. “Oh no. Did she—did she bring out baby pictures? Or worse, the ‘Lando in the bathtub’ ones?”

I laughed, leaning into his side. “No, no blackmail material. Just… a really lovely conversation.”

He tucked my hair behind my ear, eyes searching my face like he wanted to memorize every version of my calm.

“What’d she say?”

I hesitated for a second, then looked up at him. “That I’m good for you.”

Lando’s breath caught, and his hand slowed where it had been tracing lazy circles on my thigh.

“She’s right,” he murmured. “You are.”

I smiled softly and leaned into his chest, letting the quiet settle. The world outside the walls of this room—my job, the races, the headlines, even Charles and his inevitable protective sibling grilling—it could all wait.

Right now, it was just the two of you, wrapped in flannel sheets and sleep-heavy affection.

“She also said you’re lucky to have me,” I whispered against his hoodie.

He kissed the top of my head without missing a beat. “I am. So ridiculously lucky.”

The Norris kitchen was already buzzing when I came down the stairs the next morning. I was in one of Lando’s oversized hoodies again—this one with the faded Quadrant logo—and a pair of socks that barely matched. My hair was up, barely tamed, and I hadn’t even thought about makeup yet.

But the second I stepped into the room, four pairs of eyes flicked toward me. And then I felt it.

I blinked. “…What?”

Flo grinned around her coffee mug, clearly trying not to laugh. Oli leaned back in his chair with a smug smirk.

“Good morning, Jules Norris,” he said pointedly.

I rolled my eyes and muttered, “That’s not even funny.”

Cisca Jr. glanced at her mum, who was very pointedly looking down at the toast she was buttering—but her smile was giving everything away.

Lando walked in right behind me, still sleep-warm and squinting at the brightness, and reached for my hand like it was second nature. Everyone noticed. I could feel it.

He yawned, totally unbothered. “Morning.”

Oli raised an eyebrow. “So you’re just casually holding hands in front of us now, huh?”

“Is this an official soft launch?” Flo teased, bumping my elbow. “Or are we already past that and in the ‘planning the wedding playlist’ era?”

Lando didn’t even let go of my hand. He just looked around, deadpan. “I’ve been in love with her for months. What stage do you think we’re in?”

I turned slowly to stare at him, heart suddenly thudding louder in my chest. He met my gaze like he meant every word.

Silence fell over the kitchen—except for the loud clink of Oli’s spoon dropping into his bowl.

“Well then,” Cisca said, setting down the toast, eyes twinkling. “I suppose we should start planning seating arrangements.”

Everyone burst into laughter, but Lando never looked away from me. His thumb brushed across my knuckles, grounding, steady.

I bit your lip to hide my smile. “We’ll start with brunch first.”

He smirked. “Then forever.”

—

dr_jules_leclerc just posted!

liked by ciscanorris, flonorris1, leclerc_pascale & 4,363,628 others.

dr_jules_leclerc : lando took me to meet his family and now i am the favorite

ciscanorris : We miss you already! Come back soon❤️ Love you both!

liked by author and lando

lando : we love you mum

flonorris1 : best sister in law i ever could’ve asked for 😉

liked by author and lando

leclerc_pascale : So glad you both had a good time! Safe travels.

liked by author and lando

ciscanorris : You raised a great girl, Pascale.

liked by author, lando and leclerc_pascale

leclerc_pascale : And you raised a wonderful man!

liked by author, lando and ciscanorris

charles_leclerc : great now come back to monaco pls

liked by author

dr_jules_leclerc : alex come get your menace

liked by lando, arthur_leclerc and alexandrasaintmleux

arthur_leclerc : it’s my fault- i keep calling lando our brother in law

liked by author and lando

charles_leclerc : they are NOT married

lando : doesn’t mean we will never be charlie 😚

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charles_leclerc : bad answer

—

lando just posted!

liked by ciscanorris, mclaren, maxfewtrell, oscarpiastri & 3,378,368 others.

lando : can’t wait to make her dr. jules elise leclerc-norris (i added leclerc so charles won’t kill me)

ciscanorris : My beautiful children!

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

mclaren : glad you both enjoyed your break! 🧡

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dr_jules_leclerc : miss you admin!

charles_leclerc : did not make it any better

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carlossainz55 : Am I best man??

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dr_jules_leclerc : you can always be a bridesmaid too

adam_norris_pure_electric : Very excited to brag about my daughter in law who saves lives everyday!

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lando : your son driving in f1 is no longer brag worthy?

adam_norris_pure_electric : lando she literally saves lives everyday - a SUPERHERO

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oscarpiastri : You guys are so cute it makes me sick to my stomach.

liked by author and dr_jules_leclerc

—

It had been a couple of days since Lando and I flew back from the whirlwind family visit. I was back at work, deep into patient rounds and case notes, and Lando had been catching up with sim training, press, and a full inbox of post–triple header chaos. The house was still littered with half-unpacked bags and the soft scent of my perfume clinging to his hoodie on the back of the couch.

And today—finally—Charles came over.

Charles sat across from Lando on the balcony, legs stretched out, espresso in hand. He looked relaxed—but Lando knew better. There was a storm under all that calm. There always was when it came to me.

“So,” Charles said finally, eyes squinting against the sun. “You and Jules.”

Lando swallowed, setting down his coffee.

“Yeah. Me and Jules.”

“She’s serious about you.”

It wasn’t a question—but it hung in the air like one.

“I know,” Lando said quietly. “I’m serious about her too. More than I’ve ever been with anyone.”

Charles looked at him for a long beat. No teasing, no narrowed eyes. Just watching.

“I always knew someone would come along,” he said eventually, “but I didn’t think it’d be a driver.”

Lando didn’t flinch. “I didn’t think it’d be your sister. So here we are.”

A twitch of a smile—barely there—but it made Lando feel like he hadn’t already lost the fight.

“I’ve seen her go through hell and still walk into that hospital every day like she’s made of armor,” Charles said, voice low now, all truth. “She doesn’t let people in easily. Not really.”

“I know,” Lando murmured. “But she lets me in. And I don’t take that for granted.”

Charles stared down into his coffee for a moment before asking the thing that mattered most.

“What do you want with her?”

Lando didn’t hesitate.

“I want to build a life with her.”

Charles looked up.

“I’m not saying tomorrow. I know she’s got a career that matters and so do I. But when I think long-term, it’s her. Always her.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy—it was full. Full of everything they didn’t need to say out loud anymore. Lando had shown up. He’d met the family. He’d seen Jules in chaos and quiet, in grief and joy. And through all of it, he stayed.

Charles finally leaned back in his chair, sighing through his nose.

“She talks about you like you’re… peace,” he said. “Like she finally stopped running.”

Lando smiled—soft, genuine. “She’s peace for me too.”

A long pause.

Then Charles clinked his espresso glass against Lando’s and said, “Don’t screw it up, mate.”

“No pressure,” Lando said, smirking. “Just the most important relationship of my life and your blessing. Easy stuff.”

Charles shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“I still might kill you if you ever hurt her.”

“I’d let you.”

Another beat of silence. Then Charles added, a little too casually, “So… when are you telling Maman?”

Lando’s eyes widened. “About what?”

“That she might be planning a wedding in the next year or two.”

Lando laughed, shaking his head. “Let me propose first, man.”

“Tick-tock,” Charles said with a grin.

But underneath the teasing, Lando could feel it—the trust. It was real now.

—

omggg part three is finished! as always let me know if you guys want me to continue or if you have any requests for other stories! thank you for all your support this far!

#charles leclerc #f1 smau #f1 social media au #formula 1 #lando norris #mclaren #scuderia ferrari #lando x reader #lando norris x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #lando fluff #f1 fic #arthur leclerc #oscar piastri #quadrant #lorenzo leclerc #leclerc!reader

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jamminvroomvroom · 2 years ago

Text

everything.

ln x fem!reader

in which you’re his best friend until you’re something more

hi! here you go lmao. probs the fluffiest thing i’ve ever written and i am obsessed with the concept! thank you for being here and baring with me - i loved writing this one and i’d love to hear what you think! huge shoutout to my girlies @mcmuppet and @lavenderlando ily both!

songs that set the mood: pink and white by frank ocean, daylight by harry styles, angel by finneas, enchanted by taylor swift, hate to be lame by lizzy mcalpine

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, language, friends to lovers brain rot, slight corruption kink, readers first time, qatar angst

6.4k words

“do you wanna talk about it?” you whispered softly, your hand resting on lando’s sagged shoulder.

your eyes were fixed on the third place plaque on his table in front of you, his very much fixed on the floor.

“no.” his reply was short and sweet, his tone conveying exactly how deflated he was.

you’d only flown in to qatar this morning, the october sun hitting you hard as you walked into the paddock, drastically different to the london climate you’d grown accustomed to. lando had all but begged you to come, your evening before spent on the phone, and you knew that he needed a friend, otherwise he never would have asked you to fly halfway around the world.

friends. that’s what you were.

you’d hugged him tight and told him that the weekend had to get better, and then his teammate put it on pole and got his first win. so, yeah, maybe it wasn’t going to get better and not even the podium could cheer him up.

his radio messages had hurt your heart, your chest aching as he self deprecated in the cockpit. he owned his mistakes, sure, but he’d taken it a step too far and you knew you had a job to do. you’d do anything, quite literally anything, to cheer him up.

you’d always found a way to be there for eachother, your friendship spanning five long years after you’d knocked a coffee over a guy you quickly recognised as the new mclaren driver. both nineteen and awkward as hell, you’d um-ed and er-ed and danced around one another in the busy pret in central london, chucking tissues at him, attempting to mop up the frothy mess all over his white sweatshirt.

eventually you’d just burst into laughter, lando immediately following suit. your cheeks were hurting from smiling at the curly haired stranger, intrigued by the very way his faced moved when he laughed, and he’d looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, not like someone that had just destroyed a brand new hoodie.

and just like that, a connection was born.

you’d gotten used to having a friend for only half the year, but he never let you feel the distance. paddock passes often fell through your letter box and you could usually be located in the background of his streams when he was home long enough to do them, the amount of times you’d been wrongfully accused of being his girlfriend a list as long as your arm. even in those moments of awkwardness, friendship prevailed and you both managed to crack up together about the conspiracy that you were more than friends.

and what an intriguing conspiracy it was.

“we should get you back to the hotel, you need to get some rest.” you told him, standing from the sofa and offering him your hand.

lando grabbed it, squeezing, his own special way of telling you he was grateful for your presence, and let you pull him up. as he tried to walk towards the door, you stopped him, hands on his shoulders. you wanted to shake him, tell him how fucking great he was. you didn’t think he’d appreciate that after an intense session in the car.

“hey, look at me. you got this, okay?” you smiled reassuringly, managing to get the smallest crack back from him, his lips upturning ever so slightly. something in his eyes told you that you’d succeeded, a small glimmer of an emotion that you didn’t know how to unpack.

friends.

that’s what you were.

you tried to ignore how touchy lando was being. you figured he just needed some comfort, physical touch not out of bounds in your friendship, but a new level had been reached.

on the entire walk through the paddock to his car, his hand sat comfortably on the small of your back, despite the endless amount of cameras pointed at you. his hand skimmed your thigh in the car, accidentally, you told yourself, and you had to avert your eyes when his hand graced your headrest as he reversed out of the parking space. knowing that he needed you in qatar so desperately that he’d flown you out was one thing, the way he was treating you once you got there was something else.

he’d opened your door when you pulled up at the hotel valet, helping you out of the car, his hand tucked in yours for a second longer than necessary. once again, his hand seemed to be glued to your lower back the whole way to the elevator.

the ding of the lift had you both shuffling out onto your floor, trailing towards your rooms in a heavy silence, something more left unsaid in the air.

you reached your door first, coming to a stop and shuffling around in your bag for your keycard.

“um, i need to be at the track early tomorrow. breakfast?” lando asked.

you turned to look at him, nodding your head profusely.

“of course, just drop me a message and i’ll come down and meet you.” you affirmed, your fingers finally grasping the piece of plastic that had, of course, fallen to the very bottom of your tardis of a tote bag.

you expected him to leave, but he lingered, as if there was something else on his mind.

“you okay?” you raised an eyebrow, unlocking your door. lando seemed to snap out of it then, awkwardly running a hand through his curls that had taken a brutal hit from the humidity. you liked the look on him, nonetheless.

“yeah, i- yeah, i think i just need some sleep.”

“okay, well, goodnight. let me know if you need anything.” you disappeared through the door then, the tension getting the better of you. you slumped against the shut door, wondering what he so clearly wanted to say.

the clock read 1:32am on your bedside.

a faint tapping had woken you up, and you groggily scanned the room, trying to find the source of the noise. you deduced that it was coming from your door, letting out a groan as you threw the cosy comforter off and trudged towards the disturbance.

you cracked it open, peeking through the gap and coming face to face with your best friend.

“lando?” you croaked, opening the door further.

“i’m sorry, can’t sleep. can i come in? it’s okay if not, i just didn’t know what to do.” he sounded so shy, something you didn’t recognise in the man stood before you, and you quickly swung the door open, ushering him inside.

“come, sit.” you waved for him to follow you across the room to the foot of your bed. he sat down beside you, the mattress dipping.

you patted your lap and he instantly knew what to do, laying down with his head in your lap. it’s something he did quite frequently when you were sprawled on his sofa at home, watching a shitty movie that neither of you were really paying attention to. you’d often be looking at him, praying he didn’t notice, and he’d be playing with your fingers, tracing the palm of your hand.

you couldn’t help yourself, running your hand through his curls. you didn’t mean to, stomach instantly twisting with embarrassment, but it was quickly twisting with something else. his eyes fluttered shut, a low groan falling from the back of his throat. it made your thighs clench, and he must have noticed, the tiniest smirk on his face.

“you okay?” lando asked, his eyes still shut, a look of relaxation finally on his face.

you coughed awkwardly.

“yeah, sorry. are you comfy?” you said teasingly, trying to cut the growing tension in the room.

“i am now, could fall asleep here.”

“you can, you know.” you whispered. his eyes flew open. your heart was hammering in your chest. this was new territory and you were worried you’d fucked up. sleepovers were also a norm, but one of you usually retired to a guest room, not the other side of eachothers beds.

“you want me to stay?” his voice rose in surprise.

“well, i mean, you can if you want, like, there’s space and-“ you rambled.

“do you want me to stay?” he repeated.

“is it gonna help?” you questioned cautiously.

“yes.” the confidence in which he replied did something to you.

“then stay.”

you crawled up the mattress, falling back into the place you’d so comfortably occupied just minutes before. you laid so still, watching with quiet curiosity as he slipped his hoodie off. his shirt came with it ever so slightly, riding up over his back, and you had to pry your eyes away, the ache between your thighs still ever present.

what on earth were you doing, allowing your best friend to crawl into bed with you? emotions were running so high, but it felt like a switch had been flipped ever since you hit the tarmac in qatar. every look, every touch was fuelled by something different to what it had been before and you weren’t sure if it was a good thing or not.

lando turned towards you, making his way back over to the bed. he looked apprehensive, as if he was thinking the same thoughts as you, wondering if there was any logic in what was about to happen. he seemed to come to the conclusion that this was, in fact, happening, crawling into bed beside you.

“is this okay?” lando breathed into the darkness of the room, his hand brushing yours. you were both as still as planks, mere centimetres separating you, the only light coming from the lamp beside the bed.

“yeah,” you took a deep breath, preparing for the words that were about to come tumbling out. “i’ve just never done this before.” you spoke quickly, sucking in another breath as you finished.

“you’ve never…”

“i’ve never shared a bed… like this.”

“like what?”

“with a… a guy?” your anxiety riddled words came out more like a question than an answer.

“oh. oh.” it seemed to dawn on lando then. “so, you’ve never… oh. i mean i can go if you’re uncomfortable.”

“lando, no, i just wanted you to know. i’m always comfortable with you.” you said, quietly baring your soul to him.

you weren’t sure why you’d basically told him you were a virgin. it held no relevance, he was just here to sleep, for some friendly comfort. he was not here for any other reason. and yet here you were, spilling the beans, all over the bed you found yourself sharing.

“i didn’t come here to, you know. i just needed you.”

you tried to ignore the pang in your chest and the annoying, minuscule butterfly springing to life in your belly.

“god, yeah i know! i didn’t think that you wanted to, well i mean not with me because why would you want me like that anyway, i get why you’re here, lando.” you rambled into the empty air. you heard yourself, groaning in embarrassment and dragging the cover over your face. lando laughed, pulling it back so he could see you again.

he was leaning over you, perched on his side, resting on his elbow.

“trust me, i’m more than happy with any part of yourself that you wanna give me.”

“don’t tease me, lando.” you scoffed. he was joking, right? right?

“i’m not! i promise, this is the one place i want to be.”

“why? why with me? i mean you could’ve called max. all he does is stream when you’re not home, think he misses you.” you were half joking, half deadly serious.

“come on, it’s you. it’s just… its been so hard this year, being away from you so much more. and then you came all the way here…” lando trailed off, averting eye contact.

you turned on your side to face him, placing your hand over his affectionately.

“you needed me.”

“exactly. i needed you. you.”

he gave you a look, one that you didn’t recognise, but you understood what it meant. it said more than anything had done since this confusingly beautiful interaction began. you got it, then, why you were here.

“lando-“

“i know that i shouldn’t tell you this and i can’t just spring this on you in the middle of the night, but i-“

“lando!”

“what?”

“kiss me.”

and god, he kissed you. the air was sucked out of your lungs, dragged out of you by the way he put his hands on your body, so urgent.

you sunk back into the mattress, his body over yours, a hand cupping your cheek while the other rested on your waist, stroking the skin there, exposed from your ridden up top. your hands were in his curls, and you revelled in the way that you could shamelessly touch them now.

he paused for a second, nose brushing yours, breathless and grinning down at you, a knowing smile that was so beautiful that it rendered you speechless.

“you have no idea how long i’ve waited for this.” lando breathed, scanning your face as if he was trying to take it all in. you, panting beneath him, coy smile, cheeks flushed. you’d never looked so gorgeous to him.

you leaned in to kiss him again, slower this time, relishing in the moment. you were lost in him, thinking back to the very first time you’d locked eyes and how you never thought it would come to this. this, the way he was holding you, was the best surprise.

lando pulled away, peppering your flushed cheeks with kisses, a dazed giggle passing your swollen lips.

he flopped onto his side, grinning at the ceiling mindlessly. you hadn’t seen him smile that big all weekend.

“are you tired?” you whispered, lips brushing his cheek, his light stubble rough against you. you wondered how it would feel elsewhere, scratching over your bare skin.

“no.”

“then why did you stop?” you asked, the words falling off your tongue slowly, sinking all over him like honey. you felt the way he tensed up, the suggestion that laced the seemingly innocent question making you tingle.

“i didn’t come here for that.” he reiterated.

“and i didn’t let you in for that. but here we are.” you weren’t ashamed of what you were asking, the moment was right, the one, and you knew it.

“it’s too soon.” lando was apprehensive. he was always overly protective of you, previously as his friend, but this, god, this was an entirely different ball park and he was proceeding with caution, against every natural instinct in his body screaming at him.

“says who?”

“it’s your first. it needs to be special.”

“everything about this is better than i could have ever imagined.”

“are you sure you want it to be me?” there it was again, those unrecognisable nerves that made everything inside of you flutter.

“lando, there is no one else i could ever want to do this with more than i want to do it with you. i want it to be you.”

“but… now? are you sure? i don’t want you to regret this.”

“the only thing i regret is that this didn’t happen sooner.”

“one last time. i just need to hear it one last time.”

“i want you, lando.”

and with that, the air changed, charged with a different kind of tension. lando pulled you on top of him, hands firm on your body, the action itself gentle. you steadied yourself, hands on his shoulders, his resting on your waist.

“can i take this off?” he tugged at the hem of your shirt. you nodded profusely. “words, sweetheart. i need you to use your words.” lando cupped your jaw as he said it, squeezing ever so slightly, enough to turn you into putty in his hands.

“please. yes.” you said shakily.

he smiled softly, slowly peeling the material off of your body, up over your head and tossed carelessly onto the floor. he kept his eyes on yours, despite the fact you were now left bare, aside from the white cotton panties that separated you both. he pawed at your sides, kneading gently at your soft hips.

“we’re gonna start slow, okay? gonna take my time with you.” he muttered, eyes on yours before they trailed slowly down, across your face, neck, collarbone, further and further until he was taking all of you in. he began to stroke the underside of your breast with his thumb, watching the way your body tensed under his feather-like touch.

“okay.” you choked out, head tipping back as he placed a kiss to the base of your throat.

his kiss trailed further down your body, peppered in the valley of your breasts, and then you stopped breathing, the air caught in your throat because he was looking at you, really, truly looking at you, as his tongue found your nipple. you couldn’t take your eyes off of him, not when he was looking at you like that, not when he was making you feel this good already.

lando pulled away, just for a second, just so that he could shift you from his lap onto his thigh. he was still fully clothed beneath you, totally in control, and you craved him in a way you didn’t know was humanly possible, so much so that you didn’t need the encouragement he was giving you to start rolling your hips, pussy grinding down on his covered thighs, the friction of your underwear driving you insane.

“oh, baby. you want me so badly, don’t you? should’ve asked me sooner. m’gonna make you feel so good.” his hands were on your hips, guiding you backwards and forwards on him.

“it feels so- oh, god.” you whimpered, fingers tangling in his curls, back arching further into him as your thighs clenched around his. he licked over your collarbone oh so slowly, a shiver running down your taut spine.

and then he was kissing you again, tongue slow over yours, his fingertips surely leaving marks where he was controlling your pace. the kiss was filthy, untameable, and you found yourself dragging against him slower, harder.

“i need you.” you panted, forehead falling on his shoulder as you pulled away from his lips, goosebumps pricking your sweat slicked skin. you were so close to an orgasm, desperate to feel him everywhere.

“i want you to come for me like this first, okay? can you do that for me, baby?” he cooed, bouncing his leg ever so slightly. “look at me.” and you did, somehow mustering the strength to pull yourself back up and find his darkened eyes.

you were a mess of curses when you let go, your body convulsing, collapsing into him as you came. you were throbbing on his thigh, one glance down at where you were grinding against him displaying your slick. his arms went around your body, flipping you onto your back so that you were resting against the mattress.

“you did so well, baby.” lando crooned, resting over you on his forearms. you stared up at him in awe, blinking away the haze. “do you want more?”

“i want everything.” you breathed, pulling him against you. you smoothed your hands over his shirt until you reached the hem, dragging it up over his back. he helped you take it off, and then it was lost to the room. you grabbed at his shoulder blades, smooth, muscular planes of bronzed skin so warm under your touch. you felt insatiable, like nothing was enough, totally intoxicated by him and everything he was managing to make you feel.

lando’s hand slid down your body, searching for the band of your underwear. when he reached his destination, he toyed with the lacy edges, letting them snap against the pudge of your belly, teasing you. you bucked your hips, frustrated, and he used the opportunity to cup your pussy, feeling where you’d soaked through the cotton. the groan he let out was carnal, animalistic, almost needy. he could feel all of you, how you ached and dripped, how you needed the everything that you’d requested.

“you’re so fucking good for me, god.” lando almost slurred his words, voice lower than you’d ever heard it. you keened at the sound, pushing your hips further into him.

lando didn’t give you much time to dwell on it, mouth latching onto your underwear where it met the crease of your thigh. he was so close, so tantalising close to where you were aching for him and you were just about levitating off the bed when his teeth grazed your inner thigh. you couldn’t see him looking at you, losing it, inhibitions out the window. your eyes were already squeezed shut when he began mouthing over your cloth-covered pussy, spit further ruining the sodden material.

“take them off.” you cried out, tugging hard at his curls that you hadn’t even realised you were clutching for dear life. and lando was a good listener, because he complied immediately, tearing the lace down your legs like a starved man.

his tongue was on you then, everywhere all at once, running through your folds and over your clit. you didn’t know if you were dead or alive, a different kind of pleasure than anything you’d ever experienced coursing hot through your veins. lando switched between long, slow licks, his tongue flat against you, and rapid kitten licks, burying his face in your cunt.

everything was moving in slow motion, your hands grasping frantically at anything you could reach; his curls, the sheets, his shoulders. you could barely make out what he was saying, his words muffled, lost to the soft flesh between your legs. it seemed to echo, every lick, stroke, word. you snapped out of it, finally, when he pulled away.

“more? you want my fingers, baby? gonna get you nice and ready for me.” you just nodded, voice lost to the air of the room.

one arm locked around your thigh, pinning you still, and the other snaked up your leg until he reached the mess between your thighs. he took a moment to take it in, how wet you were, how fucked out you looked, knowing full well he must have looked the same, unhinged as he gave into your shared desire that he’d tried his best to keep hidden. he’d never felt more stupid in his life for holding back, as he took in the ethereal delight sprawled under his touch.

when lando slid the first finger in, your stomach twisted deliciously. he watched you carefully, searching for discomfort but all he could find was sheer bliss, written all over your face as clear as daylight. he worked the digit in and out, nice and slow, curling against your walls. he could feel how tight you were, clamping around just one finger and he thought his head was gonna explode. he added another finger, watching the way you took him in, twisting his fingers.

“are you gonna let go for me again, sweetheart?” lando punctuated his words by putting his mouth back on you, teeth grazing your clit as he sucked.

you were thrashing, a silent scream building from the fire in your belly. you could just about make out the way he was spurring you on, his mouth running as you spilled over the edge, covering his fingers. you saw white, maybe god, ears ringing, and when you finally mustered the energy to look at him, you could have come for a third time. lando looked feral, lips red and coated in everything you had to offer him. his eyes were glazed over, a hazy grey that sent a jolt through your body, the aftershocks of the orgasm setting in.

“christ.” was all you could sigh out. a lazy smile painted your face, your eyes blown out, everything a little blurry. everything except him.

you could feel him scaling up your body, crawling over you until he was level with your face. he placed a kiss to your throat, your jaw and finally your lips; when he pulled away all that was left was shared giddy smile, both of you suddenly shy. you couldn’t stop the roaming of your hands, exploring all the parts of him that you could reach. when you found the waist band of his joggers, your hand grazing his abs as you did, he sucked all of the air out of the room, a sharp inhalation making him tense up.

“you still want all of me?” he breathed, his shaky breath fanning your face. lando was obsessed with hearing you say it, obsessed with how you wanted him as much as he needed you.

“all of you. lando, this is… you’re perfect.” you admitted, lips brushing his. your hands pushed the material down his hips, nails raking over him as you did. he couldn’t seem to wait any longer, kicking them off the rest of the way, his boxers quickly following suit.

you couldn’t help but stare, all of him bare against all of you. your nipples brushed his chest, his hands holding you close, your hands threaded through his curls. it was like you were sussing each other out, eyes watching lips and hands getting lost. you stayed like that for a moment, pressed together, closer and closer, until he was slotted between your legs like he was coming home. lando searched your face one last time, hunting for a smidge of discomfort.

“are you ready for me?” he whispered.

“yes.”

the initial stretch burned, but he slid into you smoothly, his cock slipping through your folds with ease. he felt you clamp down on him, his head thrown back as far as it could go, thick neck exposed to you. you bit down on his shoulder, where it met the base of his throat, trying to mask the gasp of pleasure that sent your eyes rolling back in your head. he grunted at the sensation, enjoying the sting.

“oh, fuck.” he was shuddering, trying to keep himself in check.

“don’t, oh god,” you started, meeting the roll of his hips. “don’t hold back.”

“we gotta go easy.”

“i don’t want easy.” you tightened around him then, and he saw stars.

“you’re so fucking good.” lando groaned, an edge of excitement in his voice, and then he unleashed everything that he’d held back. how much he wanted you, and a bittersweet weekend of frustration versus success came crashing down and he couldn’t do anything except give himself to you exactly how you wanted.

lando was a delicious weight on top of you, the drag of his hips slow, meeting yours hard. the pressure made you lightheaded, his body moving against yours like the thick drip of honey, smooth and sweet. you couldn’t make sense of it, of how fucking good he felt, grinding deeper and deeper into you like he’d found buried treasure. the overstimulation had your third orgasm building nice and quick, waves of pleasure making you dizzy.

“you like it like this? like when i fuck you nice and hard?” yes you did. “don’t think i can go without this now, you know that? such a good fucking girl.” you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, just let his words wash over you. “so beautiful, taking me so well.”

you couldn’t process that this was your best friend lando. this was a different person, it had to be. yet, somehow, it made sense that the man you knew, the one who spoke his mind, mischievous and troublesome, would be like this, a god above you as he fucked deeper into you with every thrust. he was filthy and gentle, brutal and sweet. it didn’t make sense, but it also just did.

“are you gonna come for me? one more time, baby. need to feel that perfect fucking pussy.” well, his wish was your command, because then you were gushing. the one thing you could feel was him, none of your other senses worked, you couldn’t see past the tears that fell, couldn’t get any words past your lips. maybe you screamed, you weren’t exactly sure.

lando was kissing you everywhere. each hip bone was met with his lips, your stomach, over your ribs, breasts, clavicle, neck. your face was covered in kisses next, your cheeks, forehead, a dainty peck to your nose.

“can you look at me?”

your eyes cracked open slowly, the exhaustion hitting as you came back to reality.

“was that okay?” there he was again, this shy version of lando that you couldn’t get used to.

“okay? lando that was…” you shook your head in awe. “that meant everything to me.”

he smiled then, that gorgeous, gorgeous smile, the one with the crinkles by his eyes and his teeth on full display. you melted.

“me too. you’re fucking beautiful. so, so fucking beautiful. should’ve told you sooner.” he murmured.

his words made you think, way too hard for your current state. what happened next? lando had said some things, some pretty big things that you didn’t know how to comprehend. it was crazy, how scared you were to bring it back up to him, considering he’d just been inside of you.

“sooner?” you whispered, hardly audible. lando was midway through tucking you both into bed, pulling your flushed, naked body into his own under the duvet.

“yes. a lot sooner.” he replied, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

‘how much sooner?’ you thought to yourself, unable to stay awake any longer to agonise over it, your dreams haunted by the way he touched you so well. it was magnificent to fall asleep in his arms, and you couldn’t help yourself from wondering when it would happen again.

you woke up tangled with him, fingers stroking your cheek, smoothing your hair out of your eyes.

lando was always so warm, but now his tanned skin radiated sunshine, a beacon of light in your bed. you smiled, eyes still shut, shielding yourself from the streaks of light casting over the room from the crack in the curtains.

“what time is it?” you croaked, bringing a hand to your eyes to rub away the sleep.

“gone eleven. i need to go, baby.”

baby.

you hadn’t gotten a chance to take my notice of the things he’d called you last night, too caught up in the way he played with your body. now that you heard it, in the calm after the storm, it made you swoon.

“already?” you tried to hide your disappointment, not quite ready to detangle yourself from him.

“need to get to the track. i think i’m already late. i just wanted to be here when you woke up.” lando sounded so soft, not as groggy as you, and you wondered how long he’d been awake, watching the soft rise and fall of your chest.

“thank you.” you knew that you’d have spiralled waking up alone, and you were immensely grateful that he’d stayed.

lando began to get up, wincing at your whine of protest.

“i’m sorry. i’ll have someone pick you up later, okay? i’ll see you soon, i promise.”

you knew he had to work hard today, knew how much analysis he needed to do before the race. he was starting further back than anyone would have liked, and he had something to prove as well, oscar starting too close to the front for lando’s liking. there were places to make up and hard work to be done to get back to the front.

“don’t apologise. i hope it goes smoothly today.” you smiled at him, watching him collect his long forgotten clothes. you were entranced by the way his body moved, the lines and shapes that tensed and rippled as he dressed himself.

“i’ll message you.” he promised, creeping back over to the bed. you weren’t sure what to expect, but the soft kiss to your lips, almost apprehensive on his part, could have killed you off, your heart pounding.

your grinned like a fool when the door shut behind him.

the shower was burning hot, loosening up your muscles. you cleaned yourself slowly, examining your body, the same one that you’d given to lando. he’d taken you apart, piece by piece, and put you back together, the traces of him that he’d left behind delectably apparent.

you followed the trail of marks he’d left, starting with the love bite below your right breast that you couldn’t even remember him leaving, making your way to the litter of fingerprints that were tattooed into your hips. your fingertips ghosted over your swollen lips, the kiss that he’d left at the junction between your neck and your shoulder, reminiscing the evening. you seemed to ache everywhere, the dull pain setting into your bones so nicely.

you prayed it would happen again. you felt like it would, everything between you had changed now, changed from any possible return to the norm. you wanted it to change, you couldn’t fathom the idea of staying friends when the lines had blurred like this, when he’d kissed you so deeply, touched you so intimately.

the shower was much needed, refreshing your body that was now tainted by him in the best way. you tried to keep a clear head while you got yourself ready, taking your time to make yourself presentable to the paddock. the time of your departure was looming, the pink and white sunset outside your window indicating that the race was only a few hours away. the air had cooled slightly, and you knew you needed to make your way to the lobby.

your phone dinged in your hand as you were packing your essentials into your bag. you glanced down at the device, unruly smile gracing your face.

see you soon, the text read, an orange love heart punctuating the short but sweet text. it was safe to say that the butterflies in your belly were well and truly alive.

the screen beeped as you scanned your paddock pass, and you slipped through the gate, making your way into the paddock. it was beautiful in qatar, they’d outdone themselves with this structure, the glass ceilings and jungle of greenery an expression of wealth and elegance.

you made a beeline for the mclaren garage, greeting lando’s pr officer who smiled warmly at you. you recognised oscar smirking as you appeared in the garage, and as you got closer you realised why.

“nice to see you. looking for lando?” his monotonous voice held an amused twang.

“hey oscar, great job last night!” you said, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “yeah, is he around here somewhere?”

“yeah he’s just doing press i think. extra spring in his step today.” oscar gave you a knowing look, one that made you blush.

“what do you know?” you deadpanned, fighting back laughter.

“i know that this was a long time coming.” he smiled, and then he was gone, lost to the bustle of the garage.

you stood there, probably in the way, lost in thought about what oscar had just said. he was right, this was a long time coming.

you jumped a bit when a hand landed on your waist, relaxing instantly into lando’s body when he pressed himself against you, head on your shoulder.

“i’m so glad you’re here.” he whispered, pressing a secret kiss under your ear, and then he, too, was gone, before you could even react.

your nerves were shot, ushered to the back of the garage where you found a headset. you chewed your nails, anxious about it all. the race, the changes that you were surely coming. you wanted it, wanted everything from him that he’d give you, willing to commit to all of it, to him. the distance, borrowed time, chaos of his world. last night had changed everything and you couldn’t have asked for more.

eventually the lights went out and the fight was underway. you found your hands clasped together, sweating in the dry heat and the anxiety. you clapped every time he made an overtake, storming through the field. when he made it into p3, picking the pace up on oscar, the nerves resurged and you prayed for a clean end to this race.

lando’s radio messages flooded your ears, and your leg bounced uncontrollably, your shoe slapping against the floor.

“be sensible, lando.” you muttered under your breath, resting your chin on your tightly clasped hands. he would be on the podium, but you knew it wasn’t enough for him, it never was. would you be enough for him?

eventually he agreed to hold position, thank fuck, and you could breathe again. he’d driven a beautiful recovery drive, bringing the car onto the podium, and you rushed out with the team to congratulate him. you lingered at the back of the pack behind the metal barriers, watching in quiet admiration as he jumped out of the car. he slapped oscar on the back, hugging his younger teammate before bounding towards the team. his head was darting around as if he was looking for something, but you couldn’t make it out with his helmet still on. and then the helmet came off and it became clear.

he was looking for you.

lando pulled away from a hug with a mechanic, leaning over the barrier right in front of you. you gravitated towards him, somehow moving through the swarm of team members until you were pressed against the metal too. he was beaming, eyes brighter than they had been all working weekend, and then his hands were on you. the hug he pulled you into was tight and you clung to one another for a moment, unbothered by his damp race suit, or the tickle of his sweat slicked curls.

the kiss he pressed to your cheek was far less secret than the one in the garage, so was the one he pressed to your forehead, but the one he pressed to your lips, as quick as it may have been, was the one that really took the cake. you were blushing when he pulled back, a mischievous grin on his face. you shook your head in disbelief at his boldness, unable to tame your bewildered smile.

“what are you doing for dinner, baby?” he called out to you as he walked away. the podium high had clearly set in.

nothing, you mouthed back, not quite confident enough to shout across parc ferme.

“good, we’re going on a date.” lando winked and then he was gone, pulled into the chaos of post race duties.

tears pricked your eyes when he stood on the podium, a much happier man than the one you found when you’d arrived. you couldn’t put it into words, how one night had changed everything, giving you everything you didn’t realise you wanted.

then again, lando was always good at beating expectations.

hehe the end

taglist

had to remove some tags that aren’t working! let me know if you wanna be added or removed xo

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moonshynecybin · 2 months ago

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hi, i hope this isn't weird but you're like a motogp scholar to me and i have a question bc i can't really find an answer; do you know of the medical specifics of marc's arm injury? like ik what happened but i haven't been able to find an article beyond oh he broke it. like is there a reason it's so bad and why he had to get multiple surgeries for it? like was it crushing nerve ends, grinding cartilidge, etc? tysm if u decide to answer

the best and most direct source for this is gonna be marc marquez all in. they’ll show you the bone scans and walk you through the rotation of how it healed and some info about the other surgeries etc but theres also a lot it leaves out about BEFORE that surgery so i'll try and help out. HUGE caveat that i’m not a doctor but the GENERAL info goes like this:

jerez, july 2020: marc fractures his right humerus after the tire of his bike hits it during a highside near the end of the race. he flies to barcelona, gets one million nails and a plate put in himself by perennial motogp bone saw doctor xavier mir, and hopes to show up the next week to race four days after surgery (also in jerez #covid)… at the time its all kinda standard if like. a lil crazy but he is honestly really flippant about the whole thing you get the sense that (like others before him) he kinda thinks what he’s doing is badass. i mean he’s postin this shit on instagram like LOOK AT MEEE

anyways so he is declared fit to ride (NO RADIAL NERVE DAMAGE YAYYY), the test for which seems to be doing decline porno pushups with his cock out. and it’s all kinda like. well this is a short, 13 round championship year, so every race counts and marc has just won four championships in a row (6 out of the last 7 years!!!) and has something fundamentally wrong in his brain. marc voice well yeah jorge lorenzo came back after collarbone surgery in 2013 and it depleted him for years but im different. im better. PLUS it’s alex’s first year in the premier class (also at factory honda which is a can of worms we shant get into) so he’s not as involved in monitoring his insane older brother as he is post-arm saga bc he has shit to do and marc hasn’t missed a GP due to injury at this point since his first bout of diplopia in 2011. hes broken his leg a few weeks before the season before and been fine. marc is marc. so he’s gonna try and race.

anyways! that doesn’t happen lol. marc DOES go out for all the practices (the death nell.) but it’s p clear that the arm is fucking busted. he stresses the injury the fuckkkk out (probably where the bone gets rotated? unsure) and then goes out for one lap of quali and can’t do it anymore, pulls out then and there and is like okay. i’ll rest on it

august 2020: now here’s where i’m like hm. because according to MARC, he is a perfect angel doing PT until he randomly opens a glass sliding door one day and the arm rebreaks (SHOULD be kinda impossible with all the hardware in him lol). i frankly suspect that he was also doing motorcross training to put more stress on it bc he mentions that his people have had to remove the wheels from his personal bikes to stop him from training before (to be fair i think this was during the shoulder rehab he was doing during the 2019/20 winter) and like. you don’t get that kinda policing from the guys who love you without some previous behaviors lmao. also literally he was posting himself doing weight training on that arm on tiktok the day before as evidenced below. i digress but the bone is broken!!! and he gets more surgery from dr. xavier mir. and oh boy does it heal wrong

so there’s not a lot of updates in this time bc marc is like. in his cave in cervera rehabbing like wow what a setback gee i sure can’t wait to be back on my bike… like i don’t think it had really set in that this was a lifelong injury yet. and unforch in december it’s revealed that the fracture is not healing, and he needs further surgery. this time he nixed dr mir and went to a specialist clinic in madrid (that’s partly why he moved there !!)

the clinic also discovered there was a previous infection in his bone, which probably halted the healing process further. it should be noted marc does not go to dr. mir for surgery anymore, which genuinely could mean absolutely nothing. he stayed in the hospital on iv antibiotics for ten days

after this and a LOT of time in the sling (12 weeks is best practice who knows what marc practice is lmao) he comes back to motogp in april of 2021 for the portuguese grand prix, with the stated goal of building up strength in his arm and evaluating where he’s at, which tells you how hard that last surgery was on him. in 2021 i think it starts to set in that this isn’t going to go away, and during this whole year and the next he’s in clear pain every time he’s on the bike AND the bike is kinda bad so its just awful hell lol. like yes he does win a few races but he cries every time and you can tell its really getting to him. this is the period that alex talks about where the pain is the worst, and marc is being mean to everyone around him, and he’s taking a lot of painkillers and complaining about having pimples/losing weight on instagram and generally having a miserable time. he calls this period "a nightmare" all the time

okay now we fast forward until 2022. marc has moved to madrid to get a girlfriend to see his bone doctor more. and the pain is NOT stopping. and the bike honestly sucks so hes not winning AND he just had a diplopia relapse so whats the POINT. and he's suffering and can feel the time in his career ticking downward like sand slipping through an hourglass and he goes to the all or nothing nuclear option and reaches out to the mayo clinic in the USA to see a specialist and see if he can do anything for him, disregarding the rest of the 2022 motogp season. and the specialist says yeah. we took a 3D scan of that bone you just spent a year of your life healing and it looks BUSTED AS HELL. truly from the stress he put on that thing while it was still healing it rotated 34 degrees and THATS part of why it hurts so much. its why he has no strength in his elbow, why he can’t brace anything with it, why his range of motion is so limited, why he can’t open a bottle of water by himself. it’s really degrading his quality of life, and most important to marc: its fucking with his riding lol.

and this doctor says well we break the bone again, rotate it back normally, and see how it goes. it could give you less pain and more ability to brake into corners. it could ALSO end your career. and marc sees the bone scans and agrees to surgery p much immediately. and he gets mayo clinic surgery in minnesota and takes hot girl instagram pics outside because of course he does. the craziest part of this article is when the surgeon says marc has "a great capacity for sacrifice"

and he gets another badass scar and thats where we are today! as to where the arm is now. well he says its isnt a normal arm but its more "uncomfy" in day to day life. i dont believe him but thats fine. like he DOES do a lot of maintenance on the arm i think thats fair to say. he has a limited range of motion. mat oxley says he'll wait until he thinks no one is watching and look like hes in pain when hes in the paddock. his gq interview w "essential things" included a massage gun and PT rubber bands. he stretches it out before races p extensively. he has a PT gurney in his living room. idk, he contradicts himself on this fairly regularly in order to suit his rhetorical needs at a given time, but im inclined to believe that hes in a LOT more pain than he lets on, he just also has more mobility to do sports things (his base level on his hierarchy of needs) and is in a lot less pain than he was in 2022. i think theres also a point that marc brings up in the documentary here that should be noted-- he emphasizes that he didnt do this to improve his quality of life (alex is the only one who mentions this actually, and HE makes a deliberate point to) but instead that he did it so he could win. i'd invite you to do with that information what you will !!!

sources: x, x, x, x, x, x

#this took. so long lol #callie speaks #asks #int #mgp

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 1 month ago

Text

❝KIM HONGJOONG❞

➾In Which: All of my hard thoughts about Hongjoong.

❥Kim Hongjoong x fem reader

➯a/n: written as fem reader but applies to gn reader as well !didn't put the taglist cause i didn't want to spam people (one post for each member coming). hongjoong is my bias so this is maybe a tiny, a smidge, a biiiit way overboard ➯other members versions here <3

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, headcanon / rant style

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatically correct i'm just yappin, rough and soft sex, praise and degradation, name calling, creampie + pull out, bondage, sex toys, pegging, wearing the captain arm band during sex (HHHHH WHERES MY CLOTHES-), kind of age play but not really at all ? (calling reader little girl / hj dumb boy), cock warming, regular slapping aaaand pussy slapping, orgasm control, cock + ball torture aaaand worship, choking, dacryphilia, head locking, nipple play, spit, french kissing + tongue sucking, extremely possessive, fat cock joong — i don't make the rules

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINOR FREE BLOG.

❝KIM HONGJOONG❞ is a dom leaning switch. i have an unbelievable amount of things to say so let's break it up by when's he's a sub + when he's a dom

➾calls you pretty no matter what. dom or sub, "pretty" is leaving his mouth (literally the first fic i ever posted on here is abt this). when he's a sub, he can't really say much more than that cause you're effectively shutting down his brain with a flood of pleasure. when he's a dom though ? you get called his: slut, whore, little girl, fuck toy, good girl, the list goes on and on and on... and he mixes it up, too ! pretty slut, sweet dumb baby, perfect fuck toy, silly whore, cum hungry angel, i'm gonna stop myself now-

➾kissing hongjoong always involves tongue ! even if it's a quick peck, he slips between your lips and kisses your tongue with his. before you both even start undressing in the bedroom, he's putting his tongue in your mouth and letting you suck on it as he trails his hands all over your body; getting you all hot and bothered with only his tongue flicking at yours and his hands over your clothes

➾when he's submissive he's almost as much a brat as wooyoung — which is to say, veryyyy fucking bratty. begging for more even when he can't take it without crying, telling you he wants your pussy on his cock and not some stupid toy in his ass even though he's cumming the second you hit his prostate while simultaneously jerking him off. he's very rough with you when he's dominant, so he lets to do the same to him when you are:

➾lets you pull his hair, slap him, pinch his nipples until he's begging, he doesn't know why; but he goes crazy when you tie him up and tease his cock and squeeze his balls until he's crying. likes it when call him all sorts of filthy things. his favorite might have to be dumb boy, because he cums the second you say it — especially if you're wearing his armband while domming him, mocking him by saying how is he really the captain ? he's such a weak, dumb boy right now, letting you fuck him in the ass.

➾if he's had a particularly rough day, he wants to just forget everything and you can help him do just that by tying him down and making him cum until he physically cant anymore. he'll beg you to slow down but he won't do anything to actually stop you because it's making him so pleasantly stupid how you jerk him off, how you ride him, how you thrust the dildo into him like you know exactly where to aim.

➾he's so clingy afterwards when he's been subbing, hugging you tight and nuzzling his face into your chest like an overgrown house cat while you rub his back and run your fingers through his hair while telling him how amazing he is (because he truly needs to hear it <3)

➾all of that above, though ? semi-rare occasions. hongjoong is mean and rough a good 70% of the time. he pulls your hair, pinches your nipples, slaps you while he's pounding every drop of his cum into you all while telling you that you'd better not cum unless you want him to slap your pussy for disobeying him.

➾puts a spreader bar between your legs and yanks you into his thrusts with it. chokes you in a headlock with his arm band chafing your skin as he fucks you from behind. holds a vibrator against your clit until you sob. bends you over the bed and shoves your face into the sheets while calling you his perfect, pretty, dumb little slut who's made to take his cock —

➾his cock !! i'm fucking drooling. thick more than long, four fingers isn't even enough to stretch you out for him. it always stings a bit and you always love it. he asks you if anyone else will ever fill you out like he does, or is this little cunt all his now? fucking goliath girth, and he knows it:

➾he pulls all the way out just to quickly fuck back into you and make you gasp again and again. all while saying how your cunt was made to take his fat length and how he's the only one who's ever gonna fuck you again especially after he's remolded the shape of your cunt to fit him — and only him — perfectly

➾he loves choking you, especially when he's cumming. wrapping both hands around your neck and spitting in your mouth and looking in your eyes as you beg for his cum, makes his entire body tingle. if he doesn't cum inside of you while saying how youre his — and only his, is that clear, little girl? — cum dump, he's spilling his release all over your stomach after pulling out at the last second so he can see you covered in him.

➾soft sex with hongjoong is soft. like a fluffy cloud or a pillow of cotton candy type soft: fingers laced together, slow and deep strokes, bodies molded together like you're snuggling and not fucking, he sucks on your skin and kisses your neck. quiet, breathy claims of "mine" as he fills you up and circles your clit slowly.

➾aftercare involves cock warming no ifs, ands, or buts. he stays buried inside of you while he rubs your head and whispers how much he loves you and how he means that you really are all his and he's all yours ♡

#ateez #ateez smut #smut fic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #kim hongjoong smut #kim hongjoong x reader #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong hard thoughts #hongjoong hard hours #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours

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rileygorski · 2 months ago

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more fluffy langdonmel headcanons because why not

okay we love protective langdon but what if it’s the reverse? they don’t tell anyone aside from the people who absolutely need to know (robby and hr). it’s a crazy saturday shift when the chairs are pact, tensions on the er floor and at chairs are astronomical—langdon takes a fist to the face when a fight breaks out, resulting in a broken nose, a possible concussion from hitting his head on the way down, and a black eye. samira asks if she should call his emergency contact (his ex-wife? maybe? she thinks just because they’re not together doesn’t mean she’s out of his life.)

and despite langdon’s efforts (“i swear to god, i’m fine. she doesn’t need to worry anymore than she already does.” “don’t call her. she needs the day off today.” “robby—jesus christ it fucking hurts!”), robby does it anyway.

“i told you i was fine.” he mumbles to no one in particular when he hears mel’s voice ten minutes later, frantic and asking dana what the hell happened.

“i’m fine, angel.” he tries to pacify but flinches when she touches his nose. “you don’t look fine, frank.” she retorts. it’s cold and passive, but the look etched into her eyes: of worry and concern and oh so much love says otherwise. he almost forgets the many pairs of eyes in their direction. almost. he sees the grin on whitaker’s face, mateo passing a twenty to perlah, a high five shared between santos and mckay. (“since when was mel his emergency contact?” langdon hears samira whisper to robby. “since uh, about six months ago..” he confirms.)

frank hates the healing stage because he can’t kiss mel for longer than a couple seconds and makes it everyone’s problem.

they’re good—great—at what they do. almost too good. knowing what equipment each other needs without having to speak, finishing each others thoughts like they share one brain. it’s magical when they’re paired together but a nightmare for literally anyone else who is with them. one time whitaker got roped into working a case with them and the whole time they spoke in half sentences he almost left the room. (“dr. king, can i get—“ “on it.” “dr. langdon, there’s bleeding in the—“ “i see it.”)

they’re also super professional. for the most part. little touches here and there are saved for moments in passing when they think no one is looking, but the air during a valentine’s day shift catches up to both of them. mel, usually hyperaware contact she’s giving, can’t seem to keep her hands to herself. brushing the hair out of his face, or wiping the sweat off his forehead during downtime spent at the nurse’s station. and langdon is ten times worse than any other day. (“look at my mel, isn’t she beautiful?”). all the staff are tired of him by the end of the shift. like he brings her up to every single patient for no fucking reason other than he can. he also leaves a rose in her locker every hour with little notes because he’s just that obsessed with her.

mel tried to bake him cupcakes which she also left in his locker but she’s terrible at cooking so it doesn’t come out as pretty as she’d like and langdon thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

“the least you could do is keep the eye fucking away from patient view.” santos tells him ten hours into the shift. he simply grins, stealing one more look at her. “if being in love is a crime, baby i’ll do the time.” santos leaves to find the nearest trash bin to hurl into.

#kingdon #the pitt #*hcs #frank langdon #mel king #hcs*

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zylokv · 3 months ago

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LOST IN TRANSLATION — J-LINE TWICE

" that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time. "

synopsis — it’s 3 a.m. in los angeles when you step into an elevator with momo, sana, and mina, unaware that they’re members of TWICE. while they joke about your height and looks in japanese, you stay quiet, until..

notice — i don’t speak japanese, so any japanese phrases used in this story were translated using reverso/google translate and might not be 100% accurate. please forgive any mistakes—and feel free to gently correct me if needed! this is all just for fun and vibes. pairing — sana x mina x hirai momo x reader. disclaimer ! this is a work of fiction. while TWICE is a real k-pop group, the characters in this story are fictionalized based on their public personalities. i do not own TWICE—i only own the story and original character(s). this was written purely for entertainment purposes, with respect to all individuals involved. genre — oneshot.

the streets of downtown los angeles looked like they were holding their breath.

3:07am.

los angeles at 3am was a different kind of quiet. not empty—but softened, like the whole city had exhaled and gone still. the distant hum of traffic was a low pulse in the background, and the air, warm from a lingering spring day, still carried the faint scent of car exhaust and jacaranda trees in bloom.

you were already regretting your decision to hit the gym this late, but there was no turning back now. the oversized hoodie hung loose over your frame, the sleeves hiding half your hands. your gym bag thumped lightly against your hip with each step. you had your headphones on— no music yet, just the silence that came before the rnb playlist started.

insomnia had won again. and when sleep didn’t come, movement did. the gym in the basement was open twenty-four hours, and the thought of hitting the bag for an hour seemed better than staring at your ceiling for the third night in a row.

you hit the button for the elevator with your knuckle, yawning into your sleeve.

ding.

the moment the doors slid open, your brain short-circuited.

three girls were already inside, laughing. loud. barely holding onto their food as they turned around mid-conversation. the scent hit you first—soy sauce, grilled meat, something fried and sweet, maybe donuts. it was like walking into a late-night food truck festival.

they looked up in unison.

one had dumplings in her mouth. literally. mid-bite. the second had strawberry milk in one hand and a chicken sandwich in the other, her expression stuck somewhere between surprise and delight. and the third—hood up, sleeves over her palms—blinked slowly like she hadn’t quite caught up yet.

you stepped in, the doors closing behind you.

the silence was immediate.

momo swallowed first.

“背の高い”

(tall.)

you heard it. clear as day. but you didn’t react. just lifted your water bottle to your lips, watching the elevator numbers tick down.

sana leaned in toward momo, stage-whispering like she wasn’t absolutely audible. " まって、LAの人ってこんなにストイックなの？”

(wait, are people in LA really this intense?)

“たぶん。” momo smirked, eyes dragging from your shoes to your hoodie to your face. “でも、めっちゃタイプ。”

(maybe. but they’re totally my type.)

you kept your face neutral, eyes forward. the air smelled like sesame oil and seaweed snacks and something caramelized. there was a crunch—sana tearing into what looked like a fried chicken sandwich with absolutely no shame. mina stood closest to the elevator buttons. she glanced at you, then down at the floor. then back at you.

“アメリカ人ってああいう感じかな。” she mumbled, half to herself. (i guess americans look like that.)

“ああいう感じってどんな感じ？” momo asked, nudging her.

(what do you mean ‘like that’?)

“なんか…かっこよくて静か。” mina replied.

(like… cool and quiet.)

“それもあなたの好みですか？” sana teased, nudging mina’s arm.

(is that your preference too?)

“彼らはあなたの言うことを聞くことができません、さあ。” sana elbowed her, snorting. “ここアメリカよ？絶対わかんない。”

(they can’t hear you, come on. we’re in america. there’s no way they understand.)

mina turned pink.

you bit your lip, just barely hiding the smile tugging at your mouth.they didn’t know. they really thought you couldn’t understand a word.

“わたしがタイプって言ったのに。” momo muttered, fake-offended.

(i already called dibs.)

“じゃあジャンケンで決めよう。” sana offered, mouth full.

(rock paper scissors for it, then.)

“餃子があるから無理。”

(i’m holding dumplings, i can’t.)

you finally moved—shifted your gym bag onto your other shoulder. the elevator made a soft ding. one more floor.

the scent of sesame oil and fried chicken filled your nose. momo’s shoulder brushed yours as the elevator moved. her arm stayed close. too close. you could feel the warmth through your hoodie.

“彼らの腕を見てください” momo whispered to sana, thinking she was being slick.

(listen, seriously look at their arms.)

sana giggled. “触りたい”

(i wanna touch.)

“私たちはそうすべきでしょうか？” momo asked, completely unserious but somehow entirely serious.

(should we?)

then your phone rang.

you picked it up without a word, answered with the calmest voice you could muster.

“兄さん、今ジムに行くの。”

(brother, i’m going to the gym now.)

dead silence.

it was instant. you didn’t even have to look to know their eyes were huge. but you did. you turned your head just enough to see them in the mirrored elevator wall—wide eyes, open mouths, and a dumpling midair in momo’s chopsticks.

you continued, casually. “エレベーターの中で面白いことを聞いたばかりだちょっと面白い”

(just heard some interesting stuff in the elevator. kinda funny.)

a strangled noise came from behind you.

“日本語…？” mina blinked.

(japanese..?)

“彼らは完璧にそれを話します..” sana whispered, scandalized and thrilled.

(they speak it perfectly..)

you hang up the slight sound evident. you turn your head slightly.

sana was slack-jawed, strawberry milk and chicken sandwich forgotten. momo was wide-eyed, mid-bite again. mina looked like she wanted to melt into the floor.

you gave them a slow smile—lazy, just a little smug. “ありがと。ちなみに、私はそれらの賛辞を早く聞きました。”

(thanks. i heard those compliments earlier, by the way.)

“やっば…” sana whispered, covering her face.

(oh no...) mina made a sound that might’ve been a laugh. or a squeak. maybe both. also looked like she wanted to disappear into her hoodie forever.

you took a step toward the door. paused. let the silence simmer. “君たち3人でゲームを決めよう。” you said, smiling. “誰が勝っても私は地下室にいるよ。”

(you three will decide who win. whoever wins ill be in the gym basement.)

ding.

you stepped out as the doors slid open, tossing a glance over your shoulder.

“「触りたい」ってことは…次回に取っておきましょう。”

(that whole ‘i wanna touch’ thing… we’ll save it for next time.)

the last thing you heard before the elevator doors closed?

“なぜ彼らはあなたのタイプだと大声で言ったのですか!？”

(why did you say out loud that they were your type!?)

"サナ、あの人に触れたいって言ったでしょ!"

(sana, you literally said you wanted to touch them!)

“やめて…” (please stop...) — mina.

kino's note — your sleep deprived writer is back! (sort of) missed my pretty girls and i got this inspo while out on a run at 6am

#kino's file #kino.#zylokv #kpop girls #mina imagines #twice mina #twice sana #mina x reader #myoui mina #myoui mina x reader #twice #twice oneshots #oneshot #zylokv files #kino's archives #twice momo #misamo

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darlingdaisyfarm · 1 month ago

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stan's having a bad day. fem!reader knows what will definitely lift his mood (she will show him her boobs) :р

i’m so glad we’re talking about this because i swear showing Stan ur boobs to cheer him up is necessary. this is so canon to me like you don’t understand 😭

i would do this to him every day, even when hes in a great mood

nsfw

imagine he’s stomping around the shack muttering to himself “these dang tourists, no one buys nothin’, everything’s overpriced blah blah and sweet moses !! Mabel left glitter in my laundry again” and you just kinda waltz over, smile and say “baby, wanna see somethin’ that’ll make you forget every single one of your problems?” and before he can even answer, bam. BOOBS. the eighth wonder of the world!!! agree agree tho

Stan STOPS. not a single brain cell left standing, only eyebrows scrunching up. and then he just mutters a hoarse “oh. yeah. okay. day’s already lookin’ up.”

he is so easy to please WTF. you could throw off his whole afternoon with just tiddies

and the funniest part is you know it works. like this isn’t the first time. this is the tried and true method. you see him clenching his jaw, muttering about tourists or smth or tourists asking stupid questions and you’re like. okay. time to bring out the heavy artillery

and sometimes you don’t even have to say anything ?? you just go up behind him while he’s reading bills and gently lean against him so that he can feel your breasts. and Stanley just sits there stunned for a second before going “you’re such a menace, princess. come sit on my lap.” please PLEASE Stan fuck PLEASEE

or or or he’s grumbling while eating a sandwich in the kitchen, elbows on the counter, and you just come in, lift your shirt with both hands and go “you wanna touch somethin’ better than salami?” AND HE’S ALREADY DROPPING THAT SANDWICH ON THE FLOOR. UGH he’s cupping them like it’s the first time all over again, calloused thick fingers always so fucking gentle towards his girl, thumbs brushing over your nipples. “sweet moses, ‘s like gettin’ hit by lightning every damn time, baby, huh” and then uhhh... then he kisses one <3

sometimes he acts all dramatic about it too like “don’t tempt me, sweetheart, i’ve had a long day” but then he’s already got your tits in his hands, he's stupid !!

and if you lean into him and let them brush against his cheek while giggling, “you feel better now, baby?” he’ll let out low grunt saying yeah. yeah, actually. i fuckin’ do

also bonus points if you’re in a public setting. like you're at the shack after-hours, still a few stragglers hanging around and Stan’s leaning against the counter looking worn the hell out. you catch his eye, give him this knowing little smirk and just discreetly pull down your shirt collar real quick so he gets a peek. and the man literally perks up !! :) shoulders back, eyes gleaming, suddenly ready to go out and scam a bus full of tourists because you believed in him and showed him your tits. motivational speaker who?? we only know breast encouragement

+ Stan loves laying his head on your tits. both mullet Stan and older Stan

when it’s mullet Stan, he acts all cocky, though he's so fucking tired, teasing “you got the best pillows in the state, sweetheart.” but then his eyes flutter shut two minutes later and he’s snoring against your cleavage with his mouth open and drooling a little !! and you can’t even be mad cuz it’s cute

“unghhh i fuckin’ needed this. lemme just die here okay? this is heaven. leave me. bury me in here” and he stays there. and PLEASE PLEASE stroke his hair while he’s there PLEASE. he’ll murmur some nonsense like “you’re an angel. don’t deserve you. softest place on earth right here.” 😭😭

older Stan tries to be casual about it, but he’s secretly just as attached to the routine. if you tease him like, “you want my chest again?” he’ll grumble, “well i sure as hell don’t wanna rest my face on a pillow full of feathers when i got a better one right here.”

sometimes he’ll even do this thing where he nuzzles into one side and gropes the other cuz he's possessive. he also has huge hands and he has nowhere to put them except on your boobs. and yeah, old habits die hard, so please stroke his hair while he’s there “that’s it, darlin’. ooohhh fuck. gonna fall asleep right here. don’t even wake me if the shack catches fire.”

i just think he deserves it :( every time. he deserves warmth and softness and little kisses between your breasts while he murmurs how much he fucking needed this today. he’ll bury his face in ‘em like “just gimme five minutes. then i’ll take out the trash. promise.”

he will always say thank you, too. every time. “thanks, babe. you're better than any therapy.”

#answered asks #gravity falls x reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x you #stanley pines x you

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nizhspo · 1 month ago

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pairing: satoru gojo x f!reader

synopsis: shibuya incodent, october 31st, 8:48 p.m.

content: smut (nsfw, 17+), angst undercurrent, canon timeline (shibuya arc), drunkenness, public sex (semi-private).

notes: i have not finished jjk i literally just hit this arc and decided i needed to write it. expect to see way more of this in the future i fucking love this show now.

shibuya’s gone strange.

october 31st was supposed to be a party—lights, laughs, costumes too thin for the chill, but now the world’s turning wrong.

under your feet, the pavement hums like it’s holding its breath. the station’s floodlights flicker overhead, caught in a haze of smoke and something heavier: something cursed, the energy thick and metallic on the back of your tongue.

the crowd’s panic is a tide, pulling and surging and collapsing in waves. people scream without direction. some run into walls. others stand still, staring at the curtain of warped space above.

the sky is like torn silk. it ripples unnaturally, pulsing with a kind of anti-light, like something holy in reverse.

and you… you’re just floating through it all.

tipsy off plum wine and the kind of fear that doesn’t feel real yet. your feet wobble in your white platform heels. your angel costume’s clinging to your skin, more vodka and sweat than polyester. a crooked halo bobs with each step, glowing faintly in the haze.

you’re laughing, for no good reason. maybe because you don’t want to cry. maybe because everyone else is crying.

and then the veil shudders, like it knows who’s coming. a beam of blue light slices the dark. cold and clean, heaven-colored and humming.

and then he steps through, and your breath stutters.

he’s tall. impossibly tall. his silhouette is straight out of a fever dream, long black coat billowing around lean legs, silver hair gleaming like a blade under moonlight. his face, at first, is obscured by the glare off his sunglasses, but then he turns his head just enough for you to see—

oh.

he doesn’t look real.

cheekbones carved like sculpture. lips that could lie or pray, depending on how he moved them. hair tousled like he’d just flown down from some war in heaven, still catching pieces of light in every strand. and his eyes, what little you catch behind tinted lenses, are bluer than the curse-choked sky above.

you forget to breathe.

he takes it all in with a lazy glance—the screaming, the sirens, the veil snapping behind him, and says, too casual, too fucking calm,

“my bad.”

your body moves before your brain does. you stumble toward him, grab onto his sleeve like he’s gravity and you’re tired of floating.

“you’re so fucking pretty,” you slur.

he pauses. cocks his head slightly, the corners of his mouth quirking up in bemusement. “huh?”

your fingers slide down the smooth line of his wrist. expensive fabric. coiled strength under it. “did you come out of heaven,” you murmur, eyes wide and dazed, “or am i just really drunk?”

his grin unfurls slow. dangerous. like he’s done this before.

“definitely drunk,” he says, tone like velvet. “but i like your taste in men.”

you laugh, hiccuping on it. “i lost my friends to that… wind thingy.” you wave vaguely behind you. “poof. like, gone. i was gonna cry but then i saw you. so i decided not to.”

his smile twitches, falters, almost just for a second. a breath passes, quiet and full of something you can’t name.

because he knows. and there’s a pit in his stomach, low, cold, leaden. it’s been there since the moment he crossed the threshold. since he felt the thickness of the curse energy in the air, tasted the iron weight of it on his tongue.

it feels like a trap. like one giant mouth waiting to close around him.

he doesn’t know how or why, not yet—but every inch of his soul is buzzing with warning. he hasn’t felt like this since suguru turned his back.

and still, he’s here.

he looks down at you, glittery eyes and messy lip gloss, drunk little smile, and thinks, maybe just for a moment, that it wouldn’t be so bad to forget.

“but if it’s the end of the world…” your voice trembles, light and lovely. “at least i’m with you.”

that’s what does it.

he glances at his watch. silver flash. eight forty-eight.

“ten minutes,” he mutters. “i can spare ten.”

“what?”

but he’s already tugging you with him, fast, smooth, practiced. like dancing. you follow blindly, heels clacking over shattered tile, past overturned chairs and cracked screens.

he slips into an empty shop with a busted door. broken mannequins, a register half-gutted. a single overhead light swings on its cord, casting warped shadows across the dusty linoleum. perfume bottles smashed underfoot. cracked glass glittering like ice on the floor. the air smells like smoke and old silk, something burnt sweet.

and then he’s kissing you.

not gently, not exactly, but like he’s trying to memorize your mouth. like he’s got ten minutes and needs you burned into him before they’re gone. your spine presses to the chipped wall behind you, the texture biting through your dress. cold plaster. warm hands.

his lips are plush and parted, tasting faintly of spearmint and something electric, like ozone before a storm. he kisses with purpose, tongue slow and steady, teeth catching your lower lip—like he knows every trick and has no shame using all of them.

you moan softly into his mouth, one hand fisting in his coat, the other sliding up his chest. beneath the fabric, he’s all hard muscle and lean strength, like a coiled spring. his heart is pounding against your palm.

he presses closer. the thick line of his thigh nudges between yours, high and firm, and you feel it, the deliberate roll of his hips as he grinds in. your dress hikes up in protest, bunched useless around your waist. the warmth of him slots perfectly against the soaked heat of your underwear.

you choke on a gasp, grinding down.

“what’s your name?” you whisper, your breath catching on his mouth.

his lips curve against yours, cocky but warm. “satoru.”

your fingers dig into his shoulders.

“satoru,” you echo, barely audible. it feels like the world might break in half, but you’re saying his name like a secret.

he makes a noise low in his throat, pleased, wrecked, and slides both hands to your ass, gripping hard enough to bruise. he lifts you slightly, pinning your hips with his, pressing harder against your core. you feel the thick press of him through his pants, hot and eager.

“you’re trouble, angel,” he mutters against your lips. “real bad trouble.”

you giggle, breathless, thighs tightening around his. “then punish me.”

his head tips back just slightly, silver hair catching the swaying light, and he actually growls. low and sharp. like he’s forgotten the entire city outside.

his zipper’s down in one practiced pull. he hisses as he frees himself, cock flushed and hard, already leaking. you can feel it, thick, heavy, pressed to your thigh. your mouth goes dry.

“fuck,” you whisper.

“mm,” he hums, a smirk in his voice. “not yet.”

you fumble in your costume’s thin folds, pull a small, crinkling square from the bodice. “i got a condom,” you pant, wide-eyed.

he snorts against your jaw. “you came to shibuya looking for god and brought a condom? now that’s optimism.”

your laugh stutters. “you don’t have one?”

“angel,” he drawls, guiding your hips as he kisses your throat, “i did not plan to be doing this tonight.”

and then he’s touching you again.

one hand sliding between your thighs, brushing aside soaked lace. he runs two fingers along you, spreading wetness before sliding them inside, curling just right. your hips buck and you cry out, biting into his shoulder.

“still drunk?”

“drunk enough not to care. sober enough to want this.”

his breath catches. that grin again, darker this time, shadowed with something sharp. he pulls his fingers out slow, watching the way your body clenches around nothing. he lets your underwear fall halfway down your thighs before turning you around, pushing you gently toward a cracked counter.

your palms hit dusty tile.

he’s behind you in a blink, his hips flush to your ass, cock grinding wet and heavy between your legs. he nudges the thick head along you, back and forth, teasing the slick mess he’s made of you.

you arch against him, gasping. “satoru…”

“shh,” he murmurs, leaning forward, towering over you, his breath hot on your neck. “almost.”

you reach back, trembling fingers wrapping around his length. he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth.

“jesus,” he groans as you guide him to your entrance, hot, aching, and he presses in, slow.

inch by inch.

your breath leaves in a shudder. he’s thick, stretching you open, dragging along nerves you didn’t know were there. your nails scrape the counter’s surface.

he groans deep in your ear. “fuck, you’re tight.”

the first thrust is deliberate, slow and anchoring. the second’s deeper. the third is a grind that leaves you gasping. he sets a rhythm that’s both frantic and focused, hips snapping up into you with slick, perfect precision. the wet sound of skin on skin fills the air.

your thighs tremble. your breath breaks. your dress is bunched at your waist and his hands are gripping your hips like he owns them.

he licks up your throat, bites your shoulder. “shit—” he pants, lips brushing your ear. “you’re gonna ruin me.”

your legs threaten to give. your moans spill helpless, face pressed to cold tile as he ruins you from behind. each thrust sends sparks through your spine. your body arches, muscles fluttering. you can feel it, that edge curling tight.

your voice is a gasp. “satoru, i’m gonna, i’m gonna—”

he laughs, breathless, a little cocky. his hand slides from your waist to your stomach, pulling you back flush against his chest. his hips don’t stop.

“already?” he pants, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “damn, i am good.”

he nips gently at your jaw as your body locks up around him, thighs trembling, slick and clenching, walls fluttering. you cry out, one hand scrambling for something solid, the other pressed to the tile as the wave hits.

you fall apart.

back arching, mouth open, hands fisting helplessly. you clench hard around him, and he doesn’t stop. not for a second. his pace stutters, just for a moment as you squeeze around him, but his smirk doesn’t fade.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, voice warm, wrecked, proud. “look at you…”

his pace stays filthy, relentless, the sound of it obscene. he’s panting into your neck, whispering curses, holding you through it.

then: his thrusts start to stutter, shallower, messier. his breath hits your neck in ragged bursts.

“fuck, i’m close,” he mutters, forehead pressing to your shoulder. “you want me to pull out or…?”

your head swims. you can’t think straight, let alone speak. “w-what?”

he huffs a half-laugh, hips grinding deep, voice tightening with restraint.

“c’mon,” he groans, grinning through clenched teeth. “help a guy out here, in or out?”

you moan, broken. “in. in. please—”

he groans, something between a laugh and a snarl, and buries himself. his whole body jerks. his head drops to your shoulder, jaw slack, breath catching like it hurts.

you feel it, thick and warm and pulsing deep. he groans into your shoulder, slumped over you, both of you shaking.

for one breath, two, there’s only silence.

then he pulls out, slow and sticky, and tucks himself back in with practiced grace. checks his watch. silver flash. 8:57.

he kisses your neck, your jaw, your temple. one last kiss to your lips, softer than before, like a ribbon tied around goodbye.

“well if it really is the end,” he says, barely above a whisper, “thanks for this.”

you touch his cheek, eyes dazed and full of something soft. “if it is… i’m glad it was with you.”

he doesn’t smile. doesn’t speak. just kisses you again, slow, aching, like he’s already saying goodbye.

“wish me luck,” he says, too casual to be anything but afraid. “hope we can do this again sometime.”

and then he’s gone.

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writingdarling · 14 days ago

Note

jealous ronin perhaps.. please and thank u 🙏

Jealous Like the Flame

you're so big brained anon...

anything I write with ronin comes off as horny for some reason idk why

also can you tell I just saw that shirtless ronin fanart by munstxr that man makes me slightly insane (praying V oiled-up is next tho you will not hear my ass shut up)

Content Warnings: Suggestive, Suggested Violence, Violence (?)

(Killer Chat) Ronin x Reader

Ronin’s jealousy is bright and burning, something you can't ignore.

And if you do ignore it ?

Well, something (or more often, someone) will be going up in flames (literal and non-literal).

It’s one of those rare times where Ronin actually brought you along to chill at the mechanic shop he works at. The two of you had a date planned after this, some fancy restaurant where you adore all of the food the chef makes, so you’re dressed in your finest.

Ronin isn’t wearing a shirt, claiming that he works better without the heat distracting him and you wonder whether you’d be going to Hell with the way you’re eyeing him up like he’s only a piece of meat.

Oh who are you kidding, you’re dating a serial killer. Pervy glances or not you’re still going to Hell, maybe somewhere even worse if such a thing existed.

Ronin grunts as he stands up straight, hands on his hips as he glares at the offending car’s engine. He turns to you, reaching out for the water bottle you were holding for him, drinking it down like it was the last bit of water on earth.

Lord Jesus Christ, you hate to take his name in vain but-

“I need to go to the front of the shop to grab a tool box darlin’, keep yourself occupied with the thoughts of my glistening bod will ya’ ?”

Ronin bends down, his eyes gleaming mischievously.

“Also my eyes are up here sunshine not down there-”

You hit him with the empty water bottle, feeling the heat in your ears.

“Shoo, shoo ! Go you fucking dog.” You place your hands over your ears, blocking out the literal barking noises Ronin’s making as he walks out of the workshop.

When you’re finally alone, you slump against the chair you’re sitting in and play with your phone, swinging your legs ever so slightly.

A figure moves in the corner of your eye and you see 3 other mechanics, deep in conversation. After a while, the other 2 shove one in your general direction and the guy seems to be trying to compose himself before he walks up to you.

“Um, hey ?” You look at him, a practiced perfectly social smile glides onto your face. You think of it as meeting a fan. Sweet but impersonal.

“So you, uh, you a friend of that guy huh ?” He leans against the wall, as if that would impress you. You can’t help but look at the sweat stains on his shirt and repress a shudder. Even sweat is so much more attractive on your boyfriend, it’s almost insane.

“He’s my boyfriend.” You offer him a way out, you know damn well if Ronin comes back now…your date night might become a slaughtering type of night.

“You…” He looks you up and down. Like you’re a piece of meat. Once again, only attractive when either you’re doing it to Ronin or vice versa.

“You can do sooo much better babe.” He leans closer and you wince.

Of course he doesn’t get the message, fucking cunt.

“I mean that guy, a few screws loose in the brain if you know what I mean.”

You let your smile twist into something more sinister, well-practiced over time with Angel’s help.

“Oh I know, that’s why I like him.”

He gapes at you, but not for long before a familiar hand latches onto his hair and he’s thrown backwards.

Ah, as you predicted, Ronin has his familiar “I’m going to murder someone and I’ll do it happily” look in his eyes, his grin slightly manic.

“Fuck are you looking at scumbag.” He growls as the man's friends help him up.

The guy that was talking to you rubs his head furiously and he yells something about telling their boss about Ronin’s behaviour.

Ronin’s hand squeezes the back of your neck, not enough to hurt but enough to send shivers down your spine. It’s a warning in itself, no explanations needed.

“Oh yeah, then I’ll tell him how many times I see you shitstains slackin’ off out back, smokin and leaving your damn cigarette butts everywhere.”

His tone is sharp, leaving no room for argument, as seen by the stunned silence coming from the group.

“Now fuck off to the front, before I stuff your head in the exhaust pipe and start revving.”

The three flee like a pack of rats and you can’t stop the giggle bubbling up in your chest.

Ronan scowls at you and leans down to squish your cheeks, an annoyed look on his face.

“Can’t bring you anywhere without some fuckin’ pervs laying their eyes and hands on you huh.”

He pinches your right cheek incredibly hard, as if releasing some of that anger onto you, in response you bite his palm, making him curse out loud.

“Fuck ! Ok, I deserved that.”

Ronin turns back to the car hood, slamming it down.

“Boss let me go early, wanna get back to my place so I can change and…”

Oh fuck he’s eyeing you in that way.

“I am not missing my damn dinner reservation cause you can’t control your libido.”

You snarl, crossing your arms for good measure.

Ronin pulls on his t-shirt, which does nothing to hide anything underneath it by the way.

“Yeah, yeah.” He extends his hand out to you and you take it, soon you’re pressing your face against his chest, admiring the way his eyes gleam in the light.

“When we get home, your fair game though.”

RAHHHHH

I need more mechanic ronin fics cause I go insane for a hard-working man

anywayyss, since I've done half of the current L.I's, I'll probably do either Angel or Misaki next

So you can look forward to that !

#killer chat #killer chat x reader #killer chat ronin #killer chat ronin x reader #ambrosia writes

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roryradz · 14 days ago

Text

young folks ⋆₊˚⊹ ࿔⋆ lukas radzevičius ft. katarsis

“it doesn’t matter what we do. where we are going to. we can stick around and see this night through” ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖

warnings : alcohol, language, fluff, implied smut, tiny age gap (yes again)

pairing : lukas radzevičius x female reader, all the other katarsis members x reader (platonic)

summary : a hot night after a concert in the scorching sun

word count : about 2.3k

you were already sweating before katarsis even hit the stage.

the heat was brutal—sticky, airless, relentless. the kind that made your clothes cling and your scalp prickle, the kind that turned crowds into puddles and turned clipboard paper soft at the edges. you’d long since given up hope your makeup would survive this day. your shirt was tied into a knot at your ribs, feet aching, brain buzzing from hours of prep and running around. but you didn’t care—not when they stepped onstage.

emilija had her bass slung low, a set off retro, 70s sunglasses crooked on her nose, cool as hell even with sweat dripping down her back.

jokūbas was already flushed two songs in, dark hairs soaked, arms moving at lightning speed behind the kit.

alanas looked seconds from combusting, black longsleeve soaked and stuck to his chest, yelling something indecipherable between riffs.

and lukas—your poor lukas was suffering. melting away. bleached hair darker with sweat, veins in his forearms visible with every guitar swing.

you hovered just offstage with the venue’s crew, big sunglasses shoved into your hair, cooler by your feet. the crowd was massive, but lukas kept catching your eye between verses—quick glances, half-smiles, the kind that said he was really only playing for you.

although he probably didn’t feel it, he looked good like this—present and radiant, with flushed cheeks and an aura that screamed freedom, almost glowing under the stage lights and setting sun. and you were proud. not just because he was yours, but because all of them were.

your chaos. your band. your idiots.

the final chorus of a song your heat fried brain really couldn’t recognize at the moment hit like thunder.

the crowd roared. they bowed—jokūbas nearly slipped, emilija flashed a sweet albeit characteristically awkward smile .

alanas dramatically flipped his hair like he was in a shampoo ad.

and then they were off, drenched and panting, collapsing backstage like they’d just run a marathon.

lukas found you first. he always did.

“you survived,” you said softly, holding out a bottle of water.

he took it with a groan. “barely.”

you let him lean into you, arms sliding around his middle to push his jacket he insisted on wearing off of him.

his skin was warm, his hair damp at the edges. he smelled like sunscreen and sweat and cheap hotel shampoo. your hands rested low on his back now only covered by a sticky shirt, fingers brushing the edge of his jeans.

still, he kept it lowkey—no wandering hands, no whispered innuendos like he sometimes threw your way when no one was around. just the quiet closeness that said i need you here.

“you good?” you asked, glancing up.

“better now,” he murmured.

emilija dropped onto the nearest bench with a dramatic grunt. “i think my brain boiled in my skull.”

“you looked cool doing it,” you offered, tossing her a popsicle.

“ačiū.”

alanas pulled the cooler you’d so thoughtfully filled with everyone favorite heatwave snack open and grabbed a slice of watermelon, juice dripping down his wrist. “i’d like to personally thank whoever packed this. you are angel. possibly god.”

“i’m literally your tour manager,” you deadpanned, smiling softly at the high praise from the guitarist.

“yes,” he said, mouth full. “a sexy, tiny god.”

lukas raised a brow at him.

“calm down, joking. she is like twelve,” alanas added quickly, alternating between eating the watermelon and the bag of chips you’d brought just for him.

“i’m twenty,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.

“exactly. twelve.”

jokūbas appeared behind you and dropped a towel over your head. “not surprised lukas went for someone younger.”

they teased you for a bit as they cooled off—tossing grapes into each other’s mouths, dousing their heads with water bottles, arguing over who missed the chord change in the bridge. lukas stayed close, his hand occasionally brushing your back, his shoulder pressed to yours.

he didn’t need to say anything. the way he looked at you said it all.

the van was hell.

the moment the doors closed, the heat wrapped around you like a thick, wet suffocating blanket. the air was stale, the seats sticky, and the ac was nothing more than a polite suggestion at this point.

jokūbas banged on the dashboard in frustration. alanas swore and stripped off another layer. emilija climbed into the back and laid down on the floor like she’d given up on life entirely.

you were wedged between lukas and the cooler, knees touching, one of his hands lazily resting on your lower back, underneath your shirt.

“this van is like oven,” he muttered.

“you chose this van.”

“mistakes were made.”

you tilted your head toward him. “you still doing okay?” you asked, your hand coming up to brush his bleached locks away from his sweaty forehead.

he nodded, forehead glistening, hair curling more than usual. “just fantasizing about cold showers and empty hotel rooms.”

you nudged his leg. “not in front of the others.” you said lowly, cheeks flaring with slight embarrassment.

“i said empty, not naked.”

“same thing, when you’re talking.”

he smirked, but didn’t push it. didn’t try anything. just let his fingers tap a rhythm against your leg, humming something under his breath you couldn’t quite place:

“we should do acoustic set next time,” jokūbas grumbled. “like, seated. under tree.”

“in norway,” added emilija. “in october.”

you leaned your head against lukas’s shoulder and closed your eyes. the heat was getting to all of you, but at least you were together. miserable, but together.

the hotel was plain but blessedly functional.

lukas handed over IDs while you spoke to the receptionist.

alanas tried (and failed) to charm his way into a room upgrade.

emilija was half-asleep on the luggage cart.

jokūbas was already asking for extra towels and “whatever ice the bar can spare.”

and then emilija pointed toward the back courtyard.

a pool.

an actual, real, glistening rectangle of salvation.

no one even spoke. just moved. sneakers kicked off, shirts dropped, bags abandoned.

you glance around the courtyard—everyone’s already halfway in, clothes flung over lounge chairs and socks abandoned in heaps.

lukas is still beside you, chest heaving faintly from the heat and the show and the long, sticky drive, his hand resting on the back of his neck.

you slip off your jean shorts first, slow and casual, revealing soft, high-cut cotton underwear in faded navy—nothing fancy, just comfortable, worn in all the right places.

then your shirt goes, peeled over your head and tossed beside your shoes, leaving you in a matching navy bra, the lace barely peeking along the edges. simple, but good. the kind of good that lukas never quite stops noticing.

he does a terrible job pretending not to stare.

you feel his eyes burn into you the second the shirt hits the ground. he shifts slightly, arms crossing, mouth twitching like he’s biting down a sound.

his gaze catches on the curve of your back, the line of your stomach, the way your bra strap slips ever so slightly off your shoulder before you nudge it back into place.

“you coming in?” you ask over your shoulder, already stepping toward the pool.

lukas blinks, breath catching. “yeah. yeah, just—dieve mano, mieloji”

you roll your eyes. “you’ve seen me in less.”

“and i plan to do that again tonight.”

you giggle as you dip a toe into the water, then glance back just in time to see him run a hand through his hair like he’s trying to cool himself off.

he didn’t even throw you in. he just took your hand, warm and damp and careful.

“we go together,” he murmured.

you let him lead you down the steps and into the water. it was freezing and glorious and made you gasp out loud, arms tightening around his neck.

“holy shit,” you whispered.

“best idea any of us ever had,” he whispered back.

around you, chaos bloomed—emilija cannonballing, jokūbas trying to do synchronized swimming moves, alanas floating like a corpse with tattoos on his legs and sunglasses on his nose.

laughter echoed. splashing flew. your skin prickled from the cold but it felt like heaven.

lukas pulled you into his chest, arms around your waist, the water sloshing at your sides. his eyes were soft now, his expression quiet.

“you are the only reason we survive these shows,” he said.

you smiled against his collarbone. “you’re lucky i like you guys.”

“you are especially lucky i do not get all grabby in public.”

“you’re doing great, honestly.”

he smirked and kissed the side of your head, “mano meile.” he cooed softly.

after a while, you all dragged yourselves out—wet hair, dripping clothes, soft towels stolen from the front desk. someone ordered pizza.

someone else found cold beers and tubs of ice cream left over in the cooler that somehow survived the first raid

you sat curled into lukas’s hoodie, the sleeves swallowing your hands, the hem brushing the tops of your thighs.

the cotton smelled like him—salt and sweat and faint cologne, sun-warmed and familiar.

you were tucked neatly between his legs on the lounger, your back resting against his chest, the slow rhythm of his breathing moving through your spine.

his arm was slung low around your waist, hand splayed possessively over your stomach, fingers slipping just beneath the hem of the hoodie every now and then. casual, but not really.

his mouth brushed your shoulder, then your neck—slow, absent-minded, like he couldn’t help himself.

like he wasn’t even thinking about it anymore. your skin, still damp from the pool, prickled under his touch.

you felt his fingers flex just slightly against your stomach, his thumb drawing small circles. not suggestive, not obvious. but definitely not innocent.

you shifted a little in his lap, and he leaned in closer, voice low against your ear.

“you keep moving like that and i will not survive rest of tonight.”

“not my fault you can’t handle a bit of friction,” you murmured, head tilting back against his shoulder.

he hummed—half laugh, half groan—and pressed a slow, deliberate kiss just behind your ear. “i am handling it, bet vos vos”

you smirked, biting back a reply, feeling his breath catch behind you. his other hand came up to brush your hair off your neck, fingers lingering a little too long.

you could feel the tension in his thighs beneath you, the way his body was coiled, restrained. his friends were only a few meters away, still talking and laughing by the edge of the pool—but lukas’s focus was entirely on you, his touch quiet but filled with promise.

he wasn’t going to make a move here, not in front of the others. he never did. but his grip on your waist tightened ever so slightly, his mouth brushing your temple like a silent warning:

“you know,” said emilija, licking a popsicle, “we might actually survive this tour if we just… don’t leave pool”

“we will have to,” said jokūbas, “but i vote we never drive again.”

“we just need van with ac,” alanas muttered, half-asleep.

lukas looked at you, and despite the sweat and chlorine and exhaustion in his eyes, he was smiling.

“you warm enough?” lukas asked after a while, lips brushing your temple.

you hummed, nodding into his chest. “you make a good radiator.”

“romantic.”

you smiled. “i have my moments.”

he didn’t say anything for a while—just rested his chin on your head and watched the others, scroll on their phones or lull asleep slowly, meanwhile feeling fingers tracing a slow, aimless pattern across your hip. the kind of touch that didn’t ask for anything. the kind that meant everything.

“you okay?” you asked for the third time tonight, finally tilting your head to look at him.

he looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him tethered. not in a heavy way. just… anchored. like everything outside this courtyard could spin and melt and collapse, and he’d still be here, exactly like this.

“yes,” he said softly. “you?”

you nodded. “yeah.”

he studied you for a moment—eyes catching on your mouth, your collarbone, the curve of your cheek still warm from the sun. then, quieter: “we sneak upstairs now?”

you blinked. “subtle.”

“restraining myself,” he said, voice dry.

you bit back a smile. “five more minutes. they’ll notice.”

“fine,” he sighed, dramatic. “five.”

you both fell quiet again, but there was a shift between you now—charged, unspoken, crackling beneath the softness. you felt it in the way his hand pressed a little firmer at your waist, in the way his thumb traced just under the hem of the hoodie you wore. in the way he kissed your shoulder like he was already thinking about later.

#alanas brasas #eurovision #eurovision 2025 #jokūbas andriulis #katarsis #lukas radzevicius x reader #lukas radzevičius

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lush-escape · 2 months ago

Text

INDIGO

Part 10

Southern!Jason Todd x Reader

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 || Part 10 ||

Part 11 || Part 12 || Epilogue ||

a/n: there is no plot to this it's literally just smut, so if you're not comfortable with that you're more than welcome to skip this chapter without missing any plot <3 I also wrote this at work with a terrible migraine soooo hopefully it makes sense bc I didn't edit it much lmao

He leans down, his head gently nuzzling your neck, pressing a soft kiss to your throat.

His hand slides down your neck and then your shoulder pulling at the neckline of your shirt. His touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in its wake. He leans onto his right side but doesn't move from laying on top of you, giving himself more leverage to run his left hand over your stomach.

Jason's lips trail kisses down your neck, his hand roaming. His touch is gentle, almost worshipful. He's cataloguing each part of you, memorizing the way your body feels, your warmth and softness.

There's a quiet urgency to his touch. Jason's actions are gentle, his kisses soft, but there's a hint of desperation in the way he touches you, the way his fingers dig into your skin as if afraid you'll slip from his grip. It's as if he's trying to hold onto something that's already slipping away.

His mouth follows the line of your collarbone, his lips pressing soft, wet kisses against your skin. His hands slide under your shirt, his warm palm flat against your skin, fingers tracing lines across your stomach.

Your hand never leaves his hair, the soft thickness helps to ground you. Blunt fingernails dig into freckled skin of his shoulder leaving half moon shapes behind. Your head tilts to the side as a soft hum of approval leaves the back of your throat.

Your soft hum hits Jason's ear, the sound reverberating through him like a shot of lightening. Each sound you make drives him to work harder. Kisses turn into nips, teeth grazing your skin as a low moan rumbles in his chest. He's taking his time with you, mapping out your skin like uncharted territory.

He lifts up his head, locking eyes with you. His eyes are dark, almost feral, as he looks you over, like he's seeing you for the first time.

You whine at the lack of touch, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you suck in a sharp breath. Your back arches in Jason as if you're chasing after him.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that?" You ask quietly.

Jason lets out a low, rough laugh as you arch into him. He leans down until his face is only an inch from yours.

"Just taking in the view, darlin'... You look damn near angelic." He murmurs, tracing his fingers down your jawline.

"I ain't ever seen a sight more beautiful than you." He continues, his touch trailing slowly down your neck.

And in the back of your head you know this is a bad idea. You know you're going to be leaving and that this will only make the goodbye hurt even more.

"Well aren't you just a sweet talker?" Your eyes flutter shut and you take in a deep breath. You move my leg, hitch it up, letting your inner thigh brush against his outer thigh and hip.

Jason's hand dips down, and he grabs ahold of your leg that's rubbing against him, his fingers gripping your thigh.

"Maybe I am, darlin'. But ain't nothin' sweet about what I'm gonna do to you." He smirks. A shiver runs down your spine.

He punctuates his sentence by pressing a hot kiss to your neck, teeth grazing your skin, causing you to shiver. He pulls your leg up further, draping it over his hip. Jason presses his lower body against you, the thick muscles expanse of his thighs pin yours to the bed.

"Jay, baby," the pet name slips out easily, "if you don't hurry up-" your brain is a foggy haze.

Jason laughs softly against your neck, his fingers gripping you harder, his hips rolling against yours. His grip is strong.

"Don't you start gettin' all bossy with me, baby girl..." He murmurs, his lips never leaving your neck.

Christ.

"This needs to come'ff." You mumble as you begin pulling at his shirt with both hands. "Please, please, please-" you practically whine.

Jason chuckles as you start tugging at his shirt, lifting his arms and letting you pull the article of clothing off. His upper body is on full display - large broad shoulders, tan, smooth skin, and hard chest, covered in the same freckles that pepper his arms and face. He presses a hot kiss to your neck, smiling against your skin.

"You're a pushy little thing, ain't ya?" He murmurs, nipping at your ear.

You breath catches in your throat and you run your hands down Jason's chest, nails leaning behind faint red scratches. You want to kiss each and every single little freckle that adorns his skin.

"Jay, I can't wait much longer baby." Your hips roll him into his on their own.

Jason lets out a soft, guttural sound, his breathing heavier now as he feels you rolling up into him. His hand tightens on your thigh, holding you in place as he grinds down against you, you moan in return. An unspoken thank you.

"You impatient little hellion.." He mutters with a smirk, his voice gruff and low. "I'll give you what you want, darlin'..."

Time seems to slow down, you're trapped in that moment between reality and a dream. Jason's chest rises and falls with each ragged breath he takes. His muscled abdomen clenches as he grips your hip and his other hand in the sheets. Fingers dig deep until his knuckles are white. But all you can focus on is Jason.

"Gonna give you what you want," Jason repeats against your neck.

"Yeah?" You pant. Your clothes are discarded somewhere on the bedroom floor and you have a brief moment of clarity where you're thankful you've already packed your stuffed animals away.

Jason's chest is pressed against yours, the heat between Jason and yourself continues to rise.

"You gonna treat me real good, Jay baby?" You coo.

Jason lifts his head from your neck, his face mere inches from your own. His eyes are dark and heavy, his breathing heavy as he tries to pull himself together under your touch.

"Yeah, darlin'. I'm gonna treat you so damn good." He mutters as his fingers trailing down your waist. He swallows, his words thick with desire. He pulls back just enough to look down at you, his gaze roaming over your body, his expression hungry.

He shifts onto his knees, settling himself between your legs. He takes your ankle into his hand, lifting it, and presses a soft kiss to your ankle. He hooks it over his shoulder with a small grunt.

"Jay-" you gasp, eyes rolling to the back of your head, "you're killin' me here." You hook your other leg around his thigh.

Jason pulls another gasp out of you as he grinds against your, creating a torturous friction that your hips try to chase. Jason lets that sound leave your lips before grinning, grinding against you again, harder, rougher than before. His hand on your thigh tightens.

"I ain't even started yet, darlin'. Think you can take it?" He mutters, his words sending a shiver up your spine.

You whine and it's an obscene mix of pathetic and needy.

"Fuck, yes. Yeah, yeah I can. I can take it." You mumble. You feel like you're on the verge of wanting to cry from the way Jason teases you.

All you can focus on is the feeling of him as he rubs his length against your already dampening skin. You don't have the wherewithall to be embarrassed about the pleading whimpers that leave your mouth.

Jason's breath is heavy, his eyes dark and heavy as his gaze roams over your body, taking in your reactions.

"Christ, you're already so damn wet," He mutters, his own voice thick with arousal. He runs his length against you again, teasing you, his hand drifting down to rub his thumb over your clit.

You gasp, loud and sharp. Your hips move on their own again and Jason moves his hand to your hip to still your motions.

"Yer a needy little thing," he mumbles as he places another kiss to the inside of your ankle. "A'right, I got you baby girl." Jason feels like he's murmuring nonsense but he can't wait a second longer.

Holding the base of his cock he lines himself up and slowly pushes into you.

"Fuck-" He moans, the sound low and deep. His head falls back as he swallows and his Adam's apple bobs up and down. "Christ yer tight," his head tilts to the side, his cheek resting against your ankle.

Your hands grip the sheets of your bed. The gasp he pulls from you quickly melts into a moan. You'd think he was trying to kill you the way he slowly inches his way into you.

The sloppy open mouthed kisses he leaves against your skin would be bordering sinful if his touch wasn't reverent. He was worshipping you. Every touch gentle, every thrust slow and tender.

It wasn't that he was afraid to hurt you, no. He knew you could handle anything he gave you like you were made for him. That was the reason he was taking his time. You were made for him and he wants to savor every second he has with you.

Jason pulls back slowly until just the head of his cock is left inside and then he's roughly slamming back into you. He places his palm against your lower stomach and mutters a curse.

"Can- I can feel- fuck," he can't even gets his words out. He pushes down and you whine. The pleasure shoots down your spine and your toes curl. Each thrust is met with another sinful moan from your lips.

"So good, Jay.. so- don't stop. Please." Your words are airy, your face scrunches in pleasure.

Jason grunts, eyes dark and heavy as he watches your every reaction. His movements are controlled, taking his time, savoring each drag of his cock inside of you. He places a kiss against the sensitive skin of your ankle, his tongue flicking out to taste your skin, before he replies.

"You feel so damn good, baby girl..." He rasps, his voice thick with desire. You clench around him at the praise and he hisses in return. You barely hear him as he murmurs another curse under his breath. His rhythm is less steady now, hips jerking as he's bottoming out into you.

He's starting to lose control, his movements becoming more erratic. Jason grabs your thighs and pushes you into a mating press that knocks the air out of your lungs.

"Fuck, Jay-" You whine. You're not longer trying to hold back your moans as they swirl together with the sound of skin slapping against skin.

"I ain't gonna last-" He grunts, his breath ragged and hot against your skin. "You feel too good, baby girl. Gonna have me cumin' before I even get the chance-"

His tip his kissing your cervix in this new position, the pleasure is too much and you start to feel a dull pulsating warmth in your cunt. Sweat starts to bead against your skin. You whimper and reach for Jason, your fingers digging in his hair to pull him closer.

Soft needy pleas of "don't stop" and "right there" leave your lips. Your soft warm walls clench tightly around Jason as your orgasm hits you. A white heat spreads through your veins.

"Jay, fuck-!"

“Sweet Jesus,” he moans, his voice thick. "Gotchu baby girl, I- fuck," Jason pants as he fucks you through your orgasm. You're certain you hear him say something about how close he is but you can barely register anything.

One, two, three more thrusts before Jason is pulling out with a gasp. You whine at the loss. His pumps his cock in his hand twice before he's spilling hot thick ropes of sticky, sweet cum over your glistening cunt. He's never seen anything more beautiful.

"Holy shit, baby girl." He swallows dryly, his Adam's apple bobbing. Gently, he lowers your legs and smooths your hair. The soft morning light casts a shine on the sweat that's formed on his chest.

"Hold on, darlin', I'll getcha cleaned up in just a second here. Just gotta.. gotta catch my breath." He chuckles breathlessly, you nod in response still coming down from your high.

__________

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