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fairene · 5 months ago

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beneath the moonlight / ln4

vacay lando norris x maxf!littlesister

no use of y/n, as always.

prompt ⋯ ohhh hey ! wanted to stop by to say i love ur fic and wanted to request insatiable lando with max f’s sister like a forbidden summer fling with all their friends and no one’s supposed to know about their secret relationship ( especially max ) — @444mercss

a/n ⋯ this was much longer than i intended, but the words just kept flowing out of me. thank you to all those who beta read my post and helped with grammar!!! ( @jamminvroomvroom , @theonottsbxtch ) you all helped so much. and thank you to mercs for requesting this. i didn't know i'd enjoy it as much as i did, but it definitely was for 20k words. i'll probably take a week ( or maybe not ) off from writing just to give myself a cool down period, but still here to answer any asks. feel free to pop in. hope you all enjoy this, and remember, readers looks are up for interpretation, along with the outfits. colors of coloring are mention only briefly!

warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drinking, choking, p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, oral(m+f)!receiving, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, feral lando. best friends little sister, brothers best friend dynamic, mutual pining, 'games', horny thoughts. much, much more. but even, possession, jealousy. if i forgot any warnings, feel free to let me know.

wc ⋯ 20.1k (WHEWWW WEEE... edited by @jamminvroomvroom, @theonottsbxtch)

the summertime was one of your favorites. you and all of the rest of your girlfriend’s would spend each and every day together without question. but as time went on, they got their own lives. partners, engagements, jobs. not to say that you weren’t an accomplished young lady, but it was starting to show that you were hung up on a life that was starting to fade.

your brother on the other hand, was keen on keeping you in this life. in tip top shape on your toes, he’d always challenge you in a multitude of ways. or annoy you to no end. typically it was the latter.

but he had invited you this summer on vacation with his friends. you knew them all relatively well, texted here and there, but you never imagined to be trailing along on a villa getaway sponsored by the quadrant house, mainly the famous lando norris himself.

you would be shy to admit it, but you had a bit of a soft spot for lando. him and his cheeky smile. the moles that donned his face. his starlit eyes that radiated an emerald hue beneath the sunlight. it was intangible the way that you could pick apart the details about his nuanced beauty, but it was a secret for you to keep. a secret that no one, especially your brother, could ever find out about.

but that’s all that it was, wasn’t it?

a dream. a pathetic fantasy. you wouldn’t ever gain the courage to talk to him, make a move, despite how often him and max talk about going on dates with girls. talking about his love life, or the rather drab there of. he fucked around a lot, max knew that, and would consistently warn you to never get wrapped up in the same lifestyle as the british driver. you’d hold up your hands in defense, shrieking a ‘don’t worry about me,’ though you wish you gave him a reason to.

why did you feel undeserving of lando– because he was a formula one driver? attractive? charming? were you afraid that you were going to be friendzoned–? oh god, that would be the fucking worst, wouldn’t it? you could never imagine the hangouts being the same. so you’d bite your tongue until it bled, even when your body yearned for the heat of his own.

the villa that you would be staying at was on lake como in italy. it was a beautiful venue, a place that you’d been dreaming of visiting. max knew this, hence why he’d probably sniped you an invite. but it wasn’t like no one wanted you there. everyone did. that was the problem. you were so incredibly loved by all of max’s friends, that he kept them at arm’s length. no one would ever hurt his little sister. not while he was still breathing.

“wow,” you breathed, stepping out of the uber from the airport. the house before you was a stunning makeup of eccentric architecture that dated decades before your own birth. it was a grand building with tall, marble columns. thoroughly decorated landscaping, and even had running fountains in the front. you were so lost in your awe that you didn’t see the huge pair of mahogany doors swing open.

“max,” you turned your head towards your brother who was grabbing your bags from the trunk. you shifted to the source of the voice, finding the british driver standing barefoot with a beach flannel and short-inseam khaki shorts low around his waist. you gulped before looking anywhere else but him.

“lando!” max approached him, arm outstretched for a shake. lando met him half way down the marbled steps, taking his sunglasses off from the top of his head.

“how was the flight, mate? good?” max nodded for the both of you whilst you fiddled with the accessories around your hands. you didn’t ever know what to say to lando. you found yourself unbelievably speechless in his presence.

“not too bad, ‘specially if this is what you’ve got.” lando chuckled at your brother’s words, and then his eyes finally landed on you. you and your comfortable outfit from the plane ride over. you and your pulled back hair, respectfully messy, and the jewelry that adorned your fingers. his eyes caught over the bling, and how you anxiously picked away at the skin.

“never thought she’d grace our presence,” lando said jokingly, which had your head snapping upright. you flushed, sucking your bottom lip with your teeth.

max rolled his eyes, avoidant of the topic of you in general. “whatever, mate, she’s here now, in’she?” what? what was that supposed to mean? was your presence requested? you suddenly felt wanted above all things.

“she certainly is.” lando approached you with his tongue tucked behind his bottom lip, hasty in his steps. you stood up straighter with a light smile on your face, eyes twinkling away from his own. you couldn’t keep eye contact with him. “c’mon, love, i’ll take your bags.”

“are you sure? i can take–”

the bags were grabbed from your hands. you felt the palm of his own for just a moment— the warm flesh, humming low against his own. you felt like he spoke to you through your blood, but you let it go. lando norris wasn’t giving you special attention, that’s for sure.

you promised yourself that much. this whimsical, airy crush of yours needed to be vetted on the spot. he was your brother’s best friend, older than you, and certainly didn’t have time for a girl who wasn’t a celebrity.

right?

he took your bags through the exquisite villa. the interior was even more luxurious than you could ever imagine– floor to ceiling windows, candlelit ceiling lights, flora decorating each wall that you turned to. it smelled delectable, too, wafting germanium and coconut oil. the smile on your face couldn’t be ignored, as you shimmered brighter than the summer sun.

“you like it, then?” came lando’s voice. your head dropped, glancing at him from where he stood, waiting for you to join him on the steps. had he been watching your face?

“you’re joking.” you assured, hands clasped together. “it’s beautiful.”

lando smiled then, too, letting his lower lip snatch between his top teeth. he tried hard to conceal his happiness, but you felt like you could feel it amongst the air. you felt warm all of a sudden and cleared your throat, urging him forward up the spiraling staircase.

you walked in silence with him down the long corridors. you would pause before each door briefly, wondering if he was going to open it, but he didn’t. it wasn’t until you were reaching the ends of the hallway when he stopped, twisting the knob of the white wooden door. he stood aside, letting you in first.

the room you’d be staying in for the next few weeks was more than you could ever dream of. with its spacious interior, personal bathroom, and private balcony, you felt like the luckiest girl alive to be able to experience this. to live in this moment. to be here. in italy, of all places.

lando interrupted your dreaming haze by sliding the bags in. you turned to face him in your unruly, exhausted glory, and he stared at you. a hand of his found the back of his neck.

“so…dinner tonight at seven, pool day tomorrow, um…” he looked around, acting as if he could suddenly have the words appear into his head. “oh and, if you need anything, my room’s just next door.”

he said it with haste, as if he were shy about the fact, and was already stepping out the door.

“wait,” you said, stepping forward. lando hung back, gripping onto the door frame, swinging his head back into the room. “thank you.”

the words seemed to hit him harder than you thought that it would. he blushed a light red, dimming his tanned face, and cleared his throat before nodding. “of course.” he said with out hesitance, making it clear that he would do this for anyone. “‘m glad you’re here.”

and then he was gone.

you stared at the shut door in stunned silence. did you really hear him correctly?

you didn’t let your thoughts linger too long, but you couldn’t help but let it. the curly-haired brunette stayed in your mind whilst you settled in and unpacked. all ounce of his shy, gaunt nature.

by the evening you were more than settled and relaxed. you’d taken a small nap to rejuvenate your energy, and just in the nick of time for dinner. you got ready amply, sliding a comfortable dress over the surface of your body. the straps were thin and fell loose upon your collarbones. you’d pair an elegant pair of low rise heels on your feet, pointy-toed, that matched the color of your dress.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, the dim yellow lighting illuminating the corners of your face that you so frequently forgot to appreciate. it was in the hours of the night that you could appreciate yourself, unopposed to the gawking looks of strangers.

there was a soft knock on your door at 6:57. you turned, dress swaying from your movements, and cracked it open.

lando stood there on the other side. him and his dark shirt and khaki pants. he wore a pair of leather black loafers that matched his shirt. he smelled good, too, a masculine tint of sauvage.

no words were spoken between the two of you. you simply stared at one another, lost in each other’s features. you resisted the urge to trace the moles on his face with a finger, whilst he fought himself to not reach out and run his hands along the fabric of your dress.

his eyes softened when you met his, cheeks filled with a simple kind of joy. the two of you were done ogling at one another, still foreign in each other’s presence.

“ready?” he asked. you nodded, grabbing a matching handbag from the countertop and slung it over your arm. you shut the door to your room behind you and walked a few paces behind lando. you weren’t close with him like that to walk side by side.

or so you thought.

he dragged his feet to slow his pace, coming parallel to your side. he held his breath for a moment, turning to look at the exposed skin from your dress. you caught his wandering eyes and looked up at him, wandering beneath his emerald depths.

“what?” you asked tenderly, voice hitching in your throat.

“nothing.” he turned his head to face back forward. “just haven’t seen you in a while, that’s all.”

that was an understatement. you haven’t seen lando in almost three years. max had done a stellar job of wanting to keep you separated from his friends, though you weren’t upset about it. you had your own life, and that was perfectly enough for you.

but you were a girl with a heart full of wanderlust, and often dreamed of what you could’ve had. there was a marksmith of delusion prodding the hidden parts of your brain, working tirelessly to pick apart the small interactions you’ve had with lando over the years.

when you turned 18, he brought you to an exclusive club and showered you with gifts, alcohol, and even more. it was a night you wouldn’t forget, feeling lucky enough to manage a dance with him on the dance floor. his hands hovered above your body, the warmth seeping through your skin, rattling your bones. he even got so close to your face that you could feel his breath. smell the alcohol that reeked from him.

you thought you were going to kiss.

and so did he.

but your brother separated the two of you, calling lando over for a group shot. you were left there, stranded on the dance floor, with the phantom touch of a man that you knew you could never have. it pained you to admit such a truth to yourself, but it didn’t loiter. you had a life to get back to, not indulge some silly, fanatical dream that kept you up late at night as a teenager. lando norris was the fantasy, never to become a reality.

though, every time in presence, you’d manage to falter. set those delusions free the second he’d act kindly to you; gentle, tender tenacity that you believed would be special to you. max’s little sister. that’s all you were, though, weren’t you?

“you’ve been well, haven’t you?” you asked him with a hum, holding your bag with both hands in front of you. the leather piece bucked against your abdomen. lando watched, peering to see if he could hold it for you.

“‘course. living my dream, aren’t i?” you’d made it to the end of the hallway. the top of the staircase.

“it’s not a dream.” you said with a softer intonation. he looked back towards you with a raised brow. “it’s reality now, i’d reckon.”

he smiled.

the two of you made it down the steps. you lingered in the grand foyer, beneath the candlelit chandelier. it was still light outside, but the sun was beginning to set. it had created a pink and blue hue over the water’s edge.

but you weren’t looking at the water’s edge.

you were looking at lando. your brother’s best friend. he had his hands in his pockets, facing the open living room, rocking back and forth on his heels. you cut your way to his line of sight staring upward at him. he looked down at you, wondering what you were searching for.

you had considered not doing what you were about to do. you really did!

but your hand was already outstretched, the tips of your fingers grazing over the grown facial hair on his chin. he didn’t jolt from the action and merely stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide from the warmth of your touch.

“i like it,” you commented before taking your hand away, finding yourself into much deep trouble if max had seen the two of you.

“yeah?” lando asked, suddenly much closer to you.

“makes you look older and manly.” you rolled your eyes.

“what? i wasn’t manly before?”

your hand rolled over your mouth to withhold a laugh. “i’ve seen you weep at the sight of fish.”

lando’s face lit up and his tongue prodded the inside of his cheek. “doesn’t make me any less of a man.” he crossed his arms.

“really?”

“just enthusiastic. don’t see a problem with having a bit of character.” you didn’t argue with him further when you saw your brother and other group friends join one another in the living room. they made their way closer to the two of you.

you took a step back from lando. he couldn’t take his eyes off the action, his face falling instinctively. it’s nothing. his expressions mean nothing. they’re not for you.

“c’mon, i’m starvin’.” max called, slapping lando on the back. sure enough, you were walking out the door behind your brother, everyone trailing in an orderly manner.

you heard lando call your name from in front of max. you hummed in response. “you’ll ride with me, yeah?” you blushed. how could you not? max turned his head over his shoulder, his voice saying nothing, but his eyes telling all. he knows how you felt about lando when you were younger.

he knows, he knows, he knows. but surely, surely you’ve gotten over that little crush of yours. and lando, too, hadn’t harbored any feelings towards you either? surely, surely he couldn’t. you were his little sister. and max knew how lando treated girls as of late.

it left a sour taste in his mouth, but he said nothing when you nodded, brushing past him.

lando opened the door for you. his mclaren was a two seater, comfortable, and roared to life when lando turned over the engine. you couldn’t help but laugh feeling the seat vibrate beneath your thighs. it was a feeling of exhilaration that you hadn’t felt in a long time, but a feeling that came perpetually with lando’s presence. being with him made you feel alive, more alive than the years you’d walked this earth.

your excitement had done things to him as well. his eyes were glued to how you reacted, enthralled by your visceral enthusiasm to being in such a tangible sports car. your fingertips grazed across the leather interior of the door handle.

“gonna jump out on me?”

you shifted in the leather seat, crossing your legs over one another. there was a heat building inside of you, deep in your core.

“not if you don’t give me a reason to.”

he chuckled at that. “i’ll try.”

you smiled to yourself, looking down at your fiddling hands. lando stepped on the gas and pulled out of the villa’s extraneously long driveway, leading the pack of friends behind him.

“you look fit.” came his voice, nervous, beneath his breath. your eyes caught his side profile, all rough edges of it. “beautiful, but your brother’d have me by the balls if he heard me say that.”

your breaths were heavy in your chest. “then don’t let him.”

lando’s head whipped to meet your eyes, hand white-knuckling the steering wheel. you weren’t even sure what you were implying with your words, but he hoped that he wasn’t misinterpreting them. god forbid he didn’t understand. you didn’t brush him off like you did as a child, didn’t stumble away bashfully. now, in your grown state, you faced him head on. you challenged him, just as he suspected you would.

“between us, then?”

you nodded, tongue coming to wet your bottom lip. you made a motion of a lock and key against them, throwing the key out the window. he watched, but was drawn back to the road. that was one of the fastest car rides you’ve ever been in with that roaring engine, feeling like you had stepped into the biggest unknown of your very existence.

the restaurant that lando had made reservations for was absolutely beautiful. you couldn’t count the amount of times you’ve been awed by the sites you’ve seen, but you couldn’t help yourself. you were simply one of the luckiest girls with even richer friends.

lando opened the car door for you, sprinting to the other side. you found yourself laughing at the action, finding his urgency cute.

you stepped out of the car and you immediately found your brother, his stance idle before he marched over to you.

“he say anything to you?”

you flushed. between us, then?

“no. what would he say?”

max didn’t elaborate and simply settled for a huff from his nose. lando had been handing off his car to the valet man when he met up with the two of you. your other friends were in tow, eight of you in total, and made it inside the restaurant with ease.

you didn’t even think about what the seating arrangement would be. not until lando pulled out a chair for you, beside him, and you had no other choice but to settle in. not like you were complaining though.

but max was going to. you could see the look on his face when he sat opposite to you, flashing you a pair of warning eyes. but you didn’t know what warranted them– you didn’t even say anything to lando, more or less.

you furrowed your brows at him, feeling far too old for these insolent glances, and picked up the menu. lando sat next to you, mirroring your actions. you placed the napkin on your lap, a polite etiquette you’ve always precluded dinners with.

“ah– look,” you leaned into lando’s space, the heat from his body, the cologne from his shirt, sifting through your nose. it was tempting. “for you.”

your finger pointed to the blackened cod that they had on the menu. lando met you half way, looming over your shoulder at what you were pointing at. as soon as he read it, he scoffed. “fuck off.” you couldn’t help but giggle, attempting to stifle the sound the best you could.

“don’t do that,” lando’s voice came firm, but soft against your ears. he was talking just loud enough for the two of you to be able to hear. you glanced quickly at max, who was lost in conversation with his buddies.

“what?”

“hide your laugh.” you guessed you didn’t realize how often you muffled yourself. your hand lowered to your lap. “you used to do it when you were a teenager, too.” he pointed. you thought for a moment, realizing that he was right. “never understood why. especially since it’s so pretty.”

you froze, staring up at him with weary eyes. he looked confused at your expression. your hand came to slap his bicep. “stop it.” but you were teasing him. he saw right through your tone.

“don’t let him, ‘s what you said, right?”

you swallowed. nodded your head.

his mouth dipped to your ear. his breath hot, just like your cheeks. “he won’t hear a thing then, will he?” lando’s nose brushed against your scalp, and you thought for a moment, dreamed, that he would plant a kiss upon your head. but his lips simply hovered, breaths warming your strands of hair.

but you turned your head to meet his eyes, shaking his contact off. he noticed. tensed. “but he can see, you imbecile.”

that had lando laughing. your face broke with a smile, unable to resist his intoxicating gestures. he simply shrugged, letting you win this one, and his arm came to sling over the back of your chair. his fingertips grazed the strands of your dress, dipping down to your bare shoulders. your posture straightened against the chair, legs crossing over one another beneath the table. he watched you shift, his teeth catching his bottom lip to retain his smile.

the waiter came to take your orders. you ordered your preferred choice and drink, lando following suit. when the table received their drinks, you lifted your glasses for a collective ‘cheers’.

when the main course was finished, you were handed the dessert menus. short a couple, you had to share with the man next to you. you nudged lando’s shoulder with your own and like a dog to a whistle, he was over your shoulder once more, his stubble barely pinching your skin. the thought burst through your head: what would it feel like on your neck? on your thighs, your cunt? you blushed again for what felt like an infinitesimal number, but turned your attention back to the menu.

you pointed at the option that you thought was best. lando hummed, his eyes tracing over the features of your face. you glanced at him. “what?” you asked.

he simply huffed a short laugh and nodded his head at your choice.

it arrived sooner than later and the two of you split the sweet dessert. your brother was still lost in his own conversations, leaving you to your ministrations with lando. whatever they may be, you’d want them all.

when you had your fill and so did he, you couldn’t help but look at him. he turned, and you laughed quietly between the two of you. he raised a brow.

“you’ve got–” you pointed to his lip, but you figured your words were fruitless. you licked at your thumb and raised it to his mouth, cleaning him. his eyes darkened, becoming hooded with the shadows of lust. you even dared to bring your thumb back to your mouth, popping the remnants across your lips with a ‘pop’. lando never thought his dick could be so hard.

“there,” you breathed. “all clean.”

there was a brief silence. one second. two. “you’ve always been trouble, haven’t you?”

your own eyes were hooded. “maybe.” you teased, cleaning your fingers with the napkin. “guess you have to find out?”

lando’s hand gripped tighter on the back of your chair.

“guess so.”

the drive back was tense. tense with your excitement. on the way out, lando and you lingered at the back of the pack. his hand was on your lower back, warm and electric, reminding you that you had stepped into the deep end with him.

you still couldn’t believe what had happened.

lando was speeding down the freeway, weaving his way in and out of cars, a dangerous task that you only felt comfortable with him performing. you’d lose your mind if anyone else was the driver, but he was the professional here, wasn’t he?

you were even so bold to roll the window down and stick your hand out, feeling the harsh slipstreams beneath your nailbeds. you relaxed in the seat, head lolling against the cushion, hair flying into the wind. lando turned his head to look at you, his elbow leaning on the interior beneath the windowsill, and almost swerved into oncoming traffic. you were a picturesque beauty, lounging freely in his passenger seat, legs crossed, free.

you were at peace for the time being, and it was the only way he’d wish to see you. but he could think of other things.

he pulled into the house with ease. it was well lit amongst the long, windy driveway, and he made sure to let you out first. you two were the last to arrive at the house this time, taking your sweet time. you were in no rush to race back to your room, and neither was he.

it was well past 10pm. when you reached the foyer, max was waiting for you.

“bright and early tomorrow?” he asked.

“bright and early.” you confirmed. he pulled you in for a swift hug, rustling the top of your head with that familial brother love that you adored him for.

he patted lando on the back briefly, before narrowing his eyes at him. you didn’t understand what was happening between the two of them, bro code, but lando seemed to understand well enough. max and his buddies traipsed up the steps, and you felt at ease when you heard their doors shut.

it was just you and lando, now, idling in the foyer.

you said nothing but began to walk, trailing forward through the grandeur villa. you were ample with your pace and heard him moving behind you. with a push of your hand, you opened the door to the grand balcony, leaving it ajar for lando to sneak out from.

he did.

there was a patio set there, waiting, and you let your handbag drop onto the coffee table. you sauntered over to the cobblestone walls, the balustrade meeting post to post for about thirty feet. you leaned against the stone. it was cold against your bare back.

lando seated himself in one of the chairs, his legs spreading wide. he watched you lean forward, then spin to face him. your back was illuminated by the halo of the moonlight, drenching you in a pale visage of beauty.

“you wanna know something?” you asked. lando perked up, humming with curiosity. he was too busy admiring your figure, having to pull himself back from such tumultuous thoughts. “i had a crush on you when i was a kid.”

that stifled a laugh from the british driver. “you did not.”

you shook your head. “sure did.” you didn’t know why you were telling him this all of a sudden, but it was weighing heavy on your mind. “max was pissed. knew i only came around when he told me you’d be there.”

the pieces began melding together in lando’s mind. he had been such an idiot boy that he couldn’t see what a prized beauty you were. there was a trace of second hand guilt. a pattern of ‘what-ifs’ trifling through his mind.

“‘was just a stupid girl. tried so hard for you to notice me.” your hands covered your face for a brief moment.

“you always wore skirts,” he recalled, looking at his hands in his lap. he looked up at you, smirk building. “that why?”

you were shameless when you nodded your head.

“so embarrassing, i know–”

“what about now?” he cut you off, clearly wanting to ask this question the moment it left your lips.

“what do you mean?” your mouth went dry, your hands clasping at the balustrade as if you were going to faint. your heart pounded in your chest.

“what do you feel for me now?”

you couldn’t meet his eye. you looked anywhere else but him, in fact, and opted to over your shoulder to admire the view of the ocean beneath the starlight. the ocean wouldn’t judge you. it would wash away your problems, in fact, and not stare you down.

there was a deep intake of breath that had your head settling from its dizzy state. you looked back to lando and he sat there, cocky, upright. but there was a genteel nature about him that didn’t have you as afraid as you thought you’d be.

he raised his arm, outstretching his hand for you.

you swallowed, pushing yourself off from the balustrade. you sauntered towards him, earnest in your steps, before letting your palm rest on his.

he pulled you close, fingers wrapping against your wrist. he was warm to the touch and he could feel your erratic heartbeat in your veins.

lando’s legs spread for you to settle between. you stood above him, looking down at his brunette curls, his stubble, his cheekbones. his own hands were experimental against the planes of your body, touching sweetly against your hips.

“you didn’t answer me.” he repeated.

you crossed your arms over your chest.

“some dreams just remain dreams.”

he waited a beat. you felt his chest rise and fall.

“do you want to dream forever?”

no. no. you didn’t. you wanted your fantasies to become reality. being with him. being loved by him has always been what you wanted.

you lowered yourself on his lap, straddling his waist. you felt his cock thrum beneath the guard of his pants. did he want you the same?

his forehead collided with yours. his nose brushing against your bridge. you shook your head, closing your eyes.

“wake me up,” you mewled quietly, voice deep within your throat. it was a desperate plea, one that you thought he may not understand until he caught the glint in your eye. the wanting. the years of pining from a distance. how he was so wrapped up in his boyhood that he couldn’t appreciate a woman at his side. “please.”

he didn’t wait any longer to meet your lips with his own.

you were cautious with your touches. your hands were on his chest, gripping at the fabric of his shirt. but your kiss was deep by his own volition, gripping your chin with his forefinger and thumb, earning a groveling sound in your throat.

his other hand was stroking your back, pushing you against him until your breasts were firmly against his chest. you gasped at the firm contact, him using it as an excuse to slip his tongue into your mouth. he explored every corner with an expertise you didn’t know was possible. no place went untouched by his saliva, marking a cavern of his own, and perhaps awakening a fantasy that had been dormant for years.

he lied when he said he didn’t notice you.

he lied.

lando would always await your appearance when he went over to max’s house. he’d hear you skip down the steps in whatever mary-jane heel you wore for that day. max would groan when your head popped through the archway, waving at his friends, but your lashes fluttered when you settled on lando.

‘course he fucking noticed.

he thought of you a sweet girl, caring for her brother, with an exquisite taste in fashion. he’d remember the skirts you wore– black ones, pleated ones, plaid ones– they were all committed to the vaults of his memory. he thought you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

and he still did. while you were perched atop of his lap, huffing in nervous breaths, your hands anxiously skirting across the plane of his dress shirt. you shook atop of him as your lips moved coincided with one another. two bodies, melding together beneath the moonlight.

your tongue swirled against his own, hips bucking against the bulge in his pants. your cunt tightened aimlessly, drenching his pants below. he could feel the patten of fabric become lathered in your slick, and it brought him back to earth.

“we can’t.” he breathed against your lips. his chest was beating up and down, unable to calm himself. though he attempted rejecting you, his hand tightened around the fabric of your dress.

your nose brushed against his as you chuckled. “a bit late, isn’t it?” your teeth bit at your swollen, bottom lip. you could see his eyes flash downward at your action, his own tongue wetting his own.

“your brother,” he began to shake his head, still clutching around the fabric of your dress.

“he doesn’t…” you began to say, kissing the sides of his stubble. you were even so bold to take his free hand, guide it to your inner thighs, and let his fingertips caress the wet fabric covering your cunt. it was swollen, desperate for his touch. you’d been desperate for his touch. desperate for as long as you could remember. “have to know.”

lando’s fingers curled upward to apply pressure right on your clit. he didn’t even have to search for it, and you shifted your hips, bucking them across his palm. “fuck, baby…” he groaned into your cheek, followed by a crass chuckle. “you always get this wet?”

your head buried itself into the junction between his neck and shoulder, whining with embarrassment. “jus’ for you…” the words came quietly, but they rang loud in lando’s ears. he could feel the vibrations from your throat, your aching cunt. you were laid atop of him, dripping down your thighs.

“yeah?” he breathed, finding his heart beating rapidly beneath the weight of your body. his fingers began a pattern of motions across your clothed clit—back and forth— and you mewled into his shirt. there was a patch of drool beneath your lips. “look at you, then, made a mess all over me…”

your lips sucked on the skin of his neck, biting at his chest. attempting to shift closer to him, if it was possible, had your cunt aligned over his clothed cock.

“‘n i’ve barely touched you.”

lando wasn’t even sure he could bring himself to. this was his best friend’s little sister. the amount of lines he’s crossed. the friendship he’s had for years suddenly feeling vulnerable, out the door. but he can’t say he hasn’t thought about a moment like this. fantasized about it once or twice.

“touch me,” you pleaded, tilting your head to look at him. your eyes were wide, glossy with your pleasure, whilst his darkened at your contact. “more, i need…” your hips grinded against his palm. “more.”

“fuck,” he cursed beneath his breath. fuck his self control. fuck whatever this was going to do to his friendship. you are real, pining for him in his lap, begging you for his touch. anything from him, really, you would take. this moment felt like it was going to flutter away any moment, and you’d be waking up from a sick, yearning dream.

the hand upon your back steadied you against his body, whilst the fingers of his other moved the fabric of your panties aside. here, with his sensitive fingers, he could feel the heat from your cunt. it washed over him like a wave, retracting, tightening when he flexed his middle finger. you were utterly drenched for him, the cool breeze of the night raising goosebumps along your skin.

you shivered above him, watching how his hand worked beneath your dress. his hand against your back curled around the base of your neck, angling your eyes back up to his own. “eyes on me.” you listened, melted at his soft, demanding tone, and nodded your head. you shimmied frantically across the plane of his hand, but he tsked. “be patient.”

you seemed to understand well enough. he would give you what you wanted, in time. you would be patient, holding back the whimpers deep within your throat. you were just about to implode on yourself when he finally inserted his middle finger into your folds, taunting you dangerously. you gasped, unable to keep yourself still as your back arched. your head fell back into his hand, lando’s thumb swirling around your bare neck.

the straps from your dress fell loose with the motion and you could feel the breeze harden your already taut nipples. his eyes clinged downward at the sight before him, head bending forward to kiss your exposed chest. one of your hands came to clench around his wrist, the other to his neck, holding him fiercely to your body.

your fingers were thrusted deep into the base of his neck, the fade of his hair. you tugged when his finger curled deliciously inside of you, his thumb– acting so expertly– applied gentile pressure to your clit, toiling with your impetuous lust. you felt exposed to him, putty in his hands, weightless against his body.

the british driver’s lips were relentless on your skin. your chest was claimed by his tongue, swirling around the top of your breasts, edging you further to a spectacular orgasm. he sucked tight against your skin, but your head raised to meet your lips to his ears.

“no marks,” you requested, but you heard him growl against your chest. his hands flexed– his wrist clutched with your palm, his hand on the back of your neck– the contact with your neck had you breathless, clenching around his singular finger, and he took blatant notice.

“a secret, yeah?” he confirmed, holding back his groveling tone. the words were bitter when they hit your ears. there was a layered amount of surplus emotions that guarded his heart, held him at arm's length, and he knew it would tear him apart. but now, he focused on you atop of him, and getting you to come.

“mhmm…” you had to clamp your mouth shut from bursting with a wanton moan. it was too much– the way that he swirled his thumb, how his finger was just the perfect length to bottom out inside of you. your hips moved relentlessly, despite his grip around your neck, and you pushed down on his wrist when it started to become too much for you.

but lando had other plans. he shook his head, let out a tsk between his lips, and let his ring finger slip into you with ease. you let out another moan, deeper than the rest, but he responded with a tug on your hair.

with his lips still against your breasts, his motions froze. “quiet.” you hummed a disapproving sound. “want me to stop?”

you shook your head. “no– no!”

you could feel his teeth against your breasts, a cocky smile no doubt with how flustered you became at the thought of him stopping.

“gotta be quiet, love–” and then his lips were back on you, sucking amply at your skin. his head lowered until he captured a nipple between his teeth, letting the ridges toy with your sensitive buds. your head lowered to the top of his as you breathed him in– his shampoo, his cologne– and it didn’t help with containing yourself.

his pace against your cunt quickened. dual fingers sliding in and out of you with ease, thumb riding aggressively on your clit. you could feel the coil inside of you wringing with heat.

lando’s lips found your other nipple, treating it with the same voraciousness that the other received. it was beginning to become too much for you. no man had ever had you this way– putty, liquid, melting– beneath his touch. you feared that you’d never be able to have an orgasm again.

you became antsy in his hands. your grip on his wrist was shaking, your thighs desperately clenching around his waist. he took it as a sign that you were close, and the words fell easily from his lips.

“gonna cum for me?” his chin rested on your chest, angling to look up at your sweating, flushed expression. your eyes fluttered shut as you nodded. his grip around your throat tightened against the columns. you’d never trusted a man so much to not hurt you.

“come on, sweet girl, ‘ve got you.” he promised to you, “bet you’re so pretty when you cum.”

you felt the skin of your lip break into a light gash beneath the weight of your teeth. you’d been so focused on keeping quiet, that you went ahead at your own expense. lando saw the way your eyes opened, and lurched to meet your lips with his own.

the iron upon his tongue didn’t frighten him. perhaps it turned him on in some manner. the lengths that you were willing to go to keep your sweet lips tightened. but as his own tongue swirled around the stinging cut of your lip, you moaned into him. he absorbed the sound, locking it into the expanse of his memories. you had such a sweet voice. he’d never hear something like it again.

“come on, baby,” he urged you once more, speaking into your mouth. his breath was hot, spinning a knot of thread with your own. you felt him laugh at your oncoming orgasm, taking joy from eliciting such pleasure from you. “let me see how pretty you are.”

it didn’t take much longer for your orgasm to reach you. you went taut, shaking in his hands, eyes rolling into your head. you swore you saw stars, and that was just from his fingers alone. it had you wondering what his cock felt like.

your head fell limp against his shoulder, breathing heavily, clutching the fabric of his shirt. you didn’t want to let him go. his fingers laid idle inside of your tightened walls, not wanting to release the feeling either. not with his hand drenched, his pants soaked, and his forehead dripping with his own sweat. his cock had been painfully hard, a pool of his precum seeping through his pants, combining with your own. it was a beautiful, disastrous mess that he’d initiated between you two, but he felt no regret.

you sniffled against his shoulder, breezing with the cold air, and let your arms wrap around his neck. you hid your face against his body, attempting to bury your embarrassment within him. you had just come on the balcony atop lando’s lap. what fucking world were you living in? you’ve had feelings for him for what felt like a century, and now a dream that you didn’t even know was possible of coming true, came at the palm of his hand.

lando couldn’t believe it either. you were tucked against his body like a hand to a glove, a perfect fit, breathing heavily, shaking, against his palms. your cunt roared with a beating heat, swimming with the orgasm he had given you. proud wasn’t a word that could surmount to this feeling.

and he said nothing when he fixed the straps of your dress, gauging a more presentable you. he tucked your hair behind your ears, fingertips loitering on the expanse of your cheek. you smiled into him, coming to raise your head to meet his eyes.

his eyes fell to your blistering lip. the swollen buds that he sucked the blood out of. his forehead met yours, and neither of you said anything; just a soft breath and heartbeat between the two of you.

within seconds he took his hand from your cunt, washed his fingers against his tongue, and let it fall to your bare back. you were stunned at the motion, but drool pooled in your mouth. you gawked, openly, just how hot the action was alone.

lando stood with you in his arms. one hand on the back of your neck, the other cupping your thigh. your legs, whilst trembling, tightened around his waist for support as he took you through the quiet villa. the only lights were the candles that were still burning, but you didn’t see them, your head hiding in the crevice of his neck. he hummed quietly, a rhythm that had your eyes beginning to lull with sleep.

you heard him open a door quietly and shuffle around the mess on the floor. your room, no doubt. you’d left a pile of clothes as a welcome for yourself when you were picking out your attire for the evening. it didn’t help him, either, by being surrounded by your scent. your perfume, you, it swirled around him, taunting him. dared him to fuck his best friend’s little sister.

lando bent down to lay you into your bed. you fell against your will, hands still upright for him to fall in. but he just couldn’t let himself.

he did, however, let his fingers trail across your bare thighs, your knees, your calves, ankles, until he was met with your heels. his hand lingered on the back of your ankle, angling one of your feet upright to slip a shoe off. his fingers moved to the other, placing the expensive pair on the ground. you stretched your hands above your head, falling deep within the pillowy, feathery embrace.

you stared up at him. your hair messy, dress disheveled, eyes heavy with exhaustion. and he looked down at you, moving forward to let his fingers trail up your sternum, the perks of your breasts. the moment was so quiet. only your breaths and his own could be heard– and maybe the pounding of your heart.

he looked beautiful looming above you, hovering with a protective, apologetic look. apologetic? what did he have to apologize for? except for a mind-blowing orgasm, that is.

his hand froze against the place of your heart. palm flattening, he could feel just how fast your heart was racing. you grabbed his wrist, thumb sliding up and down against his veins. he swallowed.

“don’t know if we should do this again.” he spoke quietly.

your heart broke. you sat up straight in your bed, confusion written all across your features. you thought that this was something between the two of you. that he wanted you. and now what was happening? did you do something wrong?

“why?” you asked, feeling tears well in your eyes. you couldn’t help it. the girl inside of you had come to the forefront, her dreams of being with lando being squashed beneath the weight of his words.

he sighed deep, unable to meet your eyes. he was about to say something before you interrupted him.

“you don’t want me?”

his head snapped in your direction, almost breaking clean off his spine with just how fast he went. he shook his head, hand coming to cup your cheek, but you shook his affections away. your hand dropped from his wrist, wanting to feel nothing of his heart.

he spoke your name. twice. three times. you looked back toward him, tears hot in your eyes. “hey.” you focused on his voice. “you know that’s not true.”

your brows furrowed. “do i?”

his expression dropped.

he fell to his knees before the side of the bed. an action no man has ever done for you. you gaped visibly, watching as both his hands came to rest upon your knees. he leaned into you. stubble tickling your thighs.

your name was sweet on his tongue.

“what would your brother say–?”

“fuck what he thinks.” you leaned down.

lando’s head dropped between your thighs, taking a deep inhale of your skin. you shivered, letting your hand rest on the back of his neck.

“we need t’give it time.” he said upon raising his head. he looked at you with a glimmer in his eyes. the moonlight shimmered through your windows, casting a vague gracefulness of illumination across his tanned skin.

“how much?”

lando wasn’t sure. his silence was an answer enough. you sighed, letting your body fall against the bed once more. he lifted himself to sit beside you, placing both hands at your hips to cage you in.

“hey,” he said to gauge your attention back to him. “we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you wanted to believe him. but you weren’t sure that you could. lando leaned down to kiss your sternum against the fabric of your dress.

“you still want me?” you asked, voice cracking with your emotions.

“i’ve wanted you,” he said against your stomach, “since the day you came down in that white skirt.”

you gasped, head tilting to look at him. that was one of the first times you met him– third, maybe– you remembered which one he was talking about. it was a skirt with little white bows, embellished with threads of ribbon and lace.

“the one with the bows?”

“that fuckin’ skirt…” he scoffed with a laugh. you were still floored, but managed to smile. you couldn’t believe his confession, finding it unbelievable. unbelievable that maybe, maybe you had a chance with him. the girl inside of you was squealing, but the woman didn’t quiver beneath him.

there was a momentary silence between the two of you. but you shifted, moving to stand. lando watched you from his perch on your bed, hair ruffled and eyes red from his own wrought of emotions. you didn’t expect this from him. this sensibility.

you began to strip with your back turned to him. he watched. silently.

you stripped of your panties and threw them over your shoulder. lando caught them, still gawking at you. “keep them.” you spoke. “you ruined them.”

that had him laughing. but he kept them, staring down at the lace material. you threw on a large shirt from your suitcase that reached your mid thigh. you finally spun around to meet his eye, but he didn’t dare move.

“what?” you asked, his staring becoming more intense.

he swallowed. shook his head.

“you better go.” you spoke for him as you approached your bed, narrowly dodging him when you threw yourself down. his eyes raked over you, speechless. “lando.” you reaffirmed, bringing him out of his haze. he let out a sigh and stood, hand coming to brace the back of his neck.

he lingered before opening your door, glancing at the dress on the ground. and then he was gone, shutting your door behind him, before falling to his own bed. you were lucky to find sleep that night, and it came easy with your exhaustion. but anxiety thrummed through your mind, bustling with a pint of rejection. it was so sweet from his tongue, but it hurt all the same.

lando laid in his bed before he showered. changed. laid in his bed with the thought of you. how did this happen? how could he forfeit a lifelong friendship? it was simple, really. you were the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, and he couldn’t ever let you go. he’s always watched you from a distance. liking your posts, viewing your instagram stories. he was obsessed with you in more ways than one, but that was a secret for him and him alone.

yet, he couldn’t get max out of his mind. how he would react to him? to you? fuck, the thoughts were brewing a storm inside of his head. the damage had already been done, his heart already thrumming with the essence of you in its wake. you spread through the blood in his veins, latching onto his vitality like a parasite. though he welcomed the thought, the wonder of you overtaking his life.

that was a thought that he could fall asleep to. and he did, snoring with a good guzzle that had you tossing and turning.

the morning came and went. you were up early, as you promised max, but took time planning your wardrobe. you wore a bathing suit beneath your choice of clothing, but what was essential was the short, white, skirt that rode mid-rise on your waist.

the shirt you wore was thin, sheer, a light beige. it had straps that came down to tie a bow between your breasts, and cropped enough to leave heaven to the imagination. for one man in particular, that was your goal.

‘i don’t know if we should do this again.’

fuck that.

you skipped down the steps and were met with max awake bright and early. he had been cooking breakfast, a favorite of yours, and was just about finishing up before he glanced towards you.

“morning!” came his preppy voice. he was wearing a thin white shirt and swim trunks, ready to take on the day to swim.

“good morning.” you sat down at the lush kitchen island, max sliding a plate of food in front of you. you dug in immediately.

“woah,” max commented, sitting down beside you with a cup of tea. “relax. thought we were going swimming?”

you coughed. “we are.” you continued to finish your food with haste. “just hungry.”

you heard more steps come down the stairs. but you didn’t turn your head until max did, his eyes brightening as his close friend was approaching.

“mate,” max said, eyeing up lando. “you look like shit. did ‘ya sleep last night?”

lando hummed with his tired voice, already prepared to go swimming as well. he wore a black shirt with papaya swim trunks. you ogled at him before he looked at you, turning away quickly once he skirted his eyes towards your direction.

“slept great.”

you scoffed.

max and lando turned towards you. the fork in your hands dropped and your eyes widened. a blush creeped onto your cheeks.

“you snore,” you commented, still refusing to look at him. “you know that?”

max turned towards lando. “your rooms are next to each other?” the words were poignant, aimed as a remark to the british driver. he simply shrugged his shoulders in response, not finding any reason to engage.

you stood with your plate in hand, making headway for the sink. from behind, you could feel a pair of eyes heating the plane of your back. you weren’t stupid. and neither was he, knowing exactly what you had done this morning.

the skirt you wore was a reminiscence of his confession the previous night. it brought back the childlike memories of grade school. a time when life was simpler, and you were just a girl, and he was just a boy. but he knew you weren’t that girl anymore. a woman grown, you were elegant. he didn’t understand how you were related to max, a scruffy rascal, but he was happier for that.

when you turned on the water for the sink, lando approached you. max had been tending to his phone, scrolling through social media, so he hadn’t been paying attention. lando’s shoulder brushed against your own when you were scrubbing, desperate to say something.

“you–”

“max,” you interrupted lando, turning off the water and turning towards your brother. lando took a side step away from you, giving you space when max looked up from his phone. you received a side eye from the british driver, his lip curling with pettiness. he saw what you were doing now. was this your form of punishment?

max responded with a ‘hm?’ “you want me to cook tonight?” you offered, and max glanced at lando, who never stopped looking at you. you saw max’s expression tense.

“why not. could save us some money, won’t it?” he said, waiting for lando to add on. “right, lando?”

lando spun around, releasing his tight grip on the counter. he took a sharp breath in, nodding his head in agreement. you watched as a blush creeped onto his face. you bit on the inside of your cheek, but weren’t expecting lando to retaliate.

he spoke your name, which had your head lifting. “what happened to your lip?”

you froze. eyes widening. your own lip twitched with a remedy of a snarl, and he bit back, his nose curling with distaste.

max approached you two, observing your scabbed lip from the night before. “shit. he’s right. what happened?”

you reached back to clench the marble counter beneath your fingers. “uh–” lando held back his devious smile. “bit it in my sleep, ‘spose.”

max simply shrugged his shoulders, and headed for the backyard where the pool was. when the door shut, you let out a sigh. lando stepped in front of you, caging you in with his arms. his head dipped to your shoulder, his curls brushing against your cheek.

“get off me,” you commented with grit, biting your words. lando shook his head, not moving.

“don’t play this with me,” he said, lifting his head with a deep inhale. you raised a brow at him, having absolutely no idea what he meant.

“said we weren’t going to do this again, didn’t you?” you made him sit with his words. make him roll in the fucking mud. “we’re not. and if we were–” you shoved his chest with both your hands, which had him lurching backward. he didn’t go far. “i’d fucking win.”

he invaded your space again, leaning his lips towards yours. you felt his breath again, his scent creeping into your nose. it was like he never left.

“y’sure ‘bout that?” he said with a light tone, teasing you with the vibrato of his words. you swallowed a lump in your throat.

but you stood your ground. “positive.”

lando lingered for a second longer, leaning closer to your lips, and you thought he was going to kiss you out in the open kitchen. “whatever you say.” were the only words he said before he leapt away from you suddenly, leaving your exposed body cold.

he followed you out to the pool, never leaving enough space between you two. but you had other plans–sticking by max’s side would surely drive him insane.

so you sat beside your brother all day. in the pool chair next to him. tanning, reading a book, scrolling on your phone– it didn’t matter. it wasn’t long before the rest of your brother’s friends joined everyone by the pool.

most of them were in the pool by the afternoon. you had made your way to the kitchen, shedding of your skirt and top. left in your swimwear, you wanted a snack.

in the bowls of fruit you found, you pulled some mango, strawberries, and bananas. you cut them with a knife from the drawer, and put them in a bowl. there was more than enough fruit for everyone, but you took some of your favorites in the meantime.

the sun was hot that day, and you had forgotten your sunglasses. sunscreen on your head would cause greasy hair, and you didn’t want that. so you searched briefly in the kitchen for any sort of hat that someone left, and you found one.

it was a papaya hat. with mclaren’s logo, and a number 4 on it. you smirked, bringing the hat atop your head.

it fit nicely and you grabbed the bowl of fruit. you made your way back outside to the patio and your brother noticed you immediately. he called your name, and you sauntered over.

lando and his mates had been in the pool playing with a frisbee, but as soon as max had said your name, he was looking over his shoulder. he went speechless.

with his hat atop your head and your exposed body, he could help but drool at the sight of you. a droplet trailed down his chin, but he dunked the lower half of his mouth into the pool before anyone saw.

“for us?” max asked towards the bowl of fruit. you popped a slice of mango into your mouth, biting tenderly into the piece before nodding your head. lando swallowed tightly, practically shaking beneath the surface of the water.

you placed the bowl on the wooden table and stood back as you were met with the onslaught of a crowd of wet dudes. you backed up towards the stairs of the pool, ready to hop in yourself. you thought yourself a genius– having the entire pool to yourself while they ate. but before you stepped in, your elbow was caught in a warm palm.

lando faced you with his bare chest dripping with chlorine, hair ruffled and damp. droplets of water slithered down his cheeks, which you felt tempted to rub away with your thumb, but you retained from stretching out your hands.

he simply stared at you. and you stared at him.

then he flicked the end of the cap with his pointer finger and smirked, raising his brows with a teasing fashion. he had the nerve to glance at your chin, narrowing his eyes. you didn’t have time to react before his own thumb came to wipe away a droplet of mango juice from your chin.

the action was fast, unnoticed by anyone around you. you blushed instantly, freezing in place. lando popped his thumb into his mouth, tongue visibly swirling around the fingertip. he made a humming sound, approving of the taste.

“tastes sweet.” he muttered to you. he raised his eyes, hooded beneath the glare of the sunlight. “not my favorite, though.”

holy shit

you thought you were going to pass out.

with your eyes flared wide, you spun away from him, throwing the hat to the side, and dove straight into the pool.

you needed to cool off. desperately. and your time in the pool did. when you finally climbed out, max was lounging in the pool chair beneath an umbrella. you joined him in your seat, drying yourself off with your towel. lando was watching the entire time, sitting opposite to max.

when you finally laid down with the towel of your bare legs, max scoffed at his phone. clearly, he was trying to get your attention.

“what?” you said, the hat you had thrown off was now back in your lap.

“look,” max handed you his phone, and you immediately rolled your eyes. it was a picture on instagram of your ex-boyfriend and his new girlfriend. his new girlfriend that he cheated on you with. he was a fucking asshole, and max knew that from the very beginning.

“ugh,” you groaned, handing his phone back to him. max took it and was about to keep scrolling.

“what?” lando asked, curious now to see what the two of you were grumbling about. max handed him his phone, but he was still confused who he was looking at.

“her ex,” max commented with a rumble. lando’s eyes shot up at you, watching your expression shift. lando was now investigating thoroughly, scrolling through this guys posts. he still had some of you up, and it only angered him. it angered him to an unfair degree, feeling the pinnacle of jealousy, although entirely unwarranted.

“i brought him to a race once,” you pointed out, unable to look at either of them. instead, you settled on the water in the pool. “barcelona, last year.” your arms crossed over your chest.

lando raised a brow. “he was that leach for leclerc, wasn’t he?” you were surprised that he remembered, but nodded your head. it wasn’t a good memory. he had abandoned you the minute you arrived at the race in search of the ferrari driver, and had to manage yourself alone in the crowds. it was miserable, but at least you got to see a good show.

“yeah,” you commented with a huff. “fucking asshole.”

“asshole.” max mirrored you.

“why did it end, then?” lando was pushing the boundaries, but max didn’t seem to notice or mind.

though you did.

you didn’t want to relive the thought. the embarrassment. the entire fucking heartbreak that you pathetically went through.

“because i was stupid.” is all you said before you stood with your towel, making your way inside without another word.

max turned to face lando and smacked him on the shoulder. “the fuck did you ask for?” came his harsh words. lando was stunned, not intending to chase you away.

“shit, sorry i–” lando was quick to rise to his feet, though, not even glancing back at max before he chased after you. “i’ll fix it,” he promised before disappearing inside, and max simply shrugged, wondering just how lando could work his wonders. though he doubted he truly could.

lando called your name from deep inside the villa but you were already half way up the steps. you froze when you heard his voice, stifling back any sounds from your chest. he caught up to you, standing a step beneath you.

“i’m sorry–” he said, “i was just—”

“just what, lando?” you grumbled, truly not wanting to hear his words. “you wanna know just how embarrassed i was? huh? when i found he was fucking one of my best friends?”

lando stood there, shocked, coming to hold out his arms for you to fall into. but you didn’t. “i was such a fucking idiot. it was right in front of me but i didn’t believe it. how smart of me, right?!” your voice raised when lando cornered you at the top of the stairs, your back against the wall.

you couldn’t help but spew emotional nonsense. “oh woe is me, truly, you’d probably end up doing the same–”

lando caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, his other hand leaning against the wall. “what did you say?”

you gulped, not meaning for the words to slip off your tongue. shit. he looked pissed. pissed that you would think so lowly of him.

“i–” you gulped. “i didn’t mean–”

his hand tightened around your chin. “really? that what you think of me?” no, no, no! you didn’t. you didn’t. you shook your head in his hold, your eyes largening with your emotions.

“if you were my girl,” lando whispered to you, not breaking eye contact with you once. “you’d know it.”

but you dared to disagree.

“what am i then?” you challenged, your voice raising in the echoing halls. “what was i yesterday, a whore?”

he bared his teeth at you, displeased with what you called yourself. his hand from your chin latched onto the side columns of your throat and your mouth parted with a delectable pleasure.

“you needed me, yeah?” he was sure to comment. but you didn’t budge.

“get your hands off me.” you bit out.

“you didn’t seem to mind yesterday.”

“clearly you didn’t do a good job for a second run,” the words pinched his ego, though the hand against the wall came to slide around your waist.

“weren’t you begging for me? or did i make that up?” you seethed at his cocky tone.

“think you had too much to drink. i’d never beg.” it was a straight lie that came from your lips. he knew it. you knew it. but you pretended to keep your strength.

“‘touch me, please,’” he mocked in your tone.

“must’ve dreamed it. thinking ‘bout me, lan?” the nickname was new for him on your tongue and he bristled, along with the blood soaring to his cock.

“‘more, need–” you slapped your hand over his mouth.

“fuck you.” you hissed. his mouth curved to a smile before he let his grip on you go.

“we’ll see if you’re lucky tonight.”

you brushed past him with a scoff and he stood there idly, watching your hips sway side to side. he chuckled at your retreat and you flipped him off before entering your room and slamming the door. you were done with these fucking games, his toying words. he had no right to approach you after finding out about your ex.

you immediately turned on the shower in your room and stripped of your bathing attire. it was when you were searching aimlessly through your drawer of panties, you remembered that you were missing a pair.

a smirk grew on your face, and you couldn’t help but feel that you held the power.

a few hours had passed after your interaction with lando, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. you were missing from the entirety of the activities around the pool, and he even dared knock on your door, but he resisted. though it tore him apart, thinking about your writhing anger.

but you, you had other plans. you’d showered off from the pool, taken care of your skin, and taken a nap before you were to get up and make dinner.

you had come up with the idea for dinner.

fish. as everyone enjoyed.

you smirked to yourself as you made your way down the steps. it was quiet, and you heard no churning of others about the halls. it was nice to revere yourself in the solitude of the late afternoon, hoping that you would have the entirety of the downstairs floor yourself.

you got to work with your scheme and pulled out the fish from the fridge. whatever you were making, you were sure it would be delicious.

and when the meal was just about done, you heard a strangulated sound of ample footsteps down the staircase. you were just about done setting the dinner table when max soared through the kitchen, aiming right for the pans and pots of ingredients you sniffed.

“woo!” he cheered, clearly delighted with your cooking. the other boys at his side were quick to mimic him, agreeing with his statement. your hands clamped over your heart, showing how happy you were that they were thrilled.

“well,” you urged. “go sit! i’ll bring it over.”

they didn’t hesitate. beginning to take spoonfuls of rice, vegetables, and the fried fish you whipped up, they were eager to get a headstart. your thoughts wondered where the british driver was, but your thoughts were answered when you heard the last pair of footsteps through the grand foyer.

you just finished placing the bowls of food in front of the eager boys. they weren’t polite in waiting for everyone to sit down, but you didn’t mind.

it was an afterthought for what his meal would be. of course you knew he despised fish. you listened to everything he said when you were younger, years ago, and never forgot.

you leaned against the kitchen aisle, facing him, and he immediately recoiled at the smell. his nose turned upright, curling upward with his lip, and you saw the sparkle of his canines.

lando approached you, the stove, and took a glance at what the helpings were. he turned his head over his shoulder, giving you a knowing look, which you returned with a small shrug and a smirk.

“witch.” he uttered, hands clamping around the edges of the countertops, unsure what he was going to fish through the cabinets for.

“don’t worry.” you said, lando turning to raise his brows. you slid him a bowl filled with greens, vegetables, and a little bit of rice. “plenty for you, don’t you think?”

you cocked your head toward the empty seat, but he instead took the one right next to you. the bowl in your hands was pungent with sprouts, and even you recoiled. you placed it down in front of him, letting your hand linger on his back. “i’m no dietician,” you said quietly. “but i tried to substitute as much as i could.”

“thank you,” he said through clenched teeth, fucker.

you were quaint with your serving, taking enough for your fill, and sat down swiftly. conversation grew between all of the men, your brother included, and you ate in silence. you had done more thinking about your situation with your ex, and recoiled with a sickening feeling in your stomach. lando watched from the corner of his eye, noticing how little you touched your fork with your lips and spun your spoon amongst the rice.

he knew he said tribulating words. taunted you. teased you. but he did not mean for it to stretch as far as it had. you were twiddling with the accessories on your wrists, barely saying a word the entire meal, and he felt that it was his fault. you’d only gone as far enough to tease him with a full fish basking over an open flame on the stove.

it wasn’t shameful when he was devouring the meal you had cooked. despite the repugnant smell of fish lingering in the air, your food was…divine. he wasn’t all that surprised, but it was a nice treat to end one of the first full days.

but the most courageous ideas filled his head. he kept looking at you, staring, out of the corner of his eye. you were entirely blue with your melancholy, and he resented the soured expression upon your beautiful face. he took it as his own responsibility to relieve you of your worries. your anxieties. insecurities. as it was his fault that they emerged.

it didn’t take long before beneath the table, lando’s hand wandered. he began with a soft graze of your knee which had you sitting up straight, white skirt you dressed in before remaking its appearance around your hips.

you turned your head to face him, eyes flaring with wonder of just what the fuck he was doing. but his expression stayed nonchalant, undeterred from his conversation with your brother. you decided that you should play the same game, sliding into the roll of uncaring of his soft touches.

though it was much easier said than done.

his fingers were daunting. restless. he took a break to sip his water with his opposite hand, divulging into deeper conversation as his hand trailed higher. it was then that he spread his palm wide over the span of your thigh, bare, pinching at the skin. you leaned over the table, leaning your head into your palms that were supported by your elbows upon the table.

you sighed, your other leg jumping up and down. you attempted to listen to whatever they were talking about– football, instagram, the races– but you couldn’t tune in for long. not when he tugged the fabric of your skirt to the side, and let his pinky dance across your folds. fuck.

attempting to muffle your struggle, you brought your glass to your lips, sipping in promptitude. you leaned back, tucking your chair as far as you could against the table. it finally caught lando’s attention, briefly, when he gave you a once over with a cheeky smile. max caught the action, raising a brow at you, but you simply swallowed down your drink and crossed your hands over your lap.

your lap, that so happened to house lando’s hand between your thighs. your cunt was clothed by your panties, but you could still feel the pressure of his finger lodging against your slit.

you wrapped your hand around his wrist, gripping tight with the desire for him to stop, but he would do no such thing. he went as far as using his ring finger to stroke the cotton of your underwear, grazing over your clit as if it were nothing. he circled around your tender bundle of nerves, refusing to leave it alone.

your second hand came to wrap around his wrist, higher up on his forearm, pleading indefinitely to halt his movements. your thighs clenched impossibly tight around his hand, suffocating him, but it didn’t stop him. it only had him steadfast in his pursuit– to get you to come at this dinner table.

with your force against his forearm, you were sure to leave bruises of your fingertips in your wake. but you didn’t care. through your tension, he could feel your pleasure. he knew that you would writhe, squirm, but you couldn’t. not here.

you found yourself trembling. your grip around his wrist softened, lip caught between your top set of teeth. you were lucky that the tablecloth was acting as a barrier between any wandering eyes–though, shamefully, that was the last thing on your mind.

but right now, you felt yourself coming to a clearing. a light at the end of the tunnel in the name of your orgasm. shit.

it took only one quick glance around the room to see that everyone was done with their meals. with empty plates, they were awaiting more. and more you shall give, best to get up rather than submit to lando’s toilsome teasing. you couldn’t give him this pleasure. not when he toyed with you, refused to admit to any truths that might belittle his feelings.

you finally shoved his hand away. it took all the might you had, and it even had his head shifting in your direction. you stood, and he immediately tugged the hem of your skirt down beneath the table cloth. if anyone noticed, they didn’t say a word.

“dessert, anyone?”

there was a small rally of cheers, and you smiled. it was the only thing that could get your mind off of lando’s hand between your legs. the flushed expression you wore didn’t wane until you were alone in the kitchen.

it was ice cream that was for dessert, and that would be enough. you put out some toppings for them to choose from, and returned with the platter. you set it toward the center of the table, and the pickings were gone instantly. everyone had their own serving, side bowl, ready to go.

but lando waited for you to settle back in before he grabbed a pint of vanilla. he nudged the ice cream scooper towards your direction, a silent indication that had him asking if he could serve yours. you simply nodded, even though your cunt burned with the phantom touch of his fingers. he did that to you in no way another man could. leave you wanting more. sex with your ex boyfriend had been a joke. you never came. ever. you only did when it was at your own hand, your own touch. but with lando…

lando on that balcony, dressed in the pale moonlight. you, his angel, glowing halo of energy illuminating your face, unraveled before him. he doesn’t think he’s ever met such a woman receptive to his touch. he’s fucked girls before, too many for max’s taste–hence his displeasure– but they weren’t like you. they didn’t squirm, whimper, in his hold. they’d moan like they were being televised, recorded, ready to be on a screen play.

you were natural. beautiful. incapable of being anyone but yourself. he admired you for such bravery, commending you silently through the cosmic planes. though you could not hear the words from him, you felt a warmth coming from his direction despite the cold treat being scooped into the dish in front of you.

he gave you more than enough and smiled. a real one, you caught. it was a break from the humidity, a breeze that was most welcomed upon your skin. fuck. you were supposed to be mad at him, weren’t you? weren't you supposed to plot your volatile revenge for him touching you?

you were.

when he settled beside you with his own serving, you were quick to shuffle a bit closer to him. the chair scooted across the floor, a vibration felt beneath his own, and he bristled. what were you up to? you appeared to be happier, a bit less caught up in your own head, and that he could be grateful for. you even engaged in a few conversations with max’s friends.

they were lovely chaps, truly, but they were his friends. not yours.

lando was just about to respond to a question that max had asked him, but he coughed on his ice cream, the feeling of your fingertips darting across his crotch taking a huge galavanting surprise out of him. he didn’t know that you had such austerity within you, but it was a welcome discovery.

but your skillfulness was not.

the outline of his cock beneath his shorts was obvious. you felt the light curve, the tip, the base all beneath your palm. it was an empowering sensation, hidden beneath the table cloth, and lando had to outstretch both of his hands to steady himself.

“y’alright, mate?” max asked when lando coughed. the british driver nodded beside you, leaning forward.

“yeah. fine. carry on?” max repeated his question for lando. before he was about to answer for a second time, your hand curled around the base of his cock, feeling full in your palm. your thumb brushed against his tip, smiling to yourself when you felt a light wet patch against your finger.

he sucked in a tight breath, but answered max with a strained voice. he clenched his jaw tight and his tongue poked the inside of his cheek. you knew you were riling him, and it was paying off to see him flustered.

you continued your stroking motion discreetly beneath the table. the excitement of being caught was perhaps too thrilling, and the presence of your hand against his cock only excited you further. he was big. that was enough for you to be floored. your guesses as a edgy teenage girl were correct, and the woman inside of you purred at the idea of him inside of you.

little did you know, he thought the same. when his fingers were lodged inside your hot folds, your deathly tight grip clamping around him, he knew that he had to have you. he knew it years ago, too, but just how pretty you were atop of him…how receptive you were to his touch– it was a pillar of pleasure that continued to build and build, until it will ultimately fall.

until it will fall, and he is deep inside of you. with the outline of his cock embedded in your lower belly he would feel satisfied, with his cum dripping from your cunt, he could find a peace from this torturous lust that overtook every fucking part of his mind. he needed you. carnally. in whatever fashion labeled him as a barbarian, he would hunt you down if that is what you wanted.

and maybe you did.

you wanted him to chase you. to fight for you. to appease the teenage girl inside of you that yearned for his affections, his oblivious attentions. you felt that you deserved it for all the work you put in through your teendom. the boys you rejected. the time you gave up to attend his races.

was that such a bad thing to be wanted? to be wanted above all, by the man of your wonderlike dreams? but was he so dreamy, then, when he glanced at you with his needy, preening eyes when you held his cock so firm in your hand?

the answer was undoubtedly yes.

you felt the pulse of his cock against your hand. it was a delectable vibration that beat for you of all people. you felt more than divine prowess gripping his length, such a dirty, lewd, action beneath the table. and none of them knew what you had been doing. how you were affecting him. it was a secret wasn’t it?

the catalyst for your movements was about to be thwarted when he readjusted his hips in the chair, bucking fiercely against your touch, your hold on his dick.

conversations around you began to dull down to a minimum. the night was ending, and he felt himself rearing a release. but he couldn’t. not here. fuck. he gripped on your hand beneath the table, shivering, shaking, as he pleaded you with his eyes. they were wide drawn, glossed with a desperation that you needed permanently in your life. it was a face you wouldn’t forget. ever. how he yearned to cum in your hand, but it wasn’t the right time. when would be the right time?

“since you made dinner,” max began, letting out a grueling burp, “i say we lot ‘ought to tidy up, shall we?” the boys nodded and hummed amongst each other in agreement. they made quick pace clearing the table, and this was lando’s excuse to rip himself free of your devilish hand. though he wanted nothing more than to cum with your sleek fingertips, he had to be nonchalant about it all.

he cleared his throat when he stood, feigning a quietness that felt unusual, but no one said a word. you smiled to yourself, pulling your hand away back to your lap. it was damp from his precum, sordid with an urge to pop a finger or two into your mouth. and you did. pretending to clean yourself from any residue of icecream, you licked your fingers clean.

lando stared. unable to take his eyes off of you. he lingered with his hand around your bowl and plate, his breath hitching in his throat. devil woman, he thought.

when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher and the fragile ones laid out to dry, you finally stood. you arched your back, stretching your limbs, but felt cold on your cunt. it was the air conditioning that cooled you, reminding you that he was the one to tease you first beneath the table.

your brother bid you goodnight with a kiss to your cheek, whilst the others thanked you sincerely for the meal. you were grateful to receive such gratitude, but it wasn’t from the man you wanted it the most.

tucking your chair into the table, you made your way into the grand kitchen. with its tiled walls, marbled kitchen island, lando stood at the epicenter. with a towel in his hand, drying the last few of the dishes, he watched you saunter in.

his tongue poked at the inner corner of his cheek with a clenched jaw. boy, did he have words for you. you and your actions. how you ruined him at the dinner table whilst talking to your brother of all people. it was like you wanted them to see–

when you joined him side by side, the pair of you said nothing for a moment. but the moment when lando scanned the room front to back, he dropped the towel and grabbed onto you.

he spun you around so your front pushed against the kitchen aisle, your back arching against the palm of his hand. his second went around the front of your throat, pulling your head up to his own.

“that what you wanted?” he growled into your ear, trembling with his edged orgasm teetering on the tailend of a massacre. “hmm? tell me, baby.”

you were at a loss of words, dizzied from the grip around your throat. you wished that he would leave bruises.

then he bent you over the counter, the cool surface eliciting a gasp from deep within you. his hand flexed over your back, scaling your spine.

“being a fucking tease…”

“you started it.” you retaliated with a childlike immaturity.

lando chuckled as his crotch came flush against your cunt. your wet, dampening cunt by the second. the hand that had been latched to your throat moved to your skirt, toying with the fabric. he scoffed, feeling the wetness of your panties. “bet you’re still wet anyways.”

you were.

your face flushed.

“dirty fucking girl.” he said quietly, a comment to himself, but loud enough for you to hear. you swayed your hips against his, desperate for a flickering sensation of friction.

“ah ah,” he tsked, landing a slap to your ass. the sound ricocheted through the echoing kitchen. “think you deserve it after tonight?”

you mewled in response, your cheek freezing against the countertop. the heat from your asscheek was enough to satisfy you for the moment, your thighs clenching together. he ogled, head twisting in a fashion that was revered with lust.

with a fist he made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, pulling your head back against his chest. “hmm?”

“no.”

“no?” he’d repeat. you nodded your head, submitting to him without question. he was peeved that you didn’t fight back, but would take your submission with earnestness. but you had other plans brewing inside your head. ones that you knew would drive him up the fucking wall.

but that would come later. for now, you let your head fall backward onto his shoulder, and looked up at him. “let me fix it…”

your whimpering had his eye twitching, lip curling, arms flexing. it was a gut reaction to how soft your voice had become, how eager he knew you were.

his hold on you loosened, and you took this as your opportunity to spin around and drop to your knees in front of him. you couldn’t help but gape at his thundering cock beneath his shorts, salivating at just the thought of him filling your mouth.

but he said nothing else, stunned in his place; how could he not be when you regarded him with ardor, quivering hands?

“please…” you said, your cheek coming to nuzzle against his thigh, one hand gripping the back of his calf. he couldn’t reject you like this. not when he wanted you so dearly.

a hand came to run through your hair atop your head. an nonverbal, encouraging pet. you hummed, making quick work of lowering his shorts, his briefs, and his cock sprung free with vitality. it was red hot, pulsating with blood, beating a bright scarlet for you. it glistened with his own slick for you.

“go on, love,” he was breathless. “you can take it, can’t you?”

you nodded furiously, a whine leaving your lips. with your determined fingers, you wrapped them around his base, pumping your hand back and forth. it didn’t take much before he was leaking over your palm, and you let your lips swirl around his tip.

his head fell back in pleasure, fingers tightening his grip in your hair. with his empty hand, he gripped the island to support his weight from toppling upon you.

he was both sweet and salty, a sensation you’ve never tasted before. you continued your relentless pursuit on his tip until he was wrought with desperation, and let his hips buck forward until he was half way down your throat.

you groaned in protest, your eyes watering with tears, but took him like the good girl you were. he wanted you, and you wanted him. you could ask for nothing more.

“just like that, baby–” he stuttered out, voice cracking when you took him whole down your throat. you breathed through your nose. “fuck,” he cursed, your lips puckering, even stimulating him with the top ridges of your teeth. he let out a deep moan.

“perfect,” he commented, but you thought you misheard him for a moment. “you’re perfect.”

it persuaded you further–not like much was needed– and sped up your pace. faster and faster you went, guzzling him perfectly. with your other hand that gripped his calf, calm to knead at his balls. that was the moment he faltered, unable to withstand your feverish tongue. he had to bite back his own groans of pleasure.

“where?” he demanded of you. you paused, but didn’t take long for your answer. he was holding himself back as much he could, his hips bucking down the hot cavern of your throat, but you didn’t relent. my mouth, your actions screamed, and he didn’t think twice.

before you knew it your mouth was loaded with his cum, hot rods of delectable nectar from him. you were pleased, more than satisfied, that you made him cum in just a matter of minutes.

he pulled himself out of you, letting you breathe. you swallowed, not finding him distasteful, and even showed him your bare tongue. he was panting, attempting his best to catch his breath, but managed a coarse chuckle.

you gave his flaccid cock a singular kiss before you rose to your feet, bringing his shorts and briefs up with you. he adjusted himself before launching his lips on your own. the remnants of him were prominent on your tastebuds as he swirled his tongue into your mouth. you allowed his strength, making a sound from your throat.

“taste like me,” he commented against your lips. you beam.

“must’ve been good, then?” you knew it was. but you wanted to hear it from him.

he snickered. “guess so.”

you slapped his chest before breaking your kiss. you glanced up at him one more time before placing a kiss on his cheek, escaping his grasp. he held onto your hand, though, wondering just where you were going. not when he didn’t have you cumming on his tongue.

“it’s past my bedtime,” you remarked, raising your brows. his own scrunched. “what?”

“let me–”

you shushed him.

“on the house.”

you were gone before he could respond, skipping up the steps, ready to set your plan in motion. he didn’t know what was coming, not yet, but he surely would once you closed the door to your room, and stripped of your clothes.

you left him there pondering. he was entirely at a loss— you skirting away with ease, high tail with that lacey material– and vanished without another word. it had lando breathing heavily, hands running through his hair. shit, he thought, this was bad.

in the bathroom of your suite, you twisted the shower on. whilst waiting for it to heat up, you turned your attention towards the open shaft windows that you could prop open. your room is next to mine, lando’s words rang through your head. okay, you thought, game on, right?

you made sure the windows were open at a respectable distance, praying that his own would be too. he liked the cool breeze from the night, pray tell from his times of sleeping in max’s room in your childhood home.

glancing at yourself in the mirror once, you were betting on this to work. to truly grab his attention, whilst also awarding yourself a release you’d been craving since his fingertips caressed your knee.

into the shower you went, tilting your head back and letting the waterfall drench your scalp. it was relaxing, more than you anticipated, and your mind was able to wander to other things. like his hands. his toned, muscular arms. his neck, built intensely with strength that you’ve never seen before. in certain lights, especially beneath the italian sun, it bulged outward. you wondered what it’d feel like between your thighs. your fingers wandered along your soaked skin, breasts reacting to your touch, taut beneath your palms.

lando had just shut the door to his room, shaking off the sweat that dribbled down his forehead. and his windows were open— the curtains swaying back and forth— and he heard your call.

at first, the british driver thought that he was hallucinating. that he was hearing things from losing it. but there was no denying that it was your sweet siren serenading through the air, wafting against the mediterranean winds.

a moan had been pulled from you by your own hand. your head flat against the tiles of the shower wall, you twisted until your cheek was firm against the siding. one hand came to rest on the base of your throat, gripping for comfort, while the other trailed downward to your navel, priming at your folds.

you were swollen hot, but never to the same degree you were on his lap just the previous night.

it was enough, though, for you to rub against your clit the way you knew your body best. a delicious combination of whimpers and moans trembling through the air.

lando was brought to his fantasies, unbelieving that they were coming alive before him. he leaned against the windows from his room, hand clenching tight around the ledge, and listened to your whining calls, urging him, tempting him, to knock down your fucking door and fuck you like you wanted him.

a finger slid easily inside of you. with both stimulation to your clit and your sensitive nerves inside of you, it was heaven. the hot water combined with your punitive thoughts, tracing back to lando, aroused you to a degree unfathomable to any pleasure you’ve ever felt. besides his fingers, that is.

lando couldn’t resist. his own cock was blistering with heat, again, in just the span of ten minutes. you had just been on his knees for him. now, here you were, a siren within the night, taking him under your bewitching.

and spellcasted he was.

with his dick in his hands, he was dripping. your sounds became louder, prominent, for his open window. and he absorbed every droplet you gave him, a man dehydrated of the world’s most sweet nectar. he was greedy, selfish even, and knew then that he had to be yours. he didn’t give a fuck what max said, thought, cared about this moment. it would belong to him and him alone— your saccharine temper.

he could imagine you there, thinking about just how desperate he was. how you knew what you were doing to him. how he unfolded before your voice.

you were.

you thought of his face. how it contorted with pleasure while you sucked him off. you’d remember the sounds he made— whimpers of desperate, wicked nature— that had you curling your finger inside of you, even becoming so bold as to add a second. it should be criminal to think of your brother’s best friend this way, but that thought came and went just as the tides changed.

lando fisted his cock with the thought of you wrapped around him. hand draped across the ledge of the windowsill, he writhed and seethed from his own daring thoughts of you. your skirt, your pretty eyes, your wondrous nature. he was awed by you, but wanted to damn you to ruin with his touch. it pursued him further, and he knew he wasn’t going to last long.

surely he wouldn’t, not when he heard his name carry through the air. his name rolling off your tongue. his name in the form of a whimper.

“lando,” you breathed, loud enough to surpass the stream of the water. and your stomach coiled, reaching an orgasm before you could count to three.

lando had, too, spurring loads of his come into his empty hand. it wasn’t an elegant movement— rather messy and untamed— but that’s how it was when it came to you, wasn’t it? nothing was going to be easy about this relationship he conjured up in his head, but for you, though it’d be worthwhile.

you went to bed that night with a sleep full of your wildest, fanatical dreams that included lando. whereas he tossed and turned, unable to believe that the girl he knew in his childhood had him wrought with lust.

the morning that followed was a quiet one. you and the rest of the vacation group of boys were headed out to one of italy’s finest beaches, chartered there by a small boat. you had opted for one of your best bathing suits and cover up pieces, looking outright chic.

when you arrived at the beach, you stuck closely to max’s side. the entire ride, lando had been stealing glances from you, shifting awkwardly in his seat. you had your answer from your plan the previous night. he heard you.

good, you thought, crossing your legs over one another. serves him right.

you’d lay out your towel on the white sand. your brother joined you, laying down a few feet from you along with some of his buddies. lando kept his distance, knowing too fucking well that’d he’d pull some feral shit in front of you and your brother.

some of the others opted for surfing. with their boards ready from the rental shack, they were catching waves with ease. you watched from your upright position, lathering yourself in spf.

“what’dya think of chris?” your brother asked you. you turned your head, wondering what he was implying. chris was one of his good-natured, all classic, sweet boy friends. you’d known him for a good majority of your life, but never…really thought of him.

“he’s a good guy.”

lando was sitting up now. listening.

“well,” max shrugged, taking your nonchalant answer with grace. “asked me if it was okay to give him your number. think he fancies you.”

your expression dropped. chris fancied you? in what universe could he, when he couldn’t even manage a conversation with you. you weren’t even sure he could ever muster the courage to look you in the eye, for that matter.

“and…what did you say?”

max looked at you with his sunglasses on. you saw your reflection in them.

“think it’s fine. ‘e’s a good lad. nice. well-mannered.” he emphasized his last point. was that a jab at your previous boyfriends? “besides…i wanna see you happy.”

it was touching, truly, that your brother cared for you on such a protective level, but you didn’t need him meddling with your romantic life. not when the man who consumed your sexual thoughts sat a few bodies next to you.

your eyes drifted to find lando’s. he was already glaring, sending sharp daggers your direction. he heard it all, and was about to combust with jealousy. you could see it. you’d use it.

“maybe.” you brushed it off, but found chris in the waters. he was just coming out from the sea, and you thought this was your perfect opportunity.

you jumped to your feet, sunglasses on, and tore your cover up from your body. you didn’t look back to know what lando’s expression was— worshiping.

chris’ head popped up when he saw you approaching him. he shifted a bit, as if he were preening his feathers.

“catch any good ones?” you asked, your feet touching the water. chris cleared his throat.

“some,” he gestured to the large waves. “current is strong today.”

you edged further into the water until your knees were covered.

“you looked good out there, at least i think so.” you managed a smile, not entirely opposed to his company. your brother had been right. he is a nice lad. you should at least build a friendship with him, shouldn’t you?

“really?” he was shocked. “you were watching?”

you nodded with a hum, and continued further out into the blue waters. chris took this as an invitation and dropped his board high up on the sand and followed you in. he wasn’t as built as lando was, but you shouldn’t even be making the comparisons.

you stopped when the water was just beneath your breasts. water seeped in through your top, and you noticed that chris’ eyes caught on the fabric. typical.

“what do you do for work, then? are you a student?” you managed a brief conversation with him. chris met you at your side.

“business student in scotland,” he confirmed, but he wasn’t all cocky about it. you thought that he’d boast, but he didn’t. “yourself?”

you told him your plans. he was impressed that you’d accomplished so much at your age.

and your conversation with him went on, but not without the darkness of lando’s envy over your shoulder. you’d taken a few glances over chris’ shoulder to see his reddened expression, watching the pair of you share a few laughs.

he wanted this day to be fucking over. he wanted you in his bed. and he would have it one way or another— whatever it takes.

arriving back to the villa that evening, your brother and his friends wanted to go out clubbing. it was around 8pm and the sun was beginning to set, though you didn’t feel like a night out. the sun had gotten to you, and you were rather tired.

“you’re sure you don’t wanna go?” max asked you in the foyer, waiting for the rest of his band to go along.

“i’m sure. besides, i could use a night in.” your brother respected your choice and didn’t push you further. before he left with his friends, he did turn and leave you with one comment.

“lando’s here, too, in case you need anything.”

and then he was gone, tailending with chris flashing you a smile.

shit.

shit, shit, shit. you knew you were in for it now. there was no way that you’d escape lando for the evening, unsure how he caught notice that you’d be staying in for the night.

when the door shut and the house was empty, you raced up to your room. you’d worn a floor length slip dress when you’d gotten home, but wanted to change and lock yourself in for the rest of the night. but your situation changed drastically when you reached the first step, and saw lando leaning against the staircase from the top.

“just you and me, yeah?”

you gulped, taking a few steps back. he looked furious yet unbothered at the same time.

“what to do, what to do…” he began to saunter down the steps when you moved back. “in this big, empty house…?”

he trailed after you all the way until you were on the balcony. he slipped out from the sliding door, watching as you were frantically nervous in his presence. you had no idea what he was thinking, watching you all day flirt with chris.

your back was against the stone balustrade, hands spread wide to support yourself. your heart was racing, but you wouldn’t let him see that. wouldn’t show him the effect he had.

lando wore a black ln4 shirt from his collection, along with tan sweatpants. it was an understatement to say he didn’t look fucking good.

he donned a cocky smirk as he closed the distance between the two of you, leaning into your space. you felt his breath on your cheek.

“he’s a good lad, innhe?”

you met his eye— his blue, green eyes that were swarmed with a darkness you didn’t believe him capable of.

“he’s nice.” you said, referring to chris. because he was. he was respectful.

“‘he’s nice.’” lando mocked, scoffing. he turned his head to the side to look over your shoulder to the coastline that surrounded the villa.

“yes, he’s nice.” you bit back, brows furrowing. “more than i can say for you.”

lando’s expression froze, tongue poking at the inside of his cheek. his jaw tightened as he processed your words, foot tapping against the stone.

“yeah? you don’t think i’m good to you?”

whatever this was…you loved it. you craved him. needed him. there was a zing of electricity that ran down your spine, electrifying your cunt. your thighs tightened together and you shrugged, playing him off the best that you could.

he tsked, tilting your chin to meet his eyes with his index finger. “we’ll see.”

and then his lips were on yours. ravaging. starving. he was a man that has been deprived of you for far too long— twenty four hours— without your touch. it was maddening the way he was obsessed with you. how you infested every corner of his mind. you, you, and more you.

you succumbed to his kiss with ease, your tongues battling between one another. he tasted of espresso, whereas you tasted of the apple liquor from the boat.

he won, ultimately, a hand coming to wrap around the back of your neck. your own latched to his shoulders, another going for his hair. you tugged on the strands, eliciting a groan from him that you wished to hear over and over, time and time again. you were sure that you would, not daring to ever let him go. you had him surrounded.

his tongue lathered over yours, dripping saliva down your chin. it was messy, intangibly so, but you’d have him no other way. you wanted him like this, uncontrolled, pining, for your affections. you had him in the place you wanted, and he had more in store for you.

he broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting the pair of you. your eyes heavy with desire, his own mirroring the same. his kisses traveled to your jaw, your throat— but he sucked feverishly against the skin, surely to leave bruises. you gasped when you felt his teeth puncture through the top layer of your skin. “marks—”

you reminded him, but he didn’t care.

“fuck what they think.”

you melted where you stood. his hand came to wrap around your lower back, angling your hips to brush against his. he was already hard, you could feel it, but you were sure that you were dribbling too.

his relentless pursuit of your neck didn’t end there. when he met the fabric of your dress, he pulled the straps down with ease, your breasts falling free. he ogled at your mounds, saliva dripping from his chin. it was, perhaps, the hottest sight you’ve ever seen. not the waterfalls of france, not the cascades of lake como— but this, right here— lando norris drooling on your chest.

“what would you do with ‘nice’?” he mumbled into your skin, attacking one of your perked nipples with his tongue. you gasped, biting your lip to retain a moan.

“he could treat me well,” you seethed through clenched teeth, gripping the strands of his brunette curls. you felt him vibrate with a hum.

“you’d eat him alive.” he chuckled, switching to your other nipple that was blistering with heat. your entire body radiated like the sun, but did no good beneath the moonlight. “what would he do—” a nip of his teeth against your nipple, you jolted, hips bucking forward with an anxious pension for friction. “with all of this?”

you were at a loss for words, drowning in his sweetness.

“let it go to waste…” lando dropped to his knees with a hand still firm on your back, the other raising the hem of your dress. he tsked, cheek flattening out against your thighs. he separated them with the strength of his neck, looking up at you from the bundled fabric. “a shame.”

you agreed mercilessly, nodding your head with a whimper. it elicited a laugh from him.

with a singular finger he pulled down your panties. the cotton was thin, as if you knew this would happen. they slid down your legs and you kicked them away.

your hand was still threaded at the base of his neck, continuing to tug at his strands. it’s how you told him you needed him, but that wouldn’t be enough. not for lando.

“what do you want?” he asked, looking up at you from his seated position, face wedged between your legs. you gaped at him, breathless and flushed.

“your mouth—” you pant, but before you could finish he licked a long stripe down your folds. “god, fuck—”

“not god,” lando corrected. “just me, baby.”

“lando, lando…!” you whined, back arching for a better angle for him to reach. he responded, humming against your clit, sending throttling vibrations up your navel. he was so fucking good. how? how could a man treat you in such a way?

finding your writhing adorable, he finally let his tongue swipe past your entrance. the sensation was indescribable, but you knew that you needed more. and more he was willing to give, burying his face into your cunt.

your honeyed cunt that he was addicted to. he knew you’d taste like heaven, but this was all the more holy than he could fathom.

with his face buried inside of you, you were sure to see stars. here, beneath the moonlight of the italian villa, you were ethereal. he could steal glances up at you. your contorting face, toiling with passion. passion that he drank from the source, sucking you dry.

his nose applied pressure to your clit— the perfect combination— and you knew that you weren’t going to last long. not with his jean paul scent invaded your senses, his thick hands cupping you so perfectly. one hand kneaded at the flesh of your thigh, the other swirling circles on your lower back. it was perfect. he’s perfect.

“please, please,” you didn’t know what you were begging for.

lando hummed, feeling your cunt clench around his tongue. he curled inside of you, teetering you upon your edge, and you were just about to let loose when he pulled his head away, leaving you trembling.

he stood with ease, as if he wasn’t just devouring you, and you reached out for his hand. you were about to reach the peak of a mind blowing orgasm, but he denied you. with your hand wrapped around his, he knew how this would end. his lips came to your ear.

“you were right,” he huffed. you felt his retentive anger. “don’t know if i’m nice.”

he tugged you along through the house, hand upon your back steading your shaking stance. too impatient to help you up the steps, he swooped you into his arms bridal style. you gasped with a giggle, reflexive from his actions, and he burst open the door to his room with his shoulder.

he dropped you onto his bed, ripping off his shirt in the process you propped yourself up on your elbows, gaping clearly at his tanned, toned skin. he smirked down at you, coming to hover above, and stripped the dress clean from your body. before him, you were bare, naked, more exposed than you've ever been with your brother’s best friend.

you went to cover your chest, clamp your thighs shut, but lando refused. he trapped your wrists above your head, knee coming to separate your legs. you wiggled your hips hopelessly for friction, still wading heavy on your lost orgasm, but he didn’t let you graze his thigh.

“you’re being mean,” you whined, attempting to twist out of his hold. but you didn’t prevail.

lando’s lips met yours with a kiss of depravity. he pulled away, but you chased him, your head leveraging from the bed.

“am i?”

one hand left the hold on your wrists to touch your cunt. you were dripping down your thighs. he brought his fingers to his lips, wiping them clean.

“think you like it, love.”

you hissed when he took his hand from you, but relaxed when he kneaded one of your breasts. he was in utter reverence of your body, your beauty. you eclipsed all things that shined bright in his life, you becoming the epicenter.

his pants were off in the next second, thrown to the corner of his room. his briefs, too, and his cock danced freely from its entrapment. your mouth watered.

“this what you need?” his tip teased your entrance. your eyes rolled back into your head with a frenzied nod. “yeah? think you can take it?”

“yes, yes! i can, i can, please lando…” your hand latched around the back of his neck, the other to his shoulder.

it didn’t take him much convincing to surge forward, agonizingly slow, until he has inside of you. you choked on your breath, the air ripped right from you lungs with how he stretched you. it was alike no pleasure you’ve felt— his fingers, his tongue, all works of mastery— but you feared that nothing could compare to this. not when his hand around your breasts drop to your cunt, rubbing voracious circles against your clit.

he let you adjust, waiting until you shook your hips from side to side, and bottomed out. it was surreal how you ended up here. but you wouldn’t go back. not for a second. not when his dick inside of you ripped through you with such passion, such love, you were inclined to imagine.

lando’s own breaths were wild. erratic. he had to halt himself from slamming inside of you, your tightening, wet walls gleaning him of any morals he had come into this villa with.

“move,” you urged him, breaking him free of this torment. his eyes flared wide. “need you to move.”

need

such an all encompassing word that would drive him mad.

he listened to you without hesitation. his hips slapping in and out of you with a heavy, dangerous pace, he never wanted this moment to end. it would feel like this every time he fucked you— the first, starstruck time— and that would be enough for him to lay to rest in an early grave.

both of you were a mess of moans, sounds of skin on skin echoing through his bedroom. the moonlight casted a white haze upon the pair of you, your eyes shimmering in the reflection. he was lost in it, in you, how seraphic you’d become in just the few days he’d been around you. how undone he became. he was a lost cause the minute you made a jest to him at the dinner table.

his chest lowered to yours for a better, sweeter, angle and it had you screaming. your nails cut through his back, leaving reddened scratches against his tanned, freckled skin. he loved it. it had his pace quickening, and his hand working harder at your clit. you were close, he could feel it.

feeling the way you began to tighten around him, how you became barely lucid beneath him. “so good,” you mewled, finding no other words but to praise him.

“nothing compares,” he groaned, his head falling into the crook of your neck. “you’ll be mine then, yeah?”

your heart surged in your chest, but your breathing remained the same. you were too fucked out to truly resonate the meaning behind his words.

“yours, yours,” you repeated over and over until you were sent over the edge. you screamed his name, cutting through the air, cutting through him. he was left a sopping mess with his quivering hips, sloppy pace. you knew he was going to cum, too, when his teeth grinded together, and he let out a guttural moan. it churned your insides, swishing your heart through.

he came inside of you. you felt it, the heat from his cock. but he made no effort to move. you didn’t want him to.

the pair of you laid atop one another in his dark room. panting. catching your breaths. in unison your hearts would align. sweaty bodies melting against each other.

his head was buried deep into your neck, breathing you in. you soothed him, just as much as you riled him to no end.

“did you mean it?” you asked, voice hoarse.

lando hummed.

“about us.”

you felt his teeth break into a smile against your skin. he raised his head to look at you. “i did.” your breath caught in your throat. “don’t give a shit what max’ll say. we’ll figure it out, won’t we?”

you nodded in agreement. your brother would simply have to deal with this. he’d get over it in time, you’re sure, and it would be the best for both of you. no longer would you yearn at a distance for a man you thought didn’t spare you a second glance. no longer would you dream of this moment materializing before you. it had become a reality, and there was nothing more that you could be grateful for.

he wanted you. lando wanted you. and you wanted him the same. it was one of the first times in your life that you felt safe. comforted in a newborn relationship.

it wasn’t long before lando pulled the covers of his sheets over the two of you, holding you tight as you shifted into the shape of his body. you were a perfect fit, a missing puzzle piece that he’s been searching years for.

and now you were here, sleeping soundly in his arms.

lando had found sleep, too, his soft snores carrying through the room. you and him paid no attention to the fact you were sharing a bed. if anyone walked in, then they walked in. you were at peace, and that was enough.

sooner rather than later, the party-goers for the evening arrived home. they attempted their best to be quiet at such an odd hour, and decided to retire. max and chris went out to the balcony, however, and decided for a small chat.

but before that could even commence, chris noticed a piece of black fabric loose on the patio. he stared at it from above, brows raised.

“mate,” he called max over. he met him at his side.

“this yours?” he pointed down at it, and his face went ghastly white. no fucking way.

“motherfucker.”

tags ; @landoslutmeout @basicallyric @mybluesoul1 @toriiez @customsbyjcg-blog @sofs16@strengthandstay@mybluesoul1@f1fantasys@cmleitora @idgasb @amalialeclerc @laneyspaulding19 @staurdvst @oreosareara @sideboobrry11 @mortallyblueninja @fionamiller123 @2pagenumb @marvelfangirl04 @brune77e @allabouthappiness @tellybearryyyy @ringdingdingdingx @tillyt04 @danywonderland @rosebud224 @simpfortoomanymen @nataliambc @forcesensitivesoulmate @sweate-r-weathe-r @norlestappen @madszoca @milkandcookhot @fionamiller123 @16f1lc @jwiltsz @plotpal @inevesgf @theonottsbxtch

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swordsandholly · 5 months ago

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Cherry Bomb - tattoo parlor anthology

MDNI | poly 141 x fem fat reader | masterlist

Part 3: Bubble Tea

“Hey.” Kyle murmurs, hand lightly grazing over your shoulders to rest on the back of your neck. His palm feels warm on your skin and you unconsciously lean back into it.

“Hm?” You look up from where you were hunched over your phone - definitely not shopping for a new purse on company time.

“Gonna go pick up lunch f’the shop. Want t’ come with? I don’t think I can carry it all myself.” He asks. His eyes are always so soft when he looks at you. Relaxed and bright with that constant slight quirk in the corners of his lips.

“Oh! Yeah, sounds good.” You grin, standing quickly and grabbing your wallet out of your purse to shove into your back pocket. Might as well get something for yourself if you’re going out. “Where are we heading?”

“That poke place a couple blocks up.” Kyle nods in the intended direction.

You follow him out of the shop. The weather has begun to warm more. Still cool enough for long sleeves but the sun feels nice on your face as you trot up the street, speed walking to keep up with Kyle and his accursed long legs.

“Switch with me.” Kyle murmurs, hand flattening on your lower back as he steps to the road side of the sidewalk.

You snort, cheeks warming when his hand remains a few beats longer than necessary. “How chivalrous.”

He chuckles. “My grandad always said t’never let a lady walk by the street. Guess it stuck with me.”

As much as you want to tease him about playing into gender roles, you can’t lie and say you don’t like it. That it doesn’t make your heart patter and your stomach flutter. Growing up fat, you never really got the chance to be treated delicately. Femininely. Always expected to be tougher, louder, more masculine. It feels good. Healing, in a way, as stupid as it is.

God, your inner monologue is embarrassing.

The shop is smaller than you expected. Tucked away like many buildings in this downtown with a short, blue awning shading the teal colored door. It’s surprisingly crowded too, people packed in like sardines and filing in and out quickly. The inside is nicely decorated - a few tables off to the side that no one seems to stay at. They more so seem to act as a waiting spot until people get their food and head out. The menu board is shaped like a bright blue, wall-length fish.

“Ladies first.” Kyle grins, opening the door for you. You roll your eyes at him, earning a pinch to your side in return. It’s almost strange how easy things are with him - with all of them. You don’t think you’ve ever been this comfortable around a group of men before. That would probably make you sad if you thought about it for long enough.

Kyle passes you a little clipboard with a stack of papers to customize your poke bowl and a small pen. He begins filling out three for the others, seemingly from memory. You wonder how often they come down here - if it’s their favorite local spot or just convenient. You look over his shoulder, snooping for the others preferences. Apparent Simon likes a lot of spice. Johnny, not so much.

Your eyes widen as you reach the bottom of your menu. “They have boba!”

“You want some?” Kyle grins.

You nod excitedly. Like a kid discovering a new candy. It’s been so long since you got your hands on some bubble tea - if you’d known they had it sooner you would’ve been in here nearly everyday. Then again, maybe it’s good that you didn’t know.

Kyle holds out his hand. You look between it and his face dumbly for a few moments, clutching your order in your hands before putting the pieces together.

“I can get my own!” You insist. “I don’t-“

“Price’s treat, love.” He snags the paper from your hands. “He always pays when we come here.”

“Oh. Okay.” You chew your lip. “I can at least pay for my drink, since it’s extra-“

He just waves you off and marches up to the register. You don’t miss the fact that he pulls out a very shiny credit card. So it’s not Price’s treat. It’s a company treat, eh?

Not that you’re going to complain. Free poke and boba is a dream come true.

Kyle takes your little plastic number, ducking to snag a now freed up table to wait at. They’re tall, causing you to scramble unceremoniously to get up in the heightened chair. You think you see him laughing out of the corner of your eye, but as soon as you face him he’s just sitting with that usual, casual smile of his.

One of the workers brings over your drinks in a little carrier, saying the food will take a minute longer. You’ve never been patient, greedily grabbing your tea and aggressively stabbing through the cover.

“When do you think John’s gonna let you do your first real tattoo?” You ask, kicking your feet under the tall chair.

Kyle shrugs. “He said soon. I think he’s waitin’ for me to’ be less nervous about it. Plus I need to find someone to do it on-“

“You can do it on me.” You blurt without thinking.

He eyes you. “Really?”

You nod excitedly. “I really like your work - at least what I’ve seen of it. It doesn’t have to be anything big. I’m perfectly happy with one your black-only flashes. That way you can start small.”

“I don’t know…”

“Plus, John says I sit real good. I’m not gonna wriggle and fuck you up.” You chew your straw absentmindedly.

“And what do you get out of this?” Kyle cocks and eyebrow, that slight, constant smirk only growing across his face.

You tap your chin. “Bragging rights when you get famous someday. I got the first official Garrick tattoo ever!”

A surprised laugh forces it’s way out of him, sending him into a coughing fit around the drink he was sipping. “Don’t think I’m gonna be that good, love.”

You reach out, resting your hand over his as a strange wave of seriousness overtakes you. “I don’t think John would take you on as an apprentice if he didn’t think so. Plus, you should hear how much he brags about you. It’s almost insufferable.”

There’s something in his eyes as he gives you another once over. It’s slower this time, dragging up your arm and across your features and back down your other arm, coming to an end where your hand lays over his. Kyle turns his hand upward, brushing his two middle fingers over your pulse point. It steals your breath, strangely enough. He hold your hand so gently, barely cupping it in his.

You wish you could tell what he’s thinking. For all Kyle’s honest and kind nature, he’s hard to read. That perma-smirk hides a lot more than you think you or anyone else realizes.

“Alright. I’ll talk t’John about it.” He murmurs, withdrawing his hand.

“Yah. You better.” You grin, leaning back in your seat just as the food comes out.

#poly 141 #poly 141 x reader #kyle gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #cod #gaz x reader #tattoo au #call of duty #cod x reader #plus size reader #fat reader #fem reader #captain john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader

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suiana · 3 months ago

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yandere! priest and gn! succubus/incubus guys... omg...

he's a devoted little thing, so passionate to his religion and his god. his mind and heart are pure, never straying from his faith even when the most beautiful of people had thrown themselves at him.

and then you came stumbling right into his life.

you, a sex demon. all skimpy clothes, flirty and giving him bedroom eyes in a church. it was even worse that you had thrown yourself at him on your first meeting, clinging to his arm like some clingy lover.

"hey pretty boy~ wanna show me a good time?"

"the only good time i have is when I'm thinking of my god. do you want to join a sermon?"

maybe it was because he was so holy but he wasn't repulsed by you. flashing you a gentle smile as he allowed you to cling to him. oh, a sinner. how pitiful. it's no matter, if you repent enough and ask for forgiveness, he's sure that even god will accept you. he'll help you find the right path that is god. you've fallen right into his arms after all. it must be fate and perhaps he was meant to help you.

you don't quite share the same sentiment though.

you just wanna fuck that priest. his cute face, sweet little laughter... devil below you want that man. plus you hadn't fed in days... you're practically starving over here!

"come on... just some head? i bet your pretty mouth could be out to better use than some sermons."

"yes, a better use would be when I'm holding your hand and bringing you to the light of salvation."

he's always so calm and composed. all smiles and a calm demeanour that never exposes what he's feeling. even his eyes are smiling, damn. it's a bit scary that you can't accurately tell what he's feeling. the only thing you have is the slightly obsessive and unsettling darkness his eyes seem to contain. nah, can't be anything much. he's just a priest who wants to play hard to get.

it's infuriating, you think.

you continue to hold on a little longer. maybe he'll crack sooner or later? he's just a man after all... and you're a gorgeous thing meant for temptation... he'll give in right? right? you continue pestering him, clinging to his side as you ignore the horrified looks the other clerics and church goers give you as you beg for the monstrous dick you know he's packing.

but he doesn't show any signs of budging and you eventually try leaving because you're so starved that it hurts. like damn! you still need to feed! and if he's not gonna give it to you, you'll just find someone else!

however...

"where do you think you're doing?"

"huh? priesty boy? you following me?"

"yes."

"???"

you're confused as he practically rips you off of the random guy you picked off the street, dragging you back to the church with him. and all while he continued to smile at you like he always has. only this time, this smile harboured some... ill intent.

"oi at least tell me what you're doing-"

"i am going to punish you."

"punish?"

he stops in his tracks, turning to smile at you as hus grip around your wrist tightens painfully. you wince at the force he's using, desperately trying to tug your hand away. what the hell?

the priest doesn't let you. if anything, his grip only tightened even more. what's worse is that he's now punning you to the wall, caging you in as he stares down deep into your soul with his deep and unnerving eyes.

"yes, punish."

he continues to smile at you, simply caging you against the wall before his voice drops.

"it's the job of a priest to guide newcomers to repentance and i intend to do that with you. yet, you've almost committed an act of sin. i cannot allow that to pass, my dear."

what the- what is he doing?!

"you'll understand once I'm done with you. after all, the god above has personally given you to me as a mission and a gift."

he mumbles, leaning into your lips before his smile lowers into a creepy and unsettling smirk. bruh you might be a demon but this guy right here has got to be the devil's spawn or something. what is he yapping about? gift? mission? you just want some dick!

"hey I don't understand-"

"of course you don't. you're confused."

he cuts you off before you can say anything. his face way too close for comfort as you try sinking into the wall. um... you don't think you wanna play anymore...

"it's okay. I'll help you understand. I'll help you understand your true purpose and that is to repent and be born anew."

he pauses, tilting his head before his smile widens unnaturally.

"that way we can actually be together under the eyes of god. you want to copulate, yeah?"

huh? what's sex gotta do with this?

"after you've finally repented, I'll give you what you want. sex is an intimate and special thing between two people in love. don't worry, there'll be plenty of time for you to fall for me."

wait what?!

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere priest #yandere priest x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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azrielsrealmate · 3 months ago

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alcohol and pancakes

azriel x reader

summary: azriel was always devoted to you, but when drunk? He was clingy, touchy and devoted. And he wanted to take care of you even if his mind was spinning.

warnings: mentions of alcohol?

word count: 1.3k

this is a silly little thing because I’ve just read somewhere that Azriel gets clingy when drunk and oh my god that’s sooo cute 😭

Your touch on his cheek was like a soothing balm for a wound that throbbed and stung, with each languid and incredibly soft stroke easing the pain more and more. He let go, leaning into your touch.

Why did he always have to be the tough and unbreakable guy? He wasn’t that tough, nor unbreakable, he was just... himself. And your gentle caresses made him want to whimper. His honeyed eyes closed with a hum of satisfaction, and you laughed softly. Why was even your laugh soft? Azriel didn’t understand. Azriel didn’t want to understand.

“How much have you had to drink?” you asked, arching both eyebrows in pure tenderness.

It took Azriel several seconds to process the question, in reality, he had drunk quite a bit. But that didn’t diminish any of the things he wanted to do with you, which at the moment was nothing more than resting his face between your generous breasts. He nuzzled your palm, breathing in and pressing a soft kiss.

“Not too much.”

Liar. Lies. A shadow whispered in his ear, and Azriel nearly growled, brushing it aside and nuzzling your hand further.

“Ah, I see,” you murmured, entertained by the sight—a warrior nearly two meters tall, and a spy no less, clinging to you like a needy child craving affection. Your voice was drenched in amusement, dripping over him just enough to make him open his eyes slightly.

“I’m not that drunk.” He almost whined, his eyebrows furrowing, and you had to stifle another giggle. Not wanting to offend the oh-so-scary shadowsinger that was hovering over your body, laid across your marriage bed.

“I’m not that drunk,” Azriel repeated, this time with a firmer, almost defiant tone, though it wasn’t as firm or defiant as he intended, because you could see the tremor at the corner of his lip, trying not to smile like a fool upon seeing your own smile. He reminded you more of Nyx trying to convince you that he wasn’t sleepy at bedtime just to spend more time with you, than of the five-hundred-year-old spy that he was.

His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the night sky, were now clouded by a mixture of alcohol and a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show—a vulnerability that made you stroke his cheek once more.

“Azriel…” you whispered with a gentleness that only softened the normally sharp edges of his face further. You could see the freckles scattered across his nose, small and nearly invisible, like tiny constellations marking his skin. And the slight green ring in the center of his eyes, and a few strands of hair longer than the others.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you,” he said, burying his face in the crook of your neck, this time sounding more resolute, acceptably more resolute, as he breathed in your scent like it was a balm he desperately needed. The way his body, so big and strong, curled up against yours was a delightful paradox you couldn’t help but enjoy. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer. You felt the weight of his head on your shoulder, the brush of his dark hair against your cheek. “I can take care of you... always.”

A soft laugh, impossible to contain, escaped your lips. The irony of his words filled your chest with a playful warmth. “Really?” you teased, your hands caressing his back with the same slow indulgence of someone petting a spoiled kitten. Carefully avoiding his wings, so as not to turn clingy-drunk Azriel into horny-clingy-drunk Azriel. “Then, if you’re so capable, why don’t you go down to the kitchen and make me some dinner?” You were pretty sure he would wobble if he got up.

Azriel lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a determined light that almost made you regret your words. He could make you dinner—no, he should make it for you. You were his mate, and he had lost count of how many nights he had come home dazed with exhaustion only to find a warm dinner and loving arms.

Before you could react, he got up from the bed with the agility of a feline, the weight of his determination palpable in the air, your thoughts incredibly wrong; he didn’t wobble even once.

“Azriel, no—” you began, reaching for his arm as he headed toward the door. “It was a joke, I’ve already eaten, please don’t try to make me dinner when you’re in this state…”

He didn’t listen, or decided not to, moving through the room with that lethal grace so natural to him. You were forced to follow him as he made his way down the hallway and then down the stairs to the kitchen.

When you reached the kitchen, you made sure to turn on the lights because Azriel hadn’t bothered, given that he was already opening the cabinets, inspecting their contents with an intensity that almost made you worry.

“I’ll make you pancakes,” he announced, and you laughed, so much that your cheeks turned red.

“Pancakes?” you approached him, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Az, that’s not dinner.”

“It will be,” he said, determined, and his stubbornness brought another smile to your face. There was no stopping him now, so you resigned yourself to helping him.

He continued to inspect the cabinet contents, searching for something that he didn’t even have in mind. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle—he was so determined that he didn’t even seem lost.

“How about you start by getting the flour?” Azriel’s eyes lit up as if he finally remembered something. He grabbed the bag of flour. Then he looked back at the other contents in the cabinet, and you wanted to laugh again.

“The eggs and then the milk.” As he pulled out the ingredients with hands that were skilled but slightly shaky, you stayed close. He observed everything he had taken out, all placed on the counter, and then directed those hazel, clouded eyes at you, tentatively, in a silent question.

“That’s all we need.”

“Ah… I knew that.” He said as if trying to convince you of something.

“Of course you did, I wouldn’t doubt that my clever shadowsinger knew.” You were teasing him, but he didn’t even notice. Though you did notice the red that brushed his cheeks.

You handed him the bowl and the ingredients, watching with amusement as he measured and poured, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, which usually wielded weapons with deadly skill, now worked with adorable clumsiness to mix the ingredients. As he stirred, fearing that Azriel might spill too much of the mixture out of the bowl, you moved closer to help him, your hands gently falling over his, trying to guide him. Azriel froze for a second, and you knew almost instinctively that he was looking at the scars covering his hands, so different from the softness of yours. You offered him a warm smile, quickly making him forget about it.

The warmth of the kitchen was comforting, but not as much as the warmth radiating from his body next to yours. That warrior who could bring down armies was now focused on making pancake batter with the same seriousness he would approach any crucial task. And though pancakes weren’t a conventional dinner, you knew that the dedication he was putting into them made them more special than any banquet.

“Is this good?” he murmured, turning his face toward you, and for a moment, his honeyed eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” you replied softly, allowing yourself a small moment of respite in his closeness, enjoying the tenderness hidden behind that façade of hardness.

Azriel nodded, satisfied, before turning toward the pan that was already starting to heat. And as he poured the mixture, you couldn’t help but admire him, so determined and so devoted. All for you. All yours.

#a court of thrones and roses #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x you #azriel x female!reader #azriel x yn #azriel x y/n

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kakitetan · 3 months ago

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Sebastian Solace x GN! Reader | Daily Life AU | Sleeping

Ever since you were released, you were forced to take Sebastian in, you have no idea if Urbanshade even knew, since it was upon Sebastian's request. Or more like demand…

You were watching TV in the living room, you lived alone with Sebastian now. The house wasn't normally this quiet, the silence occasionally interrupted by Sebastian banging into something with his large body. You paused the show you were watching and got up. The silence was eating at you, and he was nowhere to be found.

You walk over to his room, knocking.

"Sebastian? It's me, I'm coming in." You spoke, walking into the room.

His TV was on, with Painters' face flickering on the screen.

"Oh, hey Painter. Have you seen Sebastian?" You asked, your next question was going to be why Painter was even here. Advanced AI is scary…

"Does it look like I've seen him Y/N? He's your responsibility!" He remarked, before turning the TV off in a huff.

You blinked and looked around the room. You made your way to the window, looking around for Sebastian. It was odd, a grown-ass man was your responsibility. Besides, he knew better than to go outside without your permission. You leaned against the window, at times… The mission still bothered you. It's how you and Sebastian met, and even now while living together, he tries his hardest to avoid talking about his past and being human. But you can tell it bothered him too.

From the way he'd look at you when you asked about his document, to the way he tried to hide his voice crack when he ate soup for the first time in god who knows how long.

You knew it still bothered him, no matter how much he yelled at you for simple things, or when he made snarky remarks to hide behind that bitchy exterior.

Yet oddly enough, you were grateful. Without that experience, you wouldn't have met him, so it's not for nothing. You blinked, snapping out of your thoughts. You scanned the outside, Sebastian wasn't anywhere to be seen. You turned away from his window, walking out the door. You walked down the hallway, the bathroom door was open. He wasn't in there either. The last room was your room…

You were hesitant, you drew near the door. The potent smell of fish hit your senses.

"Sebastian, it smells in… Here.." Your voice trailed off, seeing the man curled up on your bed.

Thoughts flooded your mind, on one hand, it was charming. On the other hand, your room was going to smell…

You silently took out your phone, snapping a picture of the cute sight in silence. You were in the middle of putting your phone back into your pocket when you heard the bed creak. You snapped your head to the source of the noise when your bed snapped and collapsed onto the floor. His weight was too much!

He woke up immediately, snapping up. He looked at you and glared. "What are YOU looking at?!"

You knew he knew that Sebastian had broken the bed. His cheeks were flushed in a dark blue hue. You blinked, before smiling.

"Nothing, go back to sleep. Sorry for interrupting you." You spoke, before leaving the room.

Authors Notes! Hi! This is my first fanfic I've ever written, I intended on it being longer, since I just enjoy long fanfics as a reader, but it was sortaaa hard to make this one long. My writing may come off as odd, I don't intend for that to be a bad thing. I allow criticism too, since I want to improve. I hope this is still a good read! This was just an idea I had in my head for a while, I plan on making it a series, if anyone even wants that. Anyways, enjoy this mess, ahahaha!

#sebastian solace #sebastian solace x reader #sebastian x reader #roblox #pressure #roblox pressure #roblox x reader #x reader #reader insert #sebastian #i dont know what other tags to put here sorry

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hoshigray · 1 year ago

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Alright, y'all, here's the plan: you're not quite aware of what Toji does for work, yet you keep quiet. But one night, the man comes home bleeding, and you can't keep your worries to yourself anymore. However, for your protection, Toji isn't ready to reveal his assassin business to you. And, in the heat of the moment, ends up saying something that hurts you instead...

A/n: (Reuploaded bc I forgot smthn) This prompt was picked from a poll to celebrate the 300+ followers milestone (pssst tysm for 450+ you lovelies :D) two weeks back. Truthfully, I don't think this is my best work after proofreading, but I did my best. Probably bc 1) it's longer than I intended, and 2) I procrastinated waaaaay too much with this. I don't even think I made sense halfway through, lol, but fuck it, we ball. Anyways, like last time, there is art drawn by me (@hoshigaby) but it'll be found deep in the fic :33

I hope you enjoy the ride and reblogs + replies are much appreciated!! Also, don't be alarmed that Y/n in the drawing looks of a dark complexion, feel free to use your imagination if it doesn't suit you. But do not edit it; be an adult and ignore it if it's not your taste.

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - arguing/yelling - fingering (fem! receiving) - mating press - Daddy kink - first Toji is sour, then he's sweet bc he's whipped for you :) - clitoral play (pressing down and a pinch) - praise - breast fondling + nipple play - pet names (angel, baby, darlin', honey, kid, mama/ma, princess, sweetheart/sweetie) - Megumi mean-mugging his father while Tsumiki and Shiu Kong tell him to do better lol - mentions of blood and stab wound; isn't fully healed so reopens.

Wc: 5.8k

"Uhh, are you sleeping on the couch?"

"Yes. Yes, I am."

"...Why??"

You scrunch your brow at your phone, looking at the two people you're talking to through the screen. "I know you're not about to get on my case over where I'm sleeping."

On the L-shaped couch lay you, cuddled up with a fluffy blanket and memory foam pillow, one hand holding your phone while another wrapped around a stuffed plushy. You were on a video call with your best friends: Utahime and Mei Mei.

Utahime, lying on her bed with a face mask, replied to you. "Oh, I'm definitely getting on your case because it's supposed to be the other way around!"

"True, but I like the couch anyways." You puff at the woman who's not satisfied with your answer. "Plus, I'm on the L-part of the couch, so it's practically like a bed!"

Your other friend, Mei Mei, chuckles at her screen. Icy blue hair pulled up in a bun with reading glasses positioned atop her forehead, probably counting her tips on her desk like she always does before bed. "My my, this is the fourth night this week. What did your man say to make you this upset?"

Memories of what happened before come back to you, and so does the exhausting irritation you've been trying to keep at bay.

It was a quiet night like this one as the rain fell hard on the silent streets. You've just put Tsumiki and Megumi to sleep and waited in the living room, watching a movie to pass the time. It was pretty late into the night when you heard the door open as drowsiness settled in. Nevertheless, you got up to greet the man you'd been waiting for coming from the entrance, but you weren't prepared for the sight that instantly woke you up.

Toji Fushiguro, groaning and leaning against the wall with his black jean jacket drenched from the rain. A hand was clenched on the left side of his torso, deep red tarnishing his plain white shirt. He was heaving in an attempt to even his breathing, but when he caught a glimpse of you standing before him, he was quick to try and play it off with a worn-out grin. "Hey, baby." His familiar deep voice was strained in subtle agony.

Worry bubbles within, and you rush towards him. "Oh my God, Toji, what happened!?" You remind yourself to not be too loud as the children are still asleep, so you rely on whisper yellings while walking him up to your shared bedroom.

Even in the room, Toji doesn't explain himself. Just silent hushes and cajoles that he's alright. "I'm fine, honey. Just tell me where's the first aid box." Pointing at the bathroom cabinet, you watch him leave your side to grab the kit. The crimson spilling from him is caused by a stab wound he reveals when he sits on the bathtub, lifting his shirt. You can feel your eyes water, imagining the pain he's going through when he hisses from putting on rubbing alcohol on the gash.

The words you want to say feel so forbidden. Your fingers fidget amongst themselves with the irregular beat of your chest. Don't say it, Y/n. Keep your mouth shut. Don't—

"Is this from work?"

Green eyes shoot back in your direction, and you immediately feel yourself sinking into a pool of regret.

Talk of Toji's occupation wasn't something you brought up much. Even at the beginning of your relationship, he didn't indulge in any insights about what he does, so you eventually quit after a few failed attempts. However, with all the nights he's come home while you sleep or the new scars you point out yet are brushed off, your anxiousness for him keeps festering. And seeing him with his own blood on his hands made you wonder how many nights he has pulled off doing such without your knowledge.

Toji's eyes go back to his wound. "Don't worry 'bout it." The stern tone of his voice has your blood turn cold. He didn't want to entertain this, especially in the wee hours of the night.

And yet you still persist. "No, Toji, I'm serious." You can see him glare at you through the raven bangs shading his forehead. A warning. But it doesn't stop you. "I'm getting worried about you."

From there was when the argument came. Every point you've made to him was shut down at once. His cold responses pierced you. Usually, you'd do what you can to avoid this type of confrontation. But now, it hurts even more when he doesn't cooperate with you, your concerns disregarded like rubbish.

"Damn it, Y/n!" Toji barks at you, seething through the physical pain as a fist bangs hard on the bathroom cabinet. "Why's it so hard for you to stay out of this?"

"Well, if you would tell me things instead of pushing me out the way, then maybe I wouldn't have to!" At this point, you're fighting the tears from falling. Your face hot with frustration, but you still speak. "Toji, I've done so much for you and the kids, and I—"

"No one told you to do—"

"Yet I STILL do!" It's your turn to yell. "I care about you deeply, same with Tsumiki and Megumi. I don't ask for much, Toji. But I want you to open your life to me just a little, even when you're hurt like this!"

His emerald eyes remain rigid despite your pleas to him. And what he said next had you still to the core. You can recall the beat of your heart corrupting your senses while the tears stride down.

"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."

"He said WHAT!!??" Utahime shrieks after you retell the situation to your friends.

You nod your head. "I just looked at him, and he looked at me. Then I turned, picked my pillow up, and headed downstairs to this couch."

To say the dark-haired woman was livid was an understatement. "And tell me WHY this fucker isn't the one sleeping on this couch, again??"

"Even if I did tell him to sleep on the couch, he probably would say something like, 'Tch, why should I? I pay bills for this damn house,' and yadda, yadda." This is true, apart from the man being injured, so having him move would've been immoral. "Plus, I just really wanted to get outta the room, so I went ahead and moved myself out."

"So? You pay bills too, what the hell!? Good God, Y/n," Utahime shakes her head. "You sure we can't pummel this dude?"

"Yes, I'm sure. Besides, I'm getting used to ignoring him when I see him around the house. But, oh my God, guys, his kids," the phone panned down to the plush toy and the pink, fluffy blanket. "Miki saw me sleeping here the other morning and gave me this blanket. And Gumi — he's such a sweetie. He gave me his favorite froggy toy to sleep with to scare off his dad from 'bothering me in my dreams.' "

"Hmm, how adorable." Mei Mei comments. "Funny how such darlings can come from a guy like that."

Utahime nods rapidly and throws in her opinion. "Listen, Y/n, you shouldn't think you outta be in every part of that man's life. Even so, he should at least know how to compromise. I mean, come on, you take care of him, the kids, the house, and go to work with us. All of that just for you to sleep on a couch!?"

"You're not gonna let this couch thing go, aren't you?" The pale blue-haired woman chuckles again, and Utahime sighs. "But she's right, Y/n. It takes a certain kind of person to have the patience to do what you do in a relationship with a single father and two children. I'm sure Utahime would've left with all her hair out."

The dark-haired one gets up from her bed and takes her device with her, heading to the bathroom to finish her skin care. "Now, why am I the one used as an example?"

"Because you're the most vocal about a relationship that isn't yours." A sly smile is painted on Mei Mei's face after she hears a 'hmph!' from the other as Utahime removes the mask and washes her face. "My point is that you like this man — love him even. But that love shouldn't cost you to be so emotionally drained. Perhaps he understands this, except it wasn't the perfect moment for you two to express yourselves. Maybe talk to him when you two stop the silent treatment."

All you do is hum aimlessly, too wrapped in what your friend said to give a proper response. Then you yawn, your body signaling you to finally rest. "I'll sleep on that thought. Night, girlies~~" You wave and send kisses to the other two. They do the same as you leave the video call, placing the phone on the coffee table and snuggling up with the blanket and plush toy.

You try to distract yourself by thinking of what you'll do tomorrow. You gotta get up and make breakfast for Tsumiki and Megumi before waking them up, then head to the station and take the bus to work. Maybe you can finally try that new café close by with Mei Mei and Utahime for lunch. And when you return home, you should whip up something fun for the kids to eat.

Perhaps, make something for Toji since he sometimes forgets to feed himself when you're not around. Or if he's leaving for work, wish him a safe trip back home like always. And...if he's down for it...you can find the right time......to talk...about......

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The moment you closed your eyes, it felt as though you were sleeping on your own bed again. When you turn to your side, your body descends into the feeling of cold sheets beneath you. It was pretty comfy! Plus, the blanket—

Wait...Sheets?

Your eyes slowly open to the sight of bedsheets underneath you. Navigating out of the sleepy stupor, you make out parts of your surroundings to know that you're not in the living room anymore. You slowly rise up to face the door of the bedroom. Your shared bedroom.

A sudden cough alerts you, forced as if to grab your attention. A chill crawls up your spine. Oh God, no. You turn to the side to see the man accompanying his side of the bed. And there he was, Toji, lying on his side with his head resting on a hand, looking dead at you. His raven hair looked damp from a recent shower, sporting only a grey wifebeater and dark sweatpants.

"Hey," is all he says to you. No smirk and no nickname followed with the greeting. Just a simple address to you with his green eyes softly watching yours. You almost fall into their inviting spell the more you look at them.

Nonetheless, it's not compelling enough since you remember he's the man you fought with four days ago — the same man you weren't prepared to see right now. You quickly turn away from him and lift the comforter to exit the room. However, Toji grabbed your wrist before your feet could touch the floor, his grip too strong for you to pull away from him.

You avoid eye contact with him, your back facing him. "Toji, let me go. I'm going to sleep."

"Then sleep."

"On the couch, Toji." You try and pull again. Nothing.

"Fuck that, just sleep here. I didn't carry you up here for nothin'."

You shake your head as you exhale through your nose. Of course, he carried me here. "Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"

The words that left your lips surprised you and the grip around your wrist tightens. You didn't mean to say them, but it was the truth because they were his own words. Or did you?

Still facing away from Toji, you're unable to see his reaction. Oh shit, is he angry? Is he going to let me go after that?

"Darlin', please..." His deep voice hushed for only you to hear. "I just really need you with me here. Just for tonight...." His hold lessens, leaving you to decide whether you should stay.

The silence is uncomfortable for both of you — especially for Toji, who has you where he wants you to be, where you're supposed to be. As seconds pass when he doesn't hear from you, the nervousness that used to exist before your relationship rises back into the pit of his stomach. And his soul drops down when you remove your wrist from his hand.

Though, to his surprise, your hand lifts the comforter up while your legs move back on top of the mattress. You lay back down with a sigh, your back still facing Toji. "Did you give Miki back her blanket?"

Toji exhales quietly, situating himself back on his side of the bed. "Yeah, and Megumi with his toy."

You hum, and the silence fills the room once more.

Toji looks at nothing but your figure next to him, watching the rise and fall of your shoulder as you breathe silently, your face nestled comfortably on the pillow. To think it's been half a week since he last saw you in this room is hard to believe.

That night when you left him really stuck with him. The image of your face covered in tears was all he envisioned, the same with you grabbing your pillow and exiting the room. After tending his stab wound, he went down to talk it out. Yet when Toji saw you sleeping soundly on the couch with dried tears painting your pretty face, he didn't dare wake you up and just went to bed.

And it was worse the following days. Not only did he have you avoiding him at every chance, but he had to deal with the judgmental looks of his children. Never in his life has he seen Megumi give him glares that meant business. If looks could kill, Toji would be finished. And Tsumiki, his sweet little girl, now pesters him about being nice to Y/n, saying he should think about their feelings and apologize.

But what about his feelings? Does no one understand that he was just trying to keep you out of business that you didn't need to fret over? He's very aware that his job is not a normal one. It's dangerous, and anyone around him can get hurt or worse. Hence, keeping you away from this part of his life keeps you and his family safe. If not knowing he's an assassin keeps you from harm's way, why change that.

At least...that's what he thought, not what he said.

Even Shiu Kong, his handler, had something to say after telling him what had happened during lunch today. "Wow. I knew you were trash, but I didn't know you were that dumb, too." The man snickers when Toji shoves a middle finger his way. Shiu lights another cigarette after discarding the one he finishes. "Well, how were they supposed to know you were watching out for them? If someone you love comes to your front door bloody and sick, whose safety are you worrying about?"

Toji says nothing to that, letting the other man resume speaking some sense into him after taking a long sig from his cigarette.

"Look. I can't promise that this angel of yours wants to stay with you after what you said. That's all up to them. But until they decide that, I hope your dumbass realizes when someone sticks with you literally through blood and pain, that's someone who cares for you to the Moon and back. Not saying you should tell them what you do, but a nice word or two of comfort is all they need. If you're not that big of an idiot, reconcile and let them know you care about them."

"...Reconcile and let them know you care about them..."

If there's one thing that Toji has trouble with, it's knowing how to use his words. It was a tiny problem in the earlier stages of your relationship, but as time flew, you could guess how much the tall man cherishes you by his actions rather than words.

The older man knows that you know he loves you. But now, when he's pushed into a position where words are necessary to portray his real feelings for you, he feels stumped.

"If you were goin' to be a thorn on my side like this, I wouldn't have let you be in it in the first place."

Toji grimaces at his own words replaying in his head. Why the fuck did I say that?

"Whatever happened to you not wanting me to be a part of your life?"

Your words ring in his mind. Why did I fuckin' say that for? What the hell is wrong with me? What did—

"Toji?"

He returns to reality, eyes moving back to your still silhouette.

"I know you're still awake, so I'm gonna ask this." Toji braces himself for whatever your soft voice muttered. "Whatever job you're doing, is it a dangerous one?"

Shit. The dreaded talk is here, and Toji cannot escape it.

"Yeah."

"Are you good at your job?"

"It's the only thing I'm good at."

You nod your head aimlessly to his answer. Then you turn around to face the anxious older man. The moonlight peaking through the window blinds illuminates your face beautifully while Toji's breathing slows.

"I don't think that's true," you continue to answer. "You're good at being a father to Tsumiki and Megumi. Not the best, but a decent one nonetheless. You're also good at caring for me; letting me live with you and your family proves that. And lastly," Toji gulps with a dry throat.

"You're good at loving. You say you're lousy at it, but there's love in everything you do for me. It's there when you look at me whenever you think I'm unaware. Or when you silently grab my hand when in crowded areas. Or," a small chuckle exits from you. "When you carry me up from downstairs to the bedroom."

Toji's jade eyes lock in with yours, waiting for you to avert your gaze away from him. But you don't. You keep looking at him. You keep spoiling him. This type of recognition is something Toji never thought he deserved, so you giving it to him so effortlessly makes his growing guilt eat him alive.

"I care about you so much, Toji." You shift closer to Toji and bring a hand to his cheek, causing the man to lift his brows. Your face is only a few inches away from his. "What happened yesterday really scared me. All I could think about was the wound and all the scars you have. Where they all came from and how deep they are. Or......you never coming back."

"Baby..." Toji absently refers to you with a sweet name, placing his big hand on top of yours on his cheek. He lets you finish.

"I know you can't guarantee coming back to me unscathed, but I just want you to promise me something: please let me know you'll be okay. When you're gone, I can only hope you make it back home safely. So, just promise to not get yourself killed." A sheepish smile is used to ease the serious tone. "Even if I'm not in your life, I'm sure Tsumiki and Megumi would be pretty upset to not have you around."

Toji scoffs. "Trust me, I'm sure they'd leave me the moment you step out the door." That makes you laugh, and it has the man swooning hearing it. His hand moves to your cheek, and you allow him to stroke it with a thumb. "And I wouldn't blame 'em. Havin' such a beautiful and loving angel slip through my fingers?"

"Toji..."

"I'm sorry for what I said and scarin' you like that. If you aren't here with me, as part of my life and all, then I don't think I can't make a promise like that. You're too good fr' me, and I'm sorry if I didn't seem to appreciate you until now."

And you know he's genuine with his plea, his green eyes gauging your reaction to see if he's worth another chance. All you do is sigh and lift yourself up, wipe his wet bangs from his forehead, and kiss it. "Not the best apology, but I accept it."

He drones, relishing the feeling of your lips on him again. "So, are we cool, kid?"

"Yeah," you peer down at him with a smile, and he does the same. "We're cool. However, if you ever yell at me again, don't be surprised when I pack my bags."

"Oh yeah?" Toji raises a brow. "I'll be careful, then."

"You better." Hushed chuckles are shared to comfort the silence, enjoying the closeness between you two that felt like forever to have again. Just the two of you with you giggling above him and the light from the window cascading an ethereal glow to your features. Your teeth shied behind pretty lips, lips he wanted to kiss.

And you catch him looking. You notice him wanting you, needing you. Just as much as you need him. You slowly lean down to his face, planting your soft lips on his rigid pair.

Toji's surprised by the action for a moment, but he moans into your mouth and pulls you into him closer. The kiss starts off nice and slow yet quickly changes to one filled with passion and desire. Teeth clashing, tongues exchanging, sweet moans paired with aroused groans.

As you two are lost in each other's lips, Toji carefully maneuvers you on your back with him on top of you. Your legs find purchase around his waist as he rocks into your core, rocking your hips together in a steady rhythm by the second.

His hand snakes down to your lower region, fingers brushing past your pajamas and onto your panty-covered vulva. The intrusion has you breaking the kiss with heavy breaths filling the silent, moonlit room. He busses your chin down to your neck as shaky mewls slip out your mouth.

"Haaah, Toji, we shouldn't. It's late—Hmmm..." Your whimpers don't stop him from pulling your pajamas and undergarments off.

"It's okay, sweetheart, lemme make it up to you." He says in-between kisses on your clavicle, pulling up your shirt to reveal your bare chest. His free hand fondles a breast before his mouth goes for the other. "Let Daddy take care of you..."

The sudden combination of his thick fingers intruding between your nether folds and his mouth sucking and licking your sensitive nipple has you whining in bliss, your hand gripping his wet raven hair resulting in a satisfied groan from the older man. Toji missed this — missed you — close to him, under him on this bed.

One finger plays with your wet chasm for a few moments before it's inserted inside. A shriek is let out as your cunt adjusts to the digit. "Mmmph! Oh God, Daddy, your fingers...Ahhh!"

A soft 'pop' leaves from Toji's mouth when pulled back from sucking on your nipple, his tongue lapping around the sensitive nob. "What's that, mama? My fingers feelin' good?" You nod rapidly, but that's not the answer Toji's looking for, so he bites on your nipple gingerly yet hard enough for you to jolt. "Daddy wants your words, angel."

"Yesss, yes, your fingers feel soo good," You mewl to him, and Toji chuckles dangerously low while rewarding you with another digit in your slick-coated hole. His abrupt middle finger joins his forefinger in attacking your velvety walls, and your voice shifts higher in ecstasy.

The sounds of Toji's tongue licking around your nipple coincide with the squelches between his fingers and your gushy slit. Your brain starts to short-circuit.

"Ahh! Ahhh! Daddy, I can feel—I'm gonna," Toji's fingers pick up the pace. You're so close to release, you can feel it.

"Gonna be good and cum on Daddy's fingers, right, baby?"

"Mhmmm, I wanna co—Oh, Jesus, I wanna come. Hoooooh..."

"Then go ahead, princess. Mess 'em up." Toji comes up to kiss your forehead as his fingers go irrationally fast, and a thumb sneaks to press down on your unattended clit. With a choked cry, you spasm and cream on his thick digits. He watches you finish, loving the image of your head pushed back on pillows and your body arching towards him.

He dismisses himself from you once you're done, licking his fingers of your essence and taking off his wifebeater and pants. The image of his free cock has you biting your lower lip in anticipation as you discard your shirt to the bedroom floor as well. When you look at Toji, you notice the bandaged patch on his left side. He sees you glimpsing, quick to ease your concerns. "I'll be fine, darlin'. Won't go too crazy." Looking at his scarred body in a new light, you nod and follow his lead.

Toji carries your legs up to move to the right of his shoulder, situating you two into a mating press. His dick aligns with your glossy cunt. Precum meets slick and lubricates the two sexes pushing into each other. Toji coaxes you. "Too tense, ma. Relax fr' me." You prepare yourself with even breaths, and the man pushes into you with each exhale.

The head of his cock enters, a cry departs from your lips, and Toji hisses with the tightness of your slit. His hips go slow, making sure your walls accommodate every vein and dent of his dick as it ventures deep within you. Hits to your G-spot have you babbling incoherent prayers, gripping the sheets under you.

When his cockhead finally meets your cervix, you sob his name in rapture. Toji smirks, dialing the pace of his thrusts up. "Mmmm, Christ, yr' tight pussy. So fuckin' perfect fr' me."

Every stroke prompts a euphoric moan from you, drool escaping your lips as your mind turns into putty. The noises of his pelvis smacking on your ass feel so wrong to hear, yet you can't help but grip around Toji's girthy length. It gets worse when he presses his entire body weight on you, forcing you to take his cock and abusing your tender cervix with every deep rut.

As for Toji, he's enjoying seeing you writhe and pant under his bow. The corner of your eyes sprinkled with tears, your mouth wailing in euphoric chants, the way your cunt clamps around his dick when he grinds his hips deep onto your come-covered folds. He can never get enough of this, enough of you, driving him so fucking crazy.

"Daddyyy, I'm gonna—Ahhaaaa!!" Toji's now going at an erratic cadence, his cock churning your insides as his heavy balls slapping your folds being the only things you can listen to. Your whines get higher and higher while chasing your climax. "Cu-cumming, I'm gonna cumm—Ohhh!!"

"Hnngh! Oh, shit, fuck, fuck. Me too, kid, me too," Toji groans into your ear. God, his deep voice makes your brain mush. "Oooooh, want me to fill you up, mama?"

Your head nods frantically, tears now staining your face. "Yessss, please, Daddy!! I want it!" Toji hears your pleas and smashes his mouth into yours, moans swapped between lips with tongues daubed in saliva. A hand is moved down to your clit, pinching the spot between Toji's forefinger and thumb. And your pussy tightens around his cock one last time before you peak onto him.

The fluttery spasms of your walls clenching around Toji have him finish in three deep strokes, spurting his seed inside you before he relaxes his heaving body on yours. The kiss breaks with you two huffing and panting, the final moments of your high finally depleting out of your nude bodies.

His green eyes take in your dazed expression, calloused fingers wiping your tears away. "How's that for an apology?"

"You pervy old man," You chuckle to yourself, so out of breath. "You're more of a man of action anyway, so you pulled through. "

"Hehe, I'll take it." He cups your jaw with his big hand, your eyes locked in with his. "I love you so fuckin' much, baby. Sorry for ever making you think otherwise."

You blink once. Twice. Your hands come up to his face, and a finger swipes away black bangs stuck to his sweaty forehead. "I love you too, Toji. I would've left your ass if you weren't."

Toji smiles and leans in to kiss your swollen lips with his scared ones; however, a sharp pain stops him, prompting the big man to yell out. Worried, you try to assess what's wrong. Then you see it: the blood-stained bandage on his left side.

A gasp catches his attention, and Toji turns to what you're gawking at. His body freezes, seeing the trail of blood exit from his reopened wound.

"Ahhhh shit..."

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

"Well, well, well," Utahime smirks at you through the screen. "I see you're not on the couch anymore."

You smile sheepishly as you lie on the pillows and headboard of your shared bed. Tsumiki and Megumi huddle beside you, napping blissfully around your presence under Tsumiki's pink blanket.

"Yeah, we made up last night." To avoid disturbing the children, you reply in whispers.

Mei Mei hums. "I see that. I assume you two had a nice talk about it?" You open your mouth, but no words come out. The two women quirk up a brow.

"Oh? I take it that there was more than just talking." Utahime chimes in, her smile going ear to ear while your eyes avoid the screen. "No wonder we didn't see you at work today. The dick so good it saved your relationship, huh?" She laughs at you hushing her up for using crude language while the children sleep. "Well, happy you two figured it out. But don't think I won't come over there and beat his ass the next time I see you on that couch."

"I second that," Mei Mei agrees. "But Uta can do the beatdown; I'm more interested in what he has in his wallet."

"Not much, I'll tell you that." you correct your friend. "I'm the one who takes care of his finances for safe-keeping."

"Well, that makes things easier for me."

The three of you laugh through your devices. Then you hear heavy footsteps drawing closer from the stairs. "Oop, he's back now. I'll talk to you guys later!" You hurriedly wave and kiss your friends goodbye before ending the video call. The bedroom door opens, and there he is.

Toji flashes a quick smile at you before it vanishes once he sees his kids nestled around you. "I was hopin' to get some alone time with you."

You giggle as you brush Tsumik's hair away from her pretty face. "You're back early. Is your wound okay now?"

"Hmph, yeah, thanks to you pushin' me out the way and grabbin' for the first aid kit." Toji pokes fun at you for the event from last night, where you immediately pushed the brawny man off of you and ran for the tools necessary to treat his open injury the moment you saw blood. You chuckle and watch the tall man climb into bed. "Doc said it should fully heal within a week or two. Why the squirts here?"

"They were happy to find me back in the room for a nap, so they joined me and kept me company." Megumi snuggles close to you for warmth, and you pick him up to your chest.

"Well, they're takin' my spot."

"I don't think they care."

Toji pinches your nose for your snarky remark, and you wriggle out of his fingers with quiet chuckles. His hand then cups your face and pulls you to face him, his emerald eyes softly gazing into you.

"You know I love the hell outta you, right?" His deep voice sounds sweet to the ears. You purr into his hand. "And I hope you know I'm the same for you." He nods. You smile.

He hesitates for a split second, but Toji leans close to kiss your tender lips. Only for a tiny hand to come smacking him in the face, halting him from further movement. To the shock of you both, Megumi was back awake, sending a mean look at his father.

Toji groans in annoyance. "What was that for, brat?"

"For making Y/n sad." Megumi keeps his hold on you secure as he and Toji mean-mug each other. Queuing Tsumiki from her slumber, defending you from her father. "Apologize or stay away!" The little girl warns the older man.

You're quick to break up the mini-fight amongst the Fushiguros. "Alright, kids, no need to worry about me. Your dad already apologized to me by promising to take us out for dinner tonight." Childish faces beam in delight while Toji shifts to instant puzzlement. "Now go get ready and put on your shoes!" Tsumiki and Megumi do just that, rushing out of your shared room and to their own.

When you can't hear the pitter-patter of little feet anymore, you feel big strong arms haul you into Toji's embrace, attacking you with tickles. You try to squirm your way out, but it's no use when he uses his body to cage you in. "Who told you to make promises on my name, huh? You tryna be bratty with me, kid?" He grins at your ticklish suffering.

"Then don't you—Oh God, stop!" It's difficult finishing your statement while fighting back laughter and screams. "Don't you ever yell at me again!"

He stops tickling you, thank God. You catch your breath as Toji looks at you under him with a proud smile. "I don't plan on it, sweetie. Now c'mere."

Toji finally has his lips placed on your soft ones, and you happily return the favor by wrapping your arms around his neck to pepper him with delicate kisses. But the romantic atmosphere vanishes when the children come and dogpile on Toji after hearing your ticklish screams, forcing the older Fushiguro off of you to deal with his kids with tickles of their own.

Observing the children laugh and squirm under Toji's merciless fingers, a soft smile adorns your face watching the domestic display before you and thinking how lucky you are to witness such a thing. Well, that's before all three of them turn to you and bring you another ticklish horror.

And despite the torture, your screams and giggles are filled with pure joy and contentment, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

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l0nelyish · 4 months ago

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It‘s about that sandwich!

natasha romanoff x fem!reader

prompt: where you just can’t help but stun Natasha… and maybe get on her nerves? she doesn’t know which one it is.

nothin but pure fluff and nat being pouty af

lil bit of grumpy nat x sunshine reader if you squint.

3rd pov

„That‘s it.“, Wanda turned around, confused. Witnessing Natasha angry, sure thing. Witnessing her confused? never.

“What’s the matter with you, everything alright?”

Natasha huffed, pouting almost childlike. It’s so not like her to seem this openly frustrated, but she couldn’t care less. “Do I seem alright to you? No. This is the fifth time this month she’s been emptying one of the pbj ingredients before i could make one for myself.”, she dragged her eyes across the room, almost analyzing as in ‘hide and seek’. Where could you have been? And why do you have to steal ‘her’ ingredients? Natasha was bothered by you, yes. Extremely.

Wanda took another look at Natasha and chuckled: “Damn, does a peanut butter and jelly sandwich really have that much value to THE black widow? Oh my Lord.”

Natasha almost wanted to hit Wanda in the head with her slices of bread. It was really tempting, she had to admit. The witch shot her a knowing look, most likely hearing her thoughts. Again, the Russian woman huffed. Her temper was really not her strongest suit. Especially not after provoking it.

“It has a decent amount of value, thank you. What do you want me to say? ‘Oh my God! I can’t live without a pbj sandwich! Help me!’ ?”, Natasha shot her a glare, sarcasm being her best suited form of selfdefense. She truly is a witty woman.

On the other side of the kitchen aisle, Wanda tried her best not to fall into a laughing fit. Never has she ever seen Natasha this distressed, this fuzzy. And then, after really considering who they were discussing, she sent her friend a knowing smirk:

“Are you really this cranky about two bread slices or is it because of your ‘definitely not crush’ ?”

Natasha stared at her, eyes blown in shock: she got caught. Again. She usually wouldn’t let someone else read her this easily, but since this is you they’re talking about, and it’s Wanda she’s talking to, there really is no reason to facade it. Still, she tries to deny: “I told you a hundred times, I don’t like her! I can’t even stand her. I mean, she empties the food. What am I supposed to eat now?” So wrong. Even Natasha knows her whole act of trying to hate and blame you for everything is not working and it’s just her best shot at ignoring the rising feelings she’s got for you. But could anybody blame her, really? When you were this excited, extremely beautiful, empathetic and shiny human being?

You entered the kitchen, unaware of the ongoing dispute. Hot on your heels, you scanned the room and reacted to Natashas last sentence: “Did Steve forget the groceries? Are you hungry?”

And just like that, after merely 5 seconds, Natasha dreaded holding a grudge. Her whole demeanor snapped (no pun intended) and her eyes gazed almost neutrally into your warm gaze: “Someone emptied the whole peanut butter jar. And now I can’t make my dinner.”

Surprisingly, you sent her a goofy smile: “Oh! That must have been me, I’m extremely sorry, Tasha. I do have another half of my pbj sandwich left though, I was about to refrigerate it.”, you held up your plate. She gave it a look and panicked internally: were you really about to share your meal? As if gathering her freight, you again sent her a toothy smile and handed her the leftover half. “Enjoy!”, was all you stated, leaving both women standing around the kitchen isle. Plus the pbj sandwich, which Natasha stared at for longer than necessary. The corners of her mouth started to form a smile, which after some contemplation she insisted on not following through.

Wanda, who encountered the whole interaction, had a huge smirk on her face.

Natasha on the other hand, without having to look at her friends face, mentally face palmed herself for always getting so stuck up around you.

“Don’t.”

“I didn’t say anything… but enjoy your meal.”, with that, Wanda left a flushed Natasha stood in the compound’s kitchen.

The widow took another look at your, no her, plate. And after a year, she still can’t wrap her head around it:

What was she going to do about you?

#natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x female #the avengers #marvel #fanfic #sapphic #fluff #wanda maximoff

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susiephone · 2 years ago

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wtf is dracula daily?

i’ve seen a couple people ask this question on my posts about it, so i thought i’d go ahead and clear it up here!

ok so, the classic horror novel “dracula” is an epistolary novel - that means it’s told via letters, diary entries, ship logs, and news articles. (technically the term “epistolary novel” refers to works told solely through letters or emails, but many have expanded it to mean any work that is told via in-universe documents, hence why diaries and logs often get included as well. “frankenstein” is another classic example; the whole framing device is robert walton is recounting the story he heard from victor to his sister via letter. a modern example would be “several people are typing,” which is told via slack messages, or “the perks of being a wallflower,” which is told via letters from charlie to his anonymous pen pal, which is functionally more like you’re reading his diary.)

because of the nature of the narrative, we actually know the exact day nearly everything in dracula happens - the letters, news articles, diary entries, etc. are all dated.

“dracula daily” is a substack project where the novel is broken up into parts, with people who are subscribed to the project getting emails every day something in dracula happens - for example, the novel opens with jonathan harker’s journal entry on may 3, so on may 3, subscribers are emailed that entry. the action of dracula takes place from may 3 - november 6, plus an epilogue set some years later. the project started in 2021 (i think), but fucking BLEW UP in 2022, and they’re doing it again this year! lots of us are very excited - especially people like me who fell behind last time.

why not just read the book?

valid! due to some parts of dracula being told out of chronological order, dracula daily does reorder some things. for example, the first section of dracula is told entirely from jonathan harker’s pov, then the second section switches the pov to mina murray. their sections have some overlap in the timeline, so dracula daily jumps back and forth between their perspectives.

if you want to read the book as bram stoker intended, dracula daily may not be for you. but for a lot of people (myself included!), it breaks up a very long text into easily digestible chunks (....mostly. there is one entry that is 10k words), and the fact that it’s a big project means there are a lot of people reading along with you.

i think there’s also something valuable about experience the slow revelation of wtf is going on along with the characters. the book which you might otherwise get through in a few days is stretched out into months of suspense and agony as you wait for the other shoe to drop, and it’s great.

plus, the whiplash between “jonathan harker’s neverending horror” vs “lucy is basically on the bachelorette” that you get in dracula daily is very very funny.

how do i sign up?

right here! and if you sign up and fall behind in the emails, no worries - the dracula daily website posts past entries so you can catch up.

what if i prefer audiobooks?

have i got great news for you!

like i mentioned before, i couldn’t keep up with the emails last year. part of it is that it is much easier for me to focus on an audiobook or keep up with a podcast than it is for me to sit down and read, especially with longer entries.

this year, there is going to be a podcast titled “re: dracula” that was inspired by dracula daily. every episode will be a dracula daily entry, with a full voice cast! (seriously, if you listen to british podcasts, you will recognize some of these names. the magnus archives and wooden overcoats girlies are WINNING.) you can find that here.

there is also a podcast called “cryptic canticles” that has an already-completed audiodrama of dracula that i’m told is also extremely good, and was also broken up by date. you can find that here.

why do i keep hearing about paprika/the boyfriend squad/lizard fashion/cowboys?

you’ll see.

oh god am i gonna hear about this nerd shit for the rest of the year

yes. sorry.

#dracula #dracula daily #re: dracula #cryptic canticles

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cherry-leclerc · 8 months ago

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stolen sweethearts ☆ cl16

genre: humor, angst, yearning, pining after three years so maybe slowburn??, fluff, second chances, whipped!charles

word count: 4.3k

Everything that leads to your wedding day and ends up with a knock on your door from your ex-boyfreind and an infamous letter.

req!...longer than intended, whoops! enjoy, anons :)

inspired by this !

“You’re making a mistake—”

Your eye twitches in the slightest, glossy lips curling into a snarl. “Shut up and be quiet.”

“What?”

Looking down at your boyfriend, dressed in Armani from head to toe and a blank expression, you wince apologetically. You grasp his hand tighter, knuckles becoming white, and smile widely, tears brimming the corner of your eyes. “Not you, honey!” A wet chuckle escapes when he visibly relaxes. “Yes! Yes! A thousand times yes.”

The engagement party was a pleasant surprise, filled with congratulations and early wedding gifts. It also brought out a large group of your friends from hibernation. “Felicidades,” Carlos says with a teasing smirk. “I truly never thought I’d see the day you settle.”

You bit the air. “Ha ha. That was the old me. New me is a completely changed woman thanks to true unconditional love. It’s crazy, try it out some time,” you shoot back.

The Spaniard simply scowls and bows away, returning to his earlier conversation. You consider yourself lucky—as if you committed a successful heist and somehow got away with it. He was handsome, with bright eyes, dark hair, and tempting lips. There truly wasn’t a single flaw to your now fiancé. And if there were, no one ironically saw it but Lando.

“You’re making a—”

“Mistake?” you finish off his sentence, sighing and rubbing your temples. “So you say.” You were in the middle of ordering yourself another piña colada when he hounded you like a madman. The Brit blows out with a tired expression, as if he were giving up on all of humanity.

“Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes.” Angling your head to aim a dirty glare, you silently flip him off as he uses your earlier words against you.

“Aren’t you tired, Lan? It’s been three years, let it go.”

The blue eyed boy musters a threatening look and then rips your sweet treat away from your grip, immediately claiming ownership. Your brows fly up with an offended scoff. He chugs it all down before shaking his curls adamantly. “No, I will not let it go. Bloody hell, you’re one stubborn gal—you can’t go through with this.”

For the shortest second, a ray of hesitance strikes your face when you spot your fiancé, happily indulging in a round of shots with Carlos, Max, and Daniel. The group laughs with amusement over something he says. Your lips wobble, turning back to your friend, shooting lasers. “Why not? And please don’t say—”

“Charles.” Somehow, even with the mention of his name, your world still manages to spin off its axis, alarming your remaining sanity. Last time you saw the Monegasque was quite the day, ending with regretful words and inferior decisions. Lando grimaces when you let out a shaky breath. “You know you haven’t gotten over him. And I can guarantee you that this…” He spins his index finger around the flashing room. “Will not make the difference you're hoping it will.”

Have you made your Christmas list? I told you I need it at least two weeks prior. I work well under pressure, but for God’s sake, honey, this is too much. Charles chuckles, cleaning his pair of Ray Bans against the hem of your skirt. You sigh.

Oui. Making his way over to his duffel bag, he retreats a crumpled up piece of paper. Oh, um, shit. The green eyed boy cringes with embarrassment, pouting modestly. You swallow the giggle sliding up your throat when he frowns furthermore. I swear I had it! It must've gotten crushed with all my stuff. You know what? Charles strolls over to the flight of stairs. I’ll just make a new one, give me a sec.

As soon as he leaves, you yawn, stretching out like a cat. You can’t help the fluffy feeling; Christmas always adds to it. But something about this one felt distinctively different and you couldn’t place the reason why.

Your orbs flicker across the dimly lit room before falling back to the thin piece of paper. Patting your palms on your thighs, you get up and delicately open it up, curiosity overflowing. It shouldn’t have mattered, he was going to re-write it anyways.

His calligraphy had always been messy, and yet you always—somehow—understood; from the start of his sentences to the final dot. But this had to be the one and only time you wish you weren’t so comprehensive.

I’ve been thinking about us

A lot recently, actually

I’ve had some thoughts over these past few weeks and

I think we should just end things.

You bat your eyes, already feeling the pressure forming behind, stinging harshly. Was this meant for you? For you to find? Had it been intentional the moment he pulled out the fucking note? Would he just not come back and was it all an excuse?

But he does. And his pale face answers all of your questions.

Oh fuck, what have you done?

Rage fuels within you as you briskly brush away the acid sliding down your burgundy cheeks, heat rushing through your body. What have I done? What the fuck is this bullshit, Charles?

The Monegasque instantly rushes over, trying to get ahold of the piece of paper. You rapidly pull it away and force a step back as you let out a wet chuckle. He winces at the cold sound. Why would you do that? Why did you do that?

So you’re not denying it? You wrote this? You knew he had, his writing was imprinted into your brain like a manuscript you had professionally studied endless hours.

His skin only loses more color with every passing second. I’m not trying to blame you! I did. I did write that—but that was so long ago, you have to believe me, and I can explain! He kneels down, silently pleading you to bless him with a spare minute. Just let me explain it all to you.

I never took you for a poet, you bitterly spit out as you continue skimming through the full page. You have a lot on your mind—a lot. Scanning his desperate state, you can’t help but let out a soft whimper, scrunching your nose.

I’m not, shit. He grips your thighs from where he is and lets out a set of shaky breaths. Do you remember when—

I don't want to remember, you let out. I just simply want to forget.

He can creepily hear the way your heart is breaking and how his follows along with every word, puncturing his soul. You don’t even notice his coming arm, taking half of the note away and you irritatedly pull back, causing it to rip in half.

That does it, bullying you down to the floor where you start to cry. Out of anger, out of betrayal, out of everything. The green eyed boy tries to soothe you, mumbling into your hair but you’re too busy zoning out that you don’t catch a single confession.

Leave.

Charles flinches; you can feel it as he presses close to you. What?

He almost doesn’t recognize you when you furiously push him off, crawling back with a sense of suffocation. Pain crosses his eyes as he watches you create distance. I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you here anymore—leave.

Anyone who knows Charles would know that he never gave up. He either spoke down on himself and pitied for a while, but never ever gave up. So this was a first. A tough pill to swallow.

If that's what you want me to do, then…okay. He stands up firmly, but inside he’s terrified that his limbs might call out for the day. But I love you. So don’t ever ask me to stop. And he walks out of your life after evilly twisting the knife.

With a new note and ring box deep inside his pocket.

Despaired eyes flicker over to where Charles eases into a conversation with Carmen and George, occasionally clenching his jaw. You hadn’t invited him—that’s just absurd—but he had gotten word from blabbermouth Pierre and you didn’t have the solidity to say no. From the looks of it, he didn’t want to be here either.

“Well I’ve got news for you, my dear friend, I love Hudson, so climb on board because this is happening…” Your voice trails off the second your ex looks up, as if he felt your eyes drawn onto him. Normally they’re dazzling and filled with joy, but the unfamiliar injured expression is like a punch to the gut. Your conscience calls you out on it, slapping you back into reality. Turning to Lando, you purse your lips tightly. “Who even is Charles?”

“God! When I saw Charles had showed up I just wanted to dig up a hole and never come out! Who would willingly go to their exes' engagement party?” Like a spinning top, you fume at Kika whose eyes shine at the sight of you, even after barking. “You should have warned me Pierre would do that. God, I hate that jerk sometimes.”

The Portuguese hums. “Me too…” You flick a questionable brow. Kika giggles, fixing your white gown, feathering it out like a dove. “I know, I should have! Bad friend, bad friend,” she childishly says. You can’t help rolling your eyes, returning your attention back to your reflection. “But if we’re being truthful here, someone should have warned Charles.”

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a quick sip of the complimentary champagne, she nods enthusiastically. “No one gave him a heads up. He thought it was just any other ordinary party—nowhere near a proposal.”

Your stomach churns, mortification taking over at the sudden report. Charles’ reaction was odd, but you couldn’t help filling up with satisfaction, climbing onto your high horse when you saw it. Never in a million years did you ever consider that being a surprise to him too. Hellooo? Coughing awkwardly, you swat her hand far away. Kika yelps.

“Yeah, well he deserves it.” You chug down the rest of her drink in a matter of seconds. Her wide eyes grow larger as she nervously giggles. “No one ever gave me a warning either.”

You were never one for being superstitious, but if anyone ever taught you something valuable, then it would be to never make contact with the groom before the wedding ceremony. He probably didn’t know any better—it of course wasn’t intentional—but that doesn’t stop your heartbeat from spiking up when you spot your fiancé sauntering over to where to stand.

“What are you doing here?” you hiss. Hudson furrows his thick brow. What are you talking about? I came to see you. You look fucking hot by the way. Squeezing your eyes shut, you shoo him, expensive jewelry clinking against one another. “Listen, that’s sweet and all, but you need to leave or else you’re going to ruin it!” You already did, the devil on your shoulder growls. You try relaxing, but can still feel the tenseness shifting between your shoulder blades. “Hudson, I’m dead serious, go.”

The stubborn brunette raises his arms in defense, mouthing a quick wow and walking back out. Were you being a tad bit colder than intended? Was there a better way to deal with the unwanted interaction? Yes. Probably. That’s what you tried to convince yourself because you knew the longer you pondered, the quicker you would realize that Lando was right.

You were making a mistake.

Charles isn’t any better off. He twists and turns the entire night, debating whether he should attend the occasion he knew would most likely make him flat line, but the curiosity definitely got to him. He always wondered what type of dress you would exclusively choose, perfect in every detail. Your hair, your heels. Your smile. Because they weren’t all the same. There was the kind that would sort of slip to a subtle, shy frown when he would compliment you, so he often saw lots of those. Or the kind that would cause your eyes to crinkle—he witnessed those when he would tickle you half to death, laughing loudly as tears would start to form. What he would kill to see you beam back at him once again…

But naturally, he talked himself out of it. What good does it do for him? The following morning, as he blinks strangely at the white wall, he starts to reminisce to himself. Like your first date—which was originally for both Carlos and Isa—but you both weaseled your way in. Or the time he taught you how to skate; only to remember he doesn’t know how to skate. He kept apologizing as the doctor secured your arm with a bright pink cast, but you only laughed, begging him to be the first to sign it. You were probably high off of meds, but still.

A peculiar feeling washes over as he spots an old shoe box. He almost dashes out of the arctic room when he realizes what it holds, but deliberately crunches down to open it.

And he knows what to do.

“He wants to see you,” Lily shrieks, peeking out into the hallway, then jumping back in. The teal dress was doing wonders for her skin tone, but you couldn’t help the agitation. Tell him I don’t want to see him. We have a whole lifetime to do that, you groan, slipping onto your heels.

Your bridesmaid clicks her tongue, widening the entrance as you hold back a much needed gasp. “I think you should tell him yourself…”

“I only need a minute,” Charles stammers, a thin layer of sweat coating his sharp nose. You’re too afraid to speak, so you robotically nod as you watch everyone scurry out, giving you two privacy. The twenty-six year old shyly gets closer, gently pinching a piece of paper in between his clammy grip. Your heart stops. “I walked beneath a ladder…on my way here,” he clarifies. You blink, long lashes fluttering like a fan. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn.”

If I had known you were this manly, I would’ve married you a lifetime ago. It slips out like a force of nature before you can stop yourself as your boyfriend halts from his task. The day was soon ending, late November, and you were both working together on painting the bedroom your dream shade. He had tried talking you out of it because it was simply—just white— but you had hounded him until he agreed. Now he stands here with a white coloring staining his dark gray shirt and you’ve never been happier.

Is that something you might want? Charles tries to play it cool, picking up from where he left off, lips itching into a goofy grin. To get married?

You’re almost glad he’s not facing you since you're as bright as a tomato. I won’t lie, I’ve definitely thought about it. You take a sip of water, suddenly caught with a dry throat. Could be nice.

The Monegaque flips around to face you, placing the paint roller down and strolling over to where you sit criss-cross. You visibly gulp; electricity slipping into the small room. It would be, wouldn’t it? His pink lips ghost over yours as you lean in a bit.

Yeah…

Could kiss you anytime I want… Kiss. Fuck you anytime I want… Another kiss. My fucking dream.

You moan against his touch, melting away like an ice cream sundae. I-I-I really think we could do it; be married. You had been together for so long now, you’re honestly surprised you hadn’t had this conversation any sooner. I would choose that exact same shade for my dress, you squeal, pointing at the wet wall. He hums. Not eggshell, not timid white—whipped cream, if you will.

Ahhhh, smart girl, he teases, nipping at your bottom lip. You practice this shit when I’m not around?

You laugh. I’ve been taught all kinds of tones from birth. My father was a painter himself, remember?

Of course I do, mon amour. He only created the best piece of art yet, he announces with a cheshire smile, watercolor eyes pointing down at you. You blush.

You’re such a klutz, you would probably do something stupid like walk underneath a ladder on our wedding day. You only do it every time, you say, wiggling out of his grip as he tickles you.

I swear I don't do that shit on purpose, it just happens, okay?

Pressing your nose against his, you cozily sigh. As long as we don’t see eachother until the actual ceremony, then I won’t be too upset.

Is that a promise?

You nod. That’s a fucking vow.

“You called it.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you chuckle when you nearly tip over. “Yeah, you’ve always been like that, but don’t think about it too much—it’s not like it’s your wedding.”

He clenches his sharp jaw. “Sure, but bad luck is bad luck, no? And I think I’m quite familiar with it.”

His words shouldn’t impact you so much years laters, but they do. Perhaps it’s due to his sorrowful stare, or his anxious tick, but it kills you just the same way it did that December night. You let out a light shudder, blinking away tears. “What do you want, Charles?”

“I wrote you a letter.”

God—a heartfelt note is the last thing you wanted and today was not the day to receive it either. Or ever. Not when it came from him. “I’m sorry, but it’s a bit too late for that. I’m about to be a married woman in approximately an hour.” You narrow your neat brows, flawless makeup shimmering against the sunbeams. “What gives you the right to walk back into my life, get shit off your chest for your own sake, and just for you to do what? Leave?”

You’re not being fair; not completely, but you can't help it. For the longest time, you thought you were over it, but clearly not. Charles licks his rosy lips, closing the gap between you two. “This isn’t something I just came up with.” He extends his arm out. “I wrote this three years ago.”

You inhale sharply, suspiciously eyeing the white paper. Please, just read it. Back then you could never turn him down, as much as you tried…

And it appears like today wasn’t any different.

It’s almost hilarious to think about how much you cried on your proposal date and how much you are now. You were a light rain at best when Hudson got down on one knee, but Charles stands here, tall, and you’re a complete waterfall.

“Y-you were going to ask me to…” A headache comes rolling in as you let out a wet cry. “This isn’t true; it isn’t real. You wrote this today and came here to fuck with me.”

The Monegasque shakes his head in panic, blood painting his higher cheekbones. “No—listen; the first letter you found, I did write that.” You grimace. “But I swear I took it back immediately. It’s just that you were getting so much hate during that time, and you would always cry, and then you’d say you were never crying…You were in a really dark place. Do you remember?”

How could you not? You knew not everyone was going to love you for dating one of the top Formula One drivers, but you never expected to read such brutal messages either. They were descriptive, and cruel, and ruthless, and it crushed you more than you’d like to admit. Which was fucking stupid since there was always a rather large community that loved and adored you, and Charles loved and adored you—and yet.

You release a shaky breath, desperately rubbing your eyelids. Lily would probably throw a fit at your now snotty and smudged makeup, but you couldn’t really think too deeply about any of that right now. “What does that have to do with anything?”

The brunette cradles your face and you hate when you lean into his warm touch. “I just wanted all of that to end; for you to feel better. And I could never actually say the words, so I drafted a letter, and I’m so fucking sorry, mon amour.” The tides crash inside your chest, getting harder to breathe. “It has been my biggest regret. Hurting you.”

He did more than hurt you; he broke you completely. Like a porcelain doll, like a trophy, like a mirrorball; it ruined you. But you know he knows that when his eyes slowly turn red. “But then I thought to myself, it doesn’t have to be that way! W-we could restrict comments, I could post something and stand up for the woman I love, and I could reassure her by vowing the most sacred thing there could ever exist…And I sat down and wrote this letter.”

If you thought Charles loved you before, then you’re a fool. He was utterly infatuated, devoted, obsessed and drowning in fervor. This letter may be old, slightly cutting loose around the edges, but it’s pinned as straight as can be. Not like the last.

“My only mistake was writing the first, and to even consider giving up on us. My best decision has been writing the second, and promising to stick by you the way I knew I was put on this Earth to do.” Charles carefully draws you in closer. “But I know nothing could ever fix the shit I’ve put you through, but I’m begging for the chance to try.” He kisses your temple and you relax against his lips. “I’m fucking desperate—just one.”

He slips out his original ring box and shines the gem back at you. It’s smaller than the one Hudson had given you, thinner too.

But it has you written all over.

A dizzy spell hovers over as you blink hastily. Charles doesn’t dare to breathe, waiting for you. “This isn’t…I just…” You bite your lower lip, glossy orbs flickering towards the band and then back at him. “Thank you for taking the time to apologize and clear things up; I really needed that, but I can’t do this.” You step out of his embrace, immediately freezing as if you were spending a winter in Iceland. His heart palpitates hysterically, green eyes skimming your features. “This isn’t what I had in mind—this isn’t what’s supposed to happen,” you press sternly.

“You’re right; it’s not.” Though you had just said the same, hearing him repeat it jams the knife deeper into your heart. You can hear chaos ensuing down the hallway, your friends chirping happily at one another. Contrary to what was going on in here. “It’s not because you can’t marry him. Because you know you don’t love him the way you say you do.” He laughs. “You tolerate him at best! I saw the way you avoided him getting down on one knee that day. You kept running off until you couldn’t anymore.” You burn up. “And who was the first person you looked for as he slipped that ring onto your finger? Me.”

“You’re paying too much attention to detail,” you retort, almost snarling.

“Sure, and that’s eggshell.”

It’s like a slap to the face. Your blurry vision focuses onto your dress for a second before snapping back up. “It’s whipped cream. The way I wanted.”

The Monegasque rolls his watercolor eyes, nostrils fuming. “Open up your eyes and see—It’s. Eggshell. Nothing about this is anything you ever dreamt of for your wedding! From your dress, to your ring, to your fucking fiancé!” He huffs. “This ring is all I could have afforded back then, but I would have sold my heart to get you a fucking star if that’s what you wanted…But you’ve always liked the simpler things. You always said you didn’t need a huge diamond to prove your devotion. Look at you now,” he says, signaling to your ring that swallows your hand whole. “All of this is fake.”

You’re sobbing now. You’re bubbling with anger. Because he was here, with you, out of all days. Because he was still the same man who broke your heart and stitched it back up.

Because he was right.

Brushing your nose with the back of your hand, you stare up weakly, defeated. “What do you want me to do?” you whisper, brows drawn together as he folds over completely over your goddess state.

“Don’t marry him and come with me.”

Though you knew that was what he wanted from the moment he walked past the door, it still knocked the last breath you held.

Things were never easy with him. There were constant fights—but that never seemed to matter by the end of the day. There was constant hate—but you always braved through it because you needed him.

And he steadied you. Charles was the first one to apologize, even if the majority of arguments weren’t his fault. Charles was the one who despite crushing his own heart, he wrote that letter to keep you untouched from his fans, from the media.

The letter hurt; like a motherfucker—and it would take a while to forgive…

But there’s no one else you would rather work through with it than with him.

Smiling softly, you nod, almost as if you can’t believe you’re actually doing this. Charles lets out a heavy exhale, laughing as he hugs you tightly, leaving you like a fish out on land. But you’re giggling through it all. “I have to talk to Hudson first, oh God, I have to talk to his family…” you shriek, pale and mortified.

“You know,” he starts. “We could skip all of that and just—”

“No,” you coldly press. Charles’ brows fly up. “I have to do this.” Distancing yourself from him, you wobble to the wooden door before looking back at the handsome man who stands proudly with his neat suit. Butterflies expand freely. “You’ll still be here when I get back, right?”

With a single hand pressed against his heart, he nods, as if you held the keys to all gates. “I’ll be wherever you need me to be from now on.” With that, you grin, eyes crinkling and exit the room.

What happened to your makeup? Lily squeals when she spots you running down the hallway, tripping over her tall heels as Alex catches her. There better be a reasonable explanation to this!

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