#this post is a mess pls no one look at it
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my baby
eek this is my first time properly writing for ghost gasp
this was supposed to just be a quick little drabble but i kind of got into the writing mood and couldn’t stop
also disclaimer i have never first hand played the games, but i’ve watched friends and family play them so any inaccuracies please ignore!
cw: details of car accident, hospitals, angst, female reader (i think that’s all pls let me know if there are others)
word count: 1.8k - not proofread, ignore any mistakes thank youuu
Simon could feel something was wrong.
Something in his bones, a rippling wave of nausea, a shift in the breeze on the back of his neck.
The other lads had always made a joke of his seemingly supernatural levels of superstition, how he was able to almost always accurately predict when or if something was going to go wrong.
Information had been from a dodgy source? Simon had guessed from the way Gaz had dropped his mug of coffee that morning.
One of their safe houses was infiltrated? Yeah, he’d known something was coming after Soap had stubbed his little toe getting out of bed and they’d heard the Scot’s high-pitched swearing from the mess hall.
They were being ambushed whilst on a seemingly harmless mission? You guessed it, Lt. Simon Riley had warned them in the helo the day before that Price’s favourite hat going missing was a sign.
One thing about Simon- he never, ever ignored his intuition.
So the forlorn look on Price’s face as he approached Simon’s hulking frame in the gym caused his stomach to drop. He’d been stood supervising Gaz and Soap training the newbies when that god awful sensation washed over him- and now he could tell Price was going to confirm that feeling.
Turning to face the Captain when he reached his side, Simon nodded out of respect, “Cap’n”.
The sigh that he received in response only made his stomach plummet further.
“Simon,”
Price never called him by his first name. Only ever Lieutenant or Ghost.
Something was really wrong.
“…it’s your girl. She’s in a bad way.”
✯ ✯ ✯
Unlike your husband, you’d never been one for superstition. All those things online about a woman’s intuition made you feel slightly out of the loop- you don’t think you’d ever predicted something bad before it happened.
In some ways you were thankful; you never lived with the lingering sense of dread and suspicion that Simon seemed to. You’d never woken up filled with anxiety over something that was a possibility.
However, in some ways, it was a curse. Every bad thing that had ever happened to you or your loved ones seemed to blindside you. Breakups, whilst sometimes predictable, had always gutted you in a deep, physical way. Betrayal, death, accidents, injuries. They all seemed to hit you deeper when you never saw them coming.
Being stabbed in the back hurts worse when you can’t see the knife coming.
That was why that morning had felt like just another Thursday. Your normal day to go food shopping, knowing the supermarket would be relatively quiet and that you would need to stock up for the weekend when Simon tended to snack like nobody’s business.
You had just packed up the car with the bags, pulling out of the car park and onto the large roundabout the led onto the main road.
Just like every other time you’d made the trip.
Only, those other times didn’t include a huge Land Rover who hadn’t seen you in your tiny Volkswagen Beetle- the one your husband had bought you when you’d told him it was your dream car as a little girl.
The Rover pulled out just as you passed him, driving head first into the passenger’s side and sending your car spinning, careening out of control and straight into a sign post on the other side of the road, tipping the car onto its side.
The accident had happened at such a speed that you hadn’t even mentally understood what was happening before your eyes closed involuntarily, shards of glass from the smashed windshield and doors littering your skin, your chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, cuts all over your body and your seatbelt digging painfully into you.
Your last thought before your body shut down was the face of the man you loved.
✯ ✯ ✯
Simon had never driven as fast in his life.
He was well over the speed limit, his foot on the accelerator almost parallel to the floor.
The hour drive to the hospital from the base took him 25 minutes.
He hadn’t even bothered with a response when Price had informed him of which hospital you were in, Gaz and Soap only looking up from their training when they heard the door slam after him, the gym feeling slightly colder than it had minutes prior.
He had no doubt that the rest of the task force wouldn’t be far behind him: you had become somewhat of a staple around the base over the years, bringing the boys hot meals, helping with odd jobs, making sure they were all taking care of themselves.
Sometimes, Soap would come to you with his issues instead of Ghost- that was when you knew your husbands colleagues were more than just colleagues. You had been welcomed into their little dysfunctional family.
Throwing his car into the first parking space he found, Simon stormed into the reception area, his aura more that of Ghost than Simon with the palpable anger and tension radiating off of him. The elderly receptionist seemed to cower in his shadow looming over the desk, ignoring the funny and fearful looks he got from the rest of the waiting area as he barked out your name.
“R-room 414, pet,” He made a mental note to thank the woman a bit more softly and charged his way down the hall to the stairwell. The lift would only hinder him and he knew fine well he would run up a million flights of stairs to get to you. Hell, he’d scale Everest blindfolded. Wrangle the moon with a rope. Anything. For you.
After reaching the fourth floor, he flung the door stairwell door open and began his search for you, scouring each and every door number until he found it
Despite his earlier efforts to get to you as quickly as possible, he felt himself take a shuddering breath before he dared to enter- he had no idea what he was walking into. The only information Price had been given was that you’d been hospitalised a handful of hours ago. It was harder to reach a next of kin who worked on a military base, apparently.
When his eyes landed on you in that hospital bed, the only thing keeping his legs from giving way beneath him was the thought of getting to you.
Your usually glowing face was pale and sunken. Your lovely rosy cheeks he loved to pepper with kisses were hidden beneath tubes and cuts. A bandage wrapped around your head skewed your hair from his sight. The feeling of seeing you lying there, helpless, relying on machines to keep you going was so much worse than any bad intuition he’d ever felt before.
He would swap places with you in a heartbeat. No physical pain would ever compare with the utter devastation he was experiencing. His heart was no longer in his own chest, but lying battered and bruised in a hospital bed attached to machines.
His large hands swept delicately over the side of your head, “My baby,” his voice wavered, heavy with fear, “My sweet girl. What happened to you, baby?”
The taste of salt on his lips was his only sign that he was crying.
Big, bad, Lieutenant Simon Riley. Ghost. His name drove terror into the hearts of men across the globe.
Reduced to tears at the sight of you.
His knees hit the floor by your bedside, both of his hands delicately cupping your bruised face, “Come back to me, baby. You promised forever, yeah? I’m holding you to that,” A quiet sob ripped from his throat before he could control it, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek and moving to bury his head in your stomach to muffle any more sobs.
Simon had no idea how long he had been sat slumped over you, still on his knees yet not willing to leave your side for more than a second to grab a chair. He would never let you out of sight again. Judging by the fact that the sky was significantly darker by the time he heard the door open, he could tell he’d been here for a while. Jerking his slumped head up to the door, he left out a silent breath of relief when a familiar face appeared with a sorrowful smile.
“Hey, Si. How’s our bonnie lass?” To Soap, you had been their girl since the moment Simon had introduced you to the group. His best friend- second only to your husband.
When Simon said nothing, only looked at him in silent despair and flickered his eyes back to you, Soap pushed open the door and revealed the other two men stood patiently behind him. Filtering into the room, both Gaz and Price removed their hats in respect as the three of them came to stand by your bedside but Simon couldn’t remove his eyes from you. His baby. His sweet, funny, intelligent girl.
“Hope you don’t mind, LT- we found ‘er doctor a bit ago, asked ‘im what happened, thought we’d give you some space,” Price’s voice had never been so soft, so cautious not to disturb the sullen atmosphere of the room, “Said she’d been in a car accident. Some idiot had pulled out on her, thankfully on the passenger side so she avoided the brunt of it,”
“They’ve said to let her rest, should hopefully come round in a bit, but she’s gonna be sore for a while,” Gaz finished Price’s explanation as gently as he could, knowing his LT’s tendency to become protective and hostile at the flip of a switch.
“She’ll be just fine, Si. Just needs her beauty sleep.” Even Soap’s usual humour couldn’t calm Simon. Someone had done this to you. You were in her because of the careless mistake of someone else.
He wouldn’t leave your side. Never again.
✯ ✯ ✯
Price had managed to coax Ghost into a chair before they’d left to return to base, hoping to save his knees and back but allowing him to stay with you.
Simon had resumed his previous place of laying his head gently on your stomach, clutching the hand closest to him in both of his.
At some point, the utter terror he had been feeling since the minute he saw Price’s face that afternoon caught up with him and he had passed out, still clutching your hand.
The feeling of gentle fingers weaving into his hair was what stirred Simon from a dreamless sleep, confusedly lifting his head to see you looking down at him with a pained smile when you caught sight of his red-rimmed eyes. The only time you’d seen your husband shed a tear was at your wedding.
His mouth dropped open slightly as he took in your eyes. Your beautiful, open, awake eyes. He’d never take those eyes for granted ever again.
“My baby.”
#fanfiction#simon riley x reader#simon riley#simon ghost riley#ghost cod#ghost x reader#ghost#cod fanfic#cod x reader#cod#cod mwii#cod mw2#x reader
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why tf do one bedroom apartments have to be so expensive (this is a huge vent dump pls avert your gazes)
my roommate keeps inviting people to our apartment without fucking telling me (or waiting til the LAST possible second to do so) even tho i’ve said time and time again i hate when people do that especially cuz he has a bad habit of doing that when we have plans where he just invites other people (esp people i barely know or dont know at all) without telling me or anyone else that was already involved. its even more aggravating cuz when this is brought up he acts like he makes sure to avoid this and he fucking doesnt like when i lived with an old friend and an ex-friend, him and our other friend invited someone to our place (so they invited a stranger to a place they did not live at) and none of them fucking told me until i was literally about to walk inside after work and like am i crazy or do people not see how rude that is?? like dawg thats my fucking home U GOTTA TELL ME WHEN PEOPLE THAT DO NOT LIVE THERE ARE GOING TO BE THERE
and if ur going to force me to interact with strangers have the decency to introduce us???? once we went to meet with some friends (not rly but i’d met them before) and ig one of their sisters was there and they just. didnt introduce us to each other? and we were on opposite ends of the table so its not like we could really interact either? and they did this when we got invited to another friends bday thing where someone i’d never been introduced to was there and they didnt fuckin introduce us and i was anxious cuz i was sitting across from her and finally had to be like “oh hi are u x? i’m so-and-so” like jesus christ is this not common sense for people? why are yall okay with forcing complete strangers to hangout
and with work today i was so overstimulated and got more and more aggravated by this cuz like i dont want to have to move every year and one bedrooms are so expensive rn but im so fucking tired of going thru this. not to mention we dont have a ceiling fan in our living room so he turns down the ac rly low when people are over so it jacks up our ac bill so it makes me even More anxious cuz him inviting people over = social anxiety for me and general anxiousness knowing our bill is going to be higher
i was so aggravated by this i ended up skipping out on plans we had today cuz my roommate also talks about himself. a lot. and we were out with friends like yesterday night or smthing and he kept going on and on about some guys he’s talking to on a dating app and i knew that would just make me angrier and idk it kinda sucked that one of my other friends involved thought i felt i was rly close with didnt seem to gaf either that i abruptly dropped out and theres obviously something wrong with me mental health-wise cuz i have this really bizarre self-sabotaging tendency when my mood severely dips where i convince myself no one cares or everyone hates me and think of this dark scenarios and just kind of start spiraling
and with my anger issues i go thru this weird loop of understanding a lot of my emotional/temperamental and communication issues stems from my fucked up family cuz my mom is super vain/self-absorbed and never thinks she can be wrong and basically my sisters are the same so i keep things bottled up and end up getting REALLY angry with no healthy outlet until i reach a breaking point and im just not great with communicating how i rly feel either cuz talking to my family was like talking to a brick wall and my older sister would literally cut me off constantly telling me to shut up so i rarely communicate things beyond like....joking around and stuff so i tend to vent/trauma dump into the void on social media lmfao which is obviously not healthy at all either but like......yeah it also sucks when i start spiraling and thinking back on this shit that i’ll never get closure from the longterm issues i developed from my family cuz now they want to act like we’re this tight-knit super close family that always got along and even if i were to ever bring this shit up they’d just point fingers or deny doing anything wrong.
idk like its nice having a group of friends i can hangout with and stuff irl but also i feel like i cant ever really talk to them about anything like this that im going thru cuz i also feel super uncomfortable thinking i might be making things about myself (and honestly i do hate when people trauma-dump on me completely out of nowhere so i also want to avoid doing that)
also whats stopping me about addressing these issues with my roommate is cuz he has a tendency to victimize himself and thinking hes just being attacked? like he’s also super self-deprecating All the time which is also extremely exhausting to deal with constantly and it pisses me off that with our other friend/my old roommate, my current roommate kisses his ass and listened to him when he told him these issues of him being too self-deprecating etc. but ik if anyone else did he would just feel sorry for himself
im tired of this
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idk what to caption this💀💀💀 they’re so dumb
#made a rough concept of zzz sona.. prob won’t post it until i rlly get it down#…couldn’t wait to make lighter selfship art that’s my bad#still thinking of stuff!!! but it’s ok.. i got it kinda developing w a friend rn it’s awesome#he looks a little weird here sorry omg i can’t draw him right#im inconsistent… sigh#would never wear lipstick but this is just rlly funny they’d do this to mess w him#pls lighter one chance🙏💀#meddly (zzz)#lighter lorenz#zenless zone zero#zenlessoc#selfship#dazai’s canvas 🫧
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2009 Malaysian Grand Prix - Jenson Button(ft. Nick Heidfeld & Timo Glock)
#gifing jenson podiums is just me frantically saying to myself over and over:#'WHY IS HE SO PRETTYYYYYYY'#his wet messed up hair in all of these....i am unwell...#i have a love hate relationship with wet races#i like them as a race bcs they add an extra element of unpredicatableness#BUT THEY MAKE THE LIGHTING OF THE PODIUMS ABSOLUTE SHIT(at least in this era)#this and the next race(china 2009) are plagued with the worst lighting known to man#and it pains me so much cause theyre both great podiums but the lighting makes everyone look so bad LMAO#like yes ty for letting me see my drivers sopping wet but my god why do you make them look like smeagol(sry thats so out of pocket)#but its impossible to completely ruin jenson's handsomeness so no worries#there were so many cute shots of him peeking out of the car I LOVE HIMMMMM SOB SOB#i really gotta stop making gifsets right before i need to sleep it makes me keep pushing my sleepy time later#hahaha me quickly posting these mere hours before the first event of miami#PLS! ITS NOT THE RACE WKND JUST YET I SWEAR I SWEAR#jenson button#jb22#timo glock#nick heidfeld#brawn#f1#formula 1#formula one#we do a little bit of f1#2009 malaysian grand prix#2009 malaysian gp#(2009: 2/17 races watched)#season: 2009
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Heya @themissbanshee , so for the first time in a long time I've kept my internet art promise and drew you Fem!Wally in the Monika outfit, with some changes here and there to get it to fit her better! She did turn out pretty cute, don't you think?
Of course, this is also your reminder that I've thought of her a lot these last few days. I've done a few sketches of her, and that is probably why the Monika outfit turned out so good ahhahahm.
#does this count as an early b-day present?#probably not but it is funny to me how close yours is atm#welcome home#wally darling#fem!wally#I tried doing her in chibi form...it didn't go as planned#I would do more corrections to her but she is literally the size of my thumb so it is very easy to mess her up when I erase#her little face is the size of my thumbnail which is both very cute but makes it hard to do more stuff with her#anyways#I wasn't sure if I wanted to clean and color her in the monika outfit#but I might in the future but no promises#i hope you like this#my art#and yes the one of her looking from the side is supposed to look a little dreamy-ish#she is the 3rd one I drew right after the first 2 I did from my last post of her#redid her after that and she turned out good enough for this group#yay#but also pls appreciate her skirt it took me so long and many tries to get it to look right I forgot how hard pleated skirts were#seriously the behind bit of it is such a small detail but came out wrong enough I had to try until it looked right aahahhaha
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Cape comics truly are an inescapable rabbit hole vortex where attempts to make forward progress only dig you deeper
Goal: Read Gates of Gotham with robust context on concurrent batfam dynamics, for a clear picture of how things stand for them at the end of the post-Crisis era
Step 1: okay so Batman and Robin (2009) and a Red Robin re-read for Dick (+Damian) and Tim, as main. And Blackest Night: Batman, of course. Also Streets of Gotham probably, and selections from Dick's Batman.
Step 0: okay but for lead-in to those I need Battle for the Cowl
Step -1: and for the lead-in to BftC I need Bruce's death in Final Crisis (YAY DONE) and the arcs with Dick and Tim reacting/processing, so add Search for a Hero from Robin and The Great Leap from Nightwing (Batman RIP)
Step -2: and how can I really understand their grappling with Bruce's death if I don't get a clear picture of their relationships with him at the time, so let's add Resurrection of Ra's Al Ghul (DONE YAY), Freefall (DONE YAY), Tim grappling with Steph's return (DONE YAY), Heart of Hush (Batman RIP) (DONE YAY) and Morrison's whole Black Glove storyline (DONE YAY). Now I can move forward into the BtfC lead-up, yes???
Step -3: .....shit, Jason is in Search for a Hero, Tim's lead-in arc. And also BftC itself. I've got everything up through Hush for him done, but that just means I finally need to do Under the Hood and a refresh of his Titans Tower appearance. And his ridiculous TentaTodd storyline in Nightwing Brothers in Blood after that.
Step -4: and for the proper lead-in to Jason's return, gotta do War Games. At least I've already done Dick's Renegade arc and Bludhaven getting nuked.
Step -5: okay so to do War Games, I need Jack finding out Tim is Robin and Tim's forced quitting (YAY DONE), and Steph's Robin run (YAY NEARLY DONE). Woo-hoo, almost ready to start War Games!!
Step -6: Hey this scene in the 'Tec #796 back-up with Bruce and Cass staging a fight with Onyx and Orpheus in Penguin's club is really fun, I want to know more about Onyx and Orpheus as undercover Bat agents, and I know Onyx is going to be in both War Games and UtH. Lemme back up a bit further and add 'Tec #794-795 for the context.
Step -7: Wow this L'Shea lady seems like a badass - wait what does she mean Batman delivered her baby?? I'd better go back a bit further to 'Tec #791-793 to find out!!! :D
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LIKE IT'S SO DANGEROUS, I want to read one thing and it spirals and spirals and every time I cross a few issues off my list I end up adding like 5-10 more that are clearly very necessary, and the to-be-read list just keeps ballooning.
....I love it, though. Comics are fun.
#it's such a mess every character is such a mess it's so entertaining#the DRAMA#dcu#meanwhile I'm also skipping around to various in-progress chronological read-through points#one of which is in Aftershock post-Cataclysm#and another of which just wrapped up the Gotham Knights Transference arc#oh and I also did Joker's Last Laugh about a week ago which was interesting#(Bruce's complete non-reaction to Tim's apparent death was ????)#(alternatively did he take one look at that skeleton and realize it wasn't Tim's and then just NOT TELL ANYBODY ELSE??? BRUCE PLS)#post tag#comics reading tag
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*my eyes burst open w a flash of light*
SEVIKA
Yadda yadda yadda jinx is generally seen as a loose canon, does whatever she wants type of character, totally unpredictable. When in actuality, up until the last few episodes all of her choices and actions r motivated by wanting to please someone else. Hell. Even in the last couple episodes, the very Last thing we see her doing is ENTIRELY MOTIVATED by devotion and love and grief for silco, she’s taking out her frustration at herself and the world, and also honoring his wishes and dreams. By shooting a fucking bomb at piltover, she’s ensuring his life wasn’t in vain, she’s honoring him. In that moment
Her entire, self!!! is centered around love and loyalty. Is centered around other people, She’s motivated by an insatiable urge to prove herself, to be useful to those she loves, to show that she can help them and be there for them and be WORTHY of there love. That they haven’t made a mistake in loving her. To prove that she can be as pivotal to them as they r for her. She goes to the ends of the fucking earth to do this. And it ends. Terribly.
She puts the people she loves on pedestals and supplicates at there feet, she has no motivations most of the show outside of making the people she loves happy… she yearns for connection and love and safety. For a home that will never leave her behind, or crumble under her feet, (an indestructible home, That she can’t destroy just by being her…)
Which is why.. it’s so. Interesting and intriguing. How now, she has no one on that pedestal to worship, no one to drag sacrifices and offerings to the feet of, no one to spiral around and build herself off of. She is a person so *affected* by her relationships w others, but there is no relationship now, no one is stepping up to the plate to love her. She’s too much. For anyone. The one person who seemed to have unlimited patience for her is dead, because of her. and maybe vi could still love her.. but. She’s already soured that relationship. Already broken that one too. Broken all her favorite toys that made her so happy. That were there for her. And scared all the rest away. (There is a limit to what vi can support and forgive to reconnect w her sister. And I believe terrorism is crossing that limit ghgh)
And maybe, jinx is cutting that part of herself out on purpose. To be stronger, she’s realized she just. Isn’t made for love. That she ruins it all in the end. That it just makes everything worse. Messier. More complicated. She’s better off on her own, but for what PURPOSE! Who will she be now! What choices will she make!?! Almost all of her actions in the show were for others, what is driving her now, now that she has this gaping void at the center of her being. Where love used to be… what kind of person will she become, Without a guide to follow… a sun to orbit around. it’s sad honestly ghghg-!!! like yeah it’s not healthy that she is this way but there’s no THERAPY IN ARCANE. THIS IS THE WAY SHE IS! And now. She’s alone… it’s rough. But also intriguing…!! And I honestly have no clue how she’s gonna act in season 2,,, or what sorta shit she’s gonna get up to. but I’m excited.
#I have just watched the newest teaser.. omg. she built Sevikas new arm#Sevika is defending her… jinx probably tried giving her the arm and Sevika lashed out and that made jinx upset and she ran away#but then Sevika felt bad and came to hELP HER SEVIKA#SEVIKA I WAS NOT SURE IF U WERE GOING TO BE ON JINXS SIDE OR NOT SINCE#jinx does not rlly have a SIDE per say honestly!!! she is just fumbling her way thru this world one explosion at a time#and I thought u might be mad at her cuz of the whole silco thing. but OMG SEVIKA#SEVIKA AND JINX…. Sevika hardened badass w a heart of gold actually…#cannot help herself from looking out for this runt. even if itd be easier to leave her on her own to sort her own shit out#like… ghghg I love Sevika pls I hope the season actually has so much Sevika and jinx yessss. yes!!! ha ha ha!!! yes!!!!!!#Srry for hijacking my jinx mental health post for reactions to the new teaser but I was! excited!!!#I wanted to talk about it and I thought it’d be funny to add it onto this post lol#arcane#pepper words#sevika#jinx#also omg watching those fucking steampunk Victorian England chucklefucks try to mess w jinx#the violence I felt within me… like… I kno she’s a badass murderer who can kill ppl so good. but like.. seeing those guys hurt her#rage…. rage inside me. who the fuck do u think u are. die#ghghgh like I got SO protective watching that like how fucking dare anyone ever hurt a single hair on this girls head she’s WOBDERFUL#ok????#alright anyway… there’s my thoughts on that teaser lol. I’m excited for Sevika and jinx interactions :)#(jinx building sevikas new arm and getting rejected and that being why she’s crying isn’t confirmed but it MAKES SENSE!! ok!#I would like if that’s what happened so I believe that that is the case ghghg- if it turns out I’m wrong then! whatever lol)#I think if jinx is actively terrorizing u or society u r allowed to beat her up I can give ppl a pass on that#cuz sometimes… u kno.. sometimes she does do that! and ppl have a right to defend themselves / there homes#but those motherfuckers we’re on her for NOTHING! she was just running down the street upset!! I draw the line at that u#if u haven’t been personally victimized by jinx u aren’t allowed to hurt her ghgh-#this addition is in regards to my anger at the Victorian England chucklefucks lol#I think it might be more accurate to say I wasn’t sure if JINX was going to be on SEVIKAS side… honestly. rather than the other way around#ALSO B4 I RUN OUT OF TAGS. I actually think she’s probably crying cuz she ran into fucking VI AND THE ENFORCERS B4 not cuz of Sevika!
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AND THEN THERE WERE THREE…
NOTES — just saw challengers today and absolutely needed to write smth for these two! only used a gif of art because theres none of the two of them and almost none for patrick </3, i’m a little rusty with smut so bare with me
WARNINGS — 18+ content mdni, slight challengers 2024 spoilers, fem!reader, kinda dom!art, pure smut/little plot, art/patrick interactions, talk of previous art/patrick sexual encounters, spit play, oral (m receiving), tit sucking, dirty talk, mentions of anal, little bit of aftercare, not proofread, lmk if i forgot anything!
REQUEST — Pls write a smut fic with reader and Art fucking in the hotel room (with Patrick watching) and reader asking if Patrick can join them and ofc Art can’t say no because he finds the idea of this super hot. Maybe reader makes Art and Patrick make out like in the movie 👀
WORD COUNT — 1.6k
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None of you were too sure how exactly this had started. You, Art, and Patrick had stumbled back into their hotel room after leaving the beach, each of you finding your own place to sit after Patrick opened up a beer, took a swig, and passed the can to you. You’d taken a seat closer to Art, having naturally gravitated towards him more so than Patrick. And quickly, you and Art were making out, leaving Patrick to watch.
You blamed the beer. And the fact that you found both Art and Patrick incredibly hot. One minute you’re at a party, dedicated to your best friend, Tashi Duncan, and the next you’re sitting on the beach being invited back to the guys’ hotel room, and the next after that, Art is stripping you of your clothes while Patrick takes a seat leaned up against the wall opposite the foot of the bed.
“Can I-” He begins, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt, desperation clear in his eyes. At your nod, Art quickly yanks your shirt over your head and immediately pulls your body flush against his. He’s planting soft, wet kisses up and down your neck as his fingers work the back of your bra. His eyes widen the moment it drops to the ground.
Giving you a moment's glance he quickly sucks one nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking and biting. Feeling as though he’s neglected the other one, he pinches and tugs on the opposite nipple, smiling around the one in his mouth at the moans you let out.
“Yeah, baby? You like this? Me with your tits in my mouth and my best friend jerking off while watching us?”
For a moment, you’d forgotten about Patrick. Your eyes shoot open, landing on him instantly. The sight of him, slouched against the wall, his hand already wrapped around his cock, with his eyes fixated on both you and Art. He looked so hot, you weren’t sure how you’d forgotten that he was even there.
“Mhm, ‘s hot.” you admitted, turning Arts face back to you, tugging his bottom lip back into your mouth. The blond pushes you back onto the beds that were pushed together - Patrick’s idea if anyone were to ask - and begins kissing up your stomach only stopping long enough to kiss each of your nipples. He grabs your face, pushing his fingers into your cheeks, making you open your mouth, before letting a large glob of spit fall from his mouth into yours.
“Swallow.” He smiles when you do so without complaint, even going as far as to look as if you wanted him to do it again.
Patrick moans at that, louder than before. Sure he and Art had messed around before, when they were both single and bored and needed a good fuck, that wasn’t new, but hearing that commanding tone in the blonds voice sent a shiver down his spine.
“God, that was hot.” Patrick sighs, laughing when Art gives him the finger.
“Fuck off, Patrick.” Both of them know he doesn’t mean it, if he wasn’t wanted there, you or Art would’ve said something, but you didn’t. whether Art knew it or not, both you and he wanted him to stay, and keep watching.
At some point during that interaction, you weren’t sure when exactly, Art had shed his pants and underwear. He was dragging the tip up and down your slit, up and down, stopping every few seconds to slap your clit with it. When your eyes finally landed on his length, it made your jaw drop. He was big, bigger than you’d seen before, he was long and girthy with veins running along the bottom of it.
He slowly slides into you, admiring the look of pure bliss on your face. He’d never seen anyone look so angelic. The closest comparison he could make was how Patrick looked when he’d first given him a blow job. He wouldn’t call the look on Patrick's face angelic perse, but it was hot, really hot. The reminder of that, and the way you’ve begun clenching around him, spurs him into you. His hips snapping into yours, his heavy balls hitting your ass with each thrust. It was unlike anything either of you had felt before.
I want him to join.
You weren’t sure that the words had actually left your mouth until the blond on top of you stopped his thrusts, looking into your eyes for a moment.
“That what you want, baby?” He murmurs, kissing sloppily up and down your neck, shivers running through your entire body at his touch. His fingers falling to your clit, flicking at it. The pleasure was almost enough to make you forget that he’d even asked a question.
Almost.
“Please,” Even in your fucked out state, you couldn’t help but want more.
“Come on, Zweig. You heard her.” Patrick grins, hopping to his feet, although slightly hesitant. He wasn’t sure where to go, or what to do. But his nerves dissolved the moment Art turned around, and gave him that look, one that he knew meant that everything would be okay. It meant that he just needed to get over himself and have a good time, everything would work out. After that he’s on the move towards you, giving Art a harsh slap to the ass as he goes past him, laughing when Art swats back at him.
Patrick all but flies onto the bed, having kicked his underwear off the moment he stood up, and his shirt is long gone, a mix of yours, his, and Arts clothes are scattered around the hotel room, sure to have lost at least one thing. But none of you had it in you to care, too overwhelmed with pleasure. Your mouth opens before he’s even fully on the bed, but he gets the message, quickly positioning his tip in front of your mouth, thrusting a few times before losing control and fucking your throat.
The three of you move in tandem for minutes, or maybe it was hours, Art would thrust into you, rubbing your clit with his fingers, while Patrick would be pulling himself out of your mouth at the same time. It felt as though this was a regular occurrence, as though it were normal. And god did you hope it would become a normal thing. The three of you, together, making each other feel good.
Tapping Patricks thigh lightly, you hum happily when he pulls out of your mouth, giggling at how quickly he begins to check and make sure you’re okay.
“What? What’s wrong? Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” The words come out of his mouth at lightning speed and it’s difficult for you to understand, but Art had and his thrusts slowed to a stop, hands leaving your body, giving you a questioning look as if repeating everything his friend had just said.
“I’m fine baby,” And then you say something neither of them could quite hear.
“Gotta speak up for us, sweetheart. Can’t do what you want us to do otherwise.” That comes from Patrick, Art nodding along with him.
“Want you two to kiss.” The words fly out of your lips and you’re suddenly shy, pressing your face into Patricks thigh, nipping at it softly.
Both men smirk at you before making eye contact with each other, giving a subtle nod.
“Well c’mon man, you know how I like it.”
The combination of Arts words, his sudden thrusts and Patrick taking it upon himself to flick at your clit, push you over the edge. The power of your orgasm makes your legs shake, your mind empty of anything this isn’t you, Patrick, or Art.
They’re still kissing, it’s all teeth and tongue and spit. It’s messy, and it only stops long enough for Arts mouth to fall open, moans spilling out as he comes inside of you, hot spurts of his come flooding your insides, leaving a white ring around the base of his cock as he fucks you through both of your orgasms.
At this point, Patrick has taken a step back, and is watching again. He’s stroking himself with one hand, squeezing just right and out of nowhere, Art reaches out, cupping the dark haired man's balls, tugging and rubbing on them just the way Patrick likes. The added pleasure sends him crashing over the edge, he barely has the time to move and aim his cum to where you and Art are connected, spilling himself all over your cunt and Arts cock.
Art pulls out and the three of you fall into a pile of heavy breathing, sweat, spit, and cum on the beds pushed into the middle of the room. Once you all catch your breath, Patrick is the first to speak.
“Wow.” It was simple, but it made you all burst out laughing.
“Wow, indeed.” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his pec, turning to do the same to Art.
“That was fucking hot.” Arts words make you all giggle yet again.
“Okay,” Patrick leans you into Art and pushes himself off of the bed, “‘m gonna get you two cleaned up, be right back.” He reassures you, hearing you whine at losing his presence. He comes back with a warm washcloth in hand, and a small cup of water in his other. He hands the water to Art motioning for him to take a drink and then give you some as well, while he bends at the waist, resting his knees on the floor and taking the cloth to your core, cleaning you as gently as he could before moving onto Art. Tossing the cloth to the corner of the room he pulls both you and Art into his embrace, enjoying the quiet for a moment before you break the silence.
“Round two? Whoever makes me cum harder gets to fuck me here first.” You smile slyly, placing your hand on your ass, giggling when Patrick snatches you from Arts hold, muttering something about how he ‘got you first last time and that it’s his turn now.’
#◜ caitee’𝗌 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗄𝗌 ✎ ˚✧ ꜝ#challengers#art donaldson#patrick zweig#challengers x reader#challengers imagine#challengers smut#challengers x you#art donaldson x reader#art donaldson imagine#art donaldson smut#patrick zweig x reader#patrick zweig imagine#patrick zweig smut#mike faist x reader#mike faist smut#josh o’connor x reader#josh o’connor smut#dividers by cafekitsune
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ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY
pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.
♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)
track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen
(winter — age 17)
“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”
it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember.
you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers.
“vi?”
“....yes?”
“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”
vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.
you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.
“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.”
“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.”
you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control.
neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.
“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”
“i remember. you…you must miss her.”
of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.
“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.
you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”
“your mom going, too?”
“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”
vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top.
she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you.
“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”
you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips.
“why’s that?” you ask.
there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go.
vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins.
vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.
“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.
“yeah?”
vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being.
“i want that too.”
vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.
you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults.
you taste like home.
….
so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.
merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.
….
track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love
(winter — age 12)
you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’
when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world.
“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”
you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.
“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”
you nod, smiling. “ekko!”
your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them.
you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.
…..
hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.
i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.
…..
track 3: last christmas by wham!
(winter — now)
vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac:
no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.
it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.
so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —
vi’s heading back home, back to you.
she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.
powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.
your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work.
it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor.
vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:
“violet? is that you?”
she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.
“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs.
she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do.
vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party.
with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke.
“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”
vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways.
so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow.
“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”
“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”
“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”
the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.
“of course,” vi says.
vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out:
“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”
you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.
“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”
vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.
“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”
“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”
“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi.
“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.
“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”
“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”
layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.
and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with.
when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.
“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you.
“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.”
you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.
“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”
“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws.
“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….”
the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time.
“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?”
she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.
you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”
vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again.
so, you do remember.
she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —
“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’
vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years.
“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue.
“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.
“sure, but it ends hopefully.”
“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure?
“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”
“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses.
by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave.
you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.
“not all of them.”
“yeah? which ones haven’t?”
vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”
you blink away and cut the engine.
….
you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating.
he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.
should be fun.
it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.
you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.
“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision.
then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try.
“you know powder’s graduating this year?”
“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision.
vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.
it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.
except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.
vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely.
“hey. you still with me?”
you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.
…..
when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed.
a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.
vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.
“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.”
“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”
“oh, i know it.”
a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.
“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”
ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”
“i didn’t.”
“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”
“sure.”
“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…”
“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”
“convincing her to go.”
“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”
“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge.
vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.
“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.”
a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you.
vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.
but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.
and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.
….
baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.
please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please.
it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice.
….
track 4: river by joni mitchell
(winter — age 23)
it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd.
more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand.
“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock.
a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth.
“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you.
you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).
“me neither,” you smile.
vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.
she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.
you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace.
“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”
the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.
you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you.
instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.
there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out.
“wait, what the fu —”
you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.
“please, baby, let me explain —”
“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”
“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”
“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”
“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”
you stare at her, then start to laugh.
“please tell me you’re joking.”
“i’m not.”
“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —”
“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?”
“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”
“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”
“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”
“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”
as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying.
you take a deep, shaky breath.
“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”
vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.
…..
vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry.
please come home.
…..
track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton
(winter — now)
karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21.
you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house.
which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.
right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’
about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass.
“you remember.”
“are you surprised?”
vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.”
something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”
that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be.
vi’s soft blue eyes search yours.
“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”
you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’
you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.
as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.
“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”
“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.
“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.
you rip away from his grasp.
“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”
“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —”
“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”
“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder.
oh, fuck no.
“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”
james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor.
james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego.
in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.
you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again.
you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.
“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you.
somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact.
you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.
“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.
vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”
a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.
she remembers.
somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.
“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.
vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks.
you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”
vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”
while i’ve been away.
the reminder feels like a stab to the heart.
vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time.
her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.
“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”
“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to.
you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”
“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”
“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.”
“you were my dream.”
you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”
“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”
it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.
“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again.
“you’re still bleeding.”
vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work.
you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door.
logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….
you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying.
so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.
she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear.
“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”
“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”
vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.
you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.
“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”
“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”
you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear.
“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”
you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her.
“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl.
you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.
“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.
her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes.
“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.
“yes. please.”
you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.
vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake.
“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi. “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”
vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.
you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.
“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek.
you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away.
there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone.
but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move.
"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.
vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."
you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath.
you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.
"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs.
all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin.
unacceptable.
the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.
with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."
vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.
"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."
at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head.
with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open."
vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.
you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.
removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”
“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.
"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."
vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer.
“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit. you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple.
“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.
she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.
vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess.
strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving.
you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.
….
vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream.
she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.
instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers.
“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another.
“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.
you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.
“shit, i — did you want some?”
you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”
vi nods.
okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash.
it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before.
“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?”
you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand.
“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”
your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:
“i do.”
vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday.
“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”
you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back.
“ekko talked to you, huh?”
“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”
“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.”
“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling.
“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”
vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours.
“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.”
“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?
“anything.��
“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”
“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”
“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”
vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.”
you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.
“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”
you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.
“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”
“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round. “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.”
“sounds like a plan,” you smile.
the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.
you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:
“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”
beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder.
she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye.
“i better go.”
“....yeah.”
you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room.
the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later.
you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.
"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.
you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”
....
hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..
anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s.
i’ll see you later. love you!
#hope y'all had great holidays + + happy new year!!!#again i wasn't sure if i should post this bc it is VERY late#but i guess better late than never!!#my plan is to either work on that werewolf!vi au or spiderverse!vi au now#except rockstar vi still has a chokehold on me#so i think i might just write something along those lines but we'll see#saf writes#arcane#vi arcane smut#vi arcane#vi arcane x reader#arcane x reader#arcane smut#vi smut#vi x reader#vi fanfic#vi#vi league of legends#lesbian#wlw smut#wlw fanfic#vi fluff
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don’t you want me | boyfriend!steve x reader x eddie
content & context: you and steve are tasked with checking in on eddie while he’s hiding out at reefer rick’s.
mentions of drugs & all parties smoke, virgin!eddie, eddie gets caught masturbating by reader and steve, oral (all receiving and giving), steve accidentally initiates oral with eddie (makes sense i promise), fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, steve!breeding kink, cum play, cum swapping. everyone’s a lil fruity! reader is kinda just passed around!! **emphasizing that there are sexual interactions between steve and eddie!**
she/her pronouns used for reader!
author’s note: ... i can't believe this is finally getting posted but here we are! its been ages in the making and i'm so glad to finally have it out there. if i missed something during editing pls let me know! <3
word count: 8.4k - i added plot to this one!
If you thought Steve complained about being the babysitter, you should hear the way he complains about being Eddie’s caretaker.
In all honesty, he still wasn’t quite sure that Eddie was completely innocent in all this mess. Was he a killer? Probably not. That doesn’t mean he wants to hang around the guy, let alone have you hang around him.
He’s protective, that’s all.
The grocery sacks hit the floor of the kitchen while Steve shoves the case of beer into an empty spot on the counter. He’s pensively looking around the house, a grimace on his features as he takes in your... Questionable surroundings. Empty cans of food, question sticky spots on the floor, a disgusting bong on the table sat next to McDonalds wrappers.
“Now how the hell did Munson get his hands on a Big Mac but we’re still stuck doing supply drops?” Steve’s scoffing to himself, finally looking around the room to realize - “Wait a minute. Where the hell is he?”
It’s instinct. Within seconds of acknowledging that there might be a problem here, you’re back to back with Steve while the two of you scan the room. Looking for any signs of life or, well, death. You both hone in on a sound coming from behind the door at the end of the hallway. Exchanging a quick glance before he’s looking for a weapon - Grabbing a hold of the bong to use as a weapon. You however? Decide to settle for one of the knifes on the table which Steve thinks makes much more sense but he’s already committed to this damn bong now.
The door’s barely cracked open and as the two of you get closer you can begin to hear Heaven’s On Fire by KISS playing faintly on the radio. Considering how tense Eddie’s been lately, you’re surprised he’s being this... Sloppy?
you drive me crazy when you start to tease
You’re peeking over Steve’s shoulder, hand instantly coming to clamp over your mouth at the sight in front of you two.
you could bring the devil to his knees
Eddie Munson’s laying back on the bed, boots planted firmly on the ground, his jeans and briefs shimmied just far enough down his thighs to free his length. He’s hard, untouched, and you’re salivating at the sight. You and Steve stand there for a second longer than you should, both of you shocked at the sight. It’s not until Eddie wraps his fist around himself, lifting his hips off the bed at his own touch and letting out a quiet moan that Steve finally breaks -
“Holy shit.”
No one knows who reacts first but within seconds Eddie’s trying to cover himself up at the same time you’re reaching past Steve to pull the bedroom door closed. You’re trying to process what you just saw, mind only able to hyper focus on the fact that he looked... No, stop. You can’t let your mind wonder like this.
“Jesus Christ! Don’t you people knock!” Eddie shrieks on the other side.
You look over at your flabbergasted boyfriend who’s punching the air and cursing Dustin Henderson for getting involved with this Freak. If you look close enough, you can see the flush to his cheeks. “C’mon, Man. Maybe consider not jacking off while you’re on the run for murder, huh? Especially when you have people running around getting you shitty Pabst and Doritos!”
The door’s being jerked open and Eddie looks so frazzled. A far cry from the man who was just sprawled out in bed touching himself.
He has a finger pointed in Steve’s face, “A murder I did not commit! So excuse me for trying to blow off some steam while I thought I was alone. If you’re so concerned then I’ll be sure to clear it with you next time, Harrington.” His hair is a crazy mess, shirt haphazardly tucked into his pants, and his belt unbuckled. You can’t help but spare a thought towards how pretty he looks. If Eddie would meet your eye, you’d have to look away considering just how embarrassing your thoughts were getting about him. But, in fact, the boy refuses to glance in your direction.
You turn on your heels, dragging Steve behind you in an attempt to avoid them getting into even more of a fight. Storing the fact that Eddie Munson has a pretty dick away for later. “C’mon, Idiots. I’ll cook dinner if you two can play nice for a few hours. Eddie wash your hands and zip up your fly before you come in here.”
The song continues as you walk down the hallway. Giggling to yourself and sneaking looks over at your still flabbergasted boyfriend.
feel my heat takin' you higher.
burn with me, heaven's on fire.
paint the sky with desire.
✧・゚:*-*:・゚✧
Eddie watches as you two navigate cleaning up the kitchen in almost perfect sync. His hand on your lower back when he brings the rest of the dishes to you, the way he takes notice of your sleeve falling down your arm and rolls it up for you, then you have the audacity to sing along to Steve’s favorite lyrics as the songs shuffle through on the radio.
He’s taken to sitting on the couch during clean up, citing his “impending doom” as the reason why he can’t help. Really, Eddie’s not sure how much more of the love birds act he can take before his carefully curated facade finally breaks. It wasn’t that you two were being over the top with the displays of affection, quite the opposite actually. If anything, it was toned down from the normal levels you showed around everyone else.
It’s just the fact that it’s real that’s driving him crazy. Cursing every day he spent without someone who loved him that deeply.
Once the kitchen is cleaner than it likely has ever been, you and Steve wonder out of the room and finally join Eddie. Steve’s grabbing the packed bowl left on the coffee table along with the lighter, sitting back in the recliner while you perch yourself on the arm of the chair. Trying to balance yourself carefully. You watch as Steve takes a long hit, holding the smoke before holding the bowl towards you. Glancing from him to the slouched figure on the couch, “Can we spend the night with you?”
Eddie’s shrugging, grumbling out “’Ight with me but there’s not many blankets around this place that ain’t filled with holes.”
Nodding, more towards yourself than him, you lean forward to trap the piece between your lips and Steve brings the lighter up to the bowl.
You’re coughing.
Like, way more than normal.
Steve’s quickly pushing out of the chair, grabbing one of the last wine coolers for you and popping it’s top with ease before bringing it back to you. There’s a reassuring hand rubbing over your back as you work your way through your coughing fit. Cheeks burning hot with embarrassment that one little hit nearly took you out in front of Eddie Munson.
“S’good shit, Honey. No surprise you can barely take it.” You’re giving Steve an appreciative smile as Eddie teases you, leaning into his touch for a bit of comfort. “Should be this good considering it’s been the talk of Hawkin’s that you’re raising your prices on us, Munson.”
Eddie’s got his hands up in the air, his bright laughter filling up the room before he’s reaching out for the bowl Steve’s offering. “Hey, a man had to eat, y’know? Now a man’s gotta pay bail... Prices are gonna triple after this.”
When Steve’s assured you’re not going to pass out, he’s going back to the table and grabbing two cans of out the lukewarm Pabst case. One’s being slid over to Eddie while Steve grabs his keys out of his pocket to begin the base of the can to chug.
It’s some weird power play you’re pretty sure. Asserting dominance with who can chug the fastest. Eddie’s quick to follow suit, using his pocket knife to carve out his own hole..
Now you just need to figure out why it’s kind of.. Hot?
You watch as Steve and Eddie cheers their punctured cans against one another, both of them giving the other a small nod then they’re throwing their heads back, popping the tab, and chugging the beer out of the can. It’s entertaining, this dumb grin plastered on your face. The weed in your system is probably making this feel like a much more endearing sight than it actually is. They both drop the cans once they finish, an argument ensuing as they try to decide who finished first.
“I’ve never shotgunned a beer.”
Suddenly there’s a lot of attention on you. Steve’s confused, Eddie’s entertained.
“King Steve Harrington’s girlfriend has never chugged a beer? Surprised he hasn’t corrupted you already.” Steve’s hitting his arm, giving the other boy a playful shove before grabbing a can out of the case and tossing it your way.
“You wanna learn, Honey? I’ll teach you.” Spoken so sweetly. Steve’s voice always laced with this delicate tone reserved just for you.
He’s standing behind you now, chest firm against your back and holding the can properly in your hands. Steve’s digging a hole with his keys into the side of your can, his chin on your shoulder as he concentrates on making it a clean cut. “All you gotta do is tilt your head back, okay? I’ll pop the tab. Don’t feel like you gotta finish it.”
You nod obediently, freeing one of your fingers from it’s death grip on the can to flip Eddie off. He’s laughing, grabbing the forgotten bowl from the table and getting to work repacking it. Part of you wonders what Rick would think of Eddie using so much of his stash. Then again, it’s not like it’s going to be much use to Rick for the next few years.
The can’s brought up to your mouth, tilting your head back against Steve as he keeps his promise and opens the tab once your lips wrap over the hole. There’s beer dripping from the corner of your mouth, down your chin and neck, and you’re quickly reminded that you hate the taste of beer. Especially cheap beer. But you’re putting on a show so you’re committed to finishing it.
Steve grabs a hold of your chin as the now empty can clatters to the ground, your lips colliding quickly and he wastes no time licking into your mouth. He tasted like a mixture of weed, more cheap beer, and underlying hints of his spearmint gum. You’re giving an appreciative moan as his hand slips from your chin to cup the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.
Now, Eddie knows he should look away. He’s intruding on a personal moment, right? But there’s just something about the way that you and Steve interact that’s so addicting to him. It’s clear you’ve spent hours memorizing one another, learning what makes the other tick. There’s a sad thought that passes through his mind registering that there’s no way he’ll ever get to have a connection that intense. Even before the, you know, murderer from another dimension ruined his life. Eddie was a lot. He liked being a lot. He never found a girl who liked him being a lot and for a long time he was fine with pretending it didn’t bother him.
Then the picture of true love showed up to this damn house hours ago and he’s begun aching to feel even a tenth of that amount of passion.
He’s lighting up the bowl, finally forcing himself to look away while taking another long hit.
Your hands are firm on Steve’s chest, fisting around the soft material of his shirt and gently shoving him back. “Enough. Eddie doesn’t want to just sit around watching you devour me all night” He’s giving you a dopey grin, the hand not on the back of your neck coming up so he can use his thumb to swipe away the saliva shining on your lips.
“Munson gets it. Sometimes you just can’t help yourself, right?”
Steve’s looking over to Eddie for approval but he won’t look at either of you. Exhaling a stream of smoke from his last hit before responding.
“Nah, man. The Freak title excludes any and all sexual connotations. Made out with Elizabeth Hertz last year but that was just because she wanted free weed. Gareth kissed me after a show because he was drunk off adrenaline. Don’t really count him on the list of conquests though.” He’s blaming the high inching it’s way through his body, but for some reason he wanted to make it known that he’ll happily kiss boys too. In fact, Eddie Munson will pretty much kiss anyone who wants to kiss him.
“Huh.”
It comes out so quickly and you can stop yourself, both boys now looking your way. You give a little shrug, leaning into Steve as you respond. “Just surprised, that’s all. You’re pretty, figured someone would have thrown themselves at you by now.”
Eddie’s blushing at your compliment. Honest to God, cheeks turning pink blushing. He’s throwing a wink your way while trying to downplay how much the compliment got to him.
“Wish everyone felt that way, Sweetheart.”
You’re looking up at Steve now who just knows what’s coming next.
✧・゚:*-*:・゚✧
The two of you had talked before about including someone else. You both liked girls, that came up pretty quick. Robin asked you to play fuck, marry, kill one night while you sat around at Family Video during your shift. The way you drooled over Faye Dunaway gave you away pretty quickly.
Then, late one night, Steve was a little drunk and half asleep when he asked you what it felt like to kiss a boy. You said it was firmer, that their lips were rougher. But that kissing him made you feel safe and loved, though that wasn’t the norm.
“Kinda wanna kiss a boy the same way you wanna kiss girls. Quickly followed by, “Happy if I spend the rest of my life only kissing you though. Just something I wouldn’t mind happening.”
You just laugh while pulling his sweaty party clothes off of his body, tossing them across the room to deal with tomorrow.
“You wanna kiss a boy, huh? Well, I’m sure we can make that happen.”
✧・゚:*-*:・゚✧
“So - Is that like a thing then? Making out with you in exchange for free weed? Because in that case, you’ve been smoking me and Steve out all night. Pretty sure that means we’ve got a great debt to pay.”
Eddie can strike the idea down. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did. Mere hours ago you weren’t fully sure if Eddie was a killer and you weren’t fully sure that Steve wouldn’t kill Eddie. He’s toying with the rip in his jeans over his knee, looking over the two of you as if he’s trying to decide if this is real or not.
“You and Steve…” He’s dragging out your names, almost as though he were testing out how they taste on his tongue. You and Steve.
You’re looking back to get confirmation from Steve who’s nothing more than entertained. You’re stepping towards Eddie now, slow enough where anyone can stop you yet not surprised neither of them do. He’s not taking his eyes off of you and you can see his breathing pick up as you get closer. Your knees are sinking into the couch beside him, kneeling into the cushions and reaching over to rest your hand on his upper thigh. Giving him a small squeeze and his muscle twitches in response to the touch.
“Do you wanna kiss me, Eddie? Kiss us?”
His breathing cuts off completely, and if you weren’t paying such close attention to his face you would have caught the way his hand goes from playing with the rip to actually pinching himself on his thigh. There’s no way this is real. Eddie’s nodding a little too eagerly, his cool guy facade falling apart. You lean forward, the smell of your perfume ever so faint but taking over his brain, to grab his hand. Dragging it up your own chest, along the curve of your breast, bringing his hand around the front of your throat, finally directing him to cup the back of your throat instead.
“Then kiss me.”
Eddie’s risking a glance over to Steve as he tightens his grip on your neck, half expecting to see the other boy with his fist cocked back, ready to swing and fight for you.
He’s not though.
Just giving a small shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite down his entertained grin. You always got what you wanted, Steve’s just surprised it’s Eddie you want. He can’t blame you. Maybe it’s the mood set by the two year old Christmas lights that Rick never takes down illuminating the room, the buzz vibrating throughout your bodies, or the way Eddie keeps looking between you with those wide brown eyes... Something about the situation has Steve understanding the way you feel.
Your hands are on Eddie’s chest now, fisting around the material as you lean in to ghost your lips against his. “Are you gonna make me ask again?” His fingers are twitching on the back of your neck, tightening his grip before finally connecting your lips together. The kiss is timid at first, you can feel the nerves practically rolling off of his body, so you take it upon yourself to take the lead.
Eddie’s moaning into your mouth when he feels your tongue swipe along his bottom lip. He’s licking over his own lip, savoring the taste of Pabst, weed, and the sickly sweet taste of wine coolers you’d been sipping on all night. Somewhere buried under all that, there’s the taste of just you. His tongue slips between your parted lips, licking into your mouth and giving an appreciative moan once again. You delight in just how vocal he’s being.
The couch’s dipping beside you, Steve settling back into the cushions to get a better view. His hand is low on your back, sliding down to knead at the flesh of your ass as you and Eddie settle into a rhythm. You can tell he’s inexperience and it’s endearing to say the least.
Your hand cups over the bulge in Eddie’s lap, rubbing along his growing length as he moans into your mouth. “Wanna see you, Baby. Is that okay?” His jaw goes slack, risking a glance over to Steve for approval. He’s just shrugging it off, his own hand coming to palm over his jeans as he mimics your motions on Eddie. “Whatever my girl wants, she gets.”
Eddie’s trying to process everything going on and it takes a moment for him to respond. Finally giving an unsteady nod to the room before looking back to you and God you can tell he’s nervous. His hands are on the back of your arms now as he mindlessly rubs up and down them, trying to keep himself grounded in the moment. “Then, uh, yeah. Yeah, that’ll be.... Good.”
Without much more convincing you get to work undoing his belt buckle. Unlatching the cold metal before giving it a firm tug, Eddie arching his hips up in order to help you remove it from his body. You pitch it under his arm and you feel his body jerk at the sudden sound. If you weren’t careful the mood could go sour quick due to the reminder of why you’re all here in the first place.
“So no one has ever touched you before? Just me?” Eddie nods enthusiastically as you unbutton his jeans, his breath hitching when he hears the sound of his zipper being pulled down. “Just you, Princess. Kinda scared, fuck, that I’m not gonna last that long if we’re being honest.” You’re giggling at the admission and Eddie’s thanking every star in the galaxy that he took the time to actually shower and change into clean clothes when you guys showed up.
The room fills with the sounds of both of you moaning when you finally slip your hand into Eddie’s boxers and feel his length against your hand. He’s gripping the back of your arms now, the circuit he’s been running this whole time, as he whimpers and rocks up to your touch. You make quick work of tugging his jeans and boxes down just enough to free him from his clothes. Marveling at the sight of him erect and desperate.
You wrap your hand around the base, giving him an experiment dry tug. Eddie’s head falls back against the wall as he moans out a string of profanities. His mind has to drift off to focus on anything but your touch or he’s going to finish from just one brush of your hand. You’re proud of yourself, giving him another flick of your wrist before letting him go. You start to push off the couch, standing up and pulling your shirt off of your overheated frame. Making quick work of your bra before tossing the both of them into the corner.
Eddie’s thankful for the break but he’s so hard that it fucking hurts. The sight of you topless in front of them is not helping his cause.
Steve’s eyes are on you as you reach over to him. He’s entertained and you can tell he’s hard in his tight jeans. You hold your hand out under his mouth, “Can you spit in my hand, Baby?” Steve grabs a hold of your wrist and does as he is told. Licking a strip down your fingers before spitting into your hand. He’s giving your wrist a squeeze before pushing your hand back towards Eddie.
You fall to your knees in between Eddie's legs and go right back to wrapping your wrist around him, lazily dragging your fist around him. Eddie’s clinging to you as you take your time exploring him, smiling down at the boy. “You’re longer than Steve. Not as thick but you’re long. Such a pretty cock, Eddie. Thank you for letting me take care of you tonight.”
He can barely even get his thoughts together fast enough to respond before you start shuffling off of his lap. Hand still firmly around his length as you settle on your knees between his legs. Eddie finally looks down at you and there could be angel wings coming from your back as far as he's concerned considering what a heavenly sight you make.
"Can I taste you, Eddie?" You're hamming it up for him. Batting your eyelashes and pouting. Something straight out of a porno, all for him.
It's odd - Steve feels almost... Proud? Maybe that's not the best word for describing watching your girlfriend suck someone else's dick but it's the best one he can find. You gorgeous in this lighting, you're being playful, and hell it's practically charity work. Taking this poor guy's virginity as a treat while his world is falling apart. It's admirable, really.
Eddie's frantically nodding while he twitches under your touch. Reaching down to try and shimmy his pants further down his legs so you have a better angle. "Darlin', you can do fucking anything to me. Don't have to ask anymore, okay? I appreciate but whatever you want is fine by me."
You grin up at him and lean closer, sticking your tongue out and keeping eye contact while tapping the head of his cock against your tongue. There's saliva dripping off your tongue and onto him, running down the sides of your length until it meets your fist. You're leaning in to wrap your lips around the head of him. Giving an appreciative hum before sinking down further around him.
Steve's taught you well. He's laid back and let you 'practice' sucking him off for hours at this point. His fingers laced behind his head while you get your throat used to taking him further and further. Sometimes he feels bad taking up all the attention and has you straddle his face to return the favor while you suck him off.
All that training and Eddie gets to reap the rewards.
It's easy for you to build up a stead pace. Tongue swirling his tip and using your hand to jack off his exposed length before you take him back into his mouth. Your other hand comes up to cup the weight his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze as you work.
Eddie’s bucking up his length deeper into your throat, causing you to gag around the sudden intrusion. “Gotta chill out, Munson.” He’s storing away the fact that Steve Harrington chastising him makes his cock twitch in your mouth. Something about a pretty boy being firm gets under his skin.
“Shit, my bad, Sweetheart. Just felt too fucking good.”
Steve's scooting closer to you both while the old, thrifted and worn couch makes creaking sounds under him. He's taking your hand that isn't currently occupied with Eddie and putting it on the front of his too tight jeans. You give a hum of appreciation at the familiar feeling of your boyfriend under your touch, pulling back from Eddie's cock with a string of spit attached to your lip. You're using the same motion on the both of them while grinning up at Eddie.
"Can you get him out for me? Unless you want me to stop touching you?"
Eddie gasps involuntarily and shakes his head, pumping his cock through your fisted hand. It's slick and obscene and he's twitching in your grasp. He looks between the two of you nervously but when Steve doesn't object he decides to lean forward to move your hand out of the way, shaky fingers touching the metal of his belt. "You guys are-..." He's cutting himself off with a broken laugh as your lips press a kiss to the head of his cock, a reward for doing as he's told, "You're fuckin' insane."
Steve's beaming. He's eating this up.
His hips arch under Eddie's touch and you keep your eyes trained on the boys while lazily jacking off Eddie. Steve helps the two of you and pushes his jeans down his thighs, the head of his cock threatening to slide out of the slit in his briefs. Eddie's watching his face for a moment before hooking his fingers under Steve's boxers and pulling them down.
Steve's cock is thick and hard, dripping at the tip. You whimper at the sight of him, rubbing your thighs together as your clit starts to throb. Steve snatches up your free hand once again, spitting into your palm before bringing your hand to his cock. You wrap your fingers around the base and are back to repeating the same motions on the two boys.
You wrap your lips around Eddie's cock once again, his length sliding down your throat as he fucks into your warm mouth. You notice his fingers still linger on Steve's thigh, he's short circuiting at the combination of the both of you. "You are uh.... Fuck, she wasn't lying." Steve's chest puffs up with pride as the two of you both admire how thick his cock is.
There's a giggle coming out of you that you just can't help though the sound gets muffled by Eddie's cock.
This is crazy.
Eddie whines as you pull off of his cock once again but God are you a vision. Spit dribbling down your chin, eyes wide and dark with lust. You look over and pout at your boyfriend as your wrist starts to slow its pace on both of them. He knows exactly what that look means - You're needy. Rightfully so too.
It takes mere seconds from the moment your attentive boyfriend picks up on your queue for the situation to completely change. He's pushing back against the couch and kicking his jeans fully off before ushering Eddie away from you. Eddie who's almost skittish, desperately wanting to make sure he doesn't overstep and doing as he's told.
He watches as Steve pulls you up from the ground, a hand instantly going to the back of your neck as he pulls you into a feverish kiss. You instantly melt against his chest, a mess of parted lips and breathy moans and whimpers that are going right through him. There's a hand slipping into your pants, Steve's nimble fingers making quick work of cupping over your heat.
Steve moans into your mouth while his cock twitches against your thigh, "Baby, you let yourself get this wet without letting me know?" You pathetically nod, desperately gripping onto Steve's arms as he drags a finger between your folds. "Bet this pussy wants to be fucked so bad, huh?" That finger presses into you now without warning and Steve bucks his hips at the same time you clenched around his digit. "Fuck, can feel how needy you are."
Eddie's going to fucking combust.
Your boyfriend doesn't even look away from you as he pats his hand against your pussy, kissing you once more before just talking into the abyss. "We need a bed."
And that's how you end up down the hallway with Steve pushing you back against this shitty bed, the springs whining under you as you bounce against the thin padding. Eddie can't help but think how much better you deserve but they're working with what they've got for now. Your pants and underwear are being ripped off by Steve and Eddie nearly creams himself at the sight of your bare pussy exposed to them both.
Your feet are planted far apart, legs falling open to give them both a good look. Their gazes are intense and empowering as you reach a hand down to toy with your clit, giving them a dramatic moan as you do. Someone needs to check Eddie's pulse because he's half convinced he died the other night and this is just some weird section of Heaven.
Steve steps over to Eddie, clapping a hand against his shoulder before reaching down to tug his shirt off of his slender frame. "I'll let you go first since you've never fucked before but you better treat her, Muson. I know my girl, I'll know if you don't do a good job, yeah?"
He's stumbling over to you, jaw slack and all he can hear is his heartbeat in his ears as he watches you slide two fingers into yourself. "Jesus Christ...." You do your best to look like every man's dream porno at that moment - Pumping your fingers in and out of your pussy, fluttering your eyelashes, whining while you use your free hand to play with one of your nipples. "Need you to fuck me so bad, Eddie."
Eddie’s looking around the room on the hunt for what you can only assume is a condom. Panic playing across his face much to both you and Steve’s entertainment. Your boyfriend’s laughing besides him, “She’s on the pill.” To which you nod eagerly, “Knew from the first time Stevie and I hooked up I had to be.”
The sound of a sharp smack fills the room as Steve playfully spanks his hand against Eddie's ass before moving to stand next to the two of you at the foot of the bed. He's leaning in to press a kiss against your lips, roughly grabbing at the breast you weren't teasing while Eddie moves to kneel on the bed between your legs. "He's gonna take good care of you, Baby."
Your brain is fuzzy. Your body is needy. Something needs to give.
Eddie’s hovering over you now, his hair hanging down and tickling your face. “Here, m’gonna take care of you.” You’re pushing your fingers back through his hair, gathering it up in your fist before sliding the elastic from your wrist and giving him a haphazard ponytail. It’s the best you can do given the circumstances.
Remember how Eddie was afraid he’d never feel affection like he wanted to? That moment threw his fears out the window. You were so gentle with him, so caring. It’s making his heart have this painful flutter and he’s not sure he’ll ever be able to convey to you how much this night means to him.
You’re leaning up, brushing your lips along his which brings Eddie out of his train of thought. “You sure you wanna do this? No pressure, Honey. We can all go to bed and act like none of this happened.” None of this happened? There’s no way he could ever forget tonight. He’s shaking his head, catching your lips in another kiss while lowering his hips so your bodies are flush together. Eddie’s moaning into your mouth at the feeling of your core along his length, instinctively rutting himself against you. You snake your arms around his chest, holding him close to you while he balances himself with one elbow digging into the bed, his other hand reaching down to fist around himself.
There’s a choked out moan coming from the boy as the head of his cock pushes into you. Eddie has to pause his motions and regroup himself before starting to sink in further. This is a life altering experience for him... He refuses to be nothing more than a virgin who can only last thirty seconds in your mind.
You arch your hips up to meet him halfway, both of you adjusting to the sensation. Eddie’s staring down at you as though he’d lasso the moon and bring it down to Earth if it would do so much as make you smile... Maybe he needs to remind himself that you’re taken and this is only happening due to the oddest set of circumstances ever experienced.
Hey, sue him, but maybe he doesn’t remind himself at all.
Maybe as his hips rock into you, with a motion that isn’t exactly coordinated but it’s still driving you wild, he allows himself to savor the affection you give. The way you’re trying to fight the urge to close your eyes because you don’t want to miss a second of his expression. The way his name falls from your lips.
Like Steve said earlier, sometimes you just can’t help yourself.
“How does she feel, Munson?”
“Like fuckin’ heaven.”
Eddie’s rutting himself up into you, trying to decide between just staying buried so deep or using every last breath he has begging you to move with him. His body is short circuiting and he just knows for a fact that this probably isn’t the best fuck you’ve ever had but as far as he’s concerned? Sex has never felt better for anyone in the world than how he feels right now. You’re warm and wet, practically soaking everything that touches where the two of you are connected.
He’s letting out a pathetic little whimper as he fucks into your sloppy pussy and Steve finds himself entertained as he watches Eddie take on the role he normally gets you in. Babbling and begging. Steve’s laughing to himself before coming to stand behind Eddie. He’s holding his hands higher on Eddie’s hips, silently directing the boy on how to fuck you better.
To his credit - Eddie is a quick learner.
He’s capturing your lips in a gentle kiss - you can tell he’s been getting better at kissing over the course of the night. Your arms wrap tight around his neck, slowly beginning to drag your hips a few inches up and almost lazily fucking yourself on Eddie.
Eddie who can’t see straight anymore and isn’t sure his heart has stopped beating.
“Holy shit, holy fuck, holy fucking shit.”
You can tell by his frantic words that he’s getting closer. You’re not sure how much longer he has left in him so you make a show of arching your back into him, grabbing ahold of his hair and his bicep with the other hand. Fluttering yourself around his length before giving a dramatic gasp and letting your ‘orgasm’ wash over you. This part of the night was about letting Eddie use you for his pleasure, you didn’t want him to look back and think you didn’t enjoy yourself.
Steve knows you, knows your body. He knows what you’re up to and will make sure you’re well taken care of.
And it does work. Eddie’s hips start sputtering while he mutters out, “Holy shit that was so hot.” He’s barely got time to fuck another few strokes into you before he’s finishing without warning. Chasing the feeling by rocking himself through his orgasm, finishing deep inside of you. Partly kicking himself in the ass because he doesn’t want this experience to be over already.
It takes him a moment to collect his thoughts, leaning in to kiss you and mutter out praises and thank you’s in between every kiss. In that moment he’s no longer on the run, there’s no longer his life imploding around him. He gets to just be Eddie and there’s not enough words in the English language to convey how much that means to him. Eddie gives you one final kiss before he's whining and pulling out, the cool air against his wet and sensitive cock causing him to hiss.
You only have but seconds to recover before you feel your boyfriend’s touch.
Steve grabs a hold of your ankles, throwing them both over his shoulders before he leans in for his turn to kiss you. It's sloppy and messy and you haven't had a coherent thought since you laid down on this bed so you can only imagine what kissing you is like but he's not complaining. He pulls back to get a good look at you, giving himself confirmation that you were still doing okay. Fucked out and blissful, he knows you're thriving probably more than you should be but you didn't feel any shame.
He pulls even further back to continue his examination, stopping at the sight of you spread open for him, marveling at the way Eddie’s cum drips out of you. He’s used to seeing his own, used to scooping it up and pushing it back inside of you, but something about seeing you filled up by another man… It’s bringing out a weird, feral part of Steve that he doesn’t quite comprehend.
You're whining and grabbing a hold of his waist as you feel the thick head of Steve's cock press against your sensitive hole, your puffy pussy throbbing even harder than you thought possible. "Getting fucked twice in one night... Just know you're happy, aren't you? Mhm, fuck, this greedy little cunt was made to be wrapped around my cock. Might share it every now and then but you know where you belong, don't you?" Your nails dig into Steve's shoulders and he chuckles as you arch your hips up, desperate to get him inside of you.
"Stevie, please. Need to feel you." And he doesn't make you ask twice. You're gasping and thrashing against the bed as Steve stretches you out. Even after Eddie fucked you it still took a second for you to adjust to how girthy he was. There's a mixture of your wetness and Eddie's cum being pushed out around his cock as he buries himself into you, the sensation driving him wild.
He’s slowly dragging himself back out of you, much to your protest. Taking the head of his cock through the cum that’s leaked out, collecting it on himself before lining up and pushing into you with one firm thrust. The sinful sound of Steve stretching out your wet pussy filling the room. He’s letting you relax under him while those strong arms hold you close to him, body going lax.
“So fucking full. Can’t think straight. Two pretty boys in me… S’good.”
Every word and sound you could make is caught in your throat, effectively rendering you dead silent. You don’t know who noticed your fingers working your clit first but Eddie’s tight grip on your wrist is keeping you from continuing. “Absolutely not.”
Eddie’s watching Steve’s expression for any hint of disgust or disapproval. There’s none. Instead he’s giving Eddie a small nod of encouragement. There’s a shift in the energy in the air.
You feel Eddie shuffle on the bed, his warm breath on your stomach, and all of a sudden you see the lights of Heaven when you feel Eddie’s tongue lapping at your clit while Steve picks up the pace of fucking into you.
Even in your turned on bliss, you’re not missing the fact that Eddie’s tongue is accidentally brushing over Steve’s cock. By the look on Steve’s face, he doesn’t quite mind the extra attention either.
“You’re both such pretty boys. Thank you for taking care of me so fucking good. No one else can treat this pussy like you two.”
Your words make Steve’s hips lose their pace, pulling out a little too far which causes him to slip between your folds and up towards your clit. Towards Eddie’s open mouth. His tongue already out for your clit when suddenly he has the firm weight of Steve fuckin’ Harrington’s cock in his mouth.
And they’re both moaning.
Neither pulling away.
Steve’s pumping himself further into Eddie’s mouth before he truly realizes what he’s doing, his balls tightening up for a second at the new sensation. You want to cry out, your pussy desperately clenching around nothing after being so deliciously filled. But you know better. You don’t want to disrupt the sight.
It’s Steve who jerks his hips back first, pulling out of Eddie’s mouth. “Fuck, bro. Sorry.” But he wasn’t sorry, not really. The only thing Eddie wants him to be sorry about is pulling out of his throat. You’re dripping wet. Like, wet spot in the bed because of your pussy wet. Steve’s losing a bit of that friction feeling and he doesn’t want you to be missing it too. That’s what he tells himself at least.
Tells himself that you need to be cleaned up so this night feels better for you.
Right?
So he’s taking a hold of his cock, fist wrapping around the base. “You uh, -… You wanna clean her up for me, Munson?” An offering to Eddie. He can either go right for your pussy and pretend that Steve wasn’t asking to suck him off.
And you’re not even offended when he picks Steve. Because the sight of Eddie Munson sucking you off of Steve’s dick?
Steve’s moaning as Eddie wraps his lips around his cock. Swirling his tongue around the tip before working on taking more length. Your fingers are back on your pussy and fuck you really did need to be cleaned up. You’ve got two fingers pushed into yourself, and while it doesn’t match how full you just felt, the view makes up for it.
The sight doesn’t last long, Steve pulling himself out of Eddie’s mouth with a satisfying ‘pop’. “Not gonna last much longer if we keep this up.” And to his credit, Eddie’s pouting. His fingers touching his lips as he remembers the feeling but he’s nodding nonetheless.
Your nails are digging into Steve’s back, clinging to him as if he were a lifeboat while you're drowning in all these sensations. Tears burn at the corners of your eyes and Steve’s cupping your face to wipe them away while Eddie adjusts himself until the three of you are as comfortable as possible. There’s Eddie’s lips at the back of your shoulder pressing a tender kiss as Steve speaks, “Words. How are you doing? Too much?”
It takes you a moment to collect yourself but you’re finally able to muster up a lopsided smile for him, nodding with your head bumping against Eddie’s. “Good, so good. Thank you for checking on me.” You slide a hand through the hair on the nape of Eddie’s neck, giving him a kiss as Steve pushes back into you.
You only get a few more kisses before Eddie has to pull back - He’s starting to get hard again and it hurts. He decides he has to try even harder to make sure he gets out of this alive just on the off chance you two ever invite him in again.
Steve takes this as his chance to lean in, pressing his chest flat against yours as he bends you in half. There’s a warm hand cupping your jaw and you wait until he gets closer, your lips finally touching so you’re able to keep your voice low. “Always so good to me, Stevie. Treat me so well… Treat this pussy so good. Love belonging to you.”
He’s groaning into your mouth, savoring every word you give him. “Gonna make my pretty girl cum…. Can feel how bad you need me. Fuck, squeezing me so tight.” Steve starts to pick up the pace and jackhammers himself into you. Relentless, claiming. All you can do is lay there and take your boyfriend. He knows how bad you need to finish, how badly you need him. The coarse pubes at the base of his cock keep brushing against your overstimulated clit and you cry out, arching your back up into him as you start to black out from this level of pleasure. Spots in your vision, no thoughts in your head. Just pure pleasure taking over your body.
There’s not much warning when your orgasm finally hits your body. Your back arching off of the bed and legs starting to shake as it vibrates through every inch of your being. The loud, lewd sounds coming out of you making everyone thankful they’re so far into the woods. Steve’s slowing his pace while he fucks you through the sensation, warm arms wrapping around your body after he drops your legs to let them fall to the side of you two. He’s shushing you, peppering kisses along your jaw and neck. “That’s it, Baby. Let go, I’ve got you. Such a good girl for me.”
Steve's orgasm comes quickly after yours, the spasms of your core milking it out of him. You know he's going to be scratched and bruised tomorrow morning from the way you're desperately clinging to him at the feeling of being so, so full. You wanna offer him the same reassurance but there’s nothing able to come out of you except a mess of ‘Love you. Love you so much’ which makes his heart tug.
He’s pulling back after the two of you have a moment to collect yourselves, looking at you all blissed out and your body fully relaxed after having been used as much as one could probably withstand. Your head is still tilted back against the pillow, his fingers pushing through your hair as it keeps sticking to your damp forehead each time you adjust. It’s kind of endearing how gentle he’s being with you considering how filthy the three of you have been.
Your whines fill the room as Steve pulls out of you, falling flat against the bed next to you. His fingers tangle together with yours as he still craves your touch.
Eddie had left the room towards the end of your intercourse - The moment so intimate that he felt as though he was intruding. He’s sneaking back in, giving the sight of you two sprawled out on the bed a fond little smile as he sits down cups of water on the side table. The least he could do was attempt to take care of the both of you the best he could.
He’s stepping over to stand between the two of you, a warm hand cupping your knees to give them a gentle squeeze. That’s when this sneaky little idea comes to Eddie. Your eyes are closed, giving an appreciative hum at the affection felt between Steve’s touch and Eddie rubbing his hand higher along your thighs.
It’s quiet for a moment as Steve lays on his back next to you. One hand behind his head, the other grabbing you still the only warning you get is a shuffling on the bed before -
“Holy fuck, Eddie.”
His head is between your thighs, tongue dragging right between your folds. Your back is arching while your hands come down to lace in his hair. Steve’s slacked jaw, watching as Eddie begins licking you out. His cock is giving a painful twitch, still sensitive but it’s a damn fine sight.
Eddie’s dipping his tongue into you, curling it just right to collect whatever he can get. Your hips are starting to rock up against his face but the sensation is just too much. He takes your choked out whimpers as a sign. Pulling away from you with this practically pornographic pop of his lips as his suction is lost against you. His lips are shiny, eyes trained on Steve.
You watch as Eddie shuffles forward, reaching out to cup Steve’s chin. The sight above you? It’s addicting. Eddie’s thumb drags across Steve’s lips and he’s quickly letting his jaw fall open under the touch.
Eddie’s leaning forward and you gasp as he spits into Steve’s mouth. A mixture of you, Eddie, and Steve being shared between the two. Steve’s groaning and your eyes are trained on his neck as you watch him swallow.
Next there’s Eddie’s warm hand around your throat. His eyes are so playful, so cocky as he looks down at you. You know what’s expected of you and open your mouth before you’re asked. The reward? Eddie’s hand tightening around your throat. You’re reaching out to grab his hip, nails digging into his flesh while he leans over you a bit more to get the angle right. Like he said earlier, he doesn’t want anything going to waste.
Eddie’s spitting the rest of what he has into your mouth, his hand coming up from your throat so his thumb can come between your lips. You close your mouth around it, Eddie feeling as you swallow what was given to you.“Uh -“ Eddie’s cheeks go this pretty shade of pink and he refuses to look at either of you, “Not to make this all weird and shit, but thank you guys for doing that with me. Never fuckin’ expected to lose my virginity to Steve Harrington and his hot ass girlfriend. But it was good.”
#can't believe she's finally done eeeee#eddie munson x reader#steve harrington x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson#eddie munson x you#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington x fem#steddie x y/n#steddie x reader#steddie x you#steddie smut#steve harrington smut#eddie munson smut#e.m.♡#s.h. ♡#steve harrington
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enhypen hyung line x gn!reader | #youtube!!
different types of videos you make with the boys genre. hcs, non idol au, established relationship for some & fluff!! wc. 1.2k cw. just some cursing
heeseung
“he has no idea what he’s doing.” you giggled with every word, watching as you boyfriend’s eyebrows furrowed with each makeup product he pulled out of your bag. being a popular makeup youtube channel, you wanted to try something new.
you had seen many girls have their boyfriend do their makeup and with a grin more sly than a cheshire cat, you quickly called up your man with a video idea.
heeseung was more than happy to film a video with you (mostly to show your one million subscribers how much he loved you). heeseung had seen the way male fans talked about you on twitter, he was excited to finally show everyone that you were his.
“why do you have so many lip products?” he asked, his expression showing that he was clearly baffled. heeseung made you giggle quite often, but you really couldn’t contain the laughter constantly spilling from your mouth.
“you can add some highlighter now, hee.” you spoke up once you had finally calmed down. heeseung nodded, grateful for a hint on what to do next. he rummaged through the makeup bag, happy once he found a small round container that said ‘highlighter’. he picked it up eagerly, the quickness of his fingers trying to wrap around the item caused him to accidentally drop it.
you gasped as the highlighter cracked and spilled onto the ground, looking up at heeseung who looked extremely guilty. his round doe eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as he observed the small mess on the floor.
“i’m so sorry…” he mumbled, dramatically covering his mouth in shock. you began to laugh once more, finding your boyfriend’s reaction to be adorable.
comments:
y/nloveees — they are so cute omg!!
angelbabie — heeseung loves y/n so much you can just tell
strawberryshortcake — pls bring heeseung back for more vids!!
jay
“you sure this recipe doesn’t call for cutting anything?” jay asked, observing your blindfolded face with an amused expression. the two of you decided to film a video on jay’s account shortly after publicly announcing your relationship. he often did cooking videos and you had suggested doing a blindfolded cooking challenge with him.
“ok hand me the apples.” you said after getting through the first part of making the pie. jay tried to keep his giggles to a minimum, observing the mess that was supposed to be apple pie.
he placed a bowl of previously cut slices in front of you, watching as you fumbled around the bowl and pick up a piece.
“ugh, i should’ve cut them more…it’s too big.” you sighed, reaching out for jay to ask if he could cut them again for you. but while reaching out for him, you accidentally smacked the man in the face, causing you both to go into a fit of laughter. you apologized multiple times, lifting your blindfold up so you could finally see your boyfriend.
you grabbed jay’s face, placing a light kiss below his eyes where you accidentally scratched him. jay blushed at the affection, already knowing that he was going to keep the small moment in the video.
comments:
jayjayparks — aw y/n is so cute!!
0x1lovesongs — jay being so worried for her the whole time…my heart
givenxtakennn — CUTE!! y/n kissing jay’s ‘injury’ and him blushing oh im giggling
jake
“remember, don’t curse.” you warned the man sitting next to you, already giggling at the idea of joining voice chat in roblox. jake nodded, pretending to zip his mouth shut as the game loaded. you and jake were popular for playing games, mostly streaming on twitch but you often posted on youtube because you liked vlogging. you decided that playing roblox with jake would be a fun video idea, especially since your subscribers liked you two together after he appeared in a ‘day in my life’ video.
“why is this dude following me.” jake whined as soon as the game had fully loaded. he moved your character around, trying to run away from the random player who decided to terrorize him.
“your voice is weird.” the player replied, sounding as if he couldn’t be any older than thirteen. jake’s jaw dropped while you began laughing hysterically, smacking the boy on his hoodie clad arm.
“go do your homework.” jake shot back, trying to move away from the player once more.
“go do my mom.” the kid replied, a very obvious young boy remark but you ended up giggling anyways. especially since jake seemed so offended.
“what the fuck.” jake laughed, making you gasp and slap a hand over his mouth.
“i said no cursing!” you scolded him, waiting for a few seconds to see if you two would be banned from the game. when nothing popped up, you both breathed a sigh of relief.
“sorry that was my bad—” jake spoke up, stoping his sentence short when a pop up appeared on the screen. your profile had been banned for using voice chat for a few minutes.
“jake!” you groaned dramatically, slumping onto his shoulder. jake began to laugh, leaning his head on yours.
“i’m sorryyyyy y/nnnnnn.”
comments:
ikeuismz — the chemistry…can i be y/n??
angelluv — this video was chaotic until the end I NEED MORE
10monthsluv — ouuuu the flirting…
sunghoon
being very popular on youtube for your traveling vlogs and ‘a day in my life’ videos, you wanted to introduce your boyfriend in one of them. you had mentioned to your followers that you were starting university in korea but never mentioned that you also had a boyfriend of one year that you were excited to see again.
sunghoon was a very private person and at first didn’t want to show his face in your videos. you respected his privacy, blurring his face out when the two of you hung out together with friends whenever you happened to be in seoul. but upon your recent visit, sunghoon agreed to be in your video, wanting to show off his relationship with you to the world.
“so…you guys don’t know this but…i actually have a boyfriend here that i’m meeting up with today. he’s a private person so he didn’t want to be shown on camera before but today he finally decided to say ‘hi’ to you guys.” you explained to your camera as you approached sunghoon’s apartment.
when you knocked on the door sunghoon’s roommate, jake, answered. he gave you a hug and welcomed you back before telling you that sunghoon was in his room.
after reuniting with your boyfriend and hugging him tightly for about ten minutes, you turned your camera back on.
“this is sunghoon, everyone! we met about three years ago when i first visited korea and we’ve been together for over a year now.” you introduced the boy, watching as he shyly smiled and waved at the screen.
the idea of over a million of your subscribers seeing his face was a bit scary, but sunghoon was ready for show the world that he was your boyfriend. seeing men hit on you in your comments irked him a bit— he just had to show them who your heart belonged to.
“he’s a little shy so please show him lots of love.” you giggled, cupping his chin.
“we’re going to eat now…guys. so come with us as we…do that.” sunghoon said awkwardly, sending the camera a thumbs up and tight lipped smile. you began to laugh at the cute boy which caused him to laugh as well, his shoulders relaxing a bit.
“you heard hoon, let’s go eat.”
comments:
sweetxvenom — SO CUTE!! i need more of y/n and sunghoon!
sweety/n — aw he’s so shy how cute :(
lovelysky — you look so happy with him i’m so happy for you!!
taglist; @boyfhee @junityy @aenify @iilwji @catzisb1og (ask to be added!)
#enha#enhypen#enha x reader#enha fluff#enha imagines#enha scenarios#enha drabble#enhypen imagines#enhypen fluff#enhypen x reader#enhypen scenarios#enhypen sunghoon#park sunghoon#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon imagines#park sunghoon fluff#enhypen headcanons#sunghoon headcanons
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one of your girls / ln4, part two
lando norrisxfem!reader
no use of y/n, as always.
part one
a/n ⋯ I LIED IT'S COMING OUT NOW!!! i sat down for 'bout four hours after work and a family dinner to knock this the fuck OUTTTT. it's shorter than i expected, but this was the best way i could wrap up this supposed 'oneshot'. i hope you all enjoy it. and remember, it is up to YOU for what you are wearing, clothes are intentionally vaguely described for your own viewing pleasure. and tbh, i did not proof read this...don't sue me!!! I JUST WAnted it out asap for everyone@!!! pls don't let it flop!!!
warnings ⋯ SMUT 18+++!!! minors DNI!!!, language, drunk hookup, choking (slight), p in v sex (wrap before you tap!), fingering!(f)receiving, overstimulation, feral lando. sickeningly in love lando, possession, jealousy.
wc ⋯ 13.7k (unedited!)
he hadn’t heard from you in weeks. weeks. it was driving him fucking insane. he didn’t know that the girl would come back, he didn’t know she would be a bitch, and he certainly didn’t know you would react that way. to his ultimate surprise, it was a comfort knowing that you did care. however sick and twisted it was, it told him without using your words, that you wanted something.
things had been left unsaid between the pair of you for a long time. too long. he was never in the business of guessing your feelings, assuming that you felt one way or another about him. and neither were you. both of you were too fucking stubborn for your own good. neither of you could see what was right in front of you–
each other.
and that was the worst part for lando. it had him pushing himself harder. faster. to be better to perhaps catch your attention. to win you back through his ability to race. but you didn’t care about that. you didn’t care about how fast he drove his car, didn’t care about the number of podiums he got. you cared about him. but you never let the words fall upon his ears, and that was your first mistake.
it was the weekend in spain. warm, but not too humid, you traveled with alexandra and the rest of the ferrari hospitality team. you had gotten close to carlos’ girlfriend, rebecca, as well. they were both great company and more times than not, lando had slipped from your mind completely.
but not for him.
he was a mess. a wreck without you. guilt consumed him night and day, and he would feel eternally wrought with what could have been. he’s called you, texted you, even had oscar reach out to you, but there was nothing but radio silence and the bolded words ‘read’ beneath his sent messages. it hurt more knowing that you saw him suffering and did nothing about it.
but he deserved it. he deserved this treatment. he wasn’t going to fight you. he would roll over, belly up like a good boy for you. pay attention to me, his actions would scream. look in my direction. but you didn’t even view his stories on social media anymore. didn’t even like his posts.
the british driver would be found pacing back and forth, staring hunchback at his phone. oscar would watch him from across the room, legs dangling from the papaya barstool. he hated to see lando this way, but he knew what he did. lando was honest with oscar, hoping to maybe seek advice in his own girlfriend. but lily simply shrugged her shoulders and her expression said enough.
you did this to yourself.
but little did you know is that he threw that girl out the moment you left. okay, not literally, but in ever metaphoric way possible. he never contacted her again. he hadn’t contacted any girl, in fact, these past few weeks. he would be isolated with his PR team at every occasion, refusing to even entertain the thought of hitting up a new girl.
his loyalty to you was suddenly unwavering, but it was too late.
“mate,” oscar said from where he sat. lando didn’t look up, just hummed, staring at your last text to him.
‘you’re too sweet,’
too sweet. what would you say now? you had replied to a set of merchandise he saved for you, special edition for miami’s grand prix, and that had been it. from you. he had to scroll down through the text chain to reach the bottom. his endless apologies, desperate words, and more apologies. he felt nauseous. sick that he ever treated you that way.
his favorite girl. his girl.
“she’s here.”
what?
lando’s head snapped up, looking frantically around. but there was no sign of you.
“with alexandra. ferrari paddock.” oscar gestured his phone towards lando. he snatched it from him, letting his eyes fly across the photo. it was a picture of you, rebecca, and alexandra. posted on alexandra’s instagram story.
you looked…
happy.
he…
he didn’t know why he was upset by that. he wanted you to feel the same level of anger, sadness, distress, even. but here you were– looking absolutely beautiful with your bright smile. so fucking beautiful. he remembers he was there when you picked out that top. and god, he was right, it’s meant for you.
lando threw oscar’s phone back at him, and knew this would be a long fucking weekend.
barcelona’s air had been clean. much cleaner than miami, new york. the decor of the paddock, too, had you thinking and trailing your fingers over the textures. you had done that more– feeling the things around you. you used to do that with lando. but now he was gone, and you had to suffice to other obscurities to lay your fingers upon.
gone. the word echoed in the chasm of your mind. gone. you didn’t realize the depth of lando’s absence would impact you this much, but that had been a mistake on your part. clearly. an oversight of your intimate relationship. that, eventually, it would end. it would end in flames, crash and burn, and ultimately never recover. as much as you thought, anyways.
you heard your name being called from the other side of the couch. you glanced up.
rebecca stared at you expectedly.
“sorry,” you breathed. “what did you say?”
rebecca huffed, but repeated herself regardless. “i said that i have a friend with me i want you to meet.” you raised your brows quizzically. “i think you’ll like him.”
him? him? oh, fuck, here we go.
as much as you wanted to breeze past what happened in lando’s monaco apartment, you couldn’t. your feelings, as heavy as they were, weighed you down into the abyss of lando norris’ wellbeing.
you didn’t sleep with anyone since him. you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. it didn’t feel right, and your own attempt at an orgasm was ultimately futile.
but you said nothing when rebecca turned, pulling a man from conversation with carlos. he looked confused, but let his eyes settle on you. he relaxed.
he was a handsome chap. dark hair, dark eyes. tanned skin. fit. he had a grecian nose, one that was slim and curved. not like lando’s, you thought, but brought yourself down to earth and stood. you greeted him with two kisses on the cheek, and his name was raphael.
“so you are…” his spanish accent was thick and attractive. you couldn’t deny that. “friends with rebecca?”
“that’s right.” you nodded, bringing a bottle of water to your lips to cool down. “you, as well?”
he shrugged, giving you a ‘so-so’ hand gesture. “carlos, really,” you let out a soft ‘ahh’ and soon realized, too, that this would be a long fucking weekend.
the day of free practices came and went. so did your time with raphael. he wasn’t a bad conversationalist whatsoever, you were simply not interested. but you made a promise to rebecca this weekend that you would try. try and branch out instead of looking insatiably bored on live television. she was right. you needed to get over this and move on, because lando must’ve, right? he must’ve slept with that girl, given the fact that he didn’t go after you.
did you expect him to?
you weren’t sure. you weren’t fucking sure of anything. you weren’t a mindreader for fucks sake. but you saw his text messages. all of them. you made yourself sick with despair every night, rereading them to yourself like the fucking bible. what did you expect him to do for you? crucify himself? maybe. just maybe.
as you were walking down the pit lane with alexandra at your side, you felt the wafting air of an oncoming storm of people. you glanced around, but alexandra was the one to point it out.
“uh oh.”
the papaya suits could be seen from anywhere. it’s not like they were subtle.
you bristled and stood up straight. fuck, okay. this was happening. he’s walking this way. was he coming toward you? no, don’t be so foolish. but you hoped that he would.
lando was approaching you, but his eyes were set forward. but when you weren’t bothering to look, he had been staring at you the entire way here. he could spot you from miles away with your countenance, your undying beauty.
but he didn’t stop to look at you.
you didn’t either.
but your hands–
god your hands
they brushed past one another when he swept past your shoulder. his pinky desperately latching to yours before you let him go. you gasped lowly and he heard it, his ears twitching with the sound. but he didn’t stop. he couldn’t.
if he stopped to turn, he would kiss you out in the open.
you dared him to.
but you both kept on your way, and the interaction had you fuming. why can’t he care to show up? texts, calls, whatever, didn’t compare to the ability to show up. you knew he was in monaco. you knew exactly when he was there. it wasn’t a fucking secret.
fuck him.
you didn’t care if you were being a brat. you knew what you put at stake, but you opened your heart to him. and you believed that maybe, just maybe, if that girl hadn’t interrupted, the two of you would be in a very different situation. maybe. but you didn’t let that thought linger. you couldn’t.
“what was that?” alexandra whispered to you as you both kept walking.
“nothing.”
and that’s what you promised yourself it to be. nothing. when in reality, it had been everything. lando had seen you, spotted you from what felt like a mile away with a man lingering at your side. fuck. reality set in for him that you were looking. you were looking elsewhere from him for companionship. it made him fucking sick to his stomach, and he knew that had to change. he was a man on a mission now, a conqueror ready to pillage.
it was the evening when you found yourself locked away in your hotel room. it was well past ten o’clock, and you were exhausted form today. alexandra had invited you out, but you just couldn’t bring yourself. rebecca prodded away at you, too, insisting that you and raphael hit it off today. he said that he wanted to see you again.
you had thought about it. you really did.
but you couldn’t.
you’d been sucked into a tv melodrama in your hotel room when you felt your phone vibrate. someone was calling you.
you checked the time and raised a brow, lifting your phone to see the all-too-familiar contact card lighting up your face in the ambient lighting of the room.
lando
you hesitated.
suddenly your heart was racing, beating rapidly against the cage of your chest, and you felt like a prisoner to your anxiety. you felt it drop to your stomach, feeling queasy, but hit ‘answer call’ anyways. you lifted your phone to your ear, and let out a soft breath.
“what?”
your words were bitter, but quiet in the solitude of your room.
“didn’t think you’d answer,” came his raspy voice from the other end. he was breathless, as if he had been running. or fucking some girl. fuck you, you wanted to bite out, but held your tongue.
“neither did i.”
that earned you a cheeky laugh from him. he hesitated, too, before breathing. “are you at your hotel?”
you were confused by the question. “yes.”
“can i see you?”
his words hit you hard. you fell back against the pillows of your bed, hand coming to rest over your forehead. you sighed with a grumble. “i don’t think that’s a good idea.”
you could practically feel him wince through the phone.
“please.”
fuck him and his soft words. his desperate tone, the pity that you felt for him grew. the fact of the matter flew from your head, disappearing with a singular plead from his cracked vocals. he sounded honest. that he truly wanted to see you, and a small part of you wished to reconcile whatever was happening between the two of you. you were not a woman of small touches– you wanted it all, or nothing.
“okay.”
lando cleared his throat, choking on his breath, exhibiting his initial shock. “i– okay, okay, what room are you in?”
“610.”
he hung up before you could let out a breath. your phone fell onto your nightwear– a simple baggy shirt and spandex. they were what kept you most comfortable at night.
your hands raked over your face, pulling your eyelids with it. what were you doing? engaging with him, talking with him over the phone. the long text chains of read messages you had banished him to sat idly on your screen, staring you down with an ambivalence that you quivered before. was this a mistake? should you just pretend you’re–
there was a knock at your door seconds into your thoughts.
you jumped from your bed, hands raking through your hair. how did he get here so fucking quick? you scrambled around your room, checking yourself in any reflection you could find. fuck, why were you so nervous? how could he possibly make you so riddled with anxiety in a matter of seconds? your heart was in overdrive once again, and you wondered just how much you could take.
he said your name through the door. weak, pining. you dropped the brush you grabbed in the bathroom instantly, feet soaring over the hardwood floor to open it. when you did, you were face to face with the british driver.
he wasn’t drunk. that’s a first. the thought crossed your mind only briefly, thinking that you were just a booty call in the late hours of the night. it wouldn’t be the first time.
lando was disheveled, messy, and the white shirt he wore was ruffled. upon his head was a mclaren hat, concealing his identity from the outside. most importantly, though, that you noticed was how his face was glazed in a sheath of sweat. you cocked a brow at him.
“did you run here?”
lando shrugged. it felt, in that moment, that things were normal between you two. that all of this…shit washed over for just a second. you felt at home. comfortable. but you cleared your throat and let him walk in, shutting the door behind you.
you didn’t want to speak to him here. not where he could see your laundry everywhere, pairs of underwear sprawled around so he’d get distracted. not that you expected to fuck him here, though the thought didn’t upset you. fuck, you were in deep.
you brushed past him, leading him to the small terrace just outside your bedroom. you slid the door open and leaned your back against the railing. he slid the door shut behind the two of you, and he took a seat in one of the wooden picnic chairs. he gawked at you, openly, letting his eyes run over your bare legs beneath the oversized shirt.
“don’t do that.” you said, breaking the silence between you two. you seemed to rip him out of his dreamscape with a clearing of his throat.
“do what?” he feigned innocence. though he knew what he was doing. he missed you, lest he verbalize that.
“look at me,” you breathed, “like that.”
his brow lifted, still playing dumb. dumb, as if he didn’t want to take you over this railing, ask you to be his.
“like what?”
you scoffed.
“like you’re in love with me.”
ouch. your words bit harder than he thought they would, blood gushing from an open wound in his heart. he let your words settle before he leaned back in the chair, legs spreading as he fiddled with the skin of his thumbs.
“i wanted to see you.”
“i know,” you answered. “you saw me. now what?”
lando shook his head. “don’t do that.” please don’t do that he wanted to say.
“do what?” it was your turn to play dumb. your turn to pretend that you weren’t doing the same thing. pushing him away was the easiest way to deal with all of your problems.
“act so cold.” he turned his head away from you, glancing over towards the lights of the city. “giving me frostbite.”
“lando, what–”
“i’m sorry.”
huh? you froze, eyes widening as you straightened upright. did you hear him correctly? it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve heard an apology. but this was a first to hear it in person, not in begging text messages half way across the world.
“what–?”
“for everything. i’m sorry.” his head fell to his hands as he leaned over, gripping at the curls atop his head. you felt the same urge creeping up your spine, your hands feeling empty. you shifted on your feet, stepping a foot closer.
“why now?”
he perked up, wondering what you meant.
“why, now, are you sorry?”
he was speechless. unable to form the words that could answer such a vague question. but you had an idea, so you thought you’d share.
“because i was with someone?” raphael. you know that he saw the two of you talking. chatting. maybe an occasional giggle so you could keep him quiet for the rest of the free practices.
lando began to shake his head. “no, no–”
“really?”
you stepped into his space, wedging yourself between his thighs. he stared up at you, lost in the reflection of your eyes beneath the starlit sky. his hands found your hips and you let him keep them there, at least for the moment.
“really.” he promised you. head leaning forward to rest on your stomach. you felt the perch of his nose dig into your skin. your head leaned back, taking a large breath, feeling tears begin to well.
“what do you want, then?” you said with a shaky breath.
you felt his hands tense against your hips.
“i don’t know.” his words were muffled, but you could make them out. it shattered you to hear the creak in his voice, but it hurt even more knowing that he didn’t know. you wanted something with him. a relationship. but he didn’t feel the same.
your fingers cupped his face, bringing him to look at you. “that’s it, then, huh?” your voice was dangerously soft.
he was confused. again.
“that’s all i’ll be?” he still didn’t catch on, too busy staring at your flushed face, reddened eyes. he wanted to fix it– take back his words. he’d do anything to reverse time. would do anything to revoke the words that spilled from your pretty lips.
“one of your girls.”
you pushed him away, walking back to the railing with your back turned. he said your name over and over. you ignored him.
“i think,” you said, sucking in a tight breath to calm the storm of emotions that were threatening to raise hell. “that you should go.”
“no, no–” lando stood, coming to wrap his arms around you, but you turned, holding up your hand to stop your advances.
“we knew this would happen one day, didn’t we?” you reaffirmed, steadying your breaths the best that you could. but it was difficult. nothing about this was easy. but it had to be done. you were done waiting. done pining for someone that did not feel the same. did not burn the same.
lando breathed your name again. you shook your head. “no. no. we can’t–” you choked on your tears. it felt hard to breathe. “i can’t keep waiting for you.”
lando’s own eyes filled with tears. it felt like a breakup, when you two were clearly never together. you made that clear enough, and he obeyed, just wishing to feel your skin beneath his fingers, fall asleep to your heart beat. so why did he say he didn’t know? fuck, he’s such an asshole. he couldn’t take back his words now, could he?
he tried to explain. words stumbled from his lips, nervous and riling with anxiety, but you would hear none of it. you simply brushed past him and into your room, opening the door from your hotel room for him. you said nothing else, tears sliding down your cheeks, lip caught between your teeth.
“please,” he begged one last time. he had succumbed to his tears, too, cheeks flushed and lip wet. his hands trembled as he made one last attempt to cup your face. you let him.
your foreheads met in both desperation and exhaustion. here, it felt like time stopped. the two of you in sync with your racing hearts, trembling hands, voracious blood churning through your veins. you looked up at him through your wet lashes and he met your gaze. it only had you sobbing harder.
he wiped the tears from your cheeks.
“please,” he said your name on his trembling tongue. the sound had your knees trembling, but you resisted. you had to. you couldn’t keep doing this anymore. there was a life out there, waiting for you to take hold of. “don’t make me go.”
you let out a shaky breath, shaking your head.
“you have to.”
lando hiccuped. his fingers were still shaking, and he finally accepted your rejection. though he supposed he signified it first. that was his first mistake. he couldn’t take back his words without sounding like a dick, so he was trapped. trapped utterly in this pit of mayhem.
he exited your hotel room with his tail between his legs. defeated.
you shut the door behind him and slumped against it, your back sliding down until you hit the floor. your head fell into your hands as you attempted to stifle your sobs.
little did you know, that he had done the same thing, fallen limp against your hotel room door. your sobs were in unison as you began to unravel, whilst he coiled into knots. forever entwined amidst your inability to be vulnerable with one another. toilsome, but ultimately true.
you didn’t know how long you stayed there. he didn’t know how long he stayed there. the two of you stayed in parallel behind a closed door, mimicking each other’s beating heart, for you knew that they would never be one.
when you woke, you were still slumped against the door. you stood, stretching out your painfully aching muscles, arched your back, twisted your neck. your eyes were swollen raw with your epidemic of tears the night prior, and you rubbed the crust away. the memories flooded through you. lando was here. he was here, and you had to haul his ass out.
you thought he was going to kiss you.
but he didn’t. your lips would remain untouched by his own.
your fingers ghosted over your mouth, shivering at the memory of him so close to you. you could feel his breath fanning over your face– the heaving, desperate puffs of air– and he felt yours, too, with the same amount of anxiety. you were a wreck before him, and he was too.
in no time you found your phone, grimacing at your battery, and the plethora of texts from rebecca and alexandra. it was still early in the morning so you had time to pull yourself together, but you had a big day with them today. qualifying was happening, and rebecca had set you up.
she set you up with raphael for the day. you knew she meant the best. and maybe it was. this was your opportunity to uphold your promise– to move on. you had to, or else you would be strung dry for the remainder of your life, with dreary hopes and aimless romantics. you would not drown in the ocean of lando norris, despite how cumbersome he gripped on your ankles.
you fixed yourself for the day. showering quickly, styling your hair to your liking. you threw on a formal chic outfit, perhaps trying a bit hard today to catch raphael’s eye– or someone else’s, by chance. but you left the unattainable at the back of your mind today, heart far too raw to be ripped open again.
you would stick with something safe. someone safe. raphael was your answer in the short term. you were sick of playing the long game, bested to your knees in the face of whatever conspired between you and the british driver. you were convinced it was for the best. it had to be. these emotions couldn’t be for nothing.
it couldn’t be for nothing.
when you arrived to the track that morning, alexandra was quick to meet your side. she had an impenetrable amount of questions for you, yearning for your answers, but you only gave her a brief overview.
“we’re done,” you said as you walked through the pit lane. “he doesn’t want me like that.”
she was clearly taken back. her hand flew over her heart, obviously distressed for you. you admired her care for you. you would do the same for her. “really?”
you nodded, gulping down the lump in your throat that was tempting to choke you.
“it’s okay.” you reaffirmed her. she made a move to speak over you, console you to the highest degree, but you stopped her. “i’m fine. swear. let’s have a good day, shall we?” you plastered on a fake smile towards her, but you knew she saw through you. but she would accept this for now when you were approached by carlos, rebecca, and raphael.
you smiled brighter when raphael came to kiss both your cheeks. you gripped his bicep. engaging in conversation with him felt easier today, and you weren’t begging for an out. you’d catch rebecca’s eye here and there, and she glowed with happiness. if you weren’t doing this for yourself, you could at least say that you were doing it for her.
raphael was not a bad man whatsoever. he smelled good, had good hygiene, and had a glowing smile. but he didn’t smell the same. didn’t have the same musk. didn’t have the harsh pricks of a stubble that burned into the skin of your neck.
fuck. you missed the feeling of that stubble.
you clung to raphael’s side for the rest of the day, a burning itch between your thighs undoing the morals of your mind. if you wanted to get over lando, you’d have to truly get over him.
it was never a ‘string’s attached’ relationship, was it? you were free to fuck whoever you want, when you want. so why would it be so bad if you wished to see raphael bend down for you?
or you wanted someone else, but raphael was the closest you’d get.
the rest of the day went by smoothly. for you, at least, but not for lando.
he had come into the mclaren paddock looking absolutely awry. his hair messy, eyes dreary with sleep and emotion, whereas you…you looked beautiful. untouched by your emotions from the night before. so much so that you were cuddled against that same fucking dude, which had lando’s blood bursting to life.
you were across in the pitlane observing the car, arms folded over your chest. that fucking guy’s hand rested on the upper part of your back, rolling soft circles with the pads of his fingers. he clenched the rim of his helmet in his hands. his teeth grinded inside his mouth, sawing down the enamel. for you, he’d have no teeth. for you were the only world he wished to bite, and even then you starved him of it.
“y’alright, mate?” oscar’s voice interrupted his thoughts. lando broke his stare from the pair of you, ripping his eyes away.
but you had turned, then, and let your eyes linger on his back.
“fine.”
that evening was no different than any other. for lando, at least, he succumbed to his hotel room for the night. he had no interest in going out. if he saw you with that spanish prick, he’d only lose himself even more. the guilt of losing you had been overturning, divulging into what a psychologist would declare as madness.
but you were the opposite. you were out on the town, clubbing with rebecca and raphael. carlos was there, too, but was saving his energy for the race tomorrow. he held no drink in his hand, but you did. you were downing shot after shot.
you were swaying your hips, grinding against raphael with a steady pace. he was into it. his dick was aggressively hard against the back side of your dress, but you weren’t scared by it. it enticed you further, in fact, and had you drawing new sensations of pleasure through you.
finally, you thought, a break from him. from lando. but the voices echoed inside the back of your mind. it bounced off the walls; he couldn’t compare.
lando would have his hands drawing up the sides of your body. fingertips scathing the fabric of your dress, teasing touches that would have you writhing in his hold, desperate for him to fuck you in the back.
lando would have his face nuzzled into your neck whispering bittersweet praises into your ear. he’d squeeze your hips with anticipation as the both of you would move in sync. always in sync. the two of you were one on the dance floor, one when you fucked one another senseless in your less than private moments. when he was particularly desperate for your touch, he’d go as far as taking you in the bathrooms at any club. he had no shame; not when it came to you.
but raphael was tame. and maybe you appreciated tame. maybe this was a new start for you. fresh and free of any unknowns.
“you’re beautiful, hermosa.” he would whisper to you, body trying its best to keep up with you. he did, for the most part, but you moved to your own beat. lando would know. he knew every inch of you. were you really prepared to be strangers?
you spun around in raphael’s arms, wrapping yours around his neck. you offered him a cheeky smile. this wasn’t you. “and you’re handsome!” it was alcohol talking. you would never be seen so exuberant. not like this.
it had raphael laughing, though, and it was enough for him to take you back to his place.
the entire way back to his place you were giggling, latching onto his tanned skin. his hair was soft, sheen, and luscious. your hands never got lost in the strands of his hair– it was too combed, not curly enough. nothing was curly enough.
and then he had you against the wall of his flat. your hands pinned against your head, and he met your lips with his. fuck, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been kissed. but the worst part about all of it was–
you hated it.
you tugged his head down to your neck, letting him work the sensitive skin with his tongue. your lips felt hot. blistering with a heat you haven’t felt in a long time. it felt…it felt…
raphael’s tongue found the meeting part of your underwear and skin, “can i?” he asked with a timid voice. you let out a soft moan and nodded. he tugged the fabric down, your dress still hanging off your body. you didn’t even remember if he left kisses along your neck, your breasts, you guessed his lips weren’t that memorable.
and then his tongue was against your slit. you weren’t wet enough. clearly. you could feel the chapped parts of your cunt, disappointed in your body that you couldn’t ‘get it up’ for him. whereas he was practically jacking off in his pants, you were left like a desert. it wouldn’t be like this with lando.
he explored your cunt with his tongue, narrowly dodging your clit ever so slightly. he thought your noises of pleasure were noises of distress, so he avoided touching your clit as much as possible. so he tongued you through and through, until you began to become irritated.
you couldn’t even feel tight in your stomach. the feeling couldn’t be outmatched. maybe your sexdrive had died. maybe you could never cum ever again. this was to be your fate– dry and lonely. fuck. you let your head fall back against the wall, which he took as a good sign, and kept going. instead, you threaded your hands through his hair, rolling your eyes.
you let out a few soft, faked moans. you felt guilty– of course you did– but apparently it was an olympic sport to make you cum. he certainly wouldn’t make the playoffs.
after another minute of this, you were fed up.
you tightened your cunt on command, which took a lot of fucking work, thank you, and began to heighten the sound of your moans. the award for best fake orgasm goes to: you!!! you surged forward to grip onto his shoulders, even pretending to be shaking.
you deserved an oscar.
“didn’t think i was that good.”
an egot, maybe.
you let out a soft sigh, a faked chuckle, and let him lead you to his bedroom. he fell atop of you on your back, holding himself up with the strength of his forearms. he dipped his hand down, scathing over your irritated cunt. you gasped at his hand finding your slit once again, drenched in only his spit, and without warning slipped a finger inside of you.
your mouth hung open, lurching at the sudden contact. you felt sinched beneath his weight, taught with tension. he even curled his finger inside of you. he grazed your bundle of nerves that had your squirming. squirming for more pressure. he kept hitting your spot until he pulled away. you looked confused at first, wondering where exactly he was going.
and…then he was pulling his cock out. fuck. you really weren’t going to win here, tonight, were you? not in the slightest, it seemed. he looked down at you with a knowing smirk. the same one where he thought you came beneath his tongue.
he thought you came.
fuck!
“are you ready?” he asked when his cock pushed against the skin of your lower belly. he was a good size, you admit, but you had a inkling that you weren’t going to find a sweet release with his hands. you nodded, forgetting your manners, but raphael said nothing.
he pushed into you with a discerning pace. you scrunched your nose out of his eyesight. he was too busy fucking himself into your pussy. he couldn’t even open his eyes to look at you. and, for the record, he didn’t use a condom. dick. at least you had a form of a contraceptive. you’d make sure not to let him finish inside you. that’s for fucking sure.
he slid in and out of you with the lubrication of his spit and his own precum. you didn’t move. you laid there, bored, faking a moan and gasp here and there.
the whole time you thought about someone else. and you didn’t feel guilty about it. you were able to find yourself comforted by the dreaming thought of lando’s voice in your ear. the phantom touch of his stubble. the amount of moles that you could count on his face.
with a grunt, you felt raphael push off of you, cumming onto his own sheets. he laid there, panting, and you…”did the same.”
he turned to face you, smile on his face. “did you finish?”
you nodded with an itching smile. he seemed triumphant. though you couldn’t be drier than a haystack.
your exit from his flat quickly. it’s not like he even took your dress off. he insisted that you stayed, but you retorted that you had an early morning with alexandra. whether or not that's true, you didn’t seem to care. he didn’t fight your statement and seamlessly let you go, clearly too exhausted from his evening to even see you out the door.
you hailed a cab from your hotel shamefully. you felt icky. your lip sneered when you caught a cab and tipped the driver once you arrived back. the elevator ride never seemed so tantalizingly long.
when you swiped into your room, you threw your belongings on your bed and turned on a hot shower. while you waited for the water to heat, you opened your phone.
no messages from lando.
did you expect any?
maybe.
you decided to call him. you didn’t fucking care. it was the alcohol talking.
ring…ring…ring…ring…ring…
no answer.
you left a voicemail.
“heeyyy…!!” you surged into the phone as you began to untangle your dress from your body. “i–uh, i dunno i just…wanted to call you… because i…” you swore under your breath as you couldn’t get a strap off. “sorry i…” you stuttered, laughing to yourself. “i think i miss you, lan.”
and then you hung up, singing yourself into the shower. the hot water panned over your body, fingers trailing over the mounds of your breasts. the soft skin of your abdomen.
but with your whimsy, came a price.
lando was there. he just didn’t answer your call. he had been awake, wondering what you were doing, since you were absent on almost all forms of social media. so when he got your call, he couldn’t bring himself to accept it.
then the voicemail came.
he must’ve played it over a dozen times. hearing your soft voice, amicable and kind. you had been drinking, clearly, and he could hear the sound of the shower running in the background. he held his phone against his head, other hand running through his hair. he was a wreck over you, and you were as well. drunk dialing was never a thing between the two of you.
especially an ‘i miss you.’
and how ‘lan’ slipped past your lip with such ease. the name was meant for you to use. only you.
he found himself stroking his cock to your words, the temptress in your voice. he knew she was there, baiting him, and he was no better than a fish to bite. he fisted his cock with your name on his lips, and a reminder that yours was on his.
with a pounding heartbeat and ringing in his ears, all he could think about was you. and more or less, you the same.
your fingers trailed down your navel in the shower, coming to nib at the lips of your clit. how swollen it was, angered and annoyed, that such a man could ignore it. by association, you.
a hand rolled over one of your breasts, twisting your nipple in hand. you gasped at the sensation you provided, flicking your clit between your fingers. you truly needed no more to make yourself cum, except the thought of lando’s voice in your ears.
‘come on, baby,’ he would say to you, fingers gliding along your drenched slit with ease. you clenched around nothing, whimpering to yourself in the hum of the hot shower. ‘little more for me, yeah?’ he would always talk you through it. never once would you be alone when you came. he was always there, lingering, a shadow against the walls.
you slipped a single finger inside of yourself, curling it expertly as lando taught you to. ‘just like that, sweet thing.’ he’d mutter against your shoulder as he’d fuck you on a chair facing a mirror. you could never make yourself cum before his “lessons.”
your back arched against the marble of the shower walls. your thumb and forefinger worked just like his would against your clit, massaging the bundle of nerves until a coil inside of you snapped, and you came all over yourself with his name on your lips.
and he could feel it. amongst the cosmic plane. he had been grudgingly fisting his cock, grunting your name over his lips. it was sinful, the way that his cock was spewing cum in only a matter of minutes at the thought of your voice. ‘lan, lan,’ you would say to him, ‘need it. need you inside,’ you’d whimper against him, begging for his cum to seep out of you.
he’d never deny you a pleasure. so he shouldn’t deny himself. he came in a matter of seconds over the palm of his hand, your name flustering his tongue. and he’d lay there, soaking in his milky cum, eyes blown wide at just how much of an effect you had on him; mind, body, and soul.
you stood there in the shower, flustered from heat, the slick running down your thighs. your hearts beat in unison at that moment, miles apart, on the same wavelength.
the shower wasn’t the same after that. you felt dirty, but so good. the namesake of lando’s voice in your ear was enough to have you cumming on your own fingers, but the touch of another man made you ill. what a shock that was to you. or maybe it wasn’t a surprise at all.
clean to the best of your ability, you slept easy that night. the best sleep you’ve had this weekend, in fact, with lando frolicking through your dreams. and you in his, whispering soft ‘i love you’s’ which had him writhing with pleasure. you infested every part of him, and he did the same to you. you’d never be free of lando norris, and the thought began to settle. it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, but you couldn’t forget his words.
‘i don’t know,’ he spoke into your stomach. his nose pinched you. the words sliced clean. your stomach coiled not with pleasure, but anxiety. why didn’t he want you that way? why did he hesitate?
you weren’t taking his rejection well. that was clear.
but he wasn’t taking this any better. he was going through his own emotional turmoil of trying to make this up to you. it would be the last thing that he did.
when you woke that morning with a groggy headache and a sore ache between your thighs, you couldn’t help but groan. what the fuck were you doing last night? you perhaps had the most disappointing sex of your entire life, and now, as you looked in the mirror you were nothing more than mortified.
littered on your chest, above your breasts, were a few specks of bruises. hickey’s. fuck. fuck. that was one thing that was always far too intimate. kisses and hickeys. what did this mean, then, that you belonged to raphael? your fingers trailed up the bruises on your chest, the flesh tender beneath your soft touch. you winced at the memory of his cocky face, thinking that he had you finishing more than once. if at all. you leaned over the sink, washing your face off with cold water.
your hands rested at the base of your neck. your reflection stared back at you, pitiful, the bruises beneath your eyes reflected a tiredness that the word ‘exhaustion’ could not begin to fathom. you were disappointed in yourself. that much was clear.
a sigh escaped you when you finally mustered the courage to leave the bathroom. for the race today, you decided on a long dress. one that covered your chest, but hung on your shoulders. it was a beautiful piece. you’d been saving it for this weekend, and you were more than thankful that the universe seemed to be looking out for you.
you tidied up your appearance the best you could and slid on a pair of heels, grimacing at the sore ache from the night before. raphael didn’t have a valet, so you had to walk across four blocks with his hands wandering down your sides, desperate to fuck you in an alleyway. ew. you shivered at the memory, but continued on from your hotel room.
though, you took one last glance before leaving, and let your eyes rest on the balcony. it felt like a dream to see lando sitting there, his face resting against the tender flesh of your stomach. his stubble itched through the cotton of your shirt, but it rather tickled. and then he said he didn’t know what he wanted with you, and your whole life slipped right through your fingers.
he slipped through your fingers.
you shut the door.
lando’s morning, on the other hand, started off stellar in comparison to yours. he had stayed up a while longer, wondering if you would call him back, but you never did. there was a faint pang of disappointment, but much more guilt that he let you slip away so easily. he should’ve refused to leave your hotel room that night. refused by any force you attempted on him.
but he’s just that much of a fucking idiot, wasn’t he? when he left for the paddock early that morning, he glanced at his phone one last time. one missed call, and it was from you last night. and then suddenly, his heart was warm, and there was a smile on his face.
all this told him was that there was a chance. you called him. you called him whether or not you were shitfaced. blackout drunk. in your vulnerable moments you thought of him. reached out for him. fuck, he was in love with you.
in love
he paused when he shut the door behind him, frozen in place. what? is that what this was? love?
anxiety churned in his stomach. this feeling had been there for a while. a long time. and only now he was just realizing it. shit.
he fiddled with his phone in his hands. thumb hovering over your contact card, he let it fall.
it rang twice before he heard the line connect.
“yeah?” you said, demure and quiet. he knew you were exhausted. he’s heard this tone before. the tone you had when you were viciously hungover. it had him chuckling. “what?”
“good morning to you, too.” the words rolled easy from him. he suddenly felt calmer with you on the other end, but it didn’t stop the butterflies from fluttering in the pit of his stomach.
“good morning.” you said, like you were shocked that he was calling you to say good morning.
“fun night?” he asked, stepping into the elevator and hitting the ‘lobby’ button. a few members of his team were already waiting for him.
but you had froze up in the car ride to the paddock. what? how could he know? did he know that you were with raphael? you cleared your throat. “what– what do you mean?”
“you called me.”
shit.
if you weren’t fucked already, you were royally now. your hand dragged over your forehead as your head swarmed with anxious thoughts, completely forgetting about calling him and then…touching yourself in the shower to the thought of him. yikes! what a little freak you were. but lando would enjoy it.
“i–” you stuttered, voice caught in your throat. “i’m sorry…i was just…”
your voice trailed and you could hear his childish laugh from the other end. “no, no. it was cute.” you heard the elevator ding from his end, but it hard to focus on when there was a deep blush flustering your cheeks.
“i didn’t mean to bother you,” you quickly said, finding the need to apologize over and over again for disrupting his night. it was embarrassing enough as is that you had the worst sex of your life, but you called the one man that didn’t want you for consolidation. what a conundrum that was, wasn’t it?
“you didn’t.” his words were firm this time, no traces of playfulness. you perked up at this, finding yourself laughing.
“must’ve said something dumb, didn’t i?”
there was a pause.
“yeah. yeah. something dumb.”
there was another beat of silence. you shifted in the uber, the pass around your neck.
“i’ll see you there?”
you heard him suck in a tight breath, then release it.
“yeah. yeah, ‘course you will.”
you smiled. he could feel it.
“okay. bye, then.”
he said your name softly on the other end with a salutation, and the line went flat. you slammed your back against the leather seats of the car, hands rolling over your face. you rubbed your eyes, wondering if you were still dreaming.
it wasn’t fair that he could make you this way. that he had you in tears just a few nights before, and now your fingers shook with excitement. fuck him. fuck him for making you feel this way, and yet, there was no trace of annoyance on your face.
just a bright smile.
your name was called when you swiped into the paddock. it had you whipping your head up to see who it could be, but you already knew that it was alexandra. she wasn’t trailed by anyone else, thank god, and she flung her arms around you for a hug.
you sang a soft greeting towards her, and she looked up at you expectantly. you raised a brow.
“so…!?”
you narrowed your eyes.
“your night with…!” her voice dropped to a whisper. “raphael.”
you shushed her, looking around, before you held one of her hands in yours. “you want the truth?” her facial expression dropped, but she nodded anyways.
“awful.”
she groaned, head rolling back in disappointment. “i told rebecca it wasn’t a good idea.”
“the sex was…horrible. just…i mean, what the fuck?” alexandra burst out into a laugh as the both of you joined side by side towards the ferrari hospitality. you dreaded going, given the unanswered texts for him, you didn’t want to be confronted with…anything.
“most importantly…” alexandra stopped the two of you before you entered. “are you over him?”
him. the inevitable.
you swallowed.
and nodded your head.
alexandra was only slightly pleased and gave you a reassuring smile. boy, this would be a long day.
before the race started you were wandering around the pitlane with your miniature crew of ferrari girlfriends and their friends. raphael had found you, eagerly, with a prideful smile on his face. out of kindness, you returned the gesture, and let him linger around you for the day.
ferrari’s pit was next to mclaren’s. you couldn’t help but stare.
lando was there. in his papaya race suit. he was speaking to his engineers, and never glanced your way. look at me, you wanted to shout. please, your mind begged. but you stayed firm at raphael’s side.
he dared to stretch out his hand to let it loiter on your waist, but you shimmied out of the contact with an awkward smile. he noticed, but didn’t say anything.
lando did too.
but not what you wanted him to see. he saw you with raphael’s arm around your waist. you were smiling, laughing, in their presence. whereas he couldn’t even bear a night out without the cumbersome thoughts of you constricting his mind. he thought of nothing but you. and here you were, haphazardly dangling this spanish prick in front of his face. fucker.
you turned to look at lando again, free of raphael’s touch. he was staring.
your heart beat faster, eyes widened. your palms were sweating– why were they sweating? he looked pissed, frustrated, but you didn’t know why. your brows upturned with a soft expression that he yearned for, and his envy flushed away.
it was that easy. your gentle features. the concern ridden in your face.
you even gave him a small wave, twiddling your fingers. he was bashful in response, and returned it with a small twist of his own fingers.
but his eyes carried down. towards your chest. you blinked, realizing that part of your dress had slipped further. there was an obvious bruise making an appearance, and you felt guilty. guilty as if you had cheated on him, but you were never in a relationship to begin with.
you saw his jaw tightened and his hands flex before he turned, leaving you speechless.
and then you were dragged away, just like that, into the viewing panel for the race. they were about to start their formation lap, yet you could barely focus with your racing heart.
it past with ease. raphael tried to get closer to you, but you found excuses to stay huddled at alexandra’s side. she noticed, and even wrapped her own arm around your waist. the two of you were a picturesque vision of divine femininity. you felt untouchable at her side, incomparable to any girlfriend you’ve ever had.
lando was fighting hard. he was aggressive on the straits, pushing past the limits of his drs. your hand traced over your chin as you watched the tv intensely, frightened when you saw him make contact with one of the mercedes drivers.
“what is he doing…” you muttered under your breath. your nailbeds were being hacked on by your teeth, chewing them down to the stump. parts of your thumbs streamed with blood.
little to your knowledge, your reaction had been broadcasted. alexandra’s face unfurled with a cheeky look, realizing that she had been played by your deception from earlier. you were not over him. in fact, you were entirely worse than before. your concern was ebbed through the power of media, and that wouldn’t be forgotten.
“are you okay?” came raphael’s voice. you didn’t even look at him.
“fine.”
he took your cold tone in earnest, realizing that there was something more at stake here.
you couldn’t be more grateful when lando passed the checkered flag. your hand found the column of your throat, finding comfort. you let your face be consumed by a smile, one similar to raphael’s when he thought he made you came. stupid man, you thought, glancing towards the spaniard. you had a new priority now.
you had to prove that you wanted lando. but how? everything felt like it was becoming too complicated. your fates were intertwined via an invisible string.
and you didn’t even go to his podium.
he looked for you, sweat dripping down his forehead, but didn’t see you. it had him grow weary, agitated. he raced this hard so he could prove himself to you. prove that he was better than some lowlife.
but he fears he lost you.
the hickey’s on your neck spoke volumes. you fucked him. fucked that stranger. his fists curled around the trophy, break-necking the medal display.
did you come?
no. stop that. it’s none of his business to ask–
she didn’t. you couldn’t.
the pieces began to fall in place in his head. the phone call. you called him…when you needed him most.
it suddenly made holding this trophy all the more worthwhile, and he even donned a smile on his face when he raised it high above his head. this, he thought, was victory.
the night came as swiftly as the day went. you were getting ready to go out, alexandra reminding you to schedule your uber. you did. the dress you wore this evening was short. one of your favorite colors, and had a high neckline. for obvious reasons. you were entirely mortified that raphael felt the primal need to mark you like some bitch. it had your stomach twisting with anger, fingers pulsing with a punch.
but your violent urges stayed dormant when you met up with alexandra, charles, rebecca, carlos, and…raphael. jeez, what a lot you’ve surrounded yourself with. raphael was at your side in an instant when you climbed out of the uber, refusing to give you a morsel of space. it had your lip curling, grimacing down the vomit that curdled in your throat.
you barely spoke a word to him tonight. there was nothing more to say to him. if you were to say anything, it would be a rotten lie.
alexandra tugged you along through the doors, charles at her flank, which you gladly let her do. anything to get away from raphael would be best for you, given how much you didn’t want to confront him. it was just for the weekend, right? no strings attached.
no strings attached, echoed through your mind. flashes of lando’s hands on your hips, the phantom embrace that tensed around your flesh, seeped into your head. your heart plummeted against your will, looking around futilely for his bright smile amongst the sea of oncomers.
it didn’t take you long.
but you wish that it did.
he had his arm slung around some girl, hat backwards, first few buttons undone on his white dress shirt. hands clamming up, you tightened them together over your front, letting your eyes gawk at such a beautiful pairing. it was a different girl than the one you had rudely met in monaco.
another one of his girls.
your mind begged you to let it go. but your heart chained itself to lando, refusing to let go this…infatuation that had you sick to your stomach. what did she have that you didn’t? was she nonchalant? was she a cool girl?
your staring lasted too long. lando saw you. he felt your eyes– your heated stare, beckoning his attention. he answered your call, glancing directly at you. but he did not wave.
neither did you.
the urge thwarted you to look anywhere else but him, tugged your attention elsewhere, but you stayed firm on his freckled face, sharp cheekbones, his daunting stare. you felt the beat of his heart from across the room, the bass boosted rap, his irritability when raphael came to rest a hand on your hip. but you did not turn away from this fight. your arsenal was loaded, and so was his.
lando glanced at raphael, first to break eye contact, and swug the rest of his cocktail in hand. he let the glass slide across the counter of the bar before tugging the girl at his side to his front, the pair of them dancing with one another.
fine, if he wants to play, then you’ll play.
you were handed a cocktail by raphael. you thanked him sincerely before you downed your own in one gulp. raphael gaped at you with a slack jaw. you wiped the loose drops from your jaw, and offered him your hand.
“dance with me?”
raphael didn’t need to be asked twice when he took your hand. you led him deeper into the club, the led lights brightening both your faces. in this light, you supposed that he was irrecoverably handsome. and the thought slipped through your mind that maybe, just maybe, you could’ve had a good life with him. that in some universe that you could get over this feud with a man who doesn’t want you, you’d have a well-earned chance at happiness.
but the thought left just as quickly as it came.
your hips were against his. ass against his crotch, grinding in a rough series of movements. he began growing accustomed to how you moved, and that much you could be thankful for. no longer would the two of you be awkward on the dance floor, fragile hands trembling against your body. he felt more confident, but you could tell there was something brewing behind those big brown eyes of his. but you honestly couldn’t care less, not when you were distracted.
not when your eyes were entranced on a man who treated you like garbage. who cried in your arms, begged for your presence. then, left your hotel room with tears streaming down your face.
his hands were tightly wound around the girls abdomen, cocky expression glazing his face. he spoke to a few of his buddies here, too, amply looking like a douche. one that who knew exactly what he was doing to girls. fuck.
you were just one of his girls.
this enraged you. but it shouldn’t. but it did. there was no excuse for your fray of emotions. they simply existed, and you were going to deal with them. not in a responsible way. no, you were far too gone for that. alcohol warmed your throat, your palms, your chest.
you let your head lean back onto raphael’s shoulder, your mouth coming to his ear. “you can touch me.” you encouraged him. he seemed to lighten at this, becoming bold enough to let his hands trail up your body. he’d indulge in your shape, letting his fingers imprint against the globes of your breasts, the lining of your panties beneath your dress.
a light giggle left you when you let your head rise from his blades, and were met with an aggressive, terrifying, stare from across the room.
your lips puckered.
lando’s head was resting on the girl’s shoulder, his hips swaying with hers, but his eyes were trained on you. you, you, and more you. he was glaring at the man behind you, his gaze so bitter that it soured even your own tongue. it was the miniscule amount of guilt that flustered your head, but you shoved it down.
lando retaliated, beginning to kiss on the girls neck. she leaned against him, a gorgeous smile lighting up the room.
you grumbled, turning your head to meet raphael’s eyes. your eyes pleaded with a language of seduction, one that any man could understand.
raphael took the bait.
his lips trailed down your ear, down the column of your neck. all whilst your back was pressed against his front, you felt the outline of his dick. your palm tightened at the memory of how he attempted to fuck you, but you had to remain composed. you couldn’t fail now.
your lip caught between your teeth for dramatics. like you were holding back a moan.
lando was watching. in fact, he never stopped. he was drunk on the addiction of watching you. watching you grind your hips on that fuckin’ guy, not even wince when his lips were glossing over the sensitive flesh of your neck. could he make you wet with just his mouth?
the british driver could feel his end nearing. if this progressed any further, he’d drag your ass to the bathroom and fuck you like you’d deserve. he didn’t give a fuck. not anymore. not when your lip was bitten by your top row of teeth, an illusive point to how that guy was pleasuring you. he felt fucking sick. though he was starving to the same degree.
his chest was aflame at your teasing touches on your own body. he could see the outline of your panties, the lack of a bra. your nipples were pinching against the fabric that confined them, and he had to stop himself from drooling. you were so fucking sexy.
the girl at his front was growing bored of her lack of attention. he, honestly, didn’t even remember her name. but he’d suffice it with a swirl of his tongue around the skin of her jaw. it was a critical move, since he knew that you’d never let yourself be kissed. you wouldn’t risk such intimacy with a man you’ve only known for a few days–
except you would.
this was war, wasn’t it?
watching lando suck and slurp on that girl’s neck had you desperate to come up with an alternate idea. an approach that would crown you victorious without a second thought. it was cruel, you knew this, but you were out of options. you had something to prove. prove that you were over him. though, you knew that this would end in one of two ways;
him, fucking you.
or, him leaving.
you much preferred the latter.
with enough fury boiling in your bones, you lifted your head to meet raphael’s eyes. with your pointer finger, you let it roll over his chin, connecting with your thumb. you glanced at his lips, your tongue wetting your own, and pulled him to meet you.
raphael said your name into your mouth, nervous to even let his tongue explore yours. you sucked in a tight breath, lip curling to reference a snarl at how much you despised the sensation. it was messy, wet, and you felt instantly disgusted with yourself for even letting him touch your lips. you felt like you jumped too far into a relationship with raphael, even though you were certain that you didn’t want one.
“be my girlfriend,” raphael breathed into your mouth. you hummed a laugh, thinking that he was joking. but he moved to separate you too, staring at you with a brazen thoroughness that you never wished to see again.
“i’m serious. i want–”
“‘scuse me, mate,” you knew that voice. you knew that voice too well. your head spun around to see lando leering dangerously close to raphael’s face, the heat of his body emanating onto your own. he stood only a few inches from you.
you felt his hand ghost over the small of your back, and you suddenly felt desperate to feel it. with your lips raw from that kiss, your fingertip glazed over the flesh, your eyes lost in lando’s tense expression. his jaw was tightened, chest doing it’s best to keep his heated expression under control. however, that control was slipping with every passing moment that you were in raphael’s arms.
raphael turned his attention to lando, suddenly pissed. “need something?”
lando gave him a hoarse chuckle. “yeah. can i borrow your lady for a second?”
raphael made a move to shake his head. “no, we were just—”
“thanks, mate.” lando gripped your back with his fingertips, digging into the skin without mercy. you felt his anger rolling off of him in tense waves, the urge to consolidate him overwhelming. he led you through the crowds of people with an insurmountable force, jaw tightly clenched the entire way. you could practically hear his teeth grinding against one another.
he said nothing until he opened– no, broke the door– to the bathroom. it was a single stall– no one was in there. he allowed you to enter first, stretching out his arm as a much needed signal. you waited a moment, arms crossing over your chest.
his eyes didn’t relent. he would wait here all fucking day before you decided to go in. and you did. he locked the door behind the two of you in an instant.
“what the fuck are you–” you began to scold, back turned to him as you approached the mirror and the sink. you were interrupted when he spun you around, hand place firmly on your hip. the contact had you gasping, glancing down at his hand.
“so, what?” he said, looking down at you through hooded eyes, blown pupils. his heart was electrified, hidden behind his cage of ribs, and one hand flexed as it gripped the edges of the porcelain sink. he hummed, “hm? he your boyfriend now?”you gaped at him. “you’re serious?” you stifled a laugh, unbelieving of his attitude. “what’s it to you, lando? hm?”
his shoulders tensed. “you shouldn’t be with him.”
you rolled your eyes. lando gripped your chin, demanding your attention. “why not, then? ‘m i supposed to be your whore forever?”
his thumb rolled over your bottom lip. “you never were,” he tsked. you were bewildered. brow raising, however difficult to focus when his hand around your hip began to swirl circles on your skin.
“what the fuck are you saying, then, lando? you need to–”
“you let him kiss you.”
you froze.
“never me. why?” his restraint was slipping. his forehead edged closer and closer to yours until you could feel his breath fanning across your face.
“why?” he asked again, his nose brushing against your own. you shook your head ‘no,’ lip beginning to quiver beneath his body. his chest pressed against your own as he got closer. he needed to be closer. “he fuck you better? hm? that it?”
you shuddered when you felt his fingers lower from your hip, trailing circles towards your navel, the slit of your dress that met your upper thigh.
“go on,” he urged, his voice tense from gritting his teeth. “tell me. tell me, and i’ll stop.”
you stayed quiet except for the whimper that left your throat when his fingers curled against your panties, a dampened spot ruining the fabric. there was a deep chuckle against your face, lando’s forehead still against your own. you tightened your lips together, not daring a word to spill.
“tell me, and i’ll let you go party with your new boy.”
“fuck you,” you bit out, seething with your desire, angered with his jealous antics.
“yeah? yeah? you want ‘ta fuck me?” there was no way of hiding his cocky grin. it could be seen from miles away, even when his face was millimeters from yours.
“you’re an asshole,” you heaved, your hips bucking when he began to slide your underwear to the side. your breaths were harsh against his cheeks.
“must like ‘em mean, then,” he cooed, followed by a deep chuckle. “‘cause you’re drippin’ for me.” you felt your slick seep around his fingers as h grazed the puffy lips of your cunt. your head was thrown back against the concrete wall, smacking against the surface. lando was quick to adjust your head, his fingers tugging into your hair.
“fuck,” you sighed, finding his pleasures undeniable. he was so on edge from seeing you kissing raphael, that he was lost in his madness. this pent up lust was bursting from its locked away jar, pouring its fury onto you. “touch me, lando. please–”
with a swift motion he perched you onto the porcelain sink, your head lolling against the mirror, supported by his palm. he tugged you forward so your glossy cunt stained the front of his black pants. the wet spot was pertinent, your face flushing with embarrassment. you were supposed to hate this. why did you love it?
“‘am touchin’ you, baby.” his middle finger teased you, blessing you with a split moment of euphoria of grazing your clit. you moaned, eyes fluttering shut. “look at me,” his hand tightened in your hair. your eyes flashed open, face to face with his crooked, loving smile. “look at me when i make you cum.”
you nodded, whimpering rapidly. he grinned harder at your desperate, pleading tone. though you spoke no words, he could tell just how badly you needed him.
“inside,” your begging didn’t cease, especially when he was still refusing to slide a finger inside of you. “please, please—”
your words were cut off when his middle finger curled sweetly inside of you, eliciting the sweetest pleasure you have felt in weeks. the moan you delivered was guttural, deep, and most of all, primal. lando’s dick pulsated in his pants, his fingers twitching at your lewd voice.
a hand reached out to grip onto his bicep, your head falling into the crook of his neck. you felt undeniably at ease in his hold, despite the hurt that he’s caused you.
his finger began to slide in and out of you, scissoring you to high hell and back, and you were putty in his hands. moments like these is what he favored most with you, but he would take anything to be in your presence. he didn’t feel an ounce of guilt when he swooped you up from that asshole’s arms, leaving him shocked and disrespected. lando was keen enough to twist his head over his shoulder when he led you away, watching as raphael’s face contorted with disappointment. it had his jaw tensing, resisting the urge to smirk.
“come on, baby,” lando’s voice cut through your high, your naval tightening with a hot pressure. “know you’re close. can feel it.”
he added a second finger, using his thumb to roll over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the stimulation was overwhelming, your throat raw with the carnal moans he drew from your depths. he’d be the only one to hear any of these ever again. he promised himself that much.
your orgasm was imminent, the coil in your belly snapping with a hopeless yearning you’ve been deprived of for what feels like an eternity. slick covered the palm of his hand, and your eyes had locked onto his. he watched as you trembled with desire, legs twitched around his waist. with one quick move he brought his two fingers to your lips.
you knew what he wanted.
you’ve never tasted yourself before. but your lips parted, and he lathered your slick over your tongue. you sucked in earnest over his calloused digits, lips puckering, cheeks hollowing. you swallowed, letting your tongue linger over his fingertips.
“now you know,” he whispered, clutching you tight. “why i can’t stay away.” for a brief moment, you thought he was mentioning because of the taste of your cunt. but with the deep look in his eyes, you knew it meant more. you were made for him. both in spirit and sensuality.
lando spun you around from your seat atop the sink, having you flipped, staring at your reflection in the mirror. you look disheveled, and downright fucked. your feet met the ground, the palm of his hand spreading over the expanse of your back, flattening you to a ninety degree angle.
“lift your hips for me, love,” you obeyed without second thoughts, rising to your tip toes as he ran his fingers along the underside of your thighs, pulling down the fabric of your panties. they hit the floor, and your cunt went rigid with the cold air. but you heard lando making fast work with his belt, his jeans, and you sifted back and forth. you even turned to look at him over your shoulder, lashes batting unintentionally at the spring of his cock against his lower belly.
“missed this,” he breathed, saddling his hand at the base of your neck. you pushed into his hold, deepening the connection.
your exhaustion didn’t impede your ability to get fucked. that was for sure. lando wasn’t going to spare a single effort on your behalf. he was riled, pent up, and now he wanted to see tears in your eyes as you were split open on his cock. it was a promise.
“missed you.” you mumbled. lando’s hand tightened around the frontal base of your throat.
“what was that?”
you whimpered. “missed you!”
“atta girl.” he was pleased with your higher volume, and awarded you by edging the tip of his cock through your folds. you lurched forward, gripping onto the dish of the sink. a deep groan left you, and he gave you a grace period to adjust. but it took too long. you wanted him deep. bottomed out. until there was nothing else for you to give.
“show me,” you grit your teeth. “show me he’s not good enough.”
your words seemed to ignite a flame inside of lando that couldn’t be ignored. you felt him huff air, the sensation tickling your spine, and he thrust himself inside of you. forget a grace period, you were going straight to heaven.
you moaned, his cock stimulating a perverse area inside your cunt that no man could ever reach. lando was out for blood to prove that he was the only man that could truly fuck you. and fuck you he would.
the sound of skin slapping echoed through the bathroom. your moans intertwined with his mewls, creating an atmosphere derived from both of your pleasures alone. nothing would ever compare to this feeling. how he curved deliciously inside of you, how you tightened so mercilessly around his cock. he’d let himself run dry so he could feel your tight walls each night.
the pressure of his hand around your throat didn’t relent. with his index and thumb squeezing at every point he bottomed out, you swore you were seeing stars. you were an irrecoverable mess in lando’s arms, and that’s just the way he wanted you. in the reflection of the mirror stared the fading marks that fucker left on your skin. but he was determined to make his own. and it was different that you’d let him. without a doubt, he could bite through your skin, make you bleed for all you fucking cared.
“who’s fucking you this good?” lando asked, hand tightening briefly for your response. you were lost in your haze, unable to truly focus on his words. your brows furrowed.
“you,” you said, breathless, clenching onto the sink with all your prospective might.
“who?” he prodded further, opposite hand coming to rub at your clit. you seethed, breath tightening in your throat. tears burned at your retinas, the skillful work of his fingers bringing you to an oncoming orgasm. lando felt it, and paused his fingers.
you whimpered, then looked at him in the mirror. he loomed like no man you’ve ever seen. darkened eyes, sweaty hair. fuck, he’s so hot. “you!”
his fingers returned their assault on your clit, and you could feel the burning heat once more. you grinded hopelessly against the palm of his hand, which he responded as to pinching the bundle of nerves atop your cunt to with more pressure.
it didn’t take long before you were keeling over the sink, his hand around your neck forcing you to arch before him. with your unbearably tight cunt, he came with you, filling you with hot ropes of cum. the feeling of him warm, vested in your walls brought you a comfort like nothing else.
lando’s head fell forward with his heaving chest onto the base of your neck. his heart was beating so fast, you could feel it. you lifted yourself from the downward angle of the sink, his hands coming to steady you despite his exhaustion.
“i lied to you before,” he spoke into the skin of your neck. too fucked out to really process what he was saying, you turned slightly to catch one of his eyes. “you aren’t a favorite.”
you frowned, still confused, heart feeling ripped open once more.
“you’re the only girl.”
you turned fully this time to face him.
“what?”
“you heard me.” you did. that was true. but what you didn’t believe was true, was his words.
“don’t…” you begged. “don’t play with me anymore, lan…” the nickname rolled off your tongue with ease. “i can’t…i can’t wait for someone who doesn’t…” love, “want me the same.”
lando brushed a stray hair from your forehead. he let himself lean into you. your bodies fit together perfectly.
“what do you want, then?”
your voice was caught in your throat. there was a million things you wanted, but there was only one thing you needed.
“i need you.”
need cut through his body like wild flower to barley. need was the mending his heart needed. need was the remedy of his uncertainties about you.
his face upturned into a smile.
“i can’t do this,” he said, taking a breath. “any of this, without you. need you here, with me,” with his forehead touching yours, you could feel his lashes against your browline.
“lando…”
he shook his head. your name was soft on his tongue. “please, please, stay with me. i should’ve never left that hotel room. never.”
your cheeks were wet. but they weren’t from your tears. his. his lip was quivering when you opened your eyes, his own shut as if he were too afraid to face you.
and instead of answering him with words, you tilted your head up, and let your lips collide with his. torn into shock, lando’s eyes flew open, unbelieving of what was happening. you were kissing him. your lips on his, intimate. you wanted to be intimate with him, not just fuck him.
his eyes fluttered shut, and his hand came to wrap around the back of your neck. he returned your kiss, tongue eager to explore the cavern of your mouth, and you let him. you had been afraid to let him kiss you, fearful that you would become addicted to this pleasure.
you were right in your fear. there was never a universe where you wouldn’t be drunk on his tongue, craving his teeth clashing with your own. it was an ensued battle with your mouths, one you weren’t going to relent easily. but he remained victorious and let his tongue run over yours. the two of you were inseparable, body and spirit.
there was finally a blasted knock on the bathroom door, which had you jumping. lando turned his head over his shoulder, and was quick to drop to his knees to roll your panties back up.
“like you down there,” you commented from him on his knees. he turned to look at you with a knowing smirk, and kissed the skin of your thighs. when he stood at his full height, he adjusted his own pants, looking presentable enough.
“beautiful.” he complimented, leaning in for a plethora of kisses. he kissed all around your mouth, your nose, your jaw, before he landed on your mouth.
“i love you,” he blurted out against your lips. you gaped at him and he was worried you wouldn’t feel the same. but the two of you knew this answer for a long, long time.
your brows upturned. “i love you too.”
his hand fell on your lower back, guiding you out of the bathroom. “guess you’re my girl now, yeah?”
you slapped his bicep. “we have a lot to talk about, but for tonight…” you nodded.
he was happy enough with that answer.
“gotta let raphael down easy…” you mumbled as lando held the door open for you.
“oh…!” he said in an exaggerated tone. “that’s what his name is.”
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@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
#lando norris#lando norris x reader#lando x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris x you#lando norris fic#lando x y/n#lando x you#lando norris one shot#f1 fics#f1 smut#f1 fluff#f1 driver x you#f1 driver x reader#formula 1 fic#formula 1 fics#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 fluff#f1 oneshot#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#formula one#lando imagine#lando norris x y/n#lando norris fanfic#lando norris imagine#f1
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am/pm
fem!reader x bangchan
synopsis: you start your new job at a book cafe and start falling for your coworker.
warnings: 🔞!!! friends to lovers ?, praise, nipple play, oral (f!rec) multiple orgasms (f!rec), protected and unprotected sex (be safe pls they tried), creampie, use of the name baby, she/her, brat!reader kinda, whiny chan, choking (m!rec), spitting, cum eating, alcohol use, slight overstim (f!rec), prob forgot some sorry
wc: 7.4k big oops lol kinda lost the plot
an: breaking the norm from my regularly scheduled yeonkai post lol feedback is appreciated :)) not proof read sorry! [m.list]
you were nervous for your first day of work, worrying teeth leaving your lips red and sore. when you applied you thought it would be easy money, slow shifts where you could study at the register, the coffee shop attached giving you one free drink a shift. it was perfect but your anxiety was eating at you the entire walk to the bookstore. even the location was perfect, three minutes on your bike, a few more to walk. you didn’t even need to pick up new clothes, your usual attire fully excitable as long as you had your nametag visible.
the store won't open for another hour but you need to come in early to go over the basics. Your boss told you that although he wasn't going to be there his best employee would show you the ropes. When you get to the building the door is locked and you have to knock on the glass to try and get someone's attention but you can't see anyone from where you are. When someone does notice you you're pacing the sidewalk picking at your nail polish. “so sorry about that i forgot you were coming in early today,” the accented voice mutters, the ding of the bell making you turn around.
“It's okay,” you nod after a second. The man before you smiles, dimples and teeth on display, devastating enough to take someone out with a single glance. He holds the door open with his palm spread wide, still standing in the doorway so that when you pass you have to brush against his chest with your shoulder.
“I'm Chan, I work at the cafe most days now but I was told you would be working the store register and stocking?”
“Yes that's right,” you nod, taking in the small store, the dark hardwood floors creaking underfoot as you move further in. You had loved the store since your freshman year of college. The cafe at night was one of the only places that sold caffeine until late, the warm ambient lighting making it cozy. Even now with the morning light pouring in through the floor to ceiling glass windows, it was comforting, the smell of the freshly brewing pots of coffee waking you up.
“Great, I worked that job for a while so I should be the best help with setting you up,” Chan pulls the door closed behind you, locking back up. He moves around you waving to follow after him to the back room. To get there we have to weave through the stands of books laid out on tables and stacked on shelves and you feel in over your head looking at all the inventory. “for the most part it's mostly register work. When we get a new release it goes out on the front tables and then the old ones get pushed back to the shelves. nothing too major. I'm sure once you get a hang of it you will be very bored,”
“It's okay I brought homework,” you say, lifting your tote at your side.
“ahh, good idea. and if you get bored of homework you could come mess with me at the cafe, I'm always trying to come up with new drinks although I've been told by the other baristas that I'm not very good at that,” he chuckles deep in his throat before turning a corner and pushing open another door. “break room and the cubbies for your stuff. I haven't had anything stolen but if you're worried the front has enough space under the counter for your bag or even if you want to have easy access to your books that's fine too,” he gestures at a desk in the corner, “you clock in and out there, I'm sure you were told how to set up your checks to be deposited?”
“Yes,” you nod trying to pay attention to all the information.
“Okay great so let's get your name tag I think it's…oh here! there you go,” he passes you the little magnetic tag for you to put on. you glance at his name tag, the koala sticker faded but still cute. “Then let's see the register and go over that before we open the store, it's a Monday so we are usually really slow so during your shift we can walk around and go over the sections but the computer will tell you where to find most any book here. there is also a map taped to the counter to help customers so you can see that to help you,”
“got it, thank you,” you follow Chan out and the rest of the hour goes by with him cracking jokes and pointing out what shelves hold what books. When it was time for the doors to be unlocked it was anticlimactic because you only went back to having no one in the shop but the two of you. chan sitting on the stool behind his register for the cafe and you sitting on yours directly across the room. Chan had a book propped up to pass the time and you got started on your homework. your nerves are now officially gone with how calm it was going.
Even when customers did come in, you breezed through it, Chan's watchful eye not prying but comforting enough to know he would swoop in and help if it was ever necessary.
When another slow lull came and there were no customers Chan called across the short distance to ask you your coffee order, “I may be bad at coming up with new drinks but that doesn't mean I don't make mean drinks to begin with,” that dimpled smile hitting you right in the stomach.
“surprise me I'm okay with anything when it's free,”
“best perk about the job,” he agrees, turning to make you your drink. When he is done he brings it over to the register a small grin on his face as he passes the warm drink over. “go on try it,”
you take a sip humming your approval, “Oh wow that's really good,” there was no lid on the paper cup to show off his latte art, the heart feathering out to where your lipstick stain hugs the rim. you wipe at the corner of your mouth catching the stray foam on your thumb and licking it off.
chan is stuck watching your every move, all day he's been finding it hard to concentrate on anything he's doing. he was trying to play it cool even after your introduction, but he was caught the moment you turned around when he opened the door, your perfume making him want to lean in when you brushed past him. It didn't help that he was right across from you all day, the perfect seat for him to make sure you weren't struggling although that was an excuse because he knew how easy the job was he just wanted to watch you.
Now you're basically moaning over something he made and he feels bad for having any thoughts about you. then you swipe at your lip, thumb in your mouth, how is he supposed to think about anything else?
“cinnamon and apple?” you ask your gaze so attentive.
“warm and cozy,” Chan smiles watching as you take another sip that hum caught right in the back of your throat and he wishes he could swallow the sound himself. but the jingling of the bell by the door jolts him back to reality. “let me get back,”
“Thank you!” you call after him while the customers make their way through the shelves. Chan waves your words away,“Anytime,”
later when both of your replacements come in for their shift Chan helps show you how to clock out and where you can find your schedule. “looks like we have morning shifts together,” he comments, “I'll have to give you my number so when you get to the door I can let you in,” it's an excuse really he could leave the door unlocked after he gets in, no one ever tries to come in that early anyways most of their customers come to study after class.
“sure that works perfectly,” you smile unlocking your phone and passing it over, he does the same and you type your number in for him.
“best barista?” you laugh when you see the name he plugged in.
“Seungmin might not like that but who cares,” he chuckles, “best AM barista might be better,”
you both walk out together and you notice you're headed in the same direction, “do you live over on Sixth?”
“yeah, do you?”
“the first apartment building on the corner,”
“Me too!” The two of you were a few steps away from each other and Chan took the opportunity to catch up. “official walking buddies now? can't change fate,”
“yeah okay,” you laugh, falling into step next to him.
“The boss said you were in school, the campus right up the road?”
“yeah, I have a lab at five actually,”
“The shop is the perfect job for you then, my classes are also kinda late in the day so I get it,” he ruffled his hair and pushed back the strands from his forehead only to have them fall right back into place. The two of you make comfortable conversation until you make it to the lobby of your apartment building, Chan holding the door open for you before you press the elevator button.
when you two make it into the elevator you ask him, “What floor?” as you press your own button.
The space is small and he leans over to see the button panel, body heat, and his colleague filling the space. and you didn't mind it at all, he smelled like a mix of baked goods and sandalwood. “looks like we live on the same floor,” he chuckles, pulling back to stand straight. both of you are silent eyes trained ahead as you mutter, “Small world I guess,”
“Very,” he nods, chewing on the corner of his bottom lip. When the elevator dings and opens you wave goodbye as you both move down the opposite halls. He was about three doors down and when he got his key in he looked up with a smile waving before walking in. When you close the door to your apartment you lean against the door letting out the longestsigh you could muster. of course, your hot coworker shares your schedule and lives right down the hall. of fucking course.
-
The following morning you're tugging on your coat, pulling the door closed and your tote bag keeps sliding down your shoulder. You're muttering profanities quite enough as you try to get the key into the lock when you don't hear Chan approach. you flinch so hard you think your heart stopped. “You scared me!” and Chan's giggling reached out for your tote bag pulling it from the crook of your arm where it kept falling.
“I'm sorry I thought you heard me say good morning,” he slings your bag over your shoulder as you finally lock the door.“I was running a bit late so I thought why not just wait anyways since we are headed to the same place?” he's a little shy as he says it following you to the elevator, “although I know that defeats the purpose of giving you my number but you know thought that counts and everything right?” he's rambling his grip on the tote bag strap turning white-knuckled, his free hands at the back of his neck messing with his hair.
“That works perfectly with me and I can carry my own bag,” the elevator dings as you say it and Chan shakes his head stepping in before you holding his hand out so the doors stay open.
“I don't know how you carry this thing around its like a bag of rocks it's so heavy,”
“textbooks,” you correct, leaning over him to press the lobby button. “although you're right I should get a better bag to carry them around but that one is so cute,” you run your fingers over the design that made you buy the tote in the first place, “everything is worth the struggle as long as its cute,”
“agreed,” Chan nods, watching your fingers run up and down the fabric, your nails painted the prettiest shade of blue and he has to swallow to push away his thoughts of you wrapping your hand around him. but the image won't fade so he shakes his head trying to think of all the things he needs to do to set up for the day.
He holds the door open for you the same way he had your first day, letting you brush past him only this time he's following you to clock in watching your hips sway in your skirt all the way to the break room. and when the day starts to go by he tries not to look your way as you press your pen to your lips every once in a while jotting down notes in the margins on sticky notes. watching you smile up at customers and helping them.
chan brings you a coffee halfway through your shift when it is slow, this time it is sweet with caramel, “oh wow definitely best AM barista material,” you nod licking the whipped cream from your top lip. he flushes a deep red chuckling, “its nothing,” but he was starting to realize he would learn any drink combo to hear that hum over and over again.
and when you're walking home together you laugh at his dad jokes making his heart flutter, he already can't wait until tomorrow to see you.
-
You've been working at the store for about a month, and your routine is always the same. Chan waits by the elevator for you to walk, he makes you a new drink halfway through your shift, walks you back and you do it all over the next day. you realize it's the best part of your day and when you have the day off you're stuck wondering what Chan's doing, if he's wondering the same thing about you. it's late on one of your off days when he texts you, do you smell that or is that just my side of the hallway? and you know exactly what he's talking about.
someone was cooking dinner in their apartment and the savory smell was wafting through from under the door making you hungry.
definitely smelling something good if that's what you're asking
I think it's the people in front of me. Would it be wrong to show up with a bowl and ask for some?
not if you ask really really nicely I'm sure they will cough some up
no, I'm too shy if they reject me I won't be able to ever leave my place again
I'll bring my own bowl they can't turn away both of us if we beg
seriously tho are you hungry because I'm starving and Seungmin texted me the cafe specials menu
You're sure Chan would be able to hear you squeal all the way in his apartment. It wasn't a full-on offer out but it was close enough and your fragile little heart was consumed with its crush on Chan. he had you kicking your feet like a school girl and you couldn't help but smile.
The best PM barista does make a mean sandwich
be ready in 5?
if he didn't hear you before the whole floor definitely did now. you jumped up from your couch to get ready. Maybe it was nothing, just two friends, coworkers, even going out, to your place of work, for a casual dinner. only you could tell yourself that all you wanted but it didn't stop your excitement. sure you saw Chan nearly every day but not usually when you weren't already scheduled to see each other. only once when you were both crossing paths in the lobby and that didn't count because you were late to class and rushing and he was with a friend, but that didn't stop the butterflies you felt when he gave you a wave and smile as you passed.
You were ready in five minutes pulling your door closed to find Chan leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, a dark jean jacket over a hoodie, his jeans fitting him just right. “ready?” he asked, pulling himself up to his full height.
“yup,” it's a squeak as you say it, your cheeks colored in embarrassment. He was wearing a beanie with his ears peeking out from under the fabric. When you stepped outside you realized how cool it was outside, your thin sweater doing you no good.
Chan holds the door open for you to lead the way, your arms crossed before you feel the heavy weight of his jean jacket slung on your shoulders. “You look a little cold there,” he smiles and you push your arms through the warm sleeves. it smells like him without the coffee scent usually following him after a shift.
“thank you,” your fists wrapping around the oversized sleeves.
When you make it to the cafe it's filled with light chatter, the golden glow from the lamps making the hardwood look shiny as you both stand in line for the cafe. your other coworkers behind the counters joking around as they make drinks and call out orders. You have gotten to know most of them when you have an occasional late shift but not as well as you got to know Chan. That was mainly because you two didn't have many customers in the morning time and you could talk even across the store without worrying about someone listening or scolding us. The night shifts were busy and most of the time a little loud.
When you make it to the counter seungmin's warm smile greets you, “I know you,” he points but you can't miss the way his gaze falls to the jacket you're wearing and back to Chan his eyebrows raising but he doesn't ask.
“We are here because I heard Chan's trying to come for your title of best barista,”
“he can't make a coffee to save his life,”
“Hey! I make excellent coffee,”
“Because I taught you,” the smug smile on Seungmin's face made his cheeks round. “what can I get you two?”
You both order reaching for your bag when you feel Chan's hand in the pocket of the jacket you are wearing. He is standing behind you, one hand on your arm and the other wrapped around to pull his wallet from where it's at your hip. “I got it,” he mumbles so close to your ear you almost shiver. “you can get it next time,”
you give a slow nod trying to catch your breath before Seungmin asks, “Hey are you two coming out with us tomorrow night? they opened this new club downtown we wanted to go try,”
“oh I don't know,” you shrug and Chan adds, “I'll go if you go,” he looks almost hopeful for you to say yes.
“Well then sure why not? we can Uber there together,”
“perfect i'll let the guys know,” Seungmin hands over the receipt with your order number, “should be out in a few,”
“Thank you,” you and Chan say together, moving to the other side of the counter to wait for your things. When they come out Chan takes the tray and when you think he's going to turn to one of the empty tables he keeps going over to the bookstore side. you follow after him as he weaves his way to the break room.
“kinda loud out there,” he says, setting the tray down on the little table they have set up.
“Definitely different from how we usually see the store in the morning,” you agree, pulling out a chair to sit. The break room wasn't like most other breakrooms you had been to in other jobs. this one was set up like a cozy office, the building was old and well-kept enough to make every space look cozy. the lamp in the corner of the room giving the warm glow the others made in the cafe. you take a sip of your fruity drink not picking out a coffee this late when you didn't need the aid for an all-night study session. “now this is really good,” you say nodding down at your straw.
“new menu item I haven't tried yet,” Chan sips his drink, an iced tea. “this one's good too, try it,” he slides his glass across the table toward you.
Chan watches you take your sip from his drink, the hum he loves showing itself for the second time tonight. “good?”
“Amazing, here try mine,” and so he does, nodding in approval.
the two of you chat not even noticing how late it's getting by the time you're done and taking the tray back out to the cafe. most of the building is cleared of people, seungmin wiping down the counters when you leave. It's noticeably colder outside and you wrap your arms around yourself happy to have chan’s jacket for warmth or you would have had a cold the next morning for sure. Neither of you asked if this was in fact a real date or something between friends. you don't even notice that you have taken his jacket back to your apartment until you're changing for bed and realize you never took it off.
-
The next morning when you leave for work you pass it back to Chan who smiles as he takes it back. “Thank you for that last night,” you say waving your hand as if you could cut through your embarrassment. Why was it that crushes made you feel like everything you did was so awkward? you were returning a jacket for crying out loud. It was totally normal, especially between friends but you couldn't help but blush.
for the rest of the day, you two fall into your routine. Towards the end of your shift, a customer knocks over a display of books and you assure them you will pick them up once you're done checking them out, and it's no problem at all. Once they leave you bend to get the books picked up and Chan can't look away. you're wearing a skirt, the simple black panties you're wearing flashing him every once in a while as you reach over. He doesn't even notice he's overfilled the coffee cup in front of him until the coffee splashes down to his shoes. “oh fuck,” he mutters catching your attention as you restack the books. hes red from his cheeks to his ears as he wipes up the mess. but as he pushes the black rag around he can only think about you bending over, the fabric of your underwear hugging your skin dimpling the flesh of your ass. now he's over-wiping the counter thinking about it, so lost in thought he doesn't notice you come up to stand right at the till. “guess we both are having messy days,” your voice pulling him from his thoughts and he stammers over his words, “y-yeah messy,”
but the word only fuels him, if anything was to be messy it needed to be you, he wanted too badly to make a mess of you.
“I just saw the next shift workers walk in. Are you ready to head out?”
“yes yes let me just put a lid on this, do you want anything to go?”
“No, I'm good I don't need all that caffeine before heading out for drinks tonight,” Chan had forgotten about that but now he was thinking about what you were going to wear, about what it would be like going anywhere else besides work and the apartment building with you.
When it's time to leave for drinks that night you text Chan you're ready and you book the Uber to come pick you two up.when you lock the door to your place and turn around to find Chan there you could have fallen to your knees at how downright edible he looked. those slouchy jeans showing a thin strip of the elastic to his underwear, the black tank hugging him in all the best places under his leather jacket. you wanted to hook your finger in the loop of his jeans and tug him to you and never let him go, link him to you like he was a keychain you couldn't remove easily. and his eyes were tracing up your bare legs, over the short ruffled shorts you wore, your own tank hugging you giving you the best cleavage. Chan's blush was so contradictory to his outfit and it made him so much cuter, eyes jumping to yours to not make it obvious that he was checking you out just as much as you were checking him out. “cars out front,” you say brushing past him.
at the club, Chan could not stop watching you.
you were sitting in the booth next to him and seungmin, lips around the straw of the drink in your hands, paying all your attention to Felix talking about a customer who gave him a hard time.
“he just kept asking for a blue book over and over and I could not tell you how many blue books I pulled off the shelves for him,” your giggle was more intoxicating than anything in that room.
“Did you find it?”
“no! he walked out on me and to this day I question if he was just fucking with me or not,”
The rest of the group was finally showing up and the booth was only so big. Chan rested his arm behind your head scooting until his leg was flush against yours so that the rest of them could fit comfortably. He hated how jealous he was feeling as you paid everyone more attention than he was getting. and when Hyunjin asked you to dance he could have ground his teeth to dust. “sure!” your drink is empty in front of you.
you were in the middle of the booth and Hyunjin was on the end so he stood making room for the others to move but they didn't hear the request over the sound of the music. “Just jump over,” seungmin laughed but you followed his suggestion like it was the best idea, mostly because you were a little tipsy and needed to be out of the booth after being squashed in it for over an hour. you brought your knees up to your chest before putting your hands on Chan's shoulder to push yourself up to stand on the seat. As if you were a beacon all of them turned to watch you if they weren't listening before they would be now. Chan's hand reached out to your thigh to steady you, the warmth of his palm sinking right to your stomach. there were only two people besides you to jump over and both of them leaned back as Hyunjin reached his hands out to help you. you laughed as you jumped over, hyunjin's hands on your waist helping you most of the way but the second Chan's hand was gone you wanted it back.
Hyunjin pulled you to the dance floor keeping you within the eye line of the table. the bodies of everyone pushing you and Hyunjin together until you were completely pressed with your back to his front. “Want to make Chan jealous?” his mouth pressed into your ear so that you could hear him over the music.
“What?” hyunjin's hand slid over your waist right where your tank top met the top of your shorts.
“We have a bet going that he won't last two songs until he's dragging you away from me,” Hyunjin guides your hips to grind against him and your eyes flicker to find Chan's gaze burning into you two. if looks could kill Hyunjin would be six feet deep.
“he won't fall for it,” you shake your head but not for wanting to see if it actually would work.
“want in? or do you not like him like that? because he sure as hell likes you like that I mean look at him,” and you do, the rim of his glass pressed to his bottom lip, eyes devouring you as Hyunjin's hand slips your tank up revealing a thin strip of skin. he's still with his arm slung over your empty seat, the rise and fall of his chest showing off his pecks. you raise one arm reaching behind you to tug on Hyunjin's hair and Chan follows the movement, jaw tight as he sets his glass down.
“how much if he doesn't last one song?”
“a lot more than if he doesn't last two,” Hyunjin chuckles and maybe it is the drinks talking but you nod, “Add me in, I'll Take that bet,” your free hand covers one of Hyunjin dragging it up your ribs as you let him guide your hips against his.
it doesn't take long for Chan to leave the booth at all.
Chan does not know what comes over him as he watches you with Hyunjin only that he needs to be the one touching you if anyone at all is to be doing any touching at all. Hyunjin lets you go with no question, slapping Chan on the back before making his way back to the booth. you honestly can't believe it worked as well as it did, the way that Chan didn't even last half a song let alone two. “I didn't know you felt that way about me,” your smile teases as Chan grabs your waist and pulls you into his chest as if he can erase the feeling of hyunjin on your skin.
“Seriously? The heavy staring hasn't been enough because I thought my cover was blown the first day,” his smile is lazy, the drinks hitting him in just the right way.
“first day? not just because your friends set you up?”
“nope,” his hands slide down the curve of your ass until they are cupping you, tugging your body even closer to him, he's hard in his jeans, the bulge digging into your stomach. “they definitely didn't need to try hard at all, not when I want you this bad already,”
your hands slide up his chest and round to the back of his neck, “Maybe I'm a little oblivious and I need you to tell me in great detail that you like me or I might not be privy to believing you at all,” the way that you're looking at each other is consuming, so much so that you don't realize him dipping closer until his nose is brushing against yours. eyes fluttering shut you tilt your head ready for his kiss when he stops right as they barely brush, “if you needed me to praise you all you needed to do was ask,”
“Isn't that exactly what I was doing?” you nudge your nose against his trying to reach his lips as he pulls away grinning wide, dimples on display.
“I guess you could say that,” one of his hands slid up your back to hold the base of your skull.
“You're teasing me,” your pout made Chan want to kiss you even more.
“I think they have another bet going that I can't last one song before dragging you out of here and I'm pretty sure once I get my mouth any closer to you they will be right and I'll lose out on $100,” Chan can feel you laugh against his chest, the rumble in your chest drawing him closer.
“What makes you think I'm leaving with you?” You're taunting him now, fingers running through his hair as he squeezes your ass hard enough to make your pussy lips open.
“We drove here together,” he states and you fuck with him a bit more, “but I heard Hyunjin has a car I can catch a ride in,”
Chan can't stand the sound of anyone else's name coming out of your mouth when he's this hard when you're pressed so close to him. he finally kisses you, soft lips tasting like tangy alcohol. he wants to channel the last month into this kiss, every want and glance. he can hear his friends cheering from the table but he couldn't care less not when you're here.
when you pull away you're breathless, “do you still win if I drag you out of here?”
Chan can't form words before you pull him after you, your hand fisted into his top. his tongue pressed to his cheek, his grin so wide no one could miss it even if they tried. when you walk past the table you point at them, “You own me!”
but they are all forgotten the second you're out in the cold air. you shiver, pulling out your phone to order an Uber and Chan slings his jacket over your shoulders just like the night before. The leather is warm and soft against your skin and he wraps his arms around your hands sliding past the jacket and wrapping around you. his bare arms rippling and you could bite him with how good he looks flexing right now. you don't even care that he could be getting cold when this is the view.
Chan is all over you once you climb into the Uber, “safety first,” he mutters into your mouth before he pulls your seatbelt around you to buckle. You could laugh at how cautious he is but the seatbelt doesn't stop him from trying to pull you close enough to almost be in his lap, his mouth leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck and to your chest. never in your life have you ever spoken in an Uber let alone almost strip in the backseat but if Chan had asked you would have. and when you're in the elevator you almost forget to press what floor you're trying to make it to, chan asks if you want to go to your place or his, and your response is you pulling his keys from his front pocket fingers brushing his straining cock making him whine in your ear. “Yours,” you say into your kiss, pressing the keys to his chest before he's dragging you to his door fumbling with the key ring.
Chan pushes his jacket from your shoulders once the door is closed and locked behind him. your hands jolt out to grab both his biceps and he stops in his tracks, “do we need to slow down?” the pure concern on his face is enough to make your knees weak, “we can stop if it's too much,” you will kindly choke on him for being so worried.
“no, I want you to fuck me I just really wanted to see sturdy the handles ill be holding will be when you're in me,” your nails dig into his arms and he gives a soft whine.
“You're so fucking perfect,” it's a groan into your mouth as he wraps himself back around you walking you backward towards the bedroom. he slaps the lights on before you make contact with the bed. he breaks the kiss letting you sit, the comforter soft against your bare legs. chan gets to his knees in front of you tugging off your boots, kissing the inside of your knee, and sending a bolt right to your center. “How many times do you think I can make you cum?” He asks pulling off your socks before kissing up your thigh. He runs his hands up your calves before grabbing the back of your knees and spreading your legs.
“I don't know you might have to try really hard to get me there once,” he scoffs before nipping your inner thigh with his teeth, your knees instantly try to close but he shakes his head.
“Maybe we start our own bet, I get you to come at least three times and then you owe me another date,”
“Another one? could you remind me of the first time?”
“I haven't fucked you hard enough to forget simple things yet baby,” he stands tugging his tank top off by pulling the back of the collar. your mouth is dry at the sight of him leaning back on your hands to take him in. Those jeans are low on his hips as he toes out of his shoes, “take your top off,” he nods, popping the button of his jeans.
you follow your orders, you're braless, nipples already hard and aching for attention. “You listen so well,” he tugs the zipper of his jeans down but doesn't pull his pants down. Instead, he leans over you, kissing you down your neck until he makes it to your tits, sucking one nipple between his teeth and rolling the other one between his fingers. you open your legs to him, your shorts are too tight all of a sudden, too hot. lacing your fingers in his hair you throw your head back as he gives your nipple a tug with his teeth before switching to the neglected side. you moan rolling your hips into his clothed bulge and he sinks deeper into the cradle of your hips. “the prettiest girl making the prettiest sounds,” you whimper at his words knowing you are completely soaked.
chan pulls away letting you lay out on the mattress before he hooks his fingers in your shorts and panties tugging them down your legs. he moans at the sight of you laid out before him, he tugs one of your legs to the side to reveal more of you to him, glistening under the lights. never has he been so excited to devour someone and that's just what he does, not waiting before his mouth is on you. he groans against your clit the vibration making your knees weak, “you taste as good as you look,” he wraps his arms under and around your thighs to spread you wide before diving back in.
your hands twist in his duvet, your orgasm building faster than it ever has before. your back arching off the bed before you start riding his face so close to the edge that you don't expect his fingers until they are pressed right against the gummy spot inside you and you’re seeing spots as you cum. Chan is licking you clean as you ride out your high before he stands fingers in his mouth watching your legs twitch. “That was one,” a cocky grin present as he moves around to the nightstand to pull out a condom.
you sit up on your elbows watching him strip, thick veiny cock hitting his stomach. He climbs up on the bed resting against the pillows and headboard before rolling the condom on. “if your legs still work I'd love it if you gave me a ride,”
“and if they don't?” you ask watching him spit into his hand before grabbing himself and tugging loosely.
“I'll sit here and finish by myself but wouldn't it be so much fun to watch me disappearing into you?” you can feel yourself flutter at the thought. pulling yourself up and crawling up the bed to chan he grabs your hips to help steady yourself as you straddle him. you sink your hips down letting your wetness coat the condom, Chan's head is thrown back as he whines, “Please don't tease me,” his thumbs digging in hard enough to bruise your waist like a belt.
“Whiny baby,” you coo, pressing a kiss over his pulse, the rapid beating so similar to your own as you reach down between you two to guide him to your entrance. Chan is gasping when you sink onto him, slowly inching down and rising every few strokes before you're finally stretched enough to sink fully seated on him. his tight stomach fluttering under your hands as you use him as leverage to rise again. you can feel him so deep he's kissing your womb, right in your throat.“god you're so fucking warm, just fucking right,” he moans half-lidded eyes watching where your bodies meet, you'regoing too slow for him and he flicks his hips up to watch himself disappear in the sweetest cunt he's ever had.
“you're so big,” you whimper reaching for one of his hands to press into your pelvis, the added pressure makes your head fall forward in a moan, “you feel so good,”
“Choke me please,” he moans head on the pillows as he plants his heels to get more leverage to thrust into you, “please,” the whimper he lets out nearly sends you over the edge. you use one of your hands to wrap around his throat, the vein pulsing under the tips of your fingers. “harder baby I can take it,” you nod at his words increasing the pressure you have on him, his eyes fluttering shut as he snaps his hips up into you. He keeps his hand pressed to your pelvis and he can feel each thrust meet the heel of his palm. your knees planted firmly against the mattress he lets go of your hip to press his thumb into your clit. you cry out as he keeps up his brutal pace rubbing your clit in circles and driving you over the edge. you can't even move as he pulls out not wanting to cum at the feel of you squeezing him just yet. your hand still around his neck as you come down from your high, breathing labored.
“That was two,” he smirks when you sit up, twitching when your clit brushed his thigh. “onto three,” he wraps his arms around you flipping you over so that you're now laying where he had been. he pushes your legs up so that your shins are against his chest. he can't help himself, he's not even in you and he's trying to rut against your legs, his whines and moans sounding almost pained. “please I need to feel you, all of you,” he begs, “I promise ill pull out I just want to feel you,” his breathy pleas pressed right into your ear, hair sticking to your sweaty cheeks. You're holding onto his shoulders nodding without thinking twice because you need to feel him so bad. He reaches down to roll the condom back off not caring anymore about anything but being in you as deep as possible. As close as possible.
you cry out when he sinks back in, so much warmer and thicker than before, every ridge in his cock fitting perfectly with you. your hands slip down to his biceps nails digging back in as you hold on as Chan snaps his hips forward moaning deep enough that you feel the rumble in his stomach pressed against your legs.
chan is fucking you so hard the headboard is hitting the wall, he's pounding in over and over that your toes are curling. Then he sinks his hips finding a new angle until he's hitting your gummy spot, your head falls back and he presses his open mouth to your neck moaning against your skin the feeling singing all the way to your teeth. “I needed to feel you, I needed to feel that you're mine,” his words are choppy as he keeps up his pace. “you feel so fucking right,” he pulls back enough to push your legs a bit wider and he's back to his pace, your back arching into him. You're full of electricity, every nerve humming as he rocks back and forth. you can feel him twitch inside you and Chan knows he wouldn't be able to pull out even if he tried.
he fully seats himself in you as he cums, thick hot ropes of it filling you up. his moan is so loud in your ear and the feeling of his release triggers your third orgasm, your cry half scream as you follow right after him.
Chan's never cum so much in his life, his hips moving lazily as you flutter around his cock taking everything he has to offer. when he pulls out a trail of your mixed fluids follows, so much so that it makes a puddle on the duvet under you. Chan runs his finger through the cream rubbing it up your clit and back down to your entrance before he leans over and licks you clean. “Chan!” your knees are shaking, tears threatening to spill as he pulls himself back up pressing his mouth to yours and letting some of the cum he's collected spill onto your tongue. he kisses away the saltiness before pulling back, to gaze down on you, “that was three, looks like you owe me one more date,”
#bang chan#stray kids#stray kids smut#bangchan smut#bangchan x reader#stray kids bang chan#skz bang chan#skz smut#chan x reader#smut#skzsmut#skz x reader#skz#christopher bang#lee kn#seungmin#changbin#hyunjin#han jisung#lee felix#i.n skz
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꒰ 𑄽୧ ꒱ 𓈒 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀bisou, bisou! ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀𝜗𝜚 ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀18+! men and minors dni.
. ̣̣̣︶ ྀ pairing ˚ ۪ ݁ balletinstructor!wanda x ballerina!reader
꒰ tags ꒱ 𓈒 mommy!wanda , taboo - ish relationship , smut , fingering , r!receiving , wanda speaking french! ( lapine is bunny, and poupée is doll~!! )
ꔫ ࣪ ˖ a / n ⑅♡ ྀ˖ this is my first time writing for wanda , i do hope you enjoy!! based on my previous post!! i... have not proofread this... i am very sorry if it is a mess!! ໒ ྀི>֯ . <ྀི֯ ̥ ︣ა
⁺ ⑅ ꫂ ၴႅၴ tag list ֯݁ต @emiliaisdead ( pls comment if you'd like to be added~! )
“Bonne après-midi, ma lapine!”
You lift your nose from its position at your knee, lifting up and toward the position of the honey-coated voice. It comes as no surprise to you that your instructor stands at the door, her hair in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, her outfit consisting of several layers that she’s sure to ditch over the next few hours. She looks impossibly cozy, and though her nose is pink and her hair is a bit frizzy from a hat that she’s recently shed, she is the essence of winter comfort. She is shivering, as are you. You can think of nothing more than sitting in front of a fire with her, under a blanket with warm tea and cookies, spending your time only focused on your shared nearness. This time of year always floods your mind with these images, it can’t be helped. Alas, you stand in a room with only a few small space heaters to create warmth for your poor, frozen joints.
“Hello!” You smile in return. Ms. Maximoff has a penchant towards speaking in French in your presence, as if it is her little secret, one that she will never let you in on. You haven’t learned yet what her little teasing nicknames mean, but you have the context clues to know when she’s greeting you, which is just enough. You don’t really want to know what she’s calling you, it only adds to the tension of your already over-amorous relationship.
You have had an entirely debilitating crush on this woman for far too long, and it is not as though she is necessarily helping you shake it. She is incredibly affectionate towards you, and while it may seem to others in the room that you are nothing more than her favorite student— which you certainly are— Ms. Maximoff harbors those very same feelings for you. She just does not show it as easily as you do. Where you become a blushing, babbling mess, she is stoic, firm, though sometimes she cannot help the dimpled smile when she watches you dance. She has forced her own resolve around you so much that it is starting to crumble, her urges towards you harder to contain. She cannot conceal adoring looks nor wandering hands much longer.
You slide into your next stretch, attempting a split, which you aren’t nearly warm enough for, and the exasperated sigh that leaves your lips turns a frown on Wanda’s gentle features. You’re not sure how she could have possibly heard it, but she definitely has, and makes her way to stand beside you, pulling gloves off of perfectly manicured hands.
“What’s wrong, poupée?” She speaks softly as she kneels to your side, a gentle hand caressing your thigh. She chews on her lower lip, and you each feel the ripple of nerves shoot through the tense muscle when she places her hand there. There’s simply no helping the buzz of butterflies in your tummy when you look up to meet her gaze in the mirror, the way she so intently watches you, how her thumb caresses you even though you’re wearing awfully thick sweatpants.
“I’m too cold,” you whine, voice a bit pathetic as you flop onto the floor, body naturally magnetized towards your instructor, subconsciously seeking her body’s warmth, her touch. You lower your gaze from the mirror and turn to face Wanda now, looking up to her as if by some magic she could instantly warm you, begging without words for her to wrap her arms around you and hold you close. You want nothing more than to slip your fingers under her large sweater and warm your freezing fingers, and that is just the same thing that Wanda seeks now. But she is in the position of a professional, of a teacher, that she must keep her head about her. That’s what she’s always had to remind herself, since the very first day you enrolled in her course.
Needless to say, she’s found this very difficult.
Most difficult, that is, when you look up to her, eyes wide and pleading, fingers playing anxiously with the cotton of your own sweatshirt, legs spread so that Wanda sits perfectly between them. She juts out her lower lip a little, looking to you with the pity that you so deserve, and raises her own hand so that she may press the palm against your cheek. You lean into the touch so desperately, not minding that it is likely messing up your makeup— the makeup you always spend at least an hour perfecting before class, all so that she might compliment you like she is so apt to doing.
And it’s that very complimenting that Wanda is so desperate to do now, but she just must force herself not to. She will only look you over, soak in the image of the girl that so clearly longs to be loved, but will not allow herself anymore.
“Let me help,” she hums, voice impossibly smooth, dropped an octave from when she had first greeted you. Her thumb lightly washes over your skin before her hand drops, leaving a warm imprint on otherwise freezing flesh. Wanda backs up a little so that you may spread your legs even wider, a strained hundred-and-eighty-degree angle, though you press your palms into the floor, hovering a little as to ease some of the pain in your hips.
Wanda sidles herself behind you, enjoys all too much the way you chew on your lip, the way the veins in your neck ripple from the physical exertion. She won’t admit it to herself, but as much as she loves to see the smile on your bunny-pink lips, she adores to see you in the least bit of pain. A twinge sadistic, yes, but it’s a natural instinct that cannot be ignored. It is because she so yearns to be the one to ease your pain. She does not ever want to hurt you, will never hurt you, only wants to be the one to kiss you back to health when you’re sick, to put ice on swollen ankles.
She can’t help the craving hands that find themselves to your hips, their pressure firm, fingers threatening below the waistband of your sweatpants. You shiver when they do just that, finding their way onto the lowest part of your hip where your leotard meets tights, pressing you downwards ever so gently until you hit the floor. The stretch is entirely painful, though it’s a pain that’s all too close to being pleasurable. The extension of your muscles, paired with Wanda’s soothing touch, and her hot breath at the back of your neck, is all creating a swimming warmth within you far better than any heater could. The warmth has certainly concentrated right where your instructor’s hands lie now, the very inside of your thighs, the place that should hurt the absolute most, but with Wanda’s hands subtly massaging there, there isn’t a lot of pain at all.
“Good girl,” Wanda hums softly, releasing your thighs, sliding her hands up your side until they land against your back, lightly tracing the brocade velvet lacing of your backless leotard. She smiles to herself, counting the few freckles of your skin, knowing they won’t be gaining any new friends in the next cold months. “So pretty…” She whispers to herself, sure you can’t hear her for the way you count quietly to yourself. She adores it, the way your lips track numbers all throughout class, a very random quirk that you’ve never been aware of, yet it is one of Wanda’s favorite things about you.
You finally quit, swinging your legs forward, nearly falling back into Wanda in the process. In fact, your lack of balance has prompted her hand back to your hip, holding you firmly as you sit up, posture never faltering for the good ballerina that you are. Just as you are about to turn to thank Ms. Maximoff, whose leg has outstretched to mirror your own, to elongate your touch as much as she can, you hear a few chattering voices come down the hall. Wanda sighs softly, always a little too angry when other students dare interrupt your more intimate moments, but stands anyway. This is not before she gives your hip a small squeeze, and when she stands, she gently leaves her hand on top of your hair, gazes at you through the mirror. She could easily stare at you like this for the rest of time, and you her, but you both must move on, must find places at the barre, must move on with your lives. When the few students finally make their way into the classroom, Wanda winks at you before abandoning you in the middle of the floor, leaving so that she can fix her hair and check over her notes for today’s class.
The class is similar to every other that you’ve ever had, though not at all tedious. You do your warm-up as usual, practice for an upcoming recital, try some new things that Wanda has planned. She, as usual, uses you as an example, the teacher’s good little pet who always knows just what she’s talking about, can always maneuver through a combination with ease with only verbal instructions. You constantly worry this will make your fellow peers dislike you, but it is not their approval which you seek. And the way that Wanda always smiles and claps her hands when you’ve finished is more than enough. You have become a girl only living for Ms. Maximoff’s praise, always seeking it, always doing all you can to get it.
Today, you stand at the very far end of the barre, your back to wall instead of any other students, and Wanda certainly takes advantage of this. She lingers near you for far too long, gently pinching the flesh at your hip to make you giggle far too loudly, taking your sweatpants from you when you grow too warm, whispering dirty little phrases to you which make you blush deeper than a tomato. At least, you think they’re dirty. She speaks French, so you’re not entirely sure what it is she teases you with, but of course you blush and hide your face anyway. And, while they are often quite naughty, Wanda often finds herself whispering utter nonsense, be it a lyric to a song stuck in her head or the name of a French pastry she’s craving, just to see the way your knees lose balance. She has never once in her life been a tease, but for some reason, she just cannot help it. She loves to watch you squirm.
The class is over far too quickly for your liking. It always is. Though you spend nearly half of your week’s hours in this studio with Ms. Maximoff, it never ever feels like enough time. You always return home to an empty apartment, prepare yourself a meal that you’re sure Wanda would prepare far better, and do nothing but sulk until you can return to her side. You pull on your sweatpants and thickest wool socks, intentionally taking a very long time so that the other students will leave you and Wanda alone, so that you may have even a minute longer to spend together, to talk about whatever it is she wants to talk about.
“Is that all you have to wear?” Calls that sweet voice, head tilting to the side, sheer worry present on her features. “No wonder you’ve been so cold! You poor thing…” Wanda comes to your side, eyebrows knitted as she tugs lightly on your sweatshirt, looking around the floor, but no winter coat to be seen.
“Oh, I’ll be alright… The bus ride home is short!” You smile sweetly, eyes scrunching a little to convey how happy you are that she’s worrying over you. She evidently cares so much for you, and the fact that she does makes your heart swell oh so much. It’s not often that someone looks after your needs, until Wanda began doing all of the worrying for you.
Wanda is clearly displeased, her hands drifting from only grabbing the fabric of your sweatshirt to holding the body that it conceals, squeezing gently at your hips as she is so regularly prone to. She adores the way you feel in her grasp, so malleable yet firm with muscle, her own little doll. That is, after all, what she so frequently calls you without your knowing.
“This won’t do…” She mumbles softly to herself, shaking her head a little, her discomfort over your own cold growing so great that she cannot focus. She does, eventually, shake it, once you’ve ensued her several times that you have a pair of gloves in your bag that you fully intend on wearing.
“I worry for you, my darling.” Wanda sighs gently, lifting one hand to push a hair out of your face that’s finally fallen from sweat penetrating hair gel. Her hand lingers for perhaps too long, the pads of her fingers stuck to your skin as though by glue. It could be minutes, hours, that you stand like this, the only sound a clock ticking in the distance, the entire building emptied for the evening. Though your mind is empty, barely able to focus, eyes only barely glancing at Wanda’s so perfectly sculpted features with all the amorousness in the world, she is busy considering. She is thinking of all the ways that doing what it is she wants to do will hurt you, will get you both in trouble, will ruin what is already such a wonderful thing you share.
Eventually, her heart wins the battle, and she gently tugs against your cheek, reaching so that your lips connect. Though the heaters in the room have turned off, she is so impossibly warm. Her lips, the matte pink becoming messy from the fervor of her kisses, are hot against your own, which have already begun their winter chapping, but Wanda does not notice. Even if she did, she would not care. She kisses you with so much passion you would believe it has been building up for years.
You lift your hands as well, and they settle on her hips, tugging gently at her leggings, which are so tight and accentuate her curves so well that you find yourself at her for far too long. Her body is such a source of distraction for you, that you often seem spaced-out in the middle of class when, in reality, you are simply entranced by the subtle swing of your instructor’s hips as she walks. You grip her waist now, though your fingers have grown cold again so much so that they barely find the grasp that they so desperately want. You have spent far too long wanting this very touch, wanting to feel the weight of Wanda’s chest against you so desperately, the warmth of her tongue forcing apart your lips. You have spent so long wanting this, that its final arrival has overwhelmed you all too much.
Wanda pushes you backwards until your back hits the wall, a bit uncomfortable for the way that the barre forces a curve in your spine, but Wanda’s hands coax you into comfort. Her hands stray beneath your sweater, looking for any flesh beneath the skin-tight leotard and tights that you wear, incredibly frustrated at the lack of touch. She wants nothing more than to strip you of your clothes, to replace them with her hands, but is not quite sure that you are entirely alone, so instead snakes her hand under material the best she can, kneading the flesh that she is able to, pressing her warmth there.
You are practically helpless under her dominating hold, her weight over you, combined with her desperate kisses, nearly suffocating, but you do not mind one bit. You are hers to grope as she pleases, high from her vanilla perfume, your own hands seeking her own skin beneath her layers of athletic clothing.
You whine gently when she pulls her mouth from your own, her lips shining from your lip gloss, though you cannot admire them for long before she attaches them to your neck, gently licking you there while your head throws back, gently hits the wall beside you. Wanda has positioned herself so that her hips align perfectly with yours, though she stands between your legs, one of which has lifted to wrap around her, pulling her ever closer. Your hips have begun to buck as if on instinct, which only makes Wanda laugh softly, has her hands grabbing at you, assisting in your desperate rocking for pleasure.
“Does that feel good, princess?” She whispers roughly against your ear, though her voice still carries her signature sweetness, only a bit lower, darker.
You nod quickly, words not forming in your throat, hands flying up to tangle in her hair, and though you’re barely thinking clearly, you force the hair tie out, allow her strawberry curls to fall over her shoulders, so that you may cling onto her hair. Wanda adores the small whimpers that fly from you, but she forces her hand up to cover your mouth, to muffle your perverted little moans that echo in the room.
“The door is still open, lapine,” she whispers again, her breath bated and shallow. “Don’t want anyone to catch us.” Wanda lifts her head, looks into your eyes until you nod your understanding, and she drops her hand. “Good girl.”
When her hand drops from your mouth, it drops back to the waistband of your sweatpants, which she slides beneath, finds the spot in your panties that has grown so wet that it has soaked through your leotard. This makes her grin against the skin of your collarbone which she has begun attacking with her kisses, her teeth grazing against what is sure to become a dark bruise come morning. She presses gently against your clothed cunt, fingers slipping beneath the leotard yet still barriered by tights and panties. She is angered by this, yes, but the way you begin to moan from even her smallest presses to your clit makes Wanda dizzy from need. After a moment of finicking she is able to rip a small hole in your tights, the material so thin that it does not take much effort. She makes a mental note to buy you another pair.
Wanda finally pushes away your underwear, once again smiling into your skin when she finds that it is so very lacy, not at all what she would expect for a two-hour long ballet class. She does not know that she is the very reason you’ve chosen this pair, that for some sick reason you always dress from head to toe the way you’d want her to see you, including underwear and lacy bra, no matter how unlikely it is for her to see it.
The feeling of your warmth elicits such a deep moan from Wanda that it forces one of your own, which you end abruptly for the way that your breath hitches when she slides one finger inside of you. She whispers something once again, again speaking in the language that makes your knees incredibly weak, but that does not matter for the way that Wanda holds you so tight. Her finger pumps into you so gently, as though you are made of porcelain and might break if she does any more. And though her kisses are so fervent and her grip on you is so strong, she holds you delicately, like you are just a sweet little thing for her to take care of, not only the subject of her lust.
“Can you take another?” She muses, voice salaciously kind, so protective and dominating as she presses a few gentle kisses to your jawline. You can only nod in answer to her question, your hands falling once again to grab at her ass, to pull your bodies closer both by your hand and the leg that has hooked around her waist.
Wanda does as she’s promised, though her pace is still slow, still coaxing the small, high-pitched moans from your lips as she desires. Your muscles are incredibly tense, and though you’ve spent the past hours warming and moving them, you feel so shell-shocked with pleasure that your body is hardly able to move, other than the instinctual rocking of your hips.
“Look in the mirror, princess.” Wanda whispers into your own lips before placing a kiss to them. “I want you to see how good Mommy is making you feel.”
The nickname that she’s claimed for herself has sent another shock of pleasure through you, the butterflies in your stomach only heightening in their flapping. You flutter your eyes open as instructed, always the most obedient for Ms. Maximoff, and though your eyes are blurry, you find yourselves in the mirror.
The image, Wanda enveloping you, her focus so intense on fucking you, her hair messy down her back, the sleeve of her sweater all bunched up around her elbow, makes you tense up. You’ve never felt anything quite like it, and as Wanda’s thumb gently caresses your clit, you feel all of your muscles tense, your squeezing of her ass sure to leave some sort of bruise of its own. Wanda gently kisses you a few more times, her lips grown swollen from the dedication of her kisses. Her fingers continue to glide into you, as she allows you to ride her until your body grows overtired from it and falls limp against the wall.
“Good girl,” Wanda repeats, pressing a wet kiss to your cheek before she backs up only a little, looks over you, sees how flushed your skin has become, how heavy your eyelids are. She adores the little mess of a girl she’s made of you, and as she removes her hand from your pants, licks it clean, she cannot help but feel proud of herself.
By the time you open your eyes, Wanda has returned to her typical worrying self, though she looks so impossibly relaxed. Her skin is pink from your shared warmth, her lipstick so very messy, it makes you giggle a little.
“Please, let me drive you home?” She practically begs, but you take no convincing. You assess your appearance for only a moment before racing to her side, looping your arm around hers and grabbing your bag. You shyly press a kiss to her cheek as you step out into the winter, the air bitingly cold, yet you don’t feel it, for your entire body is still radiating from Wanda’s heat.
#🍼 ݁˖ 𐙚 my fics! 𓂃 ࣪ ◌#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#mommy!wanda#marvel fanfiction#wanda maximoff fanfic#wlw nsft#smut fanfic
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magnetic mishap | bucky barnes
summary: you bought magnets for Bucky's arm, forgetting that vibranium is not magnetic
warnings: fluff, no use of y/n, gn!reader, drunk!reader, alcohol consumption, tears, bucky in love™ (if i missed any pls lmk!)
word count: 0.8k
A/N: (i'd previously posted this on another account but i decided to just post it here instead, so if you've read this before, pretend like you didn't :P) i saw a post about this and i couldn't help myself! this is my first ever bucky fic! i hope i did him justice :) English is not my first language, so I apologize for any grammar/ spelling mistakes. feedback is appreciated!
The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the floor lamp casting a warm ambiance. Bucky Barnes sat on the olive-colored couch, resting his head on the taupe throw pillows you'd fawned over at the flea market, obsessing over the embroidered leaves on the pillows, exclaiming how well they'd match with the couch you'd bought when you first moved in the apartment. That was a memory he was fond of. It was after your first year together- when you moved in together, deciding to look for apartments in Brooklyn.
His legs were propped up comfortably on the other end of the couch. A copy of The Hobbit you gifted him sat in his hands, his eyes flitting over each word, totally engrossed in the worn-out book with deckle edges and a spine that can barely hold up itself he'd read many times.
He looked up from his reading as muffled giggles and the clinking of keys sounded from outside, along with a few curse words as you tried to fit the keys into the lock. After a minute or so, the front door creaked open, and in you came, a stumbling, drunken mess. Bucky's heart skipped a beat at the sight of you, his heart constricting at the bright look on your face as your eyes zeroed in on him.
"Hi, baby!" You called out, your voice slightly slurred with the telltale signs of a fun night out with your friends.
Bucky closed his book, placed it on the coffee table, and waited for you to reach the couch, a smile spreading across his face. He loved these moments- when you returned home all giddy and carefree. You were a ray of sunshine, lighting up his dark, lonely world.
"Hey, sweetheart," Bucky replied, his voice filled with affection, and adoration, as he watched you walk towards him. His eyes were twinkling with love as you finally reached him. He wrapped his arms around your waist, guiding you into his lap, and you immediately snuggled up, like it was second nature for you- which it was. "You had a good time tonight?"
You nodded enthusiastically, your head all but bopped up and down and swayed from side to side, your face flushed. "The best time! We danced, and- and we... oh! I have something for you!" You reached into your purse, retrieving a small package wrapped in colorful paper.
Bucky's curiosity was piqued as he took the package from you, carefully unwrapping it, and revealing a set of magnets. His eyes widened in surprise. "Magnets?"
You nodded again, a mischievous glint in your eyes. "For your arm!" Your words slurred slightly as you laughed, your intoxication making the idea seem absolutely brilliant.
You took out a heart-shaped magnet, trying to stick it on Bucky's arm, to no avail. It kept falling; you huffed, annoyed, and took out another magnet from the set, this time, one shaped like a rocket ship. Aggravation was quick to take the place of your excitement when it kept falling as well.
Bucky chuckled softly, his heart melting at your drunken enthusiasm. He glanced down at his vibranium arm, knowing that the magnets wouldn't stick, he felt kind of guilty having to break the news to you. "Doll, vibranium isn't magnetic."
Your smile faltered, and your brows furrowed in disappointment. Your intoxicated glee quickly transformed into genuine heartbreak, as tears welled up in your eyes. "I... I didn't think about that," you murmured, voice laced with sadness and disappointment.
Bucky's heart ached at the sight of your distress. He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb wiping away a tear that had escaped. "Hey, hey, it's alright," he whispered soothingly, a hint of amusement in his voice. "You didn't know. It's the thought that counts."
You sniffled, lower lip trembling. "But I wanted to your arm to look even cooler. Imagine how cool it would look with magnets, Buck."
Bucky's heart swelled with love and adoration. He had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing at your antics. He pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you sighed at the feathery touch of his lips, seemingly content for the time being.
"I love you, Bucky," you whispered, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips, your eyes shimmering with affection.
"I love you more than words can express," Bucky confessed, his voice filled with sincerity.
At that moment, everything else faded away. Sat in Bucky's lap, wrapped in his arms, your love for one another radiating throughout the room.
"C'mon," Bucky ushered, "let's get you to bed, honey." His voice was gentle.
"Next time, I'm getting stickers," you mumbled to yourself, a very serious look on your face.
Bucky smiled blissfully, a blush adorning his face. As he held you, he knew that his love for you was unbreakable, even in the face of small disappointments. Your bond was stronger than any magnet could ever be.
i hope you liked it, pls let me know what you thought of this. likes, comments, and reblogs are highly appreciated♡
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky fanfic#james buchanan barnes#winter soldier#james bucky barnes#the winter soldier#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes imagine#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes one shot
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Till the day that I die | OP81 x Reader
pairing . . . oscar piastri x dyslexic!youtuber!reader
summary . . . Being dyslexic on social media may be hard, but your knight in shining armour is always there to defend you
request . . . yes!! based on this request
word count . . . N/A
warnings . . . none!
faceclaim . . . blanca soler MY WIFE and lily zneimer for couple posts!
alexavia yaps . . . havent written a smau in a while im afraid ive forgotten how </3 ANYHOW im saur happy ydek bc i dont have to edit this?? i dont have to read it 75 times for mistakes?? MY DYSLEXIC ASS CAN BE FREE!!!!! ps this is LITTERED with refrences! also ignore how i kind off didnt follow the request I DIDNT KNOW HOW TO DO IT. dechipher the captions yallselves im too lazy to do it
y/n l/n posted a new video !
comments !
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, yourbsf, lando_norris and 2.2M others
yourusername grmw vlog is out!!! had so fun filsming it and we had an ella feaure included!!! (ella is y/n's dog!)
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y/nfan5 WOOHOO!!!!!
oscarpiastri Can't wait to have you in my arms
yourusername aww osc youre too sweet <3
oscarpiastri Only for you <3
f1_girly are those typos in the caption or am i tweaking
y/nswifeyy. They are! Y/n is dyslexic so every once in a while we get a typo or two
username1 im looking DISRESPECTFULLY
username2 how did she misspell two very easy words? girl go back to school
oscarpiastri She's dyslexic, you're not, so go fuck yourself
username3 OSCAR???
oscarloverr. I DIDNT KNOW OSCAR HAD IT IN HIM
y/nsno1fan guys IGNORE OSCAR AND LOOK AT Y/N
oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, lando_norris, nicole.piastri and 2.9M others
oscarpiastri With the love of my life once again tagged: yourusername
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username4 I CAN DO ANYTHING PLS JUST LET ME HIT
charlesleclerc Don't bully my daughter-in-law
yourusername CHARLS ILYSM
yourusername BEST FATHER IN LAW I'VE EVR HAD
charlesleclerc I'm the only one you have?
yourusername doesn't mayyer
oscarpiastri Thank you Charles
lando_norris photo credits?
yourusername up mya ss
lando_norris wow y/n i thouht we were frinds
yourusername i ony like you because we're both dyslexic don't flatter yourslef mr norris
hater2 How do you mess up the word 'yourself' so bad?
yourusername magic
oscarpiastri Do you not have a life? Or is it hating on my girlfriend?
yourusername ate
oscarpiastri Thank you 😊
username5 HELP OSCAR IS WHIPPED FOR Y/N
username6 who ISNT
username5 good point
plmvia Y/n i love you pls don't die
f1_3112 y/n ate, left no crumbs, wiped the plate clean and oscar is meh ig
yourusername i love you
oscarpiastri me more
yourusername till the day that i die i love you more
oscarpiastri MY HEART
y/n l/n posted a new video !
comments !
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, lando_norris, nicole.piastri and 3.7M others
yourusername small phtotdup since my boyafriend is away at war ad is begging for pcitures </3 also a new vlog is out!
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username7 OH. MY. GOD. how hard is it for you to spell properly?
oscarpiastri As hard as it is for you to get a life and stop hating
yourusername gnawing at the bars of my enclisure that was hit
oscarpiastri Hit?
lando_norris she meant hot, oscar. hot
yourusername H-O-T-T-O-G-O you cna tae me hot to go!!!!!!!!!
oscarpiastri Stunning as always
oscarpiastri Zak better strap me down to the car because I am so close to booking a flight back home
oscarpiastri I've watched all your vlogs thrice
username8 my wife guys back off
oscarpiastri Uhm no?
username8 OMG OSCAR REPLIED SOS
oscarpiastri Text me please
yourusername will do
lando_norris this would've been a normal post if oscar wasn't a sappy muppet
yourusername oi leave my boyfriend alone
oscarpiastri When she defends you from haters <3
lando_norris you bring out a side in him that no one wants to see
yourusername sorry?
lando_norris you better be
username9 MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER
y/nplsmarryme gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous omg
verchstappan we're so back
oscah.pastry SHES MY IDOL
yourusername
liked by oscarpiastri, lando_norris, yourbsf and 3.2M others
yourusername finally reunited with my beuatufil biyfriend and the love of my life <33 love you till the die that iday tagged: oscarpiastri
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oscarpiastri I swear to god if someone comments about the typos in the caption I will personally run you over with my F1 car
yourusername so romantic 😍
oscarpiastri All for you ❤
lando_norris till the die that i day?
yourusername FUCK
oscarpiastri It's alright I got the meaning
yourusername i hare this dysexia
yourusername LANDO I SWEAR TO GOD
lando_norris I DIDN'T EVEN SAY ANYTHING
yourusername you were about to
lando_norris sigh
superyuki22 i need this in my life
username10 mother y/n feed us some ynoscar crumbs
username11 if i was oscar id have a meltdown everyday out of stress of losing this goddess
username12 this is the best love story in the history of love stories
username13 im calling it theyre romeo and juliet
ynshoee_ this is so goals what
lawsons.lawyer parasocial relationship
charlesleclerc You two are very cute
yourusername so are you and alex!!
charlesleclerc You have my permission to propose
yourusername who said i alrwady didn?
charlesleclerc Okay.....
oscarpiastri
liked by yourusername, nicole.piastri, charlesleclerc and 3M others
oscarpiastri Happy anniversary, my love. From sneaking glances in the school hallways to cheering me on from the paddock, you’ve been my constant through it all. No matter how fast life moves, you’ll always be my greatest win. I love you forever, always. tagged: yourusername
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redbullb1tch max can keep his championships this is the REAL win
ynfann18 PREACH.
nicole.piastri The greatest prize Osc has ever won! Here's to many more!!
yourusername thank you mama piastri 🥹 🫶
oscarpiastri Thank you mum <3
lando_norris nothing more iconic than this relationship
yourusername not even your win?
lando_norris let's not get ahead of ourselves
oscarpiastri You said it yourself?
lando_norris well don't take it so seriously
h4m1lt0ns44 if racing is all i need to pull someone like y/n i'd be a world champion
yourbsf from delievering your notes to each other in high school to seeing you celebrate half a decade of this relationship, you two have the best relationship ever 🫶
yourusername thank you sm ml <33 hope to see you in the paddock with your f1 bf!
oscarpiastri Thank you, bsf/name!! I'll try my best to matchmake you with a driver so N/n can see you in the paddock more often
yourusername OSC
oscarpiastri Anything to make you happy ❤
lando_norris hey yourbsf
oscarpiastri Oh?
username14 THE NO.1 COUPLE ON THIS EARTH FRRRR
username15 i'm so sick i want this RIGHT NOW
username16 my fav thing about them is oscar defending y/n's dyslexia
username17 If your man isn't like Oscar then dump him
yourusername you always make me feel like the most special girl in the world, even when your life is driving 300 kilometres per hour 🥹 im so proud of you, not just for what you’ve acheived on the track but for who you are off it too 🫶 ill love you till the day that I die, my favorit boy forever 🥰
oscarpiastri You’ll always be my greatest achievement, on or off the track. I love you more than words, forever and always. ❤️
yourusername till the day that i die
fin.
taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)
#alexavia writes 🍒#alexavia yaps 🍒#f1#formula 1#formula one#f1 x reader#f1 x y/n#f1 x you#x reader#oscar piastri#op81#oscar piastri fic#smau#fic#fanfic#f1 smau#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri smau#f1 social media#f1 fanfic#racing driver#racing#f1 racing#oscar piastri x y/n#social media#social media fic#dyslexia#dyslexic#blanca soler#youtube
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