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luveline · 1 year ago

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(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

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fastandcarlos · 7 months ago

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When You Fall Asleep Still Wearing Your Makeup : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

Taking your makeup off wasn’t the difficult job for Max when he noticed that you still had it on, the hardest job was turning you over so you weren’t on your side so Max could get to your face. You were such a heavy sleeper that it proved to be a trickier job than Max imagined. Once you were on your back, Max carefully brushed your hair out of your face before gently wiping the wipe over your face. Max didn’t pay attention to the small details often, but when it came to you, he made sure to remove every last bit of makeup that was on your face.

» Lando Norris

He felt incredibly guilty as Lando shook you awake having spotted that you still had your makeup on. Your relationship was still fairly new and Lando didn’t trust himself to go looking through your drawers to find your makeup wipes. His smile was soft as your eyes opened, taking a moment to realise what was going on. “Sorry, I didn’t want to leave you like this,” Lando whispered, listening as you told him where the wipes were. He soon told you to go back to sleep, going to get a wipe before returning, taking your makeup off for you whilst you fell asleep again.

» Charles LeClerc

His heart melted as Charles tried his best to wipe off your makeup for you, as your hand kept swatting him aside, unsure what the ticklish feeling was that kept brushing over your face. Charles was terrified that he would end up waking you up, but he knew how important it was for you to go to bed with a fresh face. Every time your hand came up, he paused, waiting for you to settle back down before wiping again, carefully making sure that he covered your whole face, and tried his best to tickle you as little as possible.

» Oscar Piastri

He was sure he spent most of the night debating what to do as Oscar watched you fall asleep with your makeup on, he just couldn’t make up his mind about what to do with you. Part of him knew taking it off would be helpful for you, but the other part of him was worried that he would end up waking you up. In the end, Oscar called his sisters for a bit of advice, letting them guide him through the process of taking your makeup off so that he could do as good a job as possible whilst simultaneously making sure that you didn’t stir.

» George Russell

If there was one thing that George knew not to do, it was wake you up once you had fallen asleep. He’d never experienced an anger like it the one time he did so and promised himself that he would never do it again. When George noticed your makeup was still on, he knew there was little he could do that night. However in the morning, he made sure to get all your products out and leave them out in the bathroom with a note reminding you to take extra care with your routine as you’d left your makeup on the night before.

» Carlos Sainz

He couldn’t believe it as Carlos walked into the bathroom to find you sat on the toilet with your head slumped against the sink. One hand rested under your head whilst the other held onto a dirtied makeup wipe, the job you were halfway through before falling asleep. Carlos was stuck for a moment before deciding to lift you up and carry you to bed. Once you were tucked in he got a fresh wipe, discarding the dried up one that you held, and finished the job that you had started, going over where you had also wiped too, just to be on the safe side.

» Daniel Ricciardo

It started out as an easy job for Daniel, when he saw your makeup was still on he was more than happy to take it off for you. Yet, as he wiped over your eyes, not being particularly careful, Daniel couldn’t help but snigger as your eyeliner and mascara spread to leave two black marks around your eyes. His laughter was loud enough to make you stir, leaving Daniel in a state of panic. “Sorry, sorry,” he hurriedly said, covering his mouth with his free hand whilst the other tidied up your eye makeup to stop him laughing as quickly as possible.

» Lewis Hamilton

A soft smile formed on Lewis’ face when he saw that you had fallen asleep with your makeup on, knowing how annoyed you would be if you woke up the following morning and found you hadn’t taken it off. Being the gentleman that he was, Lewis went and got one of your makeup wipes from the bathroom, gently wiping over your face to remove your makeup. His heart dropped when you stirred, whispering softly, “don’t worry, sleep angel,” before carrying on. His touch was delicate and gentle, studying you closely to make sure it was all gone before letting you sleep again.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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katsu28 · 3 months ago

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summer's golden haze - chapter five

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: a day trip to ibiza, a nightclub, and max—who can't keep his mouth shut. (5.3k)

a/n: apologies for the lack of new chapters these past few months! writer’s block is such a bitch but i’m happy to say that i am back and working on this series as best i can <3

previous chapter | masterlist

Everything people say about time flying when you’re having fun has never been truer. You’ve developed a close friendship with Lando and his friends, and something even better with the boy himself.

You’d say you were surprised at how fast you’ve fallen for him, but you’d be lying. Sure, you haven’t known him long at all, but it wasn’t hard to figure out that Lando Norris really was that missing thing in your life. He slots in like he was meant to, just as you hoped he would.

You’ve all found yourselves spending more time at their place than yours because it’s just nicer. Today is no different.

Lando’s chin sits hooked over your shoulder comfortably, stubble on his face a little scratchy, but it doesn’t annoy you. Especially not with the way the thumb of his hand on your waist is rubbing circles into the sliver of bare skin between your top and shorts.

He’s warm to the touch, but not unbearably so, more like a comforting warmth draped against you as he nuzzles closer.

He likes to be close to you, you've learned very quickly—more often than not always having some part of him touching you. Fingers intertwined with yours, an arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your waist. When you're sitting, it's a thigh pressed against yours, a warm palm blanketing your knee.

Right now, he’s decided on sharing the same sun lounger as you, wedged himself in behind you comfortably.

Normally, you might’ve been put off by the sheer amount of casual physical affection he shows, but you can’t bring yourself to mind it. You want to be close to him all the time too, you’re just taking a little longer to warm up to instigating it.

“What’re you lot up to tomorrow?” He asks casually, walking his fingers down your arm.

“Mm, nothing probably. Might just do a beach day and chill out. Maybe take a little walk, I dunno.” You shrug. “You?”

“Flying to Ibiza for the day. My mate Martin’s doing a DJ thing at a club there, figured we’d go support a friend.”

You pout up at him, cooing. “You guys are so sweet.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright. Come off it now.” He rolls his eyes, pinching your hip. You squirm at the ticklish feeling, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek. He perks up then, and you swear you can almost see the gears turning in his brain. “Would you guys wanna come with us? We could hit up the beach together, hit up Martin’s gig at night, then fly back here afterwards.”

“It’s a boys’ day trip, we wouldn’t want to crash it,” You insist, shaking your head. “We’ll see each other when you get back.”

“But I’ll miss you.” He frowns, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I think you’ll be fine.”

He buries his nose into the crook of your neck, muffling his response. “No, I think I might die.”

It’s kind of sweet, you think, that Lando gets so pouty over not getting to see you for just a day. One might call him clingy, but you find it cute.

You attest it to the two of you still being in the honeymoon phase of your relationship, and it makes you happy, but something else gnaws at your stomach. You’re not even sure what it is.

Before you can say anything, he angles his head towards the rest of the group, covering your ears gently before shouting, “Oi! We’re all going to Ibiza tomorrow, it’s been settled already. We’ll swing round yours to pick you girls up, then head to the airport.”

He gets no objections from anyone, which you didn’t think he would, and it makes him beam.

You try to see it from his perspective. Sun, sand, beautiful views. The two of you get to spend the day together on the gorgeous beaches of Ibiza. If you put aside your worries, everything sounds wonderful.

So why do you have this nagging feeling this isn't going to go as smoothly as Lando says it will?

-------

It seems like you’ve just blinked and suddenly it’s the next morning and you’re heading into the hangar of a private airstrip.

The sun has barely begun to peek over the horizon, and honestly, you’re still half asleep. Most of your weight is leaned against Lando’s shoulder, who’s got a strong arm slung around your waist even as he chats away with his boys on the way in.

You haven’t packed much at all, just a bag with a nicer outfit you can change into before going to the club. Lando insisted on carrying it for you, so it sits looped over his other shoulder.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting when he’d brought up flying to Ibiza just for the day, but for some reason, the private jet your gaze lands on as soon as you enter the hangar has you a bit stunned for words. The unfamiliarity of your surroundings wakes you up even more as you ascend the stairs onto the jet.

A long sofa stretches across the wall opposite you, sleek white leather to match the cushy armchair you’ve settled into. Elegant polished dark wood tables separate the banks of chairs, and there’s a fully stocked bar at the back. Even the lighting of the cabin screams money, not those awful dim blue lights on commercial airlines.

This is the kind of thing you’ve only seen in movies, and now here you are about to enjoy a few hours on one with your very new, very rich boyfriend. It feels unreal, and honestly a little daunting.

Then in the back of your mind, you remember that this is probably just how his life is. Private jets and day trips to beautiful places, anything he wants anytime he wants it.

It’s one of two thoughts echoing through your head through the whole flight, the second one being that you don’t belong here. You don’t ride along in chartered jets, or go on impromptu day trips to beautiful islands. This is all completely uncharted territory for you and it makes your stomach twist, but you’re able to just pass it off as being a nervous flier.

Lando holds your hand, makes sure you’re comfortable the whole time, and that’s that. There’s no need to worry him about what’s running rampant through your mind.

Thankfully, you fall asleep not too long into the flight, and you don’t wake up until you’re on the ground in Ibiza. From there, it feels like a whirlwind has taken hold of you. You’re put into a car, driving, driving, driving god knows where.

Lando won’t tell you a thing, just kisses your cheek and tells you not to worry. And just when you think you’re at your destination, you’re squeezed into a golf cart that eventually drops you off at a seemingly private marina.

A large yacht sits before you, pristine white and polished to perfection. Lando beams, holding his arms out to the side like a game show host. “Ta-da! Look what we got for the day!”

You’re at a loss for words. When he’d agreed to a joint beach day, you thought you’d actually be going to…well, a beach.

“How the fuck did you manage to charter a yacht on such short notice?” Maren asks, clearly disbelieving.

Lando aims a look at her over his sunglasses, arching a brow. “What, like it’s hard?”

“Don’t do Elle Woods. You can’t pull it off,” Samira chimes in, to which Max nods his agreement.

“Everyone’s a critic nowadays,” Lando mutters under his breath, flipping both of them off. “Just get on the boat, dream killers!”

Your friends seem to be taking it in a much better stride than you are, because they go exploring the moment they climb right on alongside the rest of the boys, chattering excitedly. You, on the other hand, have to take a moment after Lando helps you on.

“So? What do you think?” He asks earnestly, rocking on the balls of his feet.

“It’s gorgeous,” You admit, chuckling nervously. “I didn’t know you were planning on getting a yacht.”

“Yeah, I got it so we could have the day to ourselves. Dock somewhere remote, swim and have fun without anyone else around. I know how important privacy is to you, and I wanted you to be able to relax today.”

It hits you like a heavyweight right then. Lando did this for you.

Went through all these last minute hoops that probably cost a fortune just so you’d feel comfortable. It has to be the sweetest, albeit most outrageous, thing anyone’s ever done for you.

You close the distance between you in two steps, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. The force of it makes him stumble back a little bit, but he’s quick to recover, nuzzling deep into the crook of your neck with a smile you can feel pressed against your skin.

“That was one hell of a thank you,” He breathes. You shrug innocently and he laughs, slinging an arm around your shoulders. “Ready to have some fun?”

Turns out fun means putting an anchor down just off the shore of some small island not too far away. The day is starting to heat up a bit, perfect for you and the girls to stretch out on the cushioned benches and soak up the sun whilst the boys mess around in the water off the back of the boat.

You’re not sure how long you lay there, but you’re about ready to drift off when you feel something on your face. A drop of water hits you square in the forehead, another hits your cheek, and it makes you peek one eye open.

Lando stands right above you, beaming down at you as he drips water everywhere.

“Hi. Water’s nice,” He says, shaking his hair out not unlike a dog would shake out its fur. Droplets spray all over you with the action, making you squeeze your eyes shut momentarily.

You wipe the water off your face with an amused chuckle. “Yeah, I think I can tell. Thanks for that, by the way.”

“You should come in.”

“Maybe later. My sunscreen might not be dry yet.”

“I think it’s plenty dry.”

You arch a brow at his insistence, suspicious of the mischievous smile curving his lips, the glint in his eyes. He’s got something in that mind of his, and you’re starting to grasp what it might be. You sit up, inching away from him as he creeps closer. “Stop it. Lando, no. Don’t even think about it!”

He flops on top of you gently, enough to make you roll your eyes but not enough to smother you. “Lovely place to have a lay, innit?” He says innocently, squinting down at you.

“It was,” You groan dramatically, wrinkling your nose at the puddle of water beginning to pool around you. “Now I’m being crushed.”

“Are you calling me fat?”

“No, no, the words you're looking for are big and strong and handsome. Did I mention the word strong?”

“Twice, but I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

“Careful, or I might start to think you have a praise kink,” You joke. Though judging by the immediate blush that blooms across his cheeks and ears, you might’ve just discovered something about your boyfriend. “Oh! You—I didn’t mean it like—”

His lips press against yours before you can finish your sentence as if to deter you from finishing your sentence, and you forget what you were saying in the first place. You’ve found that this is usually the case any time Lando kisses you, any and all previous thoughts disappearing without a trace only to be taken up by one singular thing—him.

“Get a room, you two!” Samira grumbles, bringing you back to reality. “Happy for you and all, but I’m trying to sleep over here.”

Right.

You’d forgotten you were laying right next to her. Evidently Lando has too, because he whines something unintelligible, face hot against your bare skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck in embarrassment.

“Sorry,” You mumble, giving Lando a pat on the back to make him get off you. He does so, but not without a pout. The quick kiss you press to his shoulder when you pull yourself into an upright position is enough to settle him.

He tilts his head invitingly, eyes bright now. “Come swim?”

“Is the water nice?”

“It’d be nicer if you were in it.”

“I’m serious, Lando! Is it cold?”

“Guess you’ll just have to jump in and see.” He shrugs, winks at you playfully before ambling away.

You can’t help but admire Lando as he walks away from you, broad shoulders on full display, muscles shifting as he stretches his arms high over his head. Moles dot the expanse of his back, and it makes you want to trace your fingers along his tanned skin like you’re playing connect the dots.

You’re expecting him to head for the back of the boat, but he goes towards the ladder heading up to the roof of the boat.

“Now what exactly do you think you’re doing?” You call after him, raising your hand to block the sun shining in your eyes.

“Jumping off the roof!”

“Are you serious?”

“It’s totally safe! I’ve done it before,” Lando reasons, waiting until he reaches the top of the ladder to offer you a smile. Somehow that doesn’t make you feel any better about him taking a flying leap from that high. “Wanna give it a go?”

The words fuck and no teeter at the very tip of your tongue, but he’s grinning so big, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you weren’t at least a little bit intrigued.

Jumping off the roof of a yacht into crystal clear waters isn’t something you’ve ever thought you’d do, but then again, you’ve been doing a lot of things you never thought you’d do on this trip.

“If I die, I’m haunting your ass forever,” You warn. Once you’re up the ladder on your own, you accept his outstretched hand onto the roof as he leads you carefully to the edge, fingers firmly tangled with yours.

“There’s no one I’d rather be haunted by.”

He leaps, taking you with him before you can even think of a response, and for a few moments, you feel weightless, falling through the air with nothing but Lando’s hand to ground you. It feels less terrifying and more freeing than you’d thought.

You squeeze your eyes shut just before you hit the water, keeping them closed as you sink deeper and deeper. Lando’s hand leaves yours, but you don’t panic. You let yourself float, reveling in the quiet of being underwater until you start to feel it in your chest, and only then do you push towards the surface in a flume of bubbles.

The breath of air you inhale once you get above water is refreshing, and you tip your chin towards the sky, taking in the warm sunlight with a sigh. You wipe away the water cascading down your face before paddling back towards the boat, where Lando is sitting with his legs hanging off the back of it, waving at you.

“What’d you think?” He asks earnestly once he’s pulled you out of the water to sit next to him.

“That was…exhilarating.”

“See, I told you it was fun! Stick with me, baby, I’ll show you the world.”

Somehow, you don’t doubt that. If you’re an example of playing it safe, Lando is the definition of full sending it, impulse and chaos behind a handsome face.

-------

The day flies by, and before you know it, it’s time to head back to shore. Thankfully, the yacht is well equipped with a shower in the bathroom, so you’re able to freshen up nicely when the time comes.

Lando lets out a low whistle when you emerge back out onto the deck, eyes dragging down your whole body, drinking in the sight of you with his lower lip tugged between his teeth. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, makes your cheeks flame hot.

“Damn, you’re hot, girl!” He grins, winking at you.

“Stop it,” You huff, adjusting the strap of your heel.

“What? It’s true! Can’t I pay my hot girlfriend a compliment?” He argues, looking absolutely giddy. “C’mon, give me a spin.” You roll your eyes but oblige, and he whistles again. “My god, I’m a lucky guy.”

“You’re so ridiculous,” You chuckle, letting yourself be tucked under his arm as you make your way to join the rest of your friends.

“If ridiculous means obsessed with you, then yes, I am ridiculous.”

The place is only a stone’s throw away from the public beach near the marina and already bouncing when you get there. You’re expecting to fold into the crowd of people, but Lando skirts around it, heading for the very front of the giant area, towards the DJ box.

Maren’s hand clamps around your arm, squeezing tightly. “That’s Martin fucking Garrix!” She hisses, jutting her chin towards the stage aggressively. “You didn’t tell us Lando’s friend Martin was Martin fucking Garrix!”

“He didn’t even tell me, how was I supposed to know?!” is all you can utter back in response.

You’re just as taken by surprise as she is. You’d have never expected Lando’s friend Martin to be Martin Garrix. It’s not a connection you would’ve made at all, but you keep forgetting Lando is actually famous. Of course he has famous friends.

Martin gestures for one of the other people there to take over the set, swapping out to come say hello as soon as he spots Lando. Both boys sport identical massive smiles.

“Mate, it is good to see you again,” He says earnestly, bringing Lando into a tight hug. “I’ve been meaning to make it out to a race! You look great out there, though.”

Lando shrugs, enthusiasm flickering a little at the mention of work, but only for a split second. “Could be doing better, but yeah, cheers!”

Martin’s eyes flick over to you and he must get the sense that you’re a little nervous, because his smile turns more polite. “See you’ve made some new friends. Nice to meet you all, I’m Martin.” Then he notices how Lando’s moved closer to be next to you and you’re sure he’s already got things figured out. “Enjoy the set! I’m sure Lando will take good care of you.”

A few drinks in your system helps relax the knot of nerves sitting on your chest a significant amount, enough so to where you’ve actually started to enjoy yourself.

Lando’s hands slide around your waist from behind to sit at your hips, chest pressed up against your back as his chin drops down to nestle in the crook of your neck. He moves with the beat and you find yourself following, guided by his firm grip.

It’s so easy to get lost in him. You want to let yourself get lost in him, let yourself sink back into him and let your inhibitions free. But you can’t.

Anyone can see you right now, seeing as you’re not exactly in a private place. You’re tucked off to the side, partially obscured by Martin’s booth and entourage, but it wouldn’t be hard for someone to take a good look and recognize Lando, even with the smoke and flashing lights.

It’s risky to stay like this, and you want to tell him that, but then his lips press against the skin of your shoulder tenderly and your brain nearly short circuits. Heat blooms where he kisses you, traveling up to your cheeks and down to your toes like you've just been standing too close to a flickering fire.

It isn’t until his nose nudges in right behind your ear, and his warm breath fans across your heated skin, that you suddenly feel like you can’t breathe. The loud music dulls down into background noise to the pounding of your heart in your ears.

Taking a shuddering inhale, you wriggle free of Lando’s grip, mumbling something to him about needing air as best you can and taking off before he can figure out what’s happening.

You squeeze through the crowd rather forcefully, just needing to get somewhere without people, somewhere quiet where you can catch your breath and calm yourself down.

Somehow you find yourself back at the beach, throwing yourself down onto a bench and burying your face into your hands with a frustrated, strangled groan.

You don’t even know what’s wrong. Everything is good—you’re with your best friends, with Lando, and you’re supposed to be having fun. So why do you feel like you’re not supposed to be here?

The answer is a mystery even to you.

Watching the gentle waves lap over the shore proves rather soothing, a repetitive back and forth that helps ease your mind just the slightest bit. Only a few people mill around at this time of night, and they pay you no notice. You’re free to drown in your own thoughts without any of them being any the wiser.

Footsteps approach some time later. How long, you’re not exactly sure—wallowing in your own self pity feels timeless. The tips of a familiar pair of trainers step into your field of vision, and you make yourself let your gaze follow up to see the extremely concerned face of their owner.

Lando doesn’t say anything when you meet his eyes, just holds out his hand for you to take. When all you do is blink at him, then he speaks. “C’mon, let’s take a walk.” He tilts his head over his shoulder, towards the beach behind him.

“I can’t walk on sand in these heels,” You sniff, scowling a little bit. It’s a shit excuse, you know that, but you don’t feel like being very cooperative right now.

“I’ll hold them,” He replies, toeing off his own shoes first. You give in almost too easily, slipping off yours to give to him and accepting his other hand up. His fingers immediately intertwine with yours, tugging you closer to him as you step into the sand.

You walk along the shore for a while before either of you feel like saying anything, and it’s him who speaks first.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks gently. Rather than saying anything, you press your lips together. “C’mon, will you talk to me? Please?” His voice is so soft, so full of genuine concern for you it makes you start to feel bad. “I think it’ll make you feel better, instead of holding everything in.”

“All of this—the jet, the yacht, everything—it’s a lot to take in,” You admit quietly, staring hard at the sand in front of you. “And I know you did it for me, so I’d feel comfortable, and I love how thoughtful you are when it comes to these things. But I…this is all completely new for me. Like, I can’t help but feel like such an outsider.”

Lando’s expression crumples. “Oh. I didn’t mean to—that wasn’t my intention. To make you feel like you don’t belong.”

“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.”

“This sounds like the start of a romcom breakup scene,” He says, then he freezes, brows furrowing. “Wait, is this—”

“No! No, I’m not breaking up with you. I’m just…saying things.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking thoughtful. “How can I fix this, how can I help with what you’re feeling?”

You smile at him, grateful that he’s asking even though there isn’t anything for him to do about how you’re feeling. Putting it out there is already starting to help, actually. You were scared about your thoughts and feelings being cast aside, but Lando hasn’t done that. He’s nothing but kind and caring about it. About you.

“I’m fine, Lando. Thank you though, you’re sweet,” You assure him, kissing his cheek. “Mind if we walk a little longer before going back to Martin’s set?”

“We don’t have to go back,” He suggests. “We can stay here, go somewhere else, anything you want.”

“I want to go back. It’ll be fun,” You say, nodding firmly. The action is meant to reassure yourself more so than Lando, but he’s the one who looks wary.

His head cocks to the side, brows furrowing in gentle caution. “Are you sure?”

“Positive. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

-------

The jet is quiet on the way back to Greece after Martin’s gig lets out, with good reason. It’s late at night, bordering on very early morning, and everyone’s asleep except you and Max, who’s on the phone with his girlfriend.

Judging by the way Lando immediately found his way into your space as soon as you all settled in for the flight and promptly conked out not five minutes later, he's exhausted.

You glance down at the boy currently snoozing away curled up with his head in your lap, one of your hands clutched between both of his. His chest rises and falls rhythmically in his sleep, long lashes fluttering against the tops of his cheekbones.

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever been as content with someone as you are now with Lando. Even though things between you are still new, you feel like you really can be yourself without judgement around him too. And that talk you’d had at the beach has definitely lifted the weight off your shoulders a good amount.

Still, there’s something else you have to get off your chest. You turn your gaze on the only other person you can talk to right now, the one person you do want to talk to.

Max ends his call shortly after with a quiet love you, see you soon, catching your eye with a sheepish smile as he sets the phone down on the table. “Pietra says hi. She’s looking forward to meeting you guys when she flies in.”

“We’re excited to meet her too, she sounds amazing.”

“Yeah, she is,” Max sighs. Then he squints at you, like he knows something is amiss. “Is everything alright? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

You nod carefully, absentmindedly winding one of Lando’s springy curls around your finger. He exhales a little harder in his sleep when you let it bounce back into place but doesn’t wake up, just snuggles deeper into you. “It’s kind of a weird thing to bring up, but I feel like I have to ask.”

“Anything, go ahead. We’re friends, aren’t we?” It’s actually reassuring to know that Max’s opinion on you hasn’t changed since you’d gotten together with his best friend. You’re still friends just the same. That thought helps you muster up the courage to say what’s been weighing on you.

“Are you okay with us? Lando and I, I mean.”

You aren’t seeking his approval or anything, you just want him to be okay with the two of you. Or maybe you are, you’re not really sure. Max is Lando’s best friend, his brother. Other than Lando’s family, who you can't even think about meeting one day without your stomach churning, he's the person who's known Lando best since they were kids.

All these people, they’re everything to him, and it's important for you to know where they stand.

Max smiles warmly, says your name in that same soft, gentle way Lando always does when you get unsure. “You’re exactly the kind of person Lando needs in his life. Someone away from everything he’s got going on, someone who genuinely cares for him the way you do. You’re perfect for each other, and I hope you know that.”

You swallow the lump rising in your throat, smiling at Max through eyes glossy with welled up tears. His blessing brings you comfort, even if you weren't looking for it. “Thank you.”

“No, I feel like I should be the one thanking you.”

Your brows furrow, head tilting curiously to the side as to what he means. “Me? What did I do?”

“I know Lando’s filled you in about what’s been going on, so you know that he’s had a bit of a rough time lately.” Max says softly, clearing his throat to rid himself of the emotional thickness in his tone. You can tell how much Max really loves and cares for Lando. “He’s not been himself for a while, so this summer break, this trip, it was something that might help him leave it all behind. Just relax and find himself again, ‘cause it wasn’t good for him, bottling it all up like he was.”

Your heart aches for Lando. You can’t help but want to protect him. It was true when you’d been just friends and only grown truer since.

“I wasn’t sure if it was doing him any good, but then we met you, and I swear to god I haven’t seen him smile this much in ages. He’s been so happy, so in love, it’s been—shit, I don’t even know what else I can say other than thank you. You’ve made my best mate himself again, and…I think I owe you everything for that.”

You know there are other parts of his sentence that you should be paying attention to—being the reason Lando feels like himself again, making him happy—but only one thing echoes at the very forefront of your brain. “He’s in love with me?”

Max’s eyes widen almost comically at the realization of what he’s just done. The juxtaposition of the heartfelt conversation you’ve had up until this point with the sudden exaggerated panic in his eyes would’ve cracked you up had you not been stunned by what he’d just let loose. “I really need to learn how to keep my fucking mouth shut.”

“Lando told you he was in love with me?” You press. You’d kick him under the table, but then you’d risk waking up the subject of your conversation. Max just blinks at you, probably trying to figure out a way out of this. “Max.”

“Fuck, fine! Yeah, he told me.” You raise an expectant brow for him to elaborate. “Jesus, did you want a timestamp? He said, I think I’m falling in love with her.”

“He thinks?”

“Well, I don’t know! I’m not a mind reader, am I?” He huffs. Upon seeing your brows furrow, he sighs. “But if I could read his mind, I’d say yes. I’ve known Lando…shit, I dunno, ten years now? And I’ve never seen him like this with anyone else before. You’re special to him.”

“He’s special to me too,” You say softly, stroking a thumb over Lando’s knuckles gently. It should feel strange how much you feel for this boy and how strong those feelings are, but for some reason, it doesn’t. It feels exactly right.

“I feel obligated to give you the usual ��hurt my best friend and I’ll hurt you’ bit, but I know you won’t. You’ve been a great friend these last couple weeks, and I trust you with him. I trust that you’ll love him as much as he loves you. You do, don’t you?”

You sigh, chuckling softly. “Figured out that one easily too, haven’t you?”

“Please, I’ve known since the day you lot came round ours for the barbeque. And both of you are shit at hiding things, by the way. You’d be terrible spies.”

“Thanks, Max. Seriously.”

“For calling you a crappy liar? You’re welcome, I guess?” He’s only joking, but you know he knows what you mean. Max is a really good guy, a really good friend, both to you and to Lando. “And if he ever hurts you, loop me in. I’ll give him a proper beating for hurting my friend.”

“Oh, I will. Avoid the face though, I kinda like it.”

Max snorts, shaking his head playfully. “Yeah, he’s got a nice mug, that one. Real moneymaker.”

The moneymaker is drooling a little bit with his cheek smushed up against your leg, but you pay it no mind. He still looks good.

He’s actually starting to look like your whole world, all wrapped up into one perfectly flawed human being.

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #ln4 #ln4 x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fic #lando norris series #lando norris x fem!reader #lando norris imagine #summer's golden haze

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cozy-cinnamon-roll · 1 year ago

Text

CORRECTION: A masterpiece in THREE parts!!!

Radio Waves - Part 3

Summary - After his last encounter with Alastor, Vox finds himself experiencing strange feelings that won't go away. He knows there’s only one demon who can help him, so Vox decides to pay him a visit.

Word Count - 2500

Vox was in his surveillance room, surrounded by walls filled with screens, displaying footage from his many cameras throughout the Pride Ring.

Vox, however, was preoccupied with his thoughts. Alastor had snuck into the V Tower a week ago and, ever since, Vox found himself unable to stop thinking about their encounter. He kept thinking about Alastor’s wiggling fingers, digging into his ribs. The uncontrollable laughter that the sensations drew from Vox. The way Alastor teased him and how his words managed to intensify the feelings. Vox was craving more, and that craving was increasingly invading his mind.

When Velvette had snuck up behind Vox, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him close for a selfie, Vox flushed, thinking it was a surprise attack. When Valentino pulled Vox in close to cuddle, he was certain that he was about to be wrecked with tickles, but no such luck.

He’s cursed me with his disease, Vox thought to himself, as he paced around the room.

There was only one way for Vox to get these thoughts to stop, and only one demon who could help him do so. Vox knew, however, that he would never be able to ask directly, and would instead have to come up with a way of provoking the demon into attacking him, just as Alastor had before.

After thinking for a while, Vox came up with a plan. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best chance he had at getting these feelings to go away.

Alastor was in his room at the Hazbin Hotel, listening to jazz music on an old radio, when he heard a tapping sound coming from his window.

How curious, Alastor thought, knowing that only one demon had ever used the window as an entry point to his room.

Alastor made his way over to the window, his suspicions being confirmed when he spotted the television-headed Overlord hanging onto the window sill. He thought for a moment about simply leaving Vox there to dangle, before his curiosity got the better of him. Alastor clicked open the latches and slid the window up.

“My my, it appears I have a visitor.” Alastor said as Vox hoisted himself up and into the room through the window. Alastor was standing with his arms folded behind his back, microphone in hand, per usual.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it.” Vox said as he stood, brushing off his jacket. “I only came here because I have a problem, and I believe that you can help.”

Alastor tilted his head to the side.

“You came looking for my assistance?” Alastor said, letting out a small chuckle. “You must be pretty desperate if you came to me of all people, thinking that there was a chance I��d be willing to help.”

Vox felt his head start to heat up. Alastor wasn’t wrong. Vox was taking a gamble going to him, but he felt that his recent experiences with his rival proved that Alastor knew how to handle his current issue, and that he would be more than willing to assist.

Vox tried to keep up a confident front. He didn’t want Alastor to catch on just yet.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that. You just happen to be the perfect demon for what I require.” Vox remarked with a smirk.

“Is that so?” Alastor questioned. “And, why exactly might that be?”

Suddenly, Vox shot his hands under Alastor’s coat and began scribbling his claws all over Alastor’s stomach.

Alastor was taken by surprise. He bent slightly forwards as he began giggling madly, not having the time or warning necessary to prevent the sounds from erupting out of his mouth.

“Because you’re so darn ticklish!” Vox responded with a grin, keeping up his onslaught.

Alastor struggled for a moment to untangle his arms behind his back, before bringing them to his front and grabbing onto one of Vox’s wrists with his free hand.

“Vohohohox! Whahahat are youhou dohohoing?” Alastor giggled out.

“I’m just testing out my old radio.” Vox commented nonchalantly. “I think something’s wrong with the volume, though. It should be much louder. Don’t worry! I know just how to fix it!”

Vox then took advantage of Alastor’s death-grip on his microphone, removing his hands from Alastor to take hold of the artifact, raise it into the air, spin it (and Alastor) around, and sharply yank it back towards himself, causing the Radio Demon to fall backwards onto Vox’s chest.

Vox kept a firm hold on the raised object with his right hand, raking the nails of his left up and down Alastor’s right side.

“This should do the trick!” Vox remarked, a mischievous grin appearing on his face.

Alastor, unwilling to let go of his microphone, was forced to simply endure the attack, gripping Vox’s wrist with his free hand but unable to protect his side. His giggles turned to full-fledged laughter.

“VOHOHOHOX! STOHOHOP THIHIHIHIS IMMEHEHEHEDIATELY!” Alastor managed to say.

“But I thought you enjoyed getting my undivided attention! Isn’t smiling also like… your whole gimmick? I’m just helping you out! Giving you a reason to smile!”

Vox heard the amount of radio static coming from Alastor increase, just before he felt something wrap around his ankles.

The black tendrils secured themselves around Vox before hoisting him into the air, leaving the demon dangling upside-down.

The shock of the event caused Vox to lose his grip on Alastor’s microphone. Alastor collapsed onto the ground, remaining there for a few moments and regaining his breath, before standing to face Vox.

“The tides sure turned quickly, didn’t they, old pal~?” Alastor purred before placing his hands atop Vox’s ribs.

Vox’s heart rate increased. His plan of wrecking Alastor in an effort to get him to retaliate had worked. This is what he had been hoping for. Although, Vox did have to admit, he did enjoy tickling the stuffing out of the guy.

Alastor, with one hand, began lightly tracing his fingers back and forth across Vox’s ribs, moving slowly. With his other hand, Alastor dug his fingers roughly into the spaces between Vox’s ribs, moving quickly.

The duality of the feelings nearly caused Vox’s systems to crash within an instant.

He began laughing madly, unable to escape Alastor’s hands no matter which way he attempted to lean his dangling body.

“NOHOHO! AHAL-AHAHAHAHA! IHIHI’M GOHOHONNA-HAHAHAHA!” Vox attempted to speak, but found that he was barely able to form words.

“Didn’t quite catch that last part, friend!” Alastor said as his devilish grin grew. “Come on, tell me what you said! Don’t leave me hanging!”

Alastor mock-laughed at his own joke, as Vox’s voice began to glitch out.

“Whoops, don’t want to break the T.V. just yet~” Alastor sang out. Without removing his hands, Alastor switched techniques. The hand that was tracing began roughly digging, and vice versa.

A few small sparks of electricity flew from Vox’s head. He stopped attempting to threaten Alastor, as the intense feelings at his ribs clouded his mind. He simply continued to laugh hysterically until Alastor slowed his hands to a stop.

When Vox was once again able to focus his vision, he was met with the Radio Demon’s upside-down grin, stretched out very far. Alastor was clearly enjoying himself.

“It’s a shame I enjoy making people laugh so much. I may just have to keep you here forever, as my little captive audience~” Alastor cooed as he began lightly tracing a single finger around Vox’s stomach.

The light, teasy feeling was driving Vox insane. He had just been tickled to near insanity, but the current, faint sensation, coupled with Alastor’s infernal teasing, seemed to be just as effective in destroying the Overlord.

The buzz of television static began to fill the room as Vox was steadily giggling, trying to catch his breath a bit. Suddenly, the sound of the static gave Vox an idea.

With his arms free, Vox managed to swing himself within arm’s reach of Alastor, grabbing hold of his legs and thrusting them to the side. Alastor fell to the ground, catching himself on his hands. Vox then grabbed hold of Alastor’s ears, pressed them firmly up against his screen, and vibrated his head as violently as he could.

The sensation was completely foreign to Alastor. He didn’t have a cell phone, so he had never experienced the feeling of such a device vibrating against his body. Needless to say, the new sensation had an impact on Alastor.

“RAAAH-” Alastor yelped out in surprise, his radio filter disappearing completely, never before having experienced the sensation currently running through his ears.

The yelp was quickly replaced with laughter, however, as the vibrations from Vox’s screen seemed to reach each and every nerve in Alastor’s ears, lighting them up.

Charlie was walking down one of the hotel’s hallways when she heard it. She wasn’t entirely sure, but she thought that she had just heard a scream come from one of the rooms. Curious, and a bit fearful, she walked towards the rows of doors, listening for another noise.

She was met with the sound of a loud crash, followed by what sounded like a scuffle. Beginning to slightly panic, she hurried down the hall, trying to figure out which room the sounds were coming from.

Alastor was so overwhelmed by the attack on his ears that the tendrils holding Vox retreated, dropping him onto the floor with an audible thud. Vox stopped vibrating and released Alastor’s ears, slightly dazed after falling.

Alastor, face flushed, regained his composure and turned to Vox.

“Why, you little-” Alastor started as he grabbed Vox’s thighs, squeezing them tightly just as Vox had gotten his bearings.

“Dohohon’t yohohou dahahare!” Vox giggled out as he batted at Alastor’s hands.

As Charlie moved closer to the source of the sounds, she heard someone speak.

“Ihihi’m gonna kihihill yohohou!”

She recognized the voice. It was Vox, member of the Three Vees and long-time rival of Alastor.

She suddenly realized that Alastor’s room was just down the hall, and that it must be the source of the noises.

She gasped.

Vox and Alastor must be fighting! A battle between those two could destroy the entire hotel!

Charlie went into full panic mode, and ran to Alastor’s room.

She braced herself before opening the door and bursting into the room.

“Alastor!” She cried out.

Charlie was greeted with the sight of Vox on the ground, laying on his back, with Alastor perched on top of him. Alastor was grazing his fingertips over Vox’s antennae, causing Vox to giggle uncontrollably, while trying to push away Alastor’s hands. Vox’s hat was discarded off to the side of the Overlords’ current position, and Alastor’s hair was a disheveled mess.

The two Overlords turned and looked at Charlie, Alastor removing his hands from Vox’s antennae.

Charlie blinked.

“Are… are you alright?” She asked.

“Never better, dear!” Alastor responded as Vox simply laid there, catching his breath.

“You’re not… fighting?” Charlie questioned further.

“Well, I wouldn’t quite say that.” Alastor responded again, as Vox started blushing, turning his gaze away from Charlie.

Charlie stood there for another moment before the pieces clicked into place.

“Oh. My. Gosh! Were you two having a tickle fight?! That’s adorable!” Charlie chimed, her usual bright and happy demeanor returning.

“We were not!” Vox frantically yelled out. “He was just… torturing me! I couldn’t get away, but I managed to turn the tables on him! Unfortunately, he turned them back, and here we are now.”

“Okay…” Charlie started, facing Vox, “but can’t you turn into electricity, Vox? Why didn’t you just escape that way?” She turned to Alastor. “And, Alastor, can’t you disappear into the shadows at any time? Why didn’t you just escape?”

The two Overlords shared a look, before turning their heads away from each other, blushing deeply.

Charlie continued.

“Oh my! You must enjoy having these fights! That is literally the cutest thing I have ever heard!”

Alastor and Vox both refused to look at Charlie, waiting for her to leave, until she said something that caught their attention.

“I have to tell the others about this! It’s too cute not to share!”

Charlie turned to the door, about to head out, when a black tendril appeared, swiftly shutting the door and blocking Charlie from accessing it.

“I don’t think that you will be doing any such thing, my dear.” Alastor said.

Charlie turned around and saw that both Alastor and Vox were standing, and heading in her direction.

“You see, Princess,” Vox said as he and Alastor approached Charlie, Alastor grasping her wrists and holding her in place, “my reputation is very important to me. I can’t have demons hearing certain… details, that may alter their opinions towards me.”

Vox began slowly dragging his claws up and down the length of Charlie’s sides, causing her to start giggling.

“W-wait! G-guys!” She giggled out.

“I would also prefer that certain things not be known by the general public.” Alastor said from behind Charlie.

More black tendrils appeared, wiggling up against Charlie’s stomach. Vox switched from dragging to spidering up and down Charlie’s sides. She began laughing.

“OHOHOKAY! OHOHOKAY! I WOHOHON’T TELL! PLEHEHEASE! EHEHEHE!

“Are you sure~?” Alastor purred.

“You reeeeally promise?” Vox questioned in a teasing way.

“YEHEHES! YEHEHEHES! PLEHEHE-AHAHAHA!” Charlie pleaded as her laughter increased in pitch, one of the tendrils having found its way under her shirt and into her belly button.

Vox backed off, and the tendrils retracted, Alastor releasing Charlie’s wrists. She curled into herself, keeping her arms close to her body.

“I’ll leave you to it, then!” Charlie said, smiling.

She waved farewell and hurried out of the room.

I may not be able to share it, but this information will definitely come in handy later, Charlie thought to herself.

“I’m not risking anyone else seeing this.” Vox said, picking up his hat as he made his way over to the window. “I’m out of here.”

“Until next time, old pal!” Alastor called out as Vox climbed out the window and down the side of the hotel.

Alastor shut and locked the window before returning to one of his arm chairs.

Alastor was glad that he had chosen Vox to help with his predicament a week ago. That decision had provided him with plenty of entertainment since then.

Vox returned to the V Tower, Velvette and Valentino nowhere to be found. He went to his surveillance room and sat down in his chair

At long last, the strange feelings that arose after his encounter with Alastor were gone, and he could get back to his work.

One last thought crossed Vox’s mind before he started monitoring the footage from his cameras.

I should visit Alastor more often.

#I am in actual love #you write Vox and Alastor both SO WELL OMG #and Charlie too!!#Also love how they're getting more comfy with one another 🥰#warm fuzzies to the max #hazbin hotel alastor #oh deer he's ticklish #lee!alastor #ler!vox #lee!vox #lee!charlie #ler!alastor #switch!alastor #switch!vox #hazbin hotel tickles #ticklish!alastor

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amazingmsme · 2 years ago

Text

Such A Squealer

AN: Somehow managed to whip this up lickety split before I start on my homework. This was a really cute prompt, & lumax holds a special place in my heart. Hope y'all enjoy day 11!

Max considerer herself to be a good girlfriend, no, a great girlfriend. She shared the same interests with Lucas, she was funny, supportive, and even though she was hesitant to think so, she knew that some people would say she's pretty. (Her mom insisted on it, at least.) And to top it off, she was currently giving him a massage without even being asked.

"Okay, but it better not be some kinda trick," he teased, laying down on the bed. He rested his chin on his hands and shifted until he was comfortable. She straddled his waist and began working her palms over tense shoulders. He'd been complaining about being sore after practice, so this was the least she could do.

Her hands traveled the expanse of his back, over the rolling hills of his shoulders and the valley of his lower spine. She carried on for a few minutes before slipping her hands under his shirt to glide over bare skin. He let out pleased grunts and hums as she released the tight knots in his back, allowing his troubles to melt away.

And then her hands traveled too far down, veering off to the side and she happened to squeeze his hips. Lucas jolted as if he'd been electrocuted, and squealed. He clapped a hand to his mouth just as a grin tried to overtake his features. He'd been too late to muffle the sound, and Max's interest was piqued.

"Oh? What was that?" she asked, doing it again. Lucas jolted, arms pressing down against his sides.

"N-nothing," he said, voice at least two octaves higher. Max looked at the back of his head with skepticism and grinned.

"Mm, that didn't sound like nothing," she mused, idly drawing circles with her thumbs over his hipbones. He snorted, burying his face in a nearby pillow to muffle his laughter.

Max couldn't have that. She loved the way his laugh sounded. He didn't hold back, and it just sounded so bright it could light up a room. It was the sound of pure, unbridled joy- his joy. And she was the only making him happy. She decided she deserved to hear it and yanked the pillow away, tossing it aside.

He yelped when his shield was stolen before falling into endless giggles as Max kneaded his hips.

"Nohoho, plehehease!" he begged, curling up on his side. Max persisted and used his new position to roll him on his back. He was breathless, hair tussled and he had the biggest smile of his face she's ever seen.

"Is there a reason you've been hiding this tickle spot from me?" she asked, hands formed into claws and poised to strike. He giggled nervously and looked away.

"Ihi wasn't hiding it! You just didn't find it!" he defended himself. She arched a brow.

"You could've told me," she cooed. Lucas snorted.

"Yeah right. You just would've tortured me sooner!" he justified, unable to tear his eyes away from her hands.

"Guess I'll have to make up for lost time then," she said smugly and shrugged. His eyes widened and he tried to grab her hands and push them away, but she was too quick. Rapid squeezes to the hips assaulted his nerves and sent tiny shocks of electricity through his body. He shrieked, head thrown back against the mattress, mouth hanging open as cackles escaped. Max was glad her mom wasn't home, surely she'd think they were being killed. Now that she thought about it, maybe some of the neighbors did. Oh well, she'll be happy to explain the misunderstanding if any cops were to arrive. Hopper would certainly find it funny.

Lucas was thrashing around on the bed, laughing freely and most notably, not trying to stop her. Max grinned to herself, taking a deep breath before diving down. She blew a raspberry as hard as she could on his hipbone, and another loud squeal cut through the air. She kept going until she was smiling so wide, she couldn't get a good seal on his skin. She rose back up, so breathless and happy you'd think she was the one being tickled.

"Dude, you are such a squealer!" she teased, squeezing his hips so he couldn't protest, though he still tried.

"Ihihi aham nohohot!" he insisted through persistent giggles.

"Wanna bet?" she asked playfully, wiggling her brows at him before taking a large breath. Lucas shook his head, eyes wide and an overwhelming smile in place.

"Nonono wahahait!" She didn't wait, instead blowing another raspberry on his other hip. Needless to say, Max proved her point.

#tickletober #tickletober 2023 #tickletober day 11 #lucas sinclair #max mayfield #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things tickle fic #ticklish!lucas

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p1astr81 · 1 month ago

Text

ode to a conversation - mv1

in which: Max has an epiphany; he no longer wants to be friends with benefits, but exclusive. You don’t feel the same.

pairing: Max Verstappen x fwb!reader

warnings: sexual themes—borderline smut scenes, HURT, negative comfort, reader and max are both a little shitty😭

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

His knees, encasing your hips, sunk deeper into the mattress. You laughed as his cold hands met the bare skin of your waist. Your shirt was long gone, leaving you in tiny shorts and a red lace bra. “That tickles.” You complained, though the smile on your face didn’t help in convincing him to stop.

“Yeah?” He asked, breathy and sensual. His fingers continued to explore your skin. Your squirming amused him.

“Yes!” You insisted, more giggles following. Your palms pushed lightly against his toned chest.

The moment brought Max back to a time, a few years ago. Stood in your kitchen, he was helping you prepare snacks for the rest of your friends. It was game night.

Trying to alert you of his presence behind you, he put a hand on your side. You jumped from your skin, turning to slap his shoulder. “Scared the piss out of me, Max.” He laughed, his hand sliding away.

Some sort of squeak was muffled by your closed lips. A concealed laugh, he deduced.

“You’re ticklish?” He asked, teasing.

“No.” You answered far too quick.

You didn’t see the mischievous look that took over his features before both of his hands attacked your sides. “Ah! No, stop!” You pleaded through uncontrolled laughter. You tried pushing him away but he was stronger.

Back then, he would’ve never taken advantage of the distraction as he had now.

He leaned down, lips finding a home in the curve of your neck, sucking a mark into the skin.

“No marks,” you requested, though the whimper you let out told him you didn’t mind the feeling.

He complied, trailing kisses down to your stomach instead. He stopped at the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you for approval.

“Keep going.”

۶ৎ

Max still recalls the first time it happened, when your little arrangement first became a thing.

It was after his win in Spain last year.

He was tired. You wanted to go out. He couldn’t deny you because of course, you’re his best friend. He’d do anything to keep you happy.

So he took a small nap, and then let you drag him out to a club.

Truthfully, he believes you only wanted to go out so you could get blackout drunk, his win having nothing to do with it. It was only a convenient excuse.

His theory did have some evidence, given you downed two shots as soon as you got in the building.

Max Planned to remain the sober one, but when you shoved a drink in his hand with an award-winning smile on your face, he couldn’t resist.

The night progressed, and by the time you were ready to return to the hotel, you were equally wasted.

You held onto each other, laughing at nothing while you tripped over each other’s feet. Your room was found eventually, after one older man came out of his room shouting at you to be quiet.

He helped you onto your mattress—at that time, you always shared a 2 bed room. You pulled him down with you, giggling. He fell on top of you, bracing himself with a hand on either side of your head.

The eye contact was intense. It had no business being so. You blinked up at him, doe eyed. It made his brain faulty. Back then he thought it was the alcohol—and it might’ve been—but now he was certain it was just you.

You were the brave one.

You leaned up, a hand on the back of his head, and pressed your lips to his.

Had he been sober, he may have listened to the little part of his head that told him to pull away. But he wasn’t sober. His brain had long ago succumbed to the alcohol. Since then, it had turned into a pile of mashed potatoes.

He kissed you back. Hard. With a fervor he didn’t know he was capable of off-track.

Fingers tangled in his hair, you tugged him away. A satisfied sigh left Max’s lips at the feeling.

“Fuck me, please.” Your desperate whisper weakened his whole body.

How could he deny your request when you asked oh so prettily?

۶ৎ

“Damn, you look… good.” Max complimented you over the loud blaring music of the club.

“You don’t look too bad yourself.” You grinned, patting his chest. “Gonna go get a drink.” You dismissed yourself.

Max watched as you joined the crowd. He wouldn’t call it disappearing, because you stood out, no matter how many bodies surrounded you. How could you not? With the way the sparkles on your blue dress caught the light and with a face sculpted by Aphrodite herself. You were impossible to miss.

It’s how he found you so easily in the crowd an hour later, after you hadn’t returned. You were surrounded by two guys, dancing sensually with them.

All the alcohol he consumed through the night crept up the back of his throat. He had to tear his eyes from the scene so it wouldn’t paint the floor.

And it hits him. A revelation the size of the universe itself runs him over and flattens him to the ground.

The thought of anyone touching you like he had made him physically ill.

He wanted to be more than just a fuck buddy. He wanted you all to himself. And not in the possessive way. Just a desire to call you his.

Really it didn’t matter if these guys occupied your attention at that moment.

Max knew you would come back to him at the end of the night. And he knew the two of you would stumble until you found a surface to ravage each other on.

۶ৎ

You were both lying naked in his apartment. Max held you around the waist, your fingers laced together, resting on your hip. Your head lay against his chest.

It was far too intimate for a casual fuck. Max was losing his head, but he wouldn’t show it.

“You’re so sweet.” You muttered, inclining your head back to meet his eyes.

He raised a brow. “Why do you say that?”

You sucked in a breath, shrugging. “You’ve never kicked me out after we… have fun… and you always hold me like this.” You paused. “I don’t know, I guess it just makes me feel less… used?”

Max was silent for a moment. “Isn’t that standard?” His laugh wasn’t quite natural. Forced.

It took a second for you to shake your head. “No. Some of the guys they just… throw me to the side after they’re done with me.” Your body subconsciously retreated into him, seeking his warmth.

With your confession, he should have comforted you. He should have reassured you in some way. But stupidly, the words that came out of his mouth were, “are you seeing other guys?” His tone wasn’t accusatory or angry. It was curiosity.

Your expression flickered, brows furrowing then un-furrowing a moment later. “N-no,” you tilted your head, looking at him as if trying to dissect him. “Not anymore.” You paused. “Why?”

Max shook his head, shrugging. “Just wondering.”

Releasing a hum in response, you settled back against him. Max picked up your hand, bringing it to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles. You let out a small laugh.

۶ৎ

Over the next few weeks, Maxs demeanor shifted. He became more reserved, more hesitant to show affection. You noticed, rather quickly, as a matter of fact. You never brought it up, assuming it was temporary.

But when it persisted, when he continued to fade, when he refused your company after a difficult race, you began to worry.

He didn’t invite you to his hotel room. Unusual. Even without the intention of doing anything, Max would ask you over. “I enjoy your presence,” he explained one night a couple months prior, a content smile on his lips.

So when you weren’t requested, you took it upon yourself to seek him out.

The seconds between your knock and the door swinging open stretched long. Agonizingly so. “Hey, wh-what’s up?” Maxs hair is drenched. A towel over his shoulder and his shorts hanging loosely around his waist while he leans against the open door.

“Just wanted to see you,” you paused. “Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah.” Max scrambles, tripping over himself while tying to push the door open wider and get out of the way at the same time. You smile to yourself, finding a spot to sit on the end of his bed.

Max remained by the door, staring at his own feet with his hands in the pockets of his shorts.

“Well don’t just stand there, come here.” Your laugh was a soft sound, like the plush comforter on which Max joined you.

The blank white walls were fascinating to Max in that moment. Looking at you was too intimidating.

Only when you called his name in your feather-light voice did he dare a glance. “What’s got you so distracted lately?” Your voice hinted at amusement, but he could see the concern on your face.

Trying to ease your worries, he shook his head, claiming, “just that shit race.”

You reached out, a hand to his thigh, thumb brushing in soothing swipes. “Hey, it wasn’t that bad. I swear on it.”

Max attempted a smile. The sight of it was saddening, strained and not at all convincing.

A smirk grew on your face. “I could…” your fingers creeped up his thigh, “help you forget about it.” You suggested, biting your lip softly, blinking up at him through your lashes, and wrapping a hand around the waistband of his shorts.

Despite his brain screaming at him to not do so, he still found himself under you that night, hands steady on your hips while you rode him.

۶ৎ

You’d been chatting it up with one of Liam’s engineers all day. Laughing at his jokes, giving him those wide and curious eyes of yours, not moving away from his touch.

It was driving Max insane.

He couldn’t even look in your direction. The sight made his skin burn, his blood boil, his jaw clench.

You were playing along with all of his fucking charms, oblivious to how his gaze lingered on your cleavage.

He was jealous. He knew it, but he’d never admit it.

So when you wondered back over to Max’s side of the garage, he was more than fuming.

“Tough day, huh?” You tried to joke, sensing the tension that came off of him in waves.

Max tugged at the fingers of his gloves, loosening them. “Not great.” He muttered.

You followed him, standing by in silence as he glanced at data. You remained his shadow, following in silence until you entered his driver room and the door was closed behind you.

“I thought free practice went well?” You asked, his attitude skewing your opinion.

Max tugged at the zipper of his suit, pulling it all the way down. “It was fine.” He grumbled, an aggressive shrug as he tried to free his arms from the hold of the suit.

“Are you okay? You seem… off.” Your approach was hesitant, words stepping cautiously around his fuming self.

Max shook his head. “Fine.” He dismissed.

“Don’t lie to me.” You pushed.

Max couldn’t hold back his eye roll. “Didn’t seem to care when you were letting Lawson’s engineer ogle at your tits all day.” He tore off his skin-tight fireproofs, exposing his chest.

“Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you need a stress reliever or something? ‘Cause you’ve been avoiding me for the last two weeks.” You paused. “Or did you find someone new to be your fuck-Buddy?”

“Jesus fucking Christ do you hear yourself?!” You flinched at the volume of his voice. Guilt intertwined with the jealousy. He took a moment to compose himself. “There is no one else. There’s never been anyone else.” He confessed, a low voice.

“Then what is it? You’ve been pushing me away, and I let you be, because I figured you were just trying to focus on your job, but it’s so obviously not that. So, what?” Your voice was soft, an air of concern.

Max just shook his head.

“You know you can tell me anything. I’m your best friend, I’ll always be here for you.”

It was like he’d been stabbed right through the heart with an ice cold blade. Best friend. What a stupid combination of words.

“I can’t… talk to you about it.”

He hated how you looked at him. Soft, pitying eyes. A small frown. He tensed when your hand landed on his wrist, contorting his hand to lace your fingers with his.

“Of course you can.” Your soft, tender, voice was a mere whisper.

Max felt vulnerable. Like he could break down in tears. The whole situation was entirely too intimate, the bond too great for Max to risk losing.

He shook his head once again, struggling to meet your eyes. “No it’s… about you.”

Your grip on his hand didn’t falter. “That’s okay. Whatever it is, you can tell me. I won’t be mad or- or whatever.” When he didn’t say anything for a moment, you spoke up again. “Whatever it is, we can fix it. I promise.”

You were so gentle with him, speaking to him like he was a piece of glass, teetering on the edge of the precipice. It made him feel safe but it also scared the shit out of him.

Max inhaled, sharp and shaky. You gave his hand a good squeeze. “You promise it won’t change a thing?” He met your eyes.

“I can’t promise-“

“Promise me.”

A beat. And then a sigh.

“Okay. I promise.” You nodded.

Max opened his mouth. Then shut it. His eyes darted around the room. He dragged you over to sit on the small couch.

He was nervous. He was making you nervous.

“I can’t keep doing what we’re doing.” He paused, trying to compose his thoughts.

“Okay, then we don’t-“ you stopped when he squeezed your hand, eyes closed. He was struggling. It hurt you to see.

He sucked in a breath. “I can’t do it because I can’t pretend it’s just casual anymore.” He swallowed, gazing at your entwined hands as he felt your grip falter. “It’s not. Not for me. I don’t want it to be casual. I want us to be…” he made the mistake of looking up at you. Your pained expression made the words evaporate from his mind. He shook his head. “I want us to be exclusive. Just you and me.”

A beat. A swipe of his thumb over yours. “I want to call you mine.”

The air was punched out of your lungs. You dropped your hand from his, standing to your feet. Distance was created as you stood on the other side of the room.

It was a living nightmare for Max, the way you looked at him in horror.

You shook your head. “It wouldn’t work.”

Max blinked at you. “And why not? We’re halfway to a couple already-“

“Im not from your world.”

Max stood. “My world?”

“All of your exes were models or-or from famous families.” You scoffed. “I work in advertising.”

Two whole steps were all the closer you allowed him before you held up a hand.

“I don’t care that you’re not a model, or famous. God that’s part of the reason I love…” Max stopped himself. The words didn’t need to be said, though. You understood clearly.

Your laugh was breathy. “You’re being so irrational right now.”

“How? Tell me?”

“Because I don’t fit in here! I feel so out of place. This isn’t my scene. I only ever come here for you.” You sucked in a breath. “And you can’t love me. You don’t. You’re confusing lust for love.”

“No. No,” he insisted, shaking his head. “Even when you’re gone you plague my mind. It’s like you’ve infected every corner. I don’t go a second without-“

“I think you should consider this a bit more. Seriously, I think you’ve lost it.”

“Is it that hard to believe someone could love you? That I could love you?”

Eyeing the wall just beyond his face, you swallowed the growing lump in your throat. “I’ll see you later.” You muttered, leaving no space for him to reply before your out the door.

۶ৎ

Later didn’t arrive until over a month after the conversation.

Max let you be, though he admits to stalking your socials.

He hoped the ache in his chest would dissipate with your absence. It didn’t. In truth, he believes it may have gotten worse.

He doesn’t remember how, but he found himself at your front door one night. He was wasted. A sad, drunk mess.

You opened the door in your pajamas. Max frowned at the sound of your sigh. “What are you doing here?” You asked, a hint of annoyance, leaning against the door.

“I miss you.” He confessed.

“You’re drunk.” The obvious. “How’d you even get here?”

“I walked.”

“You wa-“ you scoffed in disbelief. “Fine. Come in.” You stepped aside, allowing him to stumble into your flat. He stumbled in your direction. You reached out, a hand of support for him to lean against.

The couch caught his lax form. “Where are you going?” He called out as you left down a hallway. You didn’t answer, re-emerging moments later with two blankets and a pair of sweatpants. He sat up, rolling the soft gray cloth of the pants between his fingers. “These are mine.” He commented.

With a layer of regret, you replied. “Yes. I forgot to give them back.”

The frown you received from Max would’ve been comical if you weren’t so annoyed with him.

“You can keep them.” His blue eyes pierced through yours: his soft, broken offering softened your heart.

Eyes finding the ceiling, you silently cursed him. “No, thank you.” You sighed, shifting your gaze to him once more. He picked at the frayed edges of the blanket. “You can sleep on the couch for the night. I don’t have the energy to drive you back to your own place, nor do I trust you to get there on your own.” You paused, went to dig under your kitchen sink, and returned with a red bucket in hand. “And if you’re going to get sick, please do it in there. Or, preferably, the toilet.” Your voice remained void of any real emotion, only a vague irritation sneaking through.

You got as far as the entry to the hallway before Max called for you.

Bracing yourself, you turned back. Max sat in the same spot, still pulling at the frayed edges, but his frown had deepened.

“Are you still mad at me?” Dense with fragility.

“I don’t know.” You sighed, a longer blink than normal. “I’m glad you’re okay, though.” There was an air of vulnerability to the confession.

“I still love you.” The words flowed from his mouth, free from the sober filter.

Your head was shaking as soon as the confession filled the space. “We can talk tomorrow.” You dismissed his claim and yourself.

۶ৎ

In the haze of your tire, you’d forgotten about Max. So when you woke up the next morning with the strong aroma of bacon filling your nose, panic jolted you awake.

A big stainless steel water bottle was gripped in your hand as you took cautious steps to the kitchen. The blonde hair of the man caught you off guard, the demeanor of someone you know knew well. You paused, lowering your weapon.

Max turned around then, sporting a soft grin when he saw you. “‘Morning.” He greeted, switching the stove off and plating the food. “Hope you don’t mind. I was a bit hungry.” He admitted, placing two plates at the table. He gestured from you to the plate.

“Oh, thank you.” You muttered, sitting across from him at the dining room table.

You progressed through the meal in silence, taking occasional glances at a very content looking Max.

“What are you playing at?” You finally break the silence in a seethe of annoyance.

Max paused, glancing around the room. “What do you mean?”

“Showing up here? Taking my couch for the night and then pretending we’re still best friends the next morning?” You shook your head. “What’s your game?” You narrowed your eyes.

The man across the table sat rigid in his seat, having lost his appetite now. He shifted, unable to find a comfortable position on the chair. “I don’t have any game.” He paused. Then, after a long moment, confessed. “But I was telling the truth. Last night. I meant it when I said I missed you.”

A loud clink, the sound of your fork hitting the porcelain of your plate, covered the sound of your scoff. You took the plate to the kitchen, scraping off the crumbs into the trash and borderline tossing the dishes into the sink.

“Be serious, Max.” You leaned against the kitchen island, hard gaze shooting across the room. Max hadn’t moved. “Did you miss me? Or did you miss being inside of me?”

Max sighed, fingers rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Jesus,” he muttered, “you want me to be a villain so bad, and I don’t get it.” He shook his head. He rose steady to his feet, but didn’t move after that. “You promised me nothing would change when I told you how I felt about you. You told me to consider it, and I have. For a whole fucking month.” He gave a bitter laugh. “And guess what? Nothing has changed.” He swallowed hard, trying and failing to hold back the tears pricking his eyes. “I missed you. I don’t give a damn if you don’t let me lay a finger on you ever again.”

Jaw clenched, you reverted your gaze to the marble countertop. Your breathing was uneven. “I need a minute to think about this.”

Max finally gets his feet moving, standing on the other side of the island from you now. “A minute? You’ve had a month!”

You don’t answer him, opting to shake your head. His eyes followed you as you walked away, down the hall. The door belonging to your bedroom was thrown shut.

Max took it as his cue to leave.

۶ৎ

“She still thinks I’m lying. I told her I think about her every second of the day, and she still thinks I’m lying.�� Max confessed to Lando one afternoon, flying from one track to the next.

You’d declined to answer his calls for the past two weeks.

“Well, you have been in this sort of situationship for, what, a year now?” Lando leaned back in his seat, shrugging. “She probably thinks that’s all she’s good for to you.”

Max stabilized his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “But I told her… I told her that I didn’t.”

Lando shrugged again. “Maybe try showing her instead.”

۶ৎ

The stack of gifts and flowers grew on your dining room table. An arrangement of gifts had been left on your doorstep in the past week: three bouquets, your favorite snacks, gift cards, door dash orders—though you did eat those, a newer and better quality record player—one you specifically mentioned wanting—to replace your shitty old one, and stacks of new clothes from your wishlist.

You told yourself they were all stupid, meaningless gifts. He was just trying to win you back.

The last thing is what finally got you to break.

A red envelope landed in your mailbox.

To my favorite girl,

I’ve booked a reservation for us at that steakhouse you love. Come eat with me tonight, please. Or don’t. The choice is completely yours, love.♡

Max.

Your friend’s voice rang through your memory. “I think he’s being genuine. I’ve seen how he looks at you and heard how he talks about you when you’re not around.”

It gave you the little push you needed. You slipped on a nice dress. You wore short heels. You drove yourself to the restaurant. You met a relieved looking max at a table.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” He smiled, blinking repeatedly as if you were an apparition he was trying to clear. He truly did not expect you. But now he was optimistic that maybe he really did have a change with you.

He wasn’t sure what he expected you to say, but it never would’ve been,

“Why do you keep sending me all of this stuff?”

He blinked, a motion now done out of slight shock. “To show you that I see you. That I’m serious about this.”

You closed your eyes, pursing your lips. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

“It’s not in my nature.” He tried to smile. It developed halfway before falling. His optimism began to fade.

At least you chuckled at his joke, even if it was short and barely there.

The waiter came, took your drinks and left. No doubt, he sensed the tension.

“Please. I really do love you. Would I be doing all of this if I didn’t?” In a risky move, he reached across the table, taking your hand in his. You let him.

It was an insufferably long beat of silence before you sighed. “No. I guess not.” Your eyes shifted from the white tablecloth to where your hand lay in his. “Can this conversation wait for a more private area? I’ll follow you back to your place or to mine. I just can’t have it here.”

Another beat of silence lingered before your eyes raised to his. The vulnerability within them was striking. “Y-yeah. Absolutely. Whatever you want.” He nodded.

Max followed by your lead for the remainder of the night, which meant you progressed through dinner in near silence. And when you left, he complied when you asked if he could follow you back to your place.

He waited in the living room while you changed into something more comfortable. And waited some more when you returned and sat on the couch opposite him.

“I believe you. I do think you love me.” You paused, drawing your knees up to your chest. You laid your head on your knees. “But I can’t give you what you want.”

A suffocating silence, and then, “oh.” Max sighed, heartbreak. And then, anger. “So, what I was just a good fuck?”

You sat straight, looking at him like he was a crazed man. “No. God, no, Max. You’re my best friend!”

“And I love you!”

“And I can’t love you! I’m not made for a committed relationship! You deserve someone better!”

“But I want you.”

Tension strained in the silence. Each second that passed fractured another bit of Max’s heart.

“You said you wouldn’t care if you never got to touch me again.” You recalled and shrugged. “And now I’m telling you that’s all I can give you and you aren’t happy.”

Max chewed on his cheek. “Yeah, fine.” Max stood. “I should get back. Feed the cats.” He muttered, leaving before you got to say anything more.

۶ৎ

1 YEAR LATER

Max invited you to the Monaco Grand Prix, the first race you’d be attending of the ‘25 season.

Your relationship had strained. Not quite as close as you had been, but still friends. And the days you did spend together were spent at a distance, sizable gaps between your bodies.

He found you sat above the garage, sipping on a peach nectarine Red Bull with your eyes glued to your phone.

“Hi.” He greeted, a soft smile.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you returned his expression. “Looks like it’ll be an easy win for you today.” You joked as he was starting on pole.

He laughed. “Katlyn said something similar.”

Katlyn. His girlfriend. She looked like you, but you wouldn’t voice that to anyone.

“You two look happy together. I’m happy for you.” It was genuine.

Max’s smile faltered, then widened. “Yeah we are, thank you.”

۶ৎ ۶ৎ ۶ৎ

an: lowkey not a fan of this but it’s been sitting in my drafts for ages

#f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #f1 x you #f1 angst #max vertsappen fic #max verstappen angst #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen one shot #mv33 #mv1

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love-jelly · 1 year ago

Text

RIGHT HERE.

sypnosis: you're soft for yuuta. more than you should be, considering that he's spoiled with your endless mounts of affection, basking him in the purity of your love.

contents: slight yandere!yuuta, cunninlingus, fingering, porn with plot (?), pet names (baby, pretty baby, etc)

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: i don't think i've ever wrote this much in my life, especially for a fic!! i lightly (barely) proofread this so if it sucks.... well, hopefully it doesn't. i listened to right here by chase atlantic for this fic because it reminds me of yan!yuuta sm so you can listen to it while reading if you want! i hope you enjoy !! minors dni. ageless / blank / minor blogs will be blocked if seen interacting!

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

yuuta is never far from you, always a step ahead, always ready, always a steady presence in your life, from your teenage years to now.

how could you not be soft for him, knowing he's the only person that's ever stayed in your life? laying in bed with him, twirling the locks of hair that have started limiting his vision, an energy of tranquility enveloping the room that you both inhibit. a sudden call from your phone causes vibrations and loud rings that shake the peace that you both felt prior. you sit up tiredly to answer, sighing.

"hello?" you answer, not bothering to check who called. no one usually ever calls you at this time of day.

"are you down?" a voice you recognize emerges from the voicebox of your phone, demanding an answer to her sudden question. it's your best friend.

"down for...?" a confused tone is prominent in your voice.

"is yuuta hogging you again?" she jokes but you still see yuuta furrow his eyebrows at the comment. "read the groupchat! are you down for a girl's date today?"

"ohh, i didn't see the notifications, let me see." even before checking the messages, you know you don't really feel like going. today's your first day off in forever and you really wanted to spend it with yuuta but when you see the all uppercase texts clearly exhibiting extreme excitement from your best friends, you put your phone back to your ear. "i'll go."

your friend squeals excitedly, "okay!! text you're going in the groupchat, all the girls are finally free today to get together!! i can't wait to see you all again! see you later!" and promptly ends the call.

you turn back to yuuta, his eyebrows still furrowed. you smile softly and gently press your fingertips to his face to rid him of the wrinkles. "i'm sorry, baby, i know you wanted to spend all of today with me... i'll make it up to you, i promise."

his face relaxes but his eyes are still troubled. "it's okay... when are you leaving?"

you check the groupchat one more time, filtering through all the messages including exclaims of excitement to search for the details. "it starts at 2:30pm so i should leave at 1:30... which means i should start getting ready at 11:30 max. it's 10:00 so we still have time together."

yuuta pulls you back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and noses his way into your neck, making you giggle slightly from the ticklish feeling.

yuuta lightly bites your neck, leaving a light indent of his teeth. only slightly satisfied, he stares at it before he gets up, leaving you in the receding warmth of the bed.

frowning slightly, you call out "where are you going?"

'show her she only needs you', the devil on his shoulder whispers.

he hums. he turns backwards and picks you up gently, taking you with him. he kisses your cheek softly. "breakfast." he answers.

_____________

you softly groan into your closed fist. this was your weak point. yuuta, with his messily but cute tousled bedhead, shirtless, and cooking (especially when its your favorite breakfast). you had forgotten how badly this scene made the pit in your stomach ignite.

"hm?" his eyes flit over to you for a second before settling back onto the food in the pan in front of him, hiding a small smile that you don't catch.

you sit up quickly, adjusting your legs. "nothing, love!" your voice sounds tight and somewhat strained.

he knits his eyebrows together, "are you sure?" he glances at you, for longer this time before focusing back on the hot pan.

"yes..." you trail off, your eyes laser beamed at how he grips the pan handle and spatula. the tight grip of his hand on the pan.... then on your thigh.... then onto your waist....

shaking your head abruptly, you smile as you see yuuta plating your food. how could you think of your sweet boyfriend like this? poor yuuta, just wants to cook you breakfast... but the filthy thoughts continue to plague your mind.

his tongue flicking the fork (getting the remnants of the food left on it), a tongue you feel between your legs often.... his fingers wrapped around the fork (to feed you, of course), fingers you feel inside you often... you're in a daze, staring at him with the hungriest look yuuta has seen in your eyes in awhile. it's not his fault you've been so busy that you can't spare time for him and that you both haven't your fill of each other in awhile.

your running rampant thoughts are interrupted by the conspirator of your current fantasies himself when yuuta swipes at the side of your mouth to rid you of some crumbs and move them into your mouth.

and you can't catch yourself fast enough. your tongue darts out and collides with his finger and he pauses, frozen. in your starved haze, you grab his hand to pull him closer, sucking on the tip of his finger. now in his own mind-fogged state, he hyperfixates on your plush lips wrapped around his thumb and retracts it to replace it with him index and middle finger.

sliding his fingers into your mouth, he lightly presses down on your tongue. "you're so pretty..." he says, his eyes watching your eyes water.

taking his fingers out, he pulls you into a hard kiss. with teeth clashing and tongues dancing, he easily picks you up and carries you back to the bedroom.

in the bedroom, yuuta's rough with you. dropping you on the bed, watching you bounce on the bed for a second until he follows you, crawling on top of you. he quickly rids you of your flimsy tank and boy shorts, smiling smugly as he sees the wet spot in your panties. he kisses you your lips to your waist, sucking hickies along the way as if he's drawing a trail from his favorite place to kiss to his favorite place to make you cry out in pleasure.

when he reaches your waistline, he looks up at you. "you're so gorgeous" he whispers as he pulls apart your legs. you smile gently, it's so yuuta to compliment you in any situation.

your smile, however, is quickly contorted to a face of pleasure when you feel a light and wet pressure at your core. yuuta always knows exactly how to make you feel good, like he knows you better than he knows himself, like he crafted you himself.

his tongue makes quick work of your folds, lapping at the juice that leaks out of your pretty cunt, making you shut your eyes and cry out from the stimulation. diving into your hole and nudging your clit with his nose, you both simultaneously moan, him from your taste and you from the stimulation. your hands quickly find purchase in his hair, slightly pulling it to ground you while yuuta works on you, worships you like you deserve. through the pleasure, you find it in you to, somehow, open your eyes.

you can never get enough of this sight; yuuta's blown out pupils dizzy and drunk on your slick, slacked jaw taking in whatever your messy cunt gives him, and hair messy from your pulling and pushing. he's not usually a messy eater but with your cunt gushing out sweet elixir, what is he but a hopeless man amidst with a goddess- his goddess?

"y-yuu" you choke out, one hand pulling his hair and the other holding one of his hands tightly. "yes, love?" he kisses your clit, making you gasp at the sensation.

"need it!" you cry out right as he thumbs your clit to replace his lips.

"hm? what do you need? use your words, baby." he knows you, knows you can beg better, knows if he says the right words and pushes the right buttons, you'll crumble prettily, all for him.

the tips of your ears feel like they're burning, your cheeks like they've been set alight. "need to cum... please make me cum."

and just like that, yuuta feels like he's been set on fire, the match being your words. "well why didn't you just say so, baby?"

with that, he pushes two fingers into your weeping cunt and licks at the sweet delicacy you present to him. with the added stimulation of his long fingers that curl just right that it bumps into your g-spot, it doesn't take much for you to reach the edge.

yuuta knows your signs and tells. he knows when you open your legs a little wider, thighs start twitching, moans get a little whinier and right when he says "cum for me, pretty" you'll come undone like a lovely scroll depicting his ultimate downfall; you. and you'll go lax, all the tenseness in your body dissipated as if it was never there in the first place. your lips will open to let out the final and loudest moan, the melody of his hymn in which he worships you. your body shakes as he tongue-fucks you through your orgasm, from the intensity of it rocking your core.

when you've fully come down from your high, he kisses his way back up to your lips, following the same trail of hickies he embedded into your skin prior. once he reaches your lips, he crashes your lips together like you're his oxygen (you are). you taste yourself but you don't care as you greedily devour whatever he gives you.

"can i put it in, baby?" he begs softly as if he didn't just devour you like his life depended on it and a whine present in his voice like you would ever tell him no.

"put it in me, yuu."

he pants heavily as he slowly slides his cock into your leaking cunt. "so good- so perfect for me-"

loud rings come from your phone, startling you both.

"ignore it." yuuta whines, still slowly sliding into you.

"yuu- let me pick up- f-fuckk hold on- yuu!" you smack him lightly on his chest and he looks back at you sadly, looking like a kicked puppy. "it could be important! hold on."

you answer the phone quickly, before the phone rings loudly again, "hello?"

"where are you, girl? you're not usually late!" your friend exclaims.

you quickly rip your phone away from your ear to check the time. 3:00pm. "oh my god."

yuuta, still looking like a kicked puppy, mouths 'what?'

still in shock that you lost track of that much time, you whisper-yell "i'm late to go to the girl's date!"

yuuta starts sliding himself in more as he whispers back, "don't go... stay with me."

"hello?" a voice from your phone disrupts you two.

"oh um... i-i got wrapped up in something..." you watch yuuta as he mouths at you 'say something came up, say you can't go anymore'. you can't exactly say you want to go either, especially when he's pleading with you like this and already sunk his cock halfway into your more honest cunt.

"oh... well, are you still coming? everyone's here tonight!"

weighing your options (get an amazing orgasm, maybe two or three actually, or hang out with some of your best friend who you haven't seen in awhile), you decide.

"i'll g- ohh." yuuta, seeing you were about to leave him, shoves the rest of him into you, bottoming out and mouths 'don't leave me'. your moan goes unnoticed by your friend, thankfully.

"you're coming? eek-!!"

noticing your boyfriend's neediness and noting your own wants, you quickly respond. "ah no- um, something came up. i'm actually a little occupied right now so-"

yuuta visibly perks up at your decision and you smile softly.

"awww, okay. i hope everything's alright! come to the next get-together, alright?"

"mhm, yeah, of course. i'll be there next time." you promptly end the call after exchanging goodbyes.

"i'm glad you're staying... with me." yuuta smiles, an unfamiliar emotion you've never seen in his eyes.

"of course-" you're cut off by his abrupt thrusting and you release a whiny moan.

"shhh, let me make my pretty baby feel good." he kisses your face and threads your hands together.

he pulls you into a hug and with his face hidden to you, yuuta finally lets out the smile he's been holding in all day long. and he thinks:

'i win.'

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

if you enjoyed this, please reblog and/or consider following me!

a/n: i've been having the worst (best) yandere yuuta brainrot ever, something about it feels so canon. but omg this is my first time actually writing full on smut so please give me feedback/constructive criticism!! also i'm a virgin. CAN U TELL??? LOL hopefully not. but hopefully you enjoyed!! thank you for getting this far :)

#cw yandere #yandere yuuta #okkotsu yuuta #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta smut #yuuta x you #yuuta x y/n #jujutsu kaisen yuuta #i love yuuta sm #yuuta the loml #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #i tried #can u tell i'm a virgin writing smut for the first time

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redtsundere-writes · 9 months ago

Text

Part 1: Ear Cleaning

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 1936 words.

A/N: From popular demand, I'll post the fic here too. Enjoy! :3

Sukuna walked through the corridors illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrifying any small human who encountered him. He was a king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his large body and absolute power conveyed. He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but he liked to watch his rats run from one side to the other to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans trembled if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to dodge him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not someone ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, omnipotent king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives.

His predatory eyes sought out the first poor servant that crossed his path. He heard the bristles of a broom being scrubbed against the floor. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the guest rooms. There you were, humming a song softly from your childhood as you made the broom dance from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye.

You are the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna saw you from head to toe. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the corset accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness.

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic.

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact.

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to make the new maid see who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonized back. You took a deep breath to fill your lungs with air again.

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard that it was bleeding.

This was the first time he ordered something directly from you. Usually you followed Uraume's general instructions like everyone else. You sat up slowly to regain what little balance you had left. You followed him to his room as he had ordered. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how nervous you were. As your small steps echoed like a pleasant trickle in the gloom, the servants came out of their hiding spots to quickly sign you in. They wished you the best of luck and that you would make it out of his room alive. That only put more pressure on you.

You entered your majesty's luxurious room. Your eyes were fascinated to see so many extravagances in one place. Crystal chandeliers, rugs made of exotic animals and gold decorative pieces. All the furniture was precisely designed to suit his majesty's tastes and everything was neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the castle, his room was a museum full of expensive artworks that the average person could not even imagine existed.

The great fearsome monster was reclining on a red satin-covered divan. His eyes were closed, his four arms crossed over his broad chest and his legs barely touched the floor due to his impressive height. You approached him carefully so as not to ruin his peace. Next to the divan was a wooden cabinet with all the necessary tools to groom him thoroughly.

“Clean my ears,” he ordered in a gruff voice, cocking his head over the rest for you to begin immediately. “You better do a good job,” he threatened you. You swallowed dryly because it would be the first time you would touch his majesty and if you did it wrong, the last.

You took out the necessary instruments to carry out the task. You knelt in front of his head. As expected, the king smelled exquisite. It was strong, woody, and addictive. His pink hair was soft to the touch, but you tried to avoid touching it so as not to muss it. You dedicated yourself to cleaning the outside of his ear with a swab, concentrating on the helix and the back of the ear. Your hands were delicate around his sensitive ears and the friction did not bother him because it was minimal and warm. Sukuna's body began to relax as time passed. If he didn’t focus, he could fall asleep.

Sukuna felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. You carefully dug so as not to hurt him. You could feel his discomfort in the way he squeezed his eyelids with each movement you made.

“Let me know if I get too deep, my king,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Just do your damn job,” he answered grudgingly.

You continued cleaning his ear little by little. The task was not as complicated as you thought, but you could not let your guard down with a king who can decide your fate with a snap of his fingers. After wiping the outside with absorbent cotton, you were finally done with the first ear. Sukuna was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so you could proceed with his other ear. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side, while the couch creaked under the weight.

You took a deep breath. All you had to do was repeat what you had already done, and you would finish the task alive. You watched mesmerized as Sukuna's tattooed chest rose and fell from his steady breathing. Sukuna let out a whimper as soon as you stuck the spatula in too far. You already felt your throat being slit for a simple mistake.

“Be careful! Can’t you do something so simple?” He grumbled.

You apologized immediately and continued on your task as you lowered your head in fear. “Damn humans,” he thought with a frown. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, he got over his anger and returned to the oasis of relaxation where he left off.

Sukuna let out a yawn as soon as you finished. A proud smile of your own escaped your lips. You had survived your first direct order. You glanced at the time on the large gold clock hanging over the door. It was getting late, and you had to get back to the kitchen soon to help with the dinner preparations. You returned the utensils to their respective places and got up to politely leave the place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna asked you as he got up from the couch to move to his giant bed. “Massage my head,” he ordered once again. You nodded obediently.

His majesty's bed was lined with the softest fabrics in the world. The silk pillows were engraved with the flags of the kingdom, the blankets were of pure wool and the mattress appeared to be made of goose feathers. Sukuna's heavy head was on your comfortable lap. Your soft thighs were softer than her own pillows. Your magic fingers massaged his temples in circles. You could hear him purring subtly like a contented kitten, even though he was physically not as cute as one.

Before long, Sukuna was fast asleep. Seeing his eyes closed and his light breathing, you decided to go with the other servants to continue your work. As soon as you got off the bed, he left his heat provider on his side. Before you could continue your way to the exit, you heard that terrible voice behind you.

“Who told you could leave?” You froze in place and turned to face him. His red eyes looked at you with disdain, more on the terrifying side. “Come here,” your heart did a backflip when you heard that command.

More than an order, it ended up being a warning. He pulled you by the white apron to capture you in his four strong arms. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. Your body began to sweat from nerves. You didn't know what his intention was with you. You had never been with a man like this before, let alone a tyrant twice your size. All worry disappeared from your mind as he began to stroke your body slowly, taking care not to scratch you with his long black claws.

Slowly, you could feel on your back as his majesty fell asleep. Sukuna did not snore as you thought he would. He let out a fainter, quieter sound, it was almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms around your waist and shoulders, his heavy breathing and comfortable chest encouraged you to fall asleep. “His majesty's orders,” you thought so you wouldn't feel so guilty about falling asleep.

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amaranthineghost · 1 year ago

Text

| 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐒. ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: you don't want him to go

ꕥ author note: first imagine :3 it's been sitting in my drafts for months because I was too scared to post but reading it back, it low-key eats.

“COME ON DARLING…you’ve got to let me go…” lando’s voice muffled softly against the skin of my neck, a chuckle escaping his lips and the vibrations sent butterflies fluttering through my body.

the belgian grand prix had finished days ago, and lando was eager to get back to his flat in the uk for summer break. despite my adamant protests, we flew out the very next morning and was happily greeted by max fewtrell when we’d arrived.

days later, lando’s trainer insisted on getting some training done, he wouldn't be gone for long, i knew it well

but still not wanting him to leave, i clung to him, shrouding him in my arms to prevent him from leaving. i reached around his neck, standing on the tips of my toes to haul him down to meet my height and suffocate him in my embrace. his head naturally fell between the crevice of my neck, chuckling lowly when i did so.

his breath fanned across my neck like warm winds in autumn, goosebumps forming on my skin.

i hate the effect he has on me.

yet i’d continue to hold him captive, his body heat radiating onto to me like a heated blanket. his hands placed firmly on my waist, his thumb dragging across the exposed skin, the result of my shirt riding up. his finger occasionally disappearing under the fabric.

the way he held me…

“baby…” his voice was slightly hoarse, unnecessarily dragging out the ‘y’ as he spoke lowly. his fingers pressed tighter against my exposed waist in a pulsating manner.

god, the way he spoke to me…

“don't go…” i muttered against the soft fabric of his hoodie he wore to combat the cool air and soft sprinkling of rain drops. my voice was muffled, almost lost in the layers of his clothes.

i slowly inhaled after i spoke, taking in his faded cologne that resided on his hoodie. it was like a drug and i couldn't get enough.

“i've got to…” he reiterated with an amused tone, but made no effort to be the first to let go, “i’ll be back later…”

i groaned faintly into his hoodie, my arms firmly looped around his nape loosened gradually. i lifted my head from the spot on his hoodie, which prompted him to pull his head away.

his soft curls grazed across my neck, emanating a soft ticklish sensation through my skin. his hands remained by my sides as his body pulled away from mine. the comfort of having him quickly dissipated and i was left with the abnormally cold air to keep me company.

the last touch of warmth i had from him left as he’d removed his hands from my waist, though quickly replacing it on my chin.

his hand pushed against the underside of my chin, making me meet his gaze as he looked down on me. his green eyes were enthralling.

oh how I love his eyes.

my pupils dilated as i stared into his, and i was stuck in his half-lidded gaze. my eyes flickered when i had realized his forehead had come to rest against mine. his finger brushed against the side of my face, inciting a sharp inhale as he tucked loose strands of hair behind my ear.

his forehead was warm against mine, the warmth i so desperately craved from him. His nose bumped against mine softly, heat spreading across my face as i felt his breath pan across my face.

his lips ghosted over mine. it was a slight contact but not enough.

i needed more.

and as i watched his tired eyes continuously as they glanced from my dilated eyes down to my irritated lips when his lips began to press against mine.

the contact i needed, that I craved from him…I finally had as his lips pressed mine, taking his time as he moved against me.

the comfort of his body returned to me again, like it'd never even left. his hand tangled in my hair as he pushed me closer to him. his other hand traced along my jaw before resting by my ear.

he felt like sitting by a fireplace, watching the flames flicker and ashes fly as you sat by on the floor.

he felt like home.

and as his lips moved against mine, i feel a fire igniting in my chest, as it always did, and my lips sting softly. a curse of biting them regularly.

though the sting of having his lips against mine is an odd comfort, it's a mere familiarity that brings content.

the moment feels like it lasts forever, like it could last forever, and it would if we allowed it to

but when he pulls away, the warmth, the contact, the comfort i desperately crave from him, had quickly went with it. as if i never had it to begin with.

he paused for a second, taking in a breath before leaning in again, but this time only connecting our lips for a short second.

and then i was craving warmth and homeliness i already had as his body remained on mine but knowing it was coming to an end.

he chuckled softly, the ghostly vibrations fell over my lips as he pulled away, pursing his lips to hide his toothy smile.

“i’ll be back, you know i will…” he muttered , his eyes transfixed on his hand, running my hair between the pads of his fingers. he pulled away, the lack of heat caused goosebumps to arise across my skin.

it was like throwing a heated blanket off your body, except i didn't want him to go.

home is where he is.

“bye darling…”

I'm not home when he isn't here.

#formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 #mclaren #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #fluff #lando imagine #lando x reader

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lovelynim · 1 month ago

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WE EATING GOOD TONIGHT

Mouse hole | Kambe Daisuke & Sato Haru

Commissioned by @wertzunge

A/N: it's been ages since I watched this anime and I didn't even finish it fkdnfkfnf but I hope I made them justice and you enjoy this one, Maaaax mwah 💕

Summary: Daisuke likes to badmouth Haru's house, but he's a sensitive man... In more than one way.

Words: 1.9k

This wasn't supposed to be happening. They were just having a good time with a few beers, (Haru), chatting about this and that at Haru’s home. However, without warning, the atmosphere turned tense and both men got caught up in an argument, unable to stop their words before they started saying hurtful things at each other.

“It's not my fault you live in this mediocre mouse hole," Daisuke said, his tone a little too cold and condescending as he crossed his arms and looked away from Haru.

Haru couldn't help but feel upset. He thought he'd grown used to Kambe's hurtful comments, but he was sorely mistaken. It still affected him, perhaps a bit too much, especially when Kambe felt the need to remind Haru of their financial differences.

Haru never really minded the size of his own house. It was true, it wasn't the biggest house, but it was his home, somewhere he could return to when the days were too long and tiring. A place where he could have a meal and a drink and a bed to sleep.

Who gave Kambe the right to talk about Haru's house like that? Why would a kid born with a silver spoon in his mouth come and comment on anything about his house? The audacity to disrespect Haru while wearing his clothes, eating his food and drinking his water.

Haru started to feel less tipsy than he was angry, but he still knew he wouldn't be able to formulate words to fight Kambe. So he just pouted, hugging his knees to his chest, as if subconsciously trying to make more room for Kambe so he would stop badmouthing his home. He turned his head away to avoid looking into his eyes.

Silence filled the room, the only sound that could be heard was their breathing and Haru taking sips of his beer. He could feel Kambe's eyes on him, studying him, and when Haru glanced at him from the corner of his eye, he was almost sure he saw a hint of regret in his eyes. It could have just been the light, though.

“Listen,” Kambe said with a sigh. “I-,” he sighed again and Haru was almost sure Daisuke would groan at any moment. “I'm sorry, okay? I shouldn't have said that… It was dumb…”

Haru wanted to accept the apology, after all he had also been saying some not very nice things about Kambe, but that apology struck him as fake and in his current state, (drunk), it almost sounded as if Kambe was making fun of him.

“I'm serious,” Kambe mumbled. “You know I'm serious.”

Now it was Haru who wanted to groan. His pout became more prominent as did the frown on his brow. He took another swig of beer and tossed the can somewhere across the room while grabbing and opening another, taking a long sip, as if he wanted to gather the strength to speak again… but no words came out of his mouth.

Kambe had not only offended his house, his home, he had also trampled on his pride and one did not recover easily from that. Wasn't it only fair that Haru made him beg a little longer? A second or third, (more sincere), apology would surely convince him.

“Kato, listen, I-”

“Kato Haru. 30 years old. Day of birth May 2nd. Blood type A.”

Haru looked up as HEUSC spoke over Kambe’s voice. Materialized in front of Kambe, who looked as surprised as Haru, was a green screen with the silhouette of a man right in the center, flanked by Haru's personal information. It was only then that Haru realized, with a jolt of surprise, that the silhouette was his own.

He frowned in confusion, struggling to understand the words that, from his perspective, appeared to be written in reverse. What on earth possessed HEUSC to share his personal information? And what was the meaning of those strange yellow markings on the silhouette of his body?

“What are you doing, Kambe?” He asked, his words a bit slurred.

Daisuke shook his head. “HEUSC is acting on its own. I'm not-"

“Kato Haru,” HEUSC repeated. “Member of the Modern Crime Prevention Task Force's Metropolitan Police Department. Hobbies and skills include judo and self-cooking to save money.”

Haru blushed. “Hey! That's not-”

“Physical weakness: tickling.” HEUSC's monotonous voice said and Haru widened his eyes.

Daisuke's eyes also widened slightly as another green screen appeared before him. Haru leaned closer to see it was a zoom in of the upper part of his silhouette, the yellow markings seemed to pulsate as if signaling a target. Haru frowned depended and his eyes widened in alarm as his heart skipped a beat within his chest. No… those markings… HEUSC wouldn't-

“Kato Haru's body exhibits heightened sensitivity in the following areas in the torso: armpits, ribcage, waist, and hips,” HEUSC said, the yellow areas turning to red as another screen appeared before Kambe, showing Haru's silhouette from hips to feet. “Additionally, inner thighs, back of the knees, and feet have been identified as sensitive areas in Kato Haru's lower body.”

Haru gasped, suddenly feeling sober as his cheeks flushed red. “HEUSC, stop! What the hell are you-”

“Data extraction from Kato Haru's childhood files reveals an episode where anger was triggered by a friend, resulting in the administration of a tickling game as a calming measure.”

Haru was dumbfounded. “How the hell do you know- what do you mean ‘childhood files’-!”

“Behavioral analysis reveals that Kato Haru exhibits a high affinity for tickling, indicating a strong positive emotional association. Categorizing it as a preferred sensory experience.”

Silence fell over the room once again, Haru couldn't even hear his own breathing as he tried to understand what had happened. How did HEUSC know—no, why was it saying all that?!

Haru tried to say something, but he could only open and close his mouth a couple of times, he was speechless.

“Are you saying…” Kambe started and Haru flinched when their eyes met, the smirk on Kambe’s face was not adorable at all. “That to make Kato happy again, I must tickle him?”

“No!”

“Affirmative, high probability,” HEUSC said, all screens disappearing at once.

“That is not at all correct!” Haru nearly squeaked, his face impossibly red as he eyed Daisuke. “Why did HEUSC say all of that?! And how the hell did it know about- don't you even dare!”

Daisuke looked like a wild animal about to pounce on its prey. Haru tried to get up, but Kambe was faster. The detective grabbed him by the ankle, causing Haru to fall against the wooden floor with a loud thud, and dragged him until he could trap his feet in an arm lock.

Haru gasped, his lips trembling in a stupid smile of anticipation. “I swear! If you dare to touch me, I'll- hahahaha! I fuhuhucking hahahate you!”

Haru squeaked as helpless peals of laughter poured out of his lips while Kambe's fingers skittered up and down his socked soles. With almost terrifying precision, Daisuke's fingers wiggled under Haru's toes, nearly driving him crazy with laughter only after a couple of seconds.

Haru squirmed like a worm, trying to free his legs from Daisuke's grip, but damn was that trust fund kid strong. He somehow managed to tickle both his feet with just one hand and leave Haru nearly cackling.

“K-Kahahambe! I'm seheherious! No! Dohohon't you dahahare! Plehehehase!” He begged as he felt Kambe pulling off one of his socks.

Haru curled his toes tightly to prevent him from pulling the sock off completely, but Daisuke only needed to tickle his bare arch to have his toes spreading in ticklish desperation, making the sock fall in a second.

“What's more ticklish?” Daisuke asked, his deep voice with a hint of playfulness and teasing that made Haru shiver. “With the sock on or off? On. Off. On. Off. On. Off.” He mumbled, jumping from one foot to the other. Haru pounded his fist against the floor, tears of laughter already clinging to his lashes.

“Ohohohoff! You bahahastard, I'm- nohot the tohohohes! Ahahaha!” His legs shook as he wrapped one arm around his sore stomach. “Kahahambe, I swehehear- ahahaha!”

He could not continue speaking because Kambe had left his feet to straddle his shins and use his thumbs to massage that muscle on the back of Haru's knees.

Haru jolted, nearly laughing his head off as his feet kicked against the floor. Kambe was merciless, pinching and rubbing the spot as if he did that all day, every day.

Haru had really forgotten how ticklish he was. It had been a long time since someone had tickled him, and that moment in his life that HEUSC had mentioned had been almost completely forgotten.

Almost was the key word. He never forgot the times he was tickled and that was because, no matter how embarrassing it felt to admit it even to himself, he loved being tickled. Not only did it feel good, somehow, in his skin, but it also made him feel... warm. The thought that someone wanted to make him laugh made him feel loved… but that wasn't something he was going to admit to Kambe.

So he would just laugh and act like he really hated it, knowing very well that he couldn't make a fool of Daisuke.

“HEUSC was right, huh?” Daisuke said, scribbling the back of Haru's knees, making him shriek with laughter. “Next spot was…”

Haru blushed, thankful that Daisuke didn't tickle his inner thighs and instead moved higher to get his hips. He bucked and suddenly thought that spot was just as terribly embarrassing as his inner thighs.

“Kahahahambe!” He laughed out, growing a little weak. “Dohohon't!”

Daisuke actually chuckled, not maliciously, to Haru's surprise. “Do you forgive me?”

Haru laughed, pressing his face against the floor as Daisuke pinched his hips. “Y-Your ahahapology is nohohot- AHAHAHA!” He cackled, his arms pressing against his sides as he felt Daisuke's hands squeezing and wiggling against his waist

“Do you forgive me?” Kambe repeated.

“Yohohou’re a pahaha- AHAHAHA! N-Nohoho, plehehehase!” Now those wiggling fingers moved to his ribcage, playing with each bone carefully, pulling out the strongest cackle out of Haru he could muster. “Fihihine! FIHIHIHINE!” He laughed, tears of mirth streaming down his face.

“I fohohorgive yohohou! I FOHOHORGIVE yohohou!” He cackled, squirming weakly and nearly sobbing as Daisuke tickled him for a bit more, spearing his poor armpits.

“Thank you,” Daisuke said, stopping the tickling and moving off the other. Haru collapsed onto the floor, breathing heavily with a silly smile on his face. “I'm truly sorry.”

Haru looked at him through tears and saw the sincerity in Daisuke's eyes. He sighed, rolling his eyes playfully.

“I won't invite you ever again if you say something like that again,” Haru said, sitting up once he had calmed down.

Daisuke also rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips. “It's not that I want to be-

“Kambe Daisuke's body exhibits heightened sensitivity in the following areas–”

“HEUSC!” Kambe shrieked, covering his earring to shut the butler.

Haru laughed and launched at him, wrestling his arm down.

“Keep talking, HEUSC! Keep talking!”

It seemed that Haru's small house was big enough for two grown men to roll around and laugh on the floor. Well, after all… without those elevated shoes, Daisuke looked like the owner of that mouse hole!

#daiharu in this economy????#thriving today #and even better that max paid for my meal #a meal cooked by no other than mia #what a day to be alive #loved this #mwah mwah mwah you both #fugou keiji balance: unlimited #fugou keiji balance: unlimited tickling #kambe daisuke #kato haru #ticklish!kato haru #tickle fic

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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The Best Kept Secret on the Grid {6}

Summary: It's Christmas Eve which means eating out and going home for secret Santa. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, oral WC: 1.5k F1 Masterlist || Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five

Christmas Eve Your spacious penthouse seemed small when it was filled with the egos of a dozen formula one racers. Lewis, Charles and Pierre lounged on the sofa watching a basketball game on the tv. Carlos, Logan, Daniel and Lando were at the wet bar competing to make the best cocktail while Oscar judged them, and not just on the cocktails either. Fernando was using Esteban and George’s height to hang Christmas decorations around the apartment.

The rest of the drivers would have come but other commitments had kept them from joining you for the festive celebrations. You had a little present ready to be sent at midnight and you knew the video would only make them wish they could be with you even more.

Footsteps padded along the hall before your bedroom door opened and you caught Max’s eyes in the mirror as you applied a vibrant shade of lipstick. “You look beautiful.”

You rose from the vanity seat and turned slowly to show off the dress completely, blowing him a kiss when you faced him again. “Thank you, Maxy.”

He curled an arm around your waist, his hand meeting your skin where the backless dress left you bare, and he tugged you against him. “Ready for dinner? I’ve been told the appetiser is to die for.”

“That is high praise from a man who would be happy with a bag of Doritos. Will you tell me where we are going?”

He smirked as his hand drifted down over the material that covered your ass. “Just wait and see.”

The restaurant was unassuming with an unmarked door, and if it wasn’t for the seven sports cars lining the street you never would have known you had reached your destination. You never saw the kitchen, or the staff, as you followed Max and Lewis to the only door that had light spilling from it. You were beginning to doubt it was even a restaurant until you reached the room and found a large round table set with mouthwatering scents permeating the air.

“There’s a seat missing,” you pointed out as the men took their places.

“How could we forget you, darling?” Lewis chuckled as he held a hand out to you.

“We have one for you right here,” Charles said, swiping the middle of the table that rotated at his touch.

“Are you wearing anything under that pretty dress, ma chat?” Pierre asked as he toyed with his plump bottom lip.

Max’s hands ran down your thighs before dragging your dress up until it reached your hips, a collective sound of pleasure answering the question. Lando turned Max’s chair around and offered his hand to steady you as you stepped up and onto the table.

“Are the chefs aware this is a BYO first course?” you teased as you sat down and reclined back on your elbows.

“No,” Max chuckled as he took his seat and spread your legs. “But we have napkins for when you get too loud.”

Lando’s hand ran up your calf, drawing slow circles over your skin and Lewis placed your heel on his shoulder, kissing your ankle. At the opposite end of the table Pierre took your hand and tugged you flat on your back so you could reach his collar. Tugging his tie, you pulled him in for a kiss that inhaled the gasp that came when Max ran his tongue along your slit.

Hands caught the bodice of your dress and bared your breasts, deft fingers teasing your nipples to stiff peaks. Your eyes fluttered shut at the pleasure from their worship and you didn’t know whose kiss, touch, lick or bite belonged to who as you writhed in ecstasy.

Your mind was already a dizzying mess when the room spun and gone was the ticklish beard that had burned your thighs when Max feasted between your legs. The new mouth that sealed around your clit was just as skilled as he sucked and licked you into a frenzy, but the cheeks that pressed to your inner thighs were smooth and gentle on the heated skin.

Your back arched as your muscles tightened and your legs tried to close before new hands spread them wide. “Fuck, George, don’t stop, please…”

Your needy whines grew louder until Nando grasped your jaw and opened your mouth to shove a napkin in. “Shhh, corazón,” he soothed as he stroked your cheek. “We’ll give you what you want, just not yet.”

The table turned and the orgasm that was within reach faded with a frustrated cry. Their taunting laughs only made your core clench as you squirmed as you impatiently waited to see who’s seat you would stop in front of next.

“Sounds like you need some help, sweetheart,” the young American drawled, his fingers running through your wet folds.

“Typical All-American hero to the rescue,” Lando joked to your left.

“Please…” you begged through the napkin as you reached for Logan’s hair. His smirk disappeared between your legs and bliss returned with more stars dancing across your vision than there were on his flag.

Your eyes rolled back into your head as the pleasure mounted and you were rewarded for your patience with a mindblowing orgasm. Still, he didn’t stop his ministrations as the waves rocked through you and hands pinned your hips down while they drove you to overstimulation.

The tower clock down the street chimed as midnight arrived and you grinned as you eyed the stack of presents under the tree. “Please, can I open just one?”

“If you open one, you have to open them all,” Max replied cryptically.

“I’m fine with that,” you hummed much to their amusement and he patted your hip with permission. You tested your steadiness as you climbed off his lap and found your legs had regained their strength. Your boys had really done a number on you in the restaurant, they were surprised you were even still awake.

Kneeling on the floor beside the tree you grabbed a very neatly wrapped box with a large silver bow in the centre. You gave it a shake and felt something move inside but there was no noise to indicate what it was. Turning it around you found no name on it and frowned. “Is this one for me?”

“They’re all for you,” Esteban said, sharing a smirk with Charles who then said, “You should be able to guess who they are from.”

“Aha, secret Santa,” you giggled before reaching for the biggest gift first. You tore the silver bow open and flipped the lid of the box before plucking the ruffled crepe paper away. “Oh, wow.”

The guys had gathered around and they chuckled at your reaction as you wrapped your hand around the shaft of the dildo. Your fingertip traced the delicate veins that your tongue knew intimately and you met the pair of dark eyes it belonged to.

“Thank you, Lewis.”

“You’re welcome, darling.”

“That was too easy, go for an average size, but no less important, present,” Daniel said with a grin.

Lewis laughed and reclined back comfortably. “I can’t help that my dick didn’t fit in the same box.”

You scanned the rest of the boxes and your jaw dropped in realisation. “How did you even think of this?”

“We thought you might miss us when we go away for training and testing after the holidays, or miss a part of us at least,” Daniel said with a smirk.

“I miss every part of you,” you assured them as you grabbed another box and tore into it. “But this will make the nights easier to bear until Bahrain.”

You pushed the shredded paper aside to see a fluorescent green cock, a laugh escaping as you picked it up. The head was wider than the shaft and your mouth watered at the memory of the many times you had tasted Lando.

“This is very bright,” you said to him as you stroked the phallus.

“So you don’t lose it,” he grinned proudly.

“Yours glow in the dark?” Carlos huffed as he took it from you and inspected it for himself. “I wish I thought of that.”

“You wish you read the instructions properly,” Lando teased before tipping his head to you. “Someone didn’t know you had to shave before sticking your dick in the mould.”

Max winced along with Oscar and Charles rubbed Carlos’ shoulder patronisingly until he shrugged it off and grumbled, “I still have a bald patch.”

“Would you like me to kiss it better?”

His warm brown eyes lit up at the offer and his hands instantly reached for his belt. “Do you know how long I have had a hard on for?”

“The same as the rest of us,” Oscar muttered as he took the replica of his teammate's dick and marvelled at how realistic it was.

“I can think of a few things to help with that,” you said as you waved a hand over the presents. “I mean, Santa’s already come, so why shouldn’t you?”

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #f1 x reader #f1 x y/n #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #formula one smut #formula 1 x reader

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